#hes scared to admit he was baking? why?

[ask-steven-stevenson]

one of your…. Employees told me to come speak to you, so. Here I am.

*HUMAN HARRY JUMPSCARE RAAA*

@ask-harry-fitzgerald

“WH. WHEN. When did they talk to you..- uhm. Well. Hello. I was. Baking..-“

[ORG.. hes nervous. He just made his son some macaroon dough…]

“Y.You’re human.again.,uhm.”

[he sounds. Mix of nervous and surprised..]

[itneverendshere]

in the alley, in the back, in the center of this room - r.c (+18)

pairing: kelce's sister x hockey!rafe warnings: smut

You hadn’t seen Rafe in a week. 

Seven whole days without him hovering over you, being annoying, or sneaking his hands under your shirt when no one was looking.

You sexted, of course, sent a few pictures. Okay, more than a few, but it wasn’t the same. You could tell he was getting frustrated, too, hitting you with the “wish I was there” and “gonna make you pay for that when I see you” texts.

You missed him. Ugh, you hated that you missed him. You weren’t supposed to—Rafe wasn’t your boyfriend, but you were spoiled, used to having him whenever you wanted.

You found out the hard way that he was back, sitting in the library, drowning in microeconomic equilibrium theory you didn’t understand, when someone suddenly gripped the back of your chair, leaning so close that you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Missed me, princess?”

Your hand flew to your chest. 

“What the fuck?!” You whispered-yell, glaring up while he grinned.

He reached out to tug on a curl like he had the right to. Your first instinct was to slap his hand away, you hated when people touched your hair without permission, it made your skin crawl, made you want to ask who the hell raised you?

Rafe however...He always did it like it was just something he got to do. Your body let him. No flinching, side-eye, or glare—just the sharp inhale you tried to hide and the way your lashes fluttered before you could stop them.

Shit.

You liked when he did it.

His hair was still damp from a shower, curling at the ends. His eyes flicked over your face, and you wondered if he could tell you were staring. The last time you saw him, he was between your thighs, mouthing at you like he was getting paid to. That was his send-off, his “see you later” gift, and the way he looked at you then had been haunting you all fucking week. 

“Aw, did I scare you?” Rafe slid into the chair next to yours. “Whatcha doing?”

You gestured at your laptop, your notebook, the complete disaster that was your study space. “Dying.”

He dragged your notebook toward him, ignoring your protests as his eyes scanned the mess of numbers and half-baked notes. “You’re doing it wrong.”

You exhaled, frustrated. “No shit.”

He pulled his chair closer—so close your knees knocked together.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?”

You rolled your eyes, deadpaned. “Too busy staring at your dick pics, sorry.”

Rafe’s grin stretched wider, “Yeah? Got you that distracted?”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, flipping a page in your notebook. You did spend the entire week in a foul mood, throwing an internal tantrum about not getting laid whenever you wanted, completely forgetting you even had a quiz coming up until the last second. You’d spent more time thinking about him than you’d ever admit, rereading his texts like a loser

That wasn’t like you. 

“Pay attention,” He jokingly scolded, tapping the page with his pen as he caught you ogling him like some desperate, touch-starved idiot.

Your brain wasn’t cooperating, but in your defense, you’d been thinking about that night before he left. He started writing. Fast, neat, too efficient for someone who spent most of his time being a brute on the ice. That was almost worse than the teasing. 

You knew Rafe was smart, but seeing it up close? Watching him put your mess of half-assed equations into something that made sense? It was so hard to listen when he was right there, warm, smelling so good. He explained things easily, it almost sounded like this shit wasn’t complete gibberish. 

That did things to you.

Your legs pressed together under the table, mortified at yourself. Because, wow, this was bad. You were so weak, this was a new low.

Blah, blah, supply and demand, blah, blah, equilibrium. You tilted your head, watching the way his lips moved, the crease in his brows when he was focused. You must’ve been staring for a good while, because he turned, catching you mid-fantasy, bottom lip stuck between your teeth. 

Rafe’s lips twitched, as he leaned in, pressing a peck to your lips.

You jerked back, scandalized. “We’re in public.”

He shrugged, utterly shameless. “No one saw.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t care.” He leaned in again, brushing your cheek. “Can’t help it. It’s been a week.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing no good ever came from his teasing. “Behave.”

“Make me.”

His knee bumped against yours again, and his fingers started tracing little circles on your thigh, skimming your skin where your skirt rided up.

You swatted at his hand without looking. 

“Pay attention,” you mocked, throwing his words back at him.

Rafe hummed, flipping the page in your notebook like he was being helpful. Then he reached over, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You start paying attention,” he murmured, voice low “Or you’re staying celibate until you’re done with the quiz.”

 “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” He leaned back, amused, after dropping the most devastating sentence you’ve ever heard. “You study, you pass, you get what y’want.”

Oh, that little— You refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even if the memory of him—his hands gripping your hips, his voice all wrecked while you rode him into the mattress—was currently frying your brain.

He thought you were just gonna sit here and let him dangle sex over your head like some kind of academic incentive.

“That’s cute,” you forced a sweet smile. “You think you can tell me what to do.”

“Know I can.”

You rolled your eyes, tapping your pen against your notebook. “I’ll just find someone else to get the job done.”

“Who?” he asked, voice all amused. “Limp dick? The one I had to beat the fuck up on the ice ‘cause he was talkin’ shit about you?”

You should’ve known he’d bring that up again.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But Rafe was already grinning, he wasn’t dumb, you weren’t going to mess around with anyone else. He could tell that even when you tried to get under his skin, you weren’t serious.

“Right,” he nodded, playing along like you had options. “Yeah, no. You’re not fuckin’ him. Or anyone else.” 

You scoffed, “And who said I wanted you?”

He pretended to think it over, fingers rubbing his chin, “Man, I don’t know. You looked real desperate in that one video you sent—”

You immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, warmth already making you squirm in your seat, “I will kill you.”

Rafe chuckled against your palm, eyes glinting as he peeled your hand away with ease, gripping your wrist. “Y’know, the one where you were moaning my name?” His voice was just loud enough to make your stomach drop, “With your fingers—"

Your eyes widened in panic as you shot a glance around the library. 

“Rafe,” you hissed, smacking his arm.

“What? M’just saying, you looked so needy. All spread out, fingers deep—”

You slapped your hand over his mouth again, his voice muffled against your skin, absolutely loving how flustered you were.

That’s why this was fun—because you knew Rafe and he knew you, neither of you were fucking around with other people. That���s why you didn’t use condoms, why he finished inside every time without either of you even thinking twice about it.

“Shut up,” you attempted to keep your laughter at bay because fuck, he was annoying.

Rafe pushed your hand away again, “Bet you watched it back, huh? Wishing it was me instead of your fingers?”

You glared, smacking his chest.

“I leave for one week and you lose all self-control.”

You shoved at him, harder this time, but he just squeezed your side gently. “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for it.”

“Nah, nah, I’m just saying—" He dropped his voice an octave, mimicking a breathy little moan, “Rafe, please—”

“Oh my God.” You lunged at him this time, hand slapping over his mouth in pure desperation.

He was full-on shaking with laughter against you, his shoulders bouncing. His eyes crinkled at the corners, blue as ever, absolutely fucking delighted with himself. You could feel his lips still moving under your hand, he was trying to keep going just to piss you off more.

“You are such a child,” you gritted, pushing down harder like you could physically mute him.

You shot another panicked look around, losing it over the idea of someone overhearing this bullshit. But the library was still pretty empty—except for a couple of freshmen in the corner, who thankfully weren’t paying you any attention.

“You wish I was that desperate,” you shot back, flipping your notebook shut because there was absolutely no way you were studying now.

Rafe scoffed, leaning back in his chair, spreading his legs, “Open it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

“Your notebook. Open it.”

You crossed your arms. “Why?”

Rafe reached over and flipped it open himself, plucking your pen from the table, and spinning it between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re gonna sit here, take notes like a good girl, and pass your quizz—” He leaned in, voice dropping to a drawl. “—then I’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget all about how much you hated studying.”

You swallowed, your thighs closing instinctively. Son of a bitch, he was really going to make you study. You snatched your pen from his hand with a glare, turning back to your notes.

His free hand landed on your knee, thumb rubbing circles.

"Good girl," he praised.

Fucker.

You huffed, shoving his hand away—not that it did much, since he just put it right back. 

“This is stupid.”

“And you’re real fuckin' cute when you’re mad at me.”

His eyes dropped to your lips for a second before he sat back, physically stopping himself from kissing you, tapping the page.

“Try it now,” he said, mocking.

You blinked at the page, trying to refocus, but fuck, your brain was not cooperating, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to get under this fucking table. You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to look at the notes he so generously organized for you, but all the numbers and words blurred together.

“You’re not even trying.”

“I was trying before you showed up.”

Rafe chuckled. “No, you weren’t. You were pouting. Probably about me.”

“As if.”

He tilted his head, unconvinced. “Mmm. What were you thinking about, then? You looked really…” He licked his lips, eyes moving down your body before dragging back up to your face. “Focused.”

Your fingers twitched where they rested on the table, gripping your pen. You weren’t going to answer that when you had been thinking about him

You weren’t admitting shit.

 “Shut the fuck up.”

He laughed, absolutely delighted, reaching over and twisting your pen right out of your grip, tucking it behind his ear.

You stared at him, exasperated. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll give it back.”

You pursed your lips, “Give me my pen.”

“Say please.”

You made a grab for it, but he was faster, pulling back just out of reach, the movement making his shirt lift, high enough for you to catch a sliver of tan skin, the cut of his abs—You forced yourself to look away before you did something embarrassing, like drool.

Rafe saw, his smirk turning downright filthy.

“Eyes up here, princess.” He tapped his own chin. 

You inhaled through your nose, willing yourself to stay calm. “Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

“Give me my fucking pen.”

“C’mon,” he drawled, spinning the pen between his fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You leaned in, glaring at him. “I’m going to stab you with it.”

“See? That’s not very nice.”

If he wanted to play games, you could play, too.

You tilted your head, softening your gaze, letting the tiniest smirk curl at your lips. “Rafe,” you murmured, reaching out and skimming your fingers over his wrist, featherlight. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his arrogant expression faltering.

You hardly touched him, leaning in close enough that your breath tickled his ear, letting your nails trail up his forearm, watching in satisfaction as goosebumps prickled in their wake.

This was too easy.

“Please, Rafe,” you murmured again, barely brushing your lips against his jaw this time, just the softest ghost of a touch—

And boom.

The pen hit the table with a clatter.

Your lips curled against his skin, gotcha. God, that was satisfying. You leaned back, slow, picking up the pen like nothing happened. 

“See?” You grinned, twirling it between your fingers. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“You know what else is hard?”

Your pen slipped, the tip dragging a line of ink across the page.

“You should fix that. Can’t have sloppy notes, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, his knee touched yours again, his fingers flexing over your thigh, fingertips teasing at the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe,” you hissed in warning.

“C’mon, no one’s looking.”

Your eyes darted around, but the library had emptied. The couple of freshmen in the corner were suddenly gone. It was late, and the space had gone quiet, save for sound of the AC and the occasional rustle of paper.

