#easy to prepare salad

[wisterianwoman]

Quinoa Tabbouleh Salad

Looking for a fresh, healthy, and easy lunch or side dish? Try this Quinoa Tabbouleh! Packed with vibrant veggies, fresh herbs, and a zesty lemon dressing—it's the perfect meal prep recipe for the week. 🌱🍋 #HealthyEating #QuinoaTabbouleh #MealPrep

Fresh, zesty, and packed with protein—this quinoa tabbouleh is a nutritious twist on the classic Mediterranean salad, perfect for meal prep or a refreshing side dish! Lately, I’ve been experimenting with more Mediterranean-inspired dishes, and I’m loving how fresh, vibrant, and nourishing they are. There’s something so satisfying about a salad that’s not only packed with flavor but also holds up…

[tangledinink]

@dmitryanya

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[lookwhatyoumademelou]

.

[thebibliosphere]

My husband and I were discussing how the first felon is defending the FDA and how the quality control of our food is gonna basically disappear and I proceeded to have so much anxiety about it that I didn't sleep last night. How do we prepare for this? Is there a way to make food safe at home? How can we avoid getting poisoned from the grocery store? Sorry for bringing this anxiety to your inbox but I'm exhausted and scared and I'm hoping you've come up with food safety tips what with your general food complications.

I’m afraid I don’t have a solution for something of this scale and am just as equally terrified, but that said:

Check your local state regulations. Some states actually have strict testing that the FDA when it comes to certain things like milk. See if they are listing any recalls.

Stop eating things raw for the foreseeable future. Wash and cook everything thoroughly, even if the bag claims it’s pre-washed, wash it again. Cooking will also help eliminate any remaining pathogens. It means no more salads for a while but that’s okay.

For things like fruit, try to go with things that have an outer skin that can be taken off. If it requires you to cut into it with a knife, give the outer skin a scrub and rinse to reduce the chances of your knife being contaminated by anything like e-coli and then contaminating the insides by cutting it up.

For fruit that can’t be peeled, make sure to inspect and wash them thoroughly. If you are immunocompromised like me, consider cooking it down into a jam or pie filling to reduce further risk. Not as fun as eating it fresh for some people, but it’s a valid way of still getting the flavor and nutrients.

For things like milk, only drink pasteurized and ultra pasteurized. Try to get pasteurized eggs if you can too.

If you don’t have a meat thermometer, now is the time to get one. Make sore everything is cooked to its required internal temperature. For poultry, the recommended temperature is 165°F (74°C), while for beef and pork, the recommended temperature is 145°F (63°C) with a 3-minute rest time. Ground meats should be cooked to 160°F (71°C). Eggs should be cooked until the yolk is set. No more runny egg yolks for a bit until we get a competent source of information back about bird flu.

For things like flour, try to go for reputable brands that have their own independent testing facilities for things like gluten. They also usually test for other things and clean their facilities thoroughly. My go to is King Arthur atm.

Also, stop eating raw cookie dough if you’re not going to toast the flour in the oven first. That’s how a lot of people get sick, not necessarily from the raw egg, though stop eating raw egg right now if you do. Again, bird flu. [Addendum] I learned the flour trick in a job I used to work, but apparently, the pre-defunded FDA didn't think toasting the flour made it safe, so maybe just don't eat raw cookie dough. And I know someone's going to be a cunt in the notes like "I don't care I do what I want" good for you, hope saying that made you feel better.]

This is a dwindling possibility with the tariffs but try to buy food imported from other countries that still have food quality control. I get my masa harina from a small company that imports directly from Colombia. They can’t afford the gluten free label required to be classified as such in the USA, but considering Cheerios in the USA can afford to buy that label and the celiac foundation certification logo and still routinely sells contaminated produce due to not using gluten free oats and a mechanical sorting system that can’t be certified gluten free (1) (2) (3), I’m more inclined to go with other countries labeling right now.

With clean water under threat, use a filter for your drinking water. We currently use the ones by Life Straw. They don’t fit into your faucet but the LS filters are better than most of the ones that can be attached that way and the housing of the jugs and countertop filters are easy to clean. Make sure you do so once a week and change the filters as directed.

Most of this is just basic food hygiene stuff combined with what it’s like to be immunocompromised, but it’s always worth repeating in case someone didn’t know, but especially worth repeating right now with all our rules and regulating bodies going out the window 😞

[bloomseishiro]

A SURPRISE VISIT — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you decide to surprise your fiancé while he is doing a photoshoot for a brand he works with. the director and photographer never even knew rin could smile in such a way...

itoshi rin x reader. fluff, pro soccer player!rin, y’all are like mid-twenties here, established relationship, sunshine x grumpy vibes :> 

word count. 1.3k

It’s not often you are able to visit Rin while he’s working. Given the nature of his job, he spends most of his time traveling around for away games and matches outside of Japan.

Today, however, Rin is in town for a photoshoot with a local luxury brand and you decide that is the perfect opportunity. for you to surprise him. He spoils you plenty himself, bringing you souvenirs and cute trinkets from his travels. This is the least you can do to pamper him back.

You prepare him a quick and easy meal—a grilled mackerel rice bowl with a side of spinach salad—but still packed with nutrients to help fuel his body for the long day ahead. Rin has complained about PR and photoshoot days to you plenty of times before. They were busy and tiring and he barely got any breaks. What better way to bring some light into his day than a little surprise? 

Along with a warm, homemade lunch, you decide you want to stop by for some flowers as well. At a nearby florist, you order a bouquet of vibrant blue morning glories (the closest color you can get to his eyes, though nothing seems to be the perfect match) mixed in with classic white florets. 

Pleased with your little bouquet and neatly wrapped lunch box, you bound along to the studio Rin was working in for the day. 

Immediately upon entry, you find yourself greeted by the receptionist, cheerily asking how she can help you. 

“I’m just here to visit my fiance,” you say with a smile. “He’s here for a shoot— Itoshi Rin.”

She eyes you skeptically, her eyes briefly flitting to the phone on her desk. “Can I ask for your name, please?”

“Of course!” you agree hurriedly, pulling your ID out of your wallet as you stated your name. It’s inconvenient at times, having a professional soccer player as a fiancé, but you understood why security had to be higher for him. “I promise, I’m not lying! See.”

You flash her your diamond engagement ring and show her your lock screen photo of you and Rin making kissy faces at the camera. 

“Oh, no! I don’t think you’re lying! Mr. Itoshi’s team always gives a list of who he might be expecting and, well, the list only has your name on it,” explains the receptionist, looking back and forth between your ID and her computer screen. “You can head right in! His session is in the big room to the left.”

“Thank you!” you chirp, gathering the bouquet back up in one arm as you hold his lunch in the other. You hope Rin will feel how much you love and value him.

You walk down the hall and hesitantly knock on the door, before deciding to push it open after not hearing a response. 

As soon as you peek your head in, your eyes lock with Rin’s as he poses in a relaxed stance, one hand in his pocket as he looks away from the camera dramatically. Once he notices you, his serious expression changes into one of surprise as the corner of his lip quirks upward into the semblance of a smile. 

“Yes! Exactly like that!” the director cries in relief. “Hold that smile— This is the first one we’ve seen from you all day!” 

As Rin’s attention is directed away from you, the sullen expression returns to his face. 

“No! Smile, I said,” said the director exasperatedly. 

You wave your flowers around in the background, hoping to catch Rin’s attention as you shoot him a playful wink. It’s similar to when parents are trying to get their baby to smile for the camera by playing peek-a-boo behind the lens. 

Rin’s much too old to be treated like a baby, yet somehow, your method works. 

His eyes soften as he lets out an amused snort. It’s quiet and barely there, but it was enough to change the ambiance of the photoshoot. From the corner of your eye, you see the creative director nodding at the photographer fervently as the rapid clicks of the camera sound in succession. 

Once satisfied with the amount of successful photos they captured, the director soon calls a quick break so the next scene can be shot. Rin wastes no time in heading over to you with a question in his gaze. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You grin, handing him the bouquet of flowers. “To give you this!” you say simply. “I wanted to surprise you. I also brought you lunch. I know you don’t have much time to eat, but I hope you can find time to sneak a few bites between shoots.” 

Rin takes the flowers and lunch box into his hands, eyes softening as he pulls you into a quick hug. “Now why did you go through all this on a random Thursday?” 

“Do I need a reason to see my handsome boyfriend—er, fiancé—during work?” you say with a playful pout. He proposed only recently, and calling him fiancé is still new to you. “Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me…”

Rin rolls his eyes at your dramatics. “I’m always happy to see you, and you know it.”

“I do!” you agree happily, bringing another small smile onto his face. “Now, I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long. I better get going.”

He frowns. “Can’t you stay longer?”

Before you can reply, the creative director from earlier concurs, “Yes, can you please? We need more pictures of Mr. Itoshi looking like he’s not miserable!”

Rin glares at him in annoyance. Partly for saying he looks miserable and partly for interrupting his conversation with you.

You laugh at the director’s pleading. “I wish I could, but I do have some work of my own to finish up today.”

You aren’t sure whose face looks more dejected—the director’s or Rin’s? 

“But,” you start, trying to cheer them both up, “Rin, you can look at the flowers I got you and smile when you think of me!” 

Rin’s cheeks color and a grunt of embarrassment escapes him as his eyes flit frantically to everyone overhearing the conversation. 

You grin, not letting up. “And, if you eat the lunch I made you, your stomach and soul will be warmed for the rest of the shoot!” 

The director nods along like you came up with the most brilliant idea ever. 

“Okay, now I really do have to go,” you say apologetically, placing a chaste kiss onto Rin’s lips. “I’ll see you at home? Soon?

He nods. “Soon.” 

“And,” the director sings, “it might be even sooner than planned. Mr. Itoshi, if you cooperate well, we may be able to finish up within the next hour and a half.” 

Rin’s expression turns serious, a look of fierce determination forming on his features. “So, I can be home in less than two hours?”

“Yes. Maybe even sooner if we get into a good flow.” 

“We will,” promises Rin as if he has no other option. “I’ll be home soon.”

You giggle at his resoluteness. Nothing motivates him more than soccer and spending time with you. 

“Work hard then!” you say. “I’ll see you in a bit, baby.”

The tips of Rin’s ears turn red as he hisses, “In public?” 

You have to stop yourself from snickering at his embarrassment. The two of you really need to work on your public displays of affection. 

“Wait— That’s it!” exclaimed the director. “That’s the perfect flushed face! Someone bring a camera here, stat!” As the director rambles along, you wave goodbye to Rin, wiggling your fingers as you watch the look of misery return to Rin’s face, his eyes calling to you to help get him out of here. 

“Break’s over! Come along now, Mr. Itoshi.” 

You spare him one last thumbs up before leaving the studio with a laugh. Well, that visit certainly turned out to be more entertaining than you had imagined. You would have to visit Rin at work much more often. 

[prlssprfctn]

It is always easy to tell that Jason is going through something by the way he is cooking.

Usually, Jason is a very, very diligent cook. He values proper meals, makes sure to feed himself nicely throughout the day. He spends hours to grocery shop, and when he comes back, he can spend even more time on cooking. If he knows that he is going to have an extra busy week, he prepares food in advance, for the rest of the days. He is just like that.

If Jason suddenly starts to do the simplest dishes ever, though, then something is wrong.

It is not about stopping to cook for himself in general — it happens, too, and it indicates that he has no power at all for anything that is not related to his job — it is about sticking to the very cheap meals. Like, bread with the cream cheese (not even toast). Or simple, boiled pasta, even without salt in it. Salad made only from tomatoes and cucumber.

Because that was what he ate as a kid. That is his comfort food, a faint memory of Catherine Todd and the dingy apartment they rented back then. And memories might be not kind, not necessarily happy, but they are his, and they are comforting.

