#slide that bad boy in the oven

[cendiqii]

what is your wisdom

*taps microphone* the secret to making bread is to leave it alone

[potchi-fics]

note: backshots with g!p vi mhhmmpffhmmhfpphfmmm, also it's 3:50 am here when i finished writing this (w/o the good boy for the folks out there, here's the link, all of my g!p works will be posted in there.)

      vi’s libido is exceptionally high—especially when it comes to you and you only. you have the power to turn her on, to make her dick so hard, it’ll leave her aching, needy, and whiney. you could be bending to get something you baked from the oven, or press your tits on her arms to show her something, or just wear shorts that reveal your thighs.

her eyes have never shined so brightly. her dick gets harder and harder every time. the moment you step out of your shared bathroom wearing just her shirt and underwear—she is gone.

“vi, how are you turned on right now,” her hands roam your body, still slightly damp from a shower, “you seriously cannot be turned on.”

      she kisses your neck, vi’s front making contact against your back, leading you to lean your head to the side, giving her more access. 

vi whines out, her hips grinding on your backside, hissing at the small pleasure, “please, baby. can’t help it,” your hand lands on her hips as she begins to grind, letting you feel her cock through her shorts, “you make me feel so good.”

“vi–” you feel fingers at the garters of your underwear, eyes widening once she pulls it down, pooling around your midthighs.

      well, good thing your libido is higher, yeah?

she pushes you towards the end of your bed, making you land on your knees. and without even a second thought, vi flattens her tongue on your pussy, toes curling at the sudden pleasure. her thumb circles your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, but her tongue, god, her tongue is doing wonders to you.

a squeal escapes your throat when you feel her push in, hands gripping the sheets. vi’s groans serve as a vibration and it adds to the pleasure she’s giving you. she pulls her tongue out, licking down to replace her thumb. she alternates between sucking and giving your clit kitten licks.

“ne-need you inside, vi,” your mewls and whimpers spur her on, eyes shut, “inside, hurry.”

      obeying like a soldier, she quickly slips two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, groaning at the warmness and tightness of you. vi curls her fingers, her tongue doing circles on your clit.

the feeling of the tip of her fingers prodding on your g-spot makes your entire body quiver in need. you wet your sheets with your drool, face digging deeper into, crescent-like marks appearing on your palms with how tight you grip.

vi is no better; her shorts are ruined, the head of her cock dripping with precum. her cock itself is already sensitive, pulsing and twitching inside the material, straining against it. 

“vi, baby,” your voice is muffled, barely gasping your words out, “need you inside. your cock.”

      you turn your head to stare at her—the big bad wolf of zaun is broken, disheveled: hair is tussled, body coated in sweat, eyes needy. she pulls down her shorts just enough for her dick to slip out, slapping against her navel, and the tip just a little bit shorter than the patch of red hair.

your eyes glint dangerously under the light, face holding a barely contained smirk; you’ve got her wrapped around your finger. 

she grips the base of her cock, slapping it on your wet cunt, making another whimper escape you. vi slowly slips the head of her cock, biting her lip at the sight of you welcoming her. you bury your face into the mattress once more, attempting to at least suppress your noises.

you can cum with how her dick slides into you, how she goes deeper and deeper, ever so slowly; letting you feel her thickness, the veins. 

vi whines when you clamp down on her the moment the back of your thighs meets her own, “baby, so tight.” she brings the hem of her tanktop to her mouth, biting it to keep it from covering your pussy, “gripping me so good.”

“move.”

      vi rocks her hips, you refuse to let go of her. her thumbs press down on your back dimples, using your body as leverage to pump your cunt on her dick. unconsciously, you spread your legs wider, arching your back a little more, pushing back against her. 

every time she pulls out, only to thrust back in, it makes your eyes roll. with the way she’s moving, you can feel it deep in your pussy, the head of her cock dragging itself on your walls—you’re already convulsing in pleasure.

vi changes her pace, faster and harder, slamming into you like she’s about to put a baby in you. she bites down into her shirt, seeing your slick on her dick encourages her to fuck you harshly.

your unfocused gaze lands back at her, “i think i’m about to cum already, baby,” vi’s surprised gaze, hazed even, bores into you, “mh-hmm… you make me feel so good, vi. such a good boy for me.”

      she shudders at your praise, abdomen flexing, her dick twitching inside of you. she pulls you up by your arms, your back still arching as she pushes her hips into yours, forcing her dick to go deeper.

she pulls out until her tip’s only what’s left inside of you before slamming back in. she wraps one hand around your throat, attacking your neck with bites and kisses, leaving marks that’ll last for days. 

you’re letting out sinful and unforgivable noises, throat beginning to get sore, but neither of you cares. you lean your head back on her shoulder, a hand going up to caress the back of her head, grasping her hair to ground yourself.

“make me cum, baby, rub my clit,” to help you get over the edge, she gives attention to your puffy clit, rubbing it, her cock splitting you thin, “just like that, vi.”

      vi’s shudders again, holding back her orgasm just for you. she speeds up, a yelp emitting from you. you are just so tight, so warm, so good. your pussy sucks her cock in like a succubus, you’re milking her.

she feels your chest heave excessively, broken whispers of her name—her eyes are tightly shut close, and she’s cumming. she cums like a hose, filling you up to the brim with her cum. with each spurt, she thrusts; you love it. you love it so much that you’re going over the edge along with her.

“baby, your pussy’s crushing me,” vi whimpered meekly, cock still cumming, “fuck, you feel so good.”

you laugh tiredly, enjoying how her dick spasms inside of you, your eyes still closed, “not my fault your dick is massive, honey.”

      her posture relaxes once she stops cumming, her arms hugging your torso, the both of you catching your breath before she’s separating herself from you. vi lifts her tanktop once again as she looks down, she pulls out slowly, groaning at the way your cunt grips her dick, or how a bridge of your cum and hers appears.

“you’re carrying me to the bathroom.”

[bobluvbot]

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader  summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment. 

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn. 

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home. 

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses). 

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space. 

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic. 

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words. 

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.  

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.” 

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides. 

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home. 

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work. 

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase. 

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully. 

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking. 

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide. 

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him. 

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress. 

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus. 

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left. 

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable. 

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask. 

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

[viking-raider]

Cake & Minis - Cotton Candy Fluff

Summary-> It's just you and Henry for his birthday. But that's all right, the two of you have cake and Warhammer Minis.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count-> 1.1k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Nerdy Banter

Inspiration-> It's Henry's 41st Birthday! Happy Birthday, Puppy!

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“So, Birthday Boy, what do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked, as you sat at the kitchen table with Henry, sipping your cup of tea, while he sat across from you, browsing the Highlander Script.

“I don’t know, babe.” He frowned, brow creasing at the page he was on. “Most of my family won’t be able to come in for any sort of celebration until next week. So, it’s just you and me.” He said, setting the script aside. “We could go out somewhere, have dinner.”

You studied him, holding his gaze. “You don’t want to though, do you?” You asked, voicing the glint you saw in his blue eyes.

“Not really.” He confessed, chewing on his lip.

Something came to you. “I might have an idea.” You said, excusing yourself and went upstairs, retrieving the gift you’d gotten Henry for his forty-first trip around the sun. “Why don’t you go ahead and open that.” You suggested, handing over the wrapped box and taking up your seat again.

Henry carefully removed the wrapping paper and a grin instantly touched his lips. “The new Blood Angels Minis.” He chuckled, opening the box to examine the little gray pieces.

“I could start your birthday cake and we could assemble those bad boys.” You suggested, pressing your lips together, while cocking your head at him.

“You want to spend my birthday painting Warhammer Minis with me?” He asked, quite skeptical.

“Yeah, if you want to, that is?” You replied, wide eyed. “I could leave you to your own devices with them. It was just a suggestion, I’ll do anything you want for your day, Puppy.”

A soft smile touched his face. “I’d love to spend my birthday assembling and painting minis with you. Especially if there’s cake eating involved.” He laughed, touched that you would express an interest in one of his hobbies, even for a day or few hours.

“It’s a deal then!” You beamed, excited. “I’ll get everything for your cake going, why don’t you get everything for the Mini building set up, then I’ll join you!”

“Sounds like a plan.” Henry nodded, taking up the Minis and headed for his man cave, where he had a whole station for building and painting his Minis.

Henry hummed happily to himself, bustling about the room, pulling out plastic containers, zip-lock bags and cases of items that contained glue, tools, paints and brushes of all kinds to cut out the pieces, assemble and paint them. He meticulously laid everything out, ready for the two of you to start the long process of building the six Blood Angel figures. Once that was done, he joined you in the kitchen.

“All ready.” He smiled, finding you in the process of mixing the red velvet batter; his favorite cake. “Do you want any help?” He asked, moving around the island to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Nope.” You replied, shaking your head, slightly resting back against him. “You just mind yourself and I’ll bake this.” You told him, rocking side to side with him.

“Do I get to lick the spoon?” He smirked, nuzzling the side of your face.

“Mmm, I suppose so.” You answered, filling the cake pan with the batter, before holding the spoon up for him.

“Mmm.” Henry hummed, flicking his tongue out over the back of the utensil, collecting the rich-red batter. “Tasty, can’t wait to have a slice.”

“I’m sure.” You smiled, wiggling out of his arms to slide the dish into the pre-heated oven. “Mini building time!” You beamed, setting the timer and placing it on the island. “Let’s go, my God Emperor.”

“As you wish, my little Primarch.” Henry laughed, heading for his man cave with you. “I’m sure you’ll end up painting one of them to look like Chaplain Rafael.”

“Burn the Heretic! Kill the Mutant! Purge the Unclean!” You declared, quoting your beloved Chaplain from the Blood Angels Space Marines chapter. “I still mourn your death, Rafael! Baal will remember you forever!”

Henry snorted, shaking his head at you. “What a nerd.” He teased, sitting down at the table.

“And unashamed of it!” You replied proudly. “Right, where are we starting, Puppy?” You asked, looking over the laid out items.

“We need to free the little buggers.” He told you, picking up a pair of, what looked like, well used nail clippers. “These are sprue cutters.” He explained to you, picking up one of the templates of Blood Angels. “All you have to do is snip this little bit here and set the piece aside, once it’s free.” He smiled over at you, brows lifted to make sure you understood.

“Super easy.” You smiled back at him.

Henry laughed, shaking his head and held the cutters out to you with a template. “It’s the only easy part in building these things. Other than buying them.” He quipped, grabbing a second pair.

The two of you took your time freeing the Space Marines from their confines, enjoying being close to each other and the sunny day that trickled through the tall windows around the room. When the cake timer went off in the kitchen, you shuttled off to check on it, pulling it out and setting it up to cool, before returning.

“So, are we going for authentic original Blood Angel look for their paint or are we going freestyle?” You asked, the tip of your tongue pressed to the corner of your upper lip as you used the sharp edge of an exacto knife to smooth out the edges of where the piece had been attached to the template.