His hand slid higher, his breath warm against your jaw. “Been thinkin' about you all week.”

“Not here,” you gulped, even as your thighs parted automatically.

Rafe hummed in approval, his lips grazing your temple. Then, he was grabbing your wrist, yanking you up so fast you barely had time to shove your laptop closed, tripping over your own feet.

“Rafe—!”

He didn’t listen, steering you between the bookshelves with ease, deeper into the back corner of the library. It was dimmer here, the overhead lights flickering slightly.

“Relax,” he murmured, spinning you until your back hit the shelves. His hands found your body, holding on to your curves. “Wouldn’t let anyone see you like this.”

You protested, but it melted into a sigh when he nipped at your lips, trailing soft kisses down your neck. “You’re the worst tutor ever.”

His mouth was on yours then, stopping the scolding, his hands skimming your thighs, teasing the edge of your underwear. His fingers ghosted over your core, feeling the damp fabric.

“Missed this,” he confessed against your skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath when he hooked a finger under the thin strip of lace, dragging it to the side, baring you to him, sliding against you—and oh, fuck.

Your grip tightened on his shirt, hips jerking involuntarily into his touch. His breath came out in a sharp exhale, his forehead dropping to yours. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice all wrecked. “You missed me too, huh?”

You wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but your brain, your entire body was betraying you as his fingers molded themselves to you, spreading you open, sliding through your slick with an arrogance that made you want to smack him. Or, maybe, fuck him right here.

Your head thunked back against the bookshelf. “Rafe,” you gritted out.

“What?” He tilted his head, “Somethin’ you wanna ask me?”

You glared at him. “If you don’t fucking move—”

“Been thinking about me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but then he flattened the tip of his finger inside, teasing, “Haven’t exactly had a choice,” you admitted, voice breathy.

 “Yeah? Kept you up, didn’t I?”

You hated how well he knew you.

He laughed under his breath, but listened, finally sliding one finger in, all the way to the knuckle, slow enough to make you feel every inch of it.

His forehead fell against yours as gently as possible, feeling you squeeze around his finger was testing his patience. “Been dreamin’ about this all fuckin’ week.”

He started moving, curling his finger inside you, hitting that spot that made your thighs tremble. His thumb dragged over your clit, featherlight at firsst, only enough to make your hips jerk, slipping in a second, the stretch making your breath stutter, your nails sinking into his shoulder.

You could hear how wet you were, the sound of it filling the tiny corner of the library. It should’ve embarrassed you, but all it did was make Rafe groan under his breath.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his hand tightening on your hip. “Y’hear that, baby? How fuckin’ wet you are for me?”

Your thighs squeezed around his hand, your breath turning uneven.

“You always get this messy,” His tone was smug, pupils blown wide, like he was drunk on you. “Couldn’t even focus all week, could you?”

You swallowed, knowing you couldn’t lie and in return, he pressed closer, thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. 

“Say it.”

Your head dropped back against the shelf, a whimper slipping out before you could stop it.

"Uh-uh," he tsked, dragging his fingers up, agonizingly so, “C’mon.”

You exhaled sharply, “T-thought about you every night.”

Rafe groaned, fingers fucking into you faster, rougher. “That’s it,” he murmured, forehead pressing against yours. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, barely stifling your cry, thighs trembling against his hand. You were looking up at him with those big, pleading eyes, already knowing you had him right where you wanted him.

He let out a quiet, almost amused exhale, shaking his head. “Fingers or cock?”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear now. He wasn’t teasing—wasn’t gonna make you beg.

Your answer came quick, needy. “Cock.”

His fingers continued to work you open first, thorough, making sure you were ready—though you were already soaked, whining his name. And fuck, you need to feel him, to sink into him.

He pulled out, only to replace them with his cock, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust, groaning at the way you clenched around him. His forehead dropped to yours, breath ragged, hands gripping your thighs, legs wrapped around his waist.

You swore he felt even more solid than before—broader, stronger. A week away at training camp, skating, lifting, and it showed. It wasn’t fair that he could come back after a week and feel like this, move like this, take up so much space and attention like he always did.

“Told you I was gonna make you wait,” his voice was strained. “Guess I lied.” Rafe’s fingers dug into your thighs, pushing you harder against the bookshelf, words spilling out between thrusts. “Goddamn—Like I never even left."

You felt every inch of him stretching you out, as always, never fully getting used to how good it felt. The bookshelf behind you rattled with every movement, joining your breathy gasps, the wet slap of skin on skin.

He bit down gently on your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, “You missed me,” he sounded delirious, dragging his lips down your throat, letting his teeth graze your skin before sucking. “Bet you were fuckin’ yourself stupid thinking about this, weren’t you?”

The thought of him had kept you up all night, fingers buried deep, wishing it was him instead. You couldn’t even deny it, your hips jerking to meet each thrust, desperate to get him even deeper.

Rafe chuckled darkly at your silence, dropping his forehead against yours, breath ragged, “Came thinking about me fillin’ you up, huh?” His hands tightened on your thighs, adjusting his grip, the angle making you gasp. “Fuck—tell me.”

Your hands fisted in his hair, your walls clenching around him, making his rhythm stutter. You swallowed, throat dry from all the garbles you kept letting out. “Wanted you—fuck, Rafe—I wanted you so bad.”

 “Yeah? Think about me stretching this pussy out?”

A ragged moan slipped from your lips, and he caught it, swallowing it down with an open-mouthed kiss. His knees buckled when your walls fluttered around him, fingers digging into your thighs as he tilted your chin up, keeping your lips fused to his, tongue sweeping against yours, licking into your mouth like he couldn’t stand not tasting you.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, kissing you through every thrust, his lips dragging over yours between moans, biting your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “So fuckin’ good, baby—”

Every time you moaned, he was there, stealing it with his lips, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, kissing you through it. Rafe hissed when you bit his lip, dragging him impossibly closer, gasping when he hit that spot. His forehead pressed to yours, mouth brushing yours.

“Keep kissing me,” you panted.

His answering growl vibrated against your lips before he obeyed—his mouth slanting over yours again, licking, sucking, drowning in you as he fucked you right there between the bookshelves.

Your head thunked back against the bookshelf, and Rafe chased after you, hand bracing on one side of your head as he devoured you. It made your thighs shake where they were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his back.

“Look at you,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours, diving deeper just to watch you. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering, but he didn’t let you look away.

“Fucking ruined for me,” he breathed, lips still grazing yours with every panting breath.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, clinging to him as he pounded into you, desperate now.

“C’mon,” he rasped, his voice all beautifully wrecked against your cheek, his thumb slipping between you to take care of your clit, his other hand gripping your jaw, keeping your lips right there—teeth scraping over your bottom lip, his tongue following right after, kissing you through it, swallowing your scream as your body went taut, your orgasm hitting you so hard your vision went white for more than ten seconds.

Your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close as his thrusts turned sloppier. Rafe groaned, light-headed at this point, stuttering as you clenched so good around him, dragging him with you. He swallowed your gasps, moaning into your mouth as he buried himself deep, coming inside, filling you up just like always.

Your hands roamed, slipping under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach, his muscles twitching under your touch. You traced up his ribs, nails raking down his back, and Rafe groaned against your lips, his cock twitching inside you.

You pulled back, just enough to whisper against his mouth. “You’re still hard.”

Rafe huffed a laugh, “Yeah. Wonder why.” His fingers flexed on your hips before sliding up your back, curling around the back of your neck.

You whimpered, pressing closer, rolling your hips instinctively, “’M sensitive.”

“Payback.”

You smacked his shoulder weakly, still trying to catch your breath. “Shut up.”

He grinned, fixing your skirt, not before getting a good handfull of your ass, “Mmm, love when y'get all bratty after I fuck the attitude outta you.”

Your legs were wobbly as you adjusted your skirt and tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable, while he tucked himself back into his jeans, his hands moving with an infuriating ease.

“Asshole,” you muttered as you straightened your top, smoothing your hands over your thighs. “You should probably go first. Before someone sees us.”

Rafe tilted his head, studying you. “You care that much?”

You frowned, glancing around the library. You weren’t embarrassed, but there was something about the way he asked the question that made you hesitate.

This was fine, just a thing, a very casual thing. No big deal.

You hated the way his words affected you though. “Rafe—”

“Relax, princess.” He smirked, but there was something in his tone that made you wonder if he cared as much. 

He stepped closer again, his fingers moving along your jaw before he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips—and when he pulled away, his lips brushed against your temple, fleeting.

Alright, stay cool. No need to overthink it.

“I’ll email you my notes from last year,” he murmured, his breath fanning over your skin. “Should help with your quiz. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there.

You exhaled, leaning against the bookshelf, knowing you were a little mean for no reason, you were protecting yourself. You were supposed to be able to separate this shit. It was just sex.

Why couldn’t you keep it like that? What the hell happened to the girl who told herself she wasn’t gonna get emotionally attached? 

Oh! That’s right, she was emotionally attached before this shit even started. You were smarter than this, knew how to act detached.

Why did have to be him? You sat down, staring blankly at your laptop, but your mind was a fucking mess.

Because no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, no matter how much you told yourself that it was just sex—You had a quiz to study for. That was the whole reason you were here in the first place, right? Not to get fucked stupid against a bookshelf by Rafe Cameron.

A frustrated groan slipped past your lips, and you sank further into your chair, rubbing a hand over your face. This was so fucking bad.

You liked him.

You’d always liked him, that was the problem. Maybe he didn’t know how much—maybe he didn’t realize that he already had you wrapped around his finger.

[t3ag3rs]

♡ bakugou headcannons !

i felt like a hopeless romantic today so why not have some random headcannons?

i personally feel like bakugou wouldnt be looking for a relationship because of his ambition to wanna be a hero. so he kinda has that "itll come my way when its time" mentality with dating.

dont hate me but i think bakugou is the type of person to not "fall in love at first sight"

if he does find you interesting though, its because of the sole reasons of either your quirk or your personality. thats it- no other reason.

secretly probably has a thing for thick/curvy/muscular women, you cannot tell me otherwise.

once you two start talking more he'll secretly enjoy the way you yap when it comes to things you like or about something you genuinely cant stand.

i think bakugou wont be the one to make the first move unless like mina or someone tells him that you secretly have a fat crush on him as well.

on the other hand, if you were to confess to him he would try to act as nonchalant as possible but would be embarrassed, happy + his ego would definitely inflate.

once you both go public it is OVER for all the other "extras". bakugou would be showing you off left and right- "hey you see that hottie over there? guess what? shes mine- now look the other way!"

would be lowk scared that his brash personality would make you leave him for someone else, but you would always insist he was all you ever needed and thats all he needed to go back to the cocky bastard you know and love.

is a SUCKER for random compliments and physical touch. you hold his hand on the way out the class? instant butterflies. "your eyes are so pretty suki..!" fuck. he was whipped for you.

bakugou loves it when you massage his back or shoulders after a hard day of training. oh, and when you run your hands through his hair? hes on cloud nine.

loves cooking for you, but leaves the baking to you. he absolutely CANNOT bake for his life. would get too frustrated after having to do the same step multiple times because the recipe called for it and would just end up combining all the steps in one.

wont admit it but he loves when you use him as your walking heater. "bakugou im crampinggggg..." "here..." he says as he places his palm on your stomach as you sigh in content. he cant help but find it adorable when you force yourself on him if he doesnt do it himself.

last but not least... sleeping. hates being the small spoon because it makes him feel unimportant :( will sometimes stay up just to see your cheeks squished on to his chest as you sleep- dont be surprised to see photos of you like that on his phone.

slow mornings with bakugou is so sweet and soft. he would definitely press small kisses to your neck after each compliment he would say about you. only when youre asleep ofc. if you wake up and show even the slightest sign of knowing what he did, he would take a pillow and smack your face with it 100%. all with love though ofc. besides, its not like you didnt know about it for months now.

lol idek if this is good since its my first time but uhhhh lmk what yall think.

