#homemade dinner near me

[chefpinhomecooked]

Taking Advantage of Online Home Food Delivery for Its Convenience and Flavor

The proliferation of food delivery apps has altered the gastronomic landscape significantly. The way we eat out is changing, and apps like Chefp.in are leading the way. The ability to order the Online Home Food Delivery and savor it without leaving the house has become increasingly valuable as hectic schedules have become the standard.

One of the most prominent services in this space is Chefp.in, which facilitates the connection of diners with local home chefs who can prepare a wide variety of delicious meals. Users in search of the best in online homemade food delivery in Noida will find everything from classic favorites to cutting-edge culinary creations available here. The variety of food on offer is quite impressive, ranging from hearty home-cooked meals to genuine regional specialties.

The app helps local home cooks while satisfying users' cravings for homemade meals. This radical change in how we eat reflects how we've progressed in our connection with food throughout time.

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

[juniperskye]

Silence is Louder than Words.

Sneak peek: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson, Tommy gets them set up in a home on the outskirts of the community (per Joel’s request). Joel notices they have a neighbor and takes an interest in her. Tommy lets him know that they don’t know much about you other than you had been through some serious shit, but that you haven’t spoken a word since you’d arrived in Jackson. Tommy asks Joel to keep an eye on you…and in doing so, Joel may just be able to break through your defenses.

Joel Miller x (Fem) Reader

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 3512

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited, I did my best (ngl I had so much more planned for this but it didn't seem like it would work in this part of the story...so maybe more to come. IDK) - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, minimal use of y/n (there were parts it just couldn’t be avoided), No description of reader other than she/her pronouns and her sister was similar to Ellie (could be perceived as personality), implied age gap (kinda?), explicit language, reader has selective mutism due to trauma, Canon typical violence, PTSD, panic attacks, nightmares, insomnia, anxiety, mention of r*pe (past trauma, not detailed), mention of pregnancy (past, not detailed), mention of child murder (past, some detail), mention of murder. IF THESE ARE TRIGGERS FOR YOU, DO NOT READ!!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Joel, it’s really good to have you guys back here…safe.” Tommy said, pulling away from Joel.

“We’re glad to be back.” Joel grunted.

“Well, I have you guys situated in a house on the outermost part of the community. I figured you’d prefer it that way.” Tommy explained.

“Thanks Tommy.” Joel nodded.

Tommy led Ellie and Joel over to a house that was quite literally on the outskirts of the Jackson compound. Joel took note of the lack of neighbors as they walked further and further and it put his mind at ease, knowing he’d have some privacy. As they neared the house, it was Ellie who noticed the small white house just off to the left of their own.

“Who lives there?” Ellie questioned.

“Oh, that’s Y/N’s house. She’s real quiet, y’all won’t have to worry about her stirring up any trouble.” Tommy informed.

“I thought you said no neighbors?” Joel gruffed.

“Joel, she’s quiet. You don’t have to worry about that. Honestly, I was kind of hoping you’d keep an eye on her, just make sure she’s okay.” Tommy pleaded.

“Tommy, I’m not gonna play babysitter for a grown ass woman.”

“That’s not what I’m askin’ and you know it. She just – she’s been through it. She keeps to herself mostly and Maria and I worry about her.” Tommy explained.

“Fine. I’ll keep an eye on her. But I’m not gonna go and chit chat with her.” Joel rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect that.” Tommy began. “From either of you.” He mumbled. “Why don’t y’all head in and get settled, you can meet Maria and me for dinner. Sound good?”

“We will be there!” Ellie replied, pulling Joel inside by the sleeve before he could decline.

Joel couldn’t help but wonder why Tommy was so worried about you. Tommy had boasted about how the people of Jackson were all strong and each held their own. They wouldn’t be here otherwise. So, what was your deal? He’d mentioned that you had gone through some tough shit, but what was it? He had to say, he was intrigued.

His interest only grew once he saw you for the first time. It was about a week after his and Ellie’s arrival back in Jackson. You had been walking around the mess hall with a basket full of homemade goods, passing them around to people. He’d seen you pass out a few bottles of what he assumed to be some sort of toiletries as well as some clothing items to various people.

Joel waited until Ellie had run off to sit with some of her new friends to ask about you.

“So, what’s her deal?” Joel inquired.

“Who? Y/N…I thought you weren’t playing babysitter?” Tommy teased.

“I’m not. I just want to know why you think she needs looking after.” Joel replied.

“Honestly Joel, we don’t know much about her. She hasn’t said a single word in the four years she’s lived here.” Maria informed.

“Bullshit. She’s said somethin’ at some point.” Joel scoffed.

“No, Joel she really hasn’t. She knows some sign, but she mostly writes stuff down if she really needs to communicate.” Tommy said.

“Damn. Well, what’s her role around here since she doesn’t talk?” Joel couldn’t help but be confused.

“She makes all sorts of stuff for the people of our community. She’s figured out how to make shampoo, soap, lotion, sunblock, toothpaste…I mean the list goes on. She also repairs clothing when necessary, she’s the best seamstress in town.” Maria smiled at how wonderful you’d been since your arrival, jumping right in to contribute.

Joel was taken aback at how much you clearly brought to the community. Despite your silence, you’d made yourself known. Joel could see how you were well liked based on the greetings you’d received from those you were delivering to. He found it very odd that you’d keep to yourself despite Jackson’s fondness for you.

Joel had always been a loner, but it had been due to his stubbornness, sarcasm, potty mouth and overall negative attitude. His mother had always said “Joel, ever the pessimist” when he’d say something even remotely negative in his youth.

Learning all this about you had only transformed Joel’s intrigue into a need to know you. He couldn’t help how he was drawn to you, he wondered if it was because, perhaps, you were kindred spirits.

Joel woke with a gasp, his body covered in a cold sweat. Another nightmare, it had been the same recurring dream night after night since he’d found Ellie. Every time he made it through the hospital, and he’d gotten to the operating room, only this time he barges in to see the doctor holding her brain in his hands.

He woke up the same way too. Startled awake, laying in a pool of his own sweat. Joel tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. He thought about it and decided to take a walk to clear his mind, now that he and Ellie were in the safe confines of Jackson, he was able to do so.

Joel didn’t want to stray too far in the case that Ellie needed him, so he was more so pacing from the front of their house, over to the front of yours. It was a warm and humid evening; Jackson had been nearing Autumn and Joel was looking forward to the break in the weather.

A muffled shout pulled Joel’s attention from smacking the mosquito that had surely bitten him by now. He glanced back toward his house to see if Ellie’s light had been turned on – nothing. He shook his head, ready to brush away the thought when he heard a louder scream, only it was coming from your home.

Joel rushed to the door listening just to be sure and when he heard you scream again he was quick to open the door. He was surprised to find it unlocked, although the people of Jackson seemed at ease in their community.

He swiftly surveyed the room, desperate to find you and ensure your safety. Joel found you thrashing around on your couch, screaming, begging for help. He made his way over to where you were laying and gently placed his hand on your shoulder. He shook you a few times to rouse you, but when you woke, you hadn’t reacted how Joel would have expected.

“What? What are you doing here? GET OUT!” You shouted, pushing Joel away from you.

Joel shot up, mostly in shock at hearing you speak for the first time, but also to follow your request. He made his leave, not wanting to upset you any further.

You couldn’t believe it. Joel had come into your home and woken you up. What was he thinking? Why had he been there? Had your nightmare haunted you so badly that your screams could be heard from his home? You were horrified and humiliated. You had done so well, hiding your demons, shoving them down so far that no one could see, and in a single night they’d all come out and bore themselves to none other than Joel miller.

The next few days were horrible. You had done everything in your power to avoid Joel, who seemed to be seeking you out. On top of that, your insomnia had made a wonderful return. Your mind refusing respite in fear of Joel finding you in another traumatic night terror.

You weren’t sure what had even caused your nightmare that night. You hadn’t had one in nearly a year, but thinking about it, there were a few potential triggers that came to mind. The first possibility was Maria being far enough along in her pregnancy to be showing, the second being Ellie’s striking similarities to your sister, and the last being Tommy’s mention of them finding and taking care of some raiders on his patrol that day.

Hell, it was probably a combination of all those things that had you reliving some of the worst moments of your life. You hoped that the feelings would soon pass so you could get some sleep.

“Tommy, I need you to be straight with me. What happened to Y/N before she got here? Like what do you know about her?” Joel pushed.

“Joel, I already told you we don’t know much.” Tommy huffed.

“But you know something!”

“Okay listen, she arrived here alone. She had a small pack with her and that was it. Maria and I sat with her and asked her dozens of questions, and we didn’t get a single word out of her. I stepped out to deal with something and when I got back, she had been writing her responses to Maria. I know that she had previously been with a group but none of them survived. And based on what I saw, I’d say whatever happened wasn’t pretty.” Tommy explained.

Joel just nodded, content with learning more about you. But still so curious to know what was haunting you. He couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to protect you. Of wanting to find what was causing you harm and making it so it could never hurt you again. He’s trying desperately to figure out this need to hold you and make everything okay, why he was so drawn to you.

“Look Joel, Maria told you how much she does for the community, and you’ve seen for yourself that she sticks to herself, she’s quiet, and she doesn’t cause trouble. So, we don’t push her to know more. The last thing I will say is that whatever she went through…she is a damn good shot. Do with that information what you will.” Tommy patted Joel on the shoulder and walked off.

Joel sat with the information for a bit. Had you been forced to kill your way to Jackson, is that what was haunting you? That is something that is justified, those things, they aren’t people anymore and raiders well if you didn’t kill them, then they surely would kill you so again justified. It had to have been something far worse if you refused to speak.

Joel decided he’d observe you, and he’d be there when you had another nightmare. Since losing Sarah, Joel hadn’t really wanted to be around anyone. Tess was stubborn, more so than Joel, so she was able to force herself in – and even then he didn’t open up much. And well, Ellie, she was his second chance at being a dad. But you, you had come in and taken up residency in Joel’s mind and it was because of that feeling, one he hadn’t experienced in a long time, that he knew he needed to break down your walls.