So if you see Jason Todd chewing on plain bread or slurping some cheap, instant ramen, then he is definitely going through something.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Someone requested „unhinged life advice“ and I will try my best to provide some - but firstly, and at the risk of sounding like a buzzkill, I need to say something very annoying: 

A lot of the things that’ll make you feel happier and make your life better are - frustratingly - very, very hinged. They’re just the things you expect them to be: try to eat at least some veggies, fruit and fiber. Try to drink enough water. Go to bed early enough to get eight hours of sleep. Try to move your body, for example by taking walks or exercising. Avoid alcoholic drinks (altogether if possible but at least in excess). Quit smoking. Try to do at least some things in your free time that are not just passive consumption of content and instead challenge your brain, like learning a language or doing puzzles or writing short stories. Try to have at least some pleasant social interactions, ideally even in person. 

These pieces of advice aren’t fun. They also aren’t easy. I think we are so fascinated by the concept of „unhinged life advice“ because we are tired. We hope for something easier, for a magic quick fix, for a „this one little thing changed everything“ - while in reality building new habits needs patience and determination and time. 

So, I think the best pieces of „unhinged life advice“ are the ones that help to build these habits! I’ll share some of them. I’ll also throw in some pieces of advice that are just unhinged in the sense of „weirdly specific“ (since that’s another possible interpretation). 

Without further ado: 

If putting chicken nuggets in a salad makes you actually eat a salad you otherwise would never eat, then chicken nuggets are a healthy choice. 

If you struggle with eating fruit because the texture is so unpredictable, try frozen fruit (eaten straight out of the freezer). Frozen fruit has a predictable texture! 

If frozen fruit hurts your tummy or you don’t like that texture, either, here are some more ideas: make smoothies, or purée fruit and mix it into yoghurt, or purée fruit and add it to tomato sauce (sounds weird but a little sweetness can work great in tomato sauce), or bake fruit into muffins (if you cut them up very finely or blend them into the dough, they are often barely noticeable) 

Moving your body doesn’t have to look like exercise. Going on a walk (maybe to look for pretty stones on the sidewalks? or even just to get a coffee!) counts! Dancing to your favorite song (even alone in your room) counts too! Crawling on the floor like a dog (just for the silliness of it, which is also great for your brain) also counts! 

Sleep rituals can help a lot and they don’t need to be fancy! Just do the same thing before you go to bed and over time your brain will associate it with getting sleepy and calm down once you do it. This could be something like making a cup of chamomile tea, listening to soft piano music, praying or meditating, writing down one thing you’re grateful for etc., but also something whimsy like saying good night to your favorite plushie! 

A great way to get some steps in and also challenge your brain is to go to museums. If you feel like you are not the museum type because you don’t „get“ art, try this little trick: just don’t try to get it. Don’t focus on finding the meaning or find hidden symbolism for now. Instead, just try to find three things you like about the art piece. This doesn’t have to be anything smart or deep. It can be something like „I like the blue color the artist used“ or „I like how fluffy the clouds look“. This approach will help you relax and actually learn to appreciate the art… which is what you need to do in order to allow your brain to look for meanings

There’s probably at least one vegetable you think you hate but you really just hate the way your mom prepares them (no offense to your mom). It can be a fun challenge to revisit some foods you decided you hate as a kid and to see if that’s still true. 

Allow yourself to be bored. „I need to look at two screens simultaneously at all times to avoid a thought from occurring“ is not as funny in real life as it sounds as a meme. Your brain needs to be bored sometimes. Your thoughts need to wander sometimes. If that’s hard, then start by just doing certain things more intentionally: do not watch YouTube while eating. Just eat. Do not scroll through TikTok while on the toilet. Just poop. Your brain will reward you for actually getting some time to sort through and process stuff. Even if it’s just while pooping. 

Allow yourself to gameify those boring adult tasks if that works for you. Pretend to be on a cooking show while chopping onions. Sing a silly song about laundry while doing laundry. Beat your own record for speed-cleaning. Give those dishes a nice pool party in your sink. 

Reading of all kinds still counts as reading. Yes, it can be a rewarding challenge to finally finish that bestselling novel that is totally outside of your genres or interests, or that classic piece of literature that everyone should know. But if it’s too overwhelming and kinda stops you from reading altogether, then just put it aside and read something that’s actually fun for now! It can be a graphic novel or a children’s book or fanfiction or Wikipedia articles, too. 

Make lists. I may be biased because I love lists and make lists for everything (I even have a list categorizing all my lists…) but lists can be such a great tool! Any task becomes much more satisfying when you can cross it off a list.

When people say things like „someone should empty the dishwasher“ or „we should take out the trash today“, they often mean „I want you to empty the dishwasher“ or „I want you to take out the trash“. They’re not even being confusing on purpose or playing mind games, they just assume that wording it so indirectly is nicer and more polite.

If you safely can, then go to Pride events (and queer spaces in general) in small towns or rural areas! They’re often the ones who need support the most. And since they’re smaller, they can also be more accessible (in terms of less noise, less crowded etc.)

I don’t think this one is rooted in science but I’m a big fan of having little comfort items. Just little „emotional support trinkets“ or lucky charms you can carry with you and look at or fidget with when you get nervous. Of course it’s important to not fall into overconsumption with that (impulsively purchasing lots of items you then do not end up actually using or even just purchasing them for the thrill of purchasing), but, if done intentionally (only picking a limited number of items that you actually form an emotional attachment and assign personal meaning to), I believe it can be a simple way to boost happy feelings. It can also work well as your own little „secret“ Pride item! If you don’t feel safe or comfortable wearing rainbow accessories but want something to affirm your identity for yourself, it can be a great idea to assign your own meaning to something totally random. Good way to train your creativity too! 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[charlottecherries]

Internal Glow Up Part One- Physical Health

Diet

Eat a variety of fruit and vegetables through out the week. This can be made easier, and cheaper, by buying them frozen

Making different kinds of salads with fun dressings of vegetable platters with a fun but healthy dip will make this much easier

Meals should contain all the food groups to help with satiation and nutrition- include a complete protein, carbohydrates, unsaturated fats and fibre

Create a list or book of quick, easy and healthy meals which can be a go-to at anytime

If there are any gaps don't be afraid to take some vitamins

Drink plenty of water as it will prevent headaches and brain fog. Having a cute water bottle can help reach a certain goal

Find enjoyment in cooking and preparing meals

Meal prep will make things simpler and easier in the week.

Plan your meals and make a shopping list

Exercise

Workout a few times a week to begin with

Have rest days to allow for muscle rest and growth

Don’t get upset if you miss a workout, just move on and continue as usual

Find workouts and plans that you actually enjoy

Be grateful for movement

Ensure your body is fuelled for a workout

Have variety

Do a mix of cardio and strength training

Training your back can help improve posture and reduce back pain

Training your abdominal muscles can improve posture, balance and coordination

Sleep

Follow a nighttime routine

Drink sleep teas or valerian root

Avoid caffeine after midday

Don’t eat too close to bedtime

Wear cute and comfortable pyjamas to bed

Light lavender candles or incense for a few hours before bedtime

Reduce blue light usage before bed

Series Masterlist

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hello! Could you make a reader x Dazai? Like, the reader is from the armed detective agency and is like, really kind, loving and doting for everyone (especially the younger ones). And like, really cares about Dazai, like, bringing home-cooked meals and always sharing them with him when realizing he doesn’t eat at the agency. Giving in to his whines, paying attention even when the rest is occupied with tasks. Not asking but lingering every time he talks about suicide. Joking around with him…you know, whatever makes you comfortable writing!!

Thank you 😊

Even You Can Bloom Here

snyopsis: Amidst the chaos of the Armed Detective Agency, your unwavering care for those around you begins to reach even Dazai Osamu, who, little by little, starts choosing your warmth over his loneliness.

content/warnings: ADA!Dazai x reader, fluff, 2.055 words

The Armed Detective Agency was always a strange mix of chaos and comfort. On any given day, the office might be filled with stacks of paperwork, half-shouted arguments, and at least one life-threatening mission waiting in someone's inbox.

But amid that chaos, you had found a rhythm of your own.

"Y/N-san! Y/N-san!!" Kenji's voice carried through the office as he bounded toward you, a wide grin on his face and a pot of soil in his hands. "Look! The cucumbers are sprouting!"

You turned from the tea you were preparing and crouched down beside him, brushing dirt off his overalls with a fond smile. "That's amazing, Kenji! You've got a real talent here."

"I used to grow rows of these back home," he beamed proudly. "Pa says nothing beats homegrown cucumbers."

"I think he's right," you said softly, already mentally adding cucumber salad to tonight's dinner plan. You couldn't bring him his family's farm, but you could bring this—a little piece of it, tucked into a rooftop garden you'd slowly been coaxing into life.

"Want me to help after work?" he asked cheerfully.

"Of course," you chuckled, giving his hair a playful ruffle. "We'll make a whole farm up there before you know it."

Just across the room, Atsushi was nervously eyeing a stack of files like they might bite him.

"Paperwork again?" you asked gently, sliding over beside him.

He jumped a little, then relaxed when he saw you. "I-I don't even know how to fill half of this out."

Without missing a beat, you reached for the nearest pen. "Good thing you know someone who does."

His shoulders relaxed, his usual anxious tension softening into something lighter, something almost close to contentment. These moments—helping, guiding, taking care—came as naturally to you as breathing.

A small movement caught your attention out of the corner of your eye.

Kyouka was curled up on the agency's battered couch, small and quiet, her sword resting by her side like a loyal shadow. Her eyes were starting to drift closed in that way children tried to fight sleep but never quite succeeded.

You excused yourself from Atsushi and grabbed the knitted blanket you always kept folded over the back of your chair. Quietly, you made your way over and draped it around her shoulders, tucking it in just enough to keep her warm without waking her. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

You had just returned to your desk when you noticed someone hadn't touched the lunch box you left them that morning. You didn't need to check twice to know who.

Dazai Osamu was stretched leaned back in hhis chair as usual, arms folded behind his head, humming some morbid old love song about the sea and slow, drifting death. His untouched bento sat on the table in front of him.

You wandered over and leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "That food's not going to eat itself."

Dazai cracked one eye open. "Ah, Y/N-chan. Come to serenade me as I slip into a poetic starvation-induced coma?"

"Not on my watch," you replied flatly, though there was warmth in your voice. "You don't get out of living that easy. Not while I'm around."

He smirked lazily, but he did sit up straight, eyeing the food with disinterest before glancing at you. "You always bring me food. Aren't you afraid I'll come to rely on you?"

"I want you to," you said softly, without missing a beat.

He looked at you then—really looked—and the air between you stilled for a fraction of a moment, something unspoken pressing just beneath the surface.

"…You're strange," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Too kind for this world."

You shrugged, smiling faintly. "That's what everyone here needs. Someone to be kind when the world forgets how."

Dazai didn't answer, but he took the chopsticks, poked into the rice, and took a bite.

Victory.

The Agency didn't just run on miracles or powers. It ran on people. On threads of care, cups of tea, warm food, and soft words given when they were needed most.

And you would be that warmth. For all of them.

Even for the one who joked too much about death and ate too little—especially for him.

Of course it didn't happen all at once.

With Dazai, nothing ever did—not the important things, anyway.

It started with the smallest shifts. Barely noticeable at first, unless you were really paying attention. Which, of course, you were.

One morning, you set a bento on the corner of his desk like always, expecting the usual dramatic sigh or sarcastic comment about how eating was "such a chore." Instead, he glanced at you, eyes sharp and observant, and said softly, almost like it slipped out by accident:

"…Thanks."

No flourish, no theatricality. Just that one, quiet word.

You didn't comment on it. Just smiled.

The next shift came on a rainy afternoon, when most of the Agency had scattered for errands or assignments. You found Dazai in his usual place on the couch, gazing out the window with a rare sort of stillness, bandaged hands loosely folded in his lap.

You didn't ask if he was okay. You didn't push. Instead, you sat on the other end of the couch with a book, folding your legs under you, giving him space but making sure he knew you were there.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence, the rain tapping steadily against the glass.

Then: "That book boring?"

You glanced at him. "Not really."

"Then why are you watching me instead of reading?"

You tilted your head, thoughtful. "I don't mind watching you."

His brow lifted at that, genuinely surprised. A breath of a laugh escaped him—not mocking, just… curious. "Hm. Dangerous thing to say to a man like me."

"I'll take my chances."

You both left it at that. But his posture shifted. He wasn't curled away from you anymore. He was… with you, in that small, quiet moment.

The rooftop garden became another of his habits.

Not every day—but often enough that you stopped being surprised when you'd come up for watering or weeding and find him already there, hands in his coat pockets, watching the little green shoots sway in the breeze.

"It's ridiculous," he said once, crouching next to a tomato plant, poking at the dirt. "Me. Caring whether a plant grows or not."

You knelt beside him. "It's not ridiculous. Life's hard. Things growing in spite of it—that's kind of beautiful, don't you think?"

For once, he didn't argue. He just looked at the small leaves and, for a heartbeat, looked like he wanted to believe you.

Sometimes he still joked about dying. Of course he did. That was his armor.

But it changed.

Instead of directing it outward—frustrating his coworkers or testing their patience—he saved it for you, like it was a private joke. A strange kind of trust.

Like the time you caught him standing by the office window at sunset.

"Looks like a good evening for a poetic demise, don't you think?"

You walked up beside him, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. "You jump, I'm going after you."

That got him to laugh—really laugh—something warm and genuine, the kind of laugh that carried no weight, no mask, no sharpness underneath it. Just real.

"You'd ruin the poetry of it," he teased.

"Good. I've always preferred prose anyway."

And for the first time, Dazai didn't walk away from the window. He stood next to you instead, watching the sky fade into violet with that soft, unreadable expression of his.

One evening, long after everyone else had gone home, you found him asleep on the office couch—not dramatically sprawled like usual, but curled in on himself, one arm over his eyes, the bandages on his wrist visible where his sleeve had slipped.

You didn't wake him. Instead, you fetched the softest blanket you could find and draped it over him gently, tucking it around his shoulders. Just as you started to move away, you felt fingers lightly catch your wrist.

"Stay," he murmured, barely audible.

No drama. No games.

Just a quiet, vulnerable word, like a crack in a well-worn mask.

You stayed.

It wasn't love yet—not quite.

But it was trust. And with Dazai, that was something rarer than any confession.

But the biggest change was yet to come.

For weeks, it had always been you finding him. You bringing the meals. You settling beside him on the couch. You being the constant in his drifting orbit.

But now he was changing his patterns.

It began with small things.

You caught him lingering near your desk more often, fiddling absently with pens or paperclips that didn't belong to him. He'd act like he was just wandering by, casting a careless glance at the reports you were working on, but the glance always shifted—always—to you.

"Hard at work, I see," he'd say lightly. But the way his eyes rested on you was different now. Softer. Focused.

He stopped ignoring the lunches you left for him.

Then, he started waiting for you.

One afternoon, you left the office to grab tea, only to find Dazai by the door when you returned, leaning lazily against the frame, as if he'd just happened to be there at that moment.

"You're following me now?" you teased, brushing past him with a smile.

"Hm." He fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets. "Maybe. Someone's got to make sure you don't get into trouble."

"That's rich, coming from you."

He smiled—not that wide, sharp grin he used with the others, but something smaller. Something real.

You didn't ask why he was suddenly gravitating toward you. You didn't need to. The answer hung in every little moment:

When he'd sit on the arm of your chair, close enough that your arms brushed, under the pretense of reading your reports over your shoulder.

When he'd appear beside you while you were watering the rooftop garden, not saying anything—just being there, watching your hands in the dirt like it was something soothing.

When he'd start offering you pieces of the sweets you brought for him, wordlessly holding one out between his fingers, waiting until you took it before eating his own.

It was after a mission—tense, exhausting, and too close for comfort—that the feeling crystallized between you.

The Agency was quiet that evening. You were on the rooftop, fingers brushing the leaves of a stubborn little basil plant, when you heard soft footsteps behind you.

Dazai didn't say anything at first. He just walked over and crouched beside you, elbows on his knees, gaze tracing the skyline beyond the fence.

"I thought you'd be here," he murmured.

Something about the way he said it—soft, certain—made your heart skip in your chest.

You glanced at him. "You came looking?"

For once, no teasing. No playful sarcasm. Just honesty:

"…Yeah."

Silence stretched out between you, but not uncomfortably.

Then, as if testing the weight of it, he spoke again—softer this time. "You… feel safe. To be around."

It wasn't much. It wasn't a confession. But it was everything coming from him.

Your throat tightened, but you kept your voice steady. "Good. I want you to feel that way. You deserve somewhere safe."

His hand shifted slightly on the concrete between you both, fingers brushing against yours—not holding, not yet, just there.

"I don't really know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "Letting people stay."

You turned your hand slightly, enough that your pinky curled against his.

"You don't have to know," you said gently. "Just don't push me away when you're scared. I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, his eyes glimmered—not with his usual amusement or sharpness, but with something raw. Barely there. Barely spoken.

"…You're terrifying, you know that?" he whispered, voice hoarse with something that might've been laughter, might've been something else entirely.

"Why?"

"Because I think I'm starting to believe you."

And for once, Dazai didn't leave first. He stayed with you on that rooftop, shoulder brushing yours, quiet and steady as the sky darkened above your little garden.

Not out of obligation.

Not out of curiosity.

Out of choice.

Masterlist

[flavorcraftrecipes]

Ground Beef Stuffed Shells – Perfect for Family Dinners 🍝🧀

These cheesy, hearty stuffed shells are filled with a savory ground beef mixture, smothered in marinara sauce, and baked to golden perfection — a meal your whole family will love!

Ingredients: For the Stuffed Shells:

12-16 large pasta shells (conchiglioni) 1 lb ground beef 1 small onion, finely chopped 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 tsp Italian seasoning 1/2 tsp salt 1/2 tsp black pepper 1 cup ricotta cheese 1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese 1 egg Fresh parsley for garnish For the Sauce:

2 cups marinara sauce (store-bought or homemade) 1 tbsp olive oil 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional for a little heat) Instructions: Cook the Pasta Shells:

Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Cook the large pasta shells according to package instructions until al dente. Drain and set aside to cool slightly. Prepare the Beef Filling:

In a large skillet, heat a bit of olive oil over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and garlic, and sauté until softened (about 3 minutes). Add the ground beef to the skillet and cook until browned. Drain any excess fat. Stir in the Italian seasoning, salt, pepper, and a splash of marinara sauce. Let it simmer for a couple of minutes, then remove from heat. Make the Cheese Filling:

In a bowl, mix the ricotta cheese, mozzarella, Parmesan, and egg. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper, and stir to combine. Stuff the Shells:

Carefully spoon the beef mixture into each pasta shell, filling them generously. Place the stuffed shells into a greased baking dish. Assemble the Dish:

Pour the marinara sauce over the stuffed shells. If desired, sprinkle some extra mozzarella cheese on top. Cover the baking dish with aluminum foil and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and bubbly. Garnish and Serve:

Garnish with fresh parsley and serve hot with a side of garlic bread or a green salad! Enjoy! This Ground Beef Stuffed Shells recipe is an easy, family-friendly meal that combines everything you love: tender pasta, savory beef, creamy cheese, and rich sauce. It's the ultimate comfort food for a weeknight dinner or any occasion!

🍝 #StuffedShells 🧀 #CheesyGoodness 🍽️ #FamilyDinner 🌿 #ComfortFood

[atlaculture]

Favorite Foods: Katara

Since Katara was forced to take on a traditionally maternal role at an early age, I'd like to think her favorite Water Tribe dishes are the ones that are quick and easy to prepare. I also feel that Katara would be fond of the few fruits and edible greens available in the arctic, as it brings back fond memories of foraging with her mother and grandmother during the warmer seasons.

Sea Prunes (Entire 1st Row)- Katara doesn't express many food preferences in the show, but she seemed pretty enthusiastic about eating sea prunes, so I assume it's a meat she enjoys. Sea prune is another name for the black katy chiton, a type of mollusk. Their shells are dark and leathery, earning them nicknames like "sea prune" and "gumboot". Sea prunes are a traditional protein source for many indigenous peoples in Alaska and western coastal Canada. I think Katara would enjoy them sauteed with Chinese (Earth Kingdom) five-spice or tossed with seal oil in a kelp salad.

Suaasat - A Greenlandic Inuit soup. It traditionally consists of a thick broth made of seal meat, barley, onions, and potatoes. I'd like to think that she likes any dish where you can just throw all the ingredients in a pot and feed a lot of people fast.

Boiled Crab - She likes crabs because they're relatively easy to catch and even easier to cook. You just boil them and crack them open!

Pitsik - Dried Arctic Char. Like crab, she enjoys the simplicity of preparing it. You simply fillet the fish with its skin on, score and salt the flesh, hang the char to let the arctic winds airdry it, and you have a delicious jerky-like snack! They are also rather visually striking when you hang them up.

Akutaq - Meaning "mixed together" in Inupiat and Yupik, this dish is traditionally made with whipped fat, boiled fish, and berries. Commonly used berries include cranberries, lingonberries, cloudberries, bearberries, and crowberries. A sweet and savory meal that Katara and her mother probably used to make together.

Suvalik - If akutaq is “Arctic Ice Cream”, then suvalik is “Arctic Fruit Salad”. It’s traditionally comprised of emulsified fish eggs and seal oil mixed with berries. It’s described as creamy and sweet. This dish is known in Yupik culture as qerpertaq.

Bannock - Also called palauga in some Inuit dialects and alatiq in Yupik. Bannock is an unleavened flatbread found throughout North American indigenous culture. Since the flour has to be imported all the way from the Earth Kingdom, it was a rare treat for Katara growing up. She also likes how easy it is to make.

For more Water Tribe dishes, check out my Cultural Cuisine tag.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz

[pinkiceee]

Summertime Service

Summary: Reader throws the BAU team a summer barbeque feast. Spencer is so moved by her hard work that he feels there's only one way to truly show her his gratitude.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut (18+, minors DNI)

Content Warnings: coworker relationship, descriptions of food, mutual pining, heavy kissing, praise, worship, begging, leg and feet massages, use of a gendered nickname ("pretty girl"), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, reader wears a sundress. please let me know if I missed any!

Author's Notes: This is the first fic I've written and published in a very long time, so please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like more! Huge thank you to the lovely @fortheloveofwonderland for reading over this for me 💗 Also, this was written as a part of @imagining-in-the-margins's Summer Sunshine Challenge!☀️

Word Count: 6.1k

As you stepped out onto Rossi’s patio, the summer sun beat down on the skin of your exposed shoulders. The different, yet still prevalent heat radiating from the large serving dish of meat you carried also played a role in the ever-present sweat gathering on your upper body, but you trekked through the grass with a smile, attempting to appear unaffected.

Tara and Luke rushed to help relieve you of the burden in your arms, but you insisted they refrain.

“Ah, nope! This barbeque is all about you guys, okay—no helping!” You said to their many protests. Lightheartedly dejected they sat back down, offering their thanks as they helped themselves to the food.

You set down the tray amongst a swarm of arms crossing, reaching for utensils in bowls of potato salad and plates of freshly grilled vegetables. You took a moment to admire the feast occurring before you, then turned on your heel to fetch more.

You and Penelope had made this plan weeks ago, just as summer was beginning to heat up and just around the time you’d joined the BAU team as Emily’s personal assistant. After a series of difficult and depressing cases, Penelope suggested that a family get-together was in order, and she enlisted your help to plan it. She, with Rossi’s help, secured the tables and canopies for the event, while you handled the menu and the serving.

You weren’t much of a gourmet chef, but you had a few tried-and-true summer recipes in your back pocket for times like these. From years of family barbeques of your own, you’d honed techniques for preparing brisket and grilling chicken, and you’d also learned a thing or two about making macaroni and cheese and fruit salad.

Under the shade of your sundress, nerves wracked your steps. Despite the bubbly facade and easy-going assurances to the team that you didn’t need any assistance, tremors radiated through your body with each dish that was carried to the outdoor tables. The shaking wasn’t due to their weight or your lack of strength; it could all be attributed to anxiety and stress and upcoming exhaustion.

This was the first time you were attending a BAU “family” event — let alone orchestrating one — so you had put a lot of pressure on yourself to impress the team.

They saved lives and solved crimes across the country while you did mostly clerical work — filed papers and answered phone calls. The division of labor was definitely lopsided, and you felt a certain level of gratitude was in order for the team. For those who did impactful work.

Just as you’d returned to Rossi’s kitchen to retrieve another dish for the table, Spencer appeared behind you. His subtle cologne filled the air; despite summer raging on outside, he smelled of autumn with his cinnamon and coffee scent. The heat of his arm rose goosebumps up your body, but he shifted to stand next to you before anyone could notice the proximity.

“Let me help, please,” He whispered, prolonging the physical contact that was typically out of character for him. As if all the heat of summer wasn’t enough, the pool of warmth he summoned inside you lit aflame with his pleas. When you finally met his eye, that fire reached your cheeks before you could do much to hide it.

Something that you’d once brushed off as a workplace crush blossomed between you and Spencer. Although you weren’t together, there was no denying the tension felt between you two when your hands brushed at the coffee counter in the office, or when you lingered over his shoulder for just a second more than necessary when passing out case files.

Lately, it had been a lot more difficult to will the thoughts away with how the heat of the season forced Spencer to shed his typical layers of clothing. Even now, he stood beside you in a simple polo shirt that clung to his chest. You could almost feel the buttons between your fingers, sliding through the fabric as your eyes grazed over him — but the oven alarm began to blare, dragging you away from the fantasy.

“Spencer,” You took a few steps away from him, pulling a few dishes from the oven and placing them on the counter. You failed to hide the smirk his presence pulled out of you. “You know this is supposed to be about appreciating the team’s hard work. You should be relaxing!”

He rolled his eyes at your insistence, then glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one had yet to notice his absence. Luckily, they were still all consumed by the fruits of your labor — literally and metaphorically.

“Your hard work should be recognized too. You’re going to overexert yourself,” His pleas felt like music and dissonance in your ears. On one hand, the attention he paid you made your knees weak, and it was obvious by the heavy breath in your chest that you enjoyed his company. But on the other hand, you felt resolute in the objective to purely serve the team tonight. The desire to praise them for their work — the desire to feel accepted by them — triumphed over the crush you’d developed on Spencer, at least for now.

“I’ll be fine. Now go back and enjoy before someone else thinks I’m accepting helpers,” You responded, flashing a tender smile as Spencer stayed in hesitation. A flash of something crossed over his eyes — irritation, desire, annoyance, or pity, you couldn’t quite tell. All you could recognize was the way his feet dragged in defeat, leaving you to your serving duties quite slowly.

Although not a profiler, you could’ve sworn he seemed spurred on, like he had to hold himself back from acting on an urge to advance on you. You brushed the thoughts away as best you could for now, returning your focus to the task at hand.

♡  ♡  ♡

The next few hours were a flash of food and drinks and summer heat. Jack, Henry, Michael, Hank, and all of Matt’s kids ran around the tables with their popsicles, definitely giving the ants in Rossi’s yard a feast of their own. Everything from cucumber salad to watermelon slices, to vegetable kebabs made their rounds down each table, visiting each BAU member.

The scent of lavender, peppermint, and citrus candles mingled in the air in an attempt to keep bugs at bay. But a symphony of crickets and cicadas still played as a soundtrack to the feast, and you watched as Emily and JJ were vigilant against flies that threatened to join the party, swatting around the food every few minutes.

You spent most of the event rushing around, finding places for each dish to reside while the rest of the team balanced between repose and indulgence. Tara, Emily, JJ, and Penelope raved about the veggies, while Morgan and Rossi praised the beefier selections you’d prepared. The team showered you with compliments, but you continued to deny their requests to help.

Food acted as an avenue for both nourishment and gratitude that you felt was desperately underserved to your new family, and accepting their help seemed to cheapen that sentiment.

Maybe it was all the incredible ways in which they brought peace to people or all the times that they helped you feel at peace with their work; regardless, you felt they were owed some home cooking and summer relaxation, and you wanted to be the one to give it to them.

“If I had known you could cook like this, I would’ve suggested this barbeque months ago,” Rossi quipped over his clean plate. It must’ve been nice for him to not be the head chef for the team for a change.

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten this good in years,” Emily chimed in, with agreements made by Matt and Morgan. Their wives nodded with them in earnest agreement.

As the sun began to set, a wash of pinks and purples created the perfect backdrop to the barbeque. Penelope had the idea to set up tiki torches, which you lit with Hotch’s help. Their gentle glow kept the brightness at a dim level while still ensuring sight to guide you as you continued your service.

Although the energy level had died down quite a bit thanks to the heat of the day and the abundance of food everyone had, the team was still rapt in lively discussions as you served dessert.

Blueberry pie with a lattice-style crust, chocolate cake with matching frosting, and homemade vanilla bean ice cream graced the tables. You weren't usually one to brag, but even you had to admit the delicious sweets were a perfect final touch to the event.

Even at dusk, the ice cream sweat and started melting almost as soon as it found its place on their plates. The sickly-sweet aroma from the pie carried on long after its trip in the oven, mingling with the already present floral aromas that seemed elevated due to the heat. You were surprised the barbeque hadn’t summoned neighbors, or at least more bugs.

Residual summer heat could be so damning yet comforting all at the same time.

With dessert served, you finally allowed yourself to sit and join the team. The aches in your feet and back that had gone unnoticed during the hours of cooking and service finally surfaced as your weight shifted, encouraging a painful rest to overtake your limbs. Without realizing it, you’d slumped over in your chair for quite a while, staring out into space as the party continued around you.

That was until Spencer detected your quietness and waved a hand in front of your eyes, commanding attention.

“Are you okay, y/n?” His voice was barely audible over the discussions happening around you. But, you still nodded, straightened your back, and reached for a slice of pie.

“Yep, just got distracted,” You gave him a small smile, but you could see that he didn’t quite believe your performance. The fatigue in your body was incredibly apparent, and the look behind your eyes was one of exhaustion. However, Spencer hesitated to react to his observations.

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say or do about it, but you watched as he pursed his lips together in contemplation — planning something.

Whatever he was scheming, it was set in motion as Matt and his family departed. Following him were JJ and her loved ones, plus Emily and Tara. They all offered repeated praises to you, Penelope, and Rossi as they crossed the threshold into the blackness of summer night.

Before you could completely gather your things, suddenly Spencer pulled you aside and insisted on coming over to his apartment tonight. His usual dismissive, demur demeanor had changed, and he loomed over you with a sort of persuasive aura that radiated from his request. It was as if he was protecting you from something, or rather, preparing you for something. Either way, anticipation dripped from his words as you stared back, silent, in response.

“I-If that makes you uncomfortable, by all means, ignore me,” he spoke in hushed tones. “But I really think you’ll enjoy it if you come.”

If you hadn’t been so exhausted, the absolute shock from his blatant flirtation would have caused your breath to catch in your throat before you could ever eloquently reply. However, with the fatigue wracking you, all you could do was scan his face for any sign of sarcasm.

He seemed to be genuine, and your body instinctually gravitated toward him with the offer. It went without saying that this invitation felt incredibly forward, but the sleep that threatened to overtake you also kept you from worrying too much about the obvious blush that spread across your face at the thought of what leaving with Spencer would look like to the rest of the team.

Objectively, though, Spencer’s apartment was closer than yours, and you weren't sure if you could handle the lull of a drive this late at night. You justified to yourself that accepting his offer was out of a precautionary notion — but in all honesty, the seductive implications of Spencer’s plan were what really captivated you, and pulled an ‘okay’ from your lips.

You’d spent all night denying requests, and you didn’t want to forgo this one.

In the passenger seat of Spencer’s rarely-driven car, your body pulsed with fatigue at every stop. You wondered if he could sense it radiating through you or if he was just burnt out on masking his flirtation towards you all day, as you caught him glancing at your body at every red light. Each push and pull brought on by inertia briefly relieved the pain, then rushed it back in, but his gaze did give you another sense of relief.

Thankfully, the drive was short, and the walk up to Spencer’s door was aided by his hand on your lower back. With drowsiness prevalent in every step, you took a moment to check your surroundings and ask yourself if this was truly happening. The flirtation, the lingering physicality between you two, and the blushes that damned every innocent conversation you’d had together seemed to rise to the top of your brain at that moment as you recognized the reality you’d found yourself in.

Aided by his unabashed touch on your back, your awareness of reality fed your deep desire that he truly led you here for scandalous reasons, but the rational side of your brain that was just barely awake triggered anxiety to flare. Fear of unknowns, of rejection, or maybe both floated up your spine and burned in the impression of his fingers upon you.

But, then his door swung open. Almost instantly after you walked inside and he shut the door, Spencer knelt on his knees before you. The swift change in position made you stumble backward, and confusion spread across your face.

“What are you doing?” The question bubbled out of you fast, but you hadn’t meant to sound disinterested. It was alarming, for sure, to abruptly feel the heat of his body so close to your aching legs, but that didn’t mean the view wasn’t incredibly alluring.

“I’m taking care of you,” Spencer responded, his voice was quiet but poignant as if this was standard procedure.

You stood frozen as he slid the strap of your sandal down the back of your heel, and his fingers brushed against the veins of your feet.

“You took care of us all day. Now it’s your turn to relax.”

Taken aback by his sudden servitude, no verbal response came from your mouth. Instead, you melted under his fingertips as he slowly removed the other shoe, then traveled up your calves to pull down your sheer stockings. The gesture was so intimate, so quiet, so tender. Paired with the exhaustion and excitement and bewilderment, the elegance of his touch brought tears to your eyes.

Spencer stood back up slowly, his lips ghosting over your arm on his ascent. Your eyes met in the dim light of his apartment for the first time, both sets deepened with a near primal sense of surprised attraction. Your body felt as if on fire, vibrating, or possibly both with how electric your nerves were with your closeness and the threat of his impending adoration.

Just as the summer sun had earlier shone on your exposed shoulders, the richness of Spencer’s deep brown eyes was now affixed to them. His index finger wrapped around the thin strap of your sundress, pulling it over the curve of your shoulder at an agonizingly slow pace. It was so soft yet so tense — neither one of you had made a sound in what felt like minutes — a whimper threatened to fall from your lips just as Spencer’s eyes flickered back to meet yours.

“You overexerted yourself,” Spencer echoed what he’d warned you against earlier in the evening, breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but wearily smile at the re-use of his own words.

“I think I’ll accept a helper now,” You replied hushed, voice wavering so much you thought it might shatter if any more than a heavy breath was expelled from your throat. The twitch of a smile spread across Spencer’s face just as you had the thought — as if he’d read your mind.

But the silence resumed, and Spencer’s hand sent the top of your sundress cascading down your forearm. The fabric halted at your wrist, and as Spencer coaxed the other strap down the opposite side, he slowly exposed your chest to the cold air of his apartment.

After a day in the sun, his air conditioning felt arctic, and despite the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach thanks to his mannerisms, the tips of Spencer’s fingers iced over the skin of your décolletage.

Whether he noticed your shivering, or if this was all a part of his grander plan, you did not know. But just as the weight of the sundress carried itself passed your hips to pool at your ankles, Spencer clasped your hands together and led you toward his bedroom.

Again, anxiety pulled you from your lustful daze. Was this really happening? Had you been ignorant all along to Spencer’s advances, or was this just as spontaneous for him? It’s not like you didn’t want this — more so, you were just in a state of disbelief at the way the day’s events had transpired.

Disregarding the chorus of cicadas permeating his bedroom window, Spencer guided you to sit on the edge of his bed in otherwise complete silence. He knelt in front of you, mimicking your positions from the foyer. The arousal that sprung from you at his sudden movement made your cheeks blush a shade of red deeper than any summertime sunburn could create.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but become aware of the obvious disparity in modesty between the two of you now, but he caught your wrists before you could shift to cover your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He spoke up with a sobering tone. The wistfulness and tension were briefly broken, and you smiled at the notion that he still checked for consent despite all that you’d done so far.

“Not just okay. I want it, Spence. I want you,” Your voice, a little bolder now, seemed to boom in his most private room. Without another word, he guided your hands to the buttons on his shirt, before releasing your wrists in favor of splaying his hands across your thighs.

You inhaled sharply, shuddering at the contact. But it did make your hands move faster, pulling his buttons apart in a quite similar fashion to the eager way you’d daydreamed about doing so earlier.

Just as you’d completed the task and pulled the fabric of his shirt over his head, you felt the pads of his fingers reconnect with your legs and dig into the supple flesh of your thighs. A deep sigh left your lips almost instantly as he worked the worn muscles, firmly pressing into them. You felt the stress shift and dissipate, and your body reacted automatically to his ministrations.

It wasn’t until his massage traveled to your calves that more salacious noises fell from your lips. You knew that this kind of attention wasn’t strictly sexual, but the relief Spencer brought to you, to the tenderness in your legs and feet, demanded a vocal response.

At first, mewls and faint sighs responded to his help, but they deepened in tandem with his strength. The kneading of his fingers across the width of your legs, the pressure he placed upon your Achilles' tendons, and the force he pushed into the worn arches of your feet all played roles in the escalation of your noises into pure, wanton moans.

“You are so beautiful,” Spencer spoke into the landscape of sounds you were creating for him. “Not just like this, but all the time. The way you laugh, the work you do, in all the things you did for us tonight — you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

His impromptu speech stunned you for a moment, and you did your best to keep your interjections to heavy sighs to truly listen to him. But his praise wasn’t something you were used to, and although you’d been complimented all night at the barbeque, something about Spencer’s tone inspired a unique bashfulness.

“Stop,” You half-heartedly chuckled, unsure of how to respond to such an admission other than to dismiss it.

“I’m serious, y/n,” He continued, unfazed. “Ever since you walked through the doors at the office I felt…saved. I’m not religious but — I mean, you’ve literally got me on my knees here.”

Your face burned with the worship, and his joke inspired a smile, but you also did your best to relax your reactions and just take his confession.

“You’re smart, you’re sweet, you’re compassionate and caring, and I just feel like you deserve the world…I don’t know if you—if you’ve ever thought of me like this, but, I really do adore you. And I want to serve you like you did me tonight.”

With his previous, dominant stance seemingly shaken, you took the opportunity to run your hands up his arms and into his hair. He closed his eyes at the feeling, leaning into the touch and basking in it. Leaning in close, your lips met in a soft, slow kiss.

As you gently pushed against one another, your more primal drives slowly regenerated, and you pulled his hair tenderly to just barely create a separation. His eyes shot open, struggling to focus on anything else but your lips. With another gentle tug, you wound him back up to the previous tension you two had.

“Show me how much you adore me,” The command rumbled in your chest before you even truly processed it.

But that was enough for Spencer. With the ending of the last syllable, his eyes fell half-lidded, and he quickly pushed your lips back together.

The steady and slow pace you’d honed since arriving at his apartment was suddenly nowhere to be found. Desperation laced your every move as you traveled up his bed; Spencer towering over you, never disconnecting in your endeavor. You felt the weight of his body settle between your legs. Not only was his skin sweltering with heat, but you could feel how achingly hard he was through his slacks.

You kissed with the desperation of a couple saying goodbye. It was as if both of you were grasping at each other, fearful of any distance that may find its way into your embrace. As your eager hands traversed down his bare chest and stomach, Spencer rushed to match your near nakedness through a rather clumsy removal of his pants.

While the sweet and savory scents of summer seemed distant now, everpresent was the smell of Spencer. Coffee and cinnamon filled your nose once again as his hair cascaded over your face, sweeping behind his trail of kisses down your chest.

He paused on the journey, motioning for you to lean upwards where his lips found yours in another fit of passionate kissing. He reached around you, unclasping your bra and gently guiding the fabric down your arms. Another shiver wracked through you as your breasts were finally exposed, but it was quickly remedied by the warmth of Spencer’s palms.

He cupped them softly at first, dragging mewls from your mouth that he used to slide his tongue between your lips. It wasn’t until he felt the shake of your muscles that he realized how uncomfortable the position must’ve been, leading him to push you back onto the mattress, palms still full of your tits.

With your mouths freshly separated, Spencer let a string of saliva fall from his mouth, coating the valley on your chest in a way that caught every moonbeam in the room. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the plush swell of your breast, setting your skin aflame. You moaned shamelessly at the delicious pressure, earning a satisfied smile from the man between your legs.

You hopelessly clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to feel the press of his whole body against you once more, but he continued his descent toward your center.

Painstakingly slow, he dragged your underwear down your legs, watching your face for any sign of disapproval. When he couldn’t find any, he discarded them before guiding your legs up off the bed and resting them over his shoulders. You watched, enraptured, as he lay prone in front of you and met your eyes one more time before pressing a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh.

Shivers rolled down your spine, and you shook in response to what would be the most innocent of touches from this point on. Spencer seemed encouraged by the heavy heave of your chest, and he taunted you with breathy sighs hitting your folds.

His breath was hot, but it still inspired your body to shake as if freezing. He studied you in an almost delirious state of bliss as he controlled you with just his breath, before slowly licking a devilish stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue like the sweetest summer dessert.

A pained moan escaped your throat, wholly miserable with how much he seemed to be holding back. You did your best to avoid clamping down on his head too harshly, but you couldn’t help the instinct you felt to pull him closer.

Then, he finally dove in. His tongue worked expertly — dragging and pressing and pulling around your bundle of nerves, and even circling your entrance. The lewd sounds coming from his mouth sparked your own in response, and soon you had your own debaucherous melody echoing in his bedroom.

He flattened his tongue, pressed it against your clit, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, giving himself leverage to apply the pressure to your most sensitive spot that he could tell you were desperate for.

You felt his tongue flip and twirl around you, drinking in your essence as if he hadn’t already gorged himself on a feast of yours tonight. Dipping a little lower, his muscle plunged inside of you, inspiring an entirely different kind of pressure that tightened your core and commanded your body off the bed.

Moving his tongue back up to your clit, he lapped at it as he began edging a finger into you, causing you to grip his duvet in a misguided attempt to relieve the incredible tension building in your stomach.

“S-spencer,” You choked out, doing your best to keep your eyes open as the sight in front of you was one of angelic beauty — Spencer’s hair was completely disheveled, and although the room was only lit by moonlight, you could see the wild gaze his eyes held as he worked so hard to please you. You let out a feather-light moan.

But all you got in response was his dark eyes, filled with a fervor that you’d never seen from Spencer before. You laced your fingers in his hair just as he pushed his finger inside you, eliciting a new, loud groan from your chest.

Latching onto your nub, Spencer rolled his tongue over it with gentle suction in tandem with fast, shallow thrusts of his finger. He moaned against you, sending ripples of stimulation through your body, radiating from his mouth. He watched you the entire time, eyes trained on your face as it scrunched up in pleasure.

He feasted on you, and for the second time tonight, you relished in the fact that you had nourished Spencer so graciously.

With a tug of his hair, you finally felt the tension in your stomach snap. A string of moans bounced off the walls of his bedroom, but Spencer didn’t give in to distraction. He pulled off of you only slightly with a deep inhale but kept his finger moving to fuck you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” He cooed, bringing his other hand up to splay against your stomach, feeling the muscles spasming beneath his palm in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you.

He slowed his finger as your pleasure faded; the tension leaving your abdomen and a look of bliss covering your face, signaling your comedown. He withdrew his finger slowly before resuming his towering position over you, peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses.

Once some sense had returned to your endorphin-flooded brain, your hands roamed over the span of Spencer’s back. You resumed the choreography that neither of you had practiced, even though it felt so natural to you. Your lips found his once more, and eagerness leaked from his saliva as it mixed with the taste of you on his tongue. A low, rumbling moan echoed into your mouth as he gripped your waist and the nape of your neck roughly.

Your hearts were back up to racing, and you tugged at the tight waistband of Spencer’s boxers.

“Please,” Spencer spoke into your mouth, barely disconnecting your lips as he begged. “Please, let me fuck you.”

If the praise wasn’t enough to win you over, the absolutely distraught look on his face would’ve done the job. One part of you couldn’t believe that Spencer could be so commanding and servile at the same time, while another part of you knew this must be the purest form of Spencer that anyone had ever seen before. Apart from his previous partners, you felt as if you were the only observer of him in such a state of subservience. He felt totally and uniquely seen by you, and that’s all he ever wanted.

You nodded and mewled at his request, harshly removing his last remaining barrier before wrapping your legs around his waist. Your movements brought his dick closer to your heat, and you couldn’t hold back the tremors that overwhelmed your senses at the sensation. Kissing you once more, Spencer aligned himself at your entrance, mimicking the shivering of your body on such a hot summer night.

He pushed into you at a listless pace, wanting to give you all the time and space to get comfortable around him despite the instincts that begged him to act faster. His finger had done little to prepare you for his true size, and although you gasped sharply at the intrusion, your body was quick to relax and pull him further inside you.

You shared moans and whimpers on the slow endeavor, kissing each other wherever available — cheek, arm, neck, chest — until he was fully flush with your body.

“Thank you,” Spencer breathed out, so softly that you almost missed it. “Thank you, thank you,” He kept worshiping as you felt his hips stutter and his cock twitch inside you. The size of him, his breath on your neck, and the everpresent smell of sex all tethered together in your mind at once, sparking an almost insatiable desire to demand that he move. You knew the worship was all a part of his plan to repay you for the barbeque, but you echoed the sentiment back nonetheless in favor of a less sweet command.

But Spencer was no stranger to that desire. With gratitude filling the room, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and he began rocking into you just enough to pull moans from your lips. He caged his arms around your head, wrapping one palm around the back of your neck to hold you in place, while the other found itself upon your cheek once again. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching as you moved against and around him with a delicious tightness.

He quickened his pace and relished in the way the pleasure presented upon your face. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hung open in a string of moans. He mirrored your expressions, his bottom lip jutted out from his face, brushing yours with each harsh thrust forward. The pressure of him inside you was already swelling the knot in your stomach, and the stimulation melted all fatigue from the day away from your muscles.

Clawing at his back and arms, you opened your eyes to find him once more. The hand on your neck kept your gaze steady despite his rough movements that threatened your composure. There was a charm, a tenderness that you’d felt lingering between you two all night—hell, ever since your first day. From the moment you introduced yourself in the dawn of summer, to the moment he dropped to his knees and begged for you, an intensity magnetized the two of you together.

Before you could get too lost in the beautiful thoughts of your attraction, Spencer adjusted the angle of your hips, reaching even deeper into you. You couldn’t hold back the scream that left your body, and you felt yourself tighten around him as he drove into you at an incredible rate.

Spencer was already close — you could tell by the way whimpers fell over your neck with his every thrust, and he blinked rapidly as if it would stave off his impending release. He called your name as a warning, implicitly asking for your guidance.

Now, it was your turn to beg.

“Please,” You pled, eyes half-lidded yet glued to Spencers. “Please, come inside me.”

He could barely hold back after your words, his hips even faltering for a moment. But he kept his pace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly as your release teetered on the edge of his relentless pace.

“Fuck,” You felt Spencer groan into your hair as his hips slammed flush with yours. Warmth flooded inside you, and the sensation triggered your release soon after. Both of you clung to each other, panting and brainless with bliss, as Spencer slowly continued to fuck you through your climaxes.

As the tension and heat dissipated over your body, you and Spencer reluctantly pulled away from each other. It was the first time since you’d arrived at his apartment that either one of you had given into distance. He was gentle with the motions, watching the way your body shook with each rogue wave of pleasure as he pulled out of you.

When he was fully removed, though, you found yourself alone, laid out across his bed. As the heaving in your chest subsided, Spencer returned with a towel, cleaning you up with the utmost tenderness.

“Here, I can help,” You peeled your upper body from his duvet despite all the resistance in your overexerted muscles, reaching for the cloth only for Spencer to catch your hand before you could make it.

“I’m still serving you, okay? Lay down,” He chuckled at your attempt, finishing up with the towel and discarding it back in his bathroom. When he returned, he continued to refuse your help, pulling the duvet out from under you to tuck you in.

He joined you on the other side of the bed, brushing hair from your face as he settled under the comforter too. You laid facing each other, eyes grazing over each other's bodies in a much more romantic sense than you two had a few moments prior.

“Why did you do all that?” You posed the question quietly, watching his face intently for a reaction. Although anxiety may not be the best word for it, you did feel a bit unsure about what this night meant for your relationship. Was this a summer fling, a coworker crush, or something more real? Something that would permeate the seasons or something that you’d recall late at night in future solitude?

“Well, for one, because I like you,” Spencer said, laughing slightly through the ends of a few words. “But also because of all you did for us tonight. You worked so hard and you deserved to be spoiled too.”

The praise again brought a flush to your cheeks, and you looked away as you tried not to discount the way Spencer was feeling. Even if you were unsure of your deserving of praise, you had to admit it felt nice to be adored by Spencer, and it felt good to know that this meant more to him than something casual.

Despite the summer heat, you found yourself fully engulfed in his embrace. The cicadas’ chorus began to lull sleep into your heavy eyes, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go and close your eyes, which would mean missing out on Spencer’s reverent gaze.

“I like you too,” You finally spoke up, finding his hand in the darkness of his bedroom, and lacing your fingers together. “Thank you for spoiling me.”

“Hey—no more ‘thank yous.’ You deserved it,” Spencer replied, placing a kiss on your knuckles before shuffling further into the bed. You turned over, relaxing into Spencer’s warm body as his arm wound around your stomach, still holding your hand.

Summer heat can be more comforting than once thought, after all.

♡  ♡  ♡

thank you for reading! 💗

[selineram3421]

*sweats nervously* Haha...I'm in danger.

Spell Gone Wrong

Part 1- Opposites

Alastor X Reader

Alastor is trying a new spell but it's not right and something goes wrong.

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ possessive alastor, implied/suggestive, 2p Alastor, Italics=thoughts, 😳 , food mention-fruit salad, kisses, cussing. ⚠

You stared in shock at Alastor.

Two Alastors.

Somehow, he managed to duplicate himself but something went wrong and now...there was a blue Alastor that was the complete opposite of your fiancé standing in your shared home.

It was very dizzying and you had to sit down on a nearby chair.

"Holy shit.", you mumbled and held your head.

"Not really dear, he's still a demon.", Alastor said and tugged on the blue deer's ear.

"Ow!", blue Alastor whined and teared up.

"Alastor..", you sighed with a disappointed tone.

"Yes?", they both replied.

He just technically called himself shit.

With a groan you stood up from the couch and walked over to the two deer demons.

"Ok, red Alastor will be called Alastor. Blue Alastor will be called Al.", you said pointing at them.

"Not very creative.", Alastor commented.

"I don't care. Its easy.", you crossed your arms. "Now that that's taken care of, where is he gonna stay? He can have the room next to yours or he can stay in the room next to mine."

"I'd like-"

"You'll be staying near mine.", Alastor cut Al off. "I'll make sure to take good care of you.", he said with a wide sinister smile.

Then you jabbed Alastor in the chest with your finger.

"No, bad. No ulterior motives.", you squinted your eyes at the red deer.

"I-It's fine! I don't mind..", Al piped in and muttered the rest, looking away when you and Alastor turned to look at him.

You're a little unsure but agree, watching as your Alastor guides the blue deer down the hall and to the guest room across from his office. After listening in for any fighting and hearing nothing alarming, you go to the kitchen to prepare a snack for yourself and the boys.

From what you've observed, Al is the opposite of Alastor. They have some similar actions, like the way they adjust their monocles or bow ties, but you're not sure what Al likes to eat for snacks.

In the end, you decide to set up a little bit of everything on a plate and pick it up before making your way over to the guest room.

Opening the door, you find Alastor pointing out where everything is in the room for Al and the blue deer is nodding along until he sees you at the door with the plate of snacks.

"Um.."

You smile and go set the plate on the nightstand. "I didn't know what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything. Is that ok?", you say.

Al nods and shyly steps closer to take your hand. "More than ok.", he mumbles before placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

In a second you're pulled away by the waist and pressed against Alastor's chest.

"It seems our guest is too comfortable around you my dear.", the red deer growls out and lifts up your hand that was kissed. "I can't have anyone touch you in such a way, not even my opposite.", he wipes at the spot before kissing it himself.

"Alastor, you're being silly.", you laugh. "He's just being a gentleman."

"That's not fair.", Al speaks up in a whine.

You look at the blue deer in shock. Seeing him pout at not being able to show you affection.

"A what-?"

"Shouldn't I be able to kiss and hold them too? I am you, just on the other side of the scale.", Al argues. "I might be able to give them more than what you offer.", he walks over and presses his chest against yours. "I bet I can make them scream too."

Your face is flushed.

Being trapped between two tall, devilishly handsome deer demons, one being your fiance and the other his opposite self, it really does things.

"Oh please, I'm sure you can barely satisfy them if you tried.", Alastor glares at the blue deer. "You'll never get to anyway."

"Uh, boys?", you say and try to get out from between the two.

"Be careful then.", Al smirks. "I might just steal them."

"Guys?", you try again.

"Try and you'll see that it will be a futile attempt.", your fiance says, eyes turning into radio dials, static going around the room.

You squeak in surprise when feeling Al lift up your leg, hooking it around his hip. It's too much and you feel yourself overheat, causing you to push the two away and run out of the room.

The two call out your name but you ignore them and lock yourself in your bedroom.

"I'm not coming out until both of you learn how to behave!", you yell towards the door before turning to the bed and flopping down on it, grabbing a pillow to scream into.

The rest of the day you are in your room, refusing entry from both deers, still upset at their earlier actions. Hours pass, it's been quiet for a while now and you feel your stomach growl for food, not having been fed other than the bowl of fruit salad you had this morning.

Maybe I can get something before bed. You think as you stand up.

You're still a bit cautious but you are hungry, so you open the door and glance around, not seeing any of the deers in the vicinity of your room. Taking a step out, you close the door behind you and make your way towards the kitchen, feeling your shoulders relax as you find a plate of food out for you.

A note with your name on it sits next to the plate with a little heart drawn at the end, which makes you smile.

You heat up the food and eat, taking your time to enjoy it before standing and cleaning up, then heading back to your room. As you take a step back into your room, you see Alastor standing near the window.

He turns when hearing you enter.

"Evening darling.", he smiles softly and holds a hand out for you.

A little suspicious, you walk slowly towards your fiance and take his hand, now standing in front of him.

"I apologize about earlier. I was..ahem! A bit out of character.", your deer says and holds you close. "I do hope you forgive me."

You smile and shake your head, moving your arms to wrap around his neck and placing a kiss on his cheek. "My silly Radio Demon, you don't have to be sorry. It just shows how much you love me, even fighting over me with your opposite self."

"I've found a way to get rid of him but he's insistent on seeing you one last time before leaving.", Alastor huffs in slight annoyance.

"Just be nice and let him?", you ask, moving your hands to fix his suit.

"Fine."

You both meet Al in the living room and Alastor sets things up to send the blue deer back to wherever he came from.

"Though it was a surprise, it was nice having you here.", you tell Al and shake his hand. "If there is another me where you are from, well..they might like how forward you are.", and then you squeeze his hand, making the blue deer whimper. "Don't try that with me again."

"Mhm..", Al nods and rubs his hand after you let him go.

"There!", Alastor says after drawing the spell circle with chalk on the floor. "That should do the trick."

Alastor moves to stand by your side, activating the spell with a flick of his hand and the circle lights up with a green glow.

"Safe travels! Don't come back.", the red deer smiles as his opposite starts to fade away.

Then something happens catching both you and your fiance by surprise.

Al leans forward and kisses you right on the lips before leaning back into the spell circle with a smug grin. "I had fun.", the deer says before waving. "Bye."

And then he's gone in an instant.

You are then twirled to face Alastor, who's eye is twitching in annoyance and he slams his lip to yours, kissing you deeply and even going as far as to do french.

"Mm!", you hold onto his shoulders to stay upright, stumbling back slightly as he moves both of you to the couch.

He presses you down onto the cushions, momentarily breaking the kiss to take a breath before saying in a growl, "Fucking deer.", before going back to lock your lips together.

You...well, you were able to sleep at least.

So...yeah. Hope you enjoyed.

~Seline, the person.

→Next: Part 2

Taglist@

@+in the comments+

ML II Alastor🎙 | SGW ChL✨

[23victoria]

Father’s Day!!

f1 grid x reader

warnings: just fluff

authors note: today is Father’s Day so want to do something with the grid!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

Max

It's Father's Day, and you're determined to make it special for Max. The morning sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains as you gently wake up your little one, Oliver. You both tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen, where you've prepared a simple but heartfelt breakfast: Max's favorite pancakes, fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Oliver insists on carrying the tray, wobbling slightly but managing to keep everything balanced. You lead the way, quietly pushing open the bedroom door. Max is still asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. Oliver climbs onto the bed, and you can't help but smile as he places a messy kiss on Max's cheek.

"Daddy, wake up! Happy Father's Day!" Oliver's excitement is infectious, and Max stirs, a smile spreading across his face as he opens his eyes.

"Good morning, my babies," Max says, pulling Oliver into a hug and then reaching for you. "This is the best way to wake up."

After breakfast, you all head to the living room, where Oliver presents Max with a hand-painted picture. It's a portrait of your family, with a rainbow in the background and everyone holding hands. Max's eyes mist over as he looks at the painting, his heart swelling with love and pride.

"This is amazing, Oliver. Thank you so much," he says, kissing the top of his son's head. "And thank you, love, for making today so special."

The rest of the day is filled with laughter and joy. You all head to the park, where Max and Oliver play soccer while you watch, capturing every moment on your phone. In the afternoon, you return home for a barbecue, with Oliver helping to flip burgers and Max manning the grill.

As the sun sets, you all snuggle up on the couch to watch Max's favorite movie. Oliver falls asleep in Max's arms, and you rest your head on Max's shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"I couldn't have asked for a better Father's Day," Max whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much."

Lewis

Father's Day morning comes gently, the sun's rays filtering through the curtains as you and your daughter, Amara, lie in bed, savoring the rare opportunity to sleep in. Last night had been a marathon movie night, with the three of you snuggled on the couch, laughing and enjoying each other's company until the wee hours. As the morning progresses, you and Amara tiptoe out of the bedroom, leaving Lewis to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

In the kitchen, you and Amara prepare a light and easy vegan lunch. The menu includes a vibrant quinoa salad with roasted vegetables, a fresh avocado and tomato sandwich, and a chilled fruit smoothie. Amara is excited, and you guide her hands as she slices veggies and blends the smoothie.

As the meal comes together, you set a tray with the food and a small vase holding a single flower that Amara picked from the garden. Together, you quietly walk back to the bedroom, the tray balanced carefully in your hands. Amara climbs onto the bed first, gently shaking Lewis's shoulder.

"Daddy, wake up! We've got a surprise for you!" she says, her voice filled with excitement.

Lewis stirs, opening his eyes to see Amara’s bright smile and your loving gaze. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and grins as he sees the tray.

"Good morning, my beautiful girls," he says, pulling Amara into a hug and giving you a warm kiss. "This is an amazing way to wake up."

After savoring the delicious lunch, you and Amara present Lewis with his special gift. Amara hands him a small, wrapped box, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Lewis opens it to find a handcrafted bracelet, ring, and necklace, each piece intricately designed with tiny charms and beads that the two of you had spent weeks working on together.

"Wow, Amara, these are incredible," Lewis says, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you so much, sweetheart. And thank you, love, for helping her. These are truly special."

Amara beams with pride as Lewis puts on the bracelet and necklace, sliding the ring onto his finger. The rest of the day is spent in relaxed joy. You all lounge around the house, playing board games and sharing stories. In the afternoon, you take a walk in the park, where Lewis and Amara race each other along the path, their laughter echoing through the trees.

As evening falls, you all return home and cuddle up on the couch once more, this time to watch the sunset through the living room window. Amara eventually falls asleep in Lewis's arms, and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," Lewis whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much. Thank you for making today unforgettable."

Charles

Father's Day morning begins with the sun gently illuminating your bedroom. You and your son, Lucas, had stayed up late the night before, giggling and making final preparations for Charles's special day. After catching a bit of extra sleep, you both decide to let Charles rest while you head to the kitchen to prepare his favorite breakfast: croissants, fresh fruit, and a strong espresso.

Lucas, eager to help, assists in arranging the food on a tray. You add a small vase with a single rose, a simple yet thoughtful touch. Together, you carry the tray to the bedroom, where Charles is still in a peaceful slumber. Lucas carefully climbs onto the bed, placing a soft kiss on his father's cheek.

"Happy Father's Day, Papa!" Lucas exclaims, his voice filled with excitement.

Charles stirs, opening his eyes to see Lucas's beaming face and your loving smile. He sits up, reaching out to pull Lucas into a warm hug and giving you a tender kiss.

"Good morning, my loves," Charles says, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "This is the best way to wake up."

After enjoying the delicious breakfast, Lucas announces that he has another surprise for Charles. He dashes out of the room and returns with a beautifully wrapped gift. Charles's curiosity is piqued as he carefully unwraps the present.

Inside, he finds a custom-made photo album. Each page is filled with pictures of the most cherished moments you've shared as a family: vacations, birthdays, holidays, and candid snapshots of everyday life. Lucas had painstakingly decorated the pages with stickers, drawings, and little notes, each one a testament to his love and creativity.

Charles's eyes well up with tears as he flips through the pages, reliving the memories. "Lucas, this is amazing. Thank you so much, my little artist. And thank you, love, for helping him put this together. It's perfect."

Lucas beams with pride, and you wrap your arms around both of them, feeling a wave of love and happiness. The rest of the day is filled with joyful activities. You take a family trip to the zoo, where Charles and Lucas marvel at the animals and share ice cream cones. In the afternoon, you return home for a barbecue, with Lucas eagerly helping to flip the burgers while Charles mans the grill.

As the sun sets, you all snuggle up on the couch to watch Charles's favorite movie. Lucas falls asleep in Charles's arms, and you rest your head on Charles's shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"I couldn't have asked for a better Father's Day," Charles whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you both so much."

Carlos

It's Father's Day, and you and your daughter, Sofia, have been planning a special surprise for Carlos for weeks. The morning starts with you both sneaking into the kitchen to prepare Carlos's favorite Spanish breakfast: churros with hot chocolate.

Sofia climbs onto the bed and places a kiss on Carlos's cheek. "Happy Father's Day, Papa!" she exclaims, her excitement waking Carlos with a start. He blinks a few times before his eyes focus on the two of you.

"Good morning, mi princesa," he says, pulling Sofia into a hug and reaching out to you. "This is the best surprise."

Sofia announces she has another surprise for her papa. Sofia dashes out of the room, returning with a large, colorfully wrapped box. Carlos, his curiosity piqued, smiles as he accepts the gift from his beaming daughter.

"Open it, Papa! I made it just for you!" Sofia exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement.

Carlos carefully unwraps the gift, revealing a beautifully handcrafted model of his race car. The model is made from wood, meticulously painted in his team's colors, with fine details that capture the essence of his real car. Sofia had spent weeks working on it, sanding and painting each piece with your help.

Carlos’s eyes widen in amazement as he examines the intricate model. "Sofia, this is incredible! You made this all by yourself?"

Sofia nods eagerly. "Well, Mommy helped a little, but I did most of it. Do you like it?"

"I love it," Carlos says, his voice filled with emotion. He pulls Sofia into a tight hug. "This is one of the best gifts I've ever received. Thank you, my little artist."

The rest of the day is spent in high spirits. You all head out to the park for a fun-filled day of activities. Carlos and Sofia race their remote-controlled cars, laughing and cheering as they navigate through makeshift tracks. Later, you enjoy a picnic under the shade of a large oak tree, savoring the simple pleasures of being together.

You rest your head on Carlos's shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Carlos looks at you with love and gratitude in his eyes.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," he whispers, kissing your forehead. "Thank you for making it so special. I love you both so much."

Lando

Father's Day morning starts with you and your son, Theo, preparing a fun and easy breakfast for Lando: banana pancakes with maple syrup and a side of fresh berries. After breakfast in bed, Theo excitedly announces he has a special surprise for Lando.

Theo runs out of the room and returns with a small, neatly wrapped box. Lando's eyes light up as he takes the gift from Theo's eager hands.

"Daddy, open it! I made it just for you! But mommy help me as well!!" Theo exclaims, his excitement palpable.

Lando carefully unwraps the gift to reveal a handmade keychain. The keychain is crafted from colorful beads and charms, spelling out "Best Dad" along with tiny race car and helmet charms. Theo had put his heart into making it, with your help guiding his little hands.

"This is awesome, Theo! I love it," Lando says, his voice full of warmth. He pulls Theo into a hug. "Thank you, buddy. I'll keep this with me always."

The rest of the day is filled with activities at Lando's favorite amusement park, where he and Theo ride all the roller coasters and enjoy the day to its fullest. Back home, you all enjoy a cozy movie night, snuggled up together, cherishing every moment.

Oscar

Father's Day morning begins with you and your daughter, Ava, preparing a simple but delicious brunch for Oscar: an egg omelette with spinach bell peppers onions and bacon with waffles and some turkey sandwiches cut into half’s with a fresh fruit smoothie. After the brunch, Ava eagerly announces her special surprise for her daddy.

Ava rushes out of the room and returns with a beautifully decorated scrapbook. Oscar's curiosity is piqued as he accepts the gift from his daughter’s proud hands.

"Daddy, we made this for you!" Ava says, her eyes sparkling.

Oscar opens the scrapbook to find it filled with drawings, photos, and little notes. Each page captures special moments they've shared: trips to the beach, family game nights, and candid snapshots of daily life. Ava had worked tirelessly on it, with your help organizing the pages.

"This is amazing, Ava. I love it," Oscar says, his voice filled with emotion. He pulls Ava into a hug. "Thank you so much, sweetheart. This is a treasure."

The day continues with a visit to a botanical garden, where Oscar and Ava explore the vibrant plants and flowers and even go into the butterfly garden. After that you guys go to a nice restaurant for dinner and go home ending the day with a lots of cuddles.

Sebastian

Father's Day starts with you and your son, Max, preparing a nice breakfast for him: honey and cinnamon pancakes with eggs, turkey bacon and fresh fruit. After enjoying the meal in together, Max reveals his special surprise for his papa.

Max runs to his room and returns with a large, carefully wrapped package. Seb's eyes twinkle with anticipation as he accepts the gift from Max’s excited hands.

"Papa, open it! I made it for you!" Max exclaims, his excitement evident.

Sebastian unwraps the package to reveal a handmade birdhouse. The birdhouse is painted in bright colors and adorned with tiny flowers and leaves. Max had spent countless afternoons working on it, with your guidance and support.

"This is wonderful, Max! I love it," Sebastian says, his voice brimming with pride. He pulls Max into a warm hug. "Thank you, my little craftsman. We'll put this in the garden together."

The rest of the day is spent outdoors, visiting a local farm and feeding the animals. Back home, they set up the birdhouse in the garden, watching for birds to come. The day concludes with a cozy evening watching The Incredibles 2, Max falling asleep in Seb's arms.

Jenson Button

Father's Day morning begins with the sun shining through the curtains and the soft sound of paws padding around the house. You and your two kids, Lily and Jake, are up early, ready to surprise Jenson with a day filled with love, laughter, and a few surprises from the whole family, including the dogs.

First, you all head to the kitchen to prepare a hearty English breakfast: baked beans, toast, and a selection of fresh fruits. The dogs, Storm, Rogue and Bentley, are excitedly wagging their tails, sensing the fun to come. You prepare a special dog-friendly treat for them to deliver to Jenson as well.

Once breakfast is ready, you and the kids carry the trays up to the bedroom, with Storm, Rogue and Bentley following closely, each with a small, wrapped gift tied to their collars. Lily and Jake eagerly climb onto the bed, placing kisses on Jenson's cheeks to wake him up.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" they exclaim in unison.

Jenson groggily opens his eyes, a smile spreading across his face as he sees his excited kids and the delicious breakfast laid out before him. "Good morning, my little loves. This is the best wake-up call."

As he sits up, Storm, Rogue and Bentley jump onto the bed, tails wagging furiously. Jenson laughs as he notices the gifts tied to their collars.

"Looks like even the dogs have something for you, Daddy!" Jake says, grinning.

Jenson unties the first gift from Storm collar. Inside, he finds a personalized mug with "World's Best Dad" written on it and a picture of Jenson with Storm, Rogue and Bentley. "This is fantastic! Thank you, Storm," he says, patting the dog's head.

Next, he opens the gift from Rogue collar. It's a new set of golf balls with "Best Dad" engraved on each one. "Wow, Rogue, you know me so well," Jenson laughs, scratching Rogue behind the ears.

Jenson unties a gift from Bentley's collar. Inside, he finds sunglasses with "JB" engraved on it. Jenson smiles and gives Bentley a big hug. "Thank you, Bentley. This is so nice."

"Now for our gifts!" Lily says, handing Jenson a brightly wrapped package. Inside, Jenson finds a handmade photo frame decorated with seashells, featuring a picture of the whole family from their last beach vacation.

"This is beautiful, Lily. Thank you so much," Jenson says, giving her a big hug.

Jake hands over his gift next, a Lego set to build The Millennium Falcon. "We can build it together, Dad!" Jake says, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Awesome, Jake. I can't wait to get started on this," Jenson says, pulling Jake into a hug.

The rest of the day is filled with fun and adventure. You all head to the nearby park with the dogs, where Jenson and the kids play catch, run around, and even try their hands at flying a kite. Roscoe and Coco have the time of their lives chasing after the frisbee and each other.

In the afternoon, you return home to make a special dinner together. You gather in the kitchen, setting up a pizza-making station with various ingredients. Each of you gets a dough base to create your own unique pizza.

Lily goes for a classic margherita with lots of cheese, Jake opts for a pepperoni and olive combo, Jenson decides on a prosciutto and arugula pizza, and you make a buffalo chicken masterpiece. Storm, Rogue and Bentley are given their own special dog-friendly pizzas, which they eagerly gobble up.

As the pizzas bake, the kitchen fills with delicious aromas. You all sit around the table, enjoying your creations and sharing stories. The evening is filled with laughter, as you recount the day's adventures and enjoy the warmth of being together as a family.

After dinner, you all snuggle up on the couch with the dogs, watching one of Jenson's favorite movies. Lily and Jake eventually fall asleep, and Roscoe and Coco curl up at their feet. You lean against Jenson, feeling content and happy.

"This has been the perfect Father's Day," Jenson whispers, kissing your forehead. "I love you all so much. Thank you for making today unforgettable."

Daniel

Father's Day morning begins with a mischievous plan you and your son, Jack, concoct to wake Daniel up in a way he'll never forget. The two of you tiptoe around the house, preparing for the grand surprise. You and Jack decide that a good old-fashioned prank will be the perfect way to start the day.

You both set up downstairs, positioning yourselves in the kitchen with a delicious vegan lunch waiting to be served. On the count of three, you and Jack begin to scream and shout, creating a cacophony of pretend chaos.

"Dad! Help! There's a huge mess!" you yell, adding to the commotion.

From upstairs, you hear the sound of Daniel springing out of bed and rushing down the stairs. He bursts into the kitchen, his hair tousled and eyes wide with concern.

"What's going on? Is everyone okay?" Daniel exclaims, looking around frantically.

You and Jack burst into laughter, unable to keep up the act any longer. Daniel's confusion quickly turns to a smile as he realizes he's been pranked.

"Happy Father's Day!" you both shout, grinning widely.

Daniel shakes his head, chuckling. "You got me good! Whose idea was this?"

You and Jack exchange glances and remain silent, trying to stifle your laughter. Daniel raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh, so you're not going to tell me, huh?" he says, moving towards you both with a mischievous grin. "Well, I guess I'll have to get the truth out another way."

With that, Daniel starts chasing you around the house. Jack squeals and runs, but Daniel quickly catches him, lifting him up and starting to tickle him mercilessly.

"No, Mom! Save me from the tickle monster!" Jack cries out between fits of laughter.

You stand back, laughing as you watch the two of them. Daniel’s infectious laughter fills the room as Jack squirms and giggles uncontrollably.

"Alright, alright! I surrender!" Jack finally manages to say, still giggling as Daniel relents.

As things settle down, you guide Daniel to the dining table where the surprise lunch is laid out: a colorful spread of avocado toast, quinoa salad, and fresh fruit smoothies.

"Happy Father's Day, love," you say, kissing Daniel on the cheek. "We thought you deserved a fun wake-up call."

Daniel smiles, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a hug. "You two are the best. This is perfect."

The rest of the day is filled with laughter and love. You spend the afternoon playing games in the garden, enjoying the beautiful weather and each other's company. In the evening, you all snuggle up on the couch for a cozy movie night, feeling grateful for the special moments shared together.

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[hopeyoufindalovelikethis]

Hello! Thank you for your support so far. I started this blog and chose to write a soft love because I’ve come to believe that real love isn’t something that appears overnight — it’s something built over time, through shared moments, quiet growth, and weathering life’s ups and downs together. If my writing can bring comfort or even inspire someone to hold out for a love that’s steady and true, then that’s more than I could ever ask for.

Synopsis | The morning after your first time (Part 2) — Sylus and his selfless love. His loving eyes seek out your every need and he quietly provides, as if caring for you is the most natural thing in the world, from tending to your bath to preparing your breakfast.

The bed was warm, and the silence between you and Sylus was filled with a sense of easy understanding, the kind that only came from truly knowing each other. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if to make sure you felt the full weight of his care. His fingers gently stroked your arm, tracing slow patterns over your skin.

"So, sweetheart," Sylus’s voice was soft but steady, his tone laced with warmth. "What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you. Anything you need, you don’t have to worry about a thing."

You thought for a moment, the idea of food suddenly making you realize how hungry you were.

"Hmm… A salad," you said quietly, your smile soft. "Something light?"

But then it hit you. This house of his — his hideout — rarely saw fresh food. It wasn’t a place he’d stay in long enough to keep anything stocked. You shifted a bit, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

"I forgot. There’s probably nothing in the fridge."

Sylus chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.

"You don’t have to worry about that, kitten."

His hands, always so capable, cupped your face for a moment, his touch soft and reassuring.

"I’m not going to leave you alone while I go to the store, instead...," he said with a low voice, his eyes glinted with a quiet confidence. "I’ll call Luke. He’ll take care of it. You relax."

You felt a wave of gratitude for how effortlessly he took control of the situation. You hadn’t even realized how much you needed someone to handle things for you, to make you feel secure in the midst of the chaos.

Sylus grabbed his phone and dialed quickly. His voice was calm and commanding as he spoke to his right-hand man.

"Luke, I need you to get some groceries for a salad. The fridge here is empty. Fresh produce." Sylus added, his tone firm.

Luke’s voice came through the phone, teasing as always, but there was respect in it. "Sure thing, bossman. You got it. I’ll bring back something good."

Sylus’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile as he hung up the phone. He turned back to you, his attention never wavering.

"There. It’s taken care of."

He settled back into bed beside you, his expression softening as he reached for you once more. His touch was light, but his eyes were full of that quiet determination to make sure you were alright.

"So," he said, his voice low as he shifted closer to you, his body radiating warmth. "How are you feeling now, sweetheart? Your body okay? Still sore?"

You paused for a moment, feeling the lingering tenderness from the night before. But even the discomfort felt like a distant thought in his presence, the security of his care easing your mind.

"I’m okay," you whispered, your fingers brushing over his chest. "Just a little sore. But it’s not bad."

Without a word, he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from any remaining discomfort.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, his voice a low murmur, "You’re perfect." His hands smoothing over your back as he said quietly, "I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing."

There was something so soothing in the way he spoke to you, something that made you feel completely safe, completely understood. With Sylus, there was no need for you to say anything more. He already knew what you needed.

"You’re not alone, sweetheart," he added, his voice gentle but steady. "Not now. Not ever."

The air was thick with the quiet rhythm of Sylus’s breathing, as his chest rose and fell beneath your touch. There was something so calming about these moments — the weight of his affection, the way he made you feel safe, like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

Then, you could hear the faint sound of Luke and Kieran’s banter in the background, their teasing over the phone barely a distraction as the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Sylus shifted slightly, his fingers gently lifting your chin as he caught your gaze, his red eyes darkened with emotion.

"You look like you’re still thinking about something, sweetheart," he sounds worried.

You gave a small shake of your head, not sure how to explain the swirl of emotions that had settled in your chest, all you can said is:

"I’m just... happy. Grateful."

Sylus’s lips curved into a soft smile, one full of tenderness and understanding, as if he could hear the unspoken words you couldn’t quite find. His thumb brushed over your cheek, a gesture so simple yet full of meaning.

"Good," he murmured, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "You deserve to be happy. Don’t let anything make you feel otherwise."

The quiet strength in his voice wrapped around you, soothing your heart, and you felt a flutter of something deep inside you. His closeness, his affection — it all felt like something out of a dream.

Before you could say anything more, there was a faint knock at the door, and Sylus’s expression shifted just slightly, his protective nature taking over.

"That’ll be Luke," he said, his voice calm, but there was a certain undertone of command in it. "I’ll be right back. Stay here."

You nodded, your heart still a little fluttery from the intimacy that surrounded you. Sylus gave you one last lingering kiss on the forehead before he stood, his form still radiating that unspoken confidence. He moved to the door and opened it just a crack, speaking to Luke outside in quiet, efficient tones.

Luke’s voice filtered through the door, teasing as always. "Boss, got your groceries. We good to go?"

"I’ll take care of it," Sylus said, his voice lowering. But there was something in his tone that made Luke fall silent for a moment — just before you heard the door close.

As Sylus stepped away from the door, he turned back to you while holding the grocery bag.

"Luke’s got everything. I’ll make the salad that you want. Just relax, sweetheart,” he said and gazed down at you with a mix of affection and admiration.

You watched as he moved towards the kitchen, his tall frame effortlessly gliding through the space. Despite being a man who had a reputation for ruthlessness, there was something so domestic, almost tender, about how he moved in this environment — his movements deliberate, his posture relaxed, but there was still that silent intensity to him.

The sounds of chopping and rustling came from the kitchen, and you found yourself listening to the rhythm of it, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. You couldn’t help but smile as you imagined him, always in control, always so capable, taking the time to prepare something as simple as a salad just for you.

When he returned, it wasn’t just the salad he brought. It was a small tray, with a glass of fresh juice beside the neatly arranged bowl of crisp, vibrant greens. His expression was soft as he placed it on the nightstand beside you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment.

"Here you go, sweetheart," he said, his voice deep and smooth, though there was a softness to it that made your heart flutter. "I don’t know if it’s exactly what you had in mind, but it’s fresh. Everything you need for a light meal."

You took in the sight of the salad — the mix of fresh vegetables, the vibrant colors of the greens, the slices of perfectly ripened fruit. The attention to detail in how he’d prepared it was almost endearing, as though he had put as much care into the salad as he did in everything else he did for you. Even in something as small as this, Sylus showed his love, his commitment.

"It’s perfect," you whispered, the words feeling so much more significant than just the food itself.

Sylus’s expression softened, and he leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to the top of your head before stepping back, watching you with that familiar protective gaze.

"You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice warm and full of adoration. "Now, eat up, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere."

You smiled up at him, reaching for the bowl of salad and lifting it to your lips. The crunch of the fresh vegetables and the sweetness of the fruit were just what you needed — light, refreshing, and comforting all at once. It wasn’t just the food that brought you comfort, though. It was the quiet, intimate moment with him — the way he cared for you, always so present, always thinking about your needs.

As you finished the first bite, Sylus sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on the bedspread as he watched you with that same protective intensity.

"Is it good?" he asked, his eyes softening when you nodded.

"It’s perfect," you repeated, this time meaning it even more.

There was no rush, no urgency, just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet peace of the moment. Sylus, ever the protector, ever the provider, made sure you had everything you needed — even something as simple as a salad.

You took another bite of your salad, savoring the fresh flavors, but your gaze never left Sylus. He was sitting there beside you, watching you with a warmth in his eyes, as though you were the most important thing in the room. His gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

"Are you planning to feed me, kitten?" Sylus asked with a teasing glint in his ruby-red eyes, leaning slightly closer to you. His voice was low, a hint of amusement laced with affection.

You couldn’t help but smile at his playful tone, but something inside you urged you to act on the quiet intimacy that had grown between you two. You took a small piece of salad from the bowl, your fingers carefully selecting a leaf, and held it out to him.

"Why not?" you murmured softly, your voice gentle as you leaned forward slightly, offering him the bite. "I want to."

Sylus’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he leaned toward you, his lips parting as he accepted the offering. His fingers brushed yours as he took the bite from your hand, and there was something so simple yet profound in the way he did it — as though this small, tender gesture meant more than anything else.

He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving you. "I’ve never been fed like this before," Sylus murmured, his voice low and intimate, the teasing from earlier replaced with something deeper, more sincere. "I think I could get used to it."

You smiled softly, the warmth in your chest growing as you took another piece of salad and held it out to him, this time a little closer, watching as he leaned in to take it. His fingers brushed your hand again, and this time, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him linger, letting the intimacy of the moment settle in.

Sylus’s gaze softened even more, his eyes filled with an affection that he rarely showed anyone.

"You spoil me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice almost a caress. "But I don’t mind it one bit."

You giggled lightly, offering him another bite. "You deserve to be spoiled. You’ve done so much for me."

He smiled, taking the next bite from your hand. "It’s not about what I deserve," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "It’s about what makes you happy. And seeing you like this… feeding me, taking care of me… It makes me feel like the luckiest man alive."

With that, you both continued in the same rhythm — the moments stretching out like something timeless. Feeding him felt as natural as breathing, each bite of salad a shared connection, each glance, each touch, a reaffirmation of the bond that was growing between you two.

Sylus leaned back slightly after a few bites, his body still so close to yours, his presence always grounding you.

"How’s that for a good start to the day?" he asked, his voice soft and playful, but with an undeniable sincerity beneath it.

You smiled, reaching for the glass of juice beside you and offering it to him as well.

"Perfect," you whispered. "But I think the best part of today is just being here with you."

He chuckled softly, taking the glass from you and drinking deeply. When he set it back down, he looked at you with that look again — the one that made your heart race and your skin tingle with the force of his affection.

"I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart."