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imaginaryf1shots · 3 months

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Burned out | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 1.6K

Lewis Hamilton X Platonic!reader

Summery: (REQUESTED) going through a burn out is never easy, lucky for you, your best friend is here to help you.

Masterlist

Not edited at all, not even a little bit.

You and Lewis have been friends for years, it’s a well known thing. you have been there for each other through it all, the ups and downs, the championships, the DNFs and everything in between. Every spare moment you had off work you’d be wherever he is, spending vacations at his house in Monaco or going with him to Brazil for a trip. now don’t get me wrong you have a normal office job, you work your hours normally, but you’re smart about your days off.

However these days it’s all been a little harder, you’re having to move because of your landlord wanting to live in the house, with a close call from him you’ve been house hunting every weekend, and work has been piling on, your company let quite a few people go, so you’ve had to take on more workload with the same salary and everything, and let’s not forget all the family commitments you’ve had to cancel on.

But alas life has to go on.

”What do you think about this one?” You ask Lewis who is on facetime with you, as you walked around the apartment your real estate agent was showing you, you prefer the one you’re in now, but this one isn’t bad in your opinion.

”It’s definitely better than the one from last week.” Lewis said, you hummed in agreement, opening the cabinets to look at the storage.

”I think so too, the best one so far.” You muttered and bit your lip in compilation.

”Are you signing this one?” Lewis asked and you nodded.

”I think so, I don’t think I’ll find a better one before I have to move out.” You stated, and that was that. you put an offer in, and waited.

”What do you want to eat?” Lewis asked from across the island, he had his fridge open, he had a stack of boxes that are made for his diet but he didn’t feel like any of them today. when you didnt respond he turned to look at you, you didnt hear him focused on your open laptop, where you had your work project on but you weren’t typing or doing anything just staring at the screen as if it killed your first child. “Hey, earth to (y/n).”

Lewis had to wave his hand in front of your face for you to snap out of it. “What? Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked what do you want to eat, but now I think you need to take a break, you’ve been here for five hours and you haven’t moved from your spot.” Lewis said raising an eyebrow.

”I moved!”

”To go to the loo.” Lewis smiled and you rolled your eyes having no comeback.

”What do you feel like eating, I’ll have whatever.” You said trying to change the subject, you rolled your shoulders trying to loosen them up.

”Don’t try to change the subject, love.” Lewis was having none of it, you sighed, he moved around the island to stand by you. “It wouldn’t kill you to take an hour off.”

“An hour! I can’t do that, I have so much to do, I have to hand this in on Monday and then there’s another project for the week after that I have almost nothing done in and then I still haven’t heard back from the agent for the house and I have to move in under three weeks-“

“Okay, okay, breathe.” Lewis places his hands on your shoulders and you take a deep breath, he knows that all this work and all the stress from having to move is affecting you, you haven’t seen any of your friends for a while and your family lives too far for you to see them regularly and it’s taken it’s toll on you. “Now, you’ve been sitting here for a half an hour without doing anything, you need a break, let’s go out for food and then you can come back and finish your work for the night, okay?”

”Fine, but we can’t be out for too long.” You say and save your work.

”We won't.”

You did go out, and you didn't take long, but here you are regretting this, as you’re rushing to finish everything to be handed in. Now every moment you spent doing anything else but working is eating you alive. All the what ifs and what nots are killing you slowly. your nails are chewed to bits, and you’re all over the place as you gather your things to head to the office, only taking five minute in front of the door before you head out to sort your look.

”Hey love, I’m leaving in a few days and when can we meet up?” Lewis asked you over the phone as you stood in the street trying to stop a taxi, but failing miserably and it just started to rain, you sigh feeling as if the world is crashing onto you.

”I can’t Lew, I’m sorry I dont have the time.” You say and try to stop your voice from changing, but Lewis knows you too well he could tell that there’s something going on.

”What’s wrong? Is it your project?” Lewis sat up on his sofa, he stopped petting Rosco as he frowned, he hears you sniffing and gets up from his place.

“No-no, the project is fine, bu-but they want me to do another and them my offer got rejected and I don’t have time to go see another place and I have to start packing to move, and no freaking taxi is stopping and it’s raining and just shit.” You wanted to scream right now, but being in public just didn’t help. The rain is disgusting your tears but your voice is heave and wavering, Lewis is already with his keys and leaving his house.

”It’s okay love, where are you?” You tell him and push your stick hair out of your face. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, yeah, just find somewhere dry to stand.”

It takes Lewis around 30 minutes to reach you, considering the traffic that’s a miracle. you see his Mercedes coming around the corner, you’re still wet and cold when you hop in the car, the heat is already on. Your eyes are red and your lips in a permanent frown, your bag slipping to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lewis asked softly and took your freezing hand in his. “Stupid question.”

“Thank you for picking me up.” You mumble looking out the window, your hand holding tightly to Lewis's. You're in need of his comfort and just knowing that he's there makes you think that maybe something is going right in your life. You have your best friend and everything is okay.

Lewis drives you to his house only letting go when he needs to park.

“Come on, let's get inside.” You walk behind Lewis, and once you're inside he helps you take off your wet jacket. “Go shower, before you get sick, I'll get the kettle going.”

You slowly make your way to the guest bedroom, the room you sleep in when you're spending the night for one reason or the other. You don't cry in the shower or when you get dressed in some clothes you had here(the hoodie you slip on top belong to lewis).

When you make it to the kitchen you see Lewis standing beside the tea mugs he made on his phone. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” You mutter and meet his brown eyes, Lewis gives you the smallest smile and opens his arms for you, you don't hesitate before walking into them. He's so warm and so familiar and he just holds you, he says nothing and that's all it took for the floodgates to open again. You're sobbing as he holds you, he doesn't shush you or try to make you stop he just lets you get it all out. You don't know how long it is when you're out of tears but the tea has since gone cold and Lewis is putting the kettle back on while you wash your face.

Once you're sitting in the living room with your tea is when you start talking.

“I don't know why I'm feeling this way, but nothing is going right and I just feel so bad all the time, I don't have the energy to do anything but I have so much to do and then nothing is going right and, and I feel so sad and lonely and it's just, its..”

“Oh darling.” Lewis pulls you for a hug once more. “You're going through a burn out.”

“What?” You say not expecting this, pulling back from the hug you think about it. Everything you just said is pointing to the fact that it's signs of burnout. “Oh.”

“You're burned out and you got the whole house situation and its adding to it.” Lewis comforts you. “Now here's the plan I have for you, 1. You tell your boss you're not taking new projects unless they hire more people to help you, no let me finish, 2. Until you find a place come stay here, I'm almost never here anyways. We get a storage unit for all you stuff that you won't need here. 3. You, love, are inba serious need for a vacation. So tomorrow ask for your some of your vacation days and after you finish your project for next week you're coming with me to travel for a bit.”

“Wow, you got it all figured out.” You say breathlessly before breaking into a smile.

“Of course, can't have my best friend being all burned out and not helping.” Lewis kisses your forehead and you give him another hug.

“Thank you Lew.”

“Hey, you don't need to thank me, what are friends for?”

“Not all of them are like you.”

“Well, lucky you then.”

“You're getting cocky now, I think I need to humble you a bit.”

“Huh, I'd like to see you try.”

“Is this a challenge?”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 #team lh44 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #lewis hamilton platonic reader #f1 x platonic reader

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twiceastasty · 2 years

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Winding Down the Season

Techniques that rely on freezing, dry storing, and dehydrating let you quickly save, with minimal prep, the garden’s last fruit and vegetables. Learn about winding down the season.

This September, we’ve been lucky to have fairly warm days and nights in Montana, with just a couple of hints at a killing frost that we were able to protect against temporarily. But the garden is still winding down. In the main garden, I’m finding fewer cucumbers and snap beans, with vines starting to dry and lose leaves. In the greenhouse, tomatoes and tomatillos are putting all of their energy…

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#easy food storage #fall harvest #favorite food storage #flathead beacon #food column #gardening #homegrown vegetables #ripen indoors #season extension

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scudslut · 2 months

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Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

stay with me

daryl x fem!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/ptsd

a/n: absolutely love me some good fluffy angst, thank u nony❤️ i hope you like it:))

As much as you tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable situations runs would put you in, the blood-chilling reality of it never got any easier. No amount of mental prep could stove off the sounds and smell of the dead, nipping ravenously for a taste of your sweet living flesh.

Of course, over time you’d learned just to shut your brain off and fight. Fight as hard and tirelessly as you possibly could, but mistakes could still be made. Shit happened, whether it was your fault or not.

Hours earlier, a group of you went a few miles east of the prison; Daryl having spotted a little strip a few days prior, not too overrun that he thought might be loot-worthy.

It was a simple run really. Keep close, hit a few shops in and out, then head back home. That’s it. Follow the plan, get as much useful shit as possible, and get the fuck out of there. You guys had it down to a science at this point, runs becoming so second nature it was almost too easy to let your guard down nowadays.

“Hey D, I’m gonna go check the storage room back here. Might have something we could use,” you voiced to your partner a few isles down, still keeping your tone as low as you could.

“Gimme a sec, I'll come help ya,” you heard him say but you kept moving. You two had already cleared the main area, you could handle a walker or two if there actually was any behind the small door. You figured you would’ve heard something by now, some sort of banging or grumbling to announce their presence, but there was nothing, the coast presumably clear.

You should have waited.

Crossing the few miscellaneous isles you reached the back door, giving it a small rattle. Still complete silence, not even the faintest groan or shuffle. Knife at the ready, hand clamped over the cool metal handle, your heart rate picked up a notch as it always did before opening into the unknown.

“You got this, come on,” you muttered to yourself, before throwing the door open, bracing for attack. The door flew wide, only to reveal a dark, empty room. Squinting through the dimness, a few high, dusty shelves were visible, stocked with all sorts of canned goods. Fuck yea, that was certainly useful.