“Hmm.” Henry hummed, sitting back in his seat, doing the same task. “I do normally prefer the traditional look for them.” He said, studying the arm he had between his fingers. “How about this? You paint three of the six your way and I’ll paint the other six my way?” He suggested, a little smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.

“Oooh.” You cooed, liking that idea. “You sure your perfectionism isn’t going to drive you nuts?”

“I’m sure.” He assured you. “I looked forward to it. Our little army.”

It was long and tedious work, but neither of you cared, especially not Henry. It filled him with a bubbly happiness to look across his Warhammer table to see you zoned in on gluing together a model, shifting its little body until you finally got it in the pose that satisfied you. You paused long enough at one point, to put the icing on his cake, slicing you both a piece and bringing it back to your work station, singing happy birthday to him.

“I hope your new trip around the sun is as memorable, healthy and successful as your previous.” You toasted him, placing a tender kiss to his curls as he blew out the candle you lit.

“As long as I have you and Kal on the journey with me,” Henry replied, pulling you into his lap. “I know it will be.” He smiled, kissing you on the lips.

[hvlplvss]

| have yourself a merry little christmas

| colby brock x reader

summary: in which colby brock has never liked the idea of christmas. he’s never enjoyed it or wanted to celebrate by decorating. but his girlfriend loves the holiday. decorating the house in anyway she could. but a few words may cause colby’s hate for christmas to melt.

warnings: angst, reader cries, colby says a few means things lol, happy ending though !!

authors note: this is inspired by a steve harrington fic i saw last xmas, but the author has deactivated their account!!! but credits to them for this idea :)

colby brock has never really liked christmas. he always thought of it as a burden. having to decorate the house and be all cheery for an entire month, just to celebrate one day.

he didn’t understand why he hated it so much; but he just did. he couldn’t get behind the idea of christmas, or decorating, or christmas trees. you name it, colby brock probably didn’t like it.

however his girlfriend y/n, adored christmas. it was her favourite time of the year and it had been ever since she was young. she loved decorating and making the holiday special for the younger ones in her family. she loved the presents, she loved the food and the whole idea.

so when christmas was quickly approaching, y/n couldn’t help but speak about the holiday. she would sometimes speak to colby about it, despite knowing he didn’t love the day. but her and sam would talk about it as sam would listen to the girl yap about christmas.

seen as it was their first christmas together and y/n had come to realise that colby did in fact not like christmas, she made it her goal to make him enjoy it this year.

y/n had already begun preparing little things for christmas. it was only the middle of november and she had already planned the christmas tree, the lights which she’d put up outside, the gifts she was getting everyone. and by everyone, it meant everyone.

anyone who she would call a friend, or even a civil friendship, would receive a gift from the girl. wether it be bought or handmade, she’d make sure everyone got something this christmas.

but as the days slowly crept round to the first of december, y/n was ecstatic.

colby’s eyes slowly opened, squinting due to the lack of sleep the boy received last night after coming home from a meeting at silly o’clock in the morning.

he noticed the empty space in the bed beside him. y/n wasn’t there. which was strange and unusual as usually the girl was the last one to wake up between the two off them.

he reached for his phone checking the time, which read 6:37am.

what was y/n doing? there was no way she chose to be up at this time in the morning. it’s not like she had anything special going on today.

colby gave himself a minute to fully wake up, stretching his legs and arms and closing his eyes one last time before sliding out the side of the bed.

colby walked downstairs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. this is why she was awake so early. he thought.

the whole downstairs of the house was now silver with christmas decorations. tinsel, little trinkets of decoration, a christmas countdown which had rotating blocks so you could change it every morning.

“y/n?” colby called out. there were a few moments of rustling and a box being put down.

y/n came into view from the kitchen door, adorned in fluffy socks and a big christmas jumper that was many sizes too big for her.

“what’s going on?” colby asked, “why does the house look so ‘christmassy’” colby shuddered at the word as though it was bad for him to say it.

“it’s the first of december, colbs!” y/n beamed, “it’s finally christmas time!”

colby strolled into the kitchen, looking at what y/n was doing.

she was baking. baking christmas cookies. and she might as well be feeding the entire state with the amount she had made.

“what are all these for?” he asked.

“christmas cookies! i’m gonna take them to the nursing home,” she explained, “i’ve done it every year!” she pulled a rack out the oven and placed even more cookies on the side. “you don’t think i’ve gone overboard right?”

“what? no? i think it’s sweet, y/n,”

“okay, good. i mean if i’ve made to many they can always have two each, or maybe even three!”

colby placed a hand on his girlfriends cheek, “hey, calm down. it’ll be fine, i promise you,” he spoke softly, “but maybe just also calm down on all the decorations, yeah?”

y/n faltered at his words, “you don’t like them?” she asked disheartened.

“no, i-i do. just… just not use to it, yeah?” colby answered quickly, not wanting to upset her.

she nodded in response, looking back over her cookies once more. “right, i’m going to let these cool down, then get ready and go out to give them to the nursing home and then come home and decorate the tree!” she planned.

colby sighed, trying to hide his slight annoyance that he was coming to terms with. he loved the girl, but he hated this christmas spirit she had.

y/n had arrived home after successfully handing out her christmas cookies, 174 cookies to be exact, (she now realised she may have gone overboard).

y/n walked through the front door, taking her shoes off, leaving them next to colby’s.

as she strolled through the house, she arrived into the living room where colby was sat with his laptop.

she stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“hey colbs,” she smiled.

colby looked up to look at his girlfriend, he smiled back at her and kissed her lips. “how was it?” he asked.

“good! they were happy to see me again! said i should go see them more often,” she told colby.

“bless them. they probably don’t get many visitors so they’re probably pleased to see you!” he answered, to which y/n nodded.

colby turned back to his laptop as y/n had walked away into the corner of the living room.

she opened a box which held various christmas tree decorations. she’d used the box for as many christmases as she could remember, it even had some of the baubles that her parents had bought when she was a toddler.

y/n slowly began decorating the tree, adding the lights, the baubles, the tinsel and so on.

but it took her quite some time due to her being an extreme perfectionist and if things weren’t equal on the tree, she’d restart or take the last few things off and then redo them.

so to say it took y/n a long time to decorate the tree was an understatement. she was an hour and 45 minutes in and she still hadn’t finished.

colby was still sat in the same spot on the couch, growing slightly agitated with his girlfriend.

she was talking to herself, muttering and whispering ideas. and as harsh as it sounds, she was really getting on his nerves. he was just trying to edit a video for the channel, but y/n couldn’t be quiet.

her voice broke him out of his thoughts, “colbs? which do you think looks better? the silver bauble or the gold bauble?” he looked up, glaring, but y/n was too carried away to even notice the change in his demeanour.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “silver?” colby answered, looking back down at his laptop.

y/n turned back to the christmas tree, deciding wether to go with her boyfriends advice or not.

y/n had officially finished decorating the christmas tree, after nearly two and a half hours, she only had one job left to do which was the star on top.

but the tree seemed to have quite a big height advantage on the girl, so she turned back around to colby.

“colbs, can you help me put the star on?” he tried to pretend that he hadn’t heard y/n, hoping that she would leave it and work the problem out herself; but she didn’t. “colbs?”

colby’s head snapped up, “what?!”

“can you help me put the star on, please?” she asked sheepishly.

“look!” colby began, placing his laptop off of his lap, “i’m trying to work, okay? but you are just constantly talking or asking me something about christmas or the decorations! when i don’t even care! i’m sick of all this christmas shit, y/n!”

y/n’s eyes glossed over at his harsh voice and choice of words and her bottom lip quivered.

“oh,” she spoke quietly.

colby could see what he had done. why did he get angry? why did he yell at her? he made her upset and he could tell.

y/n turned around and placed the star down back in the box, then turning to walk out of the living room, “y/n! wait- i didn’t-” but y/n shook her head and walked out of the room, heading upstairs.

colby shook his head and sighed, “fuck,” well done colby, well done.

y/n had been significantly quieter that day. when colby came upstairs for bed, y/n didn’t speak unless colby spoke to her first. she hadn’t even left the room due to how embarrassed she felt.

but the following day, y/n was still asleep when colby woke up. so, he quietly got dressed, trying not to wake y/n up, knowing it’d be an awkward encounter for the couple. plus colby also wanted to go food shopping as they began running out of food in their fridge and should stock up before everything runs out in the stores.

so while colby was out, y/n had gone about the house and took down each decoration. she didn’t want colby to feel annoyed by all the christmas things.

she just wanted to warm him up to the idea of christmas, but from what he said last night, it clearly wasn’t working.

taking down the christmas tree was way quicker than putting it up, y/n came to realise.

once everything had been tucked back into their boxes, y/n had gone back upstairs to just lay down in bed. ever since colby said that, y/n had felt a lack of energy. she was hurting. she was so excited for her first christmas with colby, but it wasn’t going the way she hoped.

sam had stopped by the couples house, dropping off the other laptop they shared for editing videos. the boy let himself in as he’d been allowed a key to the house, due to his frequent visits.

“colby? y/n?” he called out.

y/n walked out of her room grudgingly, walking down the stairs. “hi,” she said.

“hey,” he answered, “are you okay?”

he could tell something was up. she wasn’t being cheery like she had been on the lead up to december, or when she spoke about how excited she was for it to be december soon enough. she nodded.

“where’s all the decorations?” sam asked, looking around the house, “i thought you said you were gonna decorate on the first, and it’s now the second?”

y/n looked down, trying to come up with an excuse, “oh, i just had a really busy day yesterday, i didn’t find the time to,” she lied.

sam nodded, not believing her in the slightest. “i was coming to give colby this, but i’ll just tell him to drop by before he comes home,” y/n nodded, “call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“yeah,” she muttered, “bye sam,”

“bye y/n,” he turned back around, closing the door behind him.

sam hopped into his car, pulling his phone out of his pocket and going to message sam.

stop by mine later, need to give you the other laptop and also need to speak to you

colby had just arrived outside of sam’s appartment. he stepped out the car and walked to the house, opening the door.

“sam!” colby yelled. the said boy walked out from the kitchen and to colby, “you alright?” colby asked.

“yeah, just need to ask a few things and also give you the laptop,” sam answered, walking back into the kitchen, colby following his trail.

“yeah, what’s up?”

sam sighed, “why is your house not decorated?” sam asked. colby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “i mean, y/n wouldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to decorate and how she was gonna do it on the first, but when i stopped by earlier there was nothing,”

“wait- what do you mean, there was nothing?” colby asked, slightly puzzled.

“i stopped by, and there were no decorations. like at all. it looked like your everyday house. no signs of christmas, at all,” sam explained.

colby thought about it for a moment, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “shit,” he muttered, placing his head in his hands.

“what?”

colby sighed, “i got angry yesterday, when y/n was decorating. she kept asking me questions and i was really rude and i yelled at her. i saw her face, sam. she was nearly crying, i mean she probably did cry, but she kept it hidden from me,” colby explained, “fuck! i feel so awful, sam,”

sam shook his head, “you should have heard her before. she rarely spoke to you about it cause she knew you hated it, so she’d talk to me about christmas things. but she was so excited for it, colby. you’ve messed this up, bro,”

“i know…” he sighed, “i just- i’m not use to it, and i know that doesn’t excuse it, because it doesn’t, i shouldn’t have gotten angry,”

“glad you realised that!” sam answered.

tomorrow was christmas. the day y/n was once looking forward to, but now didn’t even want to hear anything about it. she’d gone to bed quite early on christmas eve due to working all day.

colby had said he’d be up to bed in a few hours as he had a few things left to catch up on, like meetings and editing things and so on.

but colby didn’t come to bed until 3:27 in the morning.

colby spent six hours decorating downstairs. decorating the house how y/n had once made it. making it christmassy. how a house should be.

he even went shopping to buy all the food he would need for the dinner the next day. especially as the boy had invited everyone and everybody round for christmas dinner.

he had been so busy that time went quicker than he thought it had. he didn’t even notice when the clock struck 3am how long he’d actually been busy for.

and as he reached to put the star on the tree, he remembered what he said that day where he ruined y/n’s christmas cheer. but he hoped this would bring it back.

sure, colby still didn’t understand the whole christmas idea, but if it made his girlfriend happy, then he would learn about the christmas spirit.

when y/n woke up that dreaded morning, she noticed that colby was missing. she assumed he’d left as maybe he felt awkward, or that he’d gone to visit sam early.

but when y/n actually came round and fully woke up, she noticed the smell coming from downstairs. y/n furrowed her brows in confusion, so she stood up out from her bed and walked out of her room.

as she looked down the stairs she realised what colby had done.

the entire house had become ‘christmassy’. colby had redone all of y/n’s decorations and exactly how she had done them. everything was the same.

“colbs?” y/n called out.

colby rounded the corner of the kitchen, a smile playing on his lips, “d’you like it?” he asked.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully, running to him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“i love it, colbs. thank you,” she whispered.

“no, thank you,” he said, placing his hands on her face, making her look at him, “i was horrible to you that day. you were so excited about christmas and i ruined that, i’m so sorry,” he apologised.

y/n leaned in to kiss colby’s lips gently, planting a soft kiss to them. “i forgive you,” she replied, “but pleaseeeee can i give you your gifts now? i’ve been waiting for months to give you them!”

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

-

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

-

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[rascal-xo]

I genuinely like to think that Ghost has a massive sweet tooth. It’s always the people you don’t expect imo

Could you imagine reader casually bakes an apple pie one day to let ghost try and he goes MENTAL like I’m talking bro is hearing colors

I just envision him as a big hulking gorilla scarfing down his lovers pie and having crumbs all over his face. Aaaahhh my sweet big bad boy

Sweet Indulgence |Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader|

Chapter Summary: The one where his woman and a sweet and simple pie is Simon Riley's ultimate weakness.

Warnings: Sweet tooth rotting fluff, Domestic!Simon

Word Count: 819

A/N: Thank you for the amazing request!!

You carefully mix the flour and butter, the sweet scent of cinnamon and caramelized apples filling the room as you work. The breeze flowing in from the open windows brings in the fresh aroma of blooming flowers and fills your senses with the promise of spring.

Simon has been off on leave for the first few weeks of spring. The weight of the world is on his shoulders when he's on missions with he team, but being at your shared home is nothing less than heavenly for the Lieutenant.

Simon is out in the yard, planting flowers in your shared garden. You smile to yourself, catching a glimpse of your husband bare faced and hunched over on his knees in the grass, carefully tending to the pink lilies, completely lost in the peacefulness of his own home.

As you finish preparing the apple pie, you slide it into the oven and set the timer. You take a moment to peek out the window and watch Simon in the yard, the gentle breeze ruffling his blond hair, which turns golden under the sun.

You grab a glass of cold lemonade and make your way to the yard to join him. The sky is painted with hues of pink and orange, the air now a few degrees cooler as the evening approaches.

"Hey there, soldier," you say as you approach him, placing a kiss on his cheek. Simon turns his head, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"Hi, beautiful." he replies with a smile. "Missed me?"

"Just wanted to come and see you up close," you say, taking a seat next to him in the grass. "And to bring you some lemonade."

Simon takes the glass from your hand and takes a sip, his eyes closing as he savors the cool drink. "Mmm, this is perfect," he says, setting the glass down. Simon wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him to leave a kiss in your hair.

"The gardens coming together nice." You notice, looking at his handiwork.

"Yeah, I think it's looking pretty good," he says, his gaze lingering on the flowers. "But it's nothing compared to the beauty that's sitting right next to me."

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, leaning into his embrace. "You're such a smooth talker," you tease, looking up at him with a grin.

Simon chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only for you, my love." You leave him to his work, with a sigh of contentment, you take the pie out of the oven to cool and head upstairs to take a quick shower. The warm water soothing your muscles as you let your mind wander.

After your shower, you towel off and change into a comfortable sundress, the fabric light and airy against your skin. As you make your way down the stairs, you can smell the sweet aroma of the pie filling the house, making your mouth water. "Si, the pies done-" you begin to call out but stop in your tracks when you make it to the kitchen.

As you enter the kitchen, you see Simon sitting at the counter with a slice of the apple pie in front of him. His broad shoulders are hunched forward, and he's digging into the pie with a fork, his movements almost primal as he savors the sweet treat. Crumbs and bits of apple are scattered all over his face, and you can't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Was gonna say that the pies ready, but seems like you figured that one out." You tease, making your way over to him.

Simon turns his head, smiling in surprise when he sees you. "Hey, I was just testing it out," he says, trying to wipe the crumbs off his face with the back of his hand. "You've outdone yourself, darling. This is the second best thing I've ever tasted." You chuckle and shake your head at his eyebrow raise, reaching for a napkin to help him clean up.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, taking a seat next to him. "But you have to save some for me, you know." Simon grins, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "I don't know, it's so good, I might just have to finish it all."

You playfully swat his arm, rolling your eyes. "Don't you dare, Simon Riley." He chuckles and leans in for a kiss, the taste of the apple pie still lingering on his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it, my love," he says, pulling you in for a warm embrace.

"I'll save you a slice, I promise." As you settle into his arms, the warmth of his embrace and the sweet aroma of the pie filling the air, you can't help but feel grateful for the simple moments of happiness and peace that you share with your husband, even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.

A/N: Domestic Simon >>>>>

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 4

cw: pure smut, maybe heavy for some, fluff at the end.

“hak–!” you yelped, feeling the sting on your ass.

currently, you laid across his lap, naked and your ass bare. it was pretty red, almost bruised and practically hot. and it was in the same spot you were in. even though hakari was sitting back, practically manspreading, he had a wide lap.

“count the number or ill restart.” he threatened, rubbing your poor abused ass cheeks. you were given 25 slaps… and only on ten. that fucker knows he has thick and heavy hands.

“ten…” you said, how pitiful.

another slap, had you biting your lip and whimpering. “eleven!” you yelped again, feeling him rubbing his hand on your cheeks, giving you some form of relief. “baby please!”

“baby please.” he mocked back, slapping your ass again. “cmon babydoll, keep up.” he said, mockingly.

“twelve!!” you whined, squirming and kicking your feet slightly. only causing hakari to grow annoyed and yank you back, dragging his thick fingers up and down your puffy and soaked slit, exhaling as he felt his cock finally get a little thicker, too.

“fuck , mama…” he whispered in your ear, adding another digit to rub your slit. “pussy is practically droolin for me, huh?” he said tauntingly.

“is too much.. spanking too much..” you said, feeling and knowing that you have to wear loose clothes now, because your ass would be raw.

hakari flipped you on his lap, holding you while he kissed your cheeks stained with sweat and tears while rubbing circles on your puffy clit. it made your hips buck against his fingers.

“poor baby needing her pussy finger fucked, huh? how do you ask?” he said, making you look at him. he plunged a finger into your precious pussy, feeling how warm and juicy you were, you really hadnt had any action in a year? fuck he could tell why you always acted out, that bitch boy boyfriend couldnt put it on you.

“please..” you said, only able to muster that. how pathetic, because you were just talking big girl shit a couple minutes ago, what happened to that? you never knew. all you did know was that your was was raw and tingling , and hakari is like a personal oven at four hundred degrees right now.

“ill let it slide.” and he curled his fingers, only moving the tips of his fingers like he beckons your g spot to come to him. “so what are we gunna stop doin now..?” he whispered in your ear, feeling his body heat get even hotter.

“fuckfuckfuckfu-“ you said repeatedly, eyes threatening to roll back but only snapping back to hakari when he speaks. “not to- oh shit..– not to talk back– ha fuck!” you moaned out, legs trying to close back together until hakari separates them. he was always so big and strong, he just made you feel weak with him.

“yeah, baby. was talking all big and bad, and now look at you.” he said, with a hint of sass and rolling his eyes. he kisses on your neck, sucking so slightly and his fingers were vicious, faster than they were before. he felt something familiar , like he knew it was his fever coming hard, those fevers as if he was going to land a huge loan and win even bigger.

“i cumin! i cumin—!” you chanted, holding onto his beefy arm, hiding your face in it, trying to close your legs but for no avail, just to have hakari slam them open—

JACKPOT!

you came with a cry, body convulsing and the arch of your back could make him feral, feeling your walls spasm on his fingers as he rubbed your clit in circles and sucked on your neglected tits. you finally caught your breath after some cooing and praises from him, along the lines of “good fuckin girls” or “thats my girl, thats it.”

you tried to close your legs, until he slotted himself between you as you lay on your back.

“uh uh, i ain done with this pussy yet.” he said, freeing his cock and him hissing at the cool air. he rubbed your hips, to at least ease your body before he fucked you. your body was so fuckin pretty, he just doesn’t understand how you havent been touched in a year.

he kisses your plump lips, biting so softly and low growls coming from him. he kisses your neck, down to your collarbone, to your chest and your mounds.. your stomach, and your little tummy where your poor uterus was. he puts his forehead against yours, as he slides the fat of his cock in.

holy fuck did you not forget that.

you both had a small moan, remembering when you both were younger and fucked on the daily, at most three to four times a day. he wasnt even in all the way.

“pussy remembers who fucks it the best, already clamping down on my cock and im barely all the way in.” he snickered , looking down at you. “you wan me to show you where it is, mama?” you nodded.

“okay babydoll, this right here…” he slightly pulls his hips back, and slams it back into you, watching you throw your head back and moan so loud. “is your cervix.” he says, thrusting slower and moans a bit, trying to not get too crazy with it since he basically had to take your virginity back. “fuck you feel too good..” he whines.

“fuckohmygoddaddy–“ you whimper, gripping his shoulder with your nails and biting your lip, barely able to keep your thighs apart. you feel hakari kiss on your neck, groaning whenever he thrusts faster and hits that gummy spot. “oh shit..!”

