#“What do you mean you need to wash your rice”

[fancychaostraveller]

ReviveCherik2024 - Cooking

For the #ReviveCherik2024 Day11 : AU - Day26 : Cooking, based on @clockwork-stars's astonishing culinary talents !

The AU is set on a modern!Uni -verse where Erik and Charles met on a protest thanks to Raven, Charles' sister, that is in Erik's brotherhood.

Erik is fighting for mutants' rights by organising protests across the city and sometimes escalating (obviously because of the policemen, he says), and also leading riots when "It is necessary". He is not against breaking government stuff if those can be used against mutants, and have quite a group of followers (and his most trusted form the Brotherhood, which is more of the 'Hardcore rioting club' than anything hazardous) (Ps : Edie Lenhsherr is still alive!!! She also supports his son and taught him how to sew so he could make himself his Magneto suit)

Charles on the other hand can be found at peaceful protest, but he mainly persuades his scientific degree to prove to the world they are not so different and educate people. He also doubles as "TA" for younger mutant students to help them control their powers if needs arise. Charles knows about Erik's "Club" and is unconvinced by it.

~~~

~~~

Magneto was looking over his Brotherhood, quite bored if he had to say so himself. Their 'meeting' -if you could even name it that- had started what feels like hours ago -a good 15min- and they were getting nowhere.

He looked across the room and threw an exasperate glance at Mystique, who was clearly laughing at him mentally. He admittedly had been the one to insist for a weekly reunion, but he hadn't thought it would end up being so mundane and repetitive. Was it his fault if he had expected grand bravado operations, explosions, spying and all those great things we see in movies nowaday?

He could nearly hear Charles nagging about it in his mind -Probably because he had been nagged telepathically a bit too often.- "Eril we're not in a movie and I will certainly not call you 'Magneto' when you're wearing that dreadful helmet and cape. Where did you even find those??? You should focus on peaceful protest, or else humans will truly fear us!" He repressed a sigh, annoyed but quite fond of the man that had managed to somehow -and it's a miracle when we take account of all the tweed the other was wearing- steal his heart.

He was snapped out of his thought by the sudden buzzing coming out of his pocket.

Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz

He frowned. "Who in Hell..." All of his Brotherhood were present in the room. So, no one could be calling his burner phone. And no one else had this number, except his mom, just in case of emergency (and anyway, she was more likely to call his regular phone) or....

A sense of dreed washed over him. The only other person who had this number was Charles!

As soon as the realisation was made, his phone quite literally flew out of his pocket thanks to his power and he was taking the call, speaking sharply : '- What's wrong?'

A silence answered him for a few seconds -too many already- and then he heard Charles (His Charles, thank G-d) clearig his throat :

"...Erm.... Erik? I..... I swear to God it's not my fault"

Embarassment and... Guilt(?) were laced in Charles' tone, and Eri- Magneto's face suddently morphed into a deadpanned expression, feeling all his previous worries evaporate. Because there was only one situation where Charles would speak like that. Oh L-rd.

'- What have you done?' he asked.

"I was cocking rice right? And before you ask, no I didn't add too much wa- Oh bOllOCkS"

More chatter could be heard throught the phone, and a quick glace toward his Brotherhood showed him that Mystique had too understood what her brother was up too. Unfortunately. He vagelly heard her muttered a "Is he burning the house down AGAIN???" before registering what else Charles had to say :

"WHY does it smell like burned food??? All I did was boiling water!!"

'- I told you not to cook by yourself...' was his only answer, voice as blank and emotionless as his face.

"It's literally just rice!" Charles answered cheeckily as if he wasn't burning down the house at this exact moment.

Erik had a sudden thought, imagining Charles sitting outside their shared flat burning down, with a stubborn expression that could read "I don't get it, my cooking skill are not that bad" even if the fireworkers were called on site. And then he sighed, and called off the meeting.

And yes, @clockwork-stars is this bad at cooking rice. We told them everything to know to cook better rice after that and they still can't do it- But they manage pasta so I mean they won't die of hunger any time soon don't worry

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

Every now and then I remember the times I would mention to my flatmate that I was thinking of buying myself something reasonably expensive (that I had been eyeing up for months and had budgeted for) and she'd tell me that I shouldn't spend that much money on something I didn't need and it would be stupid etc etc while she regularly impulse bought things that cost at least as much and she would use once (while complaining that she was under a lot of financial stress and couldn't afford <$3/week for 2 months for a rental washing machine when ours broke). She is... perhaps not my first call for financial advice

[chososlilprincess]

last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

[i314flix]

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

okay woah WOAHH THE LASTEST LEWIS ORDER!?????? SCRUMPTIOUS!!!!! 

can i please have lewis hamilton serving bagel, croissant and oaty slice with sides of herbal tea, cortado and rice milk with EXTRAAA SWEETENER PLEASE?? maybe one where lewis is sick and not well, he's being very needy and clingy with wife reader? oh gosh i just know you're gonna do wondersss

a big old teddy bear

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing in general, order is extra sweet as requested and i'm so sorry for the long as wait time my lovely <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; your husband truly is just a big old teddy bear when he's sick

warnings; lovesick husband lewis, also vomit if you hate it [let me know if i missed anything]

bagel; "where you going, this ain't over" croissant; "don't you dare" oaty slice; "you smell like me" herbal tea; soft but only for you cortado; belly kisses rice milk; baby fever

currently playing; nightingale by demi lovato "can you be my nightingale, sing to me, i know you're there, you could be my sanity, bring me peace, sing me to sleep, say you'll be my nightingale"

"this is the last thing i need right now" you groaned as you looked down at the small patch of bile of your top before gazing back your daughter; sage who was almost six months old.

your day was going downhill rather quickly it seemed, first your production company demanded the album be finished by the end of the month and you had a sick baby to deal with and it seemed like your day couldn't get any worse until was made worse beyond measure by your husband.

ignoring the fact you loved him dearly, your husband was an idiot...

truly, i mean who in their right mind did a drivers parade in the rain without a coat, he'd claimed it was all for the sake of fashion but he'd quickly regretted that claim when he woke up this morning with a burning fever, it'd taken you twenty minutes of convincing to unattach his sweaty form from your own.

you placed sage down in her highchair for a brief moment and began to wipe the bile from your shirt with a damp cloth when a knock sounded on your apartment door and the relief that washed over you took over the need you felt to burst into tears, you'd convinced your mother to watch sage for the day so that you could tend to an over clingy sick lewis, not that you'd not her he was sick and work on the album in between.

the knock sounded again, a sharp contrast to the chaos swirling around you. “please let it be my mum,” you muttered under your breath, grateful for the brief moment of hope.

you opened the door to find your mother standing there, arms loaded with a container of what looked like chicken and sweetcorn soup. “i thought i’d bring you some comfort food,” she said with a smile that instantly soothed some of your tension. “and i see lewis is still in his pajamas.”

you sighed, glancing back at your husband, who was sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that he’d claimed was ‘just for decoration’ before he’d been been forced to admit he had in fact caught a miserable old cold. “he’s having a rough morning,” you admitted. “but you’re a lifesaver. i really need to get this album finished.”

your mom nodded, stepping inside and putting the soup down on the kitchen counter. “well then you go take care of that and i’ll take sage to her mummy and me class.”

you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, a reprieve from the relentless demands of the day. you leaned down to give sage a gentle kiss on the forehead before hugging your mother tight. "i can't thank you enough for this"

your mother smiled warmly, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your day. “you’re doing so much, honey. just focus on your music and let me handle sage for a bit. she’ll have a blast with me today.”

you took a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you watched your mom gather sage’s diaper bag and blanket. “i’ll try to make it up to you later. maybe an early listen for you and dad once the album is done?”

“deal!” she said, her eyes twinkling as she scooped sage into her arms. “now, don’t worry i’ll make sure she gets some fresh air and maybe a little sunshine.”

as your mom headed out, you glanced around the kitchen before deciding to help yourself to some of your mother soup, you poured yourself a bowl and placed it in the microwave to warm while you darted to your room to change your top, the smell of sage's vomit from earlier not the most pleasant.

you grabbed the nearest thing; which happened to be lewis's hoodie and slipped it on before shuffling back to the kitchen right as the beep of the microwave sounded.

leaning against the kitchen counter, you took a few spoonfuls while mentally organizing your thoughts about the album. the chaos of the morning began to fade as you savored the warmth of the soup and the knowledge that you finally had a moment to yourself.

after finishing your bowl, you settled at the kitchen island perched on a stool, surrounded by sheets of lyrics and your laptop. you opened a blank document and stared at the screen, letting the silence wash over you. just as you were about to type, the shuffling of feet caught your attention as lewis appeared, still wrapped in his blanket.

“did you just eat soup without me?” he grumbled, his voice hoarse but playful.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of your husband. "you look like a raccoon that lost a fight with a rain cloud,” you teased lightly, but concern laced your words.

he padded over, his movements slow and deliberate, like a sloth navigating a jungle. you observed him, half-amused and half-concerned and before you knew it he'd wrapped himself around you from behind. "you smell like me" he mumbled.

"no kidding, i'm wearing your hoodie" you giggled and leaned against him, you'd already come to terms that you'd end up sick eventually considering you had a sick daughter and husband.

"i love it" lewis chuckled, tone exhausted against your skin, you relished the warmth of lewis’s embrace, the blanket still cocooning him like a protective layer against the world outside. it was a familiar comfort, and in that moment, the chaos of the morning felt like a distant memory.

“i figured it was only fair to wear something that smells like you,” you teased, looking up at him. “you know, to keep the raccoon vibe going strong.”

he chuckled softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “well, if we’re both going to be sick, at least we’ll do it in style.”

you pulled away slightly to face him, finding a small smile beneath his disheveled braided hair. “so, what’s up, what's got you up from the couch, you need a warm drink?”

“i’d love a hot tea, actually,” he replied, his voice still raspy.

"coming up, you look like you could use a solid nap bub.” you replied removing yourself from his grip "in bed where it's comfortable, i'll bring the tea to you"

“sounds perfect.” he shuffled towards your bedroom, where you could hear him dramatically collapsing onto the mattress with an exaggerated sigh. you couldn’t help but smile at the sound—he may have looked and sounded like a raccoon, but he was still your raccoon.

after brewing a cup of tea, you wandered to the bedroom where you pretended to trip and like you were going to spill it "don't you dare" he mumbled which just brought on a giggle from you.

“here you go, my darling husband, a cup of tea for your recovery.”

lewis took a grateful sip and closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the warmth. “you know, i’ve always believed in the healing powers of tea” he said, setting the mug down and looking at you with an earnest expression. “and i believe in you.”

you felt a rush of warmth at his words, a reminder of the bond that held you both together even amidst the chaos of parenthood and illness. “i’m trying to find a way to balance it all,” you admitted, running your fingers through your hair. “but some days feel like an uphill battle.”

“just take it one step at a time,” he encouraged, his voice gentle. “and remember, you’re not alone in this. we’re a team, right? just like we promised in our vows”

you nodded, the weight of his words grounding you. “yeah, a team, when your not a sick little bear. i just want to finish this album and maybe put something out there that captures everything we’re going through.”

"well maybe you could write a song about all of this,” he suggested, gesturing between the two of you. “the craziness, the love, the messiness of it all, it could be something really meaningful to both us and other parents"

his suggestion sparked a light within you, and you could almost feel the lyrics forming in your mind. “that’s actually a lovely idea,” you said, excitement bubbling up. “i want to capture everything—the sleepless nights, the laughter, the moments when everything feels like it’s falling apart, but somehow it all makes sense.”

lewis smiled, propping himself up on one elbow. “exactly, you could show the beauty in the chaos. i mean, look at us right now,” he gestured at his disheveled self and your slightly rumpled hoodie. “this is our life, and it’s messy, but it’s ours.”

you felt a swell of affection. “i love that about us. even when it’s tough, we manage to find the joy in the little things.”

“like this tea,” he said, taking another sip and savoring it with a blissful expression before sitting up and placing it on the bedside table “and this very comfy bed.”

you rolled your eyes playfully as he took a hold of you and pulled you closer, he was always so clingy when sick. “yes, yes. the tea and the bed are great, but don’t forget our amazing baby girl, she’s the best part of all this.”

lewis nodded, his gaze softening. “indeed, sage is our little miracle. she gives everything a new perspective.”

“she does” you tried to leave his hold, the creative spark igniting within you once more.

"where you going, this ain't over" lewis mumbled as he collapsed onto the bed and pulled you down with him, rolling around until you laid on your back and he was snuggled against your tummy, lifting the fabric of his hoodie to kiss at your skin,

"i want another one" he wished, he knew it was unrealistic to wish for another baby right now especially when sage was only half a year old but it's something that he desired so desperately.

you looked down at lewis, feeling a mix of warmth and surprise at his unexpected confession. “another one?” you echoed, brushing your fingers through his messy braids. “you know sage is still a tiny tornado of chaos, right?” you giggled.

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “i know, but just think about it. the laughter, the cuddles… it’s all so worth it. plus, roscoe will have another friend.”

you smiled, the image of sage with a little sibling and your dog roscoe as it danced around in your mind. it was a sweet thought, but also one that felt heavy with the realities of sleepless nights and diaper changes. “you’re dreaming, my love. we’ve got our hands full as it is.”

“i know, i know,” he said, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “but i can’t help it. i love being a dad, and i can’t imagine our family stopping here. it just feels… incomplete.”

his earnestness tugged at your heartstrings, and you felt a flutter of hope mingled with apprehension. “what if we wait a little while? just until we get the hang of this whole parenting thing?”

lewis sighed dramatically, flopping back down against your tummy. “You know i'm not patient when it comes to things i want love but i guess i can understand the need for a breather. i just love our little family so much.”

you stroked his hair, letting the moment linger. “me too. i love sage more than i ever thought possible and you. i mean, look at you being all sweet and cuddly while your sick.”

he grinned, his playful side shining through. “i’m not just sweet and cuddly. i’m also super attractive and charming.”

“true, true,” you laughed, shaking your head. “but don’t forget to add ‘sick raccoon’ to that list.”

“hey!” he protested, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know this raccoon is incredibly charismatic, i mean i pulled you.”

as you both chuckled, the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the weight of your earlier discussion hanging in the air. you felt your heart soften, realizing how much you cherished these moments of connection, even amidst the chaos.

“i guess i just want to make sure we’re ready,” you said after a beat, your tone more serious now. “sage is so little, and we still have so much to learn.”

lewis nodded, his expression thoughtful. “i get it. i don’t want to rush into anything either. i just want you to know how much i love this—us, our family and i’m excited about what the future holds.”

the sincerity in his voice warmed you, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “we’ll figure it out together my love, like we always do.”

“exactly. together,” he replied, grinning up at you. “and besides, when you start writing songs about our family, i’ll have all the inspiration i need for my own solo album.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “right, because that’s what the world needs—a collection of raccoon-inspired ballads by the worlds best formula one driver.” you giggled.

“i could make it happen,” he said, pretending to be deep in thought. “track one: ‘cuddles and chaos.’ track two: ‘diapers and driving.”

you burst into laughter, the tension from earlier dissipating completely. “okay, okay, maybe i’ll consider a collaboration, just don’t expect to go solo anytime soon.”

“fair enough,” he said, lifting his head again and looking serious for a moment. “but when the time comes for baby number two, just know that i’ll be ready.”

you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of his desire making your heart swell. “and i’ll be ready too, whenever that time comes but right now, i just want to enjoy sage and you—this moment.”

lewis smiled, that familiar warmth returning to his gaze. “that’s the best thing you've said all day" he replied.

as you both settled into the cozy embrace, the world outside faded away and in that space, this moment, it was just you, him, and the love you shared—a beautiful mess of laughter, dreams, and all the moments yet to come.

"i love you, you big teddy bear" you mumbled as he began to doze off while still clinging to your body, you truly couldn't have wished for a better life than the one you had, it was the best thing that had ever happened to you and you were determined to never lose it.

[devoutekuna]

Cooking with him.

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He can cook but chooses not to, why would he cook if he has a personal chef to himself. Stood in the kitchen as he searched for some fruit, daughter tracing the markings he had on his legs. "Daddy lets cook for mama" the thought of spending time with her father was the only reason she wanted to cook. "No" a straight no, she knew that he'd need some convincing though.

"But, I've seen mummy and Uraume cook, I can do it!" Grabbing onto his leg as he tried to walk off, acting as if she was too heavy to kick off. "No you can't! Your incapable of cooking" Looking down at the pink haired girl staring so profusely up at him, doing her puppy eyes which would win anyone over.

Cutting up a few onions from the dish, sat ontop of the counter as she placed the onion in her lap, knife inches away from her thigh. "Don't do that, it's stupid" putting the onion and knife on the table so that he could place her on the stool. "Don't be stupid" stood right beside her as she cut it up, it was going so painfully slow,he was starting to get tired especially since she had two more to go. Having the dismantle technique, of course he's gonna use it to his advantage, throwing the onion up in the air as it sliced, leaving diced cubes along the counter top. "Awe, you got it all over the counter daddy" trying to brush the vegetable into a pile. "Shut up, you were going to slow."

Nanami-

An expert as he cooks most nights, especially when your too tired to prepare meals for the week, it was a simple task to him. "Lemme help you papa!" Hands making it onto the counter as he kneaded the dough, eyes sticking up from behind the counter. Glancing down and the blonde realising she was on a stool, no wonder she got so tall, already got her hair tied back into a ponytail and apron on. "I'm almost done darling" he felt a bit bad but he was so busy so he wanted to finish this quickly.

"Please!" Her crys, only convincing him that she should help him, all he had to do was cook the rice after washing it and cook the chicken. "I mean, you can do the rice?" He didn't trust her much with food since he knew that she was just a toddler and would make a mess.

"Uh oh" seeing the rice poured down the drain, all of it in the sink rather than the bowl. Atleast half of it going through the drain pipe already. "What happened here?" It was bound to happen, he tried not to act annoyed but he definitely was.

Gojo-

He doesn't know anything about cooking since he rarely cooked for himself, if he did it would just be a precooked meal.

"Right, how small am I cutting this?" Glancing at you for some guidance here, a look of distraught and confusion on his face as she saw what he would be cutting up next. He was tasked with all the vegetables since you thought it would be easier for him rather than the meat which you tasked your son with. "Dice it Satoru" looking over his shoulder as you inspected how small it should be.

"Hurry up! Mum says the vegetables go in before the chicken!" He clearly took his father's personality when it came to patience. "I'm trying my best here!" Though he says that he's good at everything, he was horrible when it came to food. