#cardboard cupcakes

[sunnylighter]

Well spindle lost his cupcake toy so little boy gets a surprise today (ignore the mess he got into the hay and scattered it)

Now I'll get several hours of cardboard crunching ASMR from a very delighted boy

[artdunk]

🧼

[herbertwest]

Forgot tupperware existed for a good few hours there

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Babe I need a pick me up pleeasassseee

can I please request Simon and wife ! Reader want to go out for a long weekend for their anniversary, Simon (unfortunately ) trusts and puts Gaz and soap in charge of Tommy while they are gone

Chaos ensues

Boys on Their Worst Behavior

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, chaos, dad!Simon, uncle!Soap and uncle!Gaz disaster babysitting, minor swearing, a child on a sugar high, a destroyed couch, accidental hair dye, offscreen spicy anniversary celebration, hangovers, absolute mayhem

Author's Note: Warning, do not leave your child with their two chaotic uncles! Otherwise you get chaos, now with 200% more poor decision-making and loving regret. Enjoy!!

Summary: You and Simon want one long weekend for your anniversary. Just one. He’s hesitant to leave Tommy behind—but you convince him to trust Soap and Gaz, who are way too eager to babysit. Unfortunately, you both severely overestimate their parenting skills.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It all started on a Thursday afternoon.

The living room was warm, Tommy was building a Lego fortress in front of the TV, and you were curled up in Simon’s lap with your head on his shoulder, scrolling through hotel listings on your phone.

"Look at this one." You angled the screen toward him—a cozy little cabin by a lake, complete with a private hot tub and no internet service. "Three nights. Quiet. Remote. Romantic."

Simon made a thoughtful noise but didn’t say yes.

You tapped your finger against his chest. "Come on. We never get time like this."

"We’ve got time now," he murmured, nosing behind your ear and making you giggle. "Tommy’s busy, the house is quiet—"

"Yeah, for twenty minutes. Then someone’s throwing a tantrum because we won’t let him wear his Spider-Man costume in the bath again."

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing circles against your back. "Don’t want to leave him with strangers."

"I wasn’t thinking strangers," you said, lips curling into a grin. "I was thinking… Soap and Gaz."

He pulled back and looked at you like you’d just suggested setting the house on fire for fun.

"No."

"Simon—"

"Absolutely not."

"They love him," you said. "Tommy loves them."

"They once let him eat ten mini cupcakes and then put him in a cardboard box to race down the stairs."

"That was kind of my fault."

"He called it the ‘S.S. Yeet Machine.’"

You grinned. "Tommy’s creative."

Simon muttered something under his breath, but you weren’t giving up. You climbed fully into his lap, facing him with your hands on his shoulders and your best sweet-eyes stare. "It’s one weekend. Our anniversary. Remember? The one where we swore we’d actually get away this year?"

His brows knit together. "What if something happens?"

"We’ll leave emergency numbers. A whole list. I’ll prep all the food. And I’ll bribe Soap with those lemon bars he likes."

He stared at you for a long beat. Then at Tommy, who was now making explosion noises and knocking over Lego towers.

"…you’re really gonna bribe them with lemon bars?"

You kissed his cheek. "Already made them this morning."

—

The Drop-Off

When Friday morning rolled around, you and Simon packed the car with overnight bags and a cooler full of carefully prepped meals. Simon triple-checked the emergency folder. You left sticky notes on the fridge, the bathroom mirror, and even the dog.

Gaz and Soap were waiting on the porch when you opened the door—matching grins, sunglasses, and a terrifying amount of confidence.

"Operation ‘Cool Uncles’ is a go!" Soap declared.

Tommy ran past you in a blur, launching himself into Soap’s arms. "UNCLE JOHNNY!"

Soap spun him around. "What’s up, gremlin?!"

Gaz took Tommy’s bag and gave you a hug. "Don’t worry, love. He’s in excellent hands."

Simon squinted. "Define ‘excellent.’"

"Alive, fed, entertained," Gaz said, ticking off fingers. "In that order."

Simon gave you a look that screamed this is a terrible idea.

You smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. "Let’s go, soldier. We have a lake waiting."

As you drove off, you glanced in the mirror and caught a glimpse of Tommy jumping on the couch with a Nerf gun, Soap cheering him on, and Gaz trying to remove a juice box from the DVD player.

Simon groaned and muttered, "We’re never gonna see the house in one piece again."

—

Day One: Descent Into Chaos

By 9:13am, you were sitting on the porch of your lakeside cabin, coffee in hand, soaking in the quiet. Simon was beside you, surprisingly relaxed—until his phone buzzed.

Sparklez Man✨🤩: He ate three toaster waffles and a handful of marshmallows. He’s vibrating. Help.

Simon stared. "What the hell do they mean vibrating?"

Ten minutes later, a video came through: Tommy sprinting in circles around the living room in his dinosaur pajamas, blurting out something about a secret mission and how his new name was "Agent Blue Lightning."

Soap was laughing in the background. "He’s got so much energy! Think we broke a record!"

Sparklez Man✨🤩: "He’s speaking in tongues."

Simon gave you a look that screamed, ‘We’re going home.’

You tugged him back down. "Nope. You’re going to drink your coffee and pretend we don’t have a son for 72 hours."

—

Later That Day

Gaz attempted bath time. You knew this because at 7:12pm, Simon’s phone buzzed again.

Sparklez Man✨🤩: We tried to do bath time. He escaped. He’s hiding under the bed and hissing like a cat.

Bubble Head🧼🫧: He bit me.

Sparklez Man✨🤩: He’s literally holding us hostage with a plunger.

Simon set his phone down, deadpan. "I changed my mind. He is feral."

You, very happy that you had the chance to say those infamous words to Simon. You didn’t hesitate when, "Told you so," slipped from your lips.

At 8:00pm, a final photo arrived: Tommy passed out on the couch, a fake mustache drawn across his face, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito.

Bubble Head🧼🫧: He fought valiantly. But we won.

Simon shook his head and whispered, "He’s biding his time."

—

Day Two: Mistakes Were Made

9:00am – You were lazily tangled with Simon in bed, sharing breakfast when another ping hit.

Sparklez Man✨🤩: He asked to dye his hair like Uncle Johnny. I thought he meant temporary spray. Soap gave him semi-permanent blue. It’s... very blue.

Simon sat up like he’d been shot. "They what?"

You choked on your orange juice. "Please tell me it’s not—"

Another message came in. A video.

Tommy stood on the table, shirtless, now sporting neon blue hair and wielding a plunger like a sword.

"I AM UNCLE SOAP JUNIOR!"

Simon immediately sent a message,

Skull Head💀💍: We’re coming home.

Best Mama✨💍: Just make sure Tommy is alive please when we get home!!

You, laughing so hard you cried: "We are not. This is the best anniversary ever."

—

Day Three: Silence Is Never Good

By midmorning, you noticed something strange.

No texts. No chaos. No updates.

Simon frowned. "Either they’ve finally figured it out or they’re unconscious."

You were still debating when your phone buzzed.

Bubble Head🧼🫧: We’re alive. Barely. Your child put gummy bears in the coffee machine. We now serve ‘Espresso à la Diabetes.’

A follow-up message from Gaz had you concerned.

Sparklez Man✨🤩: Couch is broken. Don’t ask. Just know Tommy learned how to suplex.

And finally: a photo of Tommy knocked out in a blanket fort, Gaz face-down beside him, and Soap sitting on the floor, eyes vacant, ice pack on his temple.

Bubble Head🧼🫧: He won.

—

Coming Home

You pulled up to the house Sunday afternoon. Everything was... quiet.

Too quiet.

The door creaked open. The living room looked like a war zone. The couch listing to one side. Juice box puddles on the floor. A slice of cheese on the ceiling.

Tommy ran straight into Simon’s legs, shouting, "DADDY! I HAVE A NEW NAME! I’M THE WARRIOR KING!"

Simon blinked.

Soap walked in holding a mug that read #1 Uncle, looking like he hadn’t slept in years.

"Welcome home. He’s yours now."

Gaz dragged himself in next. "We’re not having kids. Ever."

Simon turned to you. "Next time, we’re bringing him."

You laughed, grabbing his hand. "Next time, we leave him with my sister."

—

That night, in bed, Simon lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

You curled into him, completely blissed out. "Best anniversary ever."

He grunted. "They dyed his hair."

"He looks cute."

"They broke our couch."

"He learned how to suplex."

He paused. "…That one’s on you."

You smiled against his chest. "Still. Worth it."

He looked down at you. And despite it all—despite the hair dye, the Nerf guns, and the chaos—he nodded.

"Yeah. Worth it."

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[woncheolisms]

it was you all along. (bokuto koutaro x reader)

summary: you confess to him, and he’s confused because he thinks you’re already dating. for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions.

word count: 1285

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead @priv-rose @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass s @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @sp1ng @kur0obaby @bleach-your-panties @pinkiipeachiikeen @whippedbel

event masterlist

Careful hands tried to handle the cupcake as delicately as possible. You held your breath, lowering it into the box. When its base hit the cardboard, you finally sighed out in relief. You pulled back to admire your creation, feeling a smile creep up on your face at the sight of the four cupcakes, all decorated to the nines.

No doubt in your head that Bokuto would love this. After all, you knew his every like and dislike very well. You had known him forever.

Bokuto Kotarou had taken you under his ‘wing’ when you were in elementary school. Tiny-you had no confidence and zero capability to make friends, while Bokuto was your exact opposite. He had taken a liking to you and had bravely proclaimed that he would ‘protect’ you, puffing out his tiny chest and grinning wide. Over the years, Bokuto had not let you down even once.

It was no wonder that you slowly fell in love with him. How could you not? You spent every day joined at the hip. The only time you were apart was when he was on the court, and even then you were on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, managing the team while admiring how talented your friend was. So really, how could you not fall in love?

In your defense, Bokuto doted on you like crazy. He knew very little physical boundaries when it came to you, hugging and squeezing the life out of you, laying sloppy kisses on your cheeks, sharing food and stories and…. basically each other’s entire lives.

But today. Today was the day. Today you would tell him that you no longer wanted to be friends. That you wanted more. Your heartbeat sped up at the thought of how he might react. You weren’t an arrogant person by any means but you couldn’t imagine him reacting negatively. There’s no way Bokuto could be as affectionate as he was if he didn’t feel something for you. Hell, how many times had he told you he loved you? Every day. You had lost count.

You were careful with the box as you walked to school. Your very limbs were vibrating, and you were breathing deeply in and out to make sure you remained calm. You were optimistic in taking this step. In fact, all your mutual friends, including the team, had only encouraged you. They were all dead sure he would accept your confession and return your feelings just as enthusiastically. You were more excited than you were nervous. You couldn’t wait to see him.

You found Bokuto with his head buried in his locker, and you had to hold back a snort. He was muttering something under his breath, and you were sure he had lost something else now. His locker was a mess, and you had repeatedly scolded him to clean it up or else he would lose things. Once again, you were right.

You tapped his shoulder, biting back a laugh when he jolted and banged his head against the roof. Curses flew from his mouth before he ducked and pulled his head out, turning to look at you with a glare. You watched fondly when his scowl was replaced by the widest, brightest smile you had ever seen. Bokuto’s smile could give the Sun a run for its money.

He exclaimed your name loudly, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bear hug. You immediately held a hand out to push his chest back.

“Hold it!” You lifted up the box. “I’m holding something delicate.”

Bokuto’s interest was immediately piqued, and you giggled at his childish curiosity, grabbing his wrist and tugging him with you. He hastily slammed his locker shut and let you drag him down the crowded halls and outside, finding an empty bench overlooking the school track.

“What’s going on?” He finally asked, wide golden eyes peering into your own. You sat down and patted the seat beside you for Bokuto to do the same. He obliged, waiting for you to speak. Instead, you handed him the box.

Bokuto opened it up and gasped at the selection of four intricately decorated cupcakes, admiring each one separately. You felt your heart swell at his reactions.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “This one looks like a volleyball. And this one has my jersey number!”

Bokuto looked back up at you with stars in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. This is so awesome!”

You grinned wide, fiddling with your hands a bit. “I made them for a special occasion.”

Bokuto perked up again. “What special occasion?”

You took a deep breath. Finally, the time was here. “I love you, Kou.”

Bokuto blinked before a wide smile overtook his face. “I love ya too, babe.”

You stared at him for a bit. “No. I mean, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Now, a small, confused frown formed between the boy’s eyebrows. “I heard you. I love you, too. What’s going on? You’re bein’ weird.”

You gaped at Bokuto, unable to even fathom what he was getting from this. Were you not being clear enough? Was he not understanding what you meant?

“Kotarou, I don’t want to be just friends. This isn’t a ‘friends’ kind of love. I wanna date you. I wanna be your girlfriend.”

Now Bokuto looked flabbergasted, slowly closing the box and placing it to the side. “What are you talking about? You are my girlfriend!”

Silence. “What?”

Bokuto nodded, though he still looked at you like you had grown two heads. “Y-yeah?”

“Kou-” You held up a hand as if calling a timeout, trying, but failing, to understand what he meant. You had anticipated requited feelings. Some part of you had even considered the possibility of rejection. But this? How was this even possible?

Bokuto looked like he was processing things too. He quirked his head to the side, staring quizzically at you. One of his hands ran through his hair, almost in thought. You felt a horrific laugh bubble up inside you at how ridiculous the situation was. This…. this was so on brand for Bokuto. Your confession going awry because this idiot thought you were already dating.

“But what about all the time we’re together? I always hug you and kiss you. We have sleepovers all the time. I sleep in your damn bed!”

“Well yes, but-” You shifted. “We did that as friends!”

Bokuto gave you a look. “You think I act that way with my other friends?”

“I thought I was special.” You mumbled, suddenly rethinking almost every interaction you had with Bokuto.

“You are.” His voice softened. “Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You felt your face burn hot. “But you never-”

He waited for you to continue. You fidgeted.

“We never kissed.”

Now, a shiteating grin was slowly spreading across Bokuto’s face. He wiggled his crazy eyebrows at you. “You wanna?”

You smacked his bicep hard, making him yelp and rub the sore spot with a little pout. Inside your chest, your heart was doing endless flip flops. You still couldn’t believe that all this time, Bokuto had assumed you were dating and not just friends. The very thought of it was both completely expected and also insanely shocking at the same time.

Bokuto was watching you closely, having calmed down a bit. He gave you a little smile.

“Since ya didn’t consider any of our dates as…. dates, can I take you out on a proper one now?”

A smile spread across your face at his words. You nodded jerkily, staring down at your hands. Bokuto clapped his hands in finality.

“Great! Now, I need to eat these cupcakes and talk about how great they are.”

You laughed.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the croissants

buttercup, chapter one

a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.

summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)

word count: 2415

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?” 

Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”

“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”

“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”

Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.

“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”

“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.” 

“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.” 

Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”

“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”

“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”

As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out. 

Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”

“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”

“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.” 

“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.

“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.

“Bye!”

You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up. 

Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door. 

“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up. 

Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.

“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?” 

“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.

“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”

But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”

Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open. 

“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment. 

Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own. 

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!” 

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around. 

“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him. 

Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”

“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”

“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.” 

After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.

“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined. 

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first. 

“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction. 

“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”

“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?” 

“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”

“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”

“You?”

“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship. 

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”

“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”

“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”

“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.

“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”

“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”

“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”

“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”

“Yep.”

“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”

“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”

“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.” 

“Really?” 

“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”

“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”

“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”

“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words. 

But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”

The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.

Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”

Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”

Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”

“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”

“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”

Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks. 

As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips. 

Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?” 

“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue. 

“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”

“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”

“Sure, I like croissants.”

“Oh, great, wonderful!”

Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”

“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear. 

It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again. 

“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.” 

As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.  

“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!” 

And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared. 

“Night.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[archangeldyke-all]

I’m BEGGING for angst to fluff to casual by Chappell with Sevika

I’m PLEADING for “working opening shifts/weekday shifts when Sevika doesn’t come in at the last drop” to Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers and reader falls in love with Sevika once they finally meet. (I will physically pay you for this one xx)

ohhhh my gosh the phoebe one..... holy shit...

listen to punisher here

men and minors dni

i love a good place to hide in plain sight...

you're one of the most popular nameless faces in zaun.

you know the name of every of the last drop's regular customers. you overhear gossip and plans and drama about some of the biggest people in the city. the liquor you slide across the bar for a living makes everybody's lips loose, and you know more secrets than any one person should know.

but nobody knows your name.

customers call theiram 'chuck.'

they call you 'doll.'

you don't mind it. knowing how to go unnoticed, how to keep your head down-- that's what's kept you alive this long in zaun.

but it gets lonely.

when there's a birthday at the bar, you're the one to pass out party hats and pull out the sparklers. last year, you ate a cupcake alone on your front porch to celebrate your own.

when you bump into strangers on the street on your walks home, you apologize with a duck of your head. it's either your familiar face and the fact that you pour their drinks; or the meek way you shrink in on yourself-- but they let you go each time.

when you clock out, if you're lucky, you'll time your leaving to overlap with sevika's arrival. and, for just a moment, you can pretend that she knows you as well as you know her.

what if i told you i feel like i know you?

you've known sevika your whole life.

you're certain she doesn't recall, but when you were children, sevika caught you shivering and cold-- the cardboard box you were living in soaked through with rain. she lent you a jacket and all the pocket change she had. she even smiled at you.

you were a barback when she was running with vander. you were there when she turned her back on the man-- when she chose her city over her friend.

you were there to watch her deteriorate under silco's employ. first her arm, then the various beatings she'd be doled each month, then the arrival of the dark bags under her eyes.

on occasion, she'll get belligerently drunk, loitering at the bar far after close, there to greet you when you open again the next day. on these days, you're the one to give her a glass of water and walk her home safely. her home is always a mess. the star patterned blanket you pull over her shoulders is so old it must be from her childhood.

but we never met...

silco dies, and everything goes to shit.

there's a week there where you're too busy avoiding the grey to worry about work.

and then there's the war.

and then...

the last drop is just a pile of rubble. jinx and isha are just as dead as the bar. and sevika is named ambassador.

here everyone knows you're the way to my heart. hear so many stories of you at the bar. most times alone, and some looking your worst. but never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers...

ran and thieram rebuild the bar. they offer you a job. you're right back where you've always been-- standing behind a bar and eavesdropping on people with real lives.

from time to time, you'll hear about sevika.

sevika, who's lost everything. sevika, who lives in piltover now. the thought makes you snort-- you can only imagine the glare permanently imprinted on her face now.

sevika starts welfare programs for zaun, slowly but surely. schools open, widows and orphans are paid, and more bridges start being built across the river.

sevika doesn't smoke. sevika doesn't drink. she quit for a girl who's dead now. but occasionally you'll hear that she's been sulking around piltoverian bars, nursing a fizzy juice and looking haunted.

you'll hear that she doesn't scowl at people who approach her anymore, instead, she signs pictures of herself with a resigned smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you'll hear rumors that ambassador sevika can sometimes be heard quietly crying from her office.

sometimes, you'll walk by her old apartment. you wonder who lives there now. you wonder if she remembers those walks, if she remembers you.

you know she doesn't.

still, it doesn't stop you from crying for her.

i can't open my mouth and forget how to talk, 'cause even if i could i wouldn't know where to start, wouldn't know when to stop.

sevika's all alone in piltover and you're all alone in zaun. you wish you'd said something to her but you don't know when you could've.

maybe when you were kids, though you didn't know you were in love with her then.

maybe when you were strangers, though she would've simply laughed at your words.

maybe before she left zaun, though it happened so fucking fast.

you trail down the winding streets of the city she built, sipping on a bottle of her favorite whiskey, crying for her. for how lonely she must be. for how much she lost. you find yourself in front of her old home, like your feet have a mind of their own.

for a moment, you let yourself close your eyes and pretend that you're walking her home again. the woman you've loved your whole life-- the woman who doesn't know your name. you imagine the drunken slur of her voice, the stumble of her mis-matched boots, the warmth of her arm around your shoulders.

"dollface?" someone asks. your eyes fly open, and you blink at the woman in front of you. "what're you doin' here?"

sevika's wearing pajamas, her hair's a mess. she's got sand in her eyes that she's rubbing gently as she examines you from her front stoop.

you blink then stumble forward, reaching a shaky hand out to grab sevika's shoulder. she's real, solid and warm under your grasp. you gasp.

"have you been crying?" sevika whispers, her voice soft, her touch even softer as she reaches up to cup your cheeks.

there are a million things you want to say. i love you. i miss you. i am so sorry for you. for what happened to you. what are you doing here, don't you live in piltover? you look so tired. let me hold you, just for a day? let me tell you every single thing i love about you, i've got a list that's thirty years in the making. do you know who i am? do you know my real name? do you remember the nights you'd walk home with me under your arm? do you know those were the best nights of my life? do you remember when we were kids and you lent me your jacket? do you know i still sleep with it under my pillow?

but sevika's time with the pilties must've really softened her up, because instead of telling you to scram or spit it out, sevika reaches forward and pulls you in for a hug. "it's good to see you." she whispers against your shoulder.

you sob as you cling to her.

you don't think you'll ever stop crying.

you don't think you'll ever let go.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[ellieslittleslutt]

Late Nights

cw: fluff?? vi calls reader cupcake and princess once but that expected. some vague mentions of insomnia i guess.

a/n: uhm so first vi fic that’s wild, defo going to write more roommate vi bc im yearning and i need her so bad it’s not even funny.

wc- 0.5k

🐛°‧🍂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･───────────────

you had problems with sleeping sometimes. wether it was going to bed at a reasonable time or even just getting a deep sleep it was always a problem with you.

tonight was no exception. you were lounging on the couch of your guys’ apartment, doom scrolling on tiktok mindlessly liking whatever you found the slightest bit relatable. it’s was around 1 am which wasn’t too bad but still not ideal. on the coffee table sat a your favorite mug full of sleepytime tea in hopes that it would coax you back to sleep, but like every other time it never worked and didn’t even taste that good.

you were huddled up in the blankets when you saw your pink haired roommate coming out of her room, hair messed up wearing sleep shorts and a sports bra. she didn’t notice you at first in the dark, but then she accidentally sat down on you causing you to yelp smacking her arm “vi get off of me” you groaned.

“shit sorry princess” she mumbled half asleep scooting over. that god damn nickname always got you. you huffed going back to your phone “why’re you up?” you mumbled glancing at her. “i could ask you the same thing hm?” she hums sipping your tea “eugh fuck, this taste like dirty cardboard water” her face in a tight frown putting the mug down. “why do you think it’s half full idiot”

she leaned back against the couch sighing “so wait why’re you up?” she asked glancing over at you. “couldn’t sleep” you hummed resting your head against your elbow looking at her “and you?”“fucking jayce kept calling me” she mumbled with a yawn “asking about how to get bitches.” you chuckled softly shaking your head “viktor?” you asked “you know it.”

you hummed looking over at her kind of star struck by how she looked. you swear you had cartoon heart eyes beating out of your eye sockets. she looked at you with a soft smile patting your shin “wanna watch a movie?” she asks snapping you out of your trance and you just nodded clearing your throat “oh yeah” you said awkwardly pushing yourself up reaching for the remote.

you two both agreed on mean girls because why the fuck not. you sat closer to her your head slowly lolling itself onto her shoulder, vi looked down at you wrapping an arm around you so that you don’t slump down “you’re gonna hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that” she whispered rubbing your arm.

you hummed sleepily in response your lashes resting against your cheeks. vi made the connection that you weren’t going to get back to bed on your own so she paused the movie, and got up slowly lifting you into her arms to carry you back to your room lying you back down onto your blankets tucking you into how you liked.

you don’t know why but just for some reason you felt comfortable around vi, more relaxed and like your self. this is one of the few nights you fell asleep before 3 am and without a melatonin.

vi walked to the door turning off the lamp “night cupcake” she said softly before shutting the door walking off to her room.

from that night on vi would meet you in the couch just so you could yes fall asleep in her arms, totally platonic though… right?

🐛°‧🍂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･───────────────

@autisticintr0vert wifey: @bugbit3ss

[theonlyonesora]

Happy Birthday

Synopsis. It’s his birthday and you decide to surprise him with something special.

Pairings. (SEPARATE) Oscar Piastri x Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader, George Russell x Reader, Max Verstappen x Reader

Oscar Piastri

In Oscar’s apartment in Monaco. The morning sun filters through sheer curtains. Everything is still, soft and sleepy.

You tiptoe into the bedroom with a tray in your hands: burnt pancakes (because you tried), orange juice and a small candle flickering on a blueberry muffin.

Oscar wakes to the smell of vanilla and near disaster.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper, setting the tray on the nightstand.

He sits up, hair a mess, and gives you a crooked smile. “Did you cook?”

You wince. “Vaguely defined.”

He takes a bite anyway and coughs immediately. "Are you sure you didn't use sandpaper instead of flour?"

You slap his arm, laughing. "It's the thought that counts!"

Oscar pulls you onto his lap, forgetting about the cupcake. "You're the best gift."

You try to hide the smile on his neck. "I'm still going to make you eat the rest."

He groans dramatically, but eats each bite with a smile that won't leave his face for the rest of the day.

Lewis Hamilton

A rented country house in Italy, the garden is lit up with lanterns. He has no idea what’s coming.

You blindfold Lewis and lead him barefoot through the garden, biting your lip to contain your laughter.

“Are we going to die?” he asks calmly.

“Absolutely,” you say. “Death by birthday magic.”

When the blindfold comes off, he sees it: an intimate setting with fairy lights hanging from bamboo, a plate of vegan sushi, a vinyl player playing soft jazz, and yes, a life-size cake shaped like Roscoe in a racing suit.

He stares. “Is that… my dog? In cake form?”

“He deserves the spotlight,” you smile.

Lewis laughs so hard he doubles over, hands on his knees. “I love you.”

You blink, stunned.

He looks up, his eyes soft. “Yes, I love you.”

You smile. “Roscoe too.”

George Russell

Your posh London apartment was usually minimalist in decor—but today. Today, it’s chaos.

You’ve rebelled. Balloons everywhere. Glitter. Streamers. A cardboard cutout of George in his racing suit now wears a tiara and a feather boa. On the table, a cake shaped like a Mercedes steering wheel sits proudly.

George walks in, briefcase in hand, and freezes.

“…Honey?” he drawls. “What…what happened here?”

“It’s your birthday!” you yell, setting off a confetti cannon. It backfires. You scream. He laughs.

“I see we’ve abandoned elegance for the trauma of glitter.”

“Shut up and open your present.”

He unwraps a miniature of you, sculpted from chocolate.

George blinks. “You made me…edible?”

You blink. “Happy birthday, Mr. Delicious.”

He groans, laughs, and kisses you so hard you almost fall into his chocolate version.

Max Verstappen

His garage has been turned into a cave in Monaco. F1 posters, simulators, beer fridges. It’s his kingdom. You’ve infiltrated it like a spy.

You appear wearing a Red Bull sweatshirt two sizes too big and holding a box.

He narrows his eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Birthday present,” you say excitedly. “Guess.”

Max narrows his eyes. “It’s not another cat, is it?”

You snort. “No. Better.”

He opens it. Inside: a LEGO miniature of the Suzuka Circuit. With little figures of you and him on the podium.

He stares.

“You once said that building Legos calms you down. And you love Suzuka. So…”

Max is quiet.

“…Do you hate this?” you ask.

He pulls you into a bear hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I love it. And so do you. Plus, I’ll beat you at building this.”

You smile. “Whoever wants it.”

You spend the rest of the night on the floor, surrounded by bricks and laughter, and a stolen kiss every time he messes up a piece.

[irisintheafterglow]

welcome back to coparenting megumi with satoru (megs' birthday edition! because it's basically winter and i wanna write more found family fluff)

you're well aware that megumi is not a normal child.

you're reminded of it on a daily basis when he tells you about the low-level curses he spotted around the corner while he and tsumiki walked home from school. you're reminded when either you or satoru immediately go to the corner where he saw the curse and exorcising every curse within a four mile radius. you're reminded when he sees a dog and immediately wants to summon his divine dogs, even though his cursed energy isn't at a level where he can activate it without being wiped out for the rest of the day. but mostly, you're reminded on his birthdays that he was not born and will never be normal. still, satoru makes it his mission to give the boy what he calls a "bangin' birthday."

the other kids in his class would have their parents bring in cupcakes or goodies on their special day; megs, however, would probably argue that the other kids aren't deserving of the sweets you brought. so, on his 7th birthday, he's in class for barely an hour before you sign him out at the front desk. his eyes stare out the back window at the passing cityscape and he sips on a smoothie you had waiting for him when he met you at the front office.

"i thought you had a mission?"

"i called in a few favors and got today off," you reply happily, smiling wider when his fingers automatically grab your pinky. as you pull into the driveway of his first surprise, the tiniest gasp of realization leaves him and you wink at him through the rearview mirror. "recognize that sound, megs?" he nods furiously, throwing off his seatbelt as soon as the car is parked with excitement you'd never seen from him before. the barking coming from the house you've pulled up to only increases in volume while he practically runs up the front path and, with no warning, two gigantic dogs burst into the front yard and into the arms of the birthday boy.

"they still know me!" he beams as the two dogs nudge his face with their foreheads, sticking their nose against his clothes and licking stray drops of smoothie. "look, they still like me!"

"i see, megs," you say with a melancholy twist in your chest. even though he was becoming better at summoning his own divine dogs, you knew he missed the ones that helped him break his mental block in the first place. like no time had passed, megumi herds the dogs back into the house and they dutifully follow. you shoot your friend a text, thanking her for letting you use her house and letting him see the dogs she adopted all those years ago. while she worked in her office upstairs, she very generously gave you the rest of the first floor to use for birthday festivities. festivities, you noticed, were much more decorated than you previously planned it to be.

while megumi slips his shoes off at the door, the dogs race over to a gigantic box in the center of the dining room, barking furiously at it like it was an intruder. it's wrapped in shimmering, bright blue paper that gives you a headache the longer you look at it and looks suspiciously large enough to hide a 6-foot-something idiot. you knew you raised megs right when he's also immediately suspicious of the package, eyeing it with distaste as if he already knew what (or who) was inside.

"i'm guessing from your face that you didn't put that there," he remarks and you shake your head in acknowledgment. "any idea what's in it?" you swear you can hear a stupid giggle from inside the cardboard and you stifle a laugh.

"don't know," you say with fake indifference. "maybe it's a present from the dogs."

"it'd probably be hard for them to wrap seeing as they don't have thumbs," he states blankly, still frowning at the obnoxious wrapping paper. "wanna just put it somewhere to get it out of the way?"

"sure," you start, an idea popping into your head and a sly grin working its way onto your face. "i guess...i'll just throw it in my domain for now-"

"surprise!" as if on cue, the top of the box breaks open to reveal your very panicked boyfriend who despised portaling into your domain. he's wearing ridiculously oversized party glasses with frames shaped like balloons and his clothes are covered in metallic confetti that sprinkles onto your friend's floors. the dogs break into another bark-fest and satoru shushes them urgently; you break into giggles and help him step out of the box. "where's my favorite birthday boy?"

"why were you in there?"

"it's called a surprise, megumi. people have them when they want to have fun," he quips and you click your tongue, picking a stray piece of confetti from his hair. he murmurs an apology under his breath, kissing your forehead like he wasn't in bed with you a few hours earlier. "hi, gorgeous."

"hey, handsome. your limbs alright after being stuck in there?"

"a little creaky, but i'll survive," he reassures you, stretching out his ridiculously lanky arms as an example. his hand gestures to the ungodly amount of streamers and balloons that were much more than you'd bought last week. "i did a little redecorating."

"i see that," you chuckle. "alright, megs. you ready for your next birthday activity?" he looks up from his spot on the floor, where he'd somehow convinced the dogs to lay on either side of him.

"there's more?"

"mhmm, and it involves some strawberries from the fridge. you wanna help me wash them?" he nods and walks over to the fridge with the dogs trailing behind him. "there should be a strainer already in the sink."

"you still think we'll be able to make it to the park?" satoru asks quietly, pulling you into his arms and watching the winter sky become more unfriendly. "i can protect us from the rain, but a storm would probably ruin the atmosphere we've got goin' here."

"i agree," you murmur. a glance at the mirror shows megumi standing on a stool in front of the sink, sneaking washed berries to the dogs. "though, i don't think he'd mind just staying here."

"i also agree. i can order some lunch and go pick it up while dessert bakes. i need to go grab tsumiki, anyway," he suggests. "she can help me pick out matching cozy sweaters for when we watch a movie."

"i think megs would rather die than wear a matching sweater with you, sweetheart."

"true," he concedes. "but i'll do that, then. need anything else while i'm out?"

"no, just for you to get back faster."

"i'll be here before you can even blink, beautiful."

"are we making me a birthday cake?" megumi calls from the kitchen, finally noticing the ingredients stacked neatly on the island counter. "and does that mean i can throw food at satoru?"

"if you can get him to turn off infinity, then sure," you reply. your boyfriend makes a face of betrayal and you stick your tongue out at him. "tell him it's for your birthday present."

"gojo, i know what i want for my birthday!"

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[spindle-and-nima]

Nature is beautiful

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi 😊

From crab dance prompt list 57.Love letters written in the dead of night for Terry and Georgia please 💞

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

I can not believe how quickly this turned NSFW - it is the curse if Terry Silver.

Companion piece to:

Colic - Terry steps in when he realises you're struggling with Sebastian.

It’s three in the morning and Terry is standing in the kitchen with Sebastian tucked into the crook of his arm, guzzling the bottle of formula when he spies the pink heart-shaped post-it stuck to tiny cardboard box on the counter.

“What has mommy left for us little one?” He murmurs to his son as he tilts his head to read the note you’ve written.

For all of those 3am feeds, the post it reads, and for saving my sanity.

He hooks his finger on the lid of the cardboard box, lifting it to see a cupcake.  Not just any cupcake, but a red velvet one from the Hummingbird Bakery, Terry’s favourite patisserie in LA. There’s tiny red hearts sprinkled on top of cream cheese frosting. He swipes his finger through it and the way it tastes on his tongue is utterly divine.

It’s a such a thoughtful token of appreciation, he can’t help but smile as he flicks the post it over so he can write his own note.

Wake me up at the 6am feed and I’ll lick the icing off you. This is an order! X

He wakes up to the sensation of your mouth on him, that wet, hot heat enclosing around his cock as his fingers thread through your hair, hips arching.

“This is not what I had in mind.” He mumbles into the pillow as his dick kisses the back of your throat. Your eyes flicker up to meet his and that doe eyed innocence has him erupting on your tongue, his release spilling into your mouth as you swallow every single drop. He’s breathless as you kiss a heated trail up his chest, draping yourself over his spent form. His palm slips under the elastic of your silk pyjama shorts, smoothing over your ass as you nuzzle into the curve of his throat.

“You’re a bad girl.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your temple. “I was supposed to fuck you stupid this morning.”

“I’m sure you can get it up again for me.” You tease, your breath ghosting in his ear as his hand slips between your thighs, coating his fingertips with your wetness. You sigh contently as he dips inside of you, fingers lightly pumping.

“I think you were right.” He whispers, using his free hand to guide yours to his stiffening cock. “You’ll be getting that fucking after all.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[jordiipordii]

imagine in the next book, Jeremy is about to head home from the new apartment when Laila rushes up to him and gives him a big hug. and Cat has a little decorative cardboard box with a single cupcake in it, and it’s got an unlit candle, and Jeremy looks at it and Jean can see from where he’s sitting that Jeremy gets misty eyed. he’d swear he imagined his captain mumble “thank you so much,” and watch as Jeremy gave both girls hugs before ducking out and taking the cupcake with him.

Jean won’t ask, at first, but after dinner he’ll be squaring away the dirty dishes when he looks at Laila and asks, “why the unnecessary sugar?” because of course that’s how he’d ask, because why give Jeremy sugar when they have a game coming up, and when he’s been telling his captain that there is no nutritional benefit in such things, and—

“oh,” Cat and Laila would both cut in, but Cat would find her voice first. it sounds a little uneven with… guilt, maybe? “we didn’t tell you,” Cat would realize out loud as she fit herself against Laila’s side, and Jean would watch impatiently as Laila wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. “didn’t tell me what?” he’d ask.

“today is Jeremy’s sobriety date, Jean. 4 years. sorry, he doesn’t like to talk about it—“

but whatever else Cat says gets lost as Jean’s head fills with cotton. he’d spent most of the day with Jeremy, as always; he’d noticed the somber look with which Jeremy had tried and failed to go about his day with some sense of normalcy. now it made sense. an important day.

and Jean is beside himself with a gnawing sense of grief and guilt. he had thought to ask, more than once, but had promised himself he would give Jeremy his privacy. but now…

“I’m sorry, we should have told you,” Laila would say as Jean worked his jaw this way and that, and his strides would be long as he made his way to the hall.

“no,” the word feels bitter coming out. “it would not be my place to know,” Jean says, and all three know that is a lie. but the unexpected tension is too much and Jean retreats to his room, barely content to shut the door as he thinks of a sunshine smile, a kind heart, and a deep bruise that he knows infects them both.

Jean thinks of photographs of a sunshine man, a bright thing back in the grim hellhole that had been his life in the Nest, and thinks of the long shadow that he now knows that such a large amount of light casts. he thinks of Jeremy, his captain; his partner.

Jean knows he’s done no wrong by not knowing what today’s date means to Jeremy, but that doesn’t take the ill feeling out of his gut, and he doesn’t sleep that night. ill-advised.

[ask-enchantingdelights]

Canela quickly turns her back to the purrloin, and prepares their order in silence. She tries to concentrate solely on building the cardboard box that will house the shop's cupcake, but the silence causes her mind to wonder. Famous... Her smile falters a bit at the thought and a knot forms in her stomach. Luckily, a single ding coming from the kitchen easily brings her back to attention, and she shakes her head free from dreaming.

The girl goes back to finishing the order, and looks back at the customer waiting.

Canela: "Gracias por esperar, tu orden sale a 10 oros. Puedes quedarte a comer si te da gusto." (Thanks for waiting, your order comes out to 10 gold. You can stay and eat if you like.)

@askpokecallcenter

[xomarzz]

red velvet

1.2k words, sylus x black!fem!reader, FLUFF, established relationship, semi-drabble, very domestic, a LOT of banter, sassy sylus (tm), reader bakes sylus a cake just cause, written with black reader in mind, but really no identifying characteristics

a/n: i was reading another fic and got the idea for mc to bake a cake for sylus, because i love being delusional to domestic sylus if i love nothing else <3

the kitchen was filled with the sounds of measuring cups clinking, the hum of the oven preheating, and the soft, almost rhythmic motion of you stirring ingredients in a mixing bowl. you promised sylus a heart-shaped red velvet cake—his favorite—and now you were determined to make it perfect. but you insisted on doing it from scratch, and ‘together’, and that made things... interesting.

"are you *sure* you know what you’re doing?" sylus’ voice flowed into you ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder, a teasing edge to it. you glanced over at him, and the playful smirk on his face only made you roll your eyes.

"excuse me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m a pro baker. ask about me!"

he stepped back, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “right. ‘pro baker’. i’ll believe it when I taste the cake and it doesn’t end up tasting like cardboard.”

you gave him an exaggerated, dramatic gasp, pointing the batter covered spoon in his face. "how dare you question my skills in the kitchen! i’m offended."

sylus laughed, low and teasing, and nudged your shoulder. "i’m just saying, you might want to stick to cupcakes. they’re smaller. easier to mess up."

"well," you shot back, stirring the batter with extra flair, "you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you? i told you i’m a *pro baker.*" you hum, continuing your work

"uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced." sure you are. so, what’s next in your ‘genius’ plan? do i get to be the taste tester?”

“absolutely not,” you said, scoffing. “matter of fact— you’re banned from tasting it until the final product is ready. i can’t have you messing up my process with your hating.”

he leaned in a little, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “i think i could be a pretty helpful taste tester. i mean, i have *refined* tastes,” he said, tapping his chin. "and i’m definitely not above doing *important work* to help out."

you playfully swatted his arm, your lips curling into a grin. "i don’t need your ‘refined tastes’ distracting me. i’m trying to make a masterpiece here."

“yeah, sure,” sylus said, laughing softly. “you just focus on that, and i’ll just be over here, admiring your... technique.”

you rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the soft smile spreading across your face. his teasing was one of the things you loved about him, and despite the playful jabs, there was always that undeniable warmth in the way he looked at you.

“alright, alright,” you said, turning back to your bowl. “you’re the official egg cracker. since you claim to be the ‘refined’ one, you’ll be handling the delicate cracking of the eggs. no pressure.

“cracking eggs is delicate now?” sylus asked with a raised brow and slight smirk, clearly amused.

“obviously.” you reply with another eye roll. “you have to crack them just right, or the cake will come out all wrong. do you want me to fail at this?”

deciding to amuse you, sylus grinned, walking over to the counter and grabbing an egg, holding it up with exaggerated importance. “no, no. i wouldn’t dream of ruining your *genius* cake,” he said in a voice laced with sarcasm, before cracking the egg with a dramatic flare.

you chuckled, watching him try so hard to look dramatic while cracking an egg. “i can’t believe you’re actually trying to make cracking eggs look serious and cool.”

“well, *someone* has to bring the style to the kitchen,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink. “you’re welcome.”

“oh, please,” you laughed, lightly nudging him with your elbow. “let me know when you crack an egg with *real* finesse.”

sylus dropped the cracked egg into the bowl with a look of exaggerated satisfaction. “i think i just did.”

you sighed dramatically, trying to keep your focus as you measured out the flour. “whatever you say. i’ll just be over here doing the *hard* work.”

“you’re sooo humble,” he said with a grin, sidling up beside you to peer at the bowl. “how does it look so far? do you need any more *expert* opinions?”

you shot him a glance, not missing the mischief in his eyes. “do you want to help or just critique?”

“well, i’m definitely more of a supervisor than a worker right now,” he said, leaning in to sneak a taste of the batter with his finger.

you swatted his hand away before he could do any more damage. “aht. that’s for the *finished* product. get out of here with your bad habits, contaminating my cake!”

sylus just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “alright, alright, i’ll behave. for now.”

with the cake now in the oven, the two of you leaned against the counter, arms brushing as you shared a quiet moment. sylus was still smiling, but now there was a softness to his expression, a warmth in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

"for real though," you said, catching his eye, "i’m really glad you’re here."

sylus raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "oh really what about me being here makes this cake-baking thing so special?"

you leaned in slightly, your voice softening as you looked up at him. "honestly? it just feels different with you. in a good way! i can’t really explain it... but it just feels right when you're here."

though trying to hide it—sylus gave you a genuine smile from the slight curve of his lips, the expression managing to make your heart skip. "glad i’m your kitchen partner in crime, then."

the oven timer went off, and the sweet scent of the red velvet cake filled the room. you immediately jumped up, full of energy and excitement. "it’s cake time!” sylus couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head following behind, as you grabbed the oven mitts. “time for the true test.”

"well—someone’s suddenly very interested in the cake."

"i’m telling you, i’m a *great* taste tester," he said with a smirk.

the two of you shared a quiet moment as you pulled the cake out of the oven. the frosting could wait, but for now, everything felt right. sylus stood beside you, his presence enough to make the moment feel complete.

once the cake was cooled and the buttercream frosting had been perfectly spread, you handed sylus a fork. he took it, studying the cake with a raised brow, faking skepticism. as soon as he took a bite, his eyes widened slightly in surprise, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "well," he said, taking another forkful. "this... is actually..really good." you couldn't help but smile at the praise. "i told you," you teased, nodding your head, then nudging him lightly. "pro baker never fails." sylus smirked, setting the fork down with a small chuckle. "fine, you win. i might just be a little impressed.”

once he finished the last bite, sylus leaned back, his gaze lingering on you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. his eyes softened, then, without a word, he reached forward, cupping your face gently in his hand, and before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss. it was slow, almost as if he was savoring the moment, and when he pulled away, his eyes were full of something unspoken. "you always surprise me," he murmured, voice low and sincere.

~gg♡

[spicerackofblorbos]

Wishes | Leon S. Kennedy x gn!Reader

☾ summary ➼ Leon comes home just in time for the clock to turn midnight on your birthday.

☾ content/warnings ➼ fluff, any version of leon, suggestive themes, food (cupcakes)

☾ a/n ➼ hi it's my birthday and I love this man. I was talking to my friend about Leon surprising me with a cupcake at midnight and I made a joke about frosting being everywhere, if you know what i mean. and, well. here we are. NOT PROOFREAD SORRY it's 2am at the time of writing this.

☾ wc ➼ ~600

Leon comes home one night, earlier than planned, but still late for most. He sets his keys into the bowl next to the front door and makes sure to lock everything up before making his way to your shared bedroom.

He finds you humming to yourself, flipping through a book, and propped up against the headboard. You’re dressed in comfortable pajamas and half covered by the plush blankets that decorate the bed.

The moment Leon steps into the doorway, your head flicks up at the movement. A Cheshire grin pulls at your lips at the welcome sight of him, then grows even wider when you see the little box in his hands.

“Hello, birthday girl.” Leon says with a smirk, stepping his way into the bedroom.

As he does, he takes a moment to pull off his shoes and socks, throwing them into the corner to be taken care of in the morning. With two fingers, he tugs at his tie to loosen it around his collar, just as he sits on your side of the bed.

“Hello, working man. Is that for me?” You say as you shut your book and slide it on the nightstand next to you. Leon reaches over to you with the box and pulls it open so you can look inside.

Sitting snug between cardboard is a cupcake with light pink frosting piped high. You start to reach over but are interrupted by Leon tutting at you.

“Hold on, you’re forgetting the most important part.” He says with a chuckle. He reaches a hand into his slacks and pulls out a single white candle and a lighter. It doesn’t take long for him to push the candle gently into the soft treat and lighting it with a single flick.

“There. Make a wish.” Leon says softly.

“Hmmm. I don’t know, I think I have everything I need.” You say as you sit up now, the headboard creaking from the sudden loss of weight against it.

“Really? There’s not a single thing?”

“Well…” You pretend to think for a second, then lean forward, letting loose a single puff of air. The warm fire dies into a stream of smoke just as quickly as it was lit.

Taking the candle out, you pop the end that was in the sticky treat into your mouth, savoring the sweet frosting on your tongue. Leon’s blue eyes never leave yours, though there’s a lift in one of his dark brows.

“Well, what did you wish for?”

“Leon, if I told you then it won’t come true.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s just me.”

You poke a finger into the frosting and pick some up, eyeballing it carefully. Before Leon could react, you reach over and smear it on his stubbled cheek. His eyes go wide.

“What was that for?” Leon goes to wipe it with the back of his hand, but you grab his wrist lightly and stop him.

“I’m just showing you what I wished for, darling.” A coy smile lights up your face. With his wrist in your grip, you tug him into you, and you don’t hesitate to lick up his cheek. Now, the saltiness of Leon’s skin mixes with the sugary sweetness, and you can’t get enough.

“You better be careful what you wish for, baby.” Leon  warns, sliding the cupcake box by the book on your dresser. You didn’t notice that he had done the same thing you did until you felt something cool across your exposed collarbones.

It was only fifteen minutes into midnight, and Leon made sure your second gift would be given soon after.