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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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angelyuji · 2 months ago

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stan pines dating headcanons

18+ minors dni!!

cw // sexual content under the cut!

MY LOVE

he is sooo my man i need him so bad

very old fashioned

asked you out first not cuz he thinks he’s the hottest guy in the world. but because “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take”

he told dipper and mabel he made that up first (he didn’t, he saw it on facebook) (they know he didn’t make it up, but they pretend they believe him)

“heya there, toots.” stan leans on your desk. you look at him, an eyebrow raised.

“hey, stan. need something?” you smile at him.

“yeah, you. me. date. whenever you’re free.” stan looks away, suddenly nervous.

“hmm, yeah, alright! i’m free tonight after work.” stan looks back at you, eyes wide in surprise, before collecting himself. he smiles.

“great, great, i’ll pick you up at 8, dollface.”

calls you pet names that were popular in the 70s/80s: dollface, sweetcheeks, baby, cutie, sugar

stan believes you deserve the world so he yk he’s treating you soooo well

he doesn’t think he deserves you, so he tries so so so hard to treat you well

he believes he’s fucked up every good thing in his life, so when you guys get together, he tries so hard to be a good partner to you

takes you out anywhere you want, even if its something he hates.

you tell him you want to see some movie in theaters, he’s gonna say no and be huffy cuz he’d rather stay home and save money. but the next day he’s gonna show up at your door with the tickets, rolling his eyes, telling you to get in the car

takes you with him to break laws and steal stuff with him

you’re a total nervous wreck but stan’s laughing and holding your hand and you know that everything’s gonna turn out alright.

he buys you clothes sometimes but he’s not up with fashion, so not usually.

any time he does, its usually because he took mabel shopping and he saw something that he thought you would like

more of a listener than a yapper like he’ll listen to you go on and on about something without stopping. you’re his personal podcast. he also loves when you watch his soap operas with him

hehehe im gonna fuck this old man so hard he’s gonna stop breaking traffic laws

sooo smooth and flirty, but he gets over obviously red in the face and its cute asf

he was kinda insecure about his body at first, but seeing how obsessed you are with him when you guys sleep together, he’s all like “heh, i still got it” and he smirks cuz he’s a little shit

likes to be on top, call him old-fashioned, but he likes looking down at you and seeing your face as he makes you feel good

he’s a man of routine, however you can convince him to do different positions or things in the bedroom because at the end of the day, you’re his everything

he goes slow, doesn’t go crazy and jackhammer into you

last time he went too fast, he threw his back out and you had to run through the shack butt-naked looking for his lumbar support pillow

he doesn’t like to talk about it, it was super embarrassing for the both of you lowkey

you were sweet about it tho, i mean, he is in his 70s and you found it sweet he almost destroyed his back to make you feel good

absolutely lovessss receiving head

he’s alsooo a giver dw, certified muncher??? or wtv they say, but he personally likes getting more

anyway back to the cutesy stuff

sometimes he asks you to help him build some stuff for the shack

you get to see stan be creative and create art, as well as fix stuff around the shack (if soos isn’t around)

a lot of duct tape related fixing, but watching him work is hot so u don’t care

i love u stanley pines i need u so bad pls pls pls ruin my life

#like and reblog <3 #gender neutral reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #x reader #stan pines #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines #gravity falls #gravity falls smut #dating headcanons #gravity falls headcanons

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deanwinchestersbabygirll · 3 months ago

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Protective~ Dean Winchester imagine

Warnings// angst, fluff and cock blocking

lil summery// just a lil cutesy protective Dean Winchester

*REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT*

Dean x Reader

Word count// 1400

(gif from Pinterest)

You Sam and Dean had just finished a pretty rough ghoul hunt, once you guys had all showered the remnants of the night, dean suggested you guys head out for a few drinks to celebrate, once you got to the bar Dean and you slide into a booth, deans arm wrapping around your shoulders pulling you into his side “you get the first round Sammy” Dean said smirking at his brother, Sam rolled his eyes “fine but you’re next” he said walking to the bar

“So how you feeling after you’re first ghoul sweetheart” you looked up at your boyfriend “well I’ve gotta say I won’t be chasing one for a very long time, much prefer a simple salt and burn” Dean chuckled kissing the side of your head, “alright beers are severed” Sam said sitting down with the drinks “thanks Sammy” you said taking a drink out the bottle

You and the guys were having a great time talking about passed hunts before you’d met them “he just looked at me all upset and said ‘I lost my shoe’ all because he lost the damn rabbits foot” Dean laughed finishing his second beer, “alright my round boys just another beer?”you questioned getting up “yeah thanks Y/N” Sam said “yeah me too thank you sweetheart” you hooded moving to the slightly crowded bar you quickly got the bar tenders attention “hi three beers please” the man nodded “that’ll be 12 bucks gorgeous” he said placing three beers in front of you, you nodded handing him a 20 dollar bill, the bar tender went to get your change leaving you standing for a few minutes

“what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a place like this” a man grumbled out from one of the bar stools, he looked to be a drunk creep no younger than mid 50s “I’m here with my boyfriend and friend” you said back hoping he’d back off at the boyfriend comment “ah bet your boyfriend doesn’t treat you like I would” the man said moving closer to you “look buddy I’m not interested I’m in a relationship” he didn’t seem too happy with that “you better watch yourself you bitch I’m giving you a choice the only thing you should be saying is yes sir, because that’s the only damn thing you’ll be saying when I’m pounding you in front of your little boyfriend you slut!” he spat out, “is there a problem here miss?” The bartender asked returning with your change “no everything’s fine thanks” you said grabbing the change stuffing it in your pocket before taking the beers back to the winchesters

“Hey sweetheart everything good? You were gone a while” Dean said grabbing his beer and pulling you back to your place at his side “yeah fine just waiting for my change” you answered quietly, you could see the man from the bar staring at you his hand holding his glass tightly in his grasp as he wouldn’t break eye contact “I’m gonna head back to the motel after this one guys I’m pretty tired” you said feeling uncomfortable either the stares the man wa giving you, dean nodded “yeah I think we’ll all head out then, you good with that Sam?” Dean questioned, Sam nodded

Once you guys finished your drinks you made your way to the exit, from the corner of your eye you seen the man get up, following your trail to the exit, starting to feel scared you grabbed deans hand tight, Dean turned to look at you concerned “you okay Y/N? You hands really sweaty” you nodded to answer him too nervous to even speak, you thought the night air would make you feel better but knowing the man was following behind was just making your feel sick, before you could get into baby dean stopping you, both hands on your arms as he looked at you “sweetheart my job is lying for a living, I know somethings bothering you and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is” Dean asked alerting Sam “what’s going on?”

Sighing you looked behind the brothers to find the man staring at you from behind a car “there was a guy at the bar, he freaked me out a little bit I didn’t care too much until he sat staring at me for the last hour so I wanted to leave but he followed us out here” you said, your heart pounding in your chest, Dean got an angry look on his face as he turned searching the parking lot “where the hell is he!” Dean moved to look around finding him quickly, Dean stormed over “hey! The hell do you want jackass? You think you can harass my girlfriend I wouldn’t find out” Dean grabbed the man by his shirt “not my fault she’s a whore man, just wanted a little taste of her sweet p-”Dean didn’t let him finish his sentence before he was released punching him in the face “my nose!” The man yelped but dean wasn’t done yet, Sam was holding you in a hug blocking the fight from your eyes

Once dean was done teaching the man a lesson in how to respect women he walked back over to you and sam “alright he’s down, let’s get back to the motel” Dean said getting in the drivers seat. Once you guys made it back to the motel you followed the brothers back to the room, Sam went into the bathroom leaving you and Dean alone

sighing dean sat on the bed you two would be sharing, he started to wrap his bloody knuckles you let out a shaky breath before sitting beside him and taking his hand “I got it” you said taking out the rubbing alcohol and rubbing it on his wounds, Dean flinched slightly at the sting “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked softly you looked up giving him a small smile “I just didn’t want to bother you, I just didn’t realise how big a creep the guy was till he followed us out” dean nodded “sweetheart if someone or something is ever bothering you I don’t give a rats ass how by or small, you tell me and I will take care of it” you nodded “yeah I will I’m sorry dean” Dean was shaking his head “you have nothing to be sorry for Y/N you did nothing wrong” you wrapped your arms around deans shoulders pulling him to a hug, we wrapped his own around your waist holding you close to him

You pulled away to give him a small kiss, however a small kiss with Dean was never really just a small kiss, this one being no different as Dean was swiping his to tongue along your bottom lip, you parted your lips allowing dean to explore your mouth, you moaned quietly when dean pushed you slightly to lay back on the bed as he moved to lean on top of you as you continued to make out, deans hand was tugging at the hem of your shirt, and just when you were about to take it off the bathroom door opened, the younger Winchester emerged in his pyjama pants and shirt “seriously!” He yelped turning away

Dean sighed moving to stand up “relax Sammy were decent” you chuckled as you moved to get up and get changed in the bathroom, Dean following close behind “seriously don’t guys I don’t want a repeat of the hunt back in Chicago” you giggled “I promise Sammy we’ll keep it PG” you and Dean changed into your sleepwear, Dean sporting the same as sam, minus the shirt, he found them to be annoying when it got too hot in bed, you in a pair of shorts and deans old led zeppelin shirt

When you both emerged from the bathroom Sam was already tucked in for the night, all lights off minus the one in the bathroom, you and Dean made your way to the bed getting in either side Dean quickly grabbed your waist tugging you close enough so you could rest your head on his bare chest and tangle your legs together “we’re definitely getting our own room next hunt” Dean whispered kissing the top of your head, you chuckled at his remark closing your eyes “whatever you say Winchester”

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lil repost of one of my personal favs from my old account :))

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squiddy-god · 3 months ago

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Hello!! I just read your twst x chubby S/O and I thought it was amazing! Could I request Third Years x S/O who's into crocheting and crochets them plushies or keychains as random gifts? Plus a bonus when they admit that after they graduation Night raven they want to start a small business on it after hiding it if you want >w<

Hehehehe i love this so much because i crochet! It is one of my many house husband skills, personally my favorite things to make is these little octopuses but i should really branch out lol, this reminds me of those manhwas where the mc starts a business that booms

Cw : tooth rotting fluff, mc has a successful side hustle to make that bag, gn reader, bonus grim because i love my cat so much, my son, grims is obvi platonic, rsa mention because vil is petty

Grim

Oh hes bragging

His human henchman is the best because they make him cute gifts

The skrungly

I wanna make him little kitty outfits for every occasion

Making grim cat toys and he acts like he doesn't like them at first but he literally wont sleep without the crochet tuna fish you made him

I think he needs a little kitty bag to wear and put his stuff in (mostly tuna)

He would taunt the others because clearly he is the most special kitty with his very cool bad and fish

He is and i won't stand for anyone telling me otherwise, i love our bastard cat son

Cater

Hes obsessed

If you make him a keychain then he is adding it to his growing collection on his phone right away

I hc that hes a big fan of stuffed animals so he adores anny that you make him and they sit on his bed

He names all of them

He helps you start the small business during school actually! At first its his suggestion to run a magicam page for all your creations

Soon the comments are flooded with people asking if you sell, one thing leads to another and boom you now have a successful side hustle

Rsa is honestly a big seller they love this kind of stuff

He loves everything you make him and never stops posting about his love for it

Very supportive of your small business ventures

His favorite thing you've made him is a little bag for pens and pencils that is shaped like a playing card because he thinks its just the cutest thing in the world

And the keychains that he gets to show off whenever he whips his phone out (often)

Some of his favorite candid photos of you are when you’re crocheting peacefully

Trey

Dometic bliss pt.1

Trey is,,,such an old man- he like baking and the simple domestic little things like making you coffee/tea in the morning

He loves to watch you crochet because he thinks its very cute and wholesome to spend time when you are doing activities together that are calm

MAKE THIS MAN DOILIES AND POT HOLDERS please

He adores the set of frilly doilies you made him and the cute potholders are always in use

He is 100% in support of your dreams of making that bag, honestly he really thinks you should get a start now to make extra cash on the side since 7 forbid crowley pay you for the work you do

He smiles every time he sees a tart cooling on one of the doilies you made him, seeing the little pattern always makes him happy

He trades you baked good for the things you make him so i hope you enjoy sweet treats

Leona

Cat…big kitty…

Oddly captivated by any balls or skeins of yarn that are out and about but hes fighting the urge to play with them

He is not beating the house cat allegations

At first hes pretty neutral on it honestly, he likes the gifts you give him because they are just his but hes not a big keychain guy, or stuffies

Then you make him a blanket and hes gone

He claims to be neutral about it, saying he likes the gift but dont be fooled by his aloof act he sleeps with that blanket everywhere

He is bringing it to class if he doesn't just skip the class

It is his favorite blanket and he almost lost his shit when ruggie took it to wash it- he's kinda territorial about the blanket

Gives 0 fucks that its some cutesy blanket with little lions on it

Also a big fan of pillows/pillow covers

If you make him multiple blankets he loves them too but the first one is extra special to him

Hes neutral about you starting a business during or after school/graduation because well,,,he's a whole prince,,,

You make cheka a matching blanket and leona gets a very happy letter from his brother on how much the mini lion loves it, leona rolls his eyes but is secretly very proud of you

Regardless if you want to start the small business he is happy to support you making that bread

Vil

Vil in crochet clothes my beloved

Hes charmed by your little hobby and the adorable stuffed animal you made him, a little crochet owl that sits on his vanity so he sees it when he does his makeup and night routine

Vil does not post a lot of personal stuff on his magicam/socials, but he does wear anything you make him, he has a folder in his gallery dedicated to photos of the two of you, dates or candid photos either he took or rook took and sent to him.

Most of these pics he's in something you crochet for him even if it's just a simple keychain it's a staple of his

He is very supportive of your dreams of starting a business for your crochet, he admires the drive and discipline and encourages you to pursue this work

Ironically if you start a side hustle soon to be full business, neige of all people is a big customer as he's fond of cute stuff like this

This is where vil gets petty

He sees a photo post of neige’s where he’s in a new outfit, not odd at all, what catches vils attention is that the cardigan and hat he's wearing is oddly similar to a piece he saw you working on for an order- anyone watching can see the twitch in vil’s eye when he sees the shoutout to you in the caption

The next 5-8 posts of vil’s are a mix of his regular posts and pictures of him in your clothes or with the keychains, all with captions along the lines of “my beautiful s/o @[your name here]”

He even posts the owl

Rook

If you were to make him a keychain he calls it his lucky charm for hunting and always had it on him.

Really he's just fond of anything you make him

a lot of his photos are of you when you are deep in a project and not paying attending, candid photos like this are his favorites and he looks at them often

He really likes any little animal stuffies you make because he thinks they are just the cutest

“Hunts” your plushies aka he will sneak up on you making them or sorting them out and act like he caught them

Silly

He is very supportive of your business ventures, he loves to see you so passionate about wanting to eventually start a small business and be able to sell your creations

He definitely encourages you to sell a few things in sams shop, afterall he sells anything and everything anyone could ever need

Idia

The outfits you make grim are his faves

He is a cat man at heart and cant help but coo over every new thing you make grim because it makes the kitty so so so cute and as a cat he was already uber SS+ cute levels

He is also a big fan of any keychains you make him or even stuffies

The stuffies either are on his bed so he can cuddle them or they are with the rest of his game/anime figures on his shelves so its a horrific mix of like neon genesis mechs and crochet

I think it would be funny to make him doilies to put the figures on because when hes gaming and people are like “dude why is your [super cool limited edition game figure] on a doily???” hes like “haha L+loser+lonely+my super cool s/o made them for me lvl10 affection” and is it cringe as hell? Yes. can those normies suck it because hes no longer forever alone? Also yes

They are demanding proof or it didn't happen

Ortho is also a big fan and has a lil keychain you made hooked on him <3

idia would actually combust if you made anything themed after a game or show he watches/plays because that is SS+ max lvl affection with full hearts right there

You have unlocked the super secret route and that is unlimited discord nitro and a new pc because he is so happy

He also would support your business during and after school

Malleus

Domestic bliss pt 2

Genuinely you are breaking this guy. Like he cannot take it anymore

I feel we all can agree malleus is prone to casual proposals because hes just,,,kinda like that

He pictures a future with you by his side and you aren't making it any better by being so endearing

When he sees you doing something as simple as sitting down and crocheting his draconic heart is filled with sweet domestic love, makes him feel like an old married couple and he can't take it lmao

At first he's a bit weird about accepting gifts as it's a big deal in fae culture to just,,,get a gift out of nowhere

But he does accept them, he simply gives you something he sees as equal value (this is how you end up with several big ass gems)

He considers all of your gifts his most precious items, his favorites however are the following 4 gifts he has received

A keychain that looks like his gaogao-drakon-kun tamagotchi witch he keeps on the same keychain as said virtual pet

A gargoyle plushy that he considers to be one of his most treasured gifts, in a similar light he has a plushie of your fave animal and you have a dragon plushie that match (this almost killed him)

And a little crochet bracelet that you match (he never takes it off unless he has to)

Your desire to start a business throws him for a loop at first because in his mind you are happily by his side in the briar valley, (he is very male lead coded) but he quickly re-adjusts to account for your business plans and he is the most supportive dragon you could ever hope for

Lilia

Old man (affectionate)

I like to think lilia knits and is simply overjoyed when he finds out you crochet

You exchange little gifts

It makes his very old fae heart happy to sit around the ramshackle fireplace and crochet/knit with you while chatting about your day/week, simple things like this make him feel like hes back in the old days with a baby silver

He loves anything you make him and happily wears any keychains or items he is gifted

Stuffies are named and placed around his room without a hint of shame

And he loves that you have such good goals and dreams like a business

I like the idea of meeting general lilia and also making him something

At first he is confused, almost indignant that you would have the gaul to give him a gift- of all people he would never accept such a token

Maybe its something simple, a granny square on the lacy side that resembles something akin to a handkerchief, something small you explain as a favor, something youd give a knight

He claims he is disgusted by such human customs but his grip on the crochet piece is unmistakable, and the way you wake up the next morning to a small green gem-the same that adorns his armor, tells you all you need to

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weabooii · 11 months ago

Text

Sleep a Way Out!

Thoughts/ some explanations below the cut

It's a little disappointing to me that even though Zero abducts everyone in 999 at night, none of them seem to be in their pj's. So this is what I imagine their pj's (or in some cases, clothes worn around the house) would look like.

(left to right)

Ace's boxer fit is purely vibes based. He just seems like that kinda guy.

Lotus: I tried to bring some of her girl boss energy into her pj's. I imagine she wraps her hair in silk so it doesn't get messed up at night.

Clover just seems like she would chill in an oversized cutesy onesie.

Snake: My historical fashion obsession rears its head. He's wearing a Banyan, which is a European gown/lounge wear from the 1700s based on the Kimono and possibly other Indian robes if I recall correctly. The flower on its sleeve is a Chinese Lantern plant. He's holding a chamber candle stick as well. His cap is just based on stereotypical goofy historical pjs, just for fun.

Junpei: I couldn't bring myself to remove what I saw as some of the most iconic parts of Junpei's original design so I just remixed them. Instead of a flannel shirt he's wearing flannel pajama pants and instead of "bisexual sneakers" he's wearing one bisexual slipper (the other one got lost). I was originally intending to give him a generic college or baseball tee but while I was replaying through Ai the Somnium files I spotted the 999 reference by Sunfish Pocket and thought it would be fun to give him an old Lemniscate shirt instead.

June: She has to be wearing purple. Her fashion sense seems to be very natural, with a lot of knitting and textile ornamentation which lead me to think she'd probably wear a nice, simple cotton nightgown. And the bunny slippers are a little nod to her backstory.

Santa: You know, I just get the impression that Santa sleeps in the same clothes he wears in the game. And with a build like that he's definitely getting enough sun to have some embarrassing tan-lines.

Seven: Again, kinda like Santa, I get the feeling his pajamas could be the same clothes he wears in the game. But the shower sandals are a must.

Guy 9: There just wasn't enough for me to go off of for him. So I deleted him :) Sorry. He blew up.

#zero escape #999 #ze 999 #zero escape spoilers #akane kurashiki #junpei tenmyouji #light field #snake #clover field #aoi kurashiki #santa 999 #hazuki kashiwabara #lotus 999 #gentarou hongou #ace 999 #fanart #I really did this lineup for “fun”#Sorry to people who followed for trigun. I need to come out as a mystery visual novel fan now or there's no going back.#funny that I've mostly been drawing aitsf stuff and yet the first thing I post here visnov related is 999. Well. Gotta start somewhere.

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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

summary: the motions of patrick zweig, sleeping around for a place to stay, finding culinary genius! reader who owns a bakery- and things don’t go as planned, but he couldn’t end up more grateful for it.

warnings: cutesy. unsuspected feelings. lots of flirting. player/dirtbag turned boyfriend! patrick <333 kissinggg. smut! fingering, mentions of oral. sex. the L word. lots of fluff, and a very sweet ending.

- Patrick is not the kind of guy who denies himself a dessert. He’s not one of those sports guys obsessed with macros and calories. He knows moderation, he knows he’s an active guy who can afford to get himself something. He’s in his car, still living in it, when he passes a new bakery. He’s just spent money on food and gas, so he’s not able to head in, but it looks like a cute little place and he promises to check it out when he has the spare cash.

- he’s still whoring himself out for a place to stay. he can’t afford not to. he’s spending time on tinder, swiping as he lays himself down in the back seat. something is up with the settings, he’s getting older women. like older older. geriatric, almost. they’re probably established and have houses, but he does have some standards. he goes to the age settings and sets it back. or somewhat close to it. he’s including 18-up. he sits up a little frustrated, looking at these 18 year old girls and swiping to maybe find someone with a better age. there’s 23, 22, 27… 27 wasn’t so bad.

- it’s you. and you’re pretty. the kind of pretty patrick knows that he doesn’t deserve, but when he swipes a yes on you, you’ve already swiped yes on him as well. it’s a match. he takes that and shuts off his phone, going to sleep.

- he wakes up to a text on tinder from you, it’s recent, he woke up two minutes after you first texted. it’s only ‘hiii’. he sits up, texts you back. you’re not far at all, he’s got a date with you tonight at some local italian bar.

- he’s wearing a sweater when he meets you at the bar. his best one. usually he’s not too picky about it but you’re prettier than his usual exploit. so why not enjoy it? he looks friendly, approaching you with a smile and his hand extended, freshly out of his jean pocket. you’re prettier in person, he notes, shaking your hand, letting it linger just a half-second extra in yours.

- you’re in something pretty, but casual. tall boots, a sweater that hangs off your shoulder, and a little skirt that wasn’t all that little. modest, something he isn’t used to. the most modest women he’d dated had been the shameless dates that he desperately asked for, the poor women sometimes coming straight from work. you have a winning smile and your hand is soft and he sits next to you at the bar, exchanging his name for yours properly.

- “so you play tennis professionally?” you ask, leaning on your hand. you’re smiling at him and you are so sweet. “are you any good?”

“i’d say so.” he grins. “might be.”

“you could be sooo bad at tennis and you’d still be better than me,” you tell him. “anything that stands out in your career? i’m so curious.”

he tsked, looking at his drink in front of him. you were interested in him, wanted to talk about him. the ego boost he needed. “won the junior us open a few years back.” he said. it wasn’t that impressive but tell it to someone who doesn’t know tennis and it sounds like a feat.

“how long ago were you considered junior?” you smiled a little slyly. he’s never been caught on that before. “how old did you say you were.”

he smirked, just a little stuck. “thirty-five.”

“so a while ago.” you smiled. “i don’t know anything about tennis, i’ll keep pretending for you.” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink with a cute little grin. you were a little bit spicy along with the sweet, he could get behind that. literally.

- he’s talking to you and you’re swirling your drink around with a sly little smile and you’re cute in a way where he’s just a little curious about your character. you’re more than one-sided and it’s intriguing but he doesn’t want it to get so far. he’s here to fuck you at your place, stay over, and leave with his shoes in his hand in the morning. he makes small talk, his face close to yours, the banter enticing and sexy but still somewhat tame. you had a personality, a good one, one he liked. sometimes it was just a little too easy and you weren’t. you were more of a riddle, something he wanted to figure out.

- you had a twinkle in your eye. flirting came naturally to you, you were almost at his level. the conversation continued over forty-five minutes and two easy drinks.

- the bar food you ordered comes in a really badly plated, ugly little container with the food attached to the tissue. you pick up a piece, looking at it. “we’re not eating this.” you say, finishing your drink. “c’mon.” and you hop off the bar stool.

patrick looks at you, looks at the food in front of the two of you. he was hungry, this was how he was getting his food for today. he’d eat it… “hm?”

“come with me.” you said, putting down the money for his drink and yours. he had just scrapped together just enough to pay for your drinks, but he didn’t stop you. “we aren’t eating bar food.”

this hasn’t ever happened to him. he stood up, looking at you just a little confused, but a sly smirk resting on his lips. you were leaving with him already- what did that mean? “where are we going?” he’d been here for about an hour and you were getting him to leave with you, he thought you weren’t easy.

“you’ll see. come on, come on, you’re so slow,” you giggled, leading him out and onto the street. “mmm, i know what you’re thinking.”

“yeah?”

“she’s easy.” you said. “she’s easy and she’s leaving with me.”

he chuckled, “i wasn’t.” he was. he walked beside you on the traffic side of the sidewalk. it wasn’t his usual conquest, but he’d take it.

“i am not easy, however, things come easily to me.” you grinned. he rubbed his chin just a little, looking at you as you walked. it was late, but you lead him into one of the little asian supermarkets that were somehow open 24/7. “like guessing. you’re a steak guy, hm?”

“might be…” he nodded, looking around. you knew exactly where you were going, it seemed, the way you walked so quickly that he didn’t have time to see anything up close before you were in the meat section. “why?”

“peppercorn?”

“yeah.” it had been a good few years since he’d had steak. he had his hands in his pocket as you picked up the packaged meat and put it into one of the thin little plastic bags. you spun away from the meat section and over to the vegetables. you picked up a pack of mushrooms and two zucchini.

“you like vegetables?”

“what’s the green one?”

“zucchini.” you smiled. “oh my god, you’ve never had it. perfect.”

he was so lost, just following you. he wasn’t going to leave but this was definitely weird. you were cute, bounding around in your sweater, grabbing a few other things. a clove of garlic and some other little bottle of something.

- you check out at the counter and it’s more money than he’s seen in two years. you’re not rich, he knows that, he would have known it. he’s still just so lost and you turn to him as you walk out of the store. “bored yet?” you asked.

“not at all,” he nods. “can i ask about this?”

“yes, you can ask about it.” you tell him.

“you usually take your dates grocery shopping?”

“that’s not asking about it,” you reply, with a smile, turning at the corner. he’s following you, a grin on his own face. you’re cheeky. and your sweater is falling further down your shoulder. he takes a bag to help you carry it. the things he does for a place to stay… “and no, not usually.”

he chuckles, “so…”

“so you’re lucky i hate bar food.”

he laughs, quietly muttering, ‘what the fuck’. but he’s glad, he’s into it. you’re different.

- you continue to lead him and you stop outside the bakery he noted just yesterday. shiny, new, and you have keys. you have the keys. you work here. “you coming?” you ask him. you’re holding the door open for him. he takes the door from you and you slink inside, walking around to turn the lights on. the blinds are shut and the lighting is pretty. fairy lights on the wall, wall lamps, all yellow and pretty.

“you work here?”

“something like that,” you smile, bringing the food back into the kitchen. he follows, looking over everything. “i might own it…”

“might?”

“maybe…” you smile. he’s a little taken aback by that, but it’s occurring to him he didn’t ask what you do. you’re a baker.

he grins, sliding around you as you bend to grab things from the cupboards. a cutting board, a knife, and you start running the big sink in the corner. he watches you quietly as you tie your hair up off your neck and pull your sweater off over your head. you have a pretty little tank top underneath, square neckline and thick straps. he’s never been so far away from a girl while she strips. you turn to him, “i don’t bite.” you grin. he notices how quiet he’s gone.

“no? i was counting on it.”

“yeah?” you say, unsheathing your chefs knife. he steps closer to you, smirk on his face. he’s a shameless guy, he’s not afraid of your rejection. but you grab a zucchini and press it against his chest. a long, thick, suggestive vegetable, but you kindly, and slowly, with a seductive tone to your voice and looking up at him through your eyelashes… tell him to help you cut it up.

- you’re cooking for him, he figures out. you’re cooking food. real food, just on a whim. it’s kind of you to a point that he feels just the slightest bit bad about what his intentions are. “you do this for every guy? steak and vegetables?”

“you’re just the odd lucky one.” you tell him, adding the vegetables to the pan. the meat is done. “food, real food is so important. taste is important as well as the sanitization process- it’s so easy to get food poisoning from a bar. here, less likely.“

“good to know.” he said, his back against the counter next to you, watching you cook. it smelled amazing. “i appreciate it.” he was genuine. not only did you save him from potential food poisoning, but you saved him from being hungry tonight. “thanks.”

“i am sorry it’s not a cheap bar date, if that’s really what you’re into.”

“i don’t usually get dragged to bakeries at 10pm, it’s a good change.”

you stir the vegetables around, “so you date a lot?”

“i wouldn’t say a lot…” he says. “enough.”

- you talk to him about that. you ask if he’s dating to date or dating for potential and he just smiles. how can he tell the woman making him dinner from scratch that he’s not looking for anything serious?

- you nod, deducting his answer from his lack of answer. you’re cleaning as you go and you plate up the food all perfect and pretty and hand it to him. you clean the last dish and put everything back. “i really hope you like it or i just yanked you away from perfectly bad bar food.”

“i’m going to like it. thank you, this is amazing.” he tells you. he drops the sly act, he can’t keep it up over the fact you made him food. real food. good food. he’s been starving. he could kiss you right now. he probably would have, shamelessly, if there wasn’t a plate between the two of you. he decides against it.

- you sit down with him at one of the cafe tables, watching him eat the first bite. then the second with hardly enough time between. it’s delicious, he makes a mental note to put effort in when he fucks you later. you giggle just a little, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“m’sorry-it’s good,” he says, mouth full. it’s a turn off, but for a cook and a baker, its one of the best things. you lean your cheek on your hand again, it kind of smushes your face and patrick’s only thoughts are that the steak is good and that you’re pretty. pretty is different than gorgeous. you’re gorgeous too, of course, but you’re pretty because you’re cute. you’re cute. and it’s weird to think so. when you were down to meet him so quickly, on such short notice, he thought this would be something fast. he tells himself that he’s only feeling differently because this date is taking longer than his usual. by now he’s usually inside of whoever he’s gone out with.

- his lack of table manners is something you can afford to not mind. he’s tall, he’s got nice curls, a nice beard, a good nose, and a gorgeous grin. he’s asking you questions about your bakery and it’s surprising to him too when he realizes he’s been actually listening. the conversation at hand is engaging and he’s into it probably as much as he’s into you.

- “so the tennis thing, you still do that? like all the time?” you asked him, twirling your fork between your fingers.

“all the time.” he nodded back. “not as much as i used to when i was on tour. it’s good though. i get by on challengers.”

“they pay you?” he nods back and takes another bite of his food. “how much usually? is that rude?”

he grins, you’re polite. “not rude-mm- depends on the challenger. sometimes hundreds or around a thousand if you win the whole thing.”

“yeah? that’s not bad. some pocket money,” you smiled, taking another bite. for patrick, it wasn’t pocket money, it was all his money. “i wish baking brought you places. i would love to travel but i spent almost all i had to stay still. to get this place- and to get all the things to go in it.”

“it looks great,” he replied, nodding. “is it doing well so far?” who was he? invested in you? your life? your success? he was almost done with his meal.

“it is.” you smiled. you were pretty, grinning so wide over your passion. “it’s a lot of work, this is the only night i’ve had off in a while. i am usually… in bed by now. i have early starts. i’m a grandma, i know.”

he grinned, “i don’t mind.”

- dinner ends and patrick doesn’t let you get the dishes. you follow him back into the kitchen and you let him wash the dishes while you rinse, then sanitize, then dry. drying his hands, he squeezed past you, hands on your waist as he passes you. you turn around, just a little jumpy. you’re jumpy. something possesses him to say sorry. and mean it. “no, it’s okay, i just…” he’s not imagining the pink in your cheeks. god you’re so cute, it’s disturbing some part of him he didn’t know was active. you cover your mouth and turn back to the dishes, stacking them neatly.

- patrick is honestly ready to leave. he could go, he’d sleep in his car, it was fine. but walking out on you felt wrong. after that meal… you’re in the fridge, looking around on your tiptoes. “i was so sure i had something chocolate in here. it’s not on this shelf… it’s not on…” he comes into the fridge behind you, met by the cold air. he reaches above you.

“this it?” he asks, gesturing to the row of chocolate desserts. you nod. he advances, moving the closest he’s been to you- his cologne, a little bit musky and a hint of cigarettes hits your nose. usually you wouldn’t allow heavy scents near your food, but he smelled so good maybe it slipped your mind.

- he eats like a starved man. he really does. he’s so grateful, beyond, to have something so good for free. to him, you’re an angel sent to cure his hunger. you clean up for the last time.

“do you want to come up for coffee?” you ask him.

“come up?”

“my apartment is upstairs,” you smile and it’s kind and its not laced with any sort of lust the way most women ask for him to come over to theirs. “come up? i have beer if that’s more your speed.”

he grins, leaning toward you. he’s taller than you by a good bit. and he’s gorgeous. and your heart skips. “if you’re offering.”

“i just might be.” you twist from side to side. he’s so smitten by you. you’re hot but you’re kind and you’re sexy as hell and you know that, but you don’t act like you know it.

- you bring him upstairs and he’s looking over everything you have in your dimly lit, yellowy apartment. you have a lot of things to observe, but you beckon him to the couch while you get him a beer from your fridge. you’re not drinking anything. you just sit next to him on your knees, leaning against the back of your couch. he thanks you. he means it.

“it’s a nice place.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “you own it? or do you rent?”

“i own it. i’ve been working since i was young and my parents hardly ever let me spend a penny.” you tell him. he’s impressed. more than. “it smells like brownies permanently, i think.”

he smiles, watching you look around. his eyes fall on your lips, on your body. “mm no, smells like you.” he states, eyes falling on the little painting of a cake on the wall.

you giggle, “me? my perfume?”

“mmm no.” he said. “you smell good.”

“thank you,” you grinned. “so do you.”

he chuckled against the lip of his beer bottle, dimples showing. “so you really don’t cook for all your dates?”

“i never have before, no.” you say, hiding half your face as if you’re shy. “i’m sorry if it was a bit much. or forward of me. i’m just so against bar food, it’s a culinary disgrace and i just… i like my kitchen. and i love to cook.”

“i’m not complaining,” he replied. he set his beer down.

- you got to talking about food and he told you all about the phase he had where he’d get taco bell every tuesday. you’re not a fast food person. he knows that. but you’re laughing in disgust when he tells you the things he used to get and it feels oddly worth it. he’s inching closer to you in conversation, leaning in more every minute. and you’re talking very closely and all of your expressions are so beautiful. more than pretty or cute or gorgeous, you are beautiful.

- your hands are resting on his knee. both of them, overlapping each other. he’s smirking at you, the sly remark you just made with the most innocent eyes. it’s getting later into the night, it’s almost 1am. the date is going on a lot longer than he thought. you were probably going to make him leave soon. he hasn’t even kissed you. he could have to shut you up. you talked a lot but you were very passionate and you also dove into a lot about him. he could have shut you up. he wasn’t against kissing spontaneously to get what he wanted but he was listening to you… he wanted to hear what you had to say.

- the night continued and you had your head rested against the back of the couch, listening to him talk about tennis. when he stopped, you’d ask another question about gameplay so he’d keep talking and you just listened. and he was enjoying it. more than anything he’d enjoyed in a long while. and as you continued to get tired, so does he. he wants to kiss you, he tells himself he will, he’ll definitely kiss you when you finish your sentence and no. you both, tired, slowly fall asleep. it’s a mistake that he passed on coffee for beer.

- it’s the most connection he’s had with anyone in a while. the way you spoke to him was different, was fun, was filled with your personality and your sweetness. your head fell on his chest and you slept the night on the couch like that. at least it wasn’t his car.

- he wakes up first to the girl who he didn’t fuck or even kiss laying on his chest. it’s a trap is the first thought in his head. how did he get to stay over without fucking you? some loophole. he ignores the fact he was too invested in you as a person to do anything. though he wished he did, you’re perfect.

- you wake up and you sit up like nothing happened. “fuck.” you sigh, rubbing your eye. “fell asleep.” you smile. “hi.”

“hey,” he replied and he’s unable to stop the smile he has in response. “i think i’ll take that coffee now if you’re offering.”

“was just about to ask,” you grinned. you got up, your hair just a little messy, and hopped over to the kitchen to make the coffee. like you didn’t spend a night on a stranger’s chest. like you didn’t just wake up on top of him. he liked that about you. “do you take cream, milk, sugar?”

patrick got up from the couch, walked over to you. “black.” he said. “hey- about that-“

“don’t worry about it.” you smile. “it got so late, i don’t even remember falling asleep.”

he wouldn’t have apologized but something about sleeping over without fucking you just felt selfish and unfair. like he didn’t pay for it. and he felt even more that way because not only had you fed him, but you had cooked for him. his way of thinking was fucked but it was how it was. “you’re sweet.” you said.

“hm?”

“you’re sweet. you care too much, though.” you tell him. nobody has ever said those words to him in his life. he grins. “sense of adventure. sleeping on a stranger’s couch by accident and the cause being passionate conversation.”

“it’s definitely something,” he takes the coffee from you. “thanks.” how is he supposed to leave now? coffee in hand.

“and i know you’re not looking for anything serious, so don’t read too much into it. i’ll do that for you.” you were so cheeky and he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you took down your hair, letting it fall. he should have fucked you…

- you talk as you make breakfast. you don’t mention that you’re doing so, but you are and he won’t stop you. he should be on his way, but you’re talking to him and he’s listening and he just can’t bring himself to make up an excuse to go. you’re as sweet as the things you make and it’s hard to ignore the fact that you are different. maybe it’s the fact he’s not currently clouded by lust, the need to have you in that way isn’t very forefront, seeing as he had a place to stay without it.

- “waffles or pancakes? because every time i ask this, i get someone’s bullshit answer. there’s a very real answer to this.”

“really? and what if i’m wrong?”

“then no food.” you say, pointing at him with your spatula. “okay go.”

“waffles.” he says.

“mmm nope.” you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “you’re a victim of the syrup puddle delusion. pancakes are sooo much better, they are so absorbent. it’s the only way to go. especially with chocolate chip.” and the conversation is dumb. but you’re young, he can’t expect you to be all serious. it’s new and it’s fresh and it’s fun. you’re fun.

- noon hits and he’s helping you clean. “i’m sorry if i’ve held you hostage,” you tell him, setting aside the freshly cleaned plates. “hope you know you were free to go hours ago.”

“i knew, i knew,” he chuckled. “it’s not every day a professional wants to hold you hostage and cook for you.”

“so you just want me for my cooking. typical. typical,” you tease. “here i thought you were different.”

“the cooking is a bonus. not that your food isn’t amazing, it is. really fucking good. it’s also not often i like who’s cooking it.”

“oh my god you like me? really?” you tease him. it’s cute.

“shhh, okay,” he nods. he’s not a liar. “yeah. i think so.”

“crazy.” you whisper, dragging your hand over his arm and back as you walk past him, smiling. you’re different, you’re doing things that are making him feel things deeper than he probably should. he tells himself it’s just because it’s longer than he thought- but he did wake up with his arms around you… that’s something he’s never done with any woman he’s ever slept with, intentional or not. but he also didn’t sleep with you, sleep with you.

- he says goodbye around 1pm. he’s overstayed for sure but you don’t show any signs of it. and the conversation was never boring. it was a lot of talking and as he stood at the exit of the bakery, people trying to brush by him to get in (other staff were working obviously), he couldn’t even get the chance to kiss you goodbye. not even that. though as he walked back to his car, he found that he really had wanted to.

- he’s back on tinder later. a place to stay is a place to stay. he’s got a process and he’s safe, he didn’t sleep with you. he’s scrolling, but suddenly he’s extra picky. it’s weird. all these ideal matches, women he’d be fine with are suddenly just not it. you’re not out of his mind, but that’s fine, another woman would erase you. no problem. if only he could pick one, find one… if all else fails he’d go to a bar and find one there.

- he doesn’t. he gives up. he sleeps in his car. and he’s thinking about you. how you brought him back to your business, cooked a whole meal for him, a nice meal, an expensive one, let him sleep over, and made you breakfast and you let him slip out the door. was that casual for you? he couldn’t help but to think about it, about you. about how the closest he got to you was while you were both asleep. it was an occurrence that just… didn’t happen in the day to day. he fell asleep before he could do anything, that was rare, that was comfortable, that was… strange. and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. a day passes in between.

- he’s unsurprised when you message again a day later, but glad. the sun is setting, he has to move his phone to avoid the orange glare.

y: hey :)

p: hi, how are you?

y: i’m good, how are you?

p: the same.

y: what are you up to?

p: not much. just finished at the court.

he lied, of course. he had to come across as busy, that’s just how it was when girls called back. too busy.

y: ooh fun.

y: any chance you want to swing by? i baked something new and i need a test audience.

how could he say no? free food was free food… he climbed into the front seat and put his keys in the ignition. and he was going to see you again.

- he came in, different jeans, different shirt. a t-shirt this time, black. biceps and forearms on display. your bakery is busy and smells like fresh bread and chocolate and there you are, smiling, gorgeous, helping a little girl hold the baked goods for her mom, teaching her to hold the bag ‘nice and straight’. he catches your eye, wandering in, looking at the atmosphere when it’s full of people. “patrick, hi,” you smile, coming out from behind the counter.

he once again can’t help but grin back at you. “hey. wow. it’s busy.”

“it is, it is, but we close in an hour, so it’ll die down. i didn’t think you’d be here now, i mean, i texted like ten minutes ago…”

it dawns on him that he just launched into action at your call. well, fuck. that didn’t look so good for him. he chuckled to himself, a little embarrassed. “i might have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“for me,” you grin, teasing.” no, i get it, who doesn’t?”

he chuckles, “uh-huh, okay, yeah- i wouldn’t know.”

“thought so,” you say, and you take his hand, leading him into the back, where your little chefs are doing their last tasks, cleaning up for the day. “m’kay, come here. try this.” you pick up a fork grab him a bite and you’re driving it to his mouth. he’s got no choice but to eat it. he does, laughing at how you just force fed him something, but his expression changes as how good it is. “it’s good?”

he speaks with his mouth still full- “it’s so good, what the fuck?”

you grin. it’s the first of many times he’s going to be force fed new items, he just doesn’t know that just yet. “you like it? really?”

“mmm- really, yeah. what is that?”

“it’s cinnamon and chocolate with a vanilla base to mimic simple pastry. its got a bit of a fudge to the chocolate and the cinnamon is freshly ground. it’s a cupcake inspired by a churro.” you jump up and down just a little. he could kiss you for this.

“can i buy this off you right now?”

“bold to think you can buy anything off of me.” you scoff, picking up one of the tray. you grab the icing spatula and quickly spread the light brown icing over it and reach over to a little dark brown bottle. you drizzle the dark liquid over it and sprinkle something on top and hand it to him.

“i’ve got ten dollars in my pocket,”

“thought you were just happy to see me,” you mock-sighed, then smiled. “no way i’m letting you pay, that’s crazy. you’re my tester.”

he rolled his eyes a little, smiling back. “just might be over this cupcake.”

“really?” you stepped a little closer, cupcake in hand, looking up at him. you were sexy, and you made it look innocent- it was bad, it was really bad, there were too many people here to do what he wanted to do. he twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to smile too much. “we close in thirty.”

“thought you said an hour?”

“thirty.” you replied, grabbing the oven gloves and taking a few final things out, beginning to wrap things. “i’ll be up in twenty if you want to go up? grab anything in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

you really did lure him back to you with food. he grinned to himself, nodding and heading upstairs they way he knew how from last time.

- he does help himself to the cucumber in your fridge. he figures you’ll miss it least and it’ll tide him over. it’s weird being in someone’s apartment without them. especially after only knowing them a few hours. but it’s worth it, you come with free food and a place to potentially stay. he tells himself that, anyway. he’s using you. or so he tells himself.

- he takes the time to walk around your apartment, seeing more than just the living room couch. you aren’t the most neat person ever, but you keep your things where they need to be. he peeks into your room, looking at the curtains that drape the windows, the big bed, the bedside table with so many things on it. soon enough you’re upstairs, he’s on your couch again. you open the door and the scent of the bakery downstairs floods your apartment. he’s almost sane about the way you take your hair down and unbutton your cardigan. he’s pretending like you aren’t hot. and when you sit on the couch next to him you sit closely. “hi.”

“hey.”

“do you drink wine? red wine?”

“only if i’m not drinking it alone.”

you laugh, “it’s more for me than for you. i need it after today.”

“fair.” he followed you with his eyes as you climbed over the back of the couch and into the kitchen, reaching for the wine bottle. “so it was a busy day. i knew you’d get customers, but that was wild.”

“very,” you screwed the bottle open and got two glasses and you filled them up generously. “we had a little girl come in and she dropped her dad’s entire order and he asked that we make him more for free. i had to explain that we couldn’t do that- it was around $200 wasted on the floor. he was sooo angry.”

patrick met you in the kitchen and you handed him a glass of wine. “so what did you end up doing?”

“i kicked him out.” you said, drinking the wine. “i don’t like disrespectful people- he demanded i make more, even after i offered a different cake.”

“good for you.” patrick nodded. “i wouldn’t take that either. guy wouldn’t even take the cake you offered?”

you finished your generous glass. he wouldn’t judge. “no. which is crazy considering the cake matched his fucking price- god it makes me so mad. he wouldn’t even take what i, myself, spent time and money on.”

patrick enjoyed your passion. “if it would make you feel better, i probably would have eaten the ruined product.”

“should i have called on you earlier for clean up? maybe then it wouldn’t have felt so much like a waste.” you laughed. “i actually wasn’t sure if i should at all.- sorry, the wine- that was weird of me to say.”

he shook his head, “not weird. it’s fair. i don’t usually text post-date.”

“mmm. it didn’t go well enough? holy fuck- i am so sorry, i should not chug wine.”

he laughed, stepping just a little closer. “no it’s just… hm.” he stopped himself. “it was actually one of the best dates i’ve been on in a while.”