And that is how Joel found himself trying to comfort you through another nightmare. Joel had been out walking late at night again, the nights had started to finally cool off and he’d found it helped clear his head to take walks like this one.

It was nearing two in the morning when he heard it, your cries for help. He made his way up your porch steps and carefully tried the handle, saying a silent cheer when the handle turned, and the door gave way.

This had been different than the last time, as he approached you, he noticed the tear tracks lining your cheeks and he could hear your quiet whimpers. He knew he had to do this right if he was going to get you to let him in.

“Sweetheart? Wake up, you’re safe. I’m here and you are okay.” He gently shook you.

You woke up, startled once again to find Joel Miller is the one waking you. This man had a lot of nerve letting himself into your house, yet again, and while you’d love to give him an earful right now, the pain of what your nightmare had brought forth in your mind was crippling.

So, you threw yourself into Joel’s arms. He wrapped himself around you and repositioned himself, so he was sat on the couch, and you were in his lap. Your face was buried in his neck and his arms were tight around your waist. He ran his fingers gently through your hair and whispered reassurances in your ear.

He held you until you fell asleep and when you woke up at sunrise, he released you and saw himself out. He knew he had to gain your trust, and it would take time. This is how it would need to be done, he would have to keep quiet and leave when the morning came.

A few hours later, after he and Ellie had breakfast, she was heading out to school. Joel was expecting her to leave like usual, so he was pretty confused when she returned to the kitchen carrying a small wicker basket.

“This was on the porch, I gotta head to class or I’ll be late!” She waved and headed out.

“Thanks kiddo. Have a good day.” Joel said goodbye.

He slowly pulled the items from the basket and a small smile graced his features. He brought them out one-by-one, a bottle of sunscreen, a bar of soap, some solid deodorant and a new flannel shirt. Beneath everything was a small note.

"Joel, I wanted to give you these as a sort of thank you and apology. Sorry for yelling at you that first night and thank you for last night. I figured you and Ellie could use some hygiene products that weren’t pre-apocalyptic. I also noticed how torn up your flannel had been and wanted you to have one that wasn’t threadbare.                                                                                                 -Y/N”

Joel’s smile grew, this was just the beginning of his mission to break down your walls and it was off to a successful start.

You proceeded to have nightmares at least twice a week for the next three months. Joel was with you for every single one. Each time he’d gently wake you and he’d shush you, assuring that you were okay. The only thing that had changed was that more recently, Joel would carry you off of the couch and to your room, where he’d hold you close until you fell asleep.

In the last week the nightmares had come every night, and while Joel so badly wanted to ask why, he knew that he had to let you come to him. You had spoken to him in two-to-three-word responses in the last few weeks and Joel was so glad that you’d been able to open up to him even that much.

What he didn’t know was that the reason your nightmares had become more frequent was because Maria had finally given birth. Seeing her with her baby had been killing you, it had brought back so many awful memories and you knew that you’d need to tell Joel. You’d wanted to tell him days ago why you had been having such a hard time, but you were also terrified of it changing the dynamic between you.

Something was different tonight; you had slipped Joel a note during dinner at the mess hall, inviting him to come by your place a bit earlier. When he arrived you couldn’t help but be nervous, you felt so unsure of everything, but you were starting to trust Joel and some part of you knew that he would understand everything.

You had decided it was now or never. He had been with you every night of the week and he never pushed you to share. He told you about what he had been through and some of the things he had done to get here and had let you meet him with silence. You supposed now was your turn to share.

“Joel?”

“Yeah sweetheart?” He tried to hide his surprise at your initiation.

“I want to tell you what happened…is that okay?”

“Of course, sweet girl. Only share what you’re comfortable with okay? I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Joel pressed a light kiss to your temple.

“So, it started with my sister and I, she was younger than me, Ellie reminds me a lot of her. She and I well, we got caught up with these raiders. Well, they, they uh…” You choked.

“It’s okay honey, take your time.” Joel rubbed a soothing hand down your spine.

“They forced themselves on us and left us both beaten and bloody. After that, my sister was in a bad way Joel. She uh, she was reckless and careless, and she got herself killed. And well, I ended up pregnant. I found my way to this small group of people that were headed here to Jackson. I guess they had heard it was a community and it was safe. We lost people along the way and sometimes we’d stop and stay somewhere for a month or so if we found it suitable. Anyway, by this time there’s only four of us left and I had my baby…” Tears started freely flowing down your face and Joel gently wiped them away.

“Sweetheart you really don’t have to…” Joel could tell where this was going.

“I need to say it. I’ve never said this out loud and I need to. My son was born, and he was beautiful. But he had colic and so he cried all the time. I did everything I could to keep him quiet as we went but it was putting us in danger, and I knew it. I offered to let them go on without me, I told them that he and I would come when he’d grown out of it. But a little while later I’d woken up to find him dead.” You sobbed. “They had suffocated him, claiming that we’d never get anywhere with him crying all the time and that they didn’t want to leave me behind. I killed them all Joel. I didn’t even hesitate. I pulled my gun out and I shot all three of them and then I left and never turned back.”

Everything came together, it had all started to make perfect sense. You’d held onto this guilt for the last four to five years. Survivors guilt over the loss of your sister, guilt of not being there for your child – something Joel knew all too well, and the guilt of killing people that you once cared about. He completely understood, he too would’ve stayed silent had he been through all that you had. What is there to say when you’ve lost everyone.

Joel held you tighter, allowing you to cry softly into his chest. He wanted to give you a few moments to calm yourself down before he said anything to you. He knew how delicate this situation was, and he needed to do things right.

“Sweetheart, I want to start by saying how sorry I am. I am so sorry you had to go through all of that. I also want you to know that you can’t feel guilty, and I know that it’s easier said than done but darlin’ you did everything you needed to in order to survive. You wouldn’t be here any other way baby girl.” Joel pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Thank you Joel. For being here and for – for listening to me. I can’t quite explain it, but I trust you and so, I don’t know, I just wanted to tell you. Having you around has made me feel better honestly and it’s sort of the only way I can sleep anymore.” You explained.

“I trust you too baby, and you’re not the only one. I sleep better with you here too, having you in my arms these last few months, it’s been amazing. Besides Tommy and Ellie, I think you’re about the only person I trust.” Joel smiled down at you.

From then on, things had changed between Joel and you. He was the only person you talked to, you shared everything with him. Joel and you spent every night together some nights at your place and more recently, some nights at his. Initially, you’d expressed your worries in doing so, you told him you didn’t want the entire town to know, and you were worried about running into Ellie in the hallway.

Joel had told you that there was no need for some public spectacle and that there was no need for worries that it would get out amongst the townies. He also reassured you that Ellie was a good kid, and she could keep a secret.

So, little by little you opened up to Joel, Ellie, and soon enough Maria and Tommy too. The five of you had become a family, you’d found that you fit into it almost too well, so much so that it was beginning to scare you.

Despite your fears, you allowed yourself to fall. Joel had proven to you time and time again that he was there for you and that he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d also gotten you living by the philosophy that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and you needed to take this life while you had it.

So, you did.

[writingoddess1125]

How They Say They Love You

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Mihawk x GNReader

Fluffy Fluff McFluff 💖 💕

Support me On Ko-Fi so I can eat 🙃👍🏽

Luffy

Words of Praise

• Luffy shows love by words of praise and also constant physical touch.

• The Goofy ADHD man loves to talk and praise you. Speaking about you like you were sent by the gods gift wrapped for him and that you are just perfect.

• Him speaking to you is also a act of love, chatting with you for hours on end since he can't get enough of it. It's truthfully really sweet and he will just like to hear you talk as well.

• "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! There you are! I had a crazy dream I wanted to tell you about!"

• He may not have the strongest attention spand but for you- He could listen to you all day.

Humming softly as you looked to him, giving him your undivided attention which made him smile.

- "Hey (Y/N)" Luffy whispered, wrapped around you as the two of you laid together on the deck of the ship and staring up at the stars above. His hands rubbing circles on your skin as you cuddled closer.

He had been chatting with you for the last hour, deciding a date on the deck of the shop would be nice- Getting Sanji to make the two of you a nice dinner and even some drinks. For you a cocktail while Luffy opted for milk.

"I just to let you know, I appreciate you in every way. I adore you. If something was to happen were we could never sail again, I just want you to know that I would very satisfied with it since I got time with you. I love you."

Zoro

Quality time and Listening

• Zoro adores you, but he is a rather stoic person when it comes to the romantic aspect of his emotions. So the way he shows his love for you is by quality and listening.

• As you chatter on he will calmly lay next to you listening to every word. If you want also giving back useful commentary to show how important what you're talking about is.

• He also shows it by actively wanting to be near you. While it doesn't seem like much at first Zoro will always place himself close to you, enjoying your presence above all else.

• He also likes taking you around to beautiful places so that the two of you can revel in it and just enjoy each other's time.

- You had been sitting in your quarters reading. You had a bad day and truthfully were trying to find a way to wind down. Rubbing your temple to try and ease off the frustration.

Already feeling better about the shit day You looked to Zoro, seeing his eyes focused on you as you spilled your heart. It made your heart flutter as you could see the way he looked at you- like you were the most important person in the world.

"(Y/N)- You're stressing" Zoro said suddently, surprising you by his sudden presence in your quarters. Walking over from the doorway he sat next to you calmly, Leaning back in his usual lax self.

"Sorry I just had a bad day" You mumbled, Zoro waving for you to speak about it. Which you gladly did- Beginning to rant about how Nami had annoyed you and venting.

Sanji

Cooking and PDA

• Sanji is a very romantic person at heart- He is big on showing love their very public displays of affection and also flexing his skills on you.

• Be prepared to be talking and suddently dipped into a passionate kiss infront of everyone before spun and left blushing, dazed and not knowing which direction you were in.

• "Well hello sweetheart~" He purrs out and wraps a hand around your waist and plants his palm of the flesh of your ass drawing a Squeak from you and smacking the man's arm for such a think. Drawing a loud laugh from him.

• This man can't get enough of you ❤️

• He also loves to use his cooking skills to show love. Be prepared to gain some extra love weight with this man around! From your favorite breakfast in bed- Suddently having a homemade candy kissed into your lips and more.

- You were in the shared room you had with Sanji, going through your supplies to be prepared for when you guys next docked and more then likely ran into trouble.

Usopp

So focused it wasn't until a firm smack to your behind drew you from this and you spun around red faced to see a Smiling Sanji-

"You're gonna leave a mark on of these days!" You whine, Sanji winking at you "I'll kiss it better then" He held up a beautiful slice of cake to you. You giggling at this and reaching forward to take a bite of the sweet dessert and hummed in delight.

Sanji stared at you, a smile on his lips as he kissed the back of your hand and caressed your cheek.

"I hope the dessert is sweet enough for you. Even if it pales in how sweet you are~"

Physical Affection

• Oh this man is a cuddler- Head over heals and wants a hug more then anything!! Maybe it was a lacking of physical touch growing up as he only got a handful of hugs from Kaya after his mother died- or that he just likes the way you feel. But Usopp is very physically affectionate

• This man leans on you, while he spouts nonsense he will subconsciously lean against you like you are his anchor

• Will want some cuddles at some point- Can't sleep without them after a while or can't sleep if you're not near by.

• Likes all forms of physical Intimacy, Holding hands, Hugs, Kisses, Massages, cuddles, sleeping together, 'Sleeping' Together ❤️ , and more. Just wants it all

• Will walk in to see you hard at work and immediately start to massage your back- "A little to the left" You groan out, Usopp chuckling at this and doing as you instructed with a proud smile.

- You'd taken a break. Tired from the long day of working on the ship, you leaned against the railings and stared out at the sea. Taking in the salty air and calm rocking of the boat.

Usopp hugged you tighter and tucked his face against your neck; His arms wrapping around your waist as his hands rubbed gently against your sides. He felt warm and so soft- his love practically pouring through in his hug which made you smile.

"You doing alright?" You hear Usopp say softly, covered in soot and smelling like gunpowder as he grinned at you. You nod and relax as you feel him wrap his arms around you.

"Just tired" You say softly and close your eyes to relax against the man.

Nami

Gift Giving

• Nami has a rough time with admitting feelings. Having been in a abusive situation for many years she can't show vulnerability easily and that includes romance- But she's so in love with you it conflicts.

• So Nami had found a way to show you the love you deserved while she slowly worked on herself. She studied you- Saw the things you liked and what made you smile and got things for you.

• Hiding them around in places only you would know about or directly handing them to you.

• Nami knows she is a work in progress. But hopes that her gift giving and slowly opening up to you just shows how much she cares.

• The two of you were sitting side by side- Holding hands which was new for Nami and just enjoying the moment. Nami shifting and holding up a wrapped box for you "This is for you-" She said shyly, You smiling and giving her hand a gentle squeeze and thanking her profusely

- Nami had left the day earlier- It had made you a bit sad however she had some errands to run for the Strawhats due to her natural skills in bartering and getting what she wanted.

You had walked into the bedroom to change for the evening, however saw flowers on the bed, your pajamas already laid out and some gift boxes on your side. A letter laid ontop of them- opening the letter quickly you smile at the words

"I love you (Y/N) I got these for you. I'll see you Tommorow morning I promise. ♡ Nami"

Buggy

Holding the letter close to you and feeling your heart flutter. You smile and open up her sweet gifts. There was your favorite animal in a stuffed toy form and a dessert that looked expensive and was just to your taste. You knew even if Nami had a hard time expressing herself but it was these moments that clearly took a lot of thought and care that truly showed her love.

Domestic and soft Intimacy

• Buggy is a egotistical brat- But he loves you more then he loves the sea. You are his stars, so he will show you love with his real self.

• His whole life is a performance, but with you it's the real deal. So you only get the real him in turn. Even if in public he is loud, rude and will pretend to treat you the same even if he seems to fail even infront of others.

• Gentle hugs, soft kisses, Holding you with a arm over your shoulder or a gentle hand rubbing your thigh.

• Also is oddly domestic-

• Whem you are sick he makes a nice soup for you- Sitting next to you and feeds you the homemade soup, measures out your medicine and makes sure you're hydrated. "Rest Doll- I'll take care of you.."

• Buggy acts almost like a house husband with you. Gentle, domestic and soft- The opposite of his Clown Persona.

- The two of you had woken up late, having not gone to bed early due to.. reasons 😳. So you guys were scrambling to get ready- Buggy buttoning your shirt while you fixed his hat and so on.

"Damn it I can't find my boots"

You hiss, searching desperately as Buggy helped look for you as well. Finding them with his stuff he carried them to you and gestures you to sit on the corner of the bed. Obediently you do, Buggy kneels and carefully slides the boot on each foot and starts to tie your laces.

You felt your cheeks warm at this- Buggy humming softly as he finished tying your shoe and smoothing out your bottoms of any invisible on your clothes. He looked up at you and you just saw the undying love in his ocean eyes, rubbing your leg for a second before standing to finish getting you ready.

Mihawk

Acts of Service and Gentle Touches

• Mihawk is a very VERY reserved man. Not one for open affection or truly any hard emotions at all. So while he does love you he has a incredibly unique way of showing it.

• The man sees acts of service as a way of love and so he does anything for you. All you have to do is ask and you shall receive- From cooking dinners, cleaning, being mindful of how you like things. This is how he shows love.

• As time progresses he will start adding little touches. Rubbing his hand over your arm, holding your hand- small things as he slowly works up to being more physically affectionate.

• Mihawk had kept you from a certain room for a while, after a week he lead you to it silently. You walk in and are blown away by what you see- There he has made you a personal studio for you to do your favorite hobbies. Have it be reading, writing, painting, sewing, gardening. It's for you- "I hope it's to your taste..."

- You had been in your study, setting up for your latest passion project. Looking around you spot an item you needed and groaned- realizing you'd placed it on the top shelf.

• He cares so much for you and it shows in his actions and the light touches he provides.

With one warm hand on you and the other grabbing the item. Feeling how gentle he was and so caring even for an item he cared little for- His golden gaze landing on you. "I can help more if you wish"

You had prepared to just climb the shelf- However like he could sense your bad choices Mihawk appeared. Arms crossed as he stared you down-

"What do you need?" He asked calmly, having you move away from the shelf and stepping forward.

"The purple one please" You chime cheerfully, Mihawk placing a hand on the small of your back to make sure you were safe before reaching to grab the needed jtem.

[miserycanary]

JUST A DAY? ᡣ𐭩 [Ghost ver. Take It or Leave It]

pairing: König & fem!reader

synopsis: König forgets about your special day

tag: milder angst than normal, probably OOC König

It felt like mocking—taunting even. The red circle around today’s date looks like a sight for sore eyes. You ponder each moment that passes without your husband by your side, thinking if all the sacrifice you’ve made that led up to this moment was worth it. Was being abducted on your way home worth it for the man who couldn’t even show up to your own birthday dinner?

The cinnamon candles lit for this specific event are steadily melting, dimming your life even more. Homemade dishes cold and champagne dropping to room temperature. 

König was never the affectionate type—well, outside constant observation and pleads for you to just stay home while he takes care of the rest. He’s too unfamiliar with the ropes of a relationship. He didn’t even expect himself to land you. He’s familiar with the way everyone cowers in front of him because of his bulking figure, cloth draped over his head like some random serial killer, and the battlefield scars that make random strangers put 911 on speed-dial. 

Like always, when he puts his hand out to you, holding the purse you dropped, he expects you to run away, scream, or at least flinch. Though that wasn’t the case. Instead you peered up to him, flashing a soft smile before giving a small gratitude. He watched as your back turned, walking down the street looking like an angel that graced Earth with your presence. 

His next moves might have been.. questionable, but can you blame him? He has social skills comparable to that of a stone. So, yes, maybe it was kind of batshit crazy when he decided to stalk you, find out about you using connections, and all that. Yes, it was his fault when you tased him because he decided it was a good idea to visit you via breaking your window. 

The following years after that were rocky. It wasn’t easy to get you to trust him. It took him about 7 months before you even entertained the idea of going on a date with him. That’s when you finally realize how genuine his feelings are, understanding why he decided to approach the way he did because of his anxiety and overall cluelessness about relationships. 

It was smooth-sailing after that. You lived your life with a boyfriend that acts more like a devotee, but his incapability to understand your emotions really tests you. König doesn’t understand why dates or small things mattered. To him, love is grand and obvious. That’s why he never bothered with the futile things, but wiith your patience, you keep trying to explain. Though it’s always: “Okay, sweetie, I’ll do better next time” with a forehead kiss and luxurious item, but never actual progress. 

So, here you sit, under dim lights when the sound of the hiude being unlocked rang out. Stood there in the entrance was your so-called husband, stunned to see the set-up.

“Hübsch, what’s all this?” König gruffs with a smile, thinking it was for him. 

“Don’t even take a step near me.” 

The cold tone in your voice didn’t go over his head, immediately dropping his bag and coming closer despite your words. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The fucking audacity to even ask. 

“What’s wrong?! You’re really asking me that?!” 

Unable to hold your feelings back, you burst out and the chair clambers back as you stand up. “Do you even know what day it is?” The question hangs in the air and the silence was enough for a reply. “It’s my birthday. My fucking birthday.”

König softens. “Oh, liebe, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow—“

“No! I don’t want another of your fucking pity and unapologetic grand act! I wanted you to be here today, and you couldn’t even show up? I don’t want dinner tomorrow. I wanted us to have dinner tonight with the food I fucking made,” you scream, pushing the dishes down on the floor in anger and letting all the porcelain crash down—along with the pieces of your relationship. 

“Come on. Don’t be angry. I-I’ll be better—“

“It’s always ‘I’ll be better with you’, König.”

Annoyed, König snaps back. “It’s just a day, liebe. Don’t make a scene. You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he growls. 

Your eyes went wild, absolutely seething. There he goes again, dismissing the situation like always. “Just a day?! It’s my fucking day, König! And it doesn’t matter what day it is. I told you this was important to me!! Why can’t you get that through your head?”

“Who cares if I was late to celebrate by a day?!”

“I do! I care! I made all of the food for you!”

Silence envelopes the house and you finally had enough, letting out the words that kept eating you alive for the past few months.  “I wish I never went on that date. It wasn't worth being fucking abducted and ransomed just for a man who can't appreciate the day I was born.”

König’s eyes widened, body stiff as your words pierced his heart. He knew he put you in danger, and he was always shocked when you still decided to be with him. You were the first person to ever accept him like that. To look at him past his face, built, and aura. To stay through his thick and thin. But all this time.. it was your regret all along? All this time you secretly wished you never loved him? Just like that, all the countless nights of worrying and overthinking finally came true for König. Wordlessly, König turns away, slamming the door after him as you’re left standing in the room, the last light of the sand wax fizzles and covers you in darkness. 

You knew you took it a step too far, but… maybe you're just not the person meant for him. Maybe you're not the person who will appreciate König's grand gestures no matter how hurtful it is when he forgets about you. Maybe you're not the person meant to love him, and maybe.. you can live with that. After all, it’s just a day amongst the other 364.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: finally back to writing!! Kinda OOC because I’m not really good with König’s character. Also, you guys should try sand wax candles. They’re so fire (pun intended). Also, addition to the request: 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works: ୭!

[dracowars]

I know u hv a lot to do but could u do a draco x yn potter but lily n james r still alive??

part of the family | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x potter!reader

word count: 1,1k

summary: where draco meets y/n parents, james and lily, for the first time

a/n: my first os since forever!! this came in when my draco requests were still open and i loved the idea, i'm a sucker for draco x potter!reader. i'm truly sorry for taking ages, i hope you enjoy either way <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

If anyone had told Draco in first year that he would be sitting at a dinner table with no other than Harry Potter himself, he would have laughed at them and asked what potion they took. But that was before he met you. Because Draco does still laugh now, but for a completely different reason: he is happy to be sitting here, next to you, in the home of the Potter family.

Your father is just telling one of his iconic stories from his time at Hogwarts, about how he and his best friends once roamed the huge halls of the castle, and the overall atmosphere in the room is so far away from what Draco usually associates with family dinners.

No tension, no awkward silence, no fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment. An hour ago, Draco would have believed that it couldn't be any other way. The second he crossed the threshold into your family's house, however, he was convinced of the opposite.

James and Lily are the kindest people Draco has ever met. They welcomed him with open arms straight away, even though they didn't even know him - expect from what is general knowledge in the wizarding world about him and specifically his family of course. And maybe from the stories Harry told them, when Draco and Harry were still very far from ever sitting anywhere near each other. But over time, many things have changed and you played a big role in improving their difficult relationship.

At first, you couldn't believe that the boy who usually treated your brother like shit had suddenly turned into a completely different person in your presence. But he did and it didn't take long until stronger feelings developed. Harry certainly couldn't believe it but here you are, eating your mum's homemade food, chatting and laughing away.

"Tell me, Draco. Have you mastered the Patronus Charm yet? Y/N told us that you tried it in Defence against the Dark Arts recently. Should have happened way earlier in my opinion, but oh well", James asks your boyfriend, a smile on his lips and genuine interest evident on his face. Draco's parents wouldn't even think of asking something like that.

"Not quite. I mean I managed it, but unfortunately it hasn't taken on a shape yet", Draco replies kindly, but doesn't maintain eye contact with James as he's too uncomfortable. You know that such an answer would probably be punished by his parents if he ever were to say it aloud in front of them, which is why you reach for his hand under the table. On his thigh, you intertwine his fingers with yours, the silver sigil ring cold against your skin. Looking at him from the side, you squeeze his hand and softly smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetheart! You'll get to it", your mother cheers him up, smiling between the two of you and you just know she saw your intertwined hands and loving gaze. You also know that Draco did not expect such a kind reaction and even though he visibly relaxes, he doesn't know what to answer.

The topic of the conversation changes and your dad can't help himself but to ask Draco all about his Quidditch tactics. Obviously, he can't tell him a lot about it since Harry is sitting right next to him, but seeing the three most important men in your life talk so passionately about something they love makes your heart jump. They keep on chatting over dinner and when it's time to clear the table, they don't even notice your mother and you collecting all the plates, too focused on their conversation.

You smile to yourself, following your mum into the kitchen where you put the dirty dishes into the sink and let the water run over them. Immediately, you notice her staring at you with a soft smile on her lips.

"What?", you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"Nothing. It's just..", she says, stopping herself as if to think how to best phrase her next words. "You two remind me a lot of your dad and I when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes. The banter, the loving gazes, the not keeping your hands off each other", she giggles, drying the dishes you hand her with a towel. "From what I have seen so far, I feel like you're truly meant for each other. It seems like you compensate the weakness of the other."

"Mum, stop it", you chuckle, feeling the blush creep onto your cheeks but you know that she is right. She always is. And you truly feel like you can be yourself when Draco is around so you are glad that she genuinely accepts him.

"Don't tell your brother or your dad that I said that though", she then laughs, both of you knowing that the Potter men can be really protective. The moment Draco enters the kitchen, you stifle your laughter.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Potter?", he asks your mum politely and the knowing smile on your mother's face is so obvious you want to sink into the ground.

"Draco, how often do I need to tell you that you can call me Lily-"

"We're almost done, but thank you so much for offering. We'll be right back", you answer and Draco nods, leaving again.

"He is so sweet! What a gentleman!", your mum almost squeaks but lowers her voice so he can't hear her anymore. All you can hear as an immediate response to your mother's comment is a snort, coming from Harry who just entered the kitchen with two glasses, putting them into the sink.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a girlfriend", you mock him while your mum tries to hide her giggle.

"You had all the guys of Hogwarts at your disposal and you seriously went for Draco Malfoy", is all Harry says before leaving again, but deep down you know that if they truly hated each other the way they always pretend they do, they would not be sitting at a table together and they would definitely not be talking about Quidditch.

"He'll come around, don't worry", your mum tells you, stroking over your shoulder as she finishes drying off the last glass. Once all the dishes are back where they belong, you go back to the dining room, happy to see that they are still chatting away.

When Draco meets your gaze, he reaches for your hand and helps you sit down on your seat again. From the corner of your eye you see your parents looking at each other, understanding the other without a word and you can't stop thinking about what your mum just told you about their own young love back then.

"I hope we will do this more often from now on", your dad says, smiling. "And I do not accept a no because you, Draco, are part of the family now."

[fedcrypt]

HIGH SPEED AND FULL THROTTLE

poly!fast-team x female!reader

WRITING WARNINGS: pure adorable fluff because the team deserves all the love &. patience that the reader can give them!

XOXO, CHESHIRE — i’ve always kinda wondered what it would be like in a poly relationship with everyone of the crew so here is a small lil drabble about it! now to specify since i know some may bring up dom and mia being siblings, yes they are siblings and NO they are not in a relationship they simply share the reader along with their friends and NO they aren’t ever near each other in intimate moments either, i know that isn’t discussed here but i wanted to clarify that as well AND i can do a whole list of headcanons if anyone is interested <3!

the growling rumble of numerous cars surrounded the block causing the woman to grin softly to herself as she continued humming along to the voice of reba mcentire that swept through the kitchen. the warming smell of lemon pepper seasoned chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, fresh corn on the cob, and the cinnamon from the apple pie that had been finishing up baking in the oven had flooded through the kitchen of the toretto home. the grin stayed upon the woman’s lips as she moved around the kitchen to grab down the plates for the dinner before she moved towards the silverware drawer and grabbed some prior to heading out the back door, setting up everyone’s spots at the outside table as she heard the shared laughter reaching towards the front door.

“babe?” both dominic and brian had called out in sync as they entered first and couldn’t find their beloved girlfriend who usually greeted them at the door. mia chuckled softly as she took a sniff of the air and knew the woman was probably setting up for dinner, leading to her and letty rushing towards the kitchen in order to beat the boys to the greeting kisses. tej and roman were quick to realize what the girls were doing and quickly rushed after them leaving dom, brian, and han shaking their head and laughing at the antics of those four.

the trio soon found themselves in the kitchen with the rest of the crew who were trying to help y/n plate the food onto safe to carry dishes and help her carry them outside to the backyard table. “there y’all are! y’all had me worried!” y/n exclaimed with a wide grin and made her way through the crowd of her lovers towards the trio who willingly awaited her arrival kisses and gentle fussing checkovers to ensure that they weren’t hurt. “we’re alright sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head over that.” han replied while placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead making the woman gleefully giggle at her man’s actions. the h/c woman was quick to grab at brian’s hand and hold it gently in hers as she quietly with a grin on her face dragged him out the back door of the house with her. dominic and han were quick to follow the pair outside and notice that the rest of the lovable idiots were passing around the drinks that were in the nearby cooler.

“alright which one of y’all wanna say grace?” the woman questioned as roman pulled out her chair as she went to move to do it herself while letting go of brian’s hand as he went to grab himself a drink. she sat down between roman and tej with mia and brian next to the pair of them and letty with dominic and han across from them. y/n found herself filled with so much love in this moment as she watched her lovers all glance at each other and childishly point fingers at each other trying to get the others to say grace.

she simply grasped her hands together and started grace for the lot of them over the dinner that she lovingly prepared for her hungry law-unbinding loves of her life. this time though they all had their heads bowed and only y/n had her eyes shut, all of them stared at her as they all silently wondered how she did it. how did she find the time, energy, and love in her heart to love and provide for them all the very best that she could without any hesistation whatsoever? their beloved girlfriend deserved to be pampered and spoiled after tonight’s dinner and they were going to do just that — just like they always do.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Pinned down

Wayne Munson didn’t like cooking or baking or putting much effort into eating at all. Wayne would eat a bowl of cereal for every meal if he could.

Except - if the cookery involved open flames. Then, suddenly he transformed from the kinda guy who would push through a Hungryman tv dinner that was cold in the center to a gourmet foodie snob.

“Don’t turn that chicken yet, Sonny-jim, let it get the good grill marks.”

“I thought I was grilling tonight?” Eddie complained. “Go relax in a lawn chair, old man.”

“I thought you were grilling tonight too, but if you don’t focus and stop checking out your friend in the short shorts over there, you’re gonna undercook the sausage and burn the chicken.” Wayne Munson was at ease from two PBR’s on an empty ‘don’t want to ruin my appetite’ stomach and the sass that came standard with the Munson Make/Models was out on display.

“We are more than Friends. And I’m very focused.” Eddie said through gritted teeth.

“Gimme that...” Wayne held out his hand for the tongs and gave them a satisfying click click when Eddie passed them over. “...lemme take over so you can go spend time with your ‘more than friend’ and stop ruining the food. Maybe go lock that down? Hmmm? Before Gentleman Jeff get’s here with his nice new post-braces smile and his excellent table manners?? Or Harrington get’s here with his gravity defying hair and his trust fund?”

Eddie was making an annoyed face when he sidled up to you under the shitty gazebo where you were laying out the deviled eggs, the potato salad and the very special homemade cookies you’d baked because Eddie said he loved peanut butter cookies ONE time and you listened.

“Everything okay?” You asked. “You look kinda put out.”

“Nooo... My Uncle seems to think I don’t have you ‘locked down.”

That made you laugh. But Eddie’s face was stone serious

“I guess we’ve been quieter at night than I thought?” You said all arch and flirty.

“I’ve been quiet.” Eddie asserted, tried to look innocent.

“No you haven't, babe.” You shook your head, offered him a cookie, he declined. Clearly worried about something. Too worried for pre-dinner cookies??

“I think Wayne thinks I should ‘pin’ you.”

“Oh - you do that all the time.” You grinned, lasciviously.

“No, you know what I mean. Make it official. Or give you a.... ring?” Eddie toyed with his warthog ring - looking at you very seriously. “Is it too soon? Are you not sure about me yet?”

“Want me to get ‘Eddie’ tattooed on me - someplace strategically visible?” You were not kidding.

“You’d do that for me?”

You leaned towards Eddie and whispered, like this was secret knowledge. “I’m pretty locked down.”

“You tell me you’re mine at night, but I want everyone to know it.” Eddie licked his upper lip and took off his WASP pin - and when you nodded - he gently pinned it on your t-shirt near the collar. He kissed your cheek and said “Now, you’re mine.”

You took out one of your new dangly Ankh earrings and swapped it with Eddie’s ear stud. You kissed his neck below his earlobe. “Now, you’re mine.” You said.

Eddie undid his chain bracelet and tried to put it on you, but it was a hair too big, he ended up loosening it and putting it on your ankle.

You took off your adjustable silver snake ring and widened it up to fit on his left pinky.

Your friends started to show up to the party. Eddie whispered in your ear “I’ll pin you more later.”

[soulc-hilde]

Twiddledee, Twiddledum

Pairing: Eminem x afab!reader

Synopsis: You’ve never been the most sociable person, missing countless of romantic possibilities until an accritically acclaimed rapper decides that you’re the one for him. Of course, the mean girl who lives for theatrics doesn’t agree. 

Based off of this request

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Baby, you’ve been telling me for months about how great of man you’re with, but how come I’ve never seen him before?” Your mother practically whines through the phone call. 

You scoff, shaking your head. Because your other child is a hoe and three quarters. Despite her conscience, you decided to play it safe with your words. “We’ve just been busy, mama. Ya know, if there’s one thing about workaholics, we attract one another.” 

“Child, you may be grown, but I ain’t stupid,” the woman snorts. “Besides, you’re a bad liar. If you’re ashamed of us… I’ll cuss your ass out, but I won’t judge. Your father still believes that wearing socks with his sandals is a practical fashion statement. That’s enough shame to last a lifetime.”

You laugh, nostalgic moments of your family’s arguments over the man’s fashion choices. “That man could bring shame upon a village and he still wouldn’t care,” the two of you laugh. They settle down for a moment. “You do know that we tend to find love that reminds us of home or our loved ones, right? I bet you, that boy you’re with is just like yo’ daddy.”

You freeze for a second, thinking about whether the statement was the slightest bit true. 

“Oh my God,” Hailie gasps, eyes wide as she glares up the stairs. “Dad, no. Absolutely not!”

Stevie and Alaina lean over, trying to see what traumatized their sister. Immediately, their eyes widen, jaws dropping like never before. Their father, goofy as can be yet aggravating as hell, was dressed like the Boy Wonder in a tight costume and a fat blonde wig that contrasted heavily against his dark brown beard.

“What?” He shrugs, gesturing down at the outfit. “You don’t like the look? I was thinkin’ about tryin’ some’ new.” 

Stevie shakes their head, face turning as red as the vest of his costume. “No, you… you can’t. This should be illegal. How did we even get here?!” 

Alaina just laughs, flying back against the couch without a care if she’d smash her head into the frame. Walking around the corner, sipping on a homemade Pepsi slushie, you choke at the sight. Distressed, was the way Hailie described your reaction. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the bullshit that would arise on the once fine Tuesday evening. 

It was only fucking Tuesday. And this motherfucker actually went outside and walked the neighborhood in this shit. Not even your poor Corgi, Parlay, wanted to be caught dead beside this man. 

“Parlay,” he scolds, “come on, man. You gotta take a shit? You better do it now cause you sure as hell ain’t doin’ it in my house.” The dog huffs and whins, tossing and turning on his back, paws covering his eyes. 

You lean out of the living room window, smiling. “Stop stressing him out and maybe he wouldn’t be constipated. Crazy son of a bitch.” 

Oh, good times. Good times. Shit, your mother’s right. He was damn near the mirrored image of your just as comedic father. 

You simply sigh into the receiver, chuckling at the thought. “So, dinner?” Your mother questions, a smile so strong it could be heard through her words. Damn, snake. “Yeah, yeah. I can see about dinner. I’ll ask him first, so we can find a good time and I’ll text you.”

“Yes! I’ll be waiting, now! Kisses,” she hangs up with a quick air kiss to the phone. 

You toss the phone to the other side of the couch, forcing a throw pillow over her face in hopes you’d strangle to death. Marshall walks past, eyes widening at the sight, unsure if you were just being dramatic as per usual or if you needed to talk. 

He takes quick, hesitant steps your way. His strong hand quickly taps the tips of his digits against your neck. You scrunch, catching his fingers in the process, with a yelp. “Ow, Mars,” you wince, “what the hell, man?” 

He removes the pillow, meeting your squinting eyes with a shrug. “Hey, not my fault, you search for death on a regular basis. I still don’t know when you’re serious, sometimes.” 

The man plops beside you, sliding the phone over under your legs. “What’s going on, mama?” He pats your thighs. “My mother wants to meet you, have a nice little family dinner,” you easily open-up.

Between you and Marshall, nothing was complicated. You both found it easy to converse and open to one another, after he felt confident that you weren’t in search of his wealth that is. All of your insecurities, your fears – anything on your minds, was like an encrypted cope that only the two of you could decipher. His kids would constantly compliment your partnership, happy their father has found the beauty in love. 

“Okay, nothin’ wrong with that,” he shrugs. “You don’t avoid talking about your parents, so they can’t be that bad in your eyes.” 

“And they’re not. They’re not the cause behind my worry, it’s my sister,” you nearly growl at the thought of her. 

Growing up, you two were only a few months apart yet you two were polar opposites. While she basked in the praise for everything she did. From the way she talked down to the way she dressed, it was like experiencing Regina George before the Mean Girls movie. Now that you think about it, maybe she inspired the character. 

Outside of her appearance, she began to fraternize with boys a little too much. Sneaking uninvited guests in and out of their house when their parents were gone, knowing her little sister felt incredibly uncomfortable. You could never forget the night she stormed into your room with a boy, invading your privacy as they bounced onto your bed.

“Did you know that she’s a virgin,” your sister laughs, steadily watching your face. “It’s so bad that she gets disgusted by the idea of having sex.” The two laugh, finding humor in the fact that their abrasiveness and ignorance. 

“I don’t get disgusted about sex, idiot,” you hiss, shaking with anger. “I get pissed off when your slutty, disease having ass disrespects my personal space and our parents. So, yeah, I’m gonna get mad.” 

“Aw, poor baby’s gonna cry,” she laughs, hoping to cover the impact of the insult. The boy laughs as well, “maybe she just needs a little action. Really give her something to cry –” 

Irrationally, you swing at his face, smashing the old cd player against his cheek. His body rolls off the bed, shaking the ground on impact. Your sister glares up at you, eyes trembling with fear. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy?”

“Like a fucking patient,” you holler back, snatching her hair, pulling her off the bed. “Let me go, you crazy bitch!” She screams as you drag her down the stairs, silently hoping you’d cause even greater damage.

Since then, things have been different. Well, for one, word got out that you were a crazy, temperamental bitch so no one really got in your way which meant that your sister couldn’t mention bringing a boy home without him pissing his pants. And two, the girl stopped fucking with you. 

Once you graduated high school and went about your adult lives, you simply told your parents one thing. One rule: ‘I never want to hear a single update about that woman.’ Of course, they had their questions and opposals, but after a while, they began to understand that something happened and it was up to you two to figure it out. Which you never will. 

“What about her?” He asks. “That bitch is the reason why I look at sex with disgust, why I felt so uncomfortable with the idea of letting anyone so close and personal,” you huff. 

“She’s even went out of her way in the past to publicly humiliate me because I’d rather pick up a book than wonder who I can fuck for how ever much time.” Marshall’s eyebrows raise, “and that’s a problem, why?” You deadpan, receiving a shrug. “Just askin’, ya know, I used to act similarly in the past.”

You nod, “true, but I can bet that you’ve never gone so far that you’d humiliate and force it onto someone who’s just not comfortable with it.” He nods, “hell no. I couldn’t imagine doing that to anybody.” 

“Well, she had no problem doing that to her little sister. Bitch, had the damn nerve to act offended when I started lashing out.” Marshall snorts, “you do have an insane temper, babe. I thought I was bad, but you take the cake, boo.”

You lightly kick him in the side, rolling your eyes, amused. “Shut up.” He nods, “my bad. My bad. So, the dinner. Do you wanna go, take the risk of your sister being there? Or do you wanna just stay home?”

“We can go,” you shrug. “It’s not right that I got to meet all of your loved ones, but you’re just a stranger to mine.” He nods, “well then, we have a dinner to attend. I’m free this Friday night, okay.” You simply nod, turning your attention to the television. 

– Friday Night – 

The plans for dinner weren’t too fancy, instead it was just a casual steakhouse they were attending. Reaching the restaurant, you two step inside, eyes searching for the booth your mother described to you. 

‘Big and in the far corner,’ she texted. So descriptive mother, she could be a writer with those words. Finally, your eyes fall onto hers. The woman waves, enthusiastically causing her husband to turn around quickly, nearly giving himself whiplash.

“Let’s get this shit started,” you sigh, stepping forward. Marshall pecks you on the head, holding your hand in a gentle caress. 

The two of you reach the table as your parents stand, waiting to introduce themselves. “Mom, dad,” you smile, “this is Marshall. My boyfriend.” He steps forward, shaking your father’s hand before pulling your mother in for a quick hug. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your mother nearly squeals, “oh, you’re so handsome! I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Your father nods, “our baby kept you hidden real good, but she’s told us somethings.” Marshall chuckles, “hopefully, all good things.”

“Of course,” your father leans forward, “it’s good to know that a man with humor has captured her little heart. We were afraid some average pain in the ass was gonna weave his way in.” 

“Dad,” you groan, slipping into one side of the booth when you feel a lump brush against your hip. You look down to see a fake snake skin purse. 

Your face scrunches with disgust, looking at your parents, “please tell me you didn’t get me a gift? Besides, you guys know I hate purses. Especially poorly designed ones.” You grimace, raising the bag by its strap. 

“Uh, about that, lovey,” your mother stutters when a shrill voice cuts in. “Oh my God, no way!” They scream, rushing for the table. You look up, eyes widening at the sight of the monster from under your bed hugging your boyfriend, legs wrapping around his waist.

Marshall coughs on his saliva, eyes widening at the invasion of space. “Get the hell off your sister’s boyfriend, what the hell is wrong with you?” Your mother scolds. 

“Yeah, sure. Eminem is that bastard’s boyfriend, anywhosers.” She drops down, coming to a stop at the dark look that overcame your features. It’s been years since the two of you have talked, much less stand in the same space. It’s obvious time took its toll on the both of you. 

She struggled to keep up with the trending makeup looks and fashion of the decade while you confidently dressed in your casual yet chic black wardrobe of button-ups, jeans, and boots – the sole color you owned being the accessories that fit your mood and simple makeup that worked with your features rather than fight against them. Not to forget the well sculpted figure that filled out said clothes. 

“I see you’ve gotten quite… big,” she scoffs. You smirk, “I see you like the drunkie aesthetic. You do realize the whole concealer for lipstick and clumpy mascara is an old trend of the past, right?” She huffs, “well, it’s back.”

You nod, “yeah. For drunkies.” She rolls her eyes. Quickly, your mother steps in, a gentle hand on Marshall’s shoulder. “This is your sister’s boyfriend, Marshall, she’s been telling us about. You’ll act –” 

“How much is she paying you?” Your sister leans in, “I know it’s not in sex, but it’s gotta be something appealing.” 

“Accordingly as if you were raised with manners and some damn sense or do I gotta knock it into you?” The older woman finishes, a scowl dressing her naturally sweet demeanor. 

Marshall clears his throat, shuffling to your side. “She’s not paying me anything. We started dating like 7 months ago and enjoy being together.” Your father gently guides your mother back to her side of the booth, sliding in beside her. 

“Let’s just continue our dinner,” he glares at his eldest, “respectfully.” You nod, sliding further in so Marshall could get beside you. “Of course, pops,” you snatch the woman’s purse and swing it onto the empty table behind you. “Unfortunately, this table is at capacity, you can sit in the back like a good dog.”

“Bitch,” she grumbles, snatching the bag off the floor. Your eyebrows raise, “I literally just called you that. Don’t tell me your hearing’s going out?” The older man sighs, pinching his nose bridge, “girls, please!” 

He opens his eyes, slowly, focusing on Marshall. “Marshall, please, tell us about yourself. We’d like to know the man who warmed our little girl’s heart.” The rapper nods, “yes, sir.”

As Marshall began talking, trying his hardest not to ramble on about your first meeting, your sister slides in beside him. Ignoring your glare, she set her purse between her hip and his, taking that as her moment to squeeze his thigh. Jolting, he side-eyes her, a flare of irritation taking in her actions like a fuel to his flame. 

He was already irritated that your sister had a history of putting you in such bad positions, but to be here in public and continue to try and humiliate you in your grown ages was infuriating. As begins to hype up your parents for the way they raised you, she goes for another squeeze a bit closer to his groin when he finally snaps.

“Genuinely, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He glares, body completely turned to face her. “You lack that much respect for yourself and your family that you just can’t keep your hands to yourself?” 

Your eyebrows raise, looking over his shoulder at the now flustered woman. “Wha– What? I didn’t do shit to you. You’re the one over here pathetically gushing over her when you’re copping a feel on me. I knew you were a pervert Eminem, but for fuck’s sake man, I thought being sober changed you.” 

You glare at your mother, her own matching yours like a mirror. In your family, your mother was known as the ultimate crashout. Granted, she’s gotten a bit softer in her older age, but that was fit and appeared physically younger than her mental. If needed, she can and is always ready to throw down. 

She slams her palm down onto the wooden table, the glasses clinking with the quake as your face silently stares upwards, lips mouthing a silent prayer. “Girl, when I tell you,” she snarls, pointing a manicured finger your sister’s way. “You need to tighten up, I mean that shit.”

“What– Mama,” she gawks.Your mother’s lips curl in anger, “tighten the fuck up. In your grown ass age, acting like some gahtdamn hussie. Now, I told you, when we do this dinner, it’s about your sister and her man. I ain’t about you, ain’t shit about you.”

“Now, I’m here to tell you,” she leans forward, “either you tighten up, sit in silence, and act like you got some damn sense, take your ass home, or you can go toe-to-toe with me or your sister. Choose wisely.” Both Marshall and your sister turn stiff, eyes widening with fear.

Apple really doesn’t fall too far from the tree, huh? He holds back his amusement, watching your sister stumble over her thoughts. She glances your way only to be met with a familiar glare that brings on memories she tried to forget. 

“I’ll fuck you up,” your accent comes out thick as your mother’s, emphasizing the ‘fuck’ slowly yet strong enough for her to get your point across.  

She nods, sliding out the booth. “I’m, uh, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah? It was nice meeting you, Mr. Mathers.” Holding her purse to her chest, she speed walks out down the aisle for the front entrance. 

Seconds after, your waitress set down your plates. Your father cuts into his rib-eye, enjoying the juicy fat that explodes with flavor on his tongue. He looks up, meeting Marshall’s shocked gaze. Bouncing his knife between you and your mother, cheerfully speaking about something completely different as if y’all didn’t just threaten your sister. 

“Twiddledee, Twiddledumb,” he simply says before going back to his food. Marshall laughs, shaking his head as he cuts into his sirloin. What the hell did he get himself into?

Sorry for the tardiness, I got off work and my legs felt so fucking swollen for some reason, it hurts. I was debating if I wanna sleep first, but I knew that if I did, I was not gonna wake up again.

If I haven't got to your request yet, I'm most likely at work. So, if you guys want to, you can request through someone else if I don't respond some time after 8pm EDT. I'm really sorry, but my legs sting so bad.

Anyways, enjoy!! 💚

Eminem Taglist: @evasmlp

[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist

[estapa-edwards]

WAITING FOR HIM---- N.HISCHIER

paring: nico hischier x fem! reader

word count: 1k

requested? yes - maybe he comes back to your apartment after a loss and you’re asleep and you hear him come in and you wake up and it’s just super fluffy 

warnings: use of y/n.

The living room is dimly lit, the soft glow from a table lamp casting a warm light on the couch where Y/N sits. The clock on the wall ticks away, its hands inching closer to midnight. A hockey game blares from the TV, the commentator's voice echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

Y/N shifts on the couch, her eyes flicking to the clock again. She checks her phone, no new messages. Sighing softly, she wraps herself tighter in the blanket draped over her legs.

"He should be home by now." y/n thought to herself. She rests her head against the back of the couch, her eyes heavy from the long day. She fights to keep them open, wanting to greet Nico when he walks through the door.

The TV's noise becomes a distant hum as Y/N's eyelids grow heavier. Slowly, her breathing deepens, and the rhythmic sound of her soft snores fills the room. 

The room is still dimly lit, the TV now showing the end credits of the hockey game. The front door clicks softly as it opens, revealing Nico, carrying his hockey gear and looking disappointed. He enters cautiously, trying not to disturb the peaceful sleep of Y/N on the couch.Nico tiptoes around the living room, his movements slow and deliberate. He sets his hockey gear down gently near the door and takes a moment to watch Y/N sleep. Her face is relaxed, a soft smile playing on her lips even in her dreams. 

Y/N stirs, her eyelids fluttering open slowly. She looks up to see Nico standing over her, his expression a mix of exhaustion and disappointment.

"Hi Nico, how was the game?"

"Hey, it was... tough. We lost."

Y/n sat up rubbing her eyes “"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

nico takes a seat next to her ‘’Yeah, it was a rough one. But seeing you here when I got home makes it a little better." 

Y/N gives Nico a soft smile, touched by his words. "I'm always here for you, win or lose. Do you want to talk about the game?"

Nico sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, not really. It's frustrating, you know? We practiced so hard, but things just didn't click today."

She reaches out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I understand. Sometimes things just don't go the way we want them to. But you gave it your best, and that's what matters." 

He looks at her, his eyes searching hers.‘Thank you, Schatzi, Your support means everything to me." She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll always be your biggest fan, Nico." He smiles, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lighten a bit. "I know, and I'm grateful for that."

"Do you want me to cook you dinner?" y/n asked. Nico's eyes light up at the offer, appreciating the gesture of care and comfort from Y/N. "That sounds wonderful, Y/N. Thank you." "i can help if you want." nico exclaimed. Y/N smiles warmly at Nico's offer, touched by his willingness to help. "That would be great, Nico. Cooking together could be fun."

Nico nods, eager to contribute and spend time with Y/N. "Alright, what are we making?"

Y/N thinks for a moment, then suggests, "How about we make some homemade pasta? It's comforting and I know you love it."