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Forever Your Big Brother

Requested: yes

Prompt: Y/n Verstappen is feeling a little left out now that both her older siblings will now have kids and she lashes out a bit

Warnings: arguing

The Verstappen family was gathered in Max’s luxurious Monaco apartment, the view of the sparkling Mediterranean sea gleaming through the expansive windows. Max, his girlfriend Kelly, his younger sister Y/n, and their father Jos were all seated together, enjoying the rare moment of family togetherness. "Alright." Max began, clearing his throat and holding Kelly’s hand tightly. "We have something to tell you all." Y/n perked up, intrigued by her brother's unusual seriousness.

Kelly smiled warmly, her hand resting on her stomach. "We’re having a baby." Jos grinned broadly. "That’s amazing news! Congratulations!" Victoria, who had joined the gathering with her own children in tow, clapped her hands and leaned forward. "Another Verstappen baby on the way! That’s wonderful!"

The room filled with congratulations and cheers, everyone seemed thrilled. Everyone except Y/n, who sat stiffly on the sofa, her smile forced and her hands gripping her knees. "Y/n, you okay?" Max asked, his sharp gaze catching her hesitance. She stood abruptly. "I... I need some air." Without another word, she walked out onto the balcony, leaving a stunned silence behind.

Later that evening, as Kelly rested on the couch, Max paced the living room, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t understand. Why is she acting like this? I thought she’d be happy for us." Kelly, calm as ever, sipped her tea and watched him with an arched brow. "She already apologized to me." Max froze mid-step. "What? When?"

"This afternoon, when you were on the phone with the team. She said she was sorry for how she reacted." Max frowned. "Then why did she act like that in the first place?" Kelly shrugged. "Maybe you should ask her instead of rambling to me."

The next day, Max found Y/n in her small Monaco apartment, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book. She looked up when he knocked on the doorframe. "Hey." He said softly, stepping inside. "Hi." She shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. Max sat down beside her, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Kelly said you apologized to her." Y/n nodded. "Yeah, I did. I was out of line yesterday."

"Then tell me what’s going on?" Max urged. "Why weren’t you happy about the baby?" Y/n sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "It’s not that I’m not happy for you, Max. I am. It’s just-" She trailed off, biting her lip. "I'm scared." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Victoria has her kids, and now you’re having a baby. It feels like everyone’s moving on with their lives, and I’m getting left behind. You and I used to be so close, Max, but now… I’m scared you won’t have time for me anymore."

Max’s heart softened as he listened. He reached out, pulling her into a tight hug. "Y/n, that’s ridiculous. You’re my little sister, and nothing is going to change that. I’ll always have time for you, no matter what."

"But you’ll be busy with the baby." She murmured against his chest. "Sure, I’ll be busy, but that doesn’t mean I’ll forget about you." Max reassured her. "You’re important to me, Y/n. Always." She sniffled, smiling faintly. "Thanks, Max."

"Anytime." He ruffled her hair affectionately.

Later in the year

The Verstappen family gathered once more, this time for Christmas in Monaco. The apartment was filled with laughter, the scent of baked goods, and the joyful chaos of children running around. Y/n sat on the floor, playing with her nephew and niece, her face glowing with happiness. Max watched from the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips. He walked over and plopped down beside her.

"You know-" He teased. "You spend so much time with the kids these days, I’m starting to think you don’t have time for me anymore." Y/n looked up, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Oh, come on, Max. You’re just jealous they like me more than you." Max laughed, shaking his head. "Never. But seriously, I’m glad you’re here. It wouldn’t be Christmas without you."

Y/n smiled, her heart full. "Thanks, Max. And for the record, you’ll always be my big brother—no matter how many kids you have." Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "And you’ll always be my little sister. No one’s ever taking your place."

[otakudragones]

Bakugo Katsuki

As a boyfriend

• He’s the kind of boyfriend who won’t say “I love you,” but will fight the waiter if your order’s wrong. His love language is: acts of service + passive-aggressive violence.

• If he finds out someone made you cry, he’s already taking his gloves off. “WHO WAS IT? WHERE ARE THEY? DO THEY EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE TO ME?”

• Takes care of you without admitting it. If you’re sick: “I don’t need you dying in my house, so take this medicine and sleep in my bed. And don’t move, dumbass.”

• Gets mad if you don’t ask for help. “What the hell am I here for then, huh? You stubborn idiot.”

• He hates PDA, but looks at you like you’re the sun — and then flat-out denies it.

• Jealous? Oh, definitely. “Who was that, huh? Why’d he smile at you?” You: “The Walmart cashier, Katsuki.”

IMAGINE:

You’re at a party with your friends, and Bakugou hasn’t stopped frowning at you from across the room because you’re dancing without him. When you finally walk over, he says, “What, done trying to get attention or what?” But he takes your hand and doesn’t let go the rest of the night.

As a husband

• The wedding is simple, but he bakes the cake himself (with strawberry filling, because it’s your favorite).

• Says he won’t cry. Cries. Gets embarrassed. Gets mad about crying.

• Makes breakfast for you every morning, even if the toast’s a little burnt.

• He never goes to sleep without making sure you’re okay. Sometimes he gets up just to check if you’re still breathing — just in case.

• Talks to you about money, decisions, the future. He doesn’t run from adulthood. He’s the kind of husband who wants to do things right because you give him your all.

• Gets offended if you don’t lean on him. “What’s the point of having me if you’re gonna carry everything yourself, huh?”

IMAGINE:

You’ve got a headache and are lying on the couch. Bakugou covers you with a blanket, dims the lights, sets water on the table. He doesn’t say much — just strokes your hair and murmurs, “Rest, woman…” like he isn’t completely in love.

As a father

• Overprotective dad to the max. He’s freaking out during labor, but the moment he hears that first cry, something in him shifts. “Oh… This is real now.”

• Teaches his kid to defend themselves from kindergarten. Enrolls them in combat classes before soccer.

• But also: sings lullabies in a whisper, like his voice might break the baby if he gets too loud.

• He’s scared of hurting the baby at first, but soon becomes a pro at changing diapers and carrying without fear.

• Does homework, plays, reads bedtime stories (with full-on villain voices), and gets offended if his kid doesn’t draw him with enough muscles.

• His kid’s first “I love you” leaves him speechless for three minutes. Then he just says, “I love you too,” wiping his eyes.

In general, a relationship with Katsuki is…

• Like dating an emotional grenade who learned how to love gently.

• He doesn’t know how to be tender, but he tries. He tries so hard it hurts from how beautiful it is.

• You argue, but never go to bed angry. He always comes back to say: “I don’t care about being right with the world if I’m not right with you.”

• He has anxiety about not being enough, and you are his safe place. He won’t say it, but you see it in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching.

MINI ONE-SHOT: “Only You”

“Why are you with me?” you ask one night, staring at the ceiling while he strokes your back with one hand.

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. He breathes. Hesitates. Then says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world:

—“Because you make me want to be a better person… without even asking me to.”

Then, softer, almost afraid:

—“Because you calm me down, damn it. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

You look at him. And with glossy eyes and a clenched jaw, he just whispers:

—“And if you ever doubt it again, just remember there’s no one else I’d do all of this for… only you.”

Traducción

Como novio

• Es el tipo de novio que no te dice "te amo", pero pelea con el mesero si no trae bien tu orden. Su lenguaje del amor es: servicio + violencia pasiva-agresiva.

• Si se entera de que alguien te hizo llorar, ya está quitándose los guantes. “¿QUIÉN FUE? ¿DÓNDE ESTÁ? ¿TIENE IDEA DE QUIÉN ERES TÚ PARA MÍ?”

• Te cuida sin admitirlo. Si estás enfermo: “no necesito que te mueras en mi casa, así que tómate esta medicina y duerme en mi cama. Y no te muevas, pendeja.”

• Se enoja si no le pides ayuda con algo porque “para eso estoy aquí, ¿no? pinche necia”.

• No le gusta el PDA (afecto en público), pero te mira como si fueras el sol y lo niega rotundamente.

• Es celoso. Tipo: “¿y ese quién era, eh? ¿por qué te sonrió?” Tú: “el de Walmart, Katsuki.”

IMAGINA:

"Estás en una fiesta con tus amigos, y Bakugou no ha dejado de hacerte ceño desde la esquina del cuarto porque estás bailando sin él. Cuando te acercas, te dice: ‘qué, ¿ya te cansaste de llamar la atención o qué?’. Pero se deja tomar de la mano y no te suelta por el resto de la noche."

Como esposo

• Su boda es simple, pero el pastel lo horneó él (con relleno de fresa porque sabe que es tu favorito).

• Te dice que no va a llorar. Llora. Le da pena. Se enoja por haber llorado.

• Cada mañana te prepara desayuno aunque se le queme un poco el pan tostado.

• Nunca se va a dormir sin asegurarse de que tú estés bien. A veces se levanta a revisar si respiras, justo en caso.

• Habla contigo de gastos, decisiones y futuro. No huye de la vida adulta. Es el tipo de esposo que quiere hacer las cosas bien porque lo das todo por él.

• Se ofende si no te apoyas en él. “¿Para qué me tienes si vas a cargar sola todo, ah?”

IMAGINA:

Te duele la cabeza y estás acostada en el sillón. Bakugou te tapa, apaga las luces, te pone agua en la mesa. No dice nada, solo te acaricia el cabello y murmura: "descansa, mujer..."como si no estuviera enamoradísimo.

Como padre

• Es papá gallina nivel Dios. Te ayuda en el parto con un susto épico, pero cuando escucha el primer llanto, su cara cambia por completo. “Ah no....Esto va en serio.”

• Enseña a su hijo a defenderse desde el kínder. Lo inscribe a clases de combate antes que a fútbol.

• Pero también: le canta canciones de cuna a lo bajito, como si su voz pudiera romper al bebé si sube de tono.

• Le da miedo lastimar, pero poco a poco se vuelve experto en cambiar pañales y cargar sin miedo.

• Hace tareas, juega, lee cuentos (con voz de villano incluida), y se ofende si su hijo no lo dibuja con suficiente musculatura.

• El primer "te amo" de su hijo lo deja en silencio 3 minutos. Luego solo dice: “yo también te amo”, mientras se limpia los ojos.

En general, una relación con Katsuki es…

• Como salir con una granada emocional que aprendió a amar con cuidado.

• Él no sabe cómo ser tierno, pero lo intenta. Lo intenta tanto que duele de lo hermoso.

• Discuten, pero nunca se acuestan peleados. Siempre regresa a decirte: “no quiero estar bien con el mundo si no estoy bien contigo.”

• Tiene ansiedad por no ser suficiente, y tú eres su refugio. No lo dice, pero se le nota en cómo te mira cuando cree que no estás viendo.

MINI ONE-SHOT: “Solo tú”

—¿Por qué estás conmigo? —preguntas una noche, mientras ves el techo y él acaricia tu espalda con una sola mano.

Katsuki no responde al instante. Respira. Duda. Luego dice, como si fuera obvio:

—Porque me haces querer ser una mejor persona… sin que me lo pidas.

Y después de un segundo añade, más bajo, casi temeroso:

—Porque me calmas, cabrón. Me haces sentir que no estoy roto.

Lo miras. Y él, con los ojos brillosos y la mandíbula apretada, solo te susurra:

—Y si algún día dudas otra vez, solo recuérdate que no hay nadie más con quien haría todo esto… solo tú.

[revelboo]

Hey, it's me again, Meepers ( ＾ω＾ )

Not any specific request, but as someone who really enjoys reading your stories, that also has been helping getting me through my bad days when I read them, want to tell you how much I appreciate the stories. So I wanted to share the China cabinet I got at a thrift store to put my transformers collection in! So far, it's crowded, and not all of my collection can fit in the cabinet until I can replace the glass shelves. So I can't pose them as I want until later.

Also, my personal favorite

G1 Bumblebee with G1 Optimus

Look at his little pedes!

I really appreciate your work!^^

Have a nice day/night!

Ps: Do you have Kofi?

Awww, look at them all! I love seeing y’all’s figures. Thank you for reading my nonsense! And I do have a kofi

Broken Hearts Pt 4

Optimus Prime x Reader

• Watching you talking with Sari and the other two humans is oddly soothing. Soft chatter and laughter reminding him of home. Of the academy before everything had gone sideways. Just relaxing with friends. And it makes his spark ache even as he needs this so much amid all the worry of a resurgent Decepticon movement. Needs a moment of normalcy. No one arguing or upset. Somehow the humans mellowing out everyone without doing a thing.

• Glancing back up at Optimus, he’s still watching you, but you feel oddly safe. Like he’s watching over you, not studying you. He’s as alien to you as you must be to him, but he’d saved you without a second thought. Risked himself for you when he didn’t have to. Didn’t gain anything from it. And the other two people seem relaxed here, too. Comfortable among these giants. Know a lot of it is Sari. The kid trusts them, isn’t the least bit scared of them and you’re all picking up on that. Standing as Bulkhead’s human starts plotting to get a more proper, modern kitchen set up with the bribe of fresh baked gourmet cookies to Sari to sway the bots into helping, you head outside for some air.

• Standing and following you, he hopes you’re not leaving already, but understands if you are. You must have a home, a life. For a moment he can’t find you, but then he spots movement near the alley, your head tipped up toward the night sky and you glance at him before turning your eyes skyward again. “When I was a kid, my family lived out in the country. We could see the stars at night. Too many lights here, though,” you whisper.

• “I could take you out away from the city. To see the stars,” he offers, rumbling voice soft. And you smile despite yourself. Why is he so kind to you? What’s he getting out of this, because in your experience people are generally only nice when they want something from you. “If you wanted,” he adds. And he’s looking at you, not the sky as he shifts on his peds. “I don’t even know where Cybertron is up there. Isn’t that odd? I should know.” And there’s a longing in his voice as his lips press into a thin line before he looks away.

• “I’d love to ride out through the country with you sometime,” you say and he smiles. Your little face tipped up toward him and he reaches to touch your arm but stops himself. Doesn’t want to frighten you. To overwhelm you. So small, but so trusting and he knows he doesn’t deserve your trust. That you’d only been targeted because of him. “How did you guys end up here?”

• “We were attacked,” he admits, grimacing. “By a threat we thought was long gone, but I swear to you that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and this world.” And he sounds so determined and solemn about it that you believe him. That he’ll fight for you and your home even though he barely knows you. “You’re not prisoners here, you can come and go as you please. But please don’t tell anyone about us.” Understanding that they’re in hiding here and he’s handed you the tools to harm him. To sell him out to the government and trusting you not to. ‘I wouldn’t,’ you assure him and he offers you a servo, smiling when you lay your palm on it like you’ve just given him some immense honor.

Previous

Next

[fluentmoviequoter]

Meet My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!baker!reader

Summary: Street is ready to introduce you to his family. You become fast friends with his SWAT team, but meeting his mother is a difficult challenge. After she tries to scare you away from Street, he faces a tough decision about who he considers family.

Warnings: Karen is Karen, Jim Street is a flirt™️, brief angst, fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Hey, handsome,” you greet before kissing Jim’s cheek.

“Hi,” he responds slowly, his eyes narrowed as he watches you. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?” you ask, blinking innocently.

“Because you met me at the door with a kiss and it smells like cookies in here.”

“I am a baker.”

“And I’m a cop. I can read you, babe.”

“Babe?” you repeat with a smile. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Not until you tell me what you want,” Street stipulates, failing to hide his smile.

“You said you were ready to introduce me to your team. And I accidentally tripled a few trial recipes, so I have a ton of cookies right now.”

“You want to bribe them,” he concludes, nodding.

“Not exactly what I meant, but… yeah.”

“Are you sure? They can be a lot. They’re going to like you, probably more than they like me, but I didn’t say I wanted to introduce you to rush you into anything.”

“You’re not rushing me. I’m ready to meet them. They’re important to you, and I love you.”

“Enough to save some cookies for me?”

“Of course.”

Less than half an hour after arriving at the station, Chris inhales deeply and says, “I love you.”

You smile as Street asks, “Because of the cookies?”

“Really?” Hondo asks you. “Street?”

“I see why he hid you,” Tan says, reaching for another cookie. “We’re going to need the address of your bakery.”

“The cookies aren’t the only reason we like you,” Luca explains. “You’re great for Street.”

“He’s great for me,” you reply. “But I’m glad you like the cookies, too.”

“How’d you meet?” Deacon inquires.

“He stole a cake.”

“I did not steal it,” Street corrects, looking at you as if you just accused him of murder. “I accidentally knocked it out of her window.”

“How do you accidentally knock a cake out of a window?” Hondo asks.

“I’ve asked the same thing almost daily since we started dating and I’ve never gotten a clear answer,” you say.

“Did you start dating after that?” Chris wonders.

“The same day,” Street brags. “I apologized for ruining the cake, and when I saw her, I had to ask her out.”

Hondo looks at you for confirmation, and you shrug. It’s close enough to the truth. Street tried to salvage the cake, offering apology after apology until you laughed. He looked up at you, with cake and frosting up to his elbows, and couldn’t find any more words to say. He finally blurted out a proposal to buy you dinner, and you haven’t looked back since.

“You should come to dinner with us on Friday,” Hondo tells you. “We’re going to a diner that just opened on Wilshire.”

“I’d love to,” you reply. “I’m sorry if I overstepped by just showing up today with no notice.”

“Family can drop by anytime,” Luca assures you.

After you say your farewells and gather the now empty cookie trays, you exchange numbers with Chris and talk to her about some of your shared favorite recipes. Meanwhile, the guys tell Street you’re perfect for him and welcome anytime, whether you’re bearing baked goods or not.

“How long have you been together?” Deacon asks him.

“About a month,” Street answers.

“What does your mom think about the new relationship?” Hondo inquires.

Street looks at you, where you’re laughing with Chris, then admits, “She doesn’t know. I wanted to introduce her to my actual family first.”

Deacon pats Street’s shoulder and encourages him to do what he thinks is best.

“We are your family, kid,” Hondo promises. “And we’re here for you – both of you.”

Street stops outside his door. He begins speaking but doesn’t get past your name before trailing off.

“I know,” you whisper comfortingly. “I’m here for you, Jim. Not your mom. And if she doesn’t like me, that’s okay. At the end of the day, it’s your decision about who you love, not hers. You know that, right?”

“I do. Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Street takes your hand and leads you into his apartment. His mom is living with him temporarily while she gets on her feet again and figures out what exactly she’s going to do for the remainder of her parole – or so she says.

“Jimmy!” she greets warmly. When she sees you, her smile drops.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend,” he introduces. “And this is my mom, Karen Street.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Street,” you greet with a smile, offering your hand.

“You too,” she answers. She then turns to Street, wiping the hand she used to shake yours on her pants, and says, “I couldn’t remember how to use the coffee maker. Could you show me again?”

“I’ll just make you some right now,” he offers before asking if you want anything.

“No, thanks,” you answer softly. Sitting with Karen, you ask how her day is going so far.

“Let’s just skip all the niceties since Jimmy isn’t here,” she interrupts. “You know as well as I do it will never work out. My Jimmy is a cop, he’s handsome, and you’re… a baker? Do you honestly see that working?”

Your smile droops, but you’re unwilling to let Karen Street deter you or scare you away from dating the man who makes you happy.

“We can make it work,” you answer. “I’m sorry that you feel that way.”

“It would be in your best interest to leave,” she snaps.

“Here you go, Mom,” Street says, placing a steaming mug of coffee beside her.

Karen looks between you and Street, then asks, “Could I speak to you alone, Jimmy?”

“Mom,” he begins, shaking his head.

“I actually need to use the restroom,” you offer, standing.

Street nods, points you in the right direction, then takes your previous seat. He brushes his fingers against yours as you pass him and prepares for his mother to be back to her usual antics.

“That girl is not good for you, Jimmy,” she warns. “She’s rude, uncaring, and she told me that I was a bad mother! Can you believe that? She practically admitted to using you for your law enforcement ties and for money.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Street replies, knowing perfectly well that you didn’t say anything rude or about using him.

Karen gets desperate then, unwilling to lose Street because he’s her access to everything. Jim can get her everything she needs and wants, and she will not let you win him over and take him from her.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, not to you,” Karen continues. “She mentioned another man, so I’d bet she’s not loyal. And you, Jimmy, are the most loyal and caring person I’ve ever met. I don’t want to see her hurt you.”

You linger by the door and scroll on your phone in the bathroom. You’re going to give Street and his mom five minutes to talk, you decide. Smiling as you reply to a message from Chris, you don’t concern yourself with hypothesizing what Karen is saying about you. When you do return, Street stands and rises from his seat.

“Did Chris text you too?” he asks. “About coming over to help with the paint?”

“She did,” you reply, following his lead. Chris texted about helping her paint; that wasn't a lie, but she doesn't need help until next weekend. If Street’s taking it as an out, you’ll go with him. You’d go anywhere with him, you think. “It was a pleasure,” you tell Karen. “I made blueberry scones earlier and thought you might like them. They're on the counter.”

“Thank you,” she replies flatly. “Be safe, Jimmy.”

“I’ll be back later, Mom,” he assures her.

As the door closes behind you, Street sighs and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon, homewrecker,” he murmurs.

With a laugh, you ask, “What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I need ice cream.”

“And cookies?”

“So many cookies.”

After arriving at your home, you share a plate of fresh cookies and homemade ice cream with Street. He stays close to you, stealing kisses between cookies, and makes you feel incredibly loved. As always.

“Now that you’ve met the family, what do you think?” he inquires.

“If you and Tan ever get tired of SWAT, you should do standup comedy,” you begin.

As you continue raving about 20-David squad and envisioning yourself staying friends with them for years to come, Street smiles. He knew his team would like you, but he’s glad you’re joining the group as seamlessly as he hoped you would.

“Oh, Deacon texted me yesterday,” you remember. “I’m making Sam a birthday cake.”

“Charge him double,” Street jokes.

“I said Deacon not Hondo.”

“You talk to my friends more than I do.”

“They’re great.”

“But my mom is insane.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up straight. Pulling your leg beneath you, you promise, “I was not going to say that.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a question,” Street assures you, tugging you closer. “You’re not going to see her again unless you really want to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. My mom… My mom isn’t good for me, I’ve known that for a long time. Today, she showed me that she isn’t good for you either, and, if she can’t be supportive of us, I’m done. She’s pulled me in too deep before and I’m not going to let her do it again.”

“She’s your mother, Street.”

“And I’m not risking what I have with you for her manipulative schemes. I think I have to cut that tie before I give her something I can’t get back.”

You nod, frowning sympathetically. You feel uncomfortable giving input on the situation because it’s Street’s decision. As you hug him, he knows exactly what he has to do. His mom was scared of losing him, but she was going to be the one to drive him away.

“Is that why you called me a homewrecker earlier?” you ask against Street’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, she thinks you’re seeing other men. Just using me for my loyalty, good looks, and SWAT money.”

“Please,” you scoff. “That order is way off.”

Street gently pries your arms off of him and shakes his head. “Apparently you also called her a bad mother and if she were a fraction less manipulative and self-serving I’d think she was finally engaging in some reflection.”

“I’m sorry that your relationship is the way it is,” you offer. “But I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

Street looks at the last cookie, and you smile as you nudge him toward it. Someone knocks on your door, and you leave Street’s side to answer it.

“Uh, I think it’s for you,” you murmur as you open the door wider.

Deacon, Hondo, Tan, Chris, and Luca walk into your home and look expectantly at Street.

“She didn’t like her,” he answers with a shrug. “Hondo was right.”

“Say that one more time?” Hondo requests, raising his phone to record it.

“No.”

“It smells good in here,” Luca whispers to you.

“There’s cookies and a cake in the kitchen,” you tell them. “I still can’t get that cake right. The one time I made a passable version, someone knocked it out of my window.”

Street prepares to defend himself, but you whisper, “Luckily for me, I fell in love with him.”

“So,” Hondo begins as he returns from the kitchen. “How’d it go with your mom?”

“As expected,” Street says quickly. He turns to you and says, “I love you, too.”

A few weeks later, you wait at your open door for Street to arrive. His mom is going back to jail for a parole violation, and his entire team came by your bakery today after a stressful day of saving lives and arresting domestic terrorists. Now, you want to provide Street with the comfort he gives you daily.

“I love you,” Street says as he hugs you.

“I love you,” you reply, brushing your hand over his hair. “Come on in, I have something I want to show you.”

Street nods, catches your falling hand, and follows you inside. Sitting on the counter is a cake that looks nearly identical to the one that brought you together.

“I didn’t get to taste the first one, so I need you to let me know if this is a redemption cake.”

Street forces you to take several pictures with the cake before he takes a small bite. His eyes widen, and he nods rapidly.

“It tastes similar, but even better,” he says. “Can we have this at our wedding?”

“Sure,” you answer with a smile.

Street offers you his fork, and you admit it’s a good cake.

“Speaking of our wedding,” you say after taking another bite, “your future groomsmen invited us to dinner at Deacon and Annie’s tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I should introduce you to Annie.”

“We’ve already been texting.”

Street shakes his head and kisses you before reminding you that he loves you. "And the cake," he adds as he pulls back and steals another piece.

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

Forgotten friends

So I read a lot of ancient Y/N cookie stuff because why not and I decided to make my own. Bear in mind that this is a work of pure imagination and judgment will not be tolerated.

Long ago, You were baked along with 5 other cookies, an immense power created within you by the witches. You were all created to the purpose of protecting earthbread and providing guidance to those who resided within it. Knowledge, Volition, Change, Happiness, Solitude and Patience. All created for a great purpose.

Alas, great power always begets corruption. You watched as how your friends will crumbled onto their own strength one by one. You wished you had seen it sooner. Wish you had taken notice of their behavior changing and shifting into corruption. You wish you could've done something sooner. But you couldn't.

You felt... foolish, to put it kindly. All the signs had been there. More cases of injured cookies, more homes being destroyed out of nowhere, the constant plea from the cookies to be protected. But every time you asked who had hurt them, they never replied. You should've realized it sooner. What other cookies had powers strong enough to wipe an entire village out of existence and only leave ashes, flour, jam and crumbs as it's remains?

Regardless of not having seen it sooner, you knew something had to be done. You had to intervene, make them come back to their senses somehow. But every time you got the courage to even walk to their quarters, you never entered. You were scared of what your friends had become, a lot more than you would've liked to admit. Besides, there were five of them and one of you. Even if they haven't crumbled you already, they're still capable of doing it.

With little to no options left you were forced to seek out the help and guidance of the witches. Fortunately for you, they had already come up with a solution. The unfortunate part?

The solution was to seal them away.

You were unsure how to take in this information. Part of you wanted to plead and beg that they find another way. But the other part knew this was the only way to protect earthbread. With a heavy heart you agreed to lure your fallen friends into a trap. Did you like it? No, of course not. They were your friends. But did you have a choice? Also no. It was for the sake of earthbread.

"Are we there yet?" Shadow milk cookie asked, though it came out as more of a whine. You were leading them to the agreed spot where they'd be sealed, having promised them that you wanted to show them something.

"Patience, Milk. We'll be there soon." You said, followed by a soft chuckle. Though you knew that was only to hide your dread. Here you were, leading your friends into a trap, and all you could do was try to divert any suspicion by acting like everything was ok when in reality it wasn't. "We've been walking FOREVER! How far must we go to see this thing?" Burning Spice cookie complained. You had to fight hard to suppress that deep sigh gathering in your lungs. If this experience wasn't already dreadful enough, they had been complaining time and time again how long it was taking and you gradually grew annoyed of them. "Look, not my fault you don't have any wings to just fly there. We all could've been there ages ago if SOMEONE wasn't a wingless pepper, don't attack me!" You retorted. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again you snapped something else.

"And don't even THINK about bringing up Silent Salt cookie. I know he doesn't have wings but at least he ain't complaining!" Though you're not sure if it's cuz he won't or if he can't. Either way, Burning spice cookie let out a grumble of annoyance before keeping quiet.

"Hey can we-" Eternal Sugar cookie let out a long yawn as she stretched out like a cat before snuggling back into her soft pink clouds. "Can we like, take a break or somethin'? We've been walking for ages..."

"Your feet haven't even touched the ground since we left!"

"Mmmh, too much work."

Another deep sigh you forced to not surface out brew up in your lungs again. You hadn't realized what pricks your friends had become. They used to be so nice. Now they're just... Annoying. Though you can't really say you were surprised, seeing as they corrupted in general.

"Applying pressure on Y/N cookie is futile. Our journey will on prove to be more insufferable and longer if we continue to be uncooperative." You heard Mystic flour cookies dull voice say.At least SOMEONE wasn't breathing down you neck. You also couldn't help but realize that the only thing that seemed to be different about her was the fact that her voice held no annoyance in it.

Heck, it practically held no emotion in general. Regardless you found her more tolerable in this moment then the other three. It kind of stung though, knowing she along with the others were following you so willingly to their own demise. But it had to be done.

Finally, you made it to the spot. You told them to stand in specific spots, which they complied with. As you got out of the way, you looked over at them all. You felt your smile falter and your heart began to ache. So you were really doing this, huh? You didn't want this. Not at all. But you had to do this. Once you felt the witches about to begin you let out a shaky sigh.

"Forgive me... I never wanted this..." you said softly, but it was loud enough for all of them to hear. Before they could react you watched five forks come down and imprison your friends, much to your displeasure and their shock. You turned away, unable to watch further. You tuned out their cries for your help. And without looking back, you walked away, your head hung low in shame and pain.

You hid yourself away and watched how the world around you changed. You now concealed your souljam as a pendant on your clothes and you concealed your identity. In fact, you changed it completely. You wondered for many days and night if your forgotten friends would ever forgive you.

Maybe... just maybe... with a lot of patience. Even if they did, nothing anyone said was gonna ever allow you to forgive yourself. Not even the light of patience would allow it.

[starkwlkr]

Ok this is a bit strange but could you do a Ruby fic where she's scared charles and yn are going to get a divorce because she heard them arguing and she's asking uncle pierre what's going to happen

two birthdays | charles leclerc

sorry for the wait!! here’s more baby leclerc <3

Ruby knew what divorce meant. A friend from school had explained it to her one day after she said she had to spend the weekend with her dad. Ruby also knew that her parents would never get a divorce, they were too in love with each other. At least that what she thought.

After coming home from school, Ruby heard her parents’ voice in the kitchen. Pascale had offered to pick up Ruby from school since Y/n had just given birth to Mathéo and Charles was taking care of her. The older woman heard the loud voices and knew that Ruby wasn’t meant to hear that.

“Ruby, ma fille, go up to your room. I’ll come and get you in five minutes.” Pascale instructed.

Ruby always listened to her grand-mère so she did what she was told. She hesitated a bit, but she made her way up the stairs and towards her bedroom. She had never seen or heard her parents fight so she was extremely confused. Was her family going to end up like her friend’s family?

“It’s kinda cool because I get two of everything. I get two birthdays so that means I get more presents!”

But Ruby didn’t want two birthdays. She didn’t care if two birthdays meant having more presents. Ruby would rather have no presents.

Exactly five minutes later, Pascale arrived to Ruby’s room. “Guess what?” The woman tried to put on a smile. “You get to stay with me tonight. We can bake cookies, watch Barbie the mermaid one, you love that movie, don’t you?”

Ruby nodded. “Why can’t we watch it here? Papa and maman love it too.”

Pascale sighed. “Your maman needs rest and your papa has work to do. Remember his race is coming up so he has to focus on winning.”

Ruby nodded once more. She didn’t question her grand-mère again so she just began to pack a bag.

It was summer break for Ruby and for some ��unknown’ reason (to her) she was on her fourth plane flying to a new location. Each night she would ask Charles to call her maman so she could say goodnight. When she handed the phone back to Charles, she fully expected him to say goodnight as well but he would always end the call.

Silverstone was coming up. Ruby wasn’t sure if her maman and Théo were coming. She wanted them to come since she hadn’t seen them in a while, but it was confirmed by Charles that they were still in Monaco.

When the father and daughter arrived to the paddock, Ruby saw that Kika and Pierre had also arrived. “Papa, Uncle Pierre and Aunt Kika are here too.” Ruby pointed out.

Charles nodded.

Ruby had asked Charles if it was okay if she spent the day with Kika since her maman was home and she knew Charles was going to be busy for a while. Kika happily accepted having Ruby by her side so together the two girls made their way to the Alpine garage.

Kika noticed how quiet the little girl was being. Usually Ruby would run around and talk nonstop, but now she was basically silent the whole time. “What’s wrong, Ruby Jules? Are you cold? I think Uncle Pierre has a jacket you can wear.”

“I’m not cold, Aunt Kika. I’m sad.” Ruby replied as she held Kika’s hand.

“Why? What made you sad?” Kika asked.

“Maman and papa were fighting. Now they don’t talk to each other and I miss my maman.” Ruby said in a low voice.

Kika tried her best to comfort the girl as they arrived to the Alpine garage. She immediately called for Pierre.

“What’s going on? Why are you sad, bébé?” Pierre picked up Ruby in his arms.

“She heard Charles and Y/n arguing.” Kika informed him.

“I don’t want two birthdays.” Ruby admitted.

“What do you mean?” Pierre was confused by what she meant.

“My friend from school said she gets two of everything because her papa and maman are divorced. I know what that means. Papa and maman are going to divorce.” Ruby began to tear up.

“Mon chéri, your papa and maman love each other so much. Sometimes adults argue but your parents are too in love to divorce.” Pierre tried to explain.

“Do you and Aunt Kika argue? Are you getting a divorce?” Ruby wondered.

“Well we have to get married first.” Pierre lightly chuckled.

“When are you getting married?”

“You are very curious today, Ruby Jules.”

[ageingfangirl2]

Hazbin Hotel x Child Reader Series

PART 2 - THEY FIND OUT HOW YOU WERE KILLED

ONE THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE

You were sitting on the sofa while Angel messed around with your hair when Angel asked your name and how you ended up here.

‘My name is y/n. The police killed me on earth before they took my mummy and daddy away,’ you answer, voice sad at the recent memory, ‘I saw red on my nightgown, and when I woke up, I was in front of the hotel.’

ANGEL DUST

Angel, usually loud and playful, goes very quiet when you tell him your story, slowly removing his hands from your hair. For a moment, he just stares at you, his usual smirk gone. Then he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face, ‘Yeah, kid…I get it…’

He doesn’t pry, doesn’t push. But after a moment, he pulls you into a loose hug, resting his chin on top of your head, ‘that’s some messed up shit. You deserved better.’

Then, in true Angel fashion, he tries to lighten the mood in the room, ‘Tell ya what, stick with me and we’ll make hell way more fun than earth ever was.’

You nod and kiss him on the cheek, ‘thank you.’

Angel would never admit to having a soft spot for kids, but you he could see himself warming up to and vowed to himself to make your life in hell memorable.

NIFFTY

Niffty, who had come back to clean the coffee table Angel had covered in junk, pauses mid-cleaning, tilting her head, ‘Wait, wait, wait, but you’re a kid. Why would they? That doesn’t–’

Her expression twists into frustration. She’s hyper, yes, but she’s not dumb. Even she can tell how messed up this whole situation is. Then, her tiny hands grip yours, ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now! You’re here, and I’m going to make sure you have lots of fun. Wanna help me clean the kitchen? OOH, we can bake cookies!’

Niffty doesn’t understand it completely, but she does know one thing: if you are sad, she’s going to do everything within her power to make sure you are distracted and not sad.

You get off the sofa and hug her, ‘thank you. I’ll come to you when I need a distraction or two.’

HUSK

Husk, who’d been stood by the bar cleaning glasses sighs, ‘yeah. That tracks.’

Unlike the others, he doesn’t look shocked, just tired. He’d seen this all before. Corruption, cruelty, senseless violence. It never ends in hell or even on earth.

He pours himself another drink and downs it, before pulling a soda from the fridge and walks over to you, ‘shitty way to go kid. Worlds got a habit of chewing up the small ones first.’

He doesn’t say much else as he hands you the soda, but if you choose in the future to stick close to him, he wouldn’t push you away. At one point, he grumbles, ‘I guess you can stay at the bar. Just don’t touch anything.’

You nod and open the drink, taking a sip, not quite realising just how thirsty you are after everything.

VAGGIE

Vaggie stood a bit away next to Charlie, but the look in her eye and on her face was fury. Her hands clench into fists, her single eye narrowing in a sharp glare - though not at you. At the injustice of it all.

‘They killed a child and just got away with it?’ She spat, ‘and your parents–’

She stops herself before she can scare you with her anger, taking a deep breath instead. Then she crouches down in front of you, her voice and demeanor a little softer, ‘listen to me. That wasn't your fault. Not a single bit. You hear me?’

you gulp and look at her with uncertainty in your eyes, Vaggie pats you on the shoulder, ‘I mean it. Hell is full of people who deserve to be here, but you aren't one of them, kid.’

You chew your lip, ‘Okay, if you say so, Vaggie.’

CHARLIE

Charlie's face crumples the moment you tell your tragic story. You're a child. You shouldn't even be in hell. Her eyes well up with tears, and she immediately kneels beside you, her hands hovering over your shoulders like she wants to hug you but doesn't know if it's an appropriate time. 

‘No…no, that's not fair!’ She sniffles, ‘I'm so sorry. I-I wish I could fix it, I wish I could send you back to be with your parents.’

Charlie's voice shakes, and for the first time in a very long time, her endless optimism falters. Because no matter how much she wants to believe in redemption, how does she make this right for you?

You put the can of soda down on the coffee table and pat Charlie on the hand, ‘don't be upset Charlie, I prefer you smiling.’

Charlie awes and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, ‘then I'll keep smiling for you, kid.’

ALASTOR

Alastor had been listening and watching quietly. His ever-present smile froze just a little at the edges. For a moment, there's no laughter, no cheerful banter, just a cold, calculating silence.

Then he chuckles, ‘Ahh, the mortal world never ceases to amuse me. She predictable cruelty.’

His grin widens, but his eyes stay sharp, the wheels turning in his head as he tries to connect all the dots as to how a supposed innocent child who should have gone to heaven after death ended up in hell. You couldn't be fully innocent.

‘And I wonder…how does this all make you feel, dear child? Does it fill you with anger?’

You bite your lip and nod your head slowly, and he leans in more, ‘good. Hold onto that anger.’

‘Alastor! Stop it!’ Charlie snaps.

Alastor simply shrugged, ‘What? I’m simply encouraging a bit of self-awareness.’ he winks at you, ‘After all, why should a little thing like morality hold you back when the world never played fair with you?’

‘ALASTOR!’ Vaggie growls.

Alastor grinned and stood back up, ‘Why would the police come and take their parents away if they hadn't done something bad? I bet the kid knows why, so they should come clean.’

You look down at your bare feet, knowing Alastor was right. You didn't want any of your new friends to judge and kick you out of the hotel, leaving you all alone again.

[tealvenetianmask]

How Blitz and Stolas figure out how they feel: external vs. internal processing

I've been in therapy a ton (feeling like I'm not alone in that in this fandom), and one of the things I've learned from it is that I like to process my thoughts and feelings externally- by talking about them. It turns out not everyone is like that. I'm like Blitz in this way.

I first got on this topic when I was thinking about how Blitz flip flops in Apology Tour. When he goes to see Stolas at the beginning of the episode, he goes in with an idea he's trying out- a narrative he's committed to FOR NOW, insisting that he's there to reinstate the full moon deal with TONS of undue and shaky confidence.

Is this plan something he's actually confident in? Absolutely not. But he's going to commit to it damnit and see how it plays out. Does he believe it? I think he does in the moment. He's convinced himself anyway, and when Stolas wears him down and he understands that he's not doing himself any favors . . .

He starts processing the real shit aloud.

I don't think Blitz has ever admitted this to himself, at least not this articulately and accurately. He needs to say it aloud in order for it to be real. Oops too real.

He's SCARED because he didn't even KNOW he felt this way, but things are becoming very clear and dangerously close to the heart of the matter . . . so he pivots again back into comfortable territory (conflict).

By the end of the conversation, he arrives at a new mission, one that's sort of an equilibrium between his realizations about his honest feelings and his need to have a mission he feels confident in. He's not all confident or all honest- he's still in flux.

There are SO many more examples of Blitz realizing how he feels BY TALKING (later in Apology Tour when he's talking to Stolas, and then when he's talking to Verosika . . . but then also back in Oops, etc.), but I'm going to leave it at one for brevity here. What's important is that we NEVER see Blitz processing alone. Even in his part of the duet (more on songs in a sec), when he's technically singing to himself, he's consoling himself with a narrative rather than really processing the things that need to be processed.

Blitz needs a person to process with.

But Stolas is an internal processor. We know this already because he made the plan to give Blitz the Asmodean crystal and sat on it for literal months, procuring the crystal, ironing out what he would say, trying to initiate conversations with Blitz, but never explaining how he felt to anyone before it was time- and absolutely NEVER in a way that was half baked.

The way Stolas sings his feelings actually gives us a really clear and beautiful picture of how he processes and figures things out. I forget who said it, but someone on the Helluva creative team referenced a broadway truism that in a musical, characters sing what they can't speak. I think for Stolas it's often what he can't YET speak because he's still processing. He has full honest conversations with himself (Stolas Sings, Just Look My Way), and then when he's face to face with Blitz, he knows exactly what he wants to say. His feelings and beliefs actually progress from song to song- he expresses his awareness of a problem in Stolas Sings and gets more precise about how he feels and what he needs to do about it in Just Look My Way.

By The Full Moon, for better or worse (kind of both), Stolas knows exactly what he wants to say to Blitz and how he wants to say it.

Even when he's upset, angry, and then drunk, when Stolas speaks about his feelings, he's consistent. He's decided. He loves Blitz. He wants a real relationship. From his point of view, he doesn't care about social class, so he can't understand why Blitz is so stuck on it.

But he's missing something key (it's the social class thing- it's definitely the social class thing), and internally, he's cooking, and we see that (again) when he sings.

This is the rawest and most in flux stage of his thought process that we've seen. Because this is how he figures out what he thinks and feels- with himself, in song.

Okay- so interesting psychoanalysis- why does this matter to the story?

Well, I think that Stolas doesn't understand that when Blitz speaks in these super emotional, fraught conversations, he doesn't go in knowing what he thinks and feels. He's figuring it out on the fly. He's figuring it out BY talking, and needs to be allowed to do that. Should he do this with a therapist instead of with the person most likely to be hurt by the ideas he flies through on his way to his true feelings? For sure, but this is Blitz.

In turn, Blitz doesn't understand that when Stolas acts absolutely certain and doesn't seem to take in the things Blitz is saying, he's not talking to a brick wall. He's talking to a moveable person who, once he's alone (or singing) is going over and over everything and breaking his thoughts down and reformulating until he arrives at something new.

So . . . it might be a little much to ask these two to understand each other's different processing styles- but they're coming along in their own ways. And I'm looking forward to them understanding each other. Someday. Maybe. Fucking sit down and talk. Slowly. AGH.

[inkdrinkerworld]

a spider!reader who gives off “sweet girl next door” vibes? she tries to bring miguel cookies with he’s working on something and he scares her, coming off more angry than intended, and ends up dropping them on the floor. (collect groan lmao)

contains minor spoilers to across the spider-verse pt 2

you’d been thinking all day after the whole fiasco of recruiting gwen that miguel needed cheering up.

margo warned you not to, said, ‘he’s a grump. let him grump.’

but you hadn’t been able to take that answer. there was something about miguel that didn’t just scream grump. something seemed tired about him.

so, you tried your hand at baking him something. you’d debated for a long time of chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal cookies were more his style.

you decided on chocolate chip.

you spent two days on them, using a recipe which required brown butter, overnight chilling and a lot of dark chocolate.

you got a lot of flour on you as you baked them, watching them rise and then spread out on the floor of the kitchen.

when they were done you packed them up in a cute purple box you snagged from the cafeteria.

your heart leapt to your throat as you turned down the corner to HQ, hoping that you wouldn’t catch miguel at a bad time.

that hope is decimated when you walk in and find him grumbling to his computer.

“um, miguel?” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stand in the archway.

“what? what do you need?” he huffs and you feel some of your momentum dry up.

“i brought something for you, but if you’re busy-“ it appears that was the wrong thing to say.

“of course i’m busy! i’m always busy trying to keep the stupid multi-verse from collapsing. maybe some other time we can chit chat.”

you’d never actually been on the receiving end of miguel’s upset, and maybe this wasn’t exactly for you but his tone and the way his arms are flailing around his body makes you feel small in a way that hasn’t happened for a long time.

“right,” you whisper, managing not to cry as you jolt and the box of cookies fall. “i’m sorry for bothering you.”

miguel watches as you don’t even bend to pick up the box. he watches you turn like you’re being remote controlled and he catches sight of your hands wiping at your eyes.

“great, you’ve made her cry casanova.” lyla appears suddenly, foot tapping in air as her arms cross over her chest.

“so now i’m the bad guy?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical. he feels like the bad guy. guilt and shame burn his throat and belly like he’s downed two tequila shots with no lime or salt.

lyla flits to the box, “she made you cookies.”

miguel sighs, hands scrubbing at his face as he steps off the platform to pick up the box. in your neat cursive he notices you’ve written, ‘a pick me from having to do all the hard stuff.’

he wants to smash something. of course he’d blow up at possibly the nicest spider-woman variant. of course he’d be the asshole to make you cry too.

“where is she?” he asks lyla as he sets the box on the desk and opens it to find the cookies all broken. they smell delicious - something close to that bakery you liked when you’d visited earth-2067 with him on a scouting mission.

you and miguel always make a great team on missions and he hates to admit it but he’s very fond of you and he knows you're fond of him too.

it’s why his chest is aching and he needs to find you. “lyla, where is she?”

“in her room, blasting music and cleaning. give the girl a moment alone before you barge in there and make it worse.”

[stanzo75]

hogsmeade date?<3

Storyline: George wants to ask y/n on a date to hogsmeade but is scared of rejection.

Background: y/n is in ron’s year, best friends with fred and george through ron. George has a HUGE crush on them, y/n likes him back but is better at containing it.

pairing: George Weasley x reader

(my requests are always open 🫶)

You are sitting in the common room with Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville, all talking about weekend plans. It was Ron who brought up the topic, asking everyone what they planned to do at hogsmeade. You hadn't gotten the chance to speak yet, everyone addin in their plans one by one. Harry was lucky enough to get Fred to agree to sneaking him in again, and you wondered why he said just Fred and not George as well. Usually those two did everything together, you would know, if they're not off causing trouble they're always at your side. Maybe George had something to do that day? You felt a pang of disappointment, you had wanted to ask him to accompany you during the trip. You pushed the confusion and disappointment down as you listened to everyone else speak. Hermione was going with Ginny to J. Pippin's potions shop with Ginny to restock on supplies for Snape's class and work out where to stop as they went. Ron was going to Zonko’s and honeydukes with Harry, once Harry arrived. Neville was insistent on making a strict schedule so he could visit The Magic Neep, Dogweed and Deathcap, Brood and Peck, while still leaving room to spend the rest of his time at Honeydukes. It was quite interesting to listen to Neville talk about those shops, you'd never cared much for plants or beasts but you admired Neville's interest in the subjects. Suddenly ron piped in, turning to you,

“What do you plan on doing?”

You had not yet realized you didn't know what to do anymore without George, and you didn't want to intrude on anyone else’s plans.

“I think i'll just sit at the three broomsticks” you reply quietly.

Surprisingly, Ron looks pleased and nods, quickly changing the topic. 

Feeling left out, eventually you just get up to go roam the halls. As you're walking past the kitchens, Fred and George pop out, looking pleased. George seems to light up when he sees you, making his way over to you with a smile, Fred follows behind as he stuffs baked goods into his pockets.

“Hello gorgeous, what are you doing out here? Ron told me you'd be up in the common room with them.” he asks.

You don't want to admit the real reason you left so you reply with,

 “It was getting too stuffy in there, I needed fresh air.”

Fred suddenly speaks up,

“I'm going off to see angelina!! George dont forget what we talked about”

You watch as fred moves a painting nearby and dips into the passageway behind it, it was the first secret passage george had ever shown you. You turn to George with a puzzled look.

“What is he talking about?”

George looks flustered for a moment before composing himself.

“It's nothing! I mean, its something stupid, nothing important”

He looks as if he's holding something back, but you don't pry.

“Want to uh, head up to my dorm with me? I've got new charms to try” he asks, looking hopeful.

You smile and nod, always happy to spend time with George, especially when he’s showing off new flashy charms he learned. As you enter the common room, your friends are all still chatting. When Ron spots the two of you he shoots George a questioning glance, and George shakes his head back. Ron groans and turns back to his conversation. That was weird, why are both ron AND fred being strange? Was George planning some extraordinary prank? Without you knowing? George awkwardly shrugs it off and gently grabs your hand to lead you away to his dorm. His hand felt so natural in yours, you're not even sure if he meant to do it. As you arrive in his dorm, you flop down on his bed, propping your head up with your hands to watch him. 

“Why are Ron and Fred acting so weird?” you blurt out, curiosity taking over. He looks stunned for a moment, as if trying to come up with a believable response. 

“Don't lie to me George,” you say sternly, noticing his brain working to fabricate a story, “does it have something to do with the trip to hogsmeade?” 

It felt sort of stalkerish to ask that, but it had been picking at your mind ever since you learned of it. 

He goes a deep shade of red, you couldn't tell if it was blush or anger, probably both.

“Which one of them told you?” he sounds a mixture of nervousness and anger, maybe a bit of sadness? You couldn't exactly tell. 

“Tell me what?” you ask, clearly this was deeper than you thought. What did their secrecy have to do with you? 

He hesitates for a moment, before asking “you actually don't know?”

“ know WHAT george? All I know is that Ron and Fred are being weird, and that Fred is helping Harry into Hogsmeade but for some reason you aren't this time. It just sounds to me like you are planning something  stupid you don't want me to know about. What kind of prank are you planning george?” you say, watching him intensely.

He processes your words for a moment before sighing in relief, only for his shoulders to tense back up when he realizes he has to explain to you.

He walks over to the bed, sitting beside you as you sit up as well to face him.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you on a date to Hogsmeade and they've been pestering me about it ever since I mentioned it, but i havent had the courage to actually ask you. I understand if you say no, you're probably already busy with your friends anyways. I just thought it'd be easier to not ask rather than be rejected.” he says quietly, “just promise me this won't ruin our friendship, i can't lose you”

You sit still for a moment. Is this real? Is it finally happening?

He takes your silence as a no, and looks absolutely heartbroken, you can see his jaw clenching in an attempt not to cry.

“George,” you say softly, and he looks back at you, he looks as if he's preparing himself for bad news, “you should've asked me, i'd love to go with you”

His face lights up, his stress evidently melting away, “you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it! I wasn't even going with any friends, i was going to sit alone at the three broomsticks because i had been hoping you'd be there, but then i heard you weren't going with fred and i assumed you were going with someone else, or that you just didn't want to go” you explain. He smiles softly, “you know i'd never abandon you for someone else” he says, moving closer to you to look you in the eyes. You feel a warm surge spread through your body, completely endorsed in the smile on his face. You lean in instinctively, and in return you feel his lips pressing against yours, his hands moving to your hips. You kiss him for a few moments, but it feels like forever, you can feel your heart beating so hard it might explode, kissing him felt like fireworks. When the kiss is finally broken, he pulls away looking mesmerized, his cheeks turned a light red. 

“I choose the shops we go into though” you say jokingly,

He chuckles and responds, “whatever you want, love”

[prettiestgrlinthemorguexo]

fic where baker reader and lucifer both really like each other but are too scared to admit their feelings so reader makes him a cupcake with a frosting duck on top as a surprise

Sweet duckcakes ( Lucifer Morningstar x Baker! Reader)

Thank you for the request anonymous! This is such a cute idea myself!!! Feel free to leave more request

Idk why but I feel like Lucifer would love the duck cake from Bluey.

I legit accidentally deleted this half way through writing it, I could cry

NOT PROOF READ!!

Warnings: stealing my baker reader stuff on how they started working in the hotel from my last fic, season 2 headcanon

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

No ones POV:

Y/N has been working in the Hazbin hotel since day one, only then it was called ‘Happy Hotel’ Charlie employed them to be the head chef, prepare meals of staff and residents. It also meant Y/N could stay rent free so they accepted. Only then, back when it was only them, Charlie, Vaggie and the only resident, Angel dust. But as time has past, the Hotel has become more lively. Alastor, Husk and Nifty join the staff and another resident named Sir Pentious.

Even though Y/N was happy to see Charlie’s dreamed come true, but with each new person in the hotel mean more and more food to make, they were almost nearly in the kitchen all the time but they didn’t mind.

With the extermination looming closer, Charlie had no choice but to call her dad for help. Y/N was happy to know he accepted to come, To prepare for his visit Charlie asked Y/N to bake for his visit, which they happily did. They quickly run into the kitchen with Nifty following behind, she wanted to make cookies. Y/N and Nifty baked away, while nifty worked on cookies, Y/N chose cupcakes!

Nifty finshed first and ran into the main room while they stay behind so they could decorate the cupcakes. After 30 minutes they were done and they took them to the main room. As they turned the corner they see a rather weird sight…Alastor and Lucifer is a battle on who’s the better father. Y/N kinda stood there watching the two with everyone else till they were interrupted by someone named Mimsy, this finally allowed them to meet Lucifer.

“Dad, this Y/N, our head chef!” Charlie moves her dad over to them and they give a sweet smile to him. “It’s nice to finally meet you your majesty.”, as they said this they moved their tray to one hand and extended their now free hand, they took notice of Lucifer’s small blush. He took your hand, Y/N couldn’t help but notice his soft hands, “please call me Lucifer.” He said to you with a smile. “Why thank you..” they said to him as they remembered the treats. “Oh!” They said mainly to themself, they hold out the tray. “Please take one I made these for your visit.”

Lucifer took the treat in his hand looking over it, it had red frosting with a little apple slice in it. “Why thank you.” Lucifer said as he took one of the frosted treat and took a bite of it. He eyes life up as he tasted it. “This is amazing!” He said as he ate, Y/N couldn’t help but feel their heart race as this words. “They’re’s a reason they are the head chef! Now to the rest of the hotel,” Charlie continued to speak and show off the hotel. Y/N place the tray down on the nearby table and as they turn they couldn’t help but notice his eyes on them, they blushed and felt their own heart race.

Little did they know that was only the beginning. After his eventful visit, where him and Charlie both agreed to make an effort, he was in the hotel more. While he spent time with his daughter he always saw Y/N, he was great company to have, always so sweet. It was hard to admit they had growing feeling for him, how could they? He was her bosses father and the king of hell.

It only became worst after the hotel was destroyed and was rebuilt, during the process of rebuilding it, Lucifer moved in. Though Y/N believed it would be a blessing in disguise. You guys were frequently hanging out together, he was always so sweet, he loved to help cook and back with you. Y/N was very thankful for that considering how many more people were not in the hotel, but, this only has their feeling grow more…both their feelings. Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn’t like Y/N they were a dove…the light in the dark.

There were many nights they work yourself too hard and feel alseep in the kitchen only to wake up on one of the couches with a blanket they recognized…it belong to Lucifer. Each time they wanted to keep it, it smelled just like him, but, each time they returned it. They leave it folded with a nice little note. Lucifer loved the notes keeping them in a box, he also sleeps with each blanket, he smell of your are your perfume is intoxicating.

Though pretty much everyone was aware of both their feelings for each other neither would admit it, so in fashion of the residents of the hotel, they decided to help by dropping small (rather obvious) hints, though Charlie was the most discreet about her hints, mainly at hinting at things to you both like, similar interests you things both like. One thing Y/N took of something from Charlie’s and from Lucifer himself…he seem to really love ducks, from gifting them rubber ducks and leaving rubber ducks around the hotel.

One night after making up on the couch with a certain blanket on them, they had to thank him and a perfect idea came into their head. They Return the blanket back with another note, Y/N quickly made their way into the kitchen, ready to bake their morning away for Lucifer’s surprise.

TIME SKIP

Lucifer woke up to the sound of soft knocking, he recognized this knock, it was Y/N’s. He quickly shot up out of his bed running to the door. He nearly swung open the door to see your face, what a perfect thing to make up to, “good morning do-“ Lucifer stopped mid sentence noticing a gray with a cover in their hands, he looked back up at their E/C eyes. “What’s that?” He asked curiously. Y/N could help but smile he looked so handsome after waking up. (He wears duckie pajamas.) “may I come in?” Y/N asked happily, Lucifer blushed softly and nodded his head moving out of the way of the door “o-of course come in!”

Y/N walked in admiring his room, it was so elegant looking, they then turned to face him “I want to say thank you for always taking care of me, not leaving me to sleep in the kitchen floor means a lot to me, so, I want to say thank you.” They said as they placed the tray down on the dresser. “And I know you love ducks so..” Y/N them wiped off the cover revealing 6 cupcakes! Not just any cupcakes, they were Vanilla cupcakes with yellow frosting and on top were little ducks made of frosting. Lucifer looked wides eyed at them, before look at their smiling face. “You made these for me?” He asked softly.

“Of course!” They said happily, you’ve always helped me out and you mean a lot to me..” Lucifer stay quiet before quickly hugging them tight. “Thank you Y/N..” he said softly, the hug caught Y/N by surprise but they quickly hugged back a soft blush on their face. “Anything for you..”

Tag list

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Of toppings and fillings

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Dessert

Rated: M

Tags: Established relationship; Idiots in love; Competitive idiots, to be more specific; Sexually explicit language; Sexual innuendo; Eddie is a little shit

It starts out innocently enough. Steve is lounging on the couch, Eddie sprawled on top of him. On the television, some home-making show is running, but Steve has dropped into a pleasant doze and isn't really paying attention. 

Until Eddie says, “Man, I could go for some of that right now.” 

Steve blinks at the screen.

“And there it is,” chirps the host. “Crispy meringue with that juicy filling underneath, which is the perfect mix of sweet and tart. With this delicious dessert, your family will-” 

Steve huffs. “It probably isn't half as good as my nonna's recipe. Her pies were the best.”

“Hah!” Eddie exclaims, propping himself up and ignoring the pained groan when his elbows dig into Steve’s ribs. “That only shows you never tried my granny’s baking.”

“Ugh, get off me,” Steve wheezes. He tries to shove Eddie away, only he’ll have none of it, and within seconds, things escalate into a full-on wrestling match. “Are you trying to insult my nonna’s baking?” 

“My granny’s baking,” Eddie purrs, pinning Steve’s wrists over his head. His breath fans over Steve's face, soft and warm. “Would fuck your nonna’s baking against the kitchen counter like a little bitch, and your nonna’s baking would enjoy it.” 

Steve sputters. Eddie smirks. 

Steve feels his teeth grit. 

“Oh yeah?” Prove it, Munson.” 

*

“Okay,” says Robin. “Walk me through this again. He shit-talked your nonna, so you made a bet on whose recipe was better? You’re supposed to whisk it, dingus.” 

Steve groans. His wrist is hurting. There’s dough stuck in his hair. “Yes, Robin, for the fifth time. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“Why is it so hard to understand the difference between whisking and stirring?” she snaps, making to snatch the bowl from his hands.

“Hey,” Dustin bellows. He’s standing next to Eddie, who is furiously attacking his own bowl with the hand mixer, bits of filling spraying in all directions. “No cheating, he’s supposed to do it alone.”

“Cut him some slack, Henderson,” Eddie says, tossing a grin in Steve’s direction. “It’s hard, getting a proper filling all on your own.” 

Robin slouches back against the counter, hiding her scowl behind nonna’s cookbook.

“It seems a bit excessive is all I'm saying. You could’ve bet for money, like normal people? How am I ever supposed to eat anything from your kitchen again, knowing that you’ve been on your knees in here, scrubbing dough off the floor, clad in nothing but a frilly apron, have you thought about that? It’s unhygienic, Steve!” 

“Jesus, shut up,” Steve hisses, throwing a frantic look at Dustin. Luckily, he’s busy shouting at Eddie about tempering the eggs, whatever that means. “And for the record, I’m not losing this. I’ve been cooking for myself since I was ten years old, while Eddie … I’ve seen him burn SphaghettiOs, Rob. There’s no way!” 

“Cooking is different from baking, though,” she says. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Say, is it supposed to look like scrambled eggs?” 

“Whoops,” Eddie says, knocking a bag of flour off the counter with his elbow. “Leave it, Henderson. I’m sure Steve won’t mind cleaning it up later.” 

Steve growls, throwing his whisk down so hard it bounces off the counter and hits the nearest wall.

“C’mon, let’s get this thing in the oven.” 

*

“Esteemed jury,” Eddie declares, setting his pie down next to Steve’s. “This is it, the moment of truth. Two pies have entered into this contest, but only one shall emerge victorious, forever determining who-” 

“Quit it,” Steve says. “Or are you scared to admit defeat? Your topping is as flat as your ass.”

He nods down at their creations. The perfect golden tufts of meringue crowning his own, and the unimpressive, brown crust on Eddie’s.

Eddie grins. “Why don’t you leave your verdict on my topping skills for later, big boy?” 

The kids, who’ve been following the exchange with swiveling heads, frown. 

“Are you still talking about pie?” El asks. “It doesn’t seem like you’re still talking about-”

Robin sighs. “Just cut them and get this over with.” 

Steve nods, grabbing one of the knives from her hand while Eddie takes the second. 

“Look at this and weep, Munson,” he says, cutting a slice and lifting it out of the pan for everyone to see. “Perfect, homemade lemon meringue pie. Crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, just as it should-” 

The topping slides off. A chorus of ooofs goes through the spectators.

“Erm, that’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m sure it still tastes fine, it's just-” 

The filling dissolves into a puddle. It lands next to the soggy pile of topping with a wet squelch. The ooofs turn into eeews. Robin cringes. 

“Yeah, no offense, dingus, but I’m not eating that. Gives me icky mouth feels just looking at it.” 

It’s Will’s voice that makes them both turn around.

“Oh, wow! That looks delicious, Eddie!” 

“Thank you,” Eddie says as the kids scramble to hold their plates out to him. With a large smile in Steve’s direction, he hands a particularly large slice to Will. A perfectly shaped slice of bright yellow pie with a beautiful, firm topping of meringue on top. It’s snowy white under the brown crust. 

Steve drops the knife. 

“But I don’t- …” he mutters, sinking down into a chair with wobbly legs. “How did you- … You don’t even know how to cook!” 

“I don’t,” Eddie smiles indulgently, sliding him a plate. “But I’ve been watching my granny bake since I was tall enough to peep over the counter.”

He presses a fork into Steve’s hand and a kiss to his cheek, patting his shoulder as he saunters off towards the kitchen. 

“Enjoy your pie, sweetheart. I’ll get the cleaning supplies from the closet. The apron, too.” 

Steve gulps around his first bite of pie. 

More holiday drabbles

Looks like his nonna’s baking isn't the only thing that's gonna get fucked.

[nerdyjournals]

Sweet Sugar

ship: skz x diabetic!reader

Note: i, myself, am a type 2 diabetic. So a lot of these things come from my experience.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF INJECTIONS AND NEEDLES

Hyung Line. Maknae Line.

Han

Man does not know how to react when he sees you munching on a chocolate bar. His first instinct is to smack it out of your hand and across the room

You look up to him, confused and awaiting an explanation. "I thought you can't have sugar."

He watches as you pull out your insulin pump and show him your low number. You say that it's a quick spike or a hospital visit, and you'd really prefer to stay as far from the hospital as possible.

This boy literally pulls out a pen and a notepad, sits in front of you, and goes "tell me more."

He now carries mints and other small candies in his pockets, regardless of what he's doing, as a precaution. The idea of you in a hospital scares him.

Felix

Poor boy really didn't understand why you weren't trying his latest batch. You had always snuck in during prep time, but the place was too quiet

He found you sleeping on the couch, chin tucked against your chest, almost like you hadn't intended to sleep....which you didn't. His heart sank so fast when you didn't wake up with his words and touch.

His eyes caught your phone and he remembered the app you shared. Pulling out his phone, he urged it to hurry before it displayed a big 62. You had never been that low before. You must have been saving your spike for the sweets.

You woke to a straw being pushed between your lips and worried eyes looking down at you. Immediately understanding, you sipped away as Felix pulled you to a more comfortable position. He held you close and sighed as your numbers slowly crawled up.

Seungmin

He may never show it, but he cared a lot about you. When you admitted your condition, he spent hours upon days researching as much as he could to learn.

You went to the grocery store together once and he observed all the items you picked up and put down, taking note of what they were and the sugar count. He found friendly alternatives and had them delivered to his dorm.

It was these small acts that had you realizing that Seungmin had this special kind of love language. Big gestures may not be his thing, but the small things show you that he is listening.

I.N

"Why are you only eating half the bread?" Yeah, why are you insulting the bread man? Well, maybe because carbs shoot your levels to Jupiter and beyond.

When you admitted this, he was a little confused. He saw you down pastries and other baked goods almost weekly. What he didn't know is that you would save your spike for him. Today, however, you dropped a lot and had to have a snack.

You told him that you had been slowly switching diets that cut down on carbs, a keto diet you believe it was called.

He listened patiently as you spoke, already taking mental notes of other places you can go with him without guilt or starvation.

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