“you waited for me to call on you again? like a girl?”

“no, i just.. i don’t usually go on second dates.”

“oh.” you nodded, pouring yourself more wine and topping his off. “but you showed up.”

“maybe i’m just here for the wine and baked goods.”

you lean your back against the counter but somehow you’re closer to him. maybe he took a step forward. either way… “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone about your soft spot for me.”

he smirked, “who said anything about a soft spot?”

you lean just a little more toward him. “don’t tell me i actually lured you back here with food. i think you like me.”

“yeah? guess i need a better poker face then, hm?”

you sipped again, “or… you could admit that you like my company. or me. either one. both.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, fun. you’re looking for fun.” you nod, setting your glass on the counter and hopping up on it. patrick takes the extra space that you used to stand in and he’s still taller than you sitting on the counter. he smells good like he did the other day, cologne and cigarettes and to him. you note the biceps and you didn’t get to see when he wore a sweater the other night. they’re nice… he looks over you still, close to you. “nothing more than fun?”

“maybe a little more than fun.”

“oh? and it’s not the wine?”

“no, it’s not the wine,” he scratches the back of his head.

“soooo…?”

“might be you.”

you giggled, cheering just a little. “oh my god, he admits it. this is crazy, should i bake a cake? what do i win, a third date?”

“you’re ambitious,” he grins, stepping closer to you. his body is between your knees, he’s looking down at you. your heart picks up pace.

“tell me to my face you don’t ever want to see me again.”

“i can’t do that.”

“thought so.”

- he leans forward the same way you tilt your head up. he’s got that sick little smirk on his lips and his eyes fall from your eyes to your lips.

“so third date?”

“maybe,” he’s getting closer. his body is as close to yours as it can be without being completely pressed against. your legs are on either side of his hips, it’s suggestive, it’s sexy, and you are smiling like you’re proud of yourself for something. he taps under your chin, “fine.”

you smile wider, eyes meeting his lips as well. you’re no better than him. especially after that chin tap. he could rush into this, kiss you hard, but there’s something about the slowness that is enticing and hot. your eyelids and his both close just slightly, half-lidded, his nose brushes yours, your wine glass is heard being set back down on the counter. his scent mixed with the wine on his breath is intoxicating in itself.

- the phone rings. loud. it’s loud and it’s startling and it ruins everything. usually he wouldn’t give up at something like that but it’s… you. and it was ruined. he could have kissed you and he didn’t because it wasn’t perfect. which was strange. because usually he wouldn’t give that much of a fuck. he backed away and you looked at him apologetically, slipping off the counter, your hand trailing down his arm as you did, before getting the phone. it’s one of your product suppliers calling because he thought you were still open. you laugh, apologizing to the supplier.

- patrick feels like he should leave. usually it’s so cut and dry, he goes on the date, he goes back, he fucks, he leaves. it’s a simple process and it works. but you are you and you’re different and he hasn’t even kissed you and he’s standing in your kitchen waiting for you to finish on the phone after a near-first kiss. now the regular him in his regular pattern wouldn’t count any kiss with a number but you’ve got some grip on him that he can’t deny. even got him to say yes to a third date. his hand in his pocket. who is he to deny himself anything?

- he feels like a horny teenager with a girl whose parents are in the driveway. it’s not the time for a kiss, he’s listening to your conversation and it seems like there’s a calculating issue.

- he’s standing, red wine glass in hand. he’s looking over the ladybug magnets on your fridge. he takes a sip, then places the glass on the counter. he hears the click of the phone back on it’s base and turns to look at you, “where were we?” you ask, hopping back over to him and pulling him in by his shirt. he didn’t see that coming, but gladly, his lips are on yours. it’s a strong kiss, he’s pressed against you, bent just a little because he’s too tall. your hands holding his face, your hips connecting with his. he grabs your waist, keeping you there. his hands are strong and guiding and they are surprisingly still. and it’s a kiss. a long kiss. surprisingly long to patrick who is used to a multitude of messy kisses in the heat of a moment. this moment is heated differently. and the kiss is long and hard with gentle breaks between for breaths and it’s just… nice. he tastes the way he smells and apparently so do you. unsurprisingly sweet with the taste of wine.

- you pull away first. not him. you. he would keep kissing you if you didn’t stop. his lips stay parted and you hover over them a second longer before you pull away entirely. “so about that third date… i think we should-“

- he sits with you on the couch again and he asks you about you. your bakery stories. your culinary school stories. and he’s laughing and so are you and the bottle of wine is done for and you haven’t even kissed again. he wants to kiss you. he’s staring at your lips and he wants to kiss you again. he can’t stop thinking about how it felt. who knew a kiss without sex was still so fucking good? he hadn’t kissed anyone like since- well since Tashi, but Tashi wasn’t ever feeling the same way on the other end of things but you so were. you were and this made for probably one of his top five kisses. top three. top two.

- the third date is at a restaurant you deem ‘good’ and when dinner is over, he walks you back to your apartment above the bakery and you kiss him at the door. another good kiss. shorter than the first. it’s somehow only your second kiss and he’s known you for about a week. but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know all of the things about you. soon enough you have plans to see each other again.

- it’s over lava cake now. you tried two different recipes and you need him to try both and he’s completely down. you sit on the counter and you make him open his mouth to give him the bites you’ve perfectly prepared with the side of fresh strawberries and it’s erotic, somehow, the way your thumb moves over his lower lip to remove the excess chocolate. not only that, but you put your thumb in your own mouth. you’re teasing him. you’re evil, he deducts.

“better or worse than the first?”

“shuttt uppp,” he drags it out as he kisses you. what is known to him as the third kiss between you. kissing you with no intention of bringing you to your bed is something addictive. maybe it’s just you. the way you kiss him. your hand travels up the back of his neck and into his hair and you’re grinning when you part for air, his hands are on your waist and he’s pressed against you. it’s hard to stop kissing you. he finds it every time. you taste like chocolate and strawberries.

- you kiss him, letting his hand slide up the back of your shirt, his warm hands on your skin. you pull away, “you want to go upstairs?” you breathe.

“i still have to compare the two.”

“there’s better things upstairs to eat, i promise,” you grin. “was that so bad.”

“that was not so bad but from you i think it might be.”

“oh i knew it, but i had to make the joke at some point.” you smile and he smiles back at you before kissing you again. and he just kisses you. over and over and over. and he never even goes upstairs that night.

- he gets to kiss you more often. you see him more often. he’s over at yours or you go to a park and it’s just nice. the consistency is surprisingly nice and he doesn’t even mind sleeping in his car, he’s got something good going. he hasn’t had sex in a while but it’s worth it, really worth it. he didn’t want to ditch the lifestyle but it was you and you were smart and kind and a little bit mean in a sexy way and he was only getting older. he deleted tinder.

- he’s kissing you, “patrick- I have to- go back- downstairs,” he’s kissing you all he can to get you to stay. He slept over on the couch and you brought him coffee and a bakery croissant so he’s not letting you go. it’s a work day. he knows that. he pulls you onto the couch with him and you’re giggling, saying that you really need to get back to work, but his hand his gently squeezing your chest and sliding over your waist so you can spare a few minutes. you kiss like teenagers, a lot of touching but nothing too serious. patrick is a fan of the change of pace, of the anticipation, of you, so he’ll gladly kiss you until your lips are pink and puffy with no sexual gratification. it’s nice to be able to sleep over without that obligation.

- when you’re across from him at dinner, you ask him what you are. and his brain is telling him to say something fake, protect himself, protect the player motif, but his heart is so in it. he has a big heart and a lot to give and it’s been misplaced far too fucking often. so his brain decides to tell him to go with his heart and he asks if you want to call yourself his girlfriend. he hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tashi. and that was fucking ages ago. you are the first person able to crack him enough into something that could be serious. at first he thinks maybe you’re not into it, but you grin. “so that makes you my boyfriend…”

“yeah,” he nods, mouth pinched a little to avoid the pending grin. “that work for you?”

“i’ll have to check with my other two boyfriends, but i think it’ll be fine.”

- he chases you up the stairs to your apartment and kisses you against the door even with the threat of falling all the way back down all those steps. you manage to get the door open and you pull him inside before pulling away from the kiss and kicking off your shoes as you run from him. he chases you just a little, enough, you’re giggling as you throw your cardigan on the couch. patrick is opposite of you with the couch between so it could go either way so he jumps the couch, catching you and kissing you, picking you up, the billowy skirt you’re in sliding up your legs as they wrap around him. you kiss him, captured in his arms and he presses you to another wall, then another, and then he’s crawling over you in your bed. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone. he’s never had the intention to touch someone with such gentle hands. its always been rough, always lust-laced. not here, not how.

- and it isn’t even sex. it’s just touching, heavy petting. it’s your denial of it that makes him want you so much more as your hand moves up and down his length. he’s big, you note that, it kind of scares you a little in the ‘how is that supposed to fit’ kind of way, but it’s good. you’re good with your hands, it’s probably from all the dough-kneading you’ve had to do in your lifetime. he’s weak for you and you only. you really were taking this slowly and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. his hands slide over the skin of your waist, over your ass, coming back to your front, pushing aside your underwear, fingers that rub your clit and make you gasp. he’s experienced, you know that, but you kiss him and he tastes like smoke and you can forget it. besides, you know you’ve already won him over. his fingers slip inside of you and it’s dawns on him that you are probably one of the best things to happen to him in a while. aside from sex, the lack thereof is something so enticing, so fucking intoxicating, and the way you moan his name without him having to truly be inside of you, it’s so rewarding. he thinks he might just stay, as if he hasn’t already agreed to it.

- dating you comes with gaining a few pounds, that’s a no-brainer. you feed him well. how can he say no when everything you cook is so fucking good and there’s never a lack of dessert around? with tennis still in the picture he’s turning most of it into muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from getting just a little bit softer. he hasn’t slept in his car in three days, he’s in your bed and you’re laying on his chest, your hands tracing gently patterns on the skin of his stomach, tracing the hair down his abdomen to the v of his crotch and back up again. he’s not even thinking he’s glad to not be sleeping in his car, he’s contented with the fact you’re laying on him the way you are. and he’s only glad to not be in his car because you wouldn’t be there.

- “we never go to your place,” you say to him, “hiding bodies there or something?”

patrick scratches the back of his neck, scrunching up his nose just a little. “uh… something like that. it’s not very finished.”

“when have i ever minded a mess?”

“mmm, never, but i don’t think you’d like it.”

you shook your head, “what if i kissed you? then would you let me come over?”

“you kiss me all the time, what currency is that passive?”

you roll your eyes, “oral.”

“also not hard to come by.”

“prove it.” he’s glad you give him something to do to drop the topic of his living situation.

- he’s coming to understand what a roux is and how to actually make food now that there’s so many ingredients around. you’re teaching him and he’s begging you to come to the court and try tennis, but you tell him you that these things are not comparable. he picks you up and puts you on the counter as always and kisses you into it. maybe his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt. “patrick. we have food in the oven that is almost done, focus.”

he kisses your neck. “will it burn?”

“if you don’t stop, it will.” you smile against his kisses, his hand creeping up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs. “patrick.” your tone is warning but you don’t mean it.

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his tongue delving between yours. his other hand is on your lower back, bringing you closer to the counter’s edge. he stops in his tracks.

“you’re not wearing anything under this?”

you smile against his lips, “mmm… nope.” and the kissing is only intensified. he pulls you closer and he tilts you back a little so his fingers can push inside of you. they curl perfectly, without sex he’s learned how to navigate you so well. you’re moaning and he’s taking it in like nothing he’s ever had before. this is domestic, this is perfect. he’s so into it, hard in his jeans. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted and you tease him with open legs and no underwear but you won’t let him fuck you.

- you really do want him to. so badly. god it’s almost a force of its own how badly you need him to. but the excuse this time is that the food is genuinely going to burn which is to your advantage because he picks up the pace at which his fingers are moving so that he can finish what he started before quickly and thoroughly washing his hands and taking the food out of the oven, you just breathe hard. he fixes your skirt so it once again drapes over your legs with a quick smile your way. god, he’s perfect.

- he’s enjoying himself in a way he didn’t know was possible. it brings him a strange joy when you introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend and they’re all impressed when they find out he’s a professional tennis player. “can’t be good for your sport to be fed eclairs all the time,” one of your guy friends joked with him. “you look good though, man. and she looks really happy.”

- it’s not like you wanted the sex to be special. no, you’re not a virgin. it’s not going to be magic. things already do feel pretty good if you’re honest but it’s getting to the point where you’re getting a little too horny to exist properly around each other. you’re adults, you’ve got all the time in the world to be romantic but as of lately it’s been feeling like there’s some magnetic, otherworldly force. patrick himself is slightly denying himself the pleasure because it feels so good to exist in that state of anticipation. you on the other hand, you’ve just been living to tease. you’re not easy, you don’t want to be easy, if you’re easy you turn into every other woman. you take pleasure in making him wait, pulling him close, touching him in ways that he won’t soon forget.

- he watches you at work. comes home from the court, showers and comes back downstairs and you’re busy in the kitchen. your employees have learned to work around you when you stop to kiss him. it’s been a few months of this. he loves how passionate you are about your work and if he’s lucky you’ll walk by his table, bring him coffee or a treat and sometimes you’ll make him try a few things, he never has the option to put it in his mouth himself. you do that little thing he loves, wiping his lip with your finger and taking whatever excess and putting it in your own mouth.

- he helps you close. he turns off all the ovens and he helps to wipe down and sweep. you’re in the kitchen with him alone now and you kiss him every single time he passes you. strong kisses, ones that mean something. paired with maybe a peck or two. every kiss longer than the next. his hands always on your waist, always holding you close against him. he presses you against the wall, you giggle as you shut the blinds with your free hand. “mmm- patrick.”

“yeah?”

“you want to go upstairs?”

“i’m busy,” he replies, kissing your neck. you sigh against him happily.

“patrick.”

“uh-huh?”

“upstairs,” you urge him, eyes meeting his between kisses. “i spend all day down here, upstairs…”

he’s clueless, used to what he’s used to, but he’ll do what you ask, following as you hold his hands up the stairs. “am i cooking tonight or do you still feel like it? i feel like i’ve really got that-“

you kiss him the moment you’re upstairs. it’s been a long day. he takes it happily, but it’s something more. the kisses connect and disconnect with more passion than to let this kiss have no intention. you’re grinning against his lips and he is once again backing you against the wall. his hand cradles behind your head and his tongue is in your mouth. he’s got his other hand on the back of your hip, sliding down over your ass. you hum into it, the breaths between short and pretty, your smiles mutual.

your hand slips up his chest, grabbing the collar of his sweater and using it to kiss him harder. your other hand creeps up the back of his neck. and then you start to pull his sweater up over his head.

- the difference isn’t much. but he gladly takes off his sweater and his shirt. it’s no different. except you push him backward, grinning. he takes it with a smile, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. you push him back to your bed where he falls onto it and you begin to crawl over him. his hands on your waist as he adjusts where he’s sitting, your hand slipping down into his pants. no belt today, you’re lucky. he groans a little breathily as your hand does what it does best. he’s a fan of skirts, hiking it up, you do the very opposite and pull it down, off, thrown somewhere into some void. he sits up, meeting you, cupping your face.

your hand slips back out and you grind against him instead, his kisses varying in length just to be able to breathe out the way he needs. you breathe in his air, humming as you kiss him. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

“take your pants off?”

he chuckles between kisses and lifts you gently just so he can undo his zipper and pull them off. you grin, sitting back against him, grinding just a little. the new friction is good, elicits a larger groan from him. “what do you want from me?” he mumbles.

“do i have to want something?”

“have to want something. whatever it is, it’s yours. i already offered to cook.”

you laugh, kissing him still, “patrick, love.”

“yeah?” you smirk, eyelashes fluttering. his hand slides up your bare hip. “oh, fuck.”

“yeah, about that,” you grin, kissing him again. he groans, his head tilting back as you kiss him harder. he takes it all. it’s you. it’s everything he wants.

- his hands shimmy your underwear down your legs and his fingers meet your clit in seconds. he’s into it, his fingers slip inside you. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“need you.” you mumble back. “please.”

your please is something he’s never gotten before. it’s all real and happening and he’s more than content with the ask. his boxers are off and he flips you onto your back. he’s not going to make you do the work the first time you have sex. he’s waited months to fuck you, he’s doing it himself and he’s doing it right. he knows you keep condoms in your top drawer, he reaches over, grabs one, and rips it open with his teeth. the wrapper flits to the floor.

- he’s big. you know this very well. you’ve thought about it, dreamt about it, fantasized with your hand between your thighs about it, but it’s real and it’s a threat. the thing is he’s not just long. around 7 inches maybe high 6 inches but he’s also thick in girth. you’re kissing and it’s rough but he takes the time to mumble, “is this okay?” he asks like you’re a virgin as his tip bumps your entrance- he pretends it’s not the hottest thing. he pretends you don’t make him weak. you tell him yes and you hold him a little extra close as he starts to push into you. it hurts- you haven’t had anyone inside of you like this in two years maybe. for him it’s been a little less, but it’s felt like forever. he’s never been discontented with your sexual activities but this just beats everything. you’re tight and respectfully, he goes slowly, both of you moaning and grasping for some semblance of reality. the wait is already deemed worth it, him burying his cock in you as far as it’ll go.

- he moves in and out slowly, but you’re not new to this. he soothes you, rubbing up your hip, your upper thigh, “taking it so well. so good. it’s okay?”

“mhm-“ you sigh, “fuck, oh my god.”

it’s more than satisfying. it’s more than he even thought it could be. “you feel so good, so perfect-.” his words make you moan and he takes it happily. he’s increasing his pace, getting harsher with his thrusts and you’re taking it all perfectly. it hurts but masking that under the pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely. “god, you’re-“ he groans into your mouth. so many months without, he could have lasted so much longer if it was in regular practice but you’re tight and you’re moaning in his ear, his name is falling off your lips. “gorgeous…”

“uh-huh,” you smile, kissing him as he fucks you into the mattress. that innocent smile on you that is so knowing, so fucking hot. it’s taking patrick all he can not to finish right then. sex with you is everything. everything. all-consuming, entirely satisfying

- forty minutes of completely sweaty, messy, perfect sex, he’s pulling out, and you’re breathing hard. “oh my god…” you say, rolling back onto your back. “i’ve been going without that?”

patrick smirks at the ceiling before rolling over, looking at you. he met you with the intention of sex with you but looking at you he couldn’t imagine that ever being true. there was no way it would have ever been as good as it just was if he’d pulled his moves all that time ago. it felt like forever. “going without?”

“i liked the tease,” you nod back, smiling just a little. “i’m hungry, are you hungry? i’ll make dinner in a few.”

he smiles at your need to feed him. “just a little.” and he begins to kiss down your bare chest, your stomach, between your thighs. “you’re so pretty, you know that?” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “prettiest.”

“i might…”

“so so pretty,” he kisses your opposite thigh. the shivers you had just felt return with a hot flush of goosebumps throughout your entire body. and his tongue works that same magic you know it to.

- you of course, make too much food after that. glowing with the high of sex and three great orgasms. patrick sits a little bit quiet. if he’d done this and been out the door he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be sitting at the table, listening to you weigh up and down about making brownies or cake. you’re so excited. you’re so happy. and he’s doing something good for once. he’s making someone happy and there’s no catch. he’s yours. if he’d fucked you and walked out, shoes in hand, he would have missed out on something so perfect. it’s something to think about .

- when you notice how quiet he is, you come and sit on his lap in the chair. “are you okay?” you ask, just a little concerned. after all, he is patrick and you did have a bit of worry that he’d finally have what he wants and go. that was irrational, you convinced yourself. but he’s so quiet. “dinner is almost done.”

“i’m okay,” he responds, hands slinking around your waist. “more than. i’m just… i’m really happy. i hope you are too.”

“i am really happy- what are you thinking?” you smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“thinking that-“ he turns your head toward his and kisses you, “-i should tell you that i’m happy.”

“just that?”

“just that.” and he’s more than contented with that and you. he wouldn’t have ever said so. he never pictured the sentence. ever.

- what’s another five pounds for the woman you’re probably in love with anyway? crisis, patrick zweig head over heels. crisis. it’s new. tashi was never love, tashi was lust and the idea of perfect. you. you are pretty. and you’re kind. and you’re feeding him a cookie with other cookies baked into it and asking if it’s better than the cinnamon one. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you.

- he moves in. you’re glad to have him, especially after he confesses about his car. there’s a small argument but it’s just because this whole time you were banishing him to sleeping in his car!!! how could he let you do that to him, poor baby. he’s not a poor baby, he’s a grown man, but he enjoys being kissed all over his face. you smell like chocolate and vanilla from the cakes of the day.

- he fucks you on the floor of your bakery, shutters closed, open sign turned off, the place dark, he’s fucking you on the floor. “god, you feel so good.” he groans. “so perfect.”

you hum in agreement, “fuck, patrick, god-“ and to think just ten minutes ago, you were making him try cake fillings for a wedding cake. you tasted like strawberry filling and he tasted like lemon and he could fuck you forever, he swears. floor or not. had to be some sort of health code violation. who was he to complain?

“fuck-“ he obeys, he goes harder. you moan and it slips from your lips. “fuck, i love you.”

- you both hear it. you grab his face and you kiss him so hard that his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen. he doesn’t falter, he fucks you harder the way you wanted and even adds his hand between you to play with your clit. you finish with him and you don’t let him pull out before you kiss him again, a second hard kiss, completely pressing him against you in all forms. “i love you too. a lot actually. more than you know.” you’ve been waiting to say it. “more than most… things.”

you’re naked and he’s still inside you and it’s a little oddly timed. he cant take back what he said. nor can he deny he means it. “more than chocolate cake?”

“woahhh too far, know your limits. that’s like asking you if you love me more than a tennis ball.”

he laughs, he laughs really hard, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “i think i love you a bit more than a tennis ball, what the fuck. a tennis ball?”

“you love tennis,” you giggle, holding his face in your hands. “why not a tennis ball?”

he keeps laughing, “it’s a ball.”

“tennis ball. you love tennis. makes sense to me.”

“over chocolate cake?”

you laugh with him, covering your face. but he moves your hands and kisses you again. a long, meaningful, and always perfect.

- he loves sleeping next to you more than most things. his favourite thing is probably the way you look in the morning before coffee. he keeps the curtains open when the sun sets so he gets to watch the golden light on your face. you kiss him every chance you get, no matter what, and he’s in love with it. and you. all of you. the sex is never boring, you taste like something sweet every time. he’s getting good at baking simple things like cupcakes and cookies and he can say he makes a decent mac and cheese because of you. he gets a job thanks to you and your connections and it’s a good job. he comes home to you, wakes up to you. and all this because some bar food wasn’t up to par.

- he finally gets you on the court and you’re terrible. it’s his turn to laugh at you, the way you do when he somehow turns batter into a thick dough. somehow you manage to hit balls backward. “it’s a good thing we’re in a long-term relationship and you love me, right?”

“hmmm… maybe not so long-term,” he jokes, dropping his racket and coming to kiss you.

- the thing about patrick is that after trying this, having this, in theory, he never wanted it again. it was messy. all he knew. messy. sex was easy and simple and was messy in the best way. he thought maybe it was his lack of faith that it could ever be like this. so he never stopped being happy with you. why would he? every fight was talked out, mature, you didn’t fight back to be petty and you didn’t give him the silent treatment for revenge. you sure as hell didn’t leave him for his best friend. you were everything right. and he thought this was all bullshit- finding that person. the right person. how could he look at you, the person who changed his life around and saved him from living in his car and not think that you were one hundred percent, without a doubt, perfect for him. you were you. and you were never sure if one baked good was better than another and he knew, watching you stirring a bowl of something with a bit of flour on your upper cheek and in your hair, that this was where he was meant to be.

- he had that same thought a few years later when you told him you were pregnant.

- and then later, when you’re retired. you turn to baking scones. patrick’s rackets on the wall, trophies, and you, in the kitchen, asking him if he likes the blueberry with cream scone better than the raspberry earl grey scone. he’s still got his sweet tooth.

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rmadridcore · 17 days ago

Text

Wild Day In

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: You and Jude babysit your friend’s hyperactive 5 year old, battling snack mishaps, a bubble-filled bath explosion, and a mini tornado of energy.

Word Count: 3.9K

Masterlist

Author’s note: Heyyy 🤍 I was in the mood for fluff overload bc this week was a fever dream and soo much happened and none of it was good 😭 sooo here is a cutesy fic I wrote very quickly. Hope you’ll like it & don’t forget to tell me your thoughts! 🌸

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Jude is, without a doubt, one of the most considerate people you’ve ever met. He doesn’t just listen — he hears you. He’s thoughtful, always taking your perspective into account, and when it comes to making decisions, your opinion carries an almost sacred value for him. But, and this is a big but, sometimes the man is as stubborn as a remote control that refuses to work until you smack it just right.

Enter today’s situation.

Your friend called you in desperation, asking for a huge favor. She and her partner were off to a wedding, and their regular babysitter had fallen through. Would you and Jude be able to babysit her 5 year old son, Ollie, for the entire day and night?

Now, Ollie is an adorable little boy, the kind who can charm anyone in seconds. You and Jude had spent plenty of time with him before, and you both adored him, but an entire day and night? That was an entirely different ballgame.

You couldn’t say no. How could you? Ruining your friend’s plans wasn’t an option, and besides, how bad could it be?

When you told Jude about the arrangement, he seemed oddly enthusiastic, flashing his trademark grin. Jude loved kids, and Ollie was no exception. But that’s where his stubborn streak kicked in.

Ollie, bless his heart, was a handful. Hyperactive, tireless, loud, and joyful in a way that only 5 year olds can be. A sweet little menace, in other words.

You had begged Jude to ask his mom or your mom to help out, just in case things got overwhelming. But Jude? Absolutely not. He flat-out refused.

“We’ve got this,” he said, as if the two of you were seasoned parents. “It’s one kid. How hard can it be?”

No matter how many times you tried to change his mind, he was dead set on the idea of having Ollie all to yourselves. And, eventually, you caved. It’s just one day, you reminded yourself. What could possibly go wrong?

As you rearranged the cushions on the couch for the hundredth time, anxiously waiting for Ollie to arrive, you threw out one last Hail Mary.

“We can still call your mom, you know? Her experience would be pretty useful right about now.”

Jude, cool as a cucumber, flashed you a grin. “Y/N, you’re worrying too much. We’re going to be fine.”

Fine, you thought, eyeing him like he’d lost his mind. Sure, taking care of a hyperactive five year old for 24 hours was no big deal — if you were, say, a superhero. But realizing you weren’t going to win this battle, you let out a resigned sigh and went back to fluffing pillows.

The doorbell rang, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hi there!” you greeted Ollie once you opened the door with a wide smile as he launched himself at your knees, hugging them tight like you were his long-lost best friend. Your friend followed, looking both relieved and grateful as she set Ollie’s overnight bag on the floor.

“You guys are lifesavers. Seriously, thank you so much for watching him.” She placed a hand over her heart like she might cry with gratitude.

“No worries,” you said, giving Ollie’s fluffy hair a quick ruffle. “We’re going to have so much fun, right Ollie?”

Jude, standing tall behind you, added with a confident nod, “We promise he’ll still be in one piece when you get back.” You shot him a quick, anxious glance as your friend let out a nervous laugh.

“Just... try to keep him away from sugar before bed. He’ll get... well, crazier than usual.” She gave you instructions.

With a final hug for Ollie and another round of heartfelt thank-yous, your friend headed out the door, promising to keep her phone on 24/7, “just in case.”

You shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, steeling yourself for what was to come.

When you returned to the living room, Jude and Ollie were already on the couch, flipping through kids' channels. Jude turned to you with a deadpan expression.

“Can a 5 year old watch Goodfellas?”

You burst out laughing but quickly realized from his face that he was, in fact, being serious. “No, Jude. Absolutely not. 90s movie about mobsters is not suitable for a kindergartener!”

Jude shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

The afternoon, thankfully, went off without too much drama — at first. Jude and Ollie settled on watching PAW Patrol for a solid 20 minutes before Jude, ever the athlete, decided to take Ollie outside to teach him a few football tricks.

It started off perfectly. They passed the ball back and forth, Ollie giggling with every kick. But then, ten minutes in, disaster struck. Ollie, in a burst of over-enthusiasm, kicked the ball with every ounce of strength his tiny body could muster... right into Jude’s crotch.

Jude dropped to the ground in agony, his face contorted in pain as he clutched himself. “I’m fine,” he managed to croak out, though you weren’t so sure.

Meanwhile, Ollie, oblivious to the catastrophe he’d just caused, ran around the backyard, laughing like a mini maniac. Football wasn’t distracting him — it was fueling him.

And that’s when you realized: this kid loved to run.

Like, really run.

He was a blur of energy, darting around the yard with Jude in hot pursuit, though Jude was limping slightly from the earlier injury.

You, on the other hand, could barely keep up. At some point, you dropped down onto the grass, panting for breath, your sides aching.

“How is he still going?” you wheezed, watching as Ollie raced around Jude, who had finally caught up and scooped the boy into his arms.

Ollie hung upside down, laughing hysterically as Jude spun him in circles. Despite the chaos, the sight of Jude with Ollie, both of them laughing and carefree, made your heart swell. Exhausted as you were, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. Jude, for all his stubbornness, was in his element, and seeing him like this, with a kid who adored him, was enough to make your heart race for a completely different reason.

After a solid hour of chasing the little whirlwind around the backyard, you finally managed to corral him back into the kitchen.

“Okay, buddy,” you said, leaning down to Ollie’s eye level, your tone hopeful. “How about a snack now?” Surely, after all the running he’d done, he’d be exhausted and ready to wind down.

“Yeah! Snack time!” he cheered, still bursting with energy as his little arms flailed in excitement. He darted into the kitchen like his life depended on it. You exchanged a look with Jude, who simply shook his head, a mix of admiration and disbelief on his face.

“How does he have this much energy?” you whispered, half to yourself. Ollie’s endless stamina was slightly terrifying but also ridiculously adorable. Jude, ever the optimist, scooped Ollie up and sat him on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, little man. What’s it gonna be? Cookies, fruit, or a sandwich?” Ollie tapped his chin in exaggerated thought, his face scrunching up like he was about to make the most critical decision of his young life.

“I want a peanut butter sandwich!” His eyes lit up, and just as you were about to reach for the bread, he added with the utmost seriousness, “But I want to make it myself.”

You and Jude exchanged another look, the same thought crossing your minds. This could either be the cutest bonding moment, or a disaster of epic proportions. Given Ollie’s track record for chaos, you were leaning toward the latter.

You hesitated, trying to find the words to suggest otherwise. “Are you sure we should—” Before you could finish, Ollie hopped off the counter and dragged a chair over, determined to prove his culinary genius.

His little legs struggled to climb up, but he managed with the confidence only a 5 year old could have. You and Jude watched in amusement as he grabbed the loaf of bread with two hands and tossed it onto the counter, a few slices falling to the floor in the process.

Jude discreetly reached for the peanut butter jar, loosening the lid before handing it to Ollie, so that he wouldn’t struggle with opening it.

“Alright, chef,” Jude said with a smirk, glancing at you.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Ollie stacked the slices of bread in a crooked pile, beaming like he’d just created a masterpiece.

“First, you need bread,” he said, his little voice full of authority. Jude chuckled, trying to stifle his laughter. “Looks… great.” Ollie then opened the jar of peanut butter with ease, thanks to Jude’s secret assistance, and proudly held up a butter knife that was far too big for his tiny hands.

With the precision of a wrecking ball, he began smearing peanut butter onto the bread — or rather, onto the counter, with a few globs landing on the bread by accident.

“It’s perfect!” Ollie announced, a glob of peanut butter now stuck to his cheek, completely unaware of the mess he was making.

Jude bent down to inspect the "masterpiece" with exaggerated seriousness.

“Wow, this looks like a real chef’s special. What do you think, babe? Should we open a restaurant?”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “Oh, absolutely.”

But Ollie wasn’t done yet.

“Wait! We need juice!” He hopped off the chair and sprinted to the fridge with the speed of a mini Olympic sprinter.

In his excitement, he grabbed a juice box, squeezing it so hard that juice sprayed everywhere — his shirt, the counter, and even Jude’s face.

“Whoops!” Ollie giggled, looking completely unfazed by the chaos.

“Whoops is right,” you muttered, grabbing a towel to clean up the sticky mess while Jude stood there, wiping juice from his face with a defeated look.

He shook his head, now fully laughing. “This is going great.” You tossed the towel at him, grinning.

“You’re cleaning this up, by the way.” You took Ollie’s sticky hand and led him off to change his shirt.

When you came back, the little boy proudly sat on the counter with his lopsided, half-smeared sandwich in hand.

“Here! Try it!” he demanded, shoving the sandwich toward Jude. “I made it special for you!”

He glanced at you with mock horror in his eyes, clearly torn between supporting Ollie’s culinary adventure and protecting his taste buds.

“Special, huh? Well, I’m honored,” Jude said, taking the smallest, most hesitant bite he could manage.

You watched, thoroughly amused.

“Go on,” you teased, eyes twinkling. “It’s a chef’s special.” Jude struggled to chew the sticky mess, his voice strained as he forced out, “Mmm... delicious.”

Ollie beamed with pride. “Told you! I’m a chef!” You burst out laughing, patting Jude on the back as he finally swallowed.

“You’re a brave man.”

“Anything for you, chef,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek, only for you to wipe a smudge of peanut butter from the corner of his lips.

The little boy, satisfied with his work, hopped off the counter and ran off to the living room, leaving the kitchen a sticky, peanut-butter-coated disaster.

You both stood there for a moment, surveying the damage. The counter was smeared with peanut butter, the floor stained with juice, and somehow, there was still a glob of peanut butter in Jude’s hair.

“This might’ve been a bad idea,” Jude sighed, tossing the towel over his shoulder, but the fond smile on his face told you otherwise. You nudged him playfully, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

He looked down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “With you? Always.”

By the time bath time rolled around, you and Jude were already feeling the effects of a full day of babysitting. Ollie had run circles around the both of you, literally, and now it was time to tackle what could be the most unpredictable part of the night. You knew one thing for sure: getting a hyperactive five year old into a bath was going to be anything but peaceful.

Jude clapped his hands together. “Alright, little man, bath time!” he announced, flashing Ollie a wide smile. Ollie’s eyes widened like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world.

“But I don’t need a bath! I’m not even dirty!” he protested, looking down at his dirt-streaked knees and peanut butter-stained shirt with a completely straight face.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure that peanut butter in your hair says otherwise.”

“No way,” Ollie argued, puffing out his chest. “Peanut butter is for eating, not for washing off!”

Jude knelt down to his level, trying his best to reason with the kid. “Come on, buddy, how about we make it fun? You can bring your toys, and we’ll have bubbles!”

“BUBBLES?!” Ollie’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Okay! But I want a lot of bubbles!”

You grinned, grabbing the bubble bath solution from the cupboard. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give you more bubbles than you’ve ever seen.”

With that promise, Ollie finally agreed to the bath, darting up the stairs with the same boundless energy he’d had all day. You and Jude followed close behind, exchanging amused glances.

Once you reached the bathroom, Ollie was already busy picking out which toys were worthy of accompanying him into the tub. Jude turned on the water, adding a generous amount of bubble bath until the tub was practically overflowing with fluffy white bubbles. Ollie clapped his hands in glee, bouncing on his toes as he watched the bubbles multiply.

“It’s like a cloud!” Ollie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“More like a bubble avalanche,” you said, watching the bubbles cascade over the edge of the tub.

Ollie started stripping off his clothes — his shirt getting stuck over his head, turning him into a giggling mess as he tried to wriggle free. Jude stepped in to help.

“Alright, into the tub you go,” Jude said, lifting Ollie up and plopping him into the sea of bubbles.

Within seconds, Ollie was completely submerged, only his head and a mountain of bubbles visible above the surface. He giggled as he started splashing around, sending bubbles and water flying in every direction.

“Ollie! Gentle with the splashing!” you warned, dodging a particularly large splash that just narrowly missed your face. Ollie grinned mischievously. He threw a handful of bubbles at Jude, who was standing just a bit too close. Jude wiped the bubbles off his face, grinning.

“Oh, you want to play it that way, huh?” He grabbed a cup from the counter and scooped up some of the bathwater, threatening to pour it on Ollie’s head. Ollie shrieked in delight, ducking beneath the bubbles as Jude pretended to chase him with the cup.

“You two are going to flood the bathroom!” you said, laughing as you grabbed a towel to try and catch some of the water splashing over the edge of the tub. It was no use — by now, half the bathroom floor was soaked.

“Gotcha!” Jude finally managed to pour the water over Ollie’s head, earning another round of giggles from the little boy.

But then Ollie went quiet, his eyes narrowing as he smirked up at you. “Y/N, now it’s your turn!”

Before you could react, Ollie launched a fistful of bubbles right at you, hitting you square in the chest. You gasped, trying to look stern, but you couldn’t hold back the laughter.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re in trouble now!” You scooped up a huge pile of bubbles and gently tossed them at Ollie, who squealed in delight as the fluffy foam covered his face. Jude watched with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of the chaos.

“I think we’ve lost control of the situation,” he joked, shaking his head as more water sloshed onto the floor.

“Oh, we definitely have,” you agreed, but honestly, you didn’t mind one bit. Ollie’s laughter was contagious, and seeing Jude play along, completely carefree and happy, made your heart swell.

After what felt like an hour of splashing, giggles, and what could only be described as a bubble war, you finally managed to get Ollie cleaned up. He sat in the tub, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes as if the last hour hadn’t been complete chaos.

“Okay, time to get out now,” you said, reaching for a towel.

“But I don’t wanna get out! The bubbles are still here!” Ollie protested, scooping up another handful of bubbles. Jude knelt down beside the tub, giving Ollie a smile.

“We can have more bubbles next time, buddy. But if you don’t get out now, we won’t have time for a bedtime story.” Ollie’s eyes widened again at the mention of a bedtime story.

“A story?! Okay, okay, I’m getting out!” he said, quickly standing up and letting you wrap him in the towel. As you dried him off, Jude stood back, admiring the aftermath of what could only be described as a hurricane of bubbles and water. He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You smiled up at him, leaning into his embrace as Ollie, wrapped in his dinosaur towel, skipped out of the bathroom, still buzzing with excitement.

“You sure you’re still up for that story?” you called after him, watching as he practically ran toward the living room. Jude looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think? You ready for round two?” You sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “I’m always ready if you are.”

With Ollie freshly bathed and wrapped in his cozy pajamas, you and Jude settled him onto the couch for what was promised, a bedtime story. His boundless energy had finally started to fade, though his excitement for the story was still evident in his wide eyes and toothy grin.

“Alright, buddy. What story are we reading tonight?” you asked, sitting down on one side of the couch as Jude took the other. Ollie squirmed in the middle, his little legs kicking restlessly as he looked up at you both, clearly relishing the attention.

“The dragon one! The one with the big, scary dragon!” Ollie announced, bouncing a little as he said it. Jude grabbed the book from the table, flipping through the pages dramatically.

“Ah, the one with the scary dragon. I see you like living dangerously.”

Ollie’s eyes grew wide, and he giggled. “I’m not scared of anything! I’m a superhero, remember?” He flexed his tiny arms, making you and Jude chuckle, referring to the superhero game he had made you play with him earlier.

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Now let’s see how you handle dragons.”

Jude opened the book and began reading in an exaggerated voice, using different accents for the characters, making Ollie giggle uncontrollably. Every time Jude mimicked the dragon’s deep, growly voice, Ollie would cover his mouth in awe, eyes wide, but clearly loving every second of it.

You couldn’t help but watch Jude in admiration. He was amazing with kids, and it made your heart swell seeing him like this; so gentle, so fun, so effortlessly caring.

You caught yourself thinking about what he’d be like as a dad, the thought sneaking into your mind and making you smile to yourself.

“And then,” Jude continued, building up to the story’s climax, “the brave knight faced the dragon, sword in hand, ready to protect his kingdom!” His voice was filled with drama, causing Ollie to sit up straighter, his eyes glued to Jude.

“Did the knight win?” Ollie whispered, completely engrossed in the story.

Jude winked at him, lowering his voice. “What do you think, champ? Do you think the knight was brave enough to win?” Ollie nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! He’s brave, just like me!” Jude smiled, continuing the story with a heroic flair.

“The knight swung his sword and with one mighty swoop, the dragon was defeated!” Ollie clapped his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

“I knew it! The knight is the best!”

As the story reached its happy conclusion, you noticed Ollie’s eyes starting to droop, his earlier excitement finally giving way to sleepiness. His little body leaned against Jude, snuggling into his side as his breathing slowed.

“Looks like the knight’s biggest battle is staying awake,” you whispered, chuckling softly.

Jude smiled down at Ollie, gently closing the book. “Yeah, I think our superhero’s finally ready to call it a night.”

With Ollie half asleep, Jude carefully lifted him in his arms, cradling him with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

You followed them to the guest room, watching as Jude tucked Ollie into the little bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The little boy stirred for a moment, mumbling something about dragons before he drifted off completely.

You stood at the door, your heart practically melting at the sight. Jude leaned down, brushing a gentle hand over Ollie’s head before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

As you tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind you, the silence of the house settled in. For a moment, neither of you said anything, both still caught up in the sweetness of the scene you’d just left behind.

Finally, Jude broke the silence, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You know, I could get used to this.” You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat.

“Used to what?” He shrugged casually, but there was something deeper in his eyes.

“This. You, me, taking care of a little one. It feels... nice.” Your chest tightened, warmth flooding through you at his words.

You leaned against the wall, trying to act nonchalant even though your heart was pounding. “You think?”

Jude nodded, his gaze soft and full of affection. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ollie’s a handful, but... I don’t know. When it’s us, it doesn’t feel hard. It feels like... like we could do this one day. For real.” You felt a lump form in your throat, not from nerves, but from the overwhelming sweetness of the moment.

He wasn’t just talking about babysitting — he was talking about a future. A real future. And that thought made your heart feel so full it could burst.

You smiled up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d make a pretty great dad, you know.” He reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“Only if I get to do it with you.” Your heart swelled, the simplicity and sincerity of his words filling you with a quiet kind of happiness.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

In that moment, as the two of you stood there in the quiet, everything just felt right. You could see it so clearly. The future you’d both only ever hinted at, the one you were both starting to realize you wanted. And as you stood there in each other’s arms, you knew without a doubt that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

#jude belligham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude imagines #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #football player x reader #football fic #imagine

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thatbennybee · 3 months ago

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ChordStriker!AU Q&A

I'm doing a bit of a Q&A about my ChordStriker!AU on insta after sharing this teaser WIP, so I figured I'd present some of the questions here! (Feel free to ask more btw!)

↓↓↓

Rock!Poppy

Q: "Is Poppy's family (Peppy & Viva) still with her since the Bergens didn't attack them?"

A: Peppy is with her, but he is confused/in mental decline like canon King Thrash was. Viva is missing. Poppy was old enough to remember her.

Q: "Will Viva play somewhat of a role in this AU?"

A: Yes, she's had a much bigger impact on Poppy's life, even till this day even though she's been missing for many years now. Poppy has never stopped looking for her.

Q: "Is King Peppy still a liar in your AU?"

A: Nah, he's normal. Sometimes hating him with my entire being is hard, so he gets to be a good dad this time. He's just not all there mentally so Poppy is more like his caretaker now.

Q: "Poppy's relationships don't last long because she gets bored... So how long is Branch going to last?"

A: The Rat Pack (Snack Pack) is wondering the same thing, but Poppy's never used the bf/gf/partner labels before meeting him which is strange... 👀

Q: "Does Poppy still party?"

A: She's a total party animal! Her parties are even more intense than a Pop Troll party since Rock Trolls are pretty extreme. LOL

---

Pop!Barb (Barbie)

Q: "What does Barb look like?"

A: For now, this is her design, it might change once I have time to draw her digitally.

Q: "Does this mean Barb has to go through the events of Trolls 1?"

A: Nope, Barb never befriends Bridget because they have never met. They have found a way to remain undetected in the forest. (Thanks to Branch’s constant nagging about safety)

Q: "How does Barb's gang look? Is there any significant differences in their dynamics?"

A: I haven't had time to finish them all, but here's some of them for now. There's more members of The Lunch Rush, but this is all I have for now!

Val Thundershock → Valentina Wondershock.

Only Queen Barbie calls her Val. She is very optimistic & loves to sing & dance! She's Barbie’s right-hand troll, BFFL & knows everything about her. They have a very... "close" relationship. ;] She's a popstar who's managed by Demo and loves to help make Pop Village a happier place.

Riff

He's a university student studying to be an engineer. He's very soft spoken, doesn't like to make a fuss and is probably the nicest guy around. He's quite close to Barbie and sees her as an older sister. He's actually on friendly terms with Branch. His favorite treat is lollipops. 🍭

Carol

But you can call her Carrie! Everyone does. She's a bit of a diva, loves to look good & dull things bore her. She will ignore anything that doesn't catch her eye, even trolls. Best to be looking your very best!

Sid Fret

Just call him Sid, no need to be so formal. He is every trolls dream guy and he knows it! He's a great roller derby racer and loves the attention trolls give him. Sure, he's a little self-absorbed, but he's a very loyal friend.

Demo

Not much has changed about Demo. He's perfect as he is <3 He's just a little more excitable & cutesy than before. He cares about Valentina a lot & they are very close friends.

Petra

She is the blueprint, she's the moment, she's everything. A model, actress, singer, you name it, she can do it. She's perfect... Who doesn't want to be her?

---

Branch

Q: "How different is Branch in this AU vs canon Branch?"

A: He is the same Branch essentially, just without the development he gains at the end of Trolls 1 & so-on. None of it occurred, so he is still grey, miserable & a recluse. He helped Barb to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe after nagging & warning her for ages, but after that, he returned to his bunker & is still not well-liked by the village.

Q: "Does she know Branch's whole past? If she does, what was her reaction?"

A: Not sure if you meant Barb or Poppy, so I'll answer for both. Barb—no. I don't think she'd ever find out, and she's also not the type to ask. Their personalities clash a bit too much, she stays out of his way like he asks her to.

For Poppy—I think it would come up naturally in conversation after a while when Branch feels more comfortable sharing. Poppy isn't the type to pry, but makes it clear that it's out of understanding, not a lack of caring. She can tell that he is closed off for a reason. She relates to that. I think she'd be beyond pissed once he told her, though.

Q: "Will Branch's brothers be in this?"

A: Yes, but Floyd will be getting the bigger role this time.

Q: "How quickly does Branch fall for Poppy? I'm sure the answer is yes, but is he happy?"

A: I'd say he's quite guarded in the beginning. He is cautious around her for the first few weeks, but he starts to come around once he picks up on Poppy being emotionally guarded herself.

Things move quickly once their walls come down around each other, & a mutual understanding is there. Poppy fell for him first. (At least, that's what Branch lets her believe, as it was love at first sight for him, but he'd never tell her that; she'd get a big head about it.)

#this isnt all of the questions but the post is getting long #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls poppy #trolls branch #broppy #askbee #thatbennybee #trollsbuzz #chordstriker!barb #chordstriker!branch #chordstriker!poppy #chordstriker au #cs!broppy #cs!branch #cs!poppy #cs!barb

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d3stinyist1red · 2 months ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴏʟᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(cholo basically means a hispanic boy who dresses with baggy clothing(search up cholo outfit), and like has a diff speech pattern, btw imma js make him kinda like an edger bc why not they fine asfff)

(his name gon be miguel bc yes)

yan cholo who is ur hb, who you met freshman year in homeroom.

You were busy on your phone before getting your leg kicked by someone beside you. You looked at whoever did that with narrowed eyes, why did this beta js kick a sigma like you..???

He had an fluffed up edger cut, with a slit eyebrow. He had some baggy clothing, proclub grey sweatpants with a black T-shirt with a silver necklace. He was attractive to say the least.

"Put your phone away, chica! (girl or chick)"He said playfully, nodding his head to the teacher making you look, he was helping to you to not get your phone taken by that old ass dusty teacher

you quickly put your phone in your pocket and thanked him. "No problem, hermosa. (beautiful)" He smirked at you, you could hear his accent very well. You tilted your head at him before looking away, not really understanding what was the last word he said (UNLESS U DO, IF U DO PRETEND HE SAID IT UNDER HIS BREATH OR SUM SO U COULDNT HEAR))

yan cholo who began talking to you the whole homeroom after that, and soon you realized he switched his classes to be matched up with yours.

yan cholo who is now ur besty westy hb, who u tell to put u on to someone

ʏ/ɴɴɴʟᴜᴠsᴋɪᴛᴛʏs

miguelllll

put me onto on of ur friendssssss

ᴛʜᴇʏғᴡᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ

ma, dont start with this bullshit

none of those assholes deserve you, alr mami?

yan cholo who buys you cutesy shit even tho he never did that with any of his ex gfs, only you. But he isnt even dating you too!

"hey ma, got you a lil sum" He said as he wrapped his arm around you, interrupting a convo you were having with one of your friends who js stared at him with heart eyes. He gave u a kuromi plushie that had some pocky taped to her hand. You quickly thanked him making him rub his neck sheepishly,before tapping his cheek .

"cmon baby, give me a peck for it, yeah?"

yan cholo who tells you all of the drama and whenever theres gonna be a fight, grabbing your hand and leading you to someone getting pressed if u want to see a fight. But if you dont like ppl fighting, he'll drag you away from it, and distract you with something else

yan cholo who is possesive of you, always following you around in parties, arm either around your shoulder or waist.

There was this one time, he wasnt on your tail or following you since he was grabbing snacks for the both of you guys and some fool from another neighborhood took this as a chance to started talking to you at a party. The guy was laughing, leaning in too close.

For you, it was someone actually wanting you and u were mad excited bc miguel greedy ass wouldn't even put u on to his friends, but to miguel? It was a threat. His fists clenched, his blood boiling as he was walking to you, noticing the guy talking to you.

He stormed over, stepping between them with a cold stare. “You got somethin’ to say to her, you say it to me, homie.”

The guy backed off instantly, giving miguel a dirty look before mumbling something under his breath and walking away. You raised an eyebrow, "Boy, are you fr? I was gonna finally bag someone bruh"

"Ma, you have me. You don't need anyone else."

yan cholo who talks about you to his homies, absolutely gushing over you like u were a celebrity. And his homies were mad confused bc the man has NEVER been obsessed with any girl, not even his past gfs. He would barely even mention his gfs!

yan cholo who whenever you guys hung out, whether it was grabbing a bite at mc donalds or cruising through the streets with the windows down, he treated you like a queen. He’d make sure you had everything you wanted, always checking if you was comfortable, if you needed anything. He'd make sure to pay for everything, not letting you even touch your wallet, He'd open doors for you, give you flowers, on valentines day he'd give you hello kitty bouquets with money, and hot chips

yan cholo who was jealous of any man who got into a 500 mile radius of you

“Yeah, I ran into Alex today at the store, yk that guy that fought with eric? Yeah, he saw me and said hi” You said offhandedly as miguel drove

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He tried to keep his voice calm. “Oh yeah? Did you say hi back? Don't talk to him, princesa(princess). Hes no good for you. ” he finally said, his voice low, like a warning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, catching the change in his tone. “Relax, it’s not like that. He’s just a friend.” Miguel furrowed his eyebrows and kissed his teeth, not bothering to respond knowing he'll start raging.

yan cholo who every morning, he’d be at your locker, waiting for the moment you'll walk down the hall. His eyes would lock onto yours the second you appeared, his heart pounding harder than it ever did during a fight. You didn't notice the way he would glare at anyone near you to back off, and leave the two of you alone.

When you finally made your way over, you dapped him up, and opened your locker. “Hey, you got the notes from yesterday’s class?” You asked him, finally looking up at him.

He’d play it cool, nodding and pulling out his notebook without a word. Inside, though, he was a mess. Every time you spoke to him, he wanted to say something—tell you how he couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you was the only thing that mattered to him, how he couldn't even sleep thinking about you and your gorgeous face. But he couldn’t, instead, he handed you the notes. “Yeah, here. Whatever you need, mami.” He said smirking down at you.

yan cholo who whenver you gave him a casual wave goodbye, he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her she was his amor (his love) and no one else’s.

yan cholo who plays soccer only to impress you, every kick, every pass, was an excuse to show off for you. He could hear his teammates calling for the ball, but all he cared about was making sure Y/N was watching when he scored. And when he did—blasting the ball into the net with a perfect shot—he didn't bother to cheer. His eyes darting back to Y/N instead, seeing if she was impressed with his goal

yan cholo who daydreams about you before games, His teammates often tease him about his crush on you. They notice how he lights up whenever your brought up in conversations or whenever your around and how he tends to play better when he knows she’s watching

yan cholo who is a lil too obsessed with his hg y/n <333

yan cholo who is ur hb who hates seeing u with men <33

MORE COMING OUT

BTW I DID THIS ONE FIRST BC I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS IDEA SO MCUH HELLOO??

IM MEXICAN BTW SO I THINK ITS OK TO POST THIS IDK

GUYS IS THIS GOOD???? IDKK

HELP I NEED A CHOLO EDGER IN MY BED RN LIKE COME HERE PAPI

HELP I HAD TOOOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS

#yandere x reader #yanderemalexreader #clingy yandere #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere male #yandere #destinys worksss<333

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archiveofvirtue · 1 month ago

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pov: you’re jensen ackles’ controversially younger girlfriend ᡣ𐭩 pt. 2

youruser 17min

jensenackles

Liked by misha and others

jensenackles last night was.. WILD 👀 shoutout to @/youruser for being the best hype woman and amazing paparazzo!

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vampzgirl STOP he looks so fucking hot

flora97 y/n really lucked out 😩

virtualfairy both of em tbh

girlblogger she is the definition of living the y/n life

fory/n do y’all need a third?

youruser drawing you like one of my french girls next 😛

jensenackles you want to see me naked so bad huh?

spnfan123 guys i think we’re interrupting something here 😭

jesswinchester why did no one tell me they were coming to my city..gonna go cry now 😣

gibson-g1rl y/n serving so bad

ari4president her style is literally everything

youruser

Liked by jensenackles and others

youruser it’s giving rockstar gf 🫦 @/radiocomusic

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girlztea living your best life, literally

j2stans wanna lick the sweat off him

gibson-g1rl girl- that’s weird 😭

mishabear y/n keeping us fed all day every day

jaredpadalecki you’d make a good lead singer

youruser right? I think the current one is a little old anyway 🤥

destiel4ever not them ganging up on jensen LMAO

jacklesfan1 i need him in ways i can’t explain

yourbestiesuser oh she singing 👀

youruser she might 😎

ev1lprincess 7TH PIC HAS ME GOING FERAL

beausling they’re the new it-couple, calling it rn

jensenackles

Liked by youruser and others

jensenackles quick september recap 🏇🏼

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j2stan4ever him with the cigar?? HELLO?!?!

y/n_defender 6th pic is giving true directioner

youruser found my people #1Dforever

girlwithablog @/youruser name your favorite in 3..2..1..

youruser louis, duh 🙄

forjackles i just know jensen adores her so much

jacklesfan1 stop is that y/n with arrow?? 🥹

destielcore yes so adorbs !!

deanlcver imagine saying “my boyfriend is jensen ackles”

jackles_3 how does he get hotter and hotter??

youruser

Liked by genpadalecki and others

youruser could get used to this 🫂

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familybusiness99 look at gen and y/n being all cutesy

spnlover1 i adore them together

girlblogger very demure very mindful

genpadalecki now im craving 🦞 again

youruser i remember you literally devoured that poor thing 😭

genpadalecki he was basically begging to be eaten with those round black eyes

y/nfan10 need me a man who gets me flowers every week

jacklesfan1 she is literally the best step mom

secretuser123 more like step sister

beausling lmao get a life 😭

jaredpicz THE KISSING BOOTH?? I’M OMW

casmybeloved real

lucifersdaughter never been so jealous in my life

already planning the next one atp 🎀 hope u enjoyed! part one.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated.

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @nuemanfilms @angelicjackles @alluvthegurlz @nxptvn @lailawinchesterr

#writers on tumblr #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #spnfandom #social media au

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mactavishsgfandwife · 10 months ago

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‘mactavishsgfandwife’ Masterlist

just making this so that i (+ you guys) can find my posts more easily! because in just over a week of posting i already have sooo many things i want to keep an organised list of them lmao can you tell i love simon???

mdni as i occasionally write smut + some of the fluff has suggestive content and sexual references x

key: fluff = 💗 angst = 🧸 smut = 💐

Task Force 141

‘141 and Their Instruments’ [What instruments I think the boys play] 💗

’141 and Their Embarassing Childhood Haircuts (HC)’ [What silly haircuts I think they got given as kids teehee] 💗

‘141 When They’re Sick’ [How they act when they’re poorly :((] 💗

’TF141 Watching a Horror Movie With You’ [Request, the 141 boys with a sweet s/o who loves horror] 💗

’141 x Crazy Rich Reader’ [Request, how they’d act with a spoilt s/o] 💗

Simon “Ghost” Riley

‘A Simon Riley HC’ [Si hates you cracking your back] 💗

’Precious - A Simon Riley HC’ [Si loves you x] 💗

’Simon Riley When You’re On Your Period’ [He comforts youuu] 💗

’Alone - A Simon Riley HC (Angst)’ [You wake up and he’s gone :(] 🧸

’So Good - A Simon Riley HC (Smut)’ [Praise, you’re a very good girl] 💐

’Bf!SimonRiley Imagines’ [I need him]

’Simon "Ghost" Riley Comforts You’ [Reader is in a bad mental state and he cuddles her] 💗🧸

’Thinking About Sleepy Sex With Ghost’ [Self explanatory xoxo] 💐

’Possessive/Dominant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Headcanons’ 💗

‘Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s’ [Adorable domestic fluff] 💗

’Dad!Simon Takes Your Daughter Swimming’ [More dad!Si >:)] 💗

’Dad!Simon Helps Your Daughter When She Falls Over :((‘ [Simon being a good daddy] 💗

’Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley HCs’ [You are his soft spot] 💗

’Simon "Ghost" Riley in a Heatwave (HC)’ [He can’t deal with the heat, bless] 💗

’Simon "Ghost" Riley’s Breeding Kink’ [Self explanatory again, praise] 💐

’Simon Riley x Curly Haired Reader’ [He loves your curls] 💗

’Last Night’s Mistake - Simon "Ghost" Riley’ [The morning after] 🧸

’Cuddling With Simon "Ghost" Riley (HCs)’ [Cute cuddles, that’s it] 💗

’Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley Cuddling You’ [Request, Ai likes being your sweet boy] 💗

‘Simon "Ghost" Riley and Your New Cat’ [Si is jealous of your new kitten] 💗

’Sorry, Baby - Simon "Ghost" Riley’ [Request, you have an argument and he loses his temper] 🧸

’Simon "Ghost" Riley at a Party’ [Simon being a scary overprotective loser] 💗

’Good Boy - Simon "Ghost" Riley (MDNI)’ [Request, Simon being needy and pathetic] 💐

’Meeting 141 as Simon "Ghost" Riley’s Fiancée’ [Request, you show up and suddenly rough old Simon is a lot softer] 💗

’Overprotective Ghost X Shy Reader’ [He gets suspicious of you unfairly :( ] 🧸

’Simon "Ghost" Riley and His Poorly Girl’ [You’re sick and he won’t let you go to work] 💗

’Overprotective Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader’ [You don’t have to move a muscle, love.] 💗

‘Simon’s Favourite Colour’ [Just cutesy playfulness] 💗

‘Simon Riley, Who’s Into… Mindfulness?’ [Si finds it embarrassing but he meditates and does little breathing exercises when he needs to calm down] 💗 (My tumblr is acting up about links rn but I’ll add the link when I can)

John Price

‘Tea Time With Price (HC)’ [HCs about Price and tea?!?] 💗

’In My Office - UniversityProfessor!Price’ [After a lecture, you start to cry] 🧸

my personal favs that i’ve written are in my office with price and last night’s mistake, but they’re not perfect and i can’t wait to see how i (God willing) improve!!

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dr-spectre · 2 months ago

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So.... This game is 2 years old now huh?

Honestly... I don't think i have a TON to say about this game. It's just a great ass fucking video game that has given me a lot of fun and great memories!

This game came out during my final year of school, which is kinda funny considering that Splatoon 3 acts like a "finale" to a trilogy. It's interesting how those kinds of things work out eh? Splatoon 2 came out at the start of my secondary education, and Splatoon 3 came out at the tail end of my final year.

I remember thinking before the game came out, "why do we need a Splatoon 3? This is pointless, it's just more Splatoon 2." And then my mind was quickly changed once i got to play the Splatfest test fire and the actual game itself.....

I completed ROTM in such a short amount of time and i documented my reactions to my friends. Although i was spoiled in that Deep Cut had boss fights and Mr. Grizz was the final boss, ROTM still gave me a giant smile to my face all the way through. It was so fun, so charming and just a really good single player experience.

One of the things that i LOVE about Splatoon 3 is the vibe. I just love the location of Splatsville, i love the aesthetics, the lighting, the model improvements from Splatoon 2, the music, it's my favourite art style/aesthetic out of any of the Splatoon games by far. It just feels so polished, i don't know how to exactly describe it.

Also the fact that this game won best multiplayer game of 2022 over CALL OF DUTY! OVERWATCH 2 AND MULTIVERSUS MAKES ME SO GIDDY AND HAPPY!

PEOPLE GOT MAD ABOUT THIS AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA EVIL LAUGH! All of those fucking depressed and sad Call of Duty players who whine and complain about how "wahh modern gaming sucks!! There's no good games anymore wahhh!! It's all microtransactions wahhh!!" BITCH! SPLATOON 3 IS LITERALLY THE GAME YOU'VE BEEN ASKING FOR!! Yet you won't play it because it's on Nintendo huh? Yeah... You're a fucking PUSSY!! YOU'RE WEAK!! You're SCARED to be seen as less of a manly man!! You only wanna play games with oily dirty buff men.... Yet you call others who play games like Splatoon gay? Hmm..... Sounds like you're a wittle insecureeeeee!!!!

Have fun rotting in microtransaction hell you LOSERS!! GAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways.... uh.... sorry....

I also fucking love Deep Cut too. I thought i wasn't gonna like these guys and i remember thinking when i first saw them "oh... okayyyy..."

But now? I love these bastards.

I love their dynamic and how they are bandits but they actually wanna help the people back in Splatsville. That is such a cool and unique take to have for Idol characters. The Squid Sisters are very cutesy and so are Off the Hook, but Deep Cut aren't. They are loud, messy, chaotic, in your face, rude, etc. They are about contrast and the character designers did a phenomenal job at conveying that theme via their backgrounds and looks.

Another thing that i love about Splatoon 3 is that it also acts as a celebration of things that have come before, Inkopolis Plaza and Square return as hubs, old colour combos from previous games act as loading screens, most of the music returns in the jukebox, it rewards long time fans for sticking around and for a long running franchise IT'S SUPER IMPORTANT to have that stuff!!!

Seeing the improvements in the model quality from Splatoon 1 to 3 genuinely makes me kinda emotional, it shows how far we've come in just a little under 10 years...

It really homes in on the point that... These characters, have grown up with us.... The Squid Sisters are about to reach their mid 20s, Pearl is nearly 30 fucking years old!!!

And the last thing i wanna bring up before i talk about the Grand Fest...

...Is Side Order.

This fucking DLC... My god... Being able to experience it by myself and just enjoy the stuff i was seeing, being able to SCREAM AND CRY AS MUCH I WANT WAS SO IMPORTANT TO ME DUDE!

When i got to the 10th floor in the tutorial and i saw Marina Agitando staring me down.... I did the loudest gasp a human could possibly do and my jaw was hung to the floor for a solid MINUTE!

Marina's first fucking dev diary made me cry and scream, THAT IS NOT A JOKE!!!! THESE CHARACTERS ARE THAT IMPORTANT TO ME!

And the final boss.... Made me cry, it broke me down, i was singing along to Ebb and Flow as best as i could, it felt like i was brought back to 2018, being in my room, listening to that song on repeat... I feel like a kid again....

I love this song... i love it so much... Like it's not the most hype finale song ever, but, the emotion behind it, the build up from Splatoon 2... The power this song has in it's meaning... It's some good shit man...

youtube

So yeah! I love Splatoon 3!!! It's my favourite game out of the series and anyone who is gonna jump into this game now is gonna have a LOT to chew on.

And... It's both sweet and sad that we're at the end. This is it... The moment we've been waiting for. The final Splatfest to end them all. The event 9 years in the making.

The Grand Festival...

I am extremely excited and so FUCKING NERVOUS for this Splatfest!!!! I know i am going to cry and be so overwhelmed with joy. Seeing the Squid Sisters and Off the Hook perform their old songs again after all of these years is gonna make me sob so loudly it's not even funny.

These characters genuinely mean the world to me and it's gonna be so fucking hard for me to watch their final major appearance and say goodbye. Cause after this, we don't know what's gonna happen. I know they will come back, they have to but... In what capacity? That's what I'm scared about...

So yeah, let's savior this moment when it eventually arrives, take all the time you need to be engulfed in the Grand Fest.

Thank you Splatoon 3, you have given me so much.... It's not time to say goodbye just yet but, i wanna watch you as you walk into the sunset with your head held high....

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minus-plus-zer0 · 3 months ago

Text

The Bakusquad Gaming Group - Ch. 1 - Introduction

| Masterlist | The Bakusquad Gaming Group Masterlist | | Next | ♡ Genre: Fluff, little crack ♡ Pairing: Gamer!Bakugou x Gamer!Reader ♡ Tags: Crossover (MHA x multiple franchises), gaming AU, Quirkless AU, aged up ♡ Summary: You're a pink and girly Let's Player who recently rose to fame. Eventually, your brand grows enough to attract the attention of the (in)famous Bakusquad. Their leader, Bakugou Katsuki, has especially taken a liking to you. This story follows your daily lives together as part of the Bakusquad.

You made waves in the gaming community as an up and coming Let's Player. Your pink and cutesy aesthetic could only be matched by the cozy games you played, with the occasional Dark Souls and DOOM Eternal mixed in.

Your following grew over time but you needed to network to continue your brand growth. Although your channel currently rode high on your DOOM Eternal Let's Plays, you noticed that a popular gaming group called the "Bakusquad" made themselves known by playing Animal Crossing, and you wanted in.

You actually recognized their leader, Bakugou Katsuki (aka his username "Dynamight"), as somebody who attended your old university. But you two never interacted and you never saw him in-person. He wasn't the type of guy who would collaborate with anyone, and even his own group had a hard time getting a hold of him. This could be his and your chance to break further into the multiplayer scene.

But how would you contact him? Emailing him felt too formal for a guy who regularly shirked formalities, and he blocked whoever slid into his DM's, plus he wasn't exactly friendly in-person on the off-chance you ever got to see him face-to-face.

But after watching some of his videos, you knew the best way to get his attention was through force.

You publicly challenged him on social media to a 1v1 fight in an old fighting game that you secretly knew the ins and outs of. You purposefully chose this one since it didn't look like anything you, a girly gamer, would be interested in. You tagged him and then you called upon your followers to get his attention, but it didn't take long before he was sliding into your DMs, mad as all hell.

"What the fuck was that?" was his first text. "You seriously challenging me?"

You didn't reply. You just screenshotted his DM, posted it onto social media, and tagged him again.

Your only words in your post were, "I'm dead serious. <3"

"Oh it is on." That was Bakugou's last DM to you.

Even though it wasn't his idea, Bakugou personally led the organization of the event from here on out. He shot you multiple curt texts of the time of the event, the rules, and instructions on the technical aspects of getting you both into an online call. He even gave you his phone number so that you could communicate faster. Now that caught you off-guard.

While you rested in the privacy of your own bedroom, you dialed his number. You felt the intense urge to tease him for even giving you his contact info. Before he could get a word in, you were already on his ass.

"Do you give everybody your phone number?" you asked.

"Huh? What, hell no! This is an important event as part of both our channels so I had to--"

"You sound so much stuffier in real life, oh my gosh."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING FLUFFY?"

"...I said stuffy, Bakugou."

"WHATEVER OKAY! That's not the freaking point! I just wanted to make sure your online connection was good enough for this old as fuck game. Why did you pick this shit anyways?!"

You could just imagine him in his house, getting all angry over a phone call. You found it highly amusing, mainly because you knew it wasn't that serious.

"It's a childhood favorite of mine," you pouted, crossing your legs on the bed. "It's very near and dear to my heart. You don't like it?"

He sighed. "If you're so fucking dead set on it, then I'm not exactly gonna back down now, am I? I just wanted to make sure this all works perfectly."

"It'll be fiiiiine, Bakugou." You hugged a video game plushie from your bed real tight. "Gee, I didn't realize you cared so much."

"It's my job! Of course I give a shit. I'll make sure this event doesn't flop 'cause of this damn fossil of a game."

"It's not gonna flop!"

Then day of the event came soon, and both of your fanbases were pretty hyped. The game itself wasn't the only interesting part. No, people were more interested in your clashing personalities.

Since you arrived on the gaming scene, people had jokingly made edits comparing your content to what "Dynamight" had to offer. Your brands were like night and day in difference. They knew from your first post tagging Bakugou that your ensuing interactions were going to be... intriguing, to say the least.

The stream started, with two of the Bakusquad members Kaminari Denki (aka "Chargebolt") and Jirou Kyoka (aka "Earphone Jack") helping with the technical side of things, as well as moderation of your chats. Kaminari oversaw Bakugou's chat, while Jirou oversaw yours. Needless to say, this caused numerous arguments between Bakugou and Kaminari. At least you and Jirou got along well enough despite your difference in aesthetics and Jirou's frustrations with the technical issues.

The first match would be starting soon. For the first three rounds, your arena would be a barren field with a galaxy backdrop. Bakugou specifically chose the plainest arena to best show off your skills and nothing else. You and Bakugou were on an online call together, streamed live to both of your audiences.

"You fucking ready for this, princess?" he asked.

"Only if you're ready for me, prince."

You saw Bakugou smirk wider at your comment through his rarely used onscreen camera. It made you feel in some way you couldn't describe.

Your character was a real firecracker on the field, despite their delicate and sweet-looking appearance. You caught Bakugou's fire-based barbarian character off-guard several times, punishing him every time he thought he could attack you recklessly.

Bakugou let out a stream of expletives, with many new swear words being created on the spot. He caught you laughing and he said, "Don't laugh at me, dammit! I'm not fucking done!"

He attacked viciously but he also learned not to throw his character around willy-nilly. Still, he wasn't a match for you and he couldn't get enough hits in before you threw him off the stage entirely. He tried to leap back up to grab the stage's ledge, but you spiked him straight down. His character died from falling offscreen.

Both your fanbases were going nuts at Bakugou's amateur playstyle. This was the first time he'd been taken off-guard in a fighting game. And it was worse knowing that you were beating him down like a professional MMA fighter beats down a sickly old grandpa on his deathbed. Bakugou was beyond livid, but instead of his earlier rampant boisterous rage, he was now silent and focused and seething.

"Somebody's a little pissed," you crooned into your microphone, your hands gripping your controller as you awaited his character to respawn. "Oh come on, Bakugou, it's not that serious..."

"You won't be saying that when I beat you," he said.

The second round was much worse for you. Bakugou grew much more defensive, and your offensive game was not nearly good enough to avoid retaliatory punishment from his character. You kicked him, he countered you and punched back, sending you flying off the stage to the point where you couldn't leap high enough to reach the arena. Your character fell to their death, somewhere into the beautiful galaxy backdrop.

Bakugou shot a stupidly handsome self-satisfied grin at his camera, and you knew for a fact that it was meant for you.

You sent him a well-trained, super sweet pageant smile that told him, "You are so fucking dead I swear to fucking god once I am done here your character will regret the day he was ever fucking born." Hopefully he got the message.

This was your last round of your first match, and there was no chance in hell you were going to throw the fight away that easily. You glanced at Bakugou's screen to gauge his reaction but he was glancing away from his game, and you wondered if he was looking at you.

The final round started and your characters traded blows like old archnemeses. Your character dashed quick as lightning, but you couldn't get any clean hits on Bakugou's character at all. Bakugou's character hit way, way harder and you struggled to remain on stage every time he sent you flying.

You had to admit, you were impressed. He was literally beating you at your own game. Still, you had dealt enough damage to his character little-by-little that you could tell he was getting nervous.

His barbarian character punched yours so hard he sent you flying, again. You were floating back towards the stage while he awaited you at the ledge.

"Almost fucking done here," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"You gotta tone down that ego of yours," you said, with a smile.

His character swiped at yours but you countered hard, your pink magic shooting him right backwards. Then, your character grabbed him, threw him over the ledge, and kicked him straight into the offscreen abyss.

You shrieked and cheered, bursting into a little happy dance. The chat was going wild seeing Dynamight perform poorly in a fighting game, for the first time. You looked at Bakugou's screen and he wasn't even mad. His back was slumped against his chair and his hand stroked his face, obscuring his true expression. But he was staring at your character's victory animation onscreen very seriously, like he couldn't believe it.

"Holy crap!" Kaminari's voice chimed into the call. "What a match! That's a great way to introduce yourself to someone! I can't believe you two have never collaborated before, we really gotta do this again sometimes because I have never, and I mean never, seen somebody kick Bakugou's ass like that."

"Shut it, Dunce Face."

"Aw come on! The night's still young! How about we play a few more rounds?"

Your eyes flickered to Bakugou's screen, then to your camera. "One more round, Bakugou?"

Bakugou exhaled through his nose. Then, he addressed his camera, his face morphing into a deadly smirk.

"This stream isn't ending until I beat you."

The stream didn't end for hours.

Bakugou had basically challenged you on your home turf, which was the biggest mistake of his life. You won most of the matches, and although Bakugou did win some, he could only go home happy if he won all of them. And as an unofficial referee, Kaminari would only consider it Bakugou's win if Bakugou won at least a majority of the matches, but Bakugou couldn't manage that either.

You had so much fun that night. You not only fought Bakugou but you also occasionally let Jirou and Kaminari get in on the matches. Other Bakusquad members also poked their head into the streams and joined in at certain points. Even though you had never met these people before, it felt like you were already fast friends.

You already felt incredibly comfortable around Bakugou, maybe even more so than the others. Once the stream ended, the rest of the Bakusquad congratulated you on the good stream but said their quick goodbyes as it was getting late. However, Bakugou stayed up and switched you two to a facetime video call through your computers.

Your heart raced upon seeing him but your face didn't give away any fear. This was very sudden, but you didn't mind witnessing what Bakugou was like in private. A strange feeling bubbled up within you. Meanwhile, Bakugou slumped back in his chair, his head propped up by one fist as he took your appearance in.

"So?" you said, looking playful and coy. "Guess it's not that bad of a game after all. Your viewers were higher with me around."

"Don't get cocky," he said. "Yours were higher than I've ever seen on your channel too."

"My channel?" You spun lightly left and right on your gaming chair. "I didn't realize you were a fan."

Bakugou lips turned up somewhat. "It's obvious that I'd fucking watch your videos before I collaborated with you. Duh. But... I've actually been watching your shit for a while now."

You knew that anybody who gamed with you would likely watch your content, so this wasn't surprising. But for some reason, hearing Bakugou say it put you on the spot, unlike how you indifferent you felt with past gaming partners. Bakugou could've watched any of your videos, even the cringy anime dating sims you played two weeks ago. At least you never played anything inappropriate on your channel...

"So you are a fan," you said, cheekily.

"So fucking what." He looked so irritated by your comment, but you only found his pissy face to be cute. "Yes, I'm a fucking fan. I've been a fan since you fucking started. Happy?"

"Wait, really?" You stopped spinning in your gaming chair. He looked like he regretted saying those words. "Oh my gosh, I would've never guessed if you hadn't told me! Do you put on my videos just to hear my voice? Do you buy all my merch? Do you want some of my gamer girl bath water--"

"Will you stop that?!" His face was a furious shade of red. You wanted to screenshot it so bad but he'd catch you red-handed. "I just said I'm a fucking fan, I didn't say I was delusional."

"You didn't need to," you said with a smile. You pointed at his face on the screen. "It's written all over."

"WHAT?!"

You burst into laughter. He could only stare dumbfounded at his monitor. He grumbled about how you were oh so impossible to deal with, but that didn't wipe the smile off your face.

"Really though, I'm glad..." you said, as your giggles faded away. "I'm always grateful for my fans, Bakubestie."

"Oh you've got nicknames for me now?"

"You're the one that called me 'princess'."

"You don't need to comment on everything I do, alright?" His face was burning brighter again. "Enough about me and all my supposed funny flaws you wanna point out. I wanna talk about you. You a fan of me or what?"

He tried to look cool while saying that. But by the way he leaned on his desk, closer to your screen, you could tell he was really interested in your answer. You backed away from your desk a bit, because his close presence embarrassed you.

"Of course I'm a fan," you said. "Who wouldn't be a fan of 'Dynamight'?"

His face cracked a handsome and cocky grin. "'Course you are." His voice possibly lowered an octave when saying that. "Since you're such a big fan of me, and I'm such a big fan of you, how about we partner up more often?"

He looked confident, but you could see his heart beating fast through his tight shirt.

That made you more confident in turn.

"Yes please, Dynamight."

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