“there you go.. take all that dick im givin you..” he said, moving your attention back to him. he looks you in your eyes as he thrusts, trying to maintain eye contact. only for him to fail and roll his eyes back. “huuuuuhhh fuck!” he groans out, pressing his forehead against yours and have some combination of thrusting and grinding together, drawing a whine from you.

“kin!—“ you moan out, coming on his cock, rolling your eyes back as your toes curl. the convulsions of your pretty pussy pushes hakari more to his climax, his hips thrusting into you faster with vigorous motion and him growing desperate was apparent.

“fucken fuck!” he shouts, pulling out and jerking himself until he feels his seed spurt out on your tummy, a little on your breasts, and just barely your chin.

you were barely conscious at this point, only just regaining consciousness and feeling a warm rag on your soft tummy, causing you to flinch.

“relax.. its just me ma.” he says, cleaning your body and wiping your pussy down ever so gently. youre so glad you taught him how to wipe you. “imma get you some clothes and im gunna take you to get some food.” he says, already half dressed.

you nod, getting a sip of your now room temperature water and sipping it. “ can we also go to wally world?” and both of you start grinning.

“oh shit!” you whisper, running into aisle h after you were just in l. walmart was your wally world, and you both always act a damn fool.

“y/n!” hakari laughs, trying his best to hold it in and holding you. “oh youre a fuckin moron.” he laughs, kissing your forehead several times. both of you being in the toy slash athletic department, looking at whatever to play when you made it back to your apartment.

you pick up a random toy, looks electronic and it somehow turns on, startling you and you throw it back and it makes a loud “CLANK!” hakari bursts into a laughing fit, as you walk away, pretending you dont know what just happened. hakari comes up behind you, hugging you from behind as he towers over you and kisses you.

“get off!” you say, because hes a giant and youre little, and hes heavy. you giggle, holding him back.

“not in a million years, babydoll.” he says, using his finger to tilt your head up and kiss you. “lets get some banquet and call it a night?” he says, raising an eyebrow. you know exactly what hes talkng about, causing you to swat at him.

“fuckin up my day!” you say, mocking that one tiktok sound and you both made it home by at least eleven fourteen at night, crashing on the couch.

hope you guys enjoyed this one… i opened up a can of worms.

[chronically-ghosted]

my home is you

rating: general

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you warm frankie up after he stays out in the cold.

warnings: snuggling, neck kisses, absurdly large sweaters, family disagreements, mentions of financial hardships, the weakness of southerners when it comes to the cold, mentions of PTSD and treatment, discussions of a dead relative, but honestly just lots of fluff

a/n: @maggiemayhemnj it's here, thank you for your patience! and thank you to everyone who sent in prompts for my mini-challenge, Merry Thanksgiving Nonsense 2023 -- I had so much fun! this can be take place in the same universe as "in another life", but it doesn't have to!

also shout out to the boy irl who inspires all of this 🤍

There are certain things you pick up about a person after two years of marriage. 

In certain cases, you might learn how they prefer their socks to be folded up, or what brand of detergent they think smells the best. Maybe their eating habits after a bad day, or how quickly they go through shampoo. 

After marrying Frankie and listening to his endless business out and around the house, you can pinpoint his moods with startling accuracy based on what exactly he is working on. If it’s your car or his, he’s worried about something, more precise than any mechanic you could ever afford. If he’s working on rebuilding the engine Benny asked him to check out, then he’s focused, in a good but distant mood (you always get nervous when he hoists five hundred pounds above him with a crank) and you know he needs that time in his head. However - for some reason you may ask him about one day or you might just accept it as one of those things as he is the way that he is - when Frankie’s pissed, he works on the roof. 

Maybe because he gets to beat the shit out of something, but when you come home and he’s up there pounding off some rotten shingles, you know he’s had a very bad day.

Which is what you find after you pull up in the driveway from the grocery store one afternoon. Somehow in the hour and half it took you to get eggnog, butter, and melting chocolate (Santi’s annual Christmas bash only a week away), something had really set your husband off. You’d never seen someone so angrily staple down Plastic Santa and his reindeer before. 

So, you’d gone inside without calling out to him, knowing it was better to simply let him be.

That was over an hour ago. 

That was also when the temperature was in the sixties. The sun long gone, the air rapidly cooling down and with an oncoming and sudden wind, you wonder if it will be you who knocks some sense into him, or the weather. 

As you take your freshly-made eggnog bread out of the oven, you hear the clatter of his metal ladder sliding close. You rush to wash off your heads and clean down the counter as the garage door cranks up, his tool box jingling when it’s returned to the shelf. You hear the back door open and you sprint into the laundry room. He might head directly for a shower, in which case, what you’re doing will be rather irrelevant, but you desperately want that first smile, that thing that’ll make him grin and let the tension loose from his shoulders. On your toes, you move back a few towels and ugly Christmas sweaters you bring out only once a year in search of what you’re looking for that you bring out once in a blue moon. You find it and grin. 

You didn’t miss your chance. Frankie, with his head tipped back on the couch, eyes closed, arms locked over each other, is pink. Pink in the cheeks from exertion. Pink on his nose, ears, and hands from the cold. A true Floridan at heart, his body apparently shut down when exposed to temperatures below what you’d experience in the Caribbean. Couldn’t even make it to the shower to warm up, poor thing.

As quietly as you can, you sneak over to him, unfurling what you have in your hands. The instant before you sit in his lap, you see the tiniest quirk of a smile pluck up his mouth.

You open the triple XL sweater in your hands over his head. It practically falls over his shoulders so, without much difficulty, you curl up under the sweater and join him in the darkness. 

The enclosed space brings his cold nose close to yours and you kiss him gently, right on that pink flush. You rub your hands over his forearms, his skin icy to the touch. You can feel the chill under that ridiculously thin red t-shirt and you shuffle closer, hoping your body heat trapped so close to his will warm him up. In the half-dark, the scent of sticky, masculine sweat permeates the little air you have, dampening the pine smell of the sweater that you never can manage to wash out. 

You wrinkle your nose. “You smell.” 

Silence. And then –

He chuckles. “I know. But you smell like cinnamon.” 

Since you first pulled you both under, he moves. He unlocks his arms and you curl even closer. God, he smells much worse when you tuck your head into his neck, the curls pressed against his skin damp, the pulse in his throat strong, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. With a silent, long inhale, Frankie puts his big palms on your thighs, then your hips, and on an exhale, he pulls you into his chest, the bristles of his graying beard warm and scratching against your forehead. His fingers sit like external ribs – heavy, strong, protecting your heart. 

“Is there a reason you put your granddad’s sweater over us?” He asks after a moment, his voice rich and sweet like caramel. The sweater had been enormous on your granddad when he was alive, but he could never find a reason to get rid of it. You spent many Christmases making cookies or putting up the ornaments on the tree while he wore it and when he died, it was one of the only things you took from his house. 

“You looked cold,” you murmur into his neck. He hums his agreement and you get your wish: beneath your chest, you feel the anger and tension and shitty day he’s had flush out of him with every breath. 

 Your fingers, squeezed between his chest and yours, dig into that damp t-shirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Talking – never was Frankie’s strong suit, before and especially after he joined the military and learned to take everything on the chin. 

But, over the years and by carefully coming together over the landmines of the past, he started talking to you. And then he started talking to a therapist who specializes in PTSD. And then he started talking more and better and quite often with you. 

But it’s not easy. It doesn’t come naturally. He knows he’s safe, he knows you're safe, but there is an active choice made every time he opens his mouth. 

“My mom.” He says quietly. “She doesn’t understand why we aren’t flying up there for Christmas. And she doesn’t understand why I won’t let her pay for our plane tickets.” 

You squeeze your fingers, kiss his neck distractedly. Ever since you bought the house together, money’s been extraordinarily tight. You had suggested neither of you get gifts for each other this year, but Frankie wouldn’t hear of it. 

Frankie also loathes accepting money from anyone.

You inhale and Frankie does too, your minds silently on the same thing, the same anxious weight pulling you together in ways you couldn’t quite put into words. 

In your vows you talked about for better or worse. This is worse. 

Two years later, you redefine what partner means every single day with him. 

“I hope next year it’ll be different,” you say to his chin. You actually really like his mom, his family, and your stomach knots at the thought of them being disappointed in you. 

You’re starting to sweat beneath the sweater, up against the damp heat of your husband.

“It will.” Anger gone, he’s your sweet, committed Frankie again. The man that you put your faith and trust in time and time again, and would do it without question for the rest of your life. His palm rubs warm stripes up and down your back. “I know it will.” 

You sit in the darkness and the silence and the warmth of having a giant sweater tucked up around you and you listen to the beating of his heart. A sound you’ve found you can’t sleep without. 

“Thank you for checking on me.” 

He sounds so genuinely grateful your eyes flush hot for a moment. 

“Of course, baby.” You kiss his cheek, the wiry brush of his beard. “Always.”

He squeezes you extra tight when you make that promise. 

Always. 

Your heart beats, your eyes flutter shut. He breathes like he is at peace, with you wrapped up in his arms. 

Always. 

“I made an extra loaf,” you say after a long, content stretch of silence. You grin, even though he can’t see. 

“Yeah? The eggnog bread?”

“Mhm hmm. But you have to shower first.”

You giggle as Frankie pins your thighs to his hips as he swings onto his feet. The loose sweater finally falls over his head but you can barely fit through the head hole. 

“A shower it is, then.”

He walks on memory as you fight through the rolls of material. Finally and by some miracle, you get the sweater off you both as Frankie makes it into the bedroom. 

His hair is sticking up, sweat dried and statick-y, when he drops you onto the bed.

You didn’t know it is possible to carry the weight of the love you feel for Frankie and not burst into a million pieces.

You giggle as he pats down your own floating strands of hair and then tucks it behind your ears, his eyes finding yours. 

Beneath his gaze, you feel gigantic and small, shy and confident, terrified and pleased – all at once. You can’t possibly be the thing that fills his eyes with so much love.

“I love you,” he says, simply, obviously, so much and so little. 

“I love you too.” 

He tugs you to your feet and kisses you, a welcoming, familiar glide of his lips against yours. He keeps you close when he pulls back.

“I’ve had a very shitty day and you’re the only thing that makes it better. So, you’re going to take a shower with me and then we're going to watch any Christmas movie you want, okay, baby?” 

You swallow the tightness in your throat, the wetness in your eyes. His hands feel so big around your cheeks. 

There is quite literally nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Okay.”  

[its-time-to-write]

hi my lovely !!

i’m such a big fan of your jamie work and was wondering if you would consider writing about jamie using bantr ??

like she works at richmond and jamie had like a massive light bulb moment when he realised who he’s chatting to but also that he may be are falling in love

totally get if not on your radar !! x

Here you go!! I haven’t written a fic with Bantr yet, so this was fun!!

not saying you’re in love with me 

Dating apps aren’t really your thing. But to be honest, are they anyone’s thing? Or are they like resumes, where everyone just pretends they’re easy and lies about their qualifications?

It doesn’t matter, because you’re on one anyway. 

Keeley Jones (damn her) had hunted you down and practically begged you to sign up for Bantr. 

“Look, you’re young, sweet, and mad fit. Can’t have a bunch of hot footballers in the app and no ladies!”

You had groaned as you put the chicken for today’s lunch in the oven. It’s not easy being Nelson Road’s on-campus chef. There are diet plans to follow, and a million hungry boys all the time. 

It also means you can’t escape Keeley when you’re in the middle of prepping lunch. As soon as it’s served and cleaned up, you can go home. But for now, you’re at her mercy. 

“Keeley, just because I’m the only twenty-something girl on staff here doesn’t mean that I want to date a footballer. Go bother Samantha. She’s what, thirty and goes on dates every weekend? She’s a perfect candidate.”

Keeley pouts. “I’ll set up your whole profile for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’re talking to someone, just if you like it, yeah? I’ll help you with meals for a week.”

You point your tongs at her. “You will not even think about touching my food for the rest of eternity,” you warn. 

“So you’ll do it, then?” Keeley asks, giving you the full puppy dog expression. 

You consider for a moment. You’re single at the moment, and have been for a good long while. It wouldn’t hurt to be on Bantr and anyway, it’s not like anyone will know who you are. 

“You’re sure it’s anonymous, then?” you ask. 

Keeley jumps up and claps her hands with a squeal. “Totally! Oh my god, I’m so excited for you. I’ll set it up right now. Give me your phone.”

You point to your bag. “It’s in there. Passcode is-”

“Already know it,” Keeley interrupts. You’re not going to question how or why, you just nod and throw your gloves in the trash. 

“Hairnet looks great on you, Keels,” you say conversationally. 

“Fuck you,” she replies, not looking up from your phone. “And- done! You’re ready to start bantering. Ooh, there are a LOT of men nearby! Wonder how many of them are part of AFC Richmond?”

You shoot her a glare, but she just grins. “Put my phone away,” you tell her. 

She slides it back into your bag. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if you like it. I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” she promises. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Sure thing.”

—

STRIKE09 has sent you a message

You grab your phone as soon as it lights up. Keeley’s going to be fucking thrilled that you’re enjoying Bantr this much, and that you’ve been chatting with someone for a week. 

You open your phone to your chat. 

STRIKE09: finally off work

STRIKE09: how’s ur day

STRIKE09: burn anything?

BAKERGURL22: that was a one time thing!!

BAKERGURL22: work was fine. got off early so I could try a new recipe at home

BAKERGURL22: hbu?

STRIKE09: not bad. lads stole all my lynx so im going to boots to get more

BAKERGURL22: u really know how to romance a girl

STRIKE09: ah shit yea should probably try harder to impress u

You chuckle. Whoever STRIKE09 is, he’s been impressing you from the first day. Always asking questions about you, but never too invasive. Flirty, but not over the top. You’d set your age range in 20s-30s, so you were relatively confident this wasn’t some old creep. 

Your phone buzzes so you look down again.

STRIKE09: what did u make today?

BAKERGURL22: lemon cupcakes. not very healthy but super delicious

BAKERGURL22: I have to cook all this healthy stuff at work and sometimes I want to unwind and bake something with too much sugar ya know?

STRIKE09: bet theyre mint

BAKERGURL22: no they’re lemon

STRIKE09: oi, we got a comedian

BAKERGURL22: look, I had to make plain chicken and a salad with fucking olive oil as a dressing today

BAKERGURL22: it was so gross. I apologized 2 the staff but like, it’s what they all requested

BAKERGURL22: worried im gonna be banned from cooking ever again

Across Richmond, Jamie Tartt nearly drops his phone in Boots. He knows exactly who the girl on the other end of this conversation is. The question is, do you know who he is?

He’d assume no, based on the way you’ve been cagey about work. Not private enough though, because he remembers you making a face earlier that afternoon as you said, “Sorry this lunch is such shit, but I guess you all probably don’t care. I swear I’m a better cook than this.”

Jamie had smiled and kept moving, but he’d been thinking about your scrunched nose all day and the sweet way you said sorry.

What are the odds that he matched with someone who worked in the same building as him?

Apparently pretty high.

Jamie’s not really present the entire time it takes him to check out. He’s grateful that the combination of his hoodie plus the tired teen checking him out means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. 

He kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch as soon as he gets home, trying to figure out what to say. Should he say anything? What if he does and you decide you don’t like him?

He shrugs it off and puts his phone away for the night.

—

You frown at your phone for the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Keeley asks from her position at the coffee pot.

“Haven’t heard back from my Bantr match. It’s really strange. We were talking last night and then he just stopped responding. He at least sends me a good morning message, but I haven’t even gotten that.”

Keeley gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babes. Ghosting is an epidemic. Have you looked at any of your other matches?”

You shake your head and say, “Nah, I wasn’t really interested in them. I really fucking liked this guy. He was sweet, funny, and so good at flirting. I dunno, maybe it’s easier to be like that because it’s all through a screen, but it felt like we had an actual connection.”

“Well, you don’t have to message anyone else if you don’t want to. You can delete the app altogether.”

You say, “Thanks, Keels,” then go back to chopping vegetables. One bright spot of the day is that lunch will be less shitty than yesterday.

You slide the vegetables in the salad just in time. You hear the familiar rumble of AFC Richmond coming in from the field so you plaster a smile on your face and get ready to pass them their lunch.

—

The rest of the afternoon slides by in a haze. You put an earbud in as you wash the dishes, say goodbye to the office staff, then head out the front door to your car. Someone calls your name and you jump. “Jesus, Jamie.” You turn around to see him push himself off the wall by the door. It looks like he’s been waiting there.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You headin’ home?”

You say, “Yeah, I only work for part of the day. What are you doing out here?”

Jamie wraps his hands in the front of his shirt and considers what he’s going to say. He’s been thinking about it all morning, and he’s still not sure what the right approach is.

“Look,” he begins hesitantly, “y’know how Keeley’s promoting Bantr?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I been chatting up this girl, like, and she- I dunno, I really like her. I was thinking we could meet in person but I don’t know if she’ll… fucking… want to.”

Christ, he’s stumbling over his words like a goddamn fool.

You raise an eyebrow and say, “Okay..? Are you looking for advice?”

You’re beyond confused right now. This is the longest Jamie has ever talked to you, and certainly the most awkward he’s ever been. Usually he takes his food with a wink and a “Thank, love.” Sometimes he’ll even through in a compliment.

Jamie untucks his hands just to shove them in his pockets. Fuck it.

“I know it’s you,” he says bluntly. You open your mouth to say something, but he keeps talking. “Figured it out last night when we were talking. You made lemon cupcakes yesterday, yeah? You hated lunch yesterday and said sorry for it like a million fucking times. My username is fucking stupid, just my position and number.”

He stops, unsure where to go from here. Meanwhile, your brain is whirring a mile a minute. 

“You’re Strike09,” you say slowly. Jamie nods and you slap your forehead. “Oh god, I was flirting with you! Shit, this is so fucking awkward. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who you were.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Jamie takes a few steps, closing the distance between you. “Don’t think we would’ve done it if we fuckin’ knew each other. But we did. And we like each other.”

Your head is still in your hand. This is too much. You’re conscious of the fact that you’re still in your hairnet.

You look at him just long enough to ask, “So what’s your point?”

“We should give it a go.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. What’s your actual point?”

Jamie looks at you incredulously as he says, “That is my actual fucking point! I like talking to you! I think you’re fit! I know I’m fit and you like talking to me. I sneaked out of training to talk to you. Told Roy I weren’t feeling well, and he’s gonna send someone to check on me soon so if you have a real reason why we can’t try dating, I want to hear it.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “It’s just a lot to process.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, alright, yeah, sure. Let me know. Um, I have to get back before someone finds me. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” you halfheartedly reply. 

You think about Jamie the entire way home. You head straight to the kitchen and mechanically begin pulling out baking supplies. Cooking is fun, but it’s also your job. Baking is how you unwind. You’re halfway through an orange tart when you realize what you’re making. 

“Damn it!” you cry. Fucking Jamie. You smack down your spatula and grab your phone to text Keeley with a request. She responds almost instantly with Jamie’s phone number. 

He picks up on the second ring. 

“You rejecting me over the phone now?” he quips. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask. 

“Keeley,” he replies, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Same,” you say. “I wanted to tell you that I thought about it, and I want to go out with you. I don’t know when you’re free, but I’m around after 3pm pretty much every night. God, that sounds super lame.”

Jamie laughs. “So if you sent me your address, I could be at yours in…”

“Fifteen minutes,” you supply. 

“Set a timer, babe,” Jamie says. “Bet I can make it in ten.” 

[sethsclearwater]

poly seth and paul with a pregnant reader who has cravings bad and just cries when she cant get it like its 2am and she just wants something specific crying and paul and seth dont know what to do and have to go out at midnight to get her her snacks so she wont cry anymore

PLEASE💀💀 send in more requests y’all!!

...

"seth," you sniffled, whimpering as you gently squeezed his bicep in an attempt to wake him up. the aforementioned male was quick to roll over and knuckle blearily at his eyes as he woke himself up.

"hey pretty girl," he murmured sleepily, yawning, "why the tears?" he asked softly, sitting up so he could gently cup your face in his hands and brush away the stray tears with his thumb.

you sniffled again, which apparently woke up your other imprinter who let out a loud groan as he rolled over, drawing both yours and seth's attention, "'s going on?" paul questioned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as you sniffled again, another wave of tears running down your cheeks.

"i really want those hot pickles but we don't have any in the fridge," you whimpered, anxiously looking between seth and paul who both let out soft sighs at your explanation.

"oh pretty girl," seth murmured, sliding one hand down to your protruding belly, "let's go look again, yea? i know we just got a bunch a few days ago," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before getting up.

you nodded as paul got up as well, taking your hands and helping you up so the three of you could walk into the kitchen. according to the oven, it was 2:13 in the morning and you could not have been less happy to be up at such an early hour.

paul helped you sit down at one of the barstools, gently brushing your tears away as seth looked in the fridge for some of your hot pickles.

he hummed, drawing yours and paul's attention, "i don't see anymore," he sighed softly, his explanation sending another wave of tears down your cheeks.

you anxiously looked over to your other imprinter who just sighed and leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, "i'll go see if the gas station down the street has some, yea?" paul suggested, knowing you well enough by now to know that you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep until you satisfied your craving.

you nodded, "please," you whimpered and he let out a breathy laugh.

"i'll be quick." he reassured, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before straightening up and grabbing his keys and wallet before heading out.

seth came over to you, offering you your hydroflask, "drink some water, yea?" he suggested, offering you a small smile when you nodded and sipped on the straw.

"you wanna put your show on in bed while we wait for paul?" he asked softly and you nodded, sniffling again as you grabbed your hydroflask and allowed seth to take your free hand and help you back into the bedroom where he got you back into bed.

he quickly crawled in next to you, allowing you to curl into his side while he got your favorite show on. it didn't take long for paul to get back and you lit up as soon as you saw him step into the bedroom with a bag of hot pickles, "hey princess," he smiled softly at you as he stepped over and handed you two of them, "i got like 10 of them so we'll have some extras in the fridge, yea?" he asked softly, his tone laced with a hint of teasing that had you giggling as you sniffled.

"thank you," you whispered, cheeks a bright pink as you quickly got one of the pickles out of the wrapper and ate it.

both boys let out breathy laughs, happy to know that you were happy. paul got the rest of the pickles into the fridge before he was getting back in bed with you, both boys chuckling as you ate 2 pickles in record time.

[t0ast-ghost]

Watching Star Trek TOS for the first time, and here are my thoughts on episode three (Charlie “X”)! (I didn’t do episode two cause I just wanted to watch it but I love Bones)

- so far I really like the kid

- Kirk shut up, let Charlie talk

- oh no he’s frightened by the door :(((

- girls do not look THAT different, getting some bad vibes from you Charlie

- BONES!!! (Why does he stand like that, it’s so curved)

- “I want people to like me” oh god they gave this boy anxiety

- He’s learning about the patriarchy, like Ken

- Kirk making Bones tell Charlie about puberty, he looked so defeated

- SPOCKS EYESHADOW!!!

- Charlie gets a Kirk assigned father, it’s not Kirk himself but he did assign Bones to do it, can’t you see the man is tired Jim?!?

- why is she being mean to Spock in verses? Nvm this is fun and he’s enjoying her singing

- HE SLAPPED KIRKS BUTT WHAT

- “there’s no right way to hit a woman.. you know man to man.. uhh… you understand, Charlie?” That was the worst way to try and explain anything, Kirk

- “I put meatloaf in the ovens, now there’s turkeys, real turkeys” then Charlie’s little laugh

- aww they’re playing chess together, normal husband activities

- “you smell like a girl” “I feel hungry… all over” back the fuck up Charlie

- stop trying to get Bones to explain stuff to him, Kirk

- this episode is just so icky, one issue is that they can’t just have an adult conversation and they can’t explain anything properly to him, they’re just telling him no and that he’s wrong. It’s a good example of how concealing information doesn’t allow people to find their own morals but instead creates a bunch of rules which can be easily broken if the person doesn’t believe in them because they don’t understand the logic behind them. (Not saying that the boundaries they’re setting for him are wrong, he just can’t understand them because they’re not explaining shit)

- SHUT UP SAM HE’S TRYING- oops Sam’s gone

- damn that German expressionist lighting tho, like something out of metropolis

- I FUCKIN DARE YOU KIRK, PICK HIM UP SEE WHAT HAPPENS

- okay Kirk saying it’s his choice is good cause at least he’s teaching him that these things he does are his own actions

- “short tempered, because he doesn’t understand” cause you won’t explain shit without mind games and metaphors

- Spock and Bones DO NOT want to get involved

- when Charlie’s explaining what he did to the Antares Bones looks absolutely terrified (Bones sitting like that on the table is… I have many thoughts)

- OH NO UHURA!

- Don’t you dare call Spock Mr. Ears

- “Teenager with supernatural abilities realizes his full potential and decides to use it for evil NOT CLICKBAIT”

- Why would you do that, why would you turn her into an iguana

- GET HIM!!! Wait no! Janice!

- “I love you” “you don’t know what that means” good for her, fuck you Charlie

- He gave Kirk period pain

- “cause you need me to run the ship, and I need him” Spirk? It’s more likely than you think

- this slide from Bones

- “I don’t think you can handle anymore, you’ve reached your limit” Spock and Bones start fucking shit up immediately for Kirk

- Kirk was so ready to punch a bitch

- nice fucking try Charlie- oh Kirk is defending him- nvm he still gets yoinked

- imagine if Charlie becomes Q lol (is that a thing? Are they related?)

- well that’s done now… where’s Scotty, Sulu, and Checkov? (Sulu appeared shirtless in the credits as I wrote that)

Thanks for sticking around again :)

Here’s a link to the first ramble

And all the other rambles

Below the cut is some thoughts I had on the second episode

Some thoughts on episode 2 (The Man Trap):

- it was kinda funny seeing Jim be like “she’s old as fuck, just like Bones”

- I didn’t realize that was where “he’s dead, Jim” came from and my dad quotes it all the time

- it was interesting that even the creature referred to themselves as an animal

- McCoy in the ending where he really didn’t want to kill somebody he loved even if they were just the image

- would not want to be the person to explain what happened to her to Bones

[johnentwistlesbassguitar]

Pairing: John Entwistle/Pete Townshend

Rating: explicit (sorta not too much sexual stuff)

Word count: 1k

Was introduced to the idea of feeder towntwistle but with swapped roles (Pete being the one getting fed) and I couldn't stop thinking ab it so...

John noticed that Pete hadn't been eating much lately, he was too consumed in his most recent project to remember. It made him dissapointed to see Pete so thin and sad looking he had to fix this. Walking up to Pete casually he decided if Pete wouldn't eat on his own then John would make him.

"Have you eaten today?" John asked, staring down at Pete, who was bent over some sheet music.

"Hmmm -" Pete was about to say he was fine, but he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

Seeing the way Pete flushed in embarrassment made John want to laugh. "C'mon, you should have something, I can cook for you"

Pete seemed a little surprised by John's offer, but he accepted, being cramped in his tiny home studio was starting to make him claustrophobic. Letting John help him up off the floor, they went down to the kitchen. Immediately, John started rummaging through Pete's cabinets, trying to figure out what to cook. Pete decided to just sit down and watch. He wanted to comment on how cute John looked, but he kept it to himself.

John made sure to find the biggest pan possible and choose the most calorie dense ingredients. Luckily, Pete had a lot of unused food lying around since he didn't cook much. It was making Pete anxious just how much John was preparing, I mean, he assumed that John was making it mostly for himself, right?

It didn't take long for John to finish preparing and slide his creation into the oven. Pete could practically smell how greasy and fatty whatever John had made was, he was off put but didn't say anything. He could tell that John had put on weight recently, and this was probably why. Not that Pete was unhappy about that. He just wasn't interested in picking up those same eating habits.

John set a timer and then joined Pete at the table. Looking Pete over, John could tell he hadn't washed his hair or changed his clothes in a while. Reaching over John started to comb his fingers through Pete's hair trying to make it look a little nicer.

Pete flinched, John felt a bit guilty for not warning Pete beforehand. "I'm just trying to make you look pretty for dinner," He grinned. Pete tried to keep calm as John ran his hands down his torso, smoothing the wrinkles in Pete's shirt. He could feel the warmth in John's strong hands. Leaning back, John gave Pete a once over. "Looking good," he nodded. Pete couldn't help but blush even if John's behavior was a little odd.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the timer John had set. He set dinner down on the table and scooped a large amount onto Pete's plate. Instead of eating, Pete just poked at it with his fork, trying to make it look like he was interested. He couldn't eat this, but on the other hand, he didn't want to make John feel bad. Also, he was fully aware he hadn't eaten anything for an unhealthy length of time. Unfortunately, John noticed his reluctance.

"Is my cooking not good enough?" He asked, trying to get sympathy from Pete even though he really didn't care what Pete thought.

"No, no! It looks fine...I'm just not very hungry, " Pete shrugged, trying not to meet John's eyes.

John had an idea. He picked up Pete's utensils and cut off a large chunk of his messy food. "Open wide," John asked as he held the fork up to Pete's mouth. Pete struggled to conceal his grossed out expression, John couldn't care less, though.

Hesitantly, Pete parted his lips just enough for John to fit the fork through. Pete was shocked that it wasn't as disgusting as he thought it'd be, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat much.

John smiled at Pete's compliance. "Good boy," he always had the overwhelming urge to praise Pete for everything. For some reason, John's words made Pete want more. It made John happy, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

Pete enjoyed the attention and the feeling of a warm meal in his stomach after barely eating for longer than he cared to remember. It was clear that John was loving feeding Pete and watching him eat. 

After finishing his first plate, Pete already felt full, but John seemed so eager to feed him, and he'd made so much food a little bit more couldn't hurt. Without saying a word, John pulled the entire dish in front of them, Pete wasn't aware that John intended on making him eat the whole thing.

Pete only realized just how much he'd been fed when he felt like his pants were about to pop. He could've sworn they'd been too loose just a second ago. Either way, he wasn't interested in stopping. It disturbed him that it felt so good to be stuffed to the point of not wanting to move.

John reached down to press his hand into Pete's swollen belly. He couldn't stop picturing how adorable Pete would look with a little more weight on him. Maybe he'd have to make a habit of cooking for Pete. He moved his hand to squish Pete's expanding waist, Pete groaned and leaned into John's touch. Humiliation made Pete want to pull away, but John's hands just felt so amazing.

"So cute," John muttered, then picked the fork back up.

It was obvious that Pete was starting to get too full to do anything, but John didn't seem to mind he was willing to take care of Pete for the night. John continued to shovel food into Pete's mouth. He couldn't help but stare at how the buttons on Pete's shirt were barely holding together, parts of his pale belly visible through the gaps.

Soon enough, John finished up feeding Pete everything he'd made, Pete seemed slightly relieved at this he didn't think he could fit anymore in his stomach. John placed a kiss on Pete's tummy and squished it tenderly. Pete hiccuped and blushed. He was horribly embarrassed by his current state of helplessness.

John was still able to lift Pete up with ease despite his increased weight. Holding Pete tight, he brought him to his bedroom and laid him down on his back. Once he started to undress Pete, John noticed that he was rock hard. His eyes widened he couldn't just leave Pete like this.

"Awwww," John cooed pawing at Pete's crotch "would you like some help with that?" He made his voice sickly sweet.

Pete didn't have the energy to form words, but he moaned and pushed his erection further into John's hand. Slowly, John undid Pete's pants and slid his underwear off tossing both articles of clothing aside.

John gripped Pete's cock and tugged on it roughly. Pete couldn't help but let out a loud whine. It didn't take long for John to find just the right way to touch Pete, every stroke of his hand had Pete gripping the sheets and whimpering. Pete's panting got louder as John squeezed and pulled harder. It was embarrassing how quickly he came but with how tired he was he couldn't hold back. Hearing Pete moan his name made John so proud, nothing felt better than giving Pete any form of pleasure.

John bent down to kiss Pete's soft belly and sink his teeth into it. He adored the sight of his own marks on Pete's squishy body. The idea of showing off and worshipping Pete's belly made him excited. He'd have to remember to do that. It didn't matter to him that Pete would hate it. To John, Pete was the prettiest boy in the world and deserved more attention.

Feeling too tired to support himself anymore, John slowly lowered his body on top of Pete. At first, Pete seemed nervous, but John's heavy weight felt surprisingly pleasant. Despite not being able to move, Pete was completely comfortable underneath John. It was also comforting to know that however large Pete got John would always be bigger. John just tucked his face into the crook of Pete's neck. He was satisfied to know that Pete was finally getting the food and rest he needed.

[dracoxmalereader]

Christmas Tree

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Part 2 to Wrapping Paper <3 It is now implied that my Huff!Reader dude's dad is the Slytherin, so sorry if you read the headcanons and make a different relative the Slyth. TT

Summary: Christmas Eve is going normal, until it isn't. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

Word Count: 796

The tree jingles. Ornaments glitter in twinkling light, and the garland rustles with a last firm jostle shoving the whole of it into a corner. 

“Everyone in front of the tree, let me get pictures before I put the presents under it!” Your mom nudges the lot of you and your family into position.

Sugar cookie wafts in the air, warm with traces of fruitcake and a cooking turkey in the oven. Candles and string lights cast a cozy glow over your home. 

Your mom fiddles with the settings of her camera. Just as her finger is lowering over the shutter button, five heavy knocks fall at your front door. Your mom sighs and lowers her head in exasperated defeat.

“I’ll get it.” You tell her. You slip away from your other relatives, through the house to the door. 

You unlock and swing it open. Closing your eyes for just a second when the chilly breeze bites at your face, you adjust to the cold. You blink open. Behind a mountain of vibrant green, platinum blonde hair contrasts against the night sky outside. 

“Are you going to let me in sometime this century?” Draco’s voice is strained. His arms shiver in the winter air. The pile of presents in them slides.

“Why are you here?” You step to the side, allowing room for Draco to squeeze past you. 

“What, I can’t come visit my favorite Hufflepuff?” He wobbles as he enters. His face is tinged pink from the cold. “I even brought gifts, thought you’d be a little happier to see me.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I’m your favorite?” You push the door shut behind him when he’s fully inside.

“The bar is in Azkaban, don’t let it get to your head.” He rolls his eyes. You tell yourself the way he flushes a deeper red is just the warmth of your house setting in. “Where are your house elves? I need to put these down.”

He steps to widen his stance. Your hands twitch into the air. You start pulling the presents from Draco’s grasp before they can slip again. The familiar wrapping paper from Stitches and Draughts smiles up at you, the glossy finish shimmering.

“We don’t have house elves, dear.” Your mom pipes up. She walks over, setting a hand on your shoulder. “Who’s this?”

“Ah,” You start. “Just a friend from school.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “You didn’t tell me we’d be having guests.”

“I didn’t know-”

“My apologies, Mrs. L/N. For showing up unannounced.” He cuts you off to explain. 

He holds his hand out for your mom to shake, and introduces himself. You carry the presents further into your house to set them down by the tree. 

“I knew you got on well with Slytherins, Y/N,” She speaks again. “But I hadn’t expected a Malfoy to turn up for Christmas.” You linger, and when you look back, her hand is still in his. Her brows are raised in surprise.

Draco preens like he’d caught the golden snitch. He fluffs up the lapel of his wool coat and smirks.

She tells him to take off shoes, waddling away back into the kitchen as he’s toeing them off. Snow falls from the soles onto your wooden floors. 

“So this is your place, hm? Terribly small,” Draco remarks. His socked feet pad against the ground towards you until he’s standing close, closer than the size of your house can probably justify. “I reckon there’s more than enough room for the lot of you in the manor.”

You feel your face heat up. The sound of your family bickering amongst themselves roars like a fire through thin walls. Your grandfather sways into the room with you. 

“That the seeker boy you've been fussing about?” He asks. “Your father’s losing his marbles over ‘im.”

In your peripherals, you see one of Draco’s eyebrows quirk up. “Ah, it’s a wizard family thing. Big deal in Slytherin.” You hurry out. 

“Figured.” Your grandfather mutters back. He looks Draco up and down, then back at you, protectively. “Not like those pricks your father had to put up with, is he?”

You shake your head, and try not to let the embarrassment eat you alive. Your grandfather hums and continues down the hallway until he’s disappearing up a flight of stairs.

Silverware clinking echoes from the kitchen, stronger scent wading into the comfortable air. Turning, you see Draco’s expression morph into a cocky one. 

“Fussing about?”

“Shut up.” You groan.

His smug look gives way for a genuine, toothy smile. Jagged canines gleam in the tree’s string lights. Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but hope whatever excuse he gave his parents to be here lasts long enough for dinner.

I tried to make the family as reader-accessible as possible without clogging it up with "X/N"s left and right. I had to google what british Christmas is like for this because all I had to go off of was my family and I don't think this would be very entertaining if the whole story was just reader and Draco listening to them argue in spanish. 😭

I will admit though, the idea of having to explain to Draco what de pinga means is hilarious. He just wanted to spend quality time together and now the reader has to tell him what a jinetera is and why his tia just called his dad one.

If there’s any typos, it’s because I wrote this while singing the national anthem to my sister. They’re playing gorilla tag and whenever they put their arm up they look like the statue of liberty. Like okay get into it George Washington. Singing while simultaneously writing is what I imagine k-pop idols feel like when they're singing and dancing. So basically I'm Bang Chan but for Draco fic.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @siuspider @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222 @ashton-laufeyson @0-alastair-0

[severalforraelee]

No More Fighting: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Photo credit to danielricciardo.com

Word count: 2,026

Written by raelee / Posted May 11

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

“And then Max-””Give me my hat!” “It’s my hat!” I watch as the two boys stumble into the kitchen, Kameron trying to rip the navy blue material off of his brother’s head.

“Boys, stop fighting with each other,” I holler to the two preteens, hissing as I grab the two burning hot waffles from the toaster while balancing the phone in between my shoulder and ear. “Sorry, babe, what were you saying?”

“Are they arguing?” Daniel asks, concern evident in his tone.

“Yeah, they’ve been fighting a lot recently,” a sigh is released as I notice Ryker and Kameron sitting at the table while they wait for me to serve them breakfast. They have innocent expressions on their faces but I can clearly see them kicking each other under the table.

“About what?”

“Normal sibling things. Clothes, food, interests,” I slide a waffle onto Ryker’s plate and a waffle onto Kameron’s plate, pointedly looking down at their feet to get them to stop.

“I feel like I should be there to help you,” my husband comments.

“Don’t be silly, Daniel, you should be doing whatever Red Bull needs you to do. They’re preteens, that’s the age when all siblings don’t get along,” I reassure him.

“I just don’t remember fighting with Michelle.”

“Yeah, well, we have two boys,” my eyes narrow at them as they begin to hit one another. “I have to go, Daniel. Have fun with Max and Checo today. Love you, bye.”

He says I love you and goodbye before we end our phone call for me to deal with our two rambunctious sons.

~

Daniel smirks at me as I stir the spaghetti sauce.

“What?”

“You just look good like this.”

“Like what?” I giggle, pulling the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Your hair pulled up into a messy clip, your face flushed. It brings me back to that one night that-””I finished my homework before Ryker did,” Kameron saunters into the kitchen, a smug smile on his face that matches his tone and words.

“It’s just because you’re younger than me and you get easier homework than I do,” Ryker scoffs, following closely behind his brother.

“I’m only a year younger than you,” the eleven year old defends himself.

“That makes you a year stupider-””Alright,” Daniel says loudly, interrupting our older son. “Let’s be nice to each other, okay?”

“Why? He doesn’t need his ego boosted any more,” Kameron asks.

“Oh, but you definitely do,” Ryker chuckles.

“Boys,” Daniel interrupts again. “What is with all of the fighting?”

“He just needs to be knocked down a few pegs,” our younger son responds.

“No, he doesn’t. You two are siblings, you should be uplifting each other, supporting each other, being a shoulder for the other one to lean on,” he encourages.

Kameron and Ryker stare at him blankly.

“Why?” Ryker asks. Kameron, surprisingly (or not surprisingly, I guess) nods in agreement.

“Because I said so,” Daniel’s face hardens. “Now go play Mario Kart or something, I don’t care, do something that’ll make you bond.”

“But won’t Mario Kart have us competing against each other?” Ryker questions.

“Just go,” Daniel demands.

The two boys huff in disagreement but head towards the living room. My husband turns back to face me, eyebrows raised and mouth open in exasperation.

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who wanted a second child right away,” I tease.

“Sometimes they make me regret it,” he mumbles, leaning his lower back against the countertop next to me, crossing his arms.

“Oh, you weren’t the one who had to deal with them last week when they were fighting nonstop.”

He winces. “Are they that bad all of the time?”

“Honey, they inherited their dad’s arrogance. Of course they are.”

~

“Hi Max,” I grin at the Dutchman as he walks past Daniel in the background.

He turns towards the phone screen at the sound of my voice, a smile also appearing on his face. “Hi Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m doing well. The car is-”Before he can get into maxsplaining, he’s interrupted. “Mom, can you tell Ryker that it’s my turn on the Switch?”

“It’s not his turn, mom, he was on it for three hours straight yesterday.”

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were.”

“You’re a liar.”

“No, you’re a liar!”

“Stay childless as long as you can, Max,” I interrupt their fighting. It doesn’t seem to do anything, though, except make the boys bicker even louder to be heard over me.

“Boys, can you just make it easy for your mom for once?” Daniel requests.

“Well that’s hard to do when Kameron is such a- ow!” They start to argue again, completely disregarding their dad’s words.

“What are they arguing about?” Max questions, confused.

“Who’s turn it is to play on the Nintendo Switch,” Daniel answers.

“You just have one?”

I nod.

“Why don’t you get another one?”

I glare through the phone, not wanting Ryker and Kameron to hear the question but, of course, it instantly captures their attention.

“Yeah, why don’t you?” Kameron asks.

“Because you don’t need another Switch,” I answer.

“But we do!”

“Okay, fine, do you want another Switch or do you want that xBox for your birthday?” Daniel inquires, backing me up.

I turn to the boys with raised eyebrows, already knowing what the response will be. Kameron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything and Ryker kicks at the carpet, staring down at it.

“Just please stop fighting until I get home, your poor mother has to break up so many fights daily,” Daniel pleads, “You don’t want to send your mom into an early grave, do you?”

“Daniel,” I hiss.

“What?”

“Don’t act like I’m going to die just because they have a sibling rivalry.”

“Well if it gets them to stop, then why not?” he responds.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, babe.” I hang up the phone, now being the one to roll my eyes.

~

“Don’t be so nervous, they’ll be fine,” Daniel reassures me. He stands on the bleacher behind me, arms slung around my waist and chest pressed to my back as a way to comfort me. It doesn’t work, my hands still clasped in front of my face nervously.

“My two babies are karting right now, Daniel, I have to be nervous.” I watch the small blue kart speed on the track past where we’re standing, the red kart following closely behind. A few other karts drive behind them, but really, it’s a race between Ryker and Kameron.

When we introduced the boys to karting, we knew that they would often race against each other because of their small age gap. We thought that it would be a good thing- if they were to ever become teammates they would already have a bond, we would be able to go to karting competitions as a family, they would have a common interest.

What we didn’t think through, I guess, was that Ryker and Kameron would have to race against each other.

And with their competitive Ricciardo blood, it can get insane.

“I don’t like how close Ryker is getting to him,” I tell Daniel as the red kart is practically on the tail of the blue kart.

One wrong move and both boys will go flying into the wall.

“They’ll be fine-”Daniel pauses, taking in the scene. “No, he’s definitely too close to him.”

And then it happens. Kameron falters on a corner while Ryker goes full force, most likely predicting that Kameron will go full force as well. Ryker clips the back of his brother’s kart, sending Kameron’s kart spinning into the wall and Ryker’s kart to slide straight into it.

Daniel and I stand by the side of the track, watching as they help their coaches pull their now damaged karts out of the way. I wait in worry, eyebrows crinkled as I watch my sons for any visible signs of hurt, while Daniel crosses his arms beside me, fury coming off him in waves. Once I see that Ryker and Kameron are safe and sound, I pull them into my arms in a tight embrace.

I don’t care if I’m embarrassing them right now, all I care about is that they’re safe.

“I was so worried about you two,” I confess.

Ryker rips himself out of my arms, glaring daggers at his brother. “I don’t even want to be near him right now.”

“You don’t want to be near me right now? You’re the one who ruined my race,” Kameron sneers, resting back into my arms.

“You should’ve just let me pass-””Why would I let you-””Enough,” Daniel’s voice interrupts the bickering once again.

But this time, his tone is different. It’s no longer his comforting, fatherly tone. It’s stern. It’s strict. It’s one-more-word-and-you’ll-suffer-my-wrath dangerous.

Ryker and Kameron notice the tone change because they instantly stop their fighting, standing up straight and staring down at the ground blankly.

“I am so sick of you two always fighting. That little incident on the track was dangerous, not only for you but for your competitors. You let your egos come ahead of safety, something that you promised me and your mother that you would never do. And your mother- she’s had to deal with you two fighting at home for months. But now she has to worry about you fighting on the track, too?”

Ryker and Kameron don’t respond, frozen in place.

“No, you know what, I’m done with this.” Daniel holds out the set of keys to our car. “Go to the car and figure out whatever is going on between you. I don’t care if you ever tell us what it is- I’m tired of dealing with this fighting. Don’t come back until you can agree on a way to figure out your disagreements without letting it affect your other relationships.”

Kameron silently takes the keys, Ryker surprisingly not putting up a fight to grab the keys first. He knows that if he does, Daniel will lay into him.

We watch the two walk in the direction of the car and Daniel wraps his arm around my waist. He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” I look up at him.

“Maybe if I was around more they would be more well-behaved.”

“Are you saying that I didn’t raise our kids to be well-behaved, Ricciardo?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

His eyes widen frantically. “No, of course not-””I’m kidding,” I reassure him. “We know that you’re doing good work at Red Bull, Daniel. We admire you for it.”

He sighs. “It’s just hard to want to keep doing it. Especially in times like these. They could’ve gotten seriously injured out there, Y/N.”

“I know,” I agree, rubbing his back in support.

It’s the first time in all of the years that I’ve been with Daniel that I’ve seen him this shaken up. He’s known for being the calm and humorous presence in the paddock, but right now he’s anything but. His tone is shaky, I saw him blink away the tears brimming in his eyes. Our sons’ crash really affected him.

About twenty minutes go by, Daniel and I watching the rest of the race in silence, before the boys walk back from the car.

“We’re sorry for scaring you guys on the track just now,” Kameron starts.

“And we’re sorry for making it so hard for you while dad’s away, mom,” Ryker continues. “We’ve decided to… compromise from now on, instead of fighting over everything.”

“And to be more understanding of each other,” Kameron adds.

I reach out, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m proud of you boys.”

“Me too,” Daniel adds. “And we accept your apology.”

“Okay, Ricciardo family hug,” I cheer, pulling the boys into yet another hug. Daniel hugs me from behind, wrapping his long arms around me and our two sons.

“I love you, mom,” Kameron tells me.

“I love you more, mom,” Ryker teases.

I can sense Daniel giving him a look from over my shoulder.

“Too soon?”

“Way too soon.”

[robbiefischer]

Hiiiiiii I have a prompt for you but also I have zero chill and love your OCs so much so I may be sending multiple prompts, but FOR NOW, from that holiday prompts list, 🔥 🦠🌲 for Julian and Niko? Maybe with my boy Niko as the one not feeling good?

It feels only fitting that I christen my blog with Niko and Julian, my not-even-a-little-bit-secret-faves. This is such a cute prompt, thank you and I hope you like this!

Niko & Julian

Holiday fluff prompts

Cuddling by the fire, sniffles & holiday movies

Julian watches Niko from the bed as his husband shuffles slowly through their bedroom. He's standing at the foot, just out of the shower dressed in joggers and a black t-shirt, rubbing a towel over his hair. He looks tired, his eyes heavy-lidded and shot slightly pink, irritated like he'd spent his whole shower rubbing the sleep and cold-ish irritation out of them. Niko's been extra busy at work for weeks, between preparing for an artist lecture series, a handful of pop-up exhibits, children's-night-at-the-museum and last night's opening of a much-talked-about traveling exhibition of a previously private collection. It's been exhausting, and the last few days of looking tired and rundown seem to have caught up with him.

"Do you even need to go in today? I thought last night's opening was your last big thing for a while... maybe let Archer handle things for you, he needs the experience." Julian keeps his tone light, casual, as he takes the towel from Niko and tosses it in the hamper. If he pushes too hard he knows Niko will likely drag himself into work out of sheer bloodymindedness.

It's so slight he might have missed it if he weren't watching his husband so closely, but the tension in Niko's body - stretched tightly from shoulder to shoulder - melts away at the suggestion. Julian busies himself making the bed; He smoothes the sheets back and fluffs up the pillows, giving Niko time to mull it over.

He's straightening the duvet, half-convinced Niko's gone back to getting dressed for work. But then Niko's at his side, perched on the edge of their bed. Julian slides an arm around around his shoulder and squeezes it gently.

"How are you feeling, sweet pea?" Julian asks. He runs a hand through Niko's shower-damp hair, and pulls him closer when Niko slouches against his chest into the touch.

"I'm dying," Niko coughs, sniffling a few times behind his wrist as he lets himself fall back in bed onto the pillows Julian's just rearranged then rubs at his eyes. "Call the attorney, I need to update my will."

"That bad?" Julian teases, not bothering to keep the slightest hint of a smile from his face. He knows Niko can't be feeling too rough if he has the energy to be dramatic about it all. Bad enough to want extra sympathy and fussing, maybe a touch more honey than usual in his tea, and to complain at Julian but not miserable. "Poor thing, you sound stuffy. Headache?"

"Scatter my ashes in the gentle waves of the Aegean," Niko mumbles through the pillow he's pressed his face into. Julian thinks he sees his head bob into a nod. "You get all of my stuff."

Julian rolls his eyes but a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. He doesn't point out that of course he does, they're married. Instead, he rubs Niko's back, then presses a kiss into his hair. "Of course, love. Would you like some tea while we await the inevitable?"

"Ooooh, tea?" Niko peeks one eye out from his pillow and rubs at his nose. "Tea does sound nice, I could stick around for tea."

* * *

It's a few hours later and Julian's pulling a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven when Niko shuffles into the kitchen, all sleep-warm and rumpled in one of Julian's sweaters, fingertips just barely peeking out from below the cuffs. Niko pads over to his side, sets his now empty mug on the countertop as he slips an arm around Julian's waist and presses his head against Julian's shoulder. A few strands of his dark hair are hanging down in front of his face and Julian strokes his fingers through them, pushes them back behind his ear then rests the side of his hand against Niko's brow. Warm, but barely. It's a relief, and when Julian speaks he knows his voice is utterly, impossibly fond.

"Did you get back to sleep, Izzy?" Julian asks. He hums a small sound of approval as Niko nods against him, tsks as he clears his throat roughly. "I'll make you some more tea for your throat, these need to cool for a bit. You want to go get comfy on the couch?"

"You made me cinnamon rolls?" Niko asks in a small voice, more congested than he'd sounded before his nap.

"I always make you cinnamon rolls," Julian says. He knows they're Niko's favorite, tempting even when nothing else sounds good. And it's a good distraction for him, all the mixing and kneading, instead of worrying about his husband.

"I know but... s'nice," Niko yawns, and his dark eyes go big and soft when he looks up at Julian after. "And you made a fire. In the living room. You know I love that."

"We have gas, Nik. I flipped a switch," Julian says, feeling his face flush a little. It doesn't feel like enough, not for his Niko. "It's not a big deal."

"Will you just let me appreciate you, please? God..." Niko says, sounding exasperated but oh so affectionate. His voice goes rough and cuts out in the middle, only to come back after a few hoarse coughs.

"Go lie down, sweet pea. I set up the Hallmark Channel for you. I'll be right there," Julian says, a little firmer this time. He'd set a bag of cough drops on the coffee table, next to a fresh bottle of water and Niko sounds like he needs both right now.

Niko's eyes brighten then, "oooooh that sounds ... w-wait. Shit." He turns his face away to muffle a congested, tired-sounding sneeze into his shoulder. He curses under his breath, and Julian waits as he pulls away to grab a tissue from the box on the kitchen island, sneezes again, and scrubs at his nose, sniffling a few times. He winces after, like the sneezes had kicked up the sore, swollen ache in his sinuses even more, and squeezes his eyes shut. Julian raises a thumb to brush away the shimmer of moisture beneath them then presses it to the bridge of Niko's nose, rubbing gentle circles as he murmurs a soft bless you. Niko nods and lets out a stuffy little sigh, then heads for the living room. Julian can hear him groan quietly as he lets himself fall onto the sofa.

The kettle chimes, water's poured into a mug for tea and Julian's just a minute behind him. Niko's already made himself comfortable and he shifts on the sofa towards the front of the cushions, patting the space behind him in invitation. Julian smiles as he sets down the mug of tea; Niko looks ready for another nap and he might just join him. He slides behind Niko, loops an arm around his waist and pulls him closer, other hand stroking lightly up and down his back.

"You set up my favorite movie!" Niko exclaims as he grabs for the remote on the coffee table.

Julian thinks back to all the times they've been in this exact same position; Niko's back pressed against his chest and his arms around his husband as he coughed and sniffled his way through a steaming mug of tea - "A Very Merry Magic" playing softly on the TV in the background. It's not that he likes it when Niko's not feeling well, but there's something about these quiet, warmly tender moments with his husband, when Niko's just so soft and affectionate, that he can't help but get lost in.

"Of course I did, sweet pea."

He presses a kiss to the back of Niko's neck, reaching down with the other hand to pull the blanket hanging over the sofa arm up and tuck it over both of them as the familiar notes of the opening credit music starts. Julian slides his eyes shut as Niko snuggles into him. He wouldn't miss these moments for anything.