“D! Come look what I found!” you rasped, dropping your knife into its holster and shuffling in. You unslung your backpack from your shoulders, digging through it for a flashlight excitedly. It’s been so long since you’ve found this much canned food, surely enough to keep the group well stocked through most of the winter that was approaching. A loud creak from the left caught your attention as you sped forward. Hands finally finding purchase on the flashlight, you flicked it on, scanning across the room to the sound.

Dust caked the air, making the already dark room fuzzier and your eyes took a minute to adjust. You took a few smaller steps closer, peering wearily ahead and then you saw them.

Beady, soulless eyes staring back. A whole rickety staircase of them, heads turning one by one to the light source in your hand.

“Oh fuck.”

There had to be at least 10 of them that you could see, the top of the stairs pitch black and unrevealing.

Your feet stumbled backward, hands desperately reaching for the knife at your hip, dropping the flashlight in the process. It rolled and caught under your heels, knocking you on your ass as the corpses advanced, jaws snapping.

These were those moments. When you felt your heart in your throat, brain stuttering on action. Time moved so slowly that the fragments were almost visible and every thought screaming in your mind sounded like gibberish. You know you should move, is that what it was screaming?

The first one got to you, grabbing your leg trying to crawl up and finally, you were kicking, scrambling, grabbing onto the knife and slamming it into its skull with a loud squelch.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You needed him. Now.

3 more dropped before you, slinking towards you and you were trapped — the first corpse lying heavily over your midsection.

“Yea, yea girl. I heard ya,” you heard him respond, still sounding a few isles away.

No no no, this was not how you were gonna die. Not today. Please.

You kept stabbing, each kill taking everything out of you as you struggled against the body weight atop you. They just kept piling, you could hardly feel your legs anymore, the circulation surely cut off below your knees. And more were coming, a never-ending stream of hunger.

Another one landed before you and you had just enough time to catch its shoulders before it was inches away, snapping at your neck. Your arms burned, tears welling in your eyes as you realized this could be it. You didn’t know how much longer you had before they gave out and rotting teeth would be sinking into you, tearing you apart.

The walker kept snapping, so close you could see the layers of rotting flesh peeling from its face. You had been close to walkers before, had stared into the lifeless eyes too many times to count, but this was different. More were coming and the face in the reflection of its eyes was barely recognizable — terror painting every feature you’d known on you distorted.

The bones cracked in its left shoulder and it dislocated, dropping down to centimeters from your skin.

“No,” you sobbed quietly. Daryl wasn’t going to make it, you knew that. He was going to walk in and find his girl as dinner. You hoped he just booked it, and didn’t waste his time trying to save what would long be gone.

The walker fell limp in your arms and you flinched harshly, expecting excruciating pain to follow as it bit. But there was nothing.

“The fuck are ya doing! Get up!”

Daryl was suddenly right before you, ripping each body off your aching limbs and you were now acutely aware of the larger pile by the stairs, all with arrows and stab wounds littering their heads. When had he gotten in here?

You didn’t hear his words, adrenaline coursing so loudly through your system that all that could be heard was a loud, shrill ringing.

“Goddammit girl, wake the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders in an attempt to lift you. Your brain caught up then, as he harshly placed you on your feet. Walkers scattered the floor around you, and a grumble at the stairs announced it wasn’t the last of them.

Daryl reached down, grabbed your dropped items, and shoved them in your dumbstruck hands. “We’re gettin’ outta here, now,” he seethed, dragging you along and slamming the door behind you both, crossing the lines of isles quickly to the front entrance.

The fresh, afternoon air hit your nose in a gust and the last of the fuzz chipped itself from your senses slowly.

“Hope yer fuckin happy with yerself. Can’t ever listen to a goddamn word’a mine, can ya?” Daryl quipped beside you. His eyes were slits as they dug into you, so fuming you could see the heat radiating off his skin in the early autumn brisk.

He was angry at you, you knew that. But you also knew it was because he was scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified to stone back there, but if you wanted to calm him down at all, you knew you had to act unfazed.

Gathering any remaining wits about you, you took a deep inhale, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting them.”

He didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at you anymore as he began to pace the graveled parking lot.

“Hey don’t stress Dar. I’m alive, we’re good,” you attempted to soothe further.

“Don’t stress? Yer a real piece a work, y’know that! Always fucking up everyone’s shit cause ya don’t wanna use yer brain, huh?”

Well, that did not go as you expected.

The rest of the group had started shuffling out of the other shops around you, making their way to the vehicles.

“Jeez, you need to lighten up,” you brushed past him, head high. You couldn’t let his words affect you, not with all the other emotions coursing as well. You didn’t understand what he meant. You had never put anyone other than yourself in danger, how could you possibly be fucking over everyone else?

You decided to wait in the car as the rest of the group went back for the cans, tag-teaming whatever walkers remained. The loot had decently filled both trunks and everyone was happy to call it a day and head back.

Your eyes followed Daryl as he jumped into your car, eyes trained on the windshield, “Ya alright at least?” he muttered glancing at you briefly while shifting the car into drive.

“I’m good, you big grump,” you huffed with a tight-lipped smile. “That much food will last us a long time. I believe a thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

You were not good. Not at all, but there was no reason to worry him anymore, putting him through enough today as it was. Your hands were shoved tightly under your thighs, so he couldn’t see the tremors racking through you.

You had smelt death so many times it didn’t bother you much anymore. Today you had smelt your own. Saw your life in that walker's eyes, mere seconds away from demolition. It was safe to say you were shaken to your core.

The journey back was silent, both not in the mood to chat for very different reasons, and the whole time you were trying to keep each breath of yours steady.

You helped unload as much as you could, before slipping away discreetly to your cell. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you felt kind of pathetic honestly. This was life now, it had been this way for a long time now, you shouldn’t be so shaken up as you were but the terror just wouldn’t leave your body.

Panic washed over you once again as your eyes hit your dim cell. Your mind was quickly slipping back into those last moments, the darkness and dust all too similar. The fear you had felt coating your veins icily and your breaths started to become agitated. There was nowhere else to go though. If you left the cell someone would see you.

Subconsciously, you backed yourself into the corner of the room, crumbling down to the floor with your head in your hands. Deep down you hoped your hyperventilating would knock you out. You didn’t want to think anymore — see it anymore. Tears were burning the back of your throat as you held down sobs, feeling the walker's hands and weight atop of you all again.

A small yelp escaped you when the hands became real. Pressure on your shoulders and waist and your head snapped up from its hiding spot, reflexes already prepared to fight whatever presence was with you.

“It’s jus’ me, hey, hey,” you heard through your panic, his blue eyes just recognizable through blurry tears. “S’okay, relax.”

You couldn’t calm down this time, vicious sobs finally breaking their way out of your frame. Running was your first thought; you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, Daryl or not. Emotions were never a strong suit of yours and would always find yourself dealing with them in private, away from sympathetic words and pitying eyes. But Daryl was never like that, he drew you in and held you tight, uttering no more words other than the ones to confirm it was him. If you asked him to say more, he would, but he knew this was what you needed. Someone to ground you back onto Earth and out of whatever images tormented your head.

So that’s what he did. Held you for hours as your body expelled all its terror and lingering adrenaline. He’d give quiet coos through each wave of shakes, grabbing a blanket to warm you through the cold sweats. And finally, once the fear faded to exhaustion, he scooped you up off the stiff concrete and into your soft cot.

“Stay with me?” you rasped, throat parched and raw from crying.

It wasn’t a second thought for him. He was never truly angry with you, and he knew you knew that. He needed you safe with him.

“Always.”

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 months

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The fun has just begun

Daryl Dixon x reader

Two men snatch you away for some fun. Before they even get anywhere you and Daryl have turned the tables and have some fun of your own.

Warning: Turture. Mentions of sexual assault.

Daryl watched you from the path to where you sat crouched surrounded by high greenery.

When nature calls, you gotta answer and Daryl, being the gentleman he is would always have your six.

Just as your pants were back up again, though, you got jumped.

Daryl stalked the men who had you by the arms and legs, not engaging in case there were more and he'd be outnumbered. Getting you hurt worse just because he got cocky was not the way to go today.

You were dragged inside a storage building not far off, having caught glimpses of Daryl on your way and knowing you would be okay, saving your strength instead of struggling too much. Pretending to be a poor little girl would definitely help you in the long run, but taking them both on wouldn't end up well for you now.

Once inside you realised it was in fact just these two men. They had supplies and small bits of food laying around in the othwrwise empty place. One of them went off, mumbling about grabbing something from god knows where while the other one held you restrained.

You let out a sigh that had thr man laughing. "Oh don't worry, pretty lady. We'll be friends soon enough."

He didn't realize the sigh wasn't one of defeat. It was disappointment.

Daryl had taught you how to get out of this type of grip right when he started training you, he needed to know you could break free and run if he didn't get to you in time and by now you were a pro in it, being able to even get out of Abraham's grasp. With or without a little cheating that you profusely apologized for with a scavenged pack of cigars.

The unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground made it to your ears and used the moment to get out of the man's grasp and knpck him out with a calculated strike. On success you couldn't help but bounce with a little cheer as Daryl came into view with the other man being pulled along.

"Wanna feed 'em to the walkers?" It was always an easy cleanup option for Daryl. Break a leg and toss them in a highly populated part of the woods only to go back and clear out the area later with a group.

But you had other plans.

"Well, since he's all tied up already you can set him up against the crate, I'll find this one a chair." Daryl's brows furrowed in confusion but went along with whatever you told him. He liked your wacky plans and they always had a positive outcome.

So the tied up and now gagged man was sat up against the crates, facing his friend who was waking up tied to a chair. Daryl took the groggy noise as his que to wake up the man by slapping his cheek.

"Yo, wakey wakey. Girl's got somethin' ta show ya." The man shook and struggled against his restraints with no luck and looked around in a panicked state.

"Ah, fun! Let's get going then, huh, Dee?" You were all smiles and cheer with the rusted kitchenknife in your hand, and all Daryl did was grunt and gesture for you to go ahead.

With a quick twirl of your fingers the knife spun in your hand before sinking it down into the man's hand and inspected it coming out underneath just beside the metal of the chair. "That's for thinking it was smart to grab someone when they're peeing." You yanked the knife back out and used all your weight to stomp your lifted foot down between his legs. "And that too." The man's screams were sure to draw the dead, but with all exits checked you knew you were fine.

All Daryl did was stare as you hurt the man, one one hand afraid of this side of you, but on the other hand feeling the undeniable effect you were having on him straining against his pants.

Daryl watched as you stepped off and went to grab something from your bag. He followed your every move until the man decided to call after you.

"You bitch!" Daryl's attention was back on the man, amused with the attempt to curse at you. "I'll cut your limbs off and use you as my fucking cum dumpster!"

Behind you the screaming only made you laugh, and the loud crack, scrape of metal amd thud only made you laugh.

"Oh? Joining in after all, baby?" You came back with your backpack and dug around while asking Daryl to please put the idiot upright again, which he did by grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back up. "Hmhm. No one threatens ta hurt mah girl 'n get away with it." Daryl made sure to give the other one who sat back a warning glare before stepping aside to let you do your thing.

You watched the blood run from his split lip and hummed in thought before perking up and grabbing an old scalpel.

"Now sit still or I'll poke out your eye. Okay?" You punctuated the sentence with a sweet smile as you squeezed your hand atound his jaw, digging your fingers into the spot where Daryl had punched him.

Keeping up the squeeze, you moved your other hand that held a box cutter to his forehead, pretending to measure and making a "hmmm" sound before taking the cutter to his skin, carving away while holding his head as steady as possible. It was harder than you expected so your finished work was really wonky, but it got the message across.

"Idiot?" Daryl chucked from behind you, moving closer to admire your work. "Yeah, I wanted to write dumbass, but that's got too many letters.

The man before you was shaking and whimpering in pain, blood running down his face, smeared across his chest and dripping from the hole in his hand.

"So, now what? You wanna do something?" You took a step back to be next to Daryl, who nodded with a soft "yeah" and went to grab a pair or pliers.

"Ooh, i like those! What are you thinking?" You watched as Daryl reached for the man's chin and pulled it down. "Thinkin' 'bout takin' sum teeth." The man before you squirmed and tried to shake his head out of Daryl's grasp but failed miserably, only causing himself more pain as Daryl punched him again. "There, loosened 'em up for ya."

Behind gou the other bound man struggled against his binds and fell to the floor with a thud, making you laugh. "Alright, you do pull some teeth, I'll go deal with the other idiot." You turned around with a huff and picked up the crowbar he carried before, giving him a quick, clearly unnecessary "this will hurt." before raising it above your head and bringing it down hard on his lower leg.

Daryl let out a frustrated grunt at the swuirming man in front of him, cracking the pliers against his temple to keep him from thrashing around so much. Where even did he get the energy? With a swift movement Daryl pulled down the man's jaw again and stuck the pliers in his mouth, clamping them on a tooth.

Just as he had it positioned right Daryl was startled by a loud crack and a muffled scream, making him pull back and yank out the tooth earning another loud pained scream. "Jesus, woman. Warn me next time will ya?"

You laughed and apologised, coming up behind him to kiss his cheek and go back to your own victim again. "Strike!!" You yelled before again bringing the crowbar down, on his other leg this time. The pained screams echoed through the hall before it went silent again as your floored guy passed out.

"Ah come on! Unfair.."

Daryl could only smile at his girl as he took some more of the man's teeth and tossed them at his friend at your feet. "C'mere, this one's still awake." He waved the bloody pliers at you and you accepted them with a huff and a pout. "Guess we gotta share you now, then."

You looked him over, pliers tapping at your jaw leaving a bloody stain on your skin. Your eyes stopped at his still uninjured hand and set the pliers on one of his nails, squeezing hard and pulling back in a quick motion earning you a scream of pain and the harsh clawing of walkers at the large hall doors.

"Tha's our sign ta leave. Tha' door ain't holdin'much longer." Daryl's hand rested on your shoulder to get your attention away from your victim, making you drop the pliers and turn to grab your stuff.

"Toss him at his friend and make some noise, please?" Daryl did as instructed and threw the man, chair included onto hos unconsious friend and went to clank some metal bits together to get the walkers outide even more agitated.

As soon as the door gave you climbed onto the large crates stacked high up to the windows.

"An' now we're stuck." Daryl watched you with his arms crossed, wondering how you were going to get out of this place now there were walkers swarming the floor but you were too busy watching your two new buddies get torn apart.

When you weren't able to see them anymore you turned to the windows, prying them open. "Fuck, help me break these.." You were struggling to break the hinges, together tearing them off and letting the window fall open entirely.

"Come on, we can get onto the roof from here." Daryl only grunted as he watched you climb through the open window and following you as you hoisted yourself up onto the roof of the building.

"Yer fuckin' crazy, woman.." His words came out in huffs, breathing heavy as he laid on his back but you couldn't deny seeing the glint of a smile on his face. You smiled back at him ans went to sit down, right on top of his hips. "Oh now don't go saying you didn't have fun down there." You stuck out your tongue with a wide grin on your face, letting out a yelp as Daryl pulled you down for a hug and peppering kisses all over your face and laughing.

"I love ya, my lil' psycho."

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #Spotify

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avastrasposts · 7 months

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A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps.

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings.

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs.

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face.

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight.

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs.

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles.

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.”

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.”

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?”

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough.

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.”

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated.

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!”

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.”

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.”

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.”

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.”

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt.

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options.

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.”

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.”

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly.

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?”

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin.

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?” “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you.

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you.

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him.

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench.

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.”

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door.

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again.

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.”

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench. “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple.

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.”

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool.

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.”

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go.

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses.

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.”

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months.

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral.

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder.

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat.

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn.

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.”

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan.

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough.

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks.

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks.

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.”

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?”

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?”

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is.

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl.

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.”

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread.

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge.

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.”

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside.

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing.

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand.

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.”

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.”

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel.

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.”

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.”

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?”

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.”

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.”

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots.

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you. “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!”

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine.

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.”

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.”

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?”

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity.

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek.

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk.

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.”

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till.

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back.

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want.

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier.

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth.

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.”

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head.

“No, not at all.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you.

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for.

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee.

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath.

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements.

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter.

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you.

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray.

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl.

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.”

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.”

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon.

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.”

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.”

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth.

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.”

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling.

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.”

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?”

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste.

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?”

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough.

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out.

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.”

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours.

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him.

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that.

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh.

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist.

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face.

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.”

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check.

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.”

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.”

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.”

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer.

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge.

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile.

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go.

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread.

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews.

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.”

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip.

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite.

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better.

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see.

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder.

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair.

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head.

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again.

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.”

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.”

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him.

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive.

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor.

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase. “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box.

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door.

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights.

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them.

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting.

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D”

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fanfiction #a bakers dozen #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fluff #the bubble

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gassyandnasty · 4 days

Text

The Jock Formula - Part 2.0

JOINING THE FRAT: THE HAZING CEREMONY

Josh and his friends invited me to their frat. I've never been to one, people say that some are pretty chill and others are dangerous, but regardless of that, I don't belong in the chemistry lab anymore.

So I packed my things and went to the adress they gave me. It was night already, the place was pretty loomy, and the house was all dark. I wonder if they forgot about inviting me. But I knocked anyways.

Knock

"Come in" a group of guys say ominously, as if they were expecting me behind the door. It was open, so I came in.

The hall was lit only by candles, as I saw a lot of shadowy and BIG figures all over the place, but three stood in front of me.

"Welcome to your hazing ceremony, Drew." Josh starts.

"The tasks will decide if you stay with us or not." Sal completes

"If you are a true jock, or an eternal nerd." finishes Jongho.

They were looking at me dead in the eye while all of this scene sent chills up my spine. All broke down when Sal started to laugh, and the other boys followed.

"Dude, you almost pissed yourself!" Sal mocks, and patting my back.

"This never gets old!" Jongho says in a laughing fit, high-fiving some other guys in the back.

"So... this dark hazing ceremony is a joke, right?" I try to break the ice.

"As much this scene was a joke, the hazing is real, pledge." Josh says, like a boss.

_________________________________________

They said the first task would be easy, as I was led to the kitchen, being met with a table STACKED with hot dogs.

"Sit, buddy" Jongho says on the other side of the table. He was a pretty big and buff guy, I mean, all of them were, but he was specially bulky, and I was about to find out why...

"To stay here, you have to beat the CHAMP!" Jongho said as he punched his pecs like a gorilla, as all of the guys howlered and chanted his name.

"This task is simple as I like things to be, who eats the most hot dogs, win." Jongho said, as Josh rang a bell and he started to DEVOUR the hot dogs. This dude was like a monster, I swear I saw him eating two with just one bite. I was a scrawny guy, like... yesterday? I was satisfied with a BigMac, how on earth could I beat him?

I knew that competitive eaters used a technique to swallow the most they could storage, so they wouldn't get sick. Something like flexing abdominal muscles, or your jaw... but then I rememberd...

Fuck this nerd bullshit.

And went FERAL on the hot dogs.

I can only describe flashes of this deed. Sausages everywhere, desperately looking for a cup of water, Jongho was chewing so loud it looked like a dog, and when I noticed, my belly was full, and the table was empty.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!!

The end of the match was announced by Jongho filling the room like a dragon with a MONSTRUOUS belch. I looked around, and all of the guys were shocked, even Josh.

"Easy, haha" Jongho said, taking his shirt off. His muscles gave space to the food, so when the pat his belly, it jiggled.

I was a little drowzy. I only remembered eating the most I could, then I felt a hand on my back.

"Are you alright, dude?" Josh asked.

"How... many?" I asked, with my belly full.

"Did you think we were counting? That was wild! One of the best eating matches this frat ever saw, right guys?" Josh announced, and everyone howlered with him, chanting my name and Jongho's.

Jongho got up and approached me. "This dude was the only worthy opponent I met. I declare Drew VICTORIOUS!" Jongho lifted my arm in celebration, and all of that force dislodged the gas that was dying to explode out of me.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP!!

That felt so good. And what was even better? Hearing all of the frat chating my name.

But there were still two tasks...

_________________________________________

I went to another room that was dark and already stinky.

"Yo, we are up next. Congrats haha never saw anyone eating like Jongho." Says Sal. He was sat having some snacks on a table. He was one of the guys I heard most of. Many girls and boys swoon over him. When I got up close, I grimaced: onions, anchovies, milk, beans, and the list went on with the most unpleasant food you could think of.

"Sit." He says, while eating an entire can of anchovies. "This is the nasty gas challenge. We have to eat the most disgusting food and see the one who brews the worst gas out of it."

I was skeptical of this. My nerd brain thought that was impossible, but that stink was already making me pass out, and I heard that their gas was really disgusting, imagine with all of this, it would be- UUUuuuUURRPPP

A wave of a DISGUSTING belch hits me. "Haha, wake up! Didnt you hear what I said? You have to eat this." Sal says, blowing the stench on me.

*COUGH* COUGH* "Okay... I was just thinking..." I was about to say when he slapped me.

"Think less." Said Sal sternly. And I couldn't agree more. I was only able to eat all of those hot-dogs when I stopped to racionalize the situation.

I did it. Mixed beans with anchovies, ate it all down with a glass of milk. It felt bad, but it felt wild too.

"Good haha you learn fast, fella. Now we have to put it to test." He says, patting my back.

"Test?" I ask.

"You didn't think I was going to judge, right?" Sal claps his hands in a signal, while I hear a bunch of guys coming upstairs.

"LET GO OF ME! YOU JERKS!" I hear some whining too.

The guys break down in the room bringing a whimp in their arms. They put him in a chair and tie him down.

"So, this little fella right here was caught spying on us. Trying to take pictures, a total perv!" Sal says, while took some polaroid out of this guy's pockets and showed a bunch of pictures of their windows, focusing of their butts, muscles.

"IT'S NOT FOR ME... I... I WAS GOING TO SELL..." he was about to say when Sal interrupted.

"So... this perv is going to be the judge pf tonight's nasty gas challenge!" Sal exclaims as this guy watch in horror.

"So, would you do the honors, Drew?" Sal challenged me.

And yeah, that disgusting meal and all of the hot dogs were doing a number on my stomach... poor little perv.

I bent over so we were face to face, I only patted my belly and let it rip.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPP

This one felt specially good, as it rumbled deep within the depths of my stomach. What was even better? Watching this perv cry and gag by the smell. Lucky it wasn't on my face.

*COUGH* *COUGH*

All of the guys laughed, mocking the perv as he had to endure my gas.

"Good one." Said Sal. "Now watch the boss." Sal took my place in front of him and started to swallow air. He swallowed very deep, and forced out a NASTY ROAR on this guy's face:

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOO9OOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

I swear I could even see this guy's hair blowing, as he GAGGED on this cloud of gas. Sal finished by blowing the nasty bits on his face and grabbing the guys head.

"Take a big whiff of that you little perv." He said with a smirk while the guy gagged in his hands.

"Wow, you are totally owning him!" I say in admiration. It's nice to see that whimp be put in place.

"That's how you gotta do, Drew. No mercy, c'mon!" Sal says, patting my back.

I had to do something bold. My guys were starting to stir up, so I had an idea. I picked some of the pictures the guy was carrying and held one that was showcasing a guy's pecs and pits. I took my shirt off and I could catch the guy thirstily looking at my muscles. He was really a perv.

"So, taking pictures only? Why don't you get a taste of those up close?" I mock, grabbing the guy's head and burrying on my pits. The smell was unbearable, almost as bad as my gas, cause I saw the guy trying to get free.

"LET ME GO!" He screams into my pits while I rub all of my sweat on his face. I wouldn't let this guy go this easily.

"Let go? Oh, I will let something go!" I taunt him as I pick him off my pits, and when he thinks he will take a breath of fresh air...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!!

Damn right, that was so nasty. He took it all right on his face, all the stink, even the bits of food leaving my mouth because of the force of the gas. This guy was in true hell.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA" All of the guys boomed in laughter, I think they liked my display of dominance. With a glimpse, I catched Sal winking to Josh in approval.

*COUGH* *COUGH* *COUGH*

"YOU GUYS... *COUGH* ARE GONNA PAY FOR IT!" The whimp tries to say while he gags on my stink.

I see Sal doing the same as me and picked the first picture he could find. "Oh, look at this!" He showcased the picture to everyone. "It's my ass!" They all laughed. "Nice pic, perv, since you wanted to see it so bad, I'll let you have a nice cheekful of my buns." Sal said, teasing. He indeed had a very nice ass, toned, round and bubbly, almost eating his shorts.

Sal turned around and bent over the perv's face.

"NO! NO! NO! I know what you are going to do, please! I won't do this anymore!" The perv begs, while Sal's huge cheeks are only an inch of his face.

"Do you know what I'm going to do? But I was only showing you the ass you wanted to see so bad..." Sal smirks. "Take a look on it... I know you want to..." Sal jiggles his ass a little, and the perv is almost hypnotized by it. "Bury your face in it..." Sal says, and he does it.

All of the guys grimace as the perv goes face-first on Sal's ass, and with a smirk, he says:

"I guess you really knew what I was going to do, perv." Sal says, grabbing the back of his head and really making he go deep in it.

"NO-" The perv was about to say, but it was a really bad idea to open his mouth...

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!

The deepest, loudest and nastiest fart I've ever heard. Sal was red for forcing it, scrunching his face to get all of the stink out. And it was a LOT, of stink. Some guys opened the window and others even ran. When Sal was finished, he

"Aaaah, enjoy that, perv" he sighs in relief as he gets up. The little guy's situation wasn't good. His face was sweaty and squashed as he passed out, and his eyebrows were gone by the brunt of the gas, Sal completely destroyed this guy. Sal looked behind and laughed: "Oops."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" that ensured laughter from all the room. Josh, Sal and Jongho approached me where the air was fresh.

"Very good." Sal says.

"Good? That was AWESOME!" I answer in enthusiasm. "But... I didn't win."

"Don't worry, you captured the spirit and put that creep on his place. That will make you as good as we are. For me, you are in, but Josh gets the next task. Haha, try not to die." Sal says proud of me, leaving chills up my spine.

________________________________________

They said I should be careful, but I don't think there is any challenge I couldn't beat at this point. But there was he, Josh was waiting me outside the house in his car. I don't know much about those but it looks expensive. He really got it all, all the girls, the looks, the frat, the team, this car, a total bastard. How I wanted to be like him.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To your final task." He answered.

It was late at night in a stranger car, he was certainly up to no good, but I kept quiety all the way. He was taking a familiar path, if I'm not mistaken... to the local library.

"Library? You know I don't fear math like you guys do, right?" I ask.

"That's what we'll see, ex-nerd. Stop making questions and follow me." He answered sharply.

I followed, and we came in. It was totally empty, only a few lights on, I don't even know how he had access to that.

"Now hear me out. There's your nerdy friend, if you can bully him, you're one of us. If not, I will take care of you both." Josh threatens.

I pondered. George was really my friend, and I'm finally like this because of him. But all I wanted was this power, force, can't go soft now, I have to-

WHACK

"Ouch, what was that for?" I ask Josh as he smacks my head.

"Stop thinking, will you go or not?"

I just make my head tall again, and approach that poor nerd.

"Want some studying tips?" I smack my hand on his table and have a seat.

He gasps. "Andrew... so you're one of them now. After betraying me. Never thought you were this jerk. What are you hear for? Flaunt your muscles?"

"Actually..." I take my shirt off and start bouncing my pecs, display my huge biceps, and my ripped abs. "And I got more..." I turn around and showcase my back and blades. I can hear Josh laughing from afar, as George is pissed in front of me.

"That formula was only for making you muscular, not idiot! Stop that!" George snaps. "What now? Wet willies? Wedgies? Stinkfaces? Youre a dissap-"

"Since you are asking for it..." I say as I drench my finger in saliva and rub it deep in his ear.

"DISGUSTING!" He grimaces as he has to suffer from my wet willy. I had enough of George's drama. Gosh, now I understand why they bully these nerds. They are so annoying!

"STOP!" He complained.

"Hmm, wet willy... check. So next, you were saying wedgies, right? Now here we go!" I say as I yank his underwear up with full force.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!" He SCREAMS in pain as his underwear is snatching his parts down there.

"I WILL GET MY REVENGE ANDREW! I WILL FIND A WAY TO TRANSFORM YOU BACK!" He threats. He can try haha.

I drop him on the ground and he catches his breath, red from all the pain.

"By the way, it's Drew now, nerd." I turn around and bend over. Those hot dogs and that food are still making a number on my stomach, and since he asked for a stinkface...

"Incoming..." I grab the back of his head and bury into my butt. I can feel my cheeks molding over his face, and his screams are muffled by my now fat ass. This is the life. I grunt and push, and then... boom.

PBPBPBPBPPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I force out a CRUEL fart right on his face. It rumbled and echoed through the halls for a long time, and I held his head so he could get the most stink out of it.

"Aaaaah, get a taste of your formula, George, thanks." I mock as I leave him gagging there.

"Am I in?" I approach Josh as he was proudly watching everything.

"Welcome to the frat, Drew!"

#male farts #jock #dumbing down #male biceps #male burp #thejockformula #male pecs #muscles #belly k!nk #hypnosis #fart story #burp story

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