#I WAS MAKING COOKIES AND JUST STOOD IN MY KITCHEN LIKE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fushitoru · 2 months ago

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all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #Gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo Satoru x you #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo Satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo Satoru #gojo

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harryspet · 2 months ago

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stray kitten | r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe x homeless!pogue!reader, heavy somnophilia, blackmail/manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think :)

Rafe icon: @/rafesfavslvt on pinterest!

In which Rafe grants you the freedom to come and go as you wish in his condo—but in return, your body becomes his to use freely.

word count: 3.5k

rafe cameron masterlist

The first night you met, a crashing sound wakes Rafe from his sleep. He’s delirious and still wearing his clothes from the same day. His flight had landed on the mainland at 11 o'clock, and after a long drive to Kildare, he'd collapsed on the couch in his condo's living room. He couldn’t quite gauge the time, but the sun hadn’t yet begun to creep through the tall windows that framed his space.

His mind was still foggy but he knew there was someone in his home, “Shit,” He muttered underneath his breath as he pulled himself off the couch and attempted to get his bearings. He found his phone, close to dying, lying underneath a pillow. The time read 2:19 a.m., making Rafe wince. He knew he hadn’t given anyone permission to be in his house. Sofia was the only one with a key and they were currently on an “off” phase of their on and off relationship.

Rafe tucked his phone into his pocket, letting his eyes adjust, and quickly determining his plan of action. The bookcase beside the large-screen TV held a drawer. Precisely, Rafe moved over to it, and quietly retrieved a handgun that was discreetly hidden inside.

The sounds of movement grew louder from the kitchen, and he could pinpoint the exact location now. His gaze shifted toward the hallway just off the living room, the one that led directly to the kitchen. Without hesitation, Rafe made his way toward it, the weight of the gun in his hand grounding him.

The floorboards at the entrance to kitchen creaked slightly underneath his weight. Rafe knew he wouldn’t have the upperhand for long, soon he’d come face to face with the intruder, and he moved with determination.

His heart beat louder than he wanted. As if on cue, the noise continued, and Rafe’s gun pointed toward his walk-in pantry. A quick shuffle of feet, Rafe moved quickly, strong arms pushing the door to the pantry completely open with one hand, the other tightly gripping the gun.

He second guessed himself as soon as he saw you. His eyes scrunched in confusion just as you dropped the glass cookie jar in your hands, and the glass shattered all around your feet. The sound echoed in the quiet room, sharp and jarring.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Rafe’s gaze searched your face before he scanned you over. Scrawny legs, dark, golden skin and bare feet that were unprotected by the glass now around your feet.

His grip on the gun tightened instinctively, but he hesitated, watching as you flinched at the sound of the shattering jar. Frightened, doe-like eyes looked back at him, wide and vulnerable. Your face was soft, framed by large, unruly curls that tumbled down your shoulders, “Don’t move,” It came off more threatening than he intended, “You’ll cut yourself.”

You didn’t respond though Rafe could see you were holding your breath. He lowered the gun. There was something wild in your eyes, untamed. Rafe’s curiosity piqued, “Who-Who are you?” Rafe asked, “What are you doing in my house?”

A long silence followed and the tension grew thicker, “I know you understand me,” Rafe continued. He took notice of your clothing. Your jean shorts reached just above your knee and were practically falling off your hips. You wore a raggedy sweatshirt with all the letters faded and you were clutching an old, leather backpack, “You here to steal from me?”

Rafe appeared disheveled, his button-up shirt untucked from his khakis, but even in his disorder, he stood in stark contrast to you.

You shook your head, eyes bursting with fear, “I didn’t … I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to?” Rafe replied a little too quickly and you gave him a look that said you might shrink in on yourself.

“I’ll … leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”

“That’s called breaking and entering.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeated again and Rafe couldn’t help the incredulous look that spread across his face, “All the lights were out and I just …I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Rafe nodded slowly, trying to process your presence and the fact that he currently had the power to …possibly, do whatever he pleased with you. He could call the police. Or threaten to call the police. He could see what you were willing to do in order for him not to call the police on you. What would you be able to do? You barely looked strong enough to carry the bag on your shoulder. He didn’t need the gun or a threat to the police. He could easily overpower you. His thoughts wandered down that path, and he felt no guilt in doing so; he had long ago accepted the darker side of his nature. Still, you had taken the risk, broken in all on your own.

You were desperate, Rafe thought, as the realization sank in.

“You running from someone, sweetheart?” Rafe questioned further, “You got warrants? People after you?”

You shook your head quickly, “No warrants. No one…” It was vulnerable information, Rafe could see it in your eyes, but he currently held your fate in his hands. You had to trust him for the time being, “No one’s looking for me. My foster parents kicked me out, uh, a long time ago. And I just … don’t have that many friends right now. I was just going to crash for the night.”

“And take my food?” Rafe added, a tired smile on his lips.

You were still unsettled, naturally, but Rafe had already decided your fate, “Yeah,” You admitted, “I’m sorry. If you let me leave, you will never see me again. I promise. Please don’t call-”

You froze when Rafe lifted his gun again. He made a show of him flipping on the gun’s safety and placing it on the kitchen counter. He took a step forward, luckily, he fell asleep in his Tom Ford loafers which could protect him from the shattered glass. He stood in the pantry, door way, reaching a hand out to you. When Rafe sensed your hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to call the police,” He reassured you, “Let me help you so you don’t cut your fucking feet and get blood everywhere.”

You let his larger hand, envelope yours, and you were about to take a hesitant hop over the glass but as you leaned closer, so did Rafe. Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you, setting you down on the far side of the kitchen. “Stay there,” he commanded, his tone firm. “I’m serious, don’t move.”

You didn’t even know his name, yet his presence alone had you nodding in quick, unquestioning compliance.

His line of questioning continued as you watched him procure of a broom and dust pan, “You’re from the Cut?”

“Yeah,” You answered timidly. It wasn’t fully true. You’d grown up everywhere but the foster parents that had taken you in at fifteen were from the Cut and you’d made your Kildare your home over the next years.

“I’m Rafe.”

“...Y/N.”

“And do you usually do your breaking and entering barefoot?”

"I don’t like shoes," you said, your voice carrying a weight of seriousness that caught Rafe off guard. He paused in his crouch, lifting his gaze to meet yours as he stopped sweeping the glass. His eyes searched your face, trying to gauge the sincerity behind your words. "Never have. And I don’t do a lot of breaking and entering…"

“You don’t like shoes,” Rafe repeated in understanding, “And you’ve got a sweet tooth?”

“You didn’t have much real food,” You said and regretted it quickly, “I mean-”

Rafe stood and you watched him bring the scraped up glass to the trashcan, “Noted,” Rafe interrupted, “I apologize, I travel too much. And I’m not much of a cook.”

“I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” You spoke sincerely, pressing yourself back into his marble countertops. His kitchen was huge, covered floor to ceiling in white fixtures and marble accents. You could feed an entire orphanage with a kitchen like this and yet you had come to the conclusion that he lived alone, “I’m not picky. I’m really not. And I will pay you back for the jar.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed at you as he moved closer to you, “How do I know you won’t pay me back with money you stole?”

You couldn’t help that your jaw tensed at the question, “I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“And how do I know you won’t come back with one of your pogue friends?” He held you with his gaze, so much so that it became too late for you to realize that he was placing both his hands on either side of you, effectively pinning you against the counter. Instinctively, your hand reach out to keep him from coming closer. That was far too intimate, you realized, as your hands came in contact with the hardness of his chest. You gasped, your hand falling helplessly back to your side, “You sure there’s no lowlife pogue boyfriend out looking for you right now?”

“No,” You spoke rapidly, “Yes, I mean, I’m sure there isn’t. And I won’t come back-”

“But you’ll do this again. You’ll get hungry or cold. And you’ll probably meet someone who’s not as kind and welcoming as me.”

Your breathing started to grow uneven and your eyes began to look for an exit, an escape plan, “If you’re not calling the police then I’ll leave. After that, it wouldn’t really be your business.”

He seemed to nod with understanding but he kept you trapped there, “I have another way you can pay for that jar, sweetheart. And the sleep I’ve lost. And whatever else you have stuffed in your bag.”

A cold realization washed over you, “I promise I’ll leave and won’t come back-”

Rafe shushed you. You felt a hand at your waist, a hand so large it effortlessly almost encircled your entire torso. His finger traced the waistband of your jeans, the movement slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then, his thumb brushed against the skin of your stomach. The sheer size of him, his imposing presence, his towering height, felt like a physical weight pressing down on you.

“You don’t want to leave,” He leaned down to speak into your ear. This was the reality of your situation. You were aware of the risks. You were only scared that he would hurt you badly, “You’ve got nowhere to go, sweetheart. You’re hungry. Tired. You want a warm bed to sleep in tonight, don’t you? A hot shower?”

“Yes,” You spoke weakly.

“Good, then stay,” His words settled into the air like a final decree, and you couldn’t escape them. Not physically, and not mentally.

The first night happened like a dream. He made you hot food, something that came frozen, but you could microwave in a few minutes. After he watched you devour the entirety of the meal, he led you upstairs to his bedroom. Even in the dim light, of the early morning, the hues of cream and white gave the room a serene feeling. It was a distinct reminder of how different your world was from his.

He left you alone to shower in his luxurious bathroom. The rainfall showerhead cascaded warm water over you, washing away two days of grime and exhaustion. The soothing stream was almost enough to lull you to sleep right there. You explored the shelves, trying a eucalyptus soap and using far too much from the expensive bottles of shampoo and conditioner, their silky textures foreign to you. When you stepped out, the heated floor greeted your feet with comforting warmth, and you wrapped yourself in a fluffy white robe that felt softer than anything you'd ever owned.

Standing before the mirror in the double vanity, you finally confronted your reflection. You began detangling your hair with your fingers, doing your best before braiding it into long plaits. For the first time in years, as you stared at yourself, you felt a glimmer of humanity, a version of yourself you had almost forgotten.

Finally, you found a spare toothbrush and freshened up, the minty taste a small but satisfying indulgence. Layers of cozy linens and soft throw blankets seemed to call you from the bedroom. Quietly, you left the bathroom and stepped back into the dimly lit space, your eyes drifting to the man who had taken you in.

He lay peacefully in his bed, his business clothes abandoned. The faint glow of moonlight revealed the contours of his bare torso, and though he appeared peaceful, there was no mistaking that undercurrent of danger that lingered in his presence. Handsome yet terrifying, he seemed both protector and predator.

Logic urged you to leave, to take the fleeting comforts he had offered and disappear before he could demand anything in return. But exhaustion and the strong pull of his presence overruled your better judgment. Silently, you slipped onto the opposite side of the California king bed, careful not to wake him. When he didn’t stir, you allowed yourself to sink into the luxurious mattress. Sleep claimed you within moments.

Something, someone, gently lulled you from your sleep later in the morning. You didn’t know it then but it wouldn’t be the last time you’d wake up with Rafe on top of you. Soft touches, kisses, peppered across your cheek. Small pecks against your lips. The feeling was almost comforting enough for you to not realize the reality of your situation. As soon as you did remember that you were in a stranger’s home underneath said stranger, your body reacted accordingly.

You bit down on his lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed, pulling back slightly. You seized the moment to push against him, but any hope of escape vanished as his hand shot up, gripping your throat with unnerving ease.

“Don’t fucking move,” he commanded, his voice low and razor-sharp.

Your words caught in your throat and you stared up at the man with wide eyes, “You’re feisty in the morning, kitten,” Rafe breathed out, wiping his lip with his free hand. A thin smear of blood painted his fingertips. “Calm down, your body’s ready, your mind just hasn’t caught up.”

Although you were unable to look down at your body, you realized that the robe you slept in was wide open, exposing your naked body, “You’re already wet. I made sure.” He explained in most normal of tones. You realized what he was implying.

“You touched me while I was sleeping?” You were able to ask once you gave the impression that you were calming down and he loosened his grip. The words were weaker than you intended.

“What was I supposed to do, huh?” A wicked smirk grew on his lips, “I’ve got a half naked girl in my bed. I’m s’posed to keep my hands to myself? Be a saint?”

You swallowed, “Can you just …” Your voice came out uncertain, “I d-don’t have that much experience.”

His smirk grew even more, “You don’t want me to be rough? Don’t want me to bite you so hard you bleed? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

You threw your head back in frustration, “You scared me.”

“That’s not the response I was looking for, kitten.”

“I’m sorry,” You corrected yourself, “I’m sorry for biting you.”

“Good girl,” Rafe kissed the side of your lip and you tried your best not to squirm, “Ask me what you wanted to ask me.”

Hands on either side of your head, he pressed his lower body into yours and his hard member pressing against your naked skin made your eyes widen in fear. You couldn’t look down, knowing that if you could visualize how big he was, you’d never stop fighting him.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You asked the stranger, “Please don’t hurt me, Rafe.”

The words you spoke out of nervousness seemed to add to his exhilaration. His body enveloped yours, the weight of him pressing down on you. It was inescapable, Rafe pushing all of his length, slowly but fully inside of you, “Won’t hurt you, little one,” You held onto him out of necessity, wanting to stabilize yourself, but your body told you to do the opposite. Although your legs were pinned, you tried to push away from him, not believing your body could fit all of him, “I know it doesn’t hurt. You’re ready for me. Don’t you fucking run.”

“Please,” You whimpered. He was right. It wasn’t pain that you were feeling, “It feels too … too much. Too full.”

Rafe hooked his arms around your legs, folding you into yourself, as he pushed himself deeper, “Shit, shit, shit,” you gasped, the words tumbling out as your head fell back. “Ffff—oh my god!”

“You can do it, little one,” Rafe coaxed you through the sensation, “Look at you. Taking me so deep. You’ve almost got all of me.”

Almost, the word made you want to explode. You tried to leave your mind, to not overthink in that moment, knowing your anxiety was getting the best of you. You focused on his words. Maybe he was right? You could do it and you could do a good job. He’s too big, but he’s right, you’re not in pain.

Rafe’s face swirled with amusement and ecstasy, “Fuck, let me use that tight little pussy,” He groaned, shifting his hips slightly, only to test how much further he could sheath himself inside of you, “You’re being such a good girl, squeezing me so good.”

The praise sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through you. His voice was warm but demanding. He wanted you to surrender, and deep down, you wanted that to.

Your breath hitched as he pressed forward again, and your body instinctively clenched around him. “Rafe,” you whimpered, his name slipping past your lips.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Say my name again, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by how easily he unraveled you, but Rafe wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Say it.”

“Rafe,” you whispered obediently.

“Good girl.” His approval came like a reward.

He adjusted his pace, moving in a rhythm that felt more intentional. It was overwhelming having him inside of you but you weren’t prepared for him to pull in an out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

You weren’t sure if you were still dreaming. The gentle sound of the ocean outside the open windows providing a steady backdrop to the moment. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze, their flowing fabric catching the morning light.

It wasn’t a bad bargain, your mind started to rationalize the situation. When Rafe eventually finished deep inside of you, your body shaking beneath him, he proposed the idea of the two of you continuing your arrangement. Rafe traveled so much and it wasn’t in your nature to stay in one place for too long, he offered to host you whenever you wished. As long as you kept what was between your legs for him, you could make yourself at home, even when he wasn’t.

He kept his fridge stocked for you, left you gifts in the form of new clothes (never shoes), and gift cards to restaurants and stores.

Sometimes you’d go weeks in between seeing him, having missed each other, but when you were together, Rafe took full advantage.

The sunroom became your sanctuary—a place where the world slowed down. You spent hours there, stretched out on a chaise lounge, the warmth of the sun blanketing your skin as you flipped through pages of a book or dozed off to the sound of distant waves.

Rafe loved to find you napping. The first time he came home from a long, work trip and found your body laid out on the soft carpet of the sunroom floor, he wasted no time. Easily, he lifted your patchwork dress and pushed your panties to the side. As soon as you stirred from your sleep, you realized he was pressing his length against your entrance, “Rafe,” You called out, half asleep, but he was already inside of you, “What –”

“Did you miss me?” He asks as he slowly moves in and out of you.

You gasp from the sensation but also the shock. He doesn’t leave room for you to protest, to second guess yourself, because he presses his weight into you and pins you there to the floor. In prone position, he fucks you hard and slow, “Did you miss me, kitten?” He asks again and you try your hardest to form the words.

“Yes,” You managed, able to feel just how much he missed you, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” He confirms and you can practically hear his smirk, “This little pussy hasn’t been fucked in a week.”

The thought makes you grateful for that overwhelming feeling. That fullness.

“Gotta take care of my kitten.”

Pls reblog and let me know what you think!! :)

#rafe cameron #dark fic #black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader

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sturniqlo · 1 month ago

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COMFORT- SHY!MATT x SHY!READER

summary- matt loves how comfortable darling is around him, it turns him on at certain times (matt being a whole different person in bed.. yum)

cw: SMUT; dom(ish)!matt, p in v, making out, nipple play, oral!f receiving, creampie, FLUFF

an: thank you to this anon (also, this is my first ever shy!matt x darling smut fic, p.s i know the pajama bottoms are actually shorts but pretend they're underwear)

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

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it was that point in their relationship where darling was getting very comfortable around matt-and vice versa-, not that she wasn't ever comfortable around him, just comfortable in a different light. she started doing things around him that she would only do when she was alone. one of those things is walk around in her underwear or bra.

"i'm gonna shower really quick." she said with her clothes and towel in hand. "okay, i'll be here." matt smiles as he sits against her headboard her fluffy blanket over his lap. matt being matt, puckers his lips signaling he wants a kiss. darling doesn't think anything of it, in all honestly she loves when he does that, it's become normal for them.

she even catches herself doing it sometimes. "mwah!" she intentionally says as she plants a kiss onto his lips, she can still taste the faint sherbet ice cream they shared. "don't take long, i'll miss you." he teases, squeezing her hip gently. "i'll try not to." she pecks his lips this time before making her way to the bathroom out in the hall.

as matt waited for her, scrolling through her streaming services on her tv, he got up and went down to the kitchen to get a snack. darling's parents were currently out on a camping trip since it was their anniversary weekend. with their permission, matt was able to come and stay over. they trusted matt and darling as they were once young and in love.

he opened the fridge grabbing two cold water bottles as he noticed her water bottle was almost empty. placing both of them on the island counter, matt opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. he saw the half eaten tray of her dad's strawberry danish and held back from grabbing a piece. her dad was serious about his danishes.

opting for some chips and a bit of chocolate chip cookies, he made his way back upstairs into her bedroom. as matt passed the bathroom, he heard the running water and her slight humming to the song she played on low volume.

matt returned back to the room and dug into the snacks he had brought up. still continuing to scroll through the streaming services, he didn't choose anything because he wanted to wait for darling and see what she would want to watch.

he looked around her room noticing small details that she had added. a new sonny angel hipper was added to the back of her flatscreen tv, the calendar matt had gifted her with pictures of them was hung up on her closet door, and a new pair of shoes was added to her shoe rack. he noticed every little detail.

it was about fifteen minutes later when darling walked through the door, her hair up in her designated hair towel. when matt realized what she was wearing, his breath hitched. she wore a white teddy bear tank paired with matching teddy bear boxer like underwear.

she had just started doing this around matt, walking around in her underwear. he cleared his throat as he caught himself watching her as she went into her closet to put her dirty clothes into her hamper. "find something to watch?" she said in a soft tone as she sat in her vanity across the room, watching him through the mirror as she combed her hair. "huh- oh- uh, no. i was uh- i was waiting for you. see what you wanted to watch."

she didn't realize his now worked up state. "you can put modern family back on." darling did her skincare, and lathered herself in her sweet scented lotion that drove matt crazy. he went to hulu to put the show, but he kept glancing back at darling who stood up to lather her legs.

the ends of her underwear rode up slightly and exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks. "shit." he muttered under his breath, shifting in the bed putting the blanket back over his lap. darling came closer to the bed and smiled at matt. "i feel so clean." she giggled, sitting on top of the blanket. "baby, are you not hot?" her dad had cranked up the heater before he left and it was really warm in the house.

"no- no, not really." he nervously chuckled, her scent engulfed his sense of smell. he looked down to play with his fingers, but caught eye of her plump thighs. "well i am. it's like ninety degrees in here." she fanned her tank top. matt stared at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

they were a couple of episodes in and darling ended up laying on her belly towards the end of the bed, which was the worst decision in matt's eyes. the curve of her ass was taunting him. the way it jiggled when she laughed or made a slight movement to get comfy, and the way her underwear rode up more.

darling didn't do it intentionally, in all honesty the thought of matt being worked up didn't cross her mind. she soon sat up and scooted to matt. "i'm bored." she told him, kneeling next to him running a hand through his hair. "what do you wanna do?" he said, his eyes raking up to her eyes and down to her lips.

"are you sure you're okay? you look pretty flustered." she furrows her eyebrows. "baby-" she gasped. "are you.. hard?" he groaned. "darling.. you're- you just look so good." she blushed at his words. "why didn't you tell me? i could've helped you all this time." she moved the blanket off of him and straddled his lap. matt was never one to just ask for sex- he was too shy to do so, he would give her little touches here and there or just stare at her.

"you know why." his hands came to rest on the silver of her skin where her tank top rode up. her hips slowly rolled against his. "baby." his threw his head slightly back. darling took the opportunity to kiss against his neck. matt got hold of her chin and connected their lips in a hungry kiss. "such a tease, hm? wearing your tiny panties around me." his finger dipped into the waistband of her underwear and let it slap against her skin. "mmph!" she whined against his lips.

"can i?" he pulled away from her, their lips red and swollen, his hands slipped under her tank top, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "please- yes." she nodded- she was now as equally as needy as him. matt wasted no time in taking her shirt off. her full, round tits on display for him. "so pretty, darling. so fucking pretty." he growled, taking her right tit into his mouth. his wet, pink tongue swirled around her nipple as he stared up at her, her eyes closed in pleasure.

"matt, oh- shit." her back arched, furthering herself more into matt. "love your tits, babe." he popped off of her nipple, moving onto the left one as his hand came up to knead the one he had in his mouth before.

after some time, he began to trail kisses around her chest up to her collarbone, up her neck eventually making it back to her lips. "lay on the bed f'me. c'mon." he patted the side of her thigh. darling came off of his thigh and laid next to him. matt hovered over her, pressing a few kisses to her neck. his kisses trailed down her body until he reached the hem of her underwear. "matt- please." she looked down at him.

"patience, darling." matt continued to press teasing kisses along her underwear. a wet patch began to form on her panties. "wet already?" he smirked, his finger prodding at the patch. "mhm- so wet for you." she rolled her hips wanting more. after pressing a kiss to her wetness, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled them down. "lift up f'me." she lifted her hips so he'd be able to pull them down her legs.

he tossed the underwater somewhere on the bed, putting her legs over his shoulders. "look at that. pussys so pretty." matt was face to face with her glistening folds that we're aching to be touched. darling shivered when his breath fanned against her wetness.

pressing kisses along her inner thighs, so very close to her core, matt licked and nipped until she was a squirming wanted to be licked where she needed it most. "please, stop- stop teasing." she whined, gripped his hair to try and guide him to her pussy. "am i being mean, hm?" his tongue made very small contact, but quickly pulled away.

matt thought he had teased enough and dipped his tongue into her hole, licking a stripe up to her clit. "oh- yes!" she smiled at the feeling of his warm tongue on her. "so good, darling. taste so good." he lapped up her arousal. sucking on her lips, her back arched at the sensation- the suction around her lips and the vibrations of his muffled moans.

"just like that- fuck!" her hands fisted at the bed sheets as she didn't want to hurt matt's scalp. darlings moans and pants filled the room, her constant whines when matt would pull away for a split second. matt's hands trailed up her body as she continued to eat her out. his fingertips found her tits and he rolled her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.

he soon pulled away due to the ache in his pants becoming too much. "baby, please let me- let me fuck you." he mumbled as he kissed up her body. he sucked a few marks onto her neck. darlings hands creeped into his hair. "mhm, yes. i want you in me." she whispered into his ear, his hips rolled against her. "yeah?" he bit down on her neck. "so bad, please." she held the sides of his face and stared at him. matt broke into a smug smile, leaning down to press their lips together.

as their lips and tongue clashed together, matt pulled down both his pants and underwear throwing them somewhere. he stroked his hard cock a couple of times, pulling away from the kiss. darling looked down to where his cock was and saw the red leaking tip, her pussy clenched around nothing. "ready f'me?" he said, slapping his dick against her clit. "yes, i'm ready." she nodded, biting her bottom lip.

matt lined his tip up with her wet hole and slowly pushed into her. darling moaned feeling the familiar stretch of matt's cock. "so tight." matt's jaw slacked at her warm walls squeezing him. once he bottomed out, he waited a few moments until she was ready for him to move.

"you can- you can move." she nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders. matt pushed out before thrusting back in making them both moan at the same time. "yes, just like that. faster, baby." darling whined. he accepted her wishes and picked up the speed.

the wet noises, along with their moans, now filled the air in her room. the occasional bang of the headboard against the wall was covered by the lewd noises. "feel you squeezing my cock, darling." he kissed just below her ear. "it's so good, matt. don't stop." her moans continued.

minutes later, matt pulled out causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. "matt- what- what are you doing." her glossy eyes looked up at him. "shh, it's okay, pretty." he pressed a kiss to her lips. "want you to flip over f'me. hands and knees, yeah?" matt knew that her being on all fours made it feel better and deeper for her. she nodded, her damp hair from her shower and the slight sweat made the baby hairs stick along her hairline.

matt got on his knees to give her space to flip over. once she was situated, matt got behind her and caressed the soft and plump skin of her ass. his hand grabbed his dick and ran it up and down her puffy, wet folds. "oh- matt." she arched her back as he circled his tip against her hole. matt didn't ram himself in, but he certainly didn't hold back. her high pitched moans and whimpers began again. only this time they were louder due to the new position and angle.

"f-fuck, you're so deep." she mumbled against the bed sheets. her once hands and knees position turned into her being face down ass up. "yeah? feel me so deep inside of your tummy, babe." his hands came to the side of her ass, holding her as he went in and out of her. "so fucking deep." she repeated.

darling felt the familiar pressure building up in her lower belly, so she began backing her ass into him. matt groaned when he realized what she was doing. "you close, hm?" he groaned, his right hand on her ass and the other on the back of her neck. "yes- yes, so close. don't stop." she cried, wanting her release.

"cum for me. cum all over my dick." matt began to do long, deep strokes. "shit- just like that." the movement in his thrusts brought her more to the edge. her fingers curled into the pillow as she mewled. "i'm- fuck, i'm cumming!" her legs trembled as she released. "that's it, baby. all over my dick, mhm." he thrusted a couple of more times before he felt the familiar sensation.

"babe- i'm close." he gently brought her up to where her back was pressed up against his chest. "cum in me. want all of it, plea- please." she cried, her hand coming behind his head as he nipped at her neck. "oh- shit." his cock twitched inside of her as he came. matt kept messily thrusting against her as he rode his high.

once she started to whine, he stopped as he knew that she had become sensitive. "it's okay, i've got you." he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. slowly and carefully he laid her back down, still staying inside of her. "is it okay if i pull out? need to clean you up." she nodded. slowly, he pulled out watching as his cum leaked out of her. matt held back a groan at the sight.

"i'll be back, gonna get some tissue."

when matt finished cleaning her up, they showered together. "baby, c'mere. wanna braid your hair." matt patted his lap. "really? think you got it?" she teased. "i definitely improved since last time." darling sat in between his legs as he worked with her hair. "so it's right over left- no, no. right over left." he muttered to himself.

although he had to restart a couple of times, he finally finished it. matt took a picture and showed her. "alright, what do you think of my masterpiece?" he handed her his phone and wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her into his chest. "it's definitely something, i'll tell you that." she giggled. some parts were pretty loose and in some her hair was sticking out. "hey, i thought i did pretty good." he pouted, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"just gotta keep on practicing." she turned around and booped his nose.

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jinwoosbabyboo · 1 month ago

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I have a silly thought that I would like to share with you. Sometimes, I make random noises as a sort of verbal keysmash. Wouldn't it be funny if the verbal keysmashes were somehow Lemurian swear words? Or an old Philos curse?

Gibberish … Maybe?

How I imagine the LADS men reacting to you accidentally saying something in another language. Whole time you just made a random noise and have no clue what they’re even talking about. A/N: Imagine saying "manamana doot dee de dee tee" and they think you just cursed them out in a different language

Zayne

Doorways and staircases really suck sometimes because why did you completely forget what you came in the kitchen for as soon as you walked through the cased opening. You stood there dumbfounded and made a random noise which you could only refer to as a ‘verbal keyboard smash’

Zayne: Where did you learn that? MC: Learn what? Zayne: You just said ‘Forevermore’ in latin MC: I literally made the most random noise my brain could think of Zayne: That was latin clear as day MC: How the hell do you know latin? Zayne: I studied it MC: Why? Zayne: Why not?

From then on Zayne sends you random quotes in latin just to see if you can tell what they say. You keep telling him you never learned latin and have no clue what he’s talking about. After months of him teaching you bits of latin you two have your own little secret language now.

Rafayel

Your brain must've stopped working for a second because here you are opening the oven with your left hand and reaching in with your right hand. The problem? The oven mitt is on your left hand. Just as the tip of your finger is about to hit the edge of that scalding hot cookie sheet you pull your hand back making the most random shocked noise.

Rafayel: What did you just call me? MC: What are you talking about? Rafayel: You just basically called me a barnacle muncher in glubbanese MC: Glubba what?! Rafayel: Who taught you that? MC: Nobody taught me anything what in the blue fuck are you talking about? Rafayel: Are you seeing other Lemurians? MC: I made a random noise Raf get outta my ear with all this

You turned to pull your baked goods out of the oven and set them on the stove. You quickly turned the oven off before turning back to him.

MC: Also aren’t you the only Lemurian left Rafayel: Me and my aunt Talia … wait!

He grips you by the shoulders

Rafayel: Was it her?! I knew it! I'll be back MC: NO! I-

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence as he turned on his heels and made a beeline for the front door. You try to stop him from storming out the door, but he was too fast. You stare at the door dumbfounded because you still have no clue what the actual fuck glubbanese is.

Xavier

Xavier was the perfect body pillow to lean against while you read a book. Perhaps you were a little too immersed in your book because when the major plot twist came the most unintelligible string of gibberish came out of your mouth. You felt Xavier stiffen behind you which broke you immersion.

MC: What's wrong? Xavier: Why did you say that? MC: Say what? Xavier: You just said something rather strange in Philosian MC: I said what in philosophy? Xavier: I’d rather not repeat it MC: Xav I literally just made a random noise Xavier: Well that random noise is ‘hairy anus’ in philosian MC: WHAT???

You sat up so fast you somehow managed to fall off the couch hitting your elbow on the coffee table. Xavier pulled you back onto the couch checking to make sure you were okay before you notice the grin he’s trying to hold back. He finds this whole thing hilarious.

MC: Stop laughing! Xavier: I should’ve known you didn’t mean to say that MC: I didn’t say anything I made a random noise Xavier: I’m sure you’ll be more careful next time MC: If Philosian sounds like random throat noises then yea I guess I'll be more careful

Sylus

You were laying on the plush couch in Sylus’ study while he was taking a few business calls. He said he would be done soon however the boredom was getting to you. With absolutely zero thought you blurted out a random noise. You didn’t think much of it until you looked over and saw Sylus starring at you; his brows furrowed and his head cocked. You sat up confused on why he was looking at you as if you’d just called him a no neck bitch or something.

Sylus: Where did you learn that? And when? MC: Learn what? Sylus: You just tried to curse me MC: I didn’t do anything…… Sylus: That was a curse in ancient Philosian MC: That was random gibberish Sylus: …. MC: Fix your face Sylus: Trying to get rid of me sweetie? MC: I’m not trying to do anything! Sylus: Unfortunately for you those curses don’t work on me you’ll have to try something else MC: What in the blue hell do you mean ‘try something else’ I didn’t try anything in the first place!

Ever since you supposedly tried to curse him in a language you’d never heard of he’s constantly teasing you. He checks in from time to time to see if you’ve taught yourself any new spells and you tell him the same thing every time.

MC: Sylus it was a random noise Sylus: Keep telling yourself that Sorceress

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beloveds-embrace · 28 days ago

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(Part two of this: “house-trained” simon riley)

The second visit to Ghost’s cozy cottage started with the same mixture of disbelief and awe as the first. The team once again found themselves surrounded by pastel walls, cheerful flower boxes, and an overwhelming sense of warmth that clashed with every preconceived notion they’d had about their masked lieutenant, but at least this time it was a mere courtesy visit and without the worries of needing to stay hidden hanging over them.

The morning began with the usual spectacle: Simon quietly, happily obeying your every request without a care about his team’s amused stares.

“Si, love, could you grab the butter from the fridge?”

Simon stood immediately, massive frame moving through the delicate kitchen with surprising ease. He returned with the butter in hand and set it on the counter, earning a soft, “Thank you, darling.” And a gentle kiss to his temple.

Soap snorted from the couch, where he was wrapped in one of your soft, pastel-colored blankets. He loved them- had spent the entire time before having one on his shoulders, and this time it’d been the first thing he asked for. “Still can’t believe this is you, L.T.”

“Believe it.” Simon replied flatly, brushing his hand against the small of your back as he walked by.

But this time, you didn’t stop with Simon.

“Johnny?” You called sweetly, stepping into the living room with a tray in hand.

Soap looked up, a crumb of your delicious cookies already on his chin. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” You giggled, setting the tray on the coffee table. “Would you mind fluffing the pillows for me? They’re looking a bit flat.”

Soap blinked, still not sure he heard right. “You’re asking me to- ?”

“I would ask Simon, of course,” you said innocently, a little pout on your lips. “But he’s busy getting the sugar for tea. You’re not busy, are you?”

Caught in your warm, expectant gaze, Soap sighed, tossing the blanket aside (gently) with a dramatic groan. “Fine, fine, hen. I’ll fluff your bloody pillows.”

“Thank you, Johnny!” You beamed.

Gaz laughed as Soap began half-heartedly fluffing the floral cushions, grumbling under his breath the entire time- though they were all light grumbles.

“You’ll get used to it.” Simon said dryly, walking past with a jar of sugar in hand. “Good on her for not having you just sit on your arse.”

“Gaz,” you said brightly, then, turning your attention to him. “Do you mind helping me bring in the tea trays? I’ve got too much to carry, and I’d hate to make Simon do it all.”

Gaz stood at attention at your call of his name, caught off guard. “I- yes, Ma’am.”

You led him into the kitchen, where a tray laden with delicate china teacups and a teapot sat waiting. “Careful,” you said gently, placing another tray of sandwiches into his hands. “These teacups are my grandmother’s, and they’re quite old.”

You got them from a thrift shop, but who said you can’t have a little fun?

Gaz nodded earnestly, gripping the tray with the utmost care- as if it was a secret weapon, or a file with the most important information recorded on earth. He carried it like he was on a mission. When he re-entered the living room, Soap was still fluffing pillows, now with exaggerated vigor, muttering. “Is this fluffy enough for ya, lass?”

“Perfect, thank you.” You said as you placed a small vase of flowers on the coffee table. “Oh, Captain?”

Price looked up from where he’d been lounging by the window, his hands resting comfortably on his knees. He’d been amused at how you basically commanded his men, but now that your attention was on him…

“Would you mind slicing the lemon for the tea?” you asked softly and sweetly, holding out a small knife and a lemon. “Your hands look steady. I want good, even slices, please. You seem like the type to do it properly the first time.”

Caught between amusement and curiosity, Price rose from his seat and took the knife and lemon from you. He stood by the kitchen counter, slicing perfect, even rounds of lemon while Simon watched from his chair, clearly enjoying the sight of even his commanding officer being gently bossed around.

By the time the tea was ready, Soap had been roped into setting the table with floral plates and napkins (“Really? Floral?”

“Why not? The blankets you like so much also have floral designs!”)

Gaz was carrying plates of cheeses and olives with the care of a man defusing a bomb, and Price was pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You floated through the room with a soft, effortless authority, gently directing each of them like it was second nature.

“Johnny, could you fetch the coasters from the drawer? I don’t want the table getting scratched.”

“Kyle, do you mind straightening that picture frame? It’s a little crooked.”

“Captain, would you light that candle? It’s my favorite scent, and I think you’d like it too.”

And somehow, none of them could say no to you. Not like they even considered it.

By the time everyone was seated, Simon pulled out your chair for you, his large hand resting briefly on your shoulder before he sat beside you. Soap stared at the table, now perfectly set and adorned with delicate tea accoutrements, and declared: “I think we just got outmaneuvered by a woman in a cardigan.”

“Outclassed, more like.” Gaz added, reaching for the olive oil and za’atar plate.

But when you turned that radiant smile on them, warmly thanking them for their help, none of them could bring themselves to mind. And with Simon watching as well, none of them even dared to mind.

#noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagines #simon riley imagines #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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wchswift · 1 month ago

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ଓ The apple pie life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: you and Dean are tasked with going undercover as a married couple in a suburban neighborhood to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances linked to a local HOA. Content: fluff, one kiss, angst (kinda), idiots oblivious to their own feelings, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, demons, spells, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 4k a/n: I've been keeping this in my drafts for a while now and while life happens and I work on my dofp!logan one shot, I decided to post this :) I hope you enjoy it

mdni 𖤐 18+

“Yeah, no. This ain’t happening.” Dean Winchester stood at the edge of a freshly mowed lawn, surveying the neighborhood like it was a Hellmouth in disguise. Which, for all they knew, it very well could be. Rows of cookie-cutter houses lined the street, each painted in calming shades of beige, sage, or blue. Even the mailboxes were identical. Dean glared at one as if it had personally offended him.

Sam sighed, arms crossed, watching his brother’s tantrum. “Dean, it’s a neighborhood. Not a death sentence.”

“You’re asking me to pretend to be Mr. Suburbia. Me. You know I don’t do...” Dean gestured vaguely at a garden gnome. “This.”

Standing between the two of them, you held a faux wedding photo that Sam had printed for the cover story. “We’re married. You’re a mechanic. I work from home. We moved here for the good schools. Sound familiar?” you said with a smirk, holding the picture up.

Dean snatched the frame and scowled at the image. “I look like a hostage,” he muttered.

“You always look like that,” you shot back. “Now come on, let’s get unpacked. Our ‘friendly neighborhood welcome committee’ is stopping by in an hour.”

Dean groaned, but there was no backing out. Sam had been adamant: five people had disappeared from this very block in the past six months. The only connection? All were new to the neighborhood, and all had been avid participants in the HOA’s activities.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, hoisting a box from the Impala. “But I’m not calling you ‘honey.”

Dean’s idea of "unpacking" consisted of dumping boxes onto the floor and shoving furniture into place like he was playing Tetris with his life. You trailed behind him, trying to make the house look halfway livable. It wasn't easy; the entire setup resembled a sitcom scenario, complete with ruffled curtains and throw pillows that Sam insisted would help you blend in.

Dean picked up one of the pillows, squinting at the stitched slogan: Home Sweet Home. “This thing screams demon bait,” he muttered, tossing it onto the couch.

“Maybe if you acted like a halfway decent husband, it wouldn’t,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from Sam.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean shot back, hauling a box of what appeared to be mismatched kitchen supplies onto the counter. “This is my nightmare, by the way. Thought you should know.”

“It’s not exactly a dream for me either, sweetie,” you replied, stressing the endearment with a sugary grin. Dean’s eye roll could’ve powered the whole neighborhood.

The doorbell chimed just as you finished arranging a vase of fake flowers in the living room. Dean peered through the peephole like he expected to see a mob of demons. Instead, a group of impeccably dressed neighbors smiled back at him.

“Kill me now,” Dean muttered, opening the door.

A blonde woman with a Stepford-wife grin and a clipboard stepped forward. “Hi there! Welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Lana, the HOA president. And these are Sheila and Rick, your next-door neighbors!”

Dean gave his best approximation of a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “Uh, hey. I’m Dean. This is my—uh—wife.”

You plastered on your most winning smile and shook hands all around. “So nice to meet you all!”

Lana’s eyes swept over the living room, clearly appraising your decor. “You’ve done such a lovely job already! Oh, and Dean, we’ll have our weekly HOA meeting at the clubhouse tomorrow night. We expect all new residents to attend. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Dean opened his mouth, likely to come up with an excuse, but you elbowed him. “We’d love to,” you said quickly.

“Wonderful!” Lana chirped. “I’ll leave you with the neighborhood handbook. Everything you need to know is right here.” She handed over a spiral-bound monstrosity of rules and regulations before bustling off with her entourage.

Dean stared at the handbook like it might explode. “Fifty bucks says they’re part of a cult.”

That night, Sam joined you both in the kitchen, where you poured over the HOA handbook. Sam had come by under the guise of helping you move in but was really playing the role of a nosy family friend who conveniently lived a few towns over.

“Okay,” Sam said, flipping through pages. “This is weird. Every house here has to have a specific type of lawn ornament? And look at this—rules about curfew, holiday decorations, even what kind of car you can park in your driveway.”

“Classic control freaks,” Dean muttered, popping open a beer.

“Or something worse,” Sam countered, pointing to a line about mandatory attendance at neighborhood socials. “People start disappearing, and the HOA gets more power over the remaining residents. It seems like they're under some spell… perhaps they made a pact? Maybe with a demon.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So it’s not just bad casseroles we have to survive.”

“We need to hit that meeting tomorrow,” you said. “Whatever’s going on, that’s where we’ll find the first clue.”

The next evening, you and Dean made your way to the HOA meeting at the neighborhood clubhouse, blending in among the perfectly groomed crowd. Everyone was dressed like they were auditioning for a suburban magazine spread: crisp polos, floral blouses, and smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Dean leaned closer to you, muttering, “Tell me this doesn’t feel like a Stepford reboot.”

You elbowed him lightly, smiling for the neighbors. “Try to look like you’re not plotting their demise, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, adjusting his flannel like it was armor. “Let’s just hope these people don’t sacrifice newcomers to their God of Lawn Care.”

Inside the clubhouse, Lana, the HOA president, stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. She welcomed everyone with her signature cheerfulness, but you couldn’t miss the way her eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on the newcomers—you and Dean.

“Now, let’s get started!” she chirped. “First order of business: Mr. Peterson’s garden gnomes. We’ve had complaints they’re too whimsical.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at you, mouthing, too whimsical? You struggled not to laugh.

The meeting droned on, a mix of petty complaints and rigid enforcement of bizarre rules, until Lana’s tone shifted.

“And finally,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, “a reminder that all residents are expected to attend next week’s neighborhood barbecue. Remember, harmony is our greatest strength. We’re all part of something... bigger here.”

Her words sent a ripple of unease through the room. Most of the neighbors nodded dutifully, but a few glanced nervously at each other. You caught Dean’s gaze, and his expression was sharp, all traces of humor gone.

Later that night, back at the house, you pored over what you’d observed with Sam and Dean.

“It’s not just the rules,” you said, pacing the living room. “It’s the way they act. Like they’re afraid of stepping out of line.”

“And what’s with Lana’s ‘bigger picture’ speech?” Dean added, tossing the HOA handbook onto the coffee table. “She’s definitely hiding something.”

Sam tapped at his laptop. “I did some digging. Lana moved into this neighborhood ten years ago, right before the HOA’s rules got so strict. Before that? No disappearances, no creepy cult vibes.”

Dean frowned. “So she’s the ringleader?”

“More like the summoner,” Sam replied, turning the screen to show an old news clipping. It detailed Lana’s involvement in occult studies years ago. “If she’s behind this, it’s not merely a pact. It’s using the HOA to enforce perfection, as it literally sustains the spell that keeps it anchored here.”

“So, the HOA handbook’s not just a pain in the ass,” you said, glancing at Dean. “It’s the demon’s playbook.”

The next morning, Dean decided to “blend in” by taking his role as a suburban husband to absurd levels.

You came downstairs to find him in an apron, flipping pancakes with an exaggerated flourish. “Morning, sweetheart!” he called, his grin annoyingly smug.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Being the perfect husband,” he said, loading a plate with a stack of slightly burnt pancakes. “You should try it sometime, darling.”

The sarcasm in his tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “If this is your idea of perfection, the demon’s going to smite us before lunch.”

Dean’s antics didn’t stop at pancakes. Later that day, he decided to tackle the front yard—shirtless, of course, because “that’s what husbands do, right?”

You stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as he wrestled with the garden hose like it owed him money. His flannel was tossed onto a nearby fence, leaving his t-shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner. The summer sun glinted off his shoulders, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, you couldn’t help but stare.

“You know,” you called out, fighting a smirk, “the neighbors are going to think you’re some kind of exhibitionist.”

Dean glanced up, his grin wolfish. “Or they’ll think you’re married to the best damn landscaper on the block.”

“You missed a spot.” You pointed at a section of the lawn.

He mock-groaned, holding a hand to his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Man slaves away, and this is the thanks he gets? No wonder I’m burned out on marriage.”

“Burned out implies you ever tried,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean’s expression shifted, just for a moment—a flash of something vulnerable, quickly buried under his usual bravado. “Yeah, well... guess I never found the right reason to try.”

The air between you grew heavier, the teasing edge dulled by an undercurrent you didn’t quite know how to address. He broke eye contact first, turning back to the yard. “Don’t just stand there, princess. Grab a rake or something.”

The barbecue was the kind of event you’d have laughed at if you weren’t actively part of it. Neatly arranged folding tables with checkered cloths stretched across the neighborhood park, and neighbors mingled with drinks in hand, every one of them smiling just a little too wide.

Dean leaned against the grill, flipping burgers with the same intensity he used while sharpening knives. “This is a trap. You know that, right?” he muttered, glancing around.

“Obviously,” you replied, sipping a too-sweet lemonade. “But we’re undercover, remember? Try to act like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Dean’s grin was laced with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, I’m having a blast. Love talking about lawn fertilizer and HOA-approved fence heights.”

Just then, Lana appeared beside the two of you, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm. “Dean, those burgers smell amazing! And you—” She turned to you with that polished grin. “You’re just glowing, aren’t you? Married life suits you two so well.”

Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, slung an arm around your shoulders. “Well, Lana, we’re just one big, happy couple.” He punctuated the sentence with a quick kiss to your temple, the smug look on his face daring you to react.

You forced a tight smile. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Lana beamed, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wonderful to hear. It’s so important to maintain harmony in the neighborhood.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “After all, everything falls apart if even one house doesn’t meet expectations.”

Dean’s arm stiffened against your shoulder, his instincts flaring. “Is that right?”

Lana nodded, her expression unreadable. “Absolutely. Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy the barbecue!”

Once Lana was out of earshot, you and Dean regrouped with Sam near the dessert table.

“She’s hiding something,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

“Definitely,” Dean agreed, setting his plate down. “And what’s with the whole ‘harmony’ thing? She sounded like a cult leader.”

Sam nodded, keeping his voice low. “She is. It is indeed a deal, an exchange. The more the neighborhood conforms to the rules, the stronger it gets. People who can’t meet the standards? They’re the ones who disappear.”

You frowned. “So the HOA rules aren’t just annoying—they’re literally fuel for this thing.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Well, good news. We’ve got the perfect distraction right here.” He gestured at himself and you with a smirk.

“Perfect distraction?” you repeated.

“Think about it,” he said. “We’re new, we’re not exactly HOA material, and if anyone’s gonna tick off a demon about their precious rules, it’s us.”

Sam sighed. “Just be careful. If the demon gets wind of what you’re doing, it won’t wait for you to break a rule—it’ll come for you directly.”

The first crack in the HOA’s perfectly polished façade came two days after Dean decided to rebel in his own loud, stubborn way. The offending incident? A single garden gnome—brightly painted and flipping the bird—set proudly on your front lawn.

You crossed your arms, staring at the gnome as Dean lounged against the doorframe. “Really?”

Dean grinned, proud as a kid showing off a bad report card. “What? It’s art.”

“It’s bait,” you corrected, shaking your head.

“Exactly.” He smirked, arms crossed. “Lana won’t know what hit her.”

Sure enough, Lana arrived within the hour, clipboard in hand and fury barely masked beneath her painted smile. “Dean, we need to discuss your lawn decorations,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dean stepped outside, wearing the smuggest expression you’d ever seen. “What’s the problem, Lana? Don’t you like art?”

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before recovering. “This neighborhood thrives on harmony. Your—choice of ornament—disrupts that balance.”

Dean leaned casually against the porch railing. “Huh. Didn’t see anything in the handbook about freedom of expression being against the rules.”

You watched from the window, biting back a laugh as Lana sputtered, her usual control slipping. She left with a curt, “This isn’t over.”

After Lana stormed off, you expected Dean to be all bravado and quips, but instead, he started fixing the fence. It was such a rare sight that you almost did a double take.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the porch post.

“Making sure the place doesn’t fall apart,” Dean replied, hammering a nail into place. “If we’re staying here long enough to take down a demon, might as well make it look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were so handy, Mr. Winchester.”

He smirked, not looking up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m full of surprises.”

That night, you found Dean in the kitchen, you noticed Dean seemed... different. Focused. Almost like he belonged here. He stirred a pot of chili with a level of precision that rivaled his aim with a gun.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remarked, leaning against the counter.

Dean shrugged. “I used to cook for Sammy when we were kids. Guess some habits stick.”

The soft admission caught you off guard. For all his bravado, moments like these reminded you of the man underneath—the one who took care of everyone else, even when he didn’t have to.

“This is weird,” you muttered, setting the table.

Dean looked over at you. “What is?”

“You. Doing all this domestic stuff. It’s like you’re... enjoying it.”

Dean shrugged, placing the bowls of chili on the table. “I don’t hate it. Beats getting shot at every day.”

“Guess you’re not half-bad at this husband thing after all,” you teased.

Dean smirked, his usual cockiness back in place. “Don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.”

Later, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through channels. Sam had gone back to his motel, leaving you and Dean with a rare bit of downtime.

The sound of the TV faded into the background as Dean spoke up. “You ever think about it? A normal life, I mean.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

He leaned back, one hand draped along the back of the couch, his expression unusually serious. “I don’t know. It’s just... this case, all this fake domestic stuff... It’s kinda nice. Not worrying about what’s lurking around the corner every second.”

“You’ve never thought about it before?” you asked gently.

Dean gave a short laugh, his gaze distant. “Nah. Figured it wasn’t in the cards. Even when I was a kid, normal wasn’t exactly in the Winchester playbook.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected.

“Maybe it’s not about the cards you’re dealt,” you said softly. “Maybe it’s about finding your own kind of normal.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, but he broke the gaze first, his usual smirk returning. “Well, my kind of normal definitely involves better TV shows than this crap.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Fair enough.”

The tender moment passed quickly as the two of you turned back to the case.

The next morning, Sam returned with a crucial discovery. “Lana made a deal with a demon ten years ago. She wanted the perfect neighborhood, and the demon delivered. But the cost? Anyone who doesn’t fit her version of perfection gets sacrificed to keep the deal going.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So she’s trading lives for lawn perfection? Well, that’s messed up.”

Sam nodded. “It thrives off the conformity she enforces. The more people play by the rules, the stronger the demon gets. The ones who disappear? They’re used as sacrifices to maintain the spell.”

Dean stood abruptly. “Great. So we take down the demon, and her whole Stepford act goes up in flames.” He looked at you. “But first, we gotta piss her off enough to make a move.”

After talkng with Sam, you and Dean turned the dial on your undercover roles.

You started your day loudly arguing in the driveway about “trivial” things—how Dean never folded the laundry right, how you “always” bought the wrong coffee creamer.

Dean played it up like a pro, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Fine! Next time, you go grocery shopping!”

“Oh, because you’re so busy, huh?” you shot back, struggling not to laugh.

So you two just keeped violating the rules. Determined to push Lana past her breaking point, Dean added strung mismatched Christmas lights across the front porch, even though it was July.

“Dean,” you said, standing in the driveway with crossed arms, “I’m pretty sure even the demon is rolling its eyes at this point.”

Dean grinned as he plugged in the lights, which flickered in a garish rainbow. “Oh, come on, admit it. This is the most fun we’ve had on a case in months.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re married to me,” he shot back, winking. “You know,” Dean said, leaning in close as you adjusted the strand of blinking lights, “we make a pretty good team when we’re breaking all the rules.”

You smirked. “Better than your pancake-making team, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Touché.”

Lanas’s car pulled up just as Dean propped his flamingo lawn ornament next to the mailbox. Her expression was a masterclass in repressed rage as she stepped out, clipboard in hand.

“Dean!” she barked, her voice sharp enough to make the neighbors glance over from their gardening.

He sauntered up to her, feigning innocence. “Morning, Lana. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Her smile was brittle, her grip on the clipboard tightening. “We need to talk.”

Dean’s escalating antics had done the trick. By the time night fell, Lana’s perfectly polished demeanor had cracked. She called an emergency HOA meeting, under the pretense of “addressing a disturbance in harmony.”

“You ready for this?” Dean asked as the three of you crouched outside the clubhouse, peeking through a window.

“I’ve been ready since the gnome,” you replied, flashing him a quick grin.

Sam whispered, “Looks like she’s prepping for a ritual. We need to stop her before she completes it.”

Dean nodded. “Sam, you cut off the ritual. We’ll handle Lana.”

“We?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean smirked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” you shot back, but the teasing tone didn’t quite mask the warmth in your words.

The two of you burst through the clubhouse door just as Lana lit the final candle on an ornate altar covered in sigils. The neighbors, all eerily quiet, stood in a semicircle around her, their expressions blank and glassy-eyed.

“Lana!” Dean called out, his voice cutting through the room. “You forgot to put this on the HOA agenda.”

She turned, her face twisting into something feral. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “This neighborhood is perfect because of me. Because of what I’ve done!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, your definition of perfect kinda sucks.”

Lana snarled, grabbing a knife from the altar and lunging at him. You moved instinctively, stepping in to block her path. Together, you and Dean fought her off, moving in perfect sync.

She was fast, unnaturally so, but you matched her step for step, Dean covering your back with practiced ease. At one point, she swung the knife in a wide arc, and Dean caught her wrist, twisting it just enough for you to knock the blade free.

“You good?” he asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m fine. You?”

“Peachy,” he replied, his grin full of adrenaline-fueled bravado.

Behind you, Sam chanted Latin, his voice steady as he worked to dismantle the ritual. The sigils on the altar began to glow, flickering as the power binding the neighborhood started to unravel.

Realizing she was losing, Lana screamed, “You’ll ruin everything! Without this deal, this place will fall apart!”

Dean shrugged, stepping closer. “Good. Then maybe it’ll feel a little more human.” With a final swing, he knocked her unconscious, the force of it sending her crumpling to the floor.

Sam finished the ritual just as the sigils burned out entirely, plunging the room into silence. The neighbors blinked, their blank expressions fading as they seemed to wake from a dream.

“It’s over,” Dean said, his voice low.

Outside the clubhouse, you leaned against the Impala, catching your breath. The air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the neighborhood’s perfection finally lifted.

Dean stood a few feet away, looking at you with an unreadable expression. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You okay?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” you teased, but the smile you gave him was gentle.

Dean’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he’d been holding back—relief, affection, gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Took me long enough, huh?”

You laughed softly, your hand resting against his chest. “Yeah. But worth the wait.”

᭝ ᨳଓ𓂃⋆.

The next morning, as the three of you packed up to leave, Dean was back to his usual self—mostly.

Dean hesitated, glancing at the house. “Gotta admit,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “this whole domestic thing... wasn’t the worst.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you hated it.” Dean smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, turns out I don’t suck at it. Could even get used to it, maybe.”

“You know,” he said, leaning against the Impala as you loaded the last bag into the trunk, “this whole married thing has its perks.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Yeah. Hot meals, shared insurance benefits, someone to remind me when I forget my wallet.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He shook his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. “Maybe in another life.”

You didn’t answer, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. Dean opened the driver’s side door, his usual cocky grin back in place. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hit the road.” You climbed in, Dean kissing you on the head before closing the door.

As the Impala roared to life and the too-perfect neighborhood disappeared in the rearview mirror, you couldn’t help but think about Dean’s earlier words. Maybe this undercover mission had been more than just a case.

Maybe, in some small way, it had given both of you a glimpse of what could be.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#dean winchester 🪽#dean winchester angst #dean winchester one shot #dean supernatural #supernatural dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem reader #dean winchester drabble #jackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles drabble #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #supernatural drabble #dean winchester fluff

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httpsleclerc · 2 months ago

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Day 1 - Tangled Lights with Dad!Charles Leclerc and Mom!Verstappen!Reader Reader

pairings: Dad!Charles Leclerc x Mom!Verstappen!Reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1.2k

a/n: welcome to the first day of the 12 days of fluff-mas!!!

12 days of fluff-mas masterlist! // my main masterlist <3

"Daddy, when are we going to put the decorations on the tree," Your oldest son, Jules, whined. Charles laughed at the attitude of his 4 year old son, he claimed that his love of complaining was all Verstappen. "Daddy it's not funny! What if Santa comes and we don't have the tree to look good!"

"You know, Jules, Santa doesn't come to see the tree, he comes for milk and cookies, and to leave all of your presents under the tree," Charles reminded your son, smiling as he sat down beside him. "And anyway, we can't start decorating the tree until your sister stops trying to eat the lights." He motioned over to your daughter, Elodie, who sat with the string of warm white Christmas lights on her lap, carefully placing one in her mouth before quickly spitting them out.

"Maman, lights no good!" The toddler yelled for you, holding the bundle of lights up to you, her small features knit together in frustration as she pouted. You smiled as you came out of the kitchen, normally, the mess in the living room would have sent you spiralling, but as you took in the sight of your small family decorating the tree together, you realised that you couldn't be mad. You groaned slightly as you bent over to pick Elodie up, pushing her blonde hair out of her face. "Yucky."

"That is because you are not supposed to eat the lights, Elodie," You smiled at her, watching as she pouted and crossed her arms. "Now, how are the boys getting on? Are you two going to sort these lights out or do I need to get involved?" You raised your eyebrows at Charles and Jules, the two of them looked away from you, slightly embarrassed, more from your husband, that he hadn't managed to untangle the lights.

"Mama, I tried to tell daddy!" Your son ran to you, barrelling into your legs. "I told daddy we need to hurry or Santa's gonna be here and then the tree isn't going to be done!" He whined, making you laugh. "Maman it's not funny!"

"You're so funny, Jules," You picked your son up, holding him at your hip opposite his sister. "You two go and sit with daddy and help decorate the tree while I untangle these lights." You kicked the lights to the side as you walked over to your husband, placing your children down beside him.

"I think that Elodie made them slippery enough for you, cherie," Charles said, nodding to how your daughter had previously been attempting to eat the lights. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him.

"I didn't see you trying to stop her, Cha," You playfully scolded him, making him blush and look away from you. You worked at the lights for a couple of minutes, having gotten bored of helping her dad and brother decorate the bottom of the tree, Elodie made her way back over to you, plopping herself down onto your lap. "Elodie, Schatje, you need to stand up for just a second so that mama can untangle the last light." You told her, gently patting her back so that she would stand up.

"Bored mama," She pouted, shaking her head as she stood up, peering over to watch your hands intricately untangle the lights.

"There, all done," You announced triumphantly, holding the string lights up towards your son and husband. "Okay, you two can pick out a special ornament that you want to put on the tree, okay?" Elodie and Jules nodded, running to dig through the box of sentimental ornaments - Neither you or Charles liked to overload the tree with the special ornaments, it wasn't that you didn't want the tree to look tacky, you just wanted the special decorations to have their moments, and you could tell the stories of what they meant when people asked you.

You and Charles carefully wrapped the tree with the warm lights, the tree instantly become the centrepiece of your living room, save for the log burner fireplace for the stockings hanging on it with the initials of yours, Charles, and your children's names.

"Maman, I want this one! It's uncle Max's car!" Jules called out, running over to you and Charles with the F1 car ornament, adorned in the red, navy blue and yellow colours of your brother's F1 car. Charles frowned, here he was, his own son, picking your brother's car over his - Charles' pout made you laugh, almost enough to drop the string of lights in your hands. "This my favourite car!"

"What about mine, Jules?" Charles asked, crouching down in front of his son, who shrugged and put the Red Bull ornament into his father's hands. The two of you looked over as Elodie whined, stomping her feet. "Uh oh." He looked up to you, watching as you nodded and set your part of the lights down, Charles continuing to wrap the lights around the tree.

"Elodie, what's wrong, baby?" You asked your daughter, kneeling down in front of her and placing your hands on her shoulders. She sniffled as she tried her hardest to compose herself, although you had told her that she didn't need to, that it was okay for her to be upset and express her feelings.

"No find daddy car," She choked out, crying into your shoulder as she fell into your arms. You rubbed your daughter's back soothingly, your heart breaking at her apparent distress.

"Shhh, it's okay, my love, it's all okay, I'm sure that we'll find daddy's car, why don't you let mama look, hm?" She sniffled and nodded, holding onto you as you looked through the box for the red car with the number 16 on it. "...See, there it is, baby. It's okay, you take it and go and give it to daddy." You smiled at her as she toddled over to her father, holding the red car up to him. Charles grinned as he took the car from his young daughter, placing it on a branch of the tree that remained empty.

You sighed in relief, happy that you were able to put a stop to your daughter's tantrum before it got any worse. You grinned as you stood behind your small family, watching as Charles bent down to pick Elodie up, you giving her the star as her father guided her hands to the top branch of the tree, placing the star on top of the branch.

You smiled as you picked Jules up, holding him on your hip as you stepped back with Charles, Elodie on his shoulders as the four of you admired your hard work. "You know, it actually looks really good, considering we had a one year old trying to eat the lights." Charles laughed, almost wincing as he felt his daughter tugging on his hair.

"I think that's the best that we've ever had it, Cherie."

"The best so far, my love."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #dad!charles leclerc #Dad!charles #verstappen!reader

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elysiankub · 20 days ago

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Our cozy home ── ⟢

pairing: jayvik x fem!artist!reader

content: fluffy, poly relationship, established relationship, no mention of Y/N, smut (nsfw), MDNI!, threesome, oral male receiving, praise kink, double penetration

word account: 2.1~k

a/n: so i finally found the courage to write sth here and here it goes. please don't make it flop, i really tried my best and had this idea in my mind since S2 ended and thinking about this scenario was my only way to cope with losing my wives. english is not my first language so excuse me for any wrong spelling. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Routines were the only thing that could keep the most promising minds of Piltover at bay. When Jayce's arms ached from hammering metal or when the chalk from Viktor's endless notes made him cough terribly, arriving at the apartment they shared with their partner was the only thing that made them look forward to at the end of their day. Piltover, luckily, was the city of progress, although they always liked the idea of having something private, that only they could enjoy. They knew that they would not suffer from any discrimination, who would judge the minds that made the rich houses richer?

Almost dragging their limbs to the door of their home, they pushed the door open as they spoke in monosyllables about the routine they would do the next day to improve hextech, keep the council at bay, and make the world a better place.

The sound of pencil against paper, the smell of blue tea, and the oatmeal cookies you made zealously enough to share your recipe with Councilor Medarda made them both breathe a sigh of relief as Jayce hung his coat on the coat rack and Viktor undid his tie with a groan.

“Hey.” You greeted quietly as you closed your sketchbook and shook your hands despite the nonexistent paint or charcoal on your fingers, a flaw from spending so much time in your art studio.

As soon as you had stood up, Jayce’s arms were around your waist and his face was hidden in the crook of your neck, making your skin crawl every time he breathed in your natural fragrance. It had always seemed cute to you and Viktor how a bear of a man could be so needy and clingy to those who gave him a few words of praise and affection.

"It was a terrible day." Jayce murmured against your skin, closing the space between your chests even further and placing small kisses on your skin.

"Oh babe, why? What happened?" You asked stroking his hair with one hand and putting the other against his shoulder, comforting him as if your life depended on it. Your eyes were guided to the thinner man who walked, limping, towards you with his crutch and placed a kiss on your forehead before heading into the kitchen with little intention of comforting his boyfriend. "Vik?"

"Polly wants a cookie." He said in a monotone voice with that heavy accent that made you and Jayce feel just a little excited when you heard him speak, even if the first thing he said in the mornings was that the milk was expired. As soon as his slender fingers found the plate of cookies and held it close to his chest, almost near his collarbones, he deigned to have a more focused look. "He's exaggerating, wants attention."

"Liar." Jayce scolded, tilting his head and looking at his lover with half his face hidden in your shoulder.

"He was summoned to a meeting with the Council to discuss Hextech's progress and he had to listen to what everyone wanted to say for-"

"For almost three hours!"

Jayce's voice was clearly listless and tired and Viktor could only nod as he took a bite of another of the cookies he had in his hands. You just shook your head and let Jayce hunch over until his head was between your breasts, giving small kisses on your skin and growling almost like a wet and angry puppy. You couldn't help but laugh at the image but you just took Jayce's cheeks in your hands and caressed the small stubble that was beginning to appear from the little time you had spent at home the last few days.

"How about you two go and take a bath? Afterwards we can get some sleep, okay?"

Jayce just nodded, leaning down to capture your lips with his and retreating after a few minutes to the bathroom in the room. When you were going to approach Viktor, he just handed you his plate with a satisfied face. He had a bad habit of getting upset when he didn't eat, although strangely enough he always forgot to eat.

"How...?" You asked, seeing that in less than five minutes he had finished the entire plate of cookies you had left to cool.

"Meh. Something I learned a long time ago." Viktor said, shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smile as he walked to the bathroom to join Jayce in the shower. Of course, people in Zaun had to eat fast or eat nothing. It was the law of the strongest. No matter how much Viktor had risen in social class, it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks.

The home was dimly lit with the yellow lights that Jayce had installed, to save on heating or at least that's what they told themselves. In reality, the lights went further than just tricking your brain into thinking the place was warm. The tone made your lips shine even more, Jayce's skin looked like the dull fire of a campfire and Viktor's eyes resembled the gold of the walls. Plus it was so comfortable to see that tone, the three of you hugged under the covers and hiding from the cold that was outside your apartment.

None of you had ever had a real home, really. You had fought so much that you had forgotten what a single moment of peace was, where you shouldn't be under the public eye of the Council, writing down the Dean's endless to-do notebooks and hating the deadline dates for the family pictures of each important house.

Each one had their assigned task and their favorite at the same time. Jayce loved cooking, waking you and Viktor up to the smell of hot pancakes and coffee, or quickly thinking of what he could make for dinner when everyone finished their chores and gathered back at home. Viktor, oh right, the laundry. There wasn’t a stain that wasn’t removed by his hands and clothes that weren’t neatly folded in the drawers assigned to each one.

After tidying up the kitchen a bit so Jayce wouldn’t end up freaking out the next morning, you went up to the shared room with the long bed with white sheets that the three of you used, throwing your sandals somewhere in the room as you climbed into bed to wait for your partners, who didn’t take long to emerge from the bathroom.

Viktor came out in a large t-shirt and only his underwear underneath, sitting on the bed and adjusting the knee immobilizer that kept him standing and taking his place on the bed. Jayce walked out with just a towel around his waist and rummaged through the drawers for his boxers, which he slid up until they covered his manhood.

Shortly after taking your place, the sound of springs under the bed, a strong heat on your side and the weight of strong arms and legs against your body disoriented you a little until you distinguished the figure of Jayce giving you kisses on the cheeks and shoulder. At the side of you, Viktor seemed completely unaware of the situation, with the book he had been putting off for a long time because he 'didn't have time to read' and a frown as he refused to wear reading glasses despite the tired eyesight he normally had.

That fluttering heat that settles in your stomach appeared in yours, when Jayce's kisses descended towards your shoulders and chest leaving open, clumsy and wet kisses against your sensitive skin for the human oven that was your partner.

"Let me..." You said in a sigh, taking Jayce's shoulders and guiding him until he lay down on the bed, his skin contrasting against the sheets and that made it even more exciting.

Your hands traced his body with desire but with that ever-present admiration, almost like touching a newly made statue that could crumble at any moment if you showed it a little disdain. The marks of fire, hammer blows and effort on his skin were reminiscent of cracks in the ground, strong and present but so intimidating that you can only have respect and even desire for them.

The artist's delirium, seeing everything poetic, even sex.

The bulge in Jayce's boxers became more and more evident as his partner's fingers went down to the hem of his underwear to remove it, it hadn't even helped to put them on in the first place. His breathing shortened a little and he searched for oxygen on Viktor's lips, whom he took by the cheeks while searching for his mouth with his eyes closed until he found it. The man didn't know how to react for a moment, deep in reading and still looking at the pages of his book, but the dark-haired boy's kisses made him postpone his reading, perhaps for later.

Your hand also made its way to Viktor's new one as you noticed his now active participation in the act, running your fingertips with almost torturous tenderness over the nascent bulge in his crotch.

As soon as you realized, they were both naked, as were you, but your mouth was too busy to utter any complaints.

"Fuck... Just like that-" A moan cut short Jayce's compliment, arching his back and pushing his member further into your mouth as if that were still possible. His moans tasted delicious and even yours did to him, as the vibrations you generated on his sensitive tip made him see stars and squeeze the hand of his lab partner, who was perhaps in the same position.

Viktor's shaft throbbed with a need that your hand alone couldn't satisfy, as the image was enough to make him jealous of your mouth and, in turn, of Jayce's manhood. His hand lowered to your cheek, although only the back of his hand touched your chin, as a slight plea to receive the same attention from you.

Obediently, you continued to please Jayce with your hand, while your mouth opened to receive Viktor and wet his tip with the combination of your saliva and his precum. A shiver ran through his body as he nodded and looked at you with barely open eyes.

"So good." He said as he rested his cheek on Jayce's shoulder, who was quick to rest his temple on Viktor's head.

"She's so good, isn't she? Always so—ah—eager to help us."

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the compliments, just hearing them had made you so wet that it even hurt not to feel even a little touch, but no. Your boys were feeling good, and that was all that mattered tonight.

Just when you thought about continuing until your brain turned to pudding, Viktor's slender hands pulled you away from his center. You automatically wanted to go back to your work but you noticed Jayce's hands on your waist, from behind, guiding you to lie a little on top of Viktor and looking at his face.

His moles, oh his moles. Those were definitely stars in the dark night, contrasting with his pale skin but since you loved to kiss him little by little until you physically remembered where they were, you could remember each one even if you were blind.

The wet tips of your lovers brushed against your two entrances almost at the same time and you only felt a shiver run down your spine as you nodded. Words were not necessary when two beautiful men wanted to give you pleasure, and boy did they.

The initial sting was never missing but then it turned into tickling which turned into pleasure. When one entered, the other left and the room had become its own sanctuary of pleasure, carnal sounds and the incessant rubbing of skin. The humidity and heat of Viktor's body holding yours, and Jayce's chest against his back could almost make you faint but the pleasure kept you awake and moaning incoherently while both of them kept kissing any part of your skin they could reach and why not? Biting a little on the skin that gave them so much delight.

One finished, then another and finally the last one. Leaving them tired, satisfied, belonging to the other. The stress of the day to day as scientists dissolved in the sheets and was forgotten when they saw their seed run down your body, then cleaned it with a handkerchief to avoid accidents in bed, as on other occasions. Hugged, reciting words of adoration and light kisses, sleep took over each one and they gave in to the temptation to dream.

Routine could perhaps consume Jayce and Viktor, but a little touch, kiss or word made them forget it. It made them feel, made them live.

#jayvik #jayvik x reader #arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane jayvik #jayvik x fem!reader #viktor arcane #viktor lol #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane fandom #arcane finale #fanfic #headcanon #reader insert #fem reader

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xiaominghao · 1 month ago

Text

Reward

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: Mingyu x reader.

Yuin's note: As a baker, making desserts for others is my love language and I'm always willing to write about it.

“I’m home,” a tired voice sounded, followed by the sound of the front door closing.

“Welcome home, Mingyu,” you greeted, peeking your face from the kitchen, a big smile spreading across your lips as he walked towards you. “How was your day?”

He huffed stretching his arms above his head, clearly tired. “I don’t want to go back in like three days. It was such a…” his steps suddenly stopped, his brow furrowing slightly in a mix of surprise and something very close to joy. “What is this?”

You were in front of him holding a small plate with cookies that looked very appealing, almost as much as the smell that embraced his whole body. “I found a new recipe and I want your opinion.”

A wide smile lit up his face, revealing his little fangs, his eyes narrowing as he took a cookie. “You know what my opinion will be, but since you insist…”

Your gaze remained fixed on him, expectant, and a smile brightened your face as you noticed his body relaxed, enjoying the moment as if it was a reward he’s been fighting for. And somehow it was; after a long and hard day at work, coming home with you was the only thing he could think of.

You moved the plate a little closer to his chest, pouting at him. “Here, they’re all for you.”

Mingyu happily accepted your gift and then moved closer, draping his free arm over your shoulders to pull you in, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Thanks for this, and for everything.”

You stood on your tiptoes to lean in and return the kiss, he leaned down a little so you could reach him. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Mingyu shook his head. “I’d like to eat first, I’m craving this.”

“Oh, if that’s so…” you looked away a bit nervous, swinging slightly on your feet. “… Do you want us to sit on the couch and just chit chat?”

You looked up, a hint of shyness and pleading in your eyes. Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk appeared on his face as you shrugged. “Sure, let’s go.”

You hurried ahead with quick, cheerful steps, and once you took a seat on the large couch, you patted your thighs as an invitation that he gladly accepted. Even though they have been together for a long time, Mingyu still felt touched by every little gesture you had for him, as if it were the first time.

“Seriously, y/n. You have no idea how happy you make me,” he said softly, resting his head on your lap and bringing a cookie to his mouth.

You laughed quietly, your hand gently stroking the roots of Mingyu’s hair. “You deserve it, and much more. Now, tell me, how was your day?”

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areislol · 1 month ago

Text

A New Year's with you

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. fluff

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. first of i'd really like to thank each and every one of you!! to my followers, thank you for supporting me and enjoying what i love to do. i wish you all a very happy new year!

►— wordcount. 2.3k

The night air was crisp, filled with the promise of something new. Outside, the world was celebrating, fireworks bursting across the sky in a riot of colors. Inside, though, you were focused on something much more important: spending your New Year’s Eve with the people who meant the most to you.

As the clock struck 11:55 PM, you sat comfortably surrounded by the familiar faces of your closest friends. There was Aether, who always seemed to be uplifted and happy, like right now. Ever curious about Earth’s traditions, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

He was carefully arranging the items for the night's festivities: a platter of snacks, a bottle of sparkling grape juice (your compromise since he didn’t trust “bubbly Earth potions”), and a small stack of board games you’d promised to teach him.

“You really do all of this just to welcome a new year?” he asked, golden eyes sparkling with intrigue.

You nodded, sinking into the couch with a soft smile. “It’s more about the memories we make while waiting for midnight. Traditions like these make it special.”

Aether tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “We have something similar in Teyvat, though it’s more about honouring the past year and setting intentions for the next. I like your way, though—it’s lighter, more joyful.”

The two of you started with the games. Aether’s competitive streak caught you off guard as he quickly learned the rules of UNO and began ruthlessly stacking Draw Fours against you. His laughter was infectious, and soon the room was filled with lighthearted banter and playful accusations of cheating.

And Diluc, who stood by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up and hands dusted with flour as he helped you prepare a tray of cookies. He looked entirely at ease, though his noble posture and crimson hair made him seem almost out of place in such a mundane setting.

“You’ve really outdone yourself with the decorations,” he remarked, glancing around. “The atmosphere here feels... grounding.”

You smiled, brushing some flour from his cheek with a light touch. “I wanted it to feel special. After all, it’s your first New Year’s on Earth.”

Diluc’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It’s quite different from what we do in Mondstadt. There, we celebrate with lively gatherings, songs, and toasts to the Anemo Archon. This... quiet celebration is a welcome change.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you set about preparing the evening’s activities. You’d decided to keep it simple: a light dinner, some nostalgic movies, and watching the midnight fireworks from the backyard. Diluc had also brought a bottle of dandelion wine he’d made himself, a taste of Mondstadt to share with you.

Zhongli stood nearby looking strangely relaxed, his hands loosely holding a glass of wine. Kazuha, always the poet at heart, hummed quietly to himself, his gaze occasionally flicking over to the window to catch the sparkling lights outside.

Then there was Childe, his eyes glinting with mischief as usual, though his playful grin softened as he glanced your way. And Kaeya, ever the charmer, leaned casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed the group.

“Am I late, or are you just fashionably early?”

You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the doorframe, a sly grin on his face. He was dressed casually, but even in a sweater and sweatpants, he carried himself with the same effortless charm that made your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect timing, actually,” you replied with a smile. “Welcome to Earth’s New Year’s Eve celebration.”

Kaeya stepped inside, taking in the decorations with an approving nod. “You’ve certainly gone all out. I feel honoured to be part of such an event.”

“Don’t get too excited,” you teased. “It’s mostly snacks, games, and fireworks on TV. But I did prepare something fun.”

His visible eye gleamed with interest. “Do tell.”

You handed him a silly party hat and matching noisemaker. “Tradition.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, twirling the noisemaker between his fingers. “You’re telling me people wear these... willingly?”

“Yes, and so will you,” you said, placing the hat on his head before he could protest. To your surprise, he didn’t remove it. Instead, he adjusted it with a flourish and gave you a playful bow to which you giggled at, finding it silly.

“Only for you, darling.”

Wriothesley, Lyney and Neuvillette, Venti, Kinich and Baizhu were all chatting amongst each other, an odd bunch, yes, but they all got along with each other. They all grouped around each other, happily talking about celebrating a new year…with you.

“Five minutes!” Kaeya called out, his voice light, teasing, but full of warmth. “Let’s make the last moments of the year memorable.”

“Right!” Childe grinned, raising his glass. “To make this year even better than the last!”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed at the ginger Fatui and his words. “Tsk, nothing is worth celebrating if the Fatui are still around..” He grumbled, his grip on the wine bottle tightening.

Noticing this you nudge him with your shoulder playfully, a smile tugging the corners of your lips as you spoke. “Don’t worry about him or the Fatui. Besides you’ve got us—me!” You said, watching as his gaze softened at you, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“You’re right.” His voice was soft and smooth, almost too soft, though the sweet moment between you two was interrupted as Albedo adjusted his glasses and glanced at you, his usual serene expression softening with the warmth of the evening. “Time flies when you’re surrounded by friends. It’s good to be here with all of you.”

Alhaitham sat comfortably on the couch, a book in hand—because of course, he brought a book. His teal-grey hair caught the light in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant, even in a simple turtleneck sweater.

“I still don’t understand the significance of this holiday,” he said without looking up, though the slight smirk on his lips suggested he was enjoying the conversation. “The Earth rotates around the sun every day. Why is this particular one celebrated?”

You laughed, sitting beside him. “It’s not about the science, Alhaitham. It’s about marking a moment to reflect on the past year and look forward to the next. It’s symbolic.”

He finally closed his book, setting it aside as he turned to face you fully. “Symbolism. A fascinating way to assign meaning to an arbitrary point in time.”

“Spoken like a true scholar,” you teased. “But you can’t deny that it’s nice to have an excuse to relax and celebrate.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied you. “I suppose it does offer an opportunity to engage in human connection. That, I can appreciate.”

The night unfolded with a quiet intimacy that felt uniquely fitting for Alhaitham. Instead of games or loud music, the two of you opted for meaningful conversation and simple joys. He indulged your Earth traditions by trying your carefully curated snacks, offering an unfiltered critique of each one.

“These are tolerable,” he said, gesturing to the plate of cookies. “But the balance of sweetness could be improved.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Noted, culinary expert.”

A chuckle escaped from Ayato, who leaned against the wall with a relaxed smirk. “How uncharacteristic of you, Alhaitham. But I agree, it’s nice to have a peaceful moment like this.”

Baizhu was seated nearby, carefully sipping on a cup of tea, his sharp eyes gleaming with a hidden playfulness. “A toast to health and prosperity, then,” he said with a smile. “May we all find peace and success in the year to come.”

Nearby, Cyno, though less stoic offered a smirk. “Let’s hope it’s more peaceful than last year,” he said dryly, casting a quick glance at Childe, who was standing by the snacks table, trying to sneak an extra serving of treats.

You, Diluc and Cyno all watched as Itto slapped his hand, scolding him for trying to sneak in a couple more snacks despite doing the same as well.

“You gotta stop stealing all the goodies! You can’t just hog ‘em all!” Itto whined, grabbing the handful of stolen goods from Childe who was practically fuming. “You are getting on my last nerves bud. Hand me back those snacks now! Besides, they said I could eat however much I wanted!”

“Stop lying! As if they would EVER give you permission to do something as heinous as that!” Itto screeched. You sighed, wondering when the bickering would ever stop.

Ga’ming joined the conversation, his voice light and playful. “I’m just happy to have made it through another year. Every year, we learn something new. Here’s to another year of discoveries!” he said, raising a glass.

Gorou, sitting beside him, nodded earnestly. “We’ve all fought many battles, but it’s the moments like these that remind us what we’re fighting for. To friends, to peace.” Heizou flashed a grin, holding up his drink. “The new year always brings a fresh set of mysteries, doesn’t it? Here’s hoping for more exciting cases to solve!” He winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

However, everybody knew there were no mysteries to solve. Not one single case since he first landed here, which was quite sad, now that you were thinking about it..

From across the room, Itto boomed with excitement (having totally forgotten about the whole Childe stealing fiasco). “A toast to the strongest—no, the most amazing people around! Let’s make this year even more fun than the last!” His exuberance was contagious, and everyone around him laughed, joining in the cheer.

Kaeya, leaning casually against the doorframe, smirked playfully at you. “Cheers to another year of mischief and fun. I have no doubt this one will be full of surprises.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes at Kaeya’s comment, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Every year is full of surprises. Some better than others,” he teased, earning a laugh from Albedo.

Neuvillette placed his much larger and softer hands on your shoulder, a gentle smile and look on his face as he leaned his head down. “May we all find the strength to continue our paths, no matter the obstacles that come our way. A peaceful year ahead.”

Sethos, who was quietly observing everybody, nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. Whatever the world holds, we face it together.”

Thoma, ever the cheerful and supportive presence, added with a bright smile, “And here’s to everyone having a safe, happy year ahead. I’ll make sure to keep things running smoothly for us!”

Tighnari nodded in agreement. “I’m confident we’ll only grow stronger together.” As the seconds ticked down, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of all their presence. Each of them was here, beside you, in this shared moment of joy.

Venti raised his glass, his usual carefree nature in full force. “To freedom! To wind! And to all the wonderful people we meet along the way!”

Wanderer, leaning slightly against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a quiet laugh. “Not sure about freedom, but I’m all for a year where things are… less chaotic.” His dry humour had the group chuckle.

Wriothesley raised a glass, his usual calm exterior belying the warmth in his voice. “May this year bring you all the peace and prosperity you deserve. We’ve earned it.”

Xiao, standing near the window, his gaze distant yet soft, murmured, “A new year is just another step forward. I will continue protecting those dear to me.” His words were brief but filled with devotion. Zhongli smiled at the group. “A new year is a reminder that time flows forward, yet we remain constant in our bonds. May we cherish every moment.”

Kinich stood quietly, his presence comforting as always. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and continued back to staring out the window, though his eyes seem to be wavering towards somebody in the reflection of the glass window.

Capitano and Pierro, with a more reserved expression, raised his glass in a quiet toast. “May the coming year be kind to us all.” Pantalone, with a cheerful grin, chimed in last. “To friends, to family, and to new adventures. May the year ahead be our best yet.”

The countdown reached zero, and the room erupted in cheers, laughter, and clinking glasses. The fireworks outside exploded in a burst of color, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stood surrounded by your friends—each one unique, each one cherished.

“Happy New Year!” you all called out in unison, the warmth of your bond filling the room.

“Happy New Year!” you repeated, your heart full, as the new year began. Cheers erupted around the room as everyone clinked glasses and exchanged smiles. The sound of fireworks outside mixed with the laughter inside, creating a perfect harmony that made your heart swell.

“I’m so grateful for all of you,” you said, feeling the weight of the moment. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

They all smiled, their expressions soft and filled with affection. Kaeya was the first to pull you into a warm embrace, followed by Childe who ruffled your hair playfully. Kazuha, ever the poet, simply offered a gentle nod, his gaze full of quiet affection. Zhongli’s smile was calm, yet there was a deep tenderness in the way he looked at you. And Aether and Lumine both offered their hands, pulling you into a hug that felt like home.

“No matter what the new year brings,” Aether said softly, “we’ll always be together.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved, the year ahead felt full of endless possibilities, each one more beautiful than the last.“Happy New Year, everyone,” you said, your heart full, surrounded by your closest companions.

“Let’s make it a year to remember.”

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hexvx @saltlovetale-blog @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amiaaaaaq @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealamp @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanisty @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnivindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcroww @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqqo @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-locoal-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhiwassup @youdontneedtoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @isaacdakknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @lazy-panther @silverstarred @blughosts @deepobservationninja @chericia @paper–angel @gtxthatonegirl @meigalaxy @blurryperrtymoonlight @creativecupcake @candlesworlds-blog @k0hdai @amyminhminh

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

additional notes: i may not be able to see your comment to be added to the taglist for the earlier chapters (1, 2, 3, etc) so please hop in my inbox and tell me as it’ll be easier for me! thanks for reading :)

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

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doromoni · 11 months ago

Text

Lunch Preferences | LN4

Ships: Lando Norris x Personal Chef! Reader , Platonic! Oscar Piastri x Personal Chef! Reader

Warnings : None

Genre: fluff

Summary : Oscar’s food always tasted better and Lando finds out why.

Part 2

Lando was never adventurous when it came to certain things , most importantly when it came to the food that he consumed — His best friend Max could vouch on that , heck the entire grid and the whole McLaren hospitality can say it.

When it came down to it , when Lando didn’t like the ingredient used in the meal served in the Motorhome cafeteria, a special meal is always prepared for the Golden Boy of Mclaren. Most find it funny but the kitchen staff found it extremely annoying; to them Lando was a diva.

Kitchen personnel and caterers are shuffled within motorhomes and during races in different countries and it became problematic for Mclaren due to the new personnel’s lack of knowledge of their driver’s preferences. Funnily enough, this has become an issue much so that a protocol has been made stating that when a new driver is signed they are given their own personal chef that tours around with them during the races.

Cut to Oscar Piastri joining the Papaya Family, and Y/n L/n had been added to the roster. The Australian driver and Y/n had met during Oscar’s F2 season and had quickly formed a bond, by bond meaning Y/N fuels Oscar’s obsession with sweets. The aussie became obsessed, much so that when the “personal chef” clause came up in his contract, his immediate answer was “ Y/N L/N”.

“Osc what the hell? What do you mean you got me a job at Mclaren? Are you high on sugar again?” You asked in disbelief as you stared at the Australian, eyebrow raised.

You and Oscar are currently in his kitchen in his apartment in the UK. You were trying to bake your f2 paddock famous cookies while Oscar tries to help , emphasis on tries.

“Oh come on Y/N! You’re perfect for this. You know my likes and dislikes . Plus you know how to trick me into eating my veggies” Oscar said exasperatingly.

“ Oscar as much as I love to feed you , you know that I cant travel with you, I have a job remember? Plus Im not a professional chef , you dummy! I just cook as a passion” You muttered softly trying to get your point across.

“Then quit! I know you hate your job y/n. This is your chance! I made sure that they’ll pay you handsomely ~ more than your current pay . I swear! PLUS you get to travel with me and you get to explore food all over the world” The boy did made a whole lot of sense…

“Fine , let me see the contract” Then an enormous grin plasters itself on his face.

***

* Brownies

“Holy Crap , Mate! These brownies are killer! Where did you get these?” Logan exclaimed as he continued to stuff his face with Oscar’s snacks prepared by Y/N of course.

“My chef made them for ME , Logan. Hands off “ Oscar swatted the American’s hand as he tried to get another piece.

“What are you two idiots up-to now? “ Alex spoke as he came near the duo, Lando right on his tail.

“Oscar brought these amazing brownies and He wont share! Come on mate, just one more” Logan once again tried to reach for the bag only to be denied once again.

“Ohhh, let me try some of that!” Alex laid out his hand , and Logan complaining in the background saying “unfair “ as Oscar gave Alex one.

“You weren’t kidding! these are good. Lando try one” Alex gestured towards Lando.

Lando looking a bit apprehensive, took the offered treat and took a bite. As the Brit chewed , he couldn’t stop eating till there was no more. Screw belgian chocolate, that brownie was his favorite food now.

“Oscar, give me another.” Lando requested to his now younger teammate.

“Nope~ these are mine” Oscar grinned teasingly as he stood up , away from the reach of his fellow drivers

“Oscarrrr , give em up you muppet!” Lando whined and pouted .

“No! Ask your chef to make you one. “ Oscar implored.

“But the ones they make aren’t as good as thoseee” Lando continued to whine

“I know, this is Y/N’s special recipe. “ Oscar replied mockingly, a playful grin on his face as we waved them goodbye.

“Damn, Y/N made those? No wonder they tasted amazing” Logan muttered catching the attention of Lando.

“Y/N? Who?” Lando asked now curious .

“Oh, Y/N is our friend. Well now Oscar’s personal chef too. We met when Oscar and I were racing in F2. She used to bring us her cooking after the race.”

“Damn, did she put cocaine on those brownies or something?” Alex said wanting another bite.

“Did you say that she’s Oscar’s chef? That would mean that she’s in Mclaren right now?” Lando asked yet again to the now bemused American.

“Yes?” And with that Lando Norris is on a mission. Find the lady who makes extremely delicious brownies.

“Y/N” Lando muttered your name under his breath as he traversed towards his own motorhome with a purpose.

Finally reaching his destination only to be bombarded by his Pr manager pulling him along towards his media duties

Lando’s brownie mission was a fail

“Hey, do you know who’s Y/N?”

* Wok fried noodles

“ Ok so , Oscar will be done in a few minutes then it will be your turn” Lando’s manager , Valerie, explained as He was getting ready for the interview set up by Mclaren for a special edition for a motorsport magazine of some sorts.

“You should take a bite of your lunch , Lan. I don’t think you’ll be getting time to do so later” valerie explained, as she nudged the now cold , barely touched container of food towards the British driver.

“But there fish in it ,Val” The brit frowned as he glanced on his supposed to be lunch. How many times did he have to say NO FISH.

“It’s not even touching th-“ valerie tried to explain but was cut of by Lando as he exclaimed

“But it’s near a fish!” To which Valerie could only sigh and nod.

Then a knock and an opening of a door happened along with Oscar popping his head in — who appears to be carrying chopsticks and a container of sorts.

“ Hey, mate! They said it’ll be your turn in 15 mins or so” Oscar said as he scoops his lunch into his mouth.

“What ya eating there bud?” Lando couldn’t help ask as the savory aroma filled his room and a rumble came to his stomach.

“Some low carb noodle dish Y/N made , not really sure what’s it called . Tasted great tho.” The Australian said .

“Lemme have a bite” Lando waved his hands towards Oscar . With a shrug , oscar did.

As He took a bite , Lando could only think of one thing.

“Where could I get myself a Y/N”

* Spring Rolls

Practice 1 had just finished and the drivers have an hour or 2 to rest and kill time . And for our youngest Aussie driver on the grid it is time to annoy his lovely friend Y/N.

“ Hey, Y/N… could you please make extra servings of what ever you’re making for my lunch?” Oscar asked sheepishly

“Osc, No! You have to follow a strict calorie count and your trainer will kill me!” You said as you stoped what you were doing .

“It’s not for me, Its for Lando! He always eats my food “ Oscar explains and you understood clearly. Nodding with a smile , you shooed Oscar away.

“Thanks , Angel! “ Oscar left but not before leaving a kiss on your head.

You then set out to make lunch for 2 drivers, and finishing by packing them separately . You never forgot to leave a message on Oscar’s meals as encouragements to your closest friend

Your eyes go towards the food intended for Lando. You were contemplating whether you should write something or not. Biting your lip you took another piece of post it and started writing.

Maybe this is your chance to get the driver’s attention and shoot your shot. You have been crushing on the British driver for who knows how long. Tutting yourself you shake your head from your thoughts and delusions.

In the post it wrote ,

Dear, Lando

A little birdie told me that you liked my cooking , ey? Oh! I heard that you liked spring rolls so I made you a few. No fish , I promise. Hope you enjoy! And good luck on the race! I’ll be cheering on the sidelines 🧡

P.S. thank Osc , he begged me to tag you along :P

— Y/N

***

Butterflies filled Lando’s stomach as he opened the lunch box you made for him. You cooking for him and writing a note felt so domestic , like a wife and husband.Lando became a giggly mess as he re-read your note again and again.

He remembered the time when he first saw you. You were with Oscar in the Mclaren motorhome , sitting on the lounge when your eyes met his and you gave Lando a smile — it was only passing but to Lando it was enough. To him you were so angelic .He imagined coming home to you and you would cook for him and all seemed fine in the world.

“ you know , you should just ask her out on a date” and suddenly Lando was startled out of his daydreaming

“Huh , what? Dreaming? Who was? “ Lando tried to act cool in front of Oscar who was now sniggering as he leaned on the doorframe.

“ I know that you like Y/N, Lando! Just ask the girl already “

“Who’s Y/N?” Oscar rolled his eyes at his teammate

“You’re both idiots .y’know? You both have goggly eyes for each other — it honestly hurts to see. Here’s her number . Please just go out. Or I swear I’ll lock the two of you in a room or something. “ Lando was flabbergasted by his teammate who was now exiting the room.

“Uhh… Thanks Osc!” The Brit broke out into a huge smile as he shouted towards the australian

“Yeah yeah , just don’t hurt her or I promise to crash into you in every race”

***

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rmview · 2 months ago

Text

they try to win you back, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys try to win you back after a fight/break up! ( can be read as part 2 of this )

contents — mentions of past fights, reconciliation and fluff.

bang ღ chan

bang chan wasn’t the type to let things slide, especially when it came to you. after the breakup — a fallout caused by his relentless work schedule and lack of communication — he knew he’d messed up. but when you finally agreed to give him another chance, he vowed not to let you go.

bangchan started small. one morning, you woke up to a playlist he had sent you titled “for my love,” filled with songs that reminded him of you. the accompanying message read: “just a little something to start your day. i’m still learning how to do better, but i’ll make it worth it. – chan.”

later that week, he surprised you with a handwritten letter. the envelope smelled faintly of his cologne, and inside, his neatly written words laid bare his heart. he wrote about how he’d never stopped loving you, how the breakup had forced him to reflect on his mistakes, and how he wanted to be the kind of partner you deserved.

“have you been sleeping better?” he asked one evening when he showed up at your door with a basket of your favorite snacks and a plush blanket. “i remember you saying the nights feel colder now. thought this might help.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, despite trying to keep your guard up. “thanks, chan,” you said, accepting the basket.

his smile was soft but tinged with nervousness. “i know actions speak louder than words,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i’m going to keep showing you how much you mean to me.”

one night, he invited you over to the studio where he spent countless hours. the space felt intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy setup. “i wrote something for you,” he said shyly, gesturing to the microphone.

as the music filled the room, his voice poured out lyrics that spoke of regret, hope, and an unwavering love. when the song ended, he turned to you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “that’s how i feel,” he said softly. “i hope i can keep showing you, every day, just how much you mean to me.”

felix ღ

felix had always been the sunshine in your life, but after the breakup, you noticed his light dimmed. when you finally agreed to give him another chance, felix made sure he poured his heart into showing how much you meant to him, determined not to make the same mistakes again.

the first sign of his efforts came in the form of baked goods. one evening, after a long day, you came home to a neatly wrapped box on your doorstep. inside were cookies shaped like little hearts, each one perfectly frosted. a note attached to the box read: “i know i hurt you, but i’m not giving up on us. let me make things right. – felix.”

the following weekend, he invited you over to his place. the moment you walked in, you were greeted by the warm aroma of vanilla and butter. felix stood in the kitchen, wearing an apron dusted with flour, a sheepish grin on his face. “i thought we could bake together,” he said, holding up a whisk.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “you’re really trying, huh?”

“i have to,” he admitted, his voice soft but earnest. “you’re everything to me, and i won’t lose you again.”

as the two of you mixed dough and laughed over his attempts to juggle eggs (which ended in a sticky mess), felix stole small glances at you, his heart swelling at every smile he managed to coax from you and how easily your guard managed to lower.

later that evening, as you sat on the couch sharing a plate of freshly baked cookies, he turned to you, his deep voice filled with sincerity. “i’m not perfect, but i promise to keep trying for you — for us. you’ve always believed in me, and now it’s my turn to prove that i’m worth it.”

the most touching gesture came one rainy afternoon. felix surprised you with a scrapbook he had been working on — a collection of photos, handwritten notes, and little mementos from your time together. on the last page, he had written: “our story isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. i want to keep writing it with you.”

tears welled in your eyes as he took your hand. “i know i hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “but i love you more than anything, and i’ll spend every day proving that to you.”

lee ღ know

lee know had never been one for grand gestures, but when it came to making things right with you, he found himself stepping outside his comfort zone. the breakup had been his fault — his blunt words and tendency to shut down during arguments had driven a wedge between you. when you agreed to give him another chance, he knew he had to approach things differently.

the first sign of his efforts came subtly. one morning, you found a neatly packed lunch waiting for you at work, complete with a note that read: “eat well. i know i didn’t always take care of you like i should have, but i want to do better. – minho.”

later that week, he surprised you by showing up at your favorite café. “thought you might like some company,” he said casually, sliding into the seat across from you. but the way his eyes lingered on you betrayed the nonchalance in his tone.

over time, his gestures grew more personal. one evening, he invited you over to his apartment. when you arrived, you found the place meticulously decorated with fairy lights and a small spread of your favorite dishes on the table.

“you cooked?” you asked, surprised by the spread as the warm scent made you smile.

“i wanted to do something for you,” he said simply, pulling out a chair for you. “i know i’m not the best at saying how i feel, but i hope this shows you.”

as the two of you ate, minho watched you closely, his usual sharp demeanor softened considerably. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said suddenly. “about how i didn’t handle things the way i should have. i’m not good with words, but i need you to know that i’m trying.”

the dinner together was amazing and true to his words, he brought you to the dance studio where he spent most of his time one day, a glint in his eyes. “i have something to show you,” he said, his tone almost shy.

he played a track and began to dance, every movement purposeful and filled with emotion. it was a side of him you hadn’t seen before; raw, vulnerable, and completely open. when the music stopped, he stood before you, slightly out of breath.

“this is how i express myself best,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “i don’t want to lose you again. i’ll keep trying to be better, for both of us.”

hyun ღ jin

hyunjin had always been passionate, wearing his heart on his sleeve. but that same intensity had been the cause of your breakup. so when you decided to give him another chance, hyunjin knew he couldn’t rely on words alone to win you back.

the first time he saw you again after the breakup, he showed up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. but these weren’t just ordinary flowers — they were intricately painted on a canvas he had spent hours creating. “i wanted to give you something that lasts,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “like how i hope we will.”

hyunjin’s gestures were deeply personal. one evening, he invited you to his art studio, where a single easel stood in the center of the room. “i’ve been working on something,” he said, motioning for you to sit.

you watched as he unveiled a portrait of you, painted in soft, dreamy hues that captured the way he saw you — radiant and full of warmth. “this is how i see you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “even when we were apart, you were always in my heart.”

you were touched to nearly the point of tears, as his sincerety was making it harder to keep your guard up. another night, hyunjin surprised you with a private dance performance. he led you into a dimly lit studio, where soft music played in the background. “this is for you,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours before the music swelled.

every movement of his dance told a story — of regret, love, and a desperate desire to make things right. as he finished, his chest heaved from exertion, but his gaze never wavered. “i’ve made mistakes,” he admitted, stepping closer to you. “but i’m learning. you’re the one i want to share my life with, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

hyunjin also made an effort to handle conflict differently. one evening, when a small disagreement arose, he surprised you by calmly sitting down and saying, “let’s talk about this. i don’t want us to go back to how things were before.”

his growth, combined with his heartfelt gestures, slowly chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. hyunjin knew it would take time, but he was willing to be patient. after all, loving you was worth every effort.

i.n ღ

i.n had always been mature for his age, but the breakup — caused by his occasional aloofness and failure to recognize how much you needed reassurance — had shaken him to his core. though when you agreed to give him another chance, he knew he couldn’t take it for granted.

the first sign of his determination came when he surprised you with something simple yet meaningful: a framed photo of the two of you from happier times. he handed it to you one evening, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “i wanted to remind you of what we’re working towards,” he said softly. “this is the version of us i want to get back to.”

from that moment on, i.n’s actions spoke louder than any apology he could offer. he started paying closer attention to the little things that made you happy. one afternoon, he showed up at your place with a playlist he had carefully curated. “these songs remind me of you,” he explained, plugging in his headphones to share the music with you. as you listened together, he held your hand, a quiet promise in the way his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin.

his gestures extended to your everyday life. knowing how stressful your days could be, i.n would occasionally leave you handwritten notes in your bag or on your desk, each one filled with words of encouragement and love. “you’re doing amazing, and i’m so lucky to have you in my life,” one note read.

but i.n’s biggest gesture came one weekend when he surprised you with a small picnic at a secluded park. the spread included all your favorite foods, and he had even learned how to make one dish from scratch. “it’s not perfect,” he admitted with a shy laugh as you tasted it, “but i figured you deserved the effort.”

as the evening wore on and the sun set, he turned to you, his eyes earnest. “i know i’ve hurt you,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “but i’m learning to be better, and i’ll never stop trying. you mean too much to me.”

his sincerity and consistent efforts slowly began to rebuild the trust between you, showing you that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right.

han ღ

han wasn’t one to do things halfway, whether it was his music, his humor, or his love for you. the breakup had left him heartbroken, but when you gave him a second chance, he threw himself into proving that he was worthy of your trust.

his first move was to apologize in a way that only han could: through music. late one evening, he sent you a voice note. the melody was soft and heartfelt, and the lyrics spoke of regret, love, and the hope of a new beginning. at the end of the recording, his voice came through, unpolished and raw. “i wrote this for you. it’s not perfect, but neither am i. i just… i want to make you smile again.”

from then on, han made a point to be present in your life in ways that mattered. he started showing up to your favorite café during your lunch breaks, bringing little treats he knew you loved. “thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he’d say with a cheeky grin, placing a pastry and your favorite drink in front of you.

one evening, he invited you to the studio where he worked. “i want to show you something,” he said, leading you inside. on the wall was a collection of sticky notes, each one with a memory, a thought, or something he loved about you. “this is my reminder,” he explained, “of why i can’t mess this up again.”

despite his playful nature, han wasn’t afraid to get serious when it came to making amends. during a quiet moment one night, he looked at you, his usual mischievous expression replaced with a rare vulnerability. “i know i joke around a lot,” he said, his voice soft, “but you’re the most important person in my life. i’ll spend every day proving that i’m worth this second chance.”

han also worked hard to communicate better, often catching himself when he started to get defensive or overwhelmed. “wait,” he’d say during a disagreement, taking a deep breath. “let’s figure this out. i don’t want us to fall apart again.”

with every sweet gesture and heartfelt conversation, han slowly reminded you of why you had fallen for him in the first place, proving that even the most impulsive hearts could learn to love with patience and care.

seung ღ min

seungmin wasn’t the type to let emotions cloud his logic, but the breakup had been a wake-up call. when you decided to give him another chance, seungmin didn’t take it lightly. he knew he couldn’t rely on his usual reserved nature; he had to show you how much you meant to him.

the first sign of his effort came subtly. he started paying attention to the smallest details about you, things you thought he might not have noticed. one morning, you found your favorite drink waiting for you on your desk, a neat note attached: “thought you could use a boost. have a good day. – seungmin.” it was practical, understated, and so very him.

a few days later, he surprised you with something more personal. “i know i’m not great at saying how i feel,” he said one evening, handing you a leather-bound journal. inside were pages filled with his handwriting — entries where he reflected on your time together, what he had learned, and the moments he cherished most. “this is me trying to do better,” he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes vulnerable. “you deserve to know how much i care.”

seungmin also worked on being more emotionally available. during quiet evenings together, he would ask how you were feeling, genuinely listening and responding with thoughtful insight. “i want to understand you better,” he’d say, his tone sincere. “i don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

his biggest gesture came one chilly evening when he invited you to a quiet spot by the river, where a small portable speaker played a playlist he’d curated just for you.

as the two of you sat wrapped in a blanket he’d brought, seungmin turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically tender. “i know i’ve been distant before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i’m here now, and i’ll keep being here — for as long as you’ll let me.”

chang ღ bin

changbin had always been passionate — sometimes to a fault. the breakup, caused by his tendency to act out of frustration and say things he didn’t mean, had left him devastated. when you gave him another chance, he threw himself into showing you how much you meant to him, channeling his fiery energy into thoughtful gestures.

the first thing he did was apologize, not just with words but with actions. one day, you came home to find a handwritten letter on your table, accompanied by a small box of your favorite snacks. the letter read: “i know i’ve hurt you, and i’ll never stop trying to make it up to you. thank you for giving me another chance. – binnie.”

changbin also started showing up for you in ways he hadn’t before. if you mentioned being stressed at work, he’d surprise you with a quick visit, bringing something small to cheer you up. “i figured you might need a break,” he’d say, his boyish grin disarming any tension.

one evening, he invited you to his studio. “i’ve been working on something,” he said, gesturing toward the equipment. as the music played, you realized he had written a song for you — its lyrics raw and honest, capturing both his regret and his deep love for you. “this is how i feel,” he said when the track ended, his voice soft yet firm. “i want to be better, for you and for us.”

despite his big gestures, changbin also made an effort to be more patient and open. during one of your conversations, when emotions ran high, he surprised you by taking a deep breath and saying, “i don’t want to argue. let’s talk about this. i want to understand how you feel.”

his most heartfelt effort came during a casual evening together. as you walked through a park, he suddenly stopped, pulling you close. “i know i’ve been intense at times,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “but that’s because i love you so much. i’ll keep working on myself because i don’t ever want to lose you again.”

with every gesture, big or small, changbin showed you that his love for you was as unwavering as his determination to make things right.

notes: i’ve never really been in a relationship so i mentioned a lot of things i’d personally want a guy to do for me (T^T) i hope yall enjoyed either way!

1K notes · View notes

gghostwriter · 7 months ago

Note

Something where the reader is like sunshine, but gets cornered by an unsub and takes them down nosweat, the reader used to play ice hockey so they brawl like hell?

And at a dinner Rossi hosts, the reader offers to help cook but Morgan keeps poking the bear, teasing reader about their crush in spencer so reader asks if she can take this outside and Rossi is like "be my guest, knock him down a peg" and reader almost immediately pins Morgan and gets him to tap out

"Motherfucker I played ice hockey, I'll always win" Penelope is just gushing over reader and reader gives a wink to Spence before heading back to the kitchen to help plate up dinner

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends who Flirt (?); A bit heavier than my usual fluff but still fluff, I guess Warning: CM violence, vague descriptions of fight scenes A/N: Anon, going to be honest, I had a hard time writing this. I don’t have much knowledge on ice hockey or any sport in general so I tried my best to google moves from hockey and defense that I can incorporate here. Also I know you mentioned Reader to be a sunshine type but I kinda tweaked it so the Reader can be sweet and snarky both at the same time. No further editing was done, hope that’s alright and I hope you still enjoy this! Main masterlist

Ice Princess. // Spencer Reid

You’d like to think you were hired to join the highly sought after, golden child of the FBI—The BAU—due to your well rounded resume and skill set. But a year into being part of the team, you were starting to get the feeling you were hand selected to match Dr. Spencer Reid’s intellect and observation skills. In most cases, the two of you were always teamed up, working on geographical profiles, visiting the autopsy labs, and setting base in the police stations. All were an integral part of the job, you understood plus you’ve built an incredible rapport (crush) on the 187 IQ genius, but sometimes you miss the adrenaline and physical leg work that goes through catching an unsub. How is it that Morgan gets to kick down as many doors as he wants and you can’t?

“Princess, is that what i think it is?” Morgan asked, spotting you enter the bullpen with a large pink Tupperware on hand. “It is isn’t it?”

“Uh huh, but they’re not all for you!” You reached inside to grab two pre-packaged home made cookies and tossed them in his direction.

He looked at the two pieces he had on hand and back to the Tupperware. “That looks like it holds more than twenty pieces. So how is it I only get two?”

You giggled. “Congratulations SSA Derek Morgan, you know how to estimate.”

“Ha ha very funny, Ice Princess,” he stood to take a peek over your shoulder. “But I was right, what gives Y/N?”

A cup of steaming coffee was placed on your desk, courtesy of Spencer. “Hey Y/N. How was your weekend?”

You blushed. “It was great! I spent my time at the ice skating rink and baking. Look, cookies!”

“I see how it is,” Morgan teased, watching the two youngest members blush and flirt with each other. “Does pretty boy over here get more than two pieces?”

“Yes, he does. He gets four to be exact since he’s really nice—”

Morgan averted his eyes and fake coughed ‘crush’ causing you to blush even more than you thought possible.

“—and Hotch gets four, too.”

“Wait wait,” he held up his hands. “Reid, I get. But Hotch?”

You shrugged. “He is our boss, after all.”

“I can smell the lie from a mile away, Princess. What is it really?” He paused, making eye contact with Spencer before turning back to you.

“Bribery,” they both stated.

You stomped your boot clad foot on the ground, in defense. “No it’s not!”

He laughed. “Face it, Y/N. The big man will never put you in the line of fire, not if he could help it. Don’t you think so, Reid?”

“He does have a point. The percentage of you being partnered up with Morgan in the past cases was at a measly 3% and you were only partnered up with him because Hotch was also there to cover your back—” the glare you were giving him was enough for him to backtrack. “—Not that you can’t take care of yourself—that’s not what I’m saying, you’re a great agent, you have the skills—” each word intensifying your gaze. “I’ll stop now.” He squeaked out.

Morgan patted his back. “What he meant to say was, Hotch has a soft spot for you and your lean, glitter wearing build. Which reminds me, when will we ever see videos of you twirling and jumping on ice, Princess?”

You laughed, his assumption of you being an ice skating princess never failed to make you chuckle. If only he knew the truth. “Never, Morgan. Never.”

———

In the grand scheme of things, maybe the universe had heard your grumbles and finally decided to throw you a bone. It happened during the latest case in Florida, a narcissistic male unsub was loose on the streets attacking and kidnapping women that all shared the same physical traits as you. This information was pointed out when the team had found the third victim’s body—mangled and throat deeply slashed that her head was almost severed. They all shared similarities with you—slight build and delicate features. So it came as a no surprise when the unsub set his eyes on you as the next victim.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ears, having been caught in a bear hug attack. “I bet I could snap you in half, like a toothpick. I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

Bending forward, you twisted your upper body to elbow his face, and breaking free. “Try me.”

You cursed your luck, having left behind your holster in the hotel room. You were just stepping out to grab a case file left behind in the SUV when the unsub cornered you and made his move.

The smirk on your face seemed to enrage him, enough for him to come charging at you like a bull. You kept your mind cool, feinting to the left—a body fake move from hockey before throwing a heel palm strike straight to his nose, causing it to break and bleed. The unsub howls in pain and while he was pre-occupied, you quickly twist his arm throwing him to the ground.

By the time the remaining members of the team came to your rescue, you were sitting on the unconscious unsub with your hair mused and a saccharine smile on your face. Morgan says nothing, eyebrows raised, as he all but drags the unsub to the nearest police car.

It was during one of the dinner parties hosted by Rossi where the dark skinned, muscular agent goaded you into showing him your moves.

“C’mon Princess, you can flirt with Lover Boy here later,” He slyly said, noting how close you were standing to Reid who was busy steering the pasta sauce. “I got to know how you took down that unsub.”

You laughed. “Spence, do you hear someone whining? Sounds like a yapping Chihuahua.”

Spence laughed having spied the indignation on Morgan’s face. “You’re right, Y/N. I didn’t know Rossi got a new family member.”

“Oh hell, I’m no Chihuahua. Do you see these muscles—” He flexed his arms. “I’m more German Shepherd than anything. All the flirting with genius over here has clouded your eyesight, better get that checked out.”

You scoffed before turning to Rossi for permission who chuckled at the irritation on your usual angelic face. “Be my guest Bambina, knock him down a peg for me but please, do it outside, I’d rather not get blood on my authentic Persian rug.”

Morgan whooped with glee as he all but ran out to the backyard with you right behind him. He rolled his neck and waved you close. “Hit me with your best shot, Ice Skating Princess.”

You smiled, not wanting to correct his favorite nickname of you. Before he could utter another word, you ran straight to him, exerting force on your legs and bracing your arms for impact. The tackle making him lose footing which was what you were aiming for then you proceeded to hook your leg behind his, causing him to tumble down and before he even hit the grass, you twisted making him fall chest first and his hands pinned behind him.

“What the—” Morgan struggled to get up. “Alright, alright. You win.”

You laughed, helping him stand, as the team members all cheered behind you.

“Did they teach you that in skating school or something?”

“Morgan, I played ice hockey, not ice skating and—” you smirked as his mouth dropped open. “—I always win, motherfucker.”

“Bambina, language.” Rossi, the mother hen of the group, chided.

You laughed, sending Spencer a wink before skipping to where he was, awestruck and blushing beet red from Penelope’s teasing.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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misswynters · 2 months ago

Text

Cookie Chaos

featuring. husband! sylus and wife! reader

There was a scent of cinnamon and nutmeg that filled the kitchen, mingling with the holiday music playing softly in the background. The twins, with their small aprons adorned with tiny snowflakes, stood on stools next to the counter, their eager hands reaching for flour and sugar. Their giggles echoed through the room, a sweet melody of joy as they worked under your supervision to bake cookies for the holiday party. You leaned against the kitchen island, watching the scene unfold, the corners of your mouth twitching as you fought to contain your laughter.

Sylus stood at the stove, his expression a mixture of exasperation and mild amusement as he stirred a pot of hot chocolate. “Sweetie,” he muttered, glancing at you with a pointed look, “are you sure this was a good idea?” His voice was low and gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it that softened the scolding.

Before you could answer, one of the twins who were covered in a dusting of flour, grabbed the measuring cup with both hands and with their excitement, spilled half of it on the counter. Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his teeth. “Careful,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “We’re supposed to be making cookies, not a disaster zone.”

“They’re doing fine,” you said, biting back a laugh as the other twin grabbed a fistful of sprinkles and tossed it into the air like confetti. A rainbow of tiny sugar dots rained down, landing on the counter and the floor. With the chaotic mess of the baking, Sylus carefully cleaned stovetop. Patience running thin.

However before Sylus could protest, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the hallway. Kieran and Luke entered, their grins as mischievous as ever. “What’s this?” Kieran asked, leaning against the doorframe. “A baking party without us? That’s just rude.”

Luke’s sharp eyes scanned the scene, taking in the twins’ messy but enthusiastic efforts. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” he said dryly, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

Sylus groaned, setting the spoon down with a clatter. “No. Absolutely not. You two are not—”

“Too late!” Kieran interrupted, rolling up his sleeves as he strode toward the counter. “We’re already here, might as well help.”

“‘Help,’” Sylus repeated, his tone heavy with skepticism as he crossed his arms. “The last time you two ‘helped,’ the kitchen smelled like burnt sugar for a week.”

Luke shrugged, already picking up a rolling pin. “That’s what happens when you experiment with caramel,” he said matter-of-factly, ignoring Sylus’s glare.

The twins, thrilled by the new additions to their team, clapped their hands and cheered. “Uncle Kieran! Uncle Luke! Look, we’re making cookies!”

Kieran leaned down, his face level with theirs, and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “How about we make the biggest cookie ever? Like, one the size of a plate.”

Sylus’s brows knit together as he straightened his posture, a looming figure of disapproval. “Absolutely not. Stick to the recipe.”

But Kieran was already pouring extra chocolate chips into the batter, much to the twins’ delight. Luke, ever the quieter instigator, grabbed another mixing bowl and began preparing a second batch, muttering something about “adding some flair.”

You couldn’t help it anymore; a laugh escaped you, as you leaned back against the counter. Sylus shot you a look, one brow arched in mock indignation. “Sweetie, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” you said, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of your eye. “But you’ve got to admit, this is pretty entertaining.”

“Entertaining isn’t the word I’d use,” he muttered, his gaze shifting back to Kieran, who was now attempting to juggle eggs to impress the twins. One egg slipped from his grasp, landing with a splat on the floor.

Sylus inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as he grabbed a towel to clean up the mess. “Kieran,” he said, his voice calm but edged with warning, “if you don’t stop acting like a circus act, you’re banned from the kitchen. Permanently.”

Kieran grinned, unrepentant. “Relax, Sylus. It’s the holidays. Live a little.”

Luke, meanwhile, had somehow managed to get powdered sugar on his shirt, his usually impeccable demeanor slightly disheveled. “This is why I don’t cook,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint smile on his lips as one of the twins handed him a cookie cutter shaped like a star.

The kitchen became a flurry of activity, with the twins shouting out instructions, Kieran making exaggerated declarations about being the “best baker in the galaxy,” and Luke quietly fixing whatever chaos his brother caused. You watched it all with a full heart, your gaze drifting to Sylus, who was doing his best to keep everything from spiraling out of control.

Despite his grumbles and sighs, there was a softness to his movements as he leaned over to guide one of the twins’ hands while they rolled out dough. His large fingers enveloped their tiny ones, and his voice dropped to a gentle murmur as he explained how to press the cutter firmly into the dough.

“Like this,” he said, demonstrating with patience that belied his usual gruffness. The twin beamed up at him, their face glowing with pride as they successfully cut out a perfect snowman shape.

You caught his eye from across the room and smiled. “You’re a natural, you know.”

Sylus scoffed, though a faint blush crept up his neck. “Don’t start, sweetie.”

By the time the cookies were in the oven, the kitchen looked like a war zone. Flour dusted every surface, sprinkles crunched underfoot, and smudges of chocolate adorned everyone’s cheeks. Kieran had somehow managed to get frosting in his hair, and Luke was carefully peeling a sticky candy cane off his sleeve.

Sylus surveyed the chaos with a resigned sigh, his hands on his hips. “This is what happens when I let you two in here,” he said, his tone more tired than angry.

Kieran clapped him on the back. “Lighten up, Sylus. The kids had fun, didn’t they?”

The twins, now perched on stools, nodded vigorously. “It was the best day ever!” one of them declared, their face glowing with happiness.

Sylus’s expression softened as he looked at them, his annoyance melting away like snow under the sun. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “It was.”

As the cookies baked, the family gathered in the living room to wait. The twins, still buzzing with energy, sat on the rug and began sorting through cookie cutters, debating which ones were their favorites. Kieran sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, while Luke leaned against the armchair, his expression one of calm amusement.

You settled into the loveseat next to Sylus, leaning into his side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’re too soft on them,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

“That’s because I know when to pick my battles,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that made your heart flutter. “I’ll never understand how you put up with all this chaos.”

“Because it’s our chaos,” you said, resting your head against his chest. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

When the timer dinged, signaling that the cookies were ready, the twins scrambled to the kitchen, dragging Kieran and Luke with them. Sylus followed at a slower pace, his hand resting on your lower back as you walked together.

The cookies, which were golden and abit deformed, was proof of the day’s chaotic and messy effort. As everyone gathered around to taste them, the twins’ laughter rang out, filling the room with warmth. Sylus took a bite and nodded approvingly. “Not bad,” he admitted, earning cheers from the twins.

As the evening wore on and the mess was slowly cleaned, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. And as Sylus wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close for a brief but tender kiss, you knew he felt the same. The cookies will definitely not be taken to the holiday party, maybe you would stop by the store to buy some.

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