Nico grins, "Sounds perfect. Let's do it."

They head into the kitchen together, Y/N taking the lead with the pasta dough while Nico offers to prepare a simple tomato sauce. Working side by side, they quickly fall into a rhythm, laughing and chatting as they cook.

As they finish preparing the meal, Nico looks over at Y/N with a smile. "Thanks for letting me help, Y/N. It was actually really fun."

Y/N smiles back, wiping her hands on a towel. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Cooking together was a nice way to unwind and spend time together."

They plate up the pasta and sauce, sitting down at the dining table to enjoy the meal they've made together. The atmosphere is relaxed and cheerful, the earlier disappointment of the game now a distant memory as they focus on their shared meal and the joy of each other's company. 

After enjoying their meal and cleaning up the kitchen together, Nico and Y/N decide it's time to head to bed. The earlier fatigue from the long day still lingers, and they both look forward to a good night's sleep.

As they enter the bedroom, Y/N begins to change into her pajamas, while Nico takes care of his nightly routine. The atmosphere is calm and comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension of the hockey game earlier.

Once they're both ready for bed, Y/N climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Nico joins her, wrapping his arms around her as they settle into a comfortable position.

"Tonight was really special, Nico," Y/N whispers, her eyes meeting his in the dim light of the bedroom.

Nico smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "It was. Cooking together and spending this quiet time with you was exactly what I needed after today."

Y/N snuggles closer to Nico, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. "I'm glad we could make the best of a tough day. I love you, Nico."

Nico tightens his hold around Y/N, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you too, Schatzi. Thank you for always being my rock."

In the stillness of the night, with Y/N in his arms, Nico feels a sense of peace and contentment wash over him. The disappointments of the day fade away as they focus on their shared love and the comfort of each other's presence.

[chefpinhomecooked]

Enjoy the Finest Homemade Dinner Near You with Chefp.in!

Visit Chefp.in to Find Delicious Homemade Dinner Options Near Me.

We at Chefp.in are your go-to spot for enjoying the most delicious cooked meal experiences close to you. Do you yearn for a hearty dish that tastes like it was made in your own kitchen? Look nowhere else! Our website links you with skilled regional chefs that create scrumptious homemade dinners close to you. We have everything you're craving, whether it's a hearty, home-style stew or a gourmet fusion treat. Enjoy the flavors of homemade food without doing any work in the kitchen.

Using the search terms Homemade Dinner Near Me Chefp.in makes finding nourishing meals exceedingly simple. Embrace the goodness of freshly made dinners and bid farewell to standard takeaway. Discover the many selections on our extensive menu, place your order, and treat yourself to a delicious supper tonight. By delivering the very finest in handcrafted goodness to your door, Chefp.in is here to transform your eating experience.

[snixkers]

Movie Night

Emily Prentiss × GN!Reader

Fluff

For: @d33pd3sire-blog

Content Warnings: Mention of wine, miscommunication trope my beloved

Summary: Movie night doesn't go exactly as planned.

Author's Note: I'm back!!!! So sorry for the wait, but I have stuff in the works, I promise!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

It was movie night. The two of you always curled up on your couch, joined by Sergio, popcorn, and the remnants of whatever you had eaten for dinner and the wine that went with it.

Every Friday night, you alternated between her place and yours. But by six, you were getting antsy. She hadn’t come to your apartment yet, and you weren’t sure when she would arrive. Emily always got there a half hour early to eat together.

New Message: Em ❤️

Do you want to cancel?

Recieved 6:30

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, trying to understand what she meant.

Why would I cancel?

Sent 6:31

New Message: Em ❤️

Because you’re an hour late.

Received 6:34

You weren’t an hour late. She was the one late, and now she was getting on your nerves.

We watched ‘Lady Bird’ at your place last week.

Sent 6:35

Now she wasn’t responding, and you were worried.

Babe? Is everything okay?

Sent 6:42

After a few more minutes of nervous pacing, you heard a knock on the door before she gave up and let herself in.

“I’m so sorry, I was exhausted and I thought you were coming over and I was prepared for you and everything-”

You cut her off with a quick hug, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“That’s fine. I was worried you were blowing me off.”

She laughs at you, shaking her head and returning the kiss.

“Why would I ever blow you off?”

You shrugged, trying to think of a response before realizing a mouth-watering smell filled the room.

“What’s that?”

She grins sheepishly, setting a tray on the counter beside the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise as you examined the tray.

"Lasagna? Did you make this for me?"

She shakes her head, shifting on her feet awkwardly.

“Yes and no. I tried making one, but apparently, I botched Rossi’s recipe. Luckily, there’s an Italian place that offers to-go near my house.”

You smiled at her gesture. Here you were, thinking she was blowing you off, and instead, she was trying to make you a homemade dish on her day off.

“Still sounds delicious, babe. Let’s eat.”

[dj-spiderman]

yandere miguel not letting you go back to your dimension, even stealing your watch and trapping you in a secret area of the spider-society unbeknownst to the other spiders. he gaslights you into thinking it’s the work of a villain or something, but secretly he just wants to keep you all to himself…

(optional!) he takes care of you, insisting he feeds and bathes you like some sort of pet, and treats you like one too

I ONLY NEED YOU NEAR

- Miguel O’Hara x M!reader

- Genre: Mature/Yandere

- Warnings: Yandere/Obsessive topics, psychological abuse/manipulation, abusive relationships (non-physical)

- A/N: sorry for the delay of posts, but here you are! Anyways, bit of a crap ending, I didn’t want to keep it going so long, but if wanted, I could possibly add a second part with smut.

You’d be in the spider-society for a little under two weeks now. You’d yet to gone back to your own dimension due to the commands of Miguel O’Hara. Not that you were fond of the man, but you wouldn’t risk your chance in the society. Besides, Miguel told you to wait two weeks before heading back, and it wasn’t a ridiculous wait.

But, when the day of your departure came, he refused. He had Lyla cancel your watch, removing the device and your chance of freedom. His glare threatening, trapping you beneath his stare like prey.

Your breath hitched, body tensing up as the man pinned you to the wall. Snarling and baring his teeth like a wild animal. “You’re not leaving.” His hot breath fans across your face, red eyes staring down at you with slit pupils. Despite his predatory look, he slowly calms himself, resting his forehead against your own. “You can’t leave..”

“Wh-what..?” You stammer, your eyes wide and brows furrowed. What was he on about?

“Your.. your dimension was destroyed. Nothing is left for you there..” Miguel informs, carefully lifting a hand to hold your cheek. “You’ll stay in mine. With me.” He struggles to hide the giddy feeling in his chest, finally having you all for himself.

Tears well up in your eyes, your throat closing up as you struggle to speak. A meek whimper slips past you, and with the noise loose, the tears begin falling.

Miguel is quick to react, both hands now cupping your cheeks. “No, no, no.. it’s okay, mi Vida. I’m here.” One of his hands move down to your bottom, the another behind your head, gently lifting you into his arms. “Please don’t cry, cariño.. I’ll take good care of you, I swear..”

════════════════

It had been a weak since your.. entrapment. Miguel had taken it upon himself to create your own room hidden away in HQ. He’d been ever so generous to make it identical to the one in your dimension, so he didn’t understand why you were so upset.. He was trying his best! Was he not good enough?

“Cariño, it’s time to eat.” Miguel calls out softly as he enters the room. A tray of food in hands. “I made it just for you!” He beams, setting it down in front of you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

You only stare down at the food. You hadn’t spoken much since the news of your dimension, but Miguel didn’t mind. He’d wait until you were comfortable again.

“After lunch today we’ll get you into a nice bath.” He hums, gently brushing back your hair before lifting the spoon to your lips. He was always so set on feeding you.. and you wouldn’t deny him it, he was taking care of you after all.

You look up to him, opening your mouth to allow the soup in. A homemade delicacy he’d recalled you liked. “Is it good?” Miguel questions softly, gently brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, plopping it into his own mouth to clean it of excess soup.

You only softly nod, opening your mouth for another spoonful. It was routine now. Miguel would come during breakfast, lunch, and dinner to feed you. Every second day he bathed you. And for about an hour a day he’d simply spend time with you, whether it be him holding you close or entertaining you the ways he could.

“Such a good boy,” he praises, showing you the empty bowl like a pleased father, a reminder of the time passed in his presence “should we get you in that bath now?” Miguel questions, setting down the dish and taking hold of one of your hands.

You think over the question. It wasn’t your first bath given by him, but you definitely weren’t used to them. It was infantilizing to have a man bathe you when you were perfectly capable, but you weren’t about to fight the man on it… he could easily overpower you.

Your thoughts are silenced as the man pulls you into his arms, dwarfing you with his large body. He carries you into the bathroom attachment of your.. cell? Placing you down on the counter as he starts a bath.

“Did you want me to undress you, or are you feeling capable?” He hums, glancing towards you with cocky look. You stay silent, face flushed as you recall your last experience.

It had been the day of the news. You were so out of it you couldn’t handle simple tasks.. it’s what started all these processes. Miguel thought you weren’t able to care for yourself anymore. He took it upon himself to be your caregiver of sorts… to treat you like a pet.

You simply remain silent, wary eyes watching over Miguel as he approaches. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, I’d love for you to help me, sir.’” He mocks, standing between your legs as he holds your hips.

A small whimper escapes your lips, a shiver fluttering up your spine as you drop your head onto his chest. You felt so weak in his hold..

His large hands work quick, grasping onto the bottom of your shirt, tugging it up as you lift your arms. The man hums in content, kissing your collarbone as he moves down to your bottoms. Fingers hooking around the waistband.

You’re left in boxers, exposed beneath his lustful gaze as he caresses along your body. “Such a beautiful body..” he whispers, hot breath fanning across your neck.

His finger finally tugging down your boxers, causing you to squirm lightly. Once left nude, his hands move to cup beneath your ass, lifting you up to place you in the tub. Cooing about how soft you felt…

It all felt far too intimate for what this was meant to be. Something meant to be platonic and care filled, more intimate and.. dare you say manipulative. Your gut twisted with unknown anxiety, unaware of why you felt so uneasy around the man helping you.

“Hair or body first?” Miguel questions, holding up the two bottles of soap. You think about it for a moment, slowly pointing over to the hair wash. You’d much rather his touch on your hair than body. “Sounds perfect.” He hums, taking a generous amount before lathering up your hair.

His touch is gentle and slow, cautious as to not scare you away. He knew you weren’t too fond of the intimacy (you’d learn to accept it, but he’d wait for now), so he refrained from anything too.. suspicious. Kind enough to let you wash your own body.

“What a good boy, all cleaned up and pretty.” Miguel coos, helping you step out of the tub, drying off your body. He’d been the one to pick out your outfit; something you weren’t too fond of, but would dress in nonetheless.

One of Miguel’s large sweaters and some shorts, shorter than you’d like, sat folded on the counter. A cheeky smile tugging at the man’s lips as he purrs into your ears. “You’ll look so good, cariño~”

He’s the one to dress you. Large hands pulling up some fresh boxers onto your hips. The shorts following suit, ending a bit above mid-thigh. You’re thankful for the way his sweater than pools around you body, providing some extra coverage for the exposed skin.

His hands cup around your head, forcing you to meet his eyes as he smiles, kissing your forehead affectionately. “Such a pretty boy..”

“Why do you.. why are you treating me like a pet?” You whisper meekly, the first thing you’ve said to him since the incident. He seems shocked, slowly grasping ahold of himself as he clears his throat.

“It’s what all good caretakers do.” He states, stroking your damp hair back, his calloused thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“You’re not.. my caretaker.” Your words are a clear mistake. The finger against your cheek growing to place pressure as his nail cuts into your flesh. The result being a thin, bleeding scratch on your cheek, a small whimper following.

“I am.” He snarls lowly, face leaning down towards your own. “And you have no right to say otherwise after all I’ve done. I have fed you, bathed you, spent my time dealing with your nonsense, and all I get back is your ungrateful attitude?” Miguel snaps, his other hand roughly pulling at your hair.

His grip slowly loosens, deeply inhaling before exhaling and relaxing himself. “I’m sorry.. you’re just upset. You just need some time to understand that you’re mine.” He doesn’t seem to speaking to you, but instead more to himself. As if planning ahead.

You’re scared, that’s for sure, but Miguel leaves no room for complaint. His predatory gaze meeting yours. “Cariño, I need you to be good and listen, surely that’s not too hard.” He’s backing you into the wall as he speaks. “I’m not asking for too much, am I? All I want is for you to stay safe. To stay with me.”

Your eyes desperately search for any escape, but you find none possible. His large frame dwarfing you.. “I’ll spoil you and everything! I just.. I want you close to me.. just you and me. We won’t need anyone else!” He’s got you caged between himself and the wall, holding your chin in a rough grasp.

“Just be a good boy, and start listening.” He whispers, licking up your chin, cleaning the earlier scratch of any blood. “I’ll treat you so good..” he’s panting, clearly growing a bit feral with the way his eyes flash a bit brighter.. “All mine.. you’re all mine..”

And slowly, you begin to realize just how fucked you were. Trapped with your obsessive boss and left with no hopes of escape.. truly nothing but a pet to the man. Something to be kept and toyed with. And perhaps… perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad? He was taking care of you; spoiling you even.. perhaps you could live happy as a pet?

[livwritesstuff]

i’ve been sick at home for two days so here have a sick-fic (steddie!dads edition, obv)

It took three weeks from the first day of school for one of Steve and Eddie’s daughters to bring home some strain of elementary school illness – the flu, Steve's pretty sure, though who really knows? Whatever it is, It’s been knocking the family out one by one over the last week. Three-year-old Hazel had been the last man standing for a while, but she woke up this morning with a pretty gnarly cough and no appetite whatsoever, which can mean only one thing:

Random elementary school sickness: 5.

Harrington Family: 0.

So today is a sick day – yet another, because Steve hasn’t been to work all week, same with the girls and school.

Growing up, Steve had liked sick days, when he’d stay home from school and watch TV and eat ice cream on the couch while his mom doted on him all day.

(Then Steve’s dad had an affair and ruined everything, but that’s a whole other thing).

He wants to replicate for his daughters one of very few fond memories he has of his own childhood, so, yeah, the girls have been livin’ large the last few days (as large as three sick little kids can, anyway). They’re piled onto the couch under all kinds of blankets, eating meals of popsicles and toast and crackers, and watching all kinds of junky TV while they doze in and out of sleep.

Steve can admit that having sick kids is not his favorite facet of parenting, but even though he's totally wiped and the house is a wreck, he can't help but find the silver lining anyway because the girls are extra cuddly when they're sick, even nine-year-old Moe who might be nearing the end of the phase in life where she'll allow her dads to cuddle with her, so they've been asking for snuggles and stories, and Steve's fever-brain is running a little slower than usual so he's been taking the time to appreciate how much he loves being a dad, even in the not-so-fun moments.

The older two are sacked out on the couch with Dinosaur Train playing quietly in the background when Eddie decides the brave the real world for a much-needed grocery run. Hazel is awake still, and she wanders after Steve as he attempts to work through the mountain of laundry that has been building up over the last week.

"Wanna help me make dinner?" he asks her as he shoves a final t-shirt into the washing machine.

She shrugs her little shoulders.

"Not hungry," she says.

"Not hungry?" Steve repeats, and he silently curses his childrens’ elementary school for not being as strict as they could be in handling the spread of the flu across its students.

Still, Hazel ends up standing on a chair at the kitchen counter and helping him “cook” (dump three cans of Campbell's into one pot and heat it over the stove – and he won't be taking any criticism on it either, Tracy Baker, who's claiming to still be making homemade meals even though her family's in the exact same boat).

Eddie returns from the store just as Steve is pulling the pot of chicken noodle soup off the burner.

"Bold choice to have the most freshly sick kid help with dinner," Eddie comments, his eyes on Hazel as he sets grocery bags onto the counter.

Steve looks over just in time to see Hazel’s feeble attempt at blowing on the hot, steaming soup turn into a pretty spectacular toddler-cough right into the pot.

“Christ, no wonder we can’t shake this thing,” Eddie continues, looking vaguely impressed.

“Eh, I’ll stick it on the stove for another fifteen. It’ll probably boil off.”

[holylulusworld]

All the pie in the world

Summary: It’s Dean's 45th birthday and you will celebrate it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of near-death experience, implied naughtiness, fuck canon, Dean is alive for my story

A/N: A short drabble for his 45th birthday. Take this canon. You cannot stop me!

A single moment. One false step and you almost lost him.

You always feared this is how you are going to lose Dean. In a battle, killed by one of the many things that bump in the night.

It was a close call.

Since that day, you have tried to make the best out of every day you can spend with Dean. Especially when the day is his special day.

January the 24th – his birthday.

You are going to celebrate the day as if there is no tomorrow. When you live the life of a hunter, you never know what will happen next.

“What is all of this?” Sam watches you carry another pie inside the library. You decorated the whole room with balloons, a huge banner saying Happy 45th Birthday, and garlands. “Y/N?”

“A pie for Dean’s birthday,” you quip and go back to decorating the library for the surprise party you planned for Dean’s birthday.

Not many of your friends are still alive, and the rest won’t make it in time for the party. But this didn’t keep you from cooking and baking all night to give Dean the best 45th birthday he could imagine.

“There are like ten pies on the table,” Sam furrows his brows. “Why did you bake so many pies? We are three people and an angel.”

“You only live once,” you shrug before going back to decorating the table. “Dean will get as many pies as he can eat. He’ll get all the pie in the world. I made one of every sort he loves. So, stop moping and help me decorate the room. Dean will be back any minute. He wanted to go for a ride and enjoy the snow is gone.”

“I hope he won’t have a heart attack after eating all the pie,” Sam jokes. “You know he won’t be able to stop eating a slice of every pie you baked for his birthday. His stomach will combust.”

You grin. “That’s the plan, Sam. I will feed my man with so much pie he’ll never complain about getting old again. Dean will be busy complaining about his stomach. I’ll give him belly rubs and—”

“STOP!” Sam raises his hands. “I don’t want to know what comes after the belly rubs.” He shudders. “Please don’t tell me more. No one deserves to hear about the things you and Dean do in the dark.”

“Aw, we don’t do it in the dark, sweet Sammy,” you pat Sam’s chest. “We do it in the morning, during lunch. Sometimes even while having lunch.” You smirk and continue. “Dinner is always special. Dean loves having a snack before the main course. Oh, and we leave the light on. I wanna see the stallion I call my boyfriend when I—”

“I didn’t hear a thing.” Sam puts his index fingers in his ears. “I hate you. Both of you!”

“Sammy! Sweetheart!” Dean calls for you and his brother. “I’m back. Damn, the ride was awesome, and Baby purred like a cat for me. I bet she knows it’s my birth—” He stops in his tracks to drink the decoration in. He hums and wrinkles his nose looking at the big forty-five laughing in his face.

“Happy birthday baby,” you jump in Dean’s arms, giggling as he easily lifts you and helps you wrap your legs around his waistline. “You look good today.” You peck his lips. “We have pie, homemade lasagna, beer, booze, and later…” You dip your head to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to put whipped cream on every important part of you and lick it off.”

“Uh-“ he swallows thickly. “Can we go to the whipped cream part first?” Dean grins when you shake your head. “What else do you have to offer.”

“Ten pies,” Sam says. He points at the table. “Your girlfriend lost her mind, but we still love her.” He says. “I’d hug you and wish you a happy birthday too, but you are occupied with cuddling.”

“We are not cuddling,” Dean grunts, and smirks at his brother. “Not yet, bitch!”

“Jerk,” Sam retorts as always. “Happy birthday man, you don’t look bad for your age.” He grins. “How about you open my present before you unpack something else.”

You let go of Dean and wrap him in a bear hug, whispering Happy birthday again. Sam takes your place when you step away. He hugs his brother and holds him for a moment.

They part after a few moments and nod at each other. Sam steps away and watches his brother sit on a chair.

“I want pie first.” You laugh at Dean’s words. “A slice of every sort!” He exclaims while hungrily staring at the pies on the table. “Damnit, I’ll need bigger pants after this birthday…”

Tags in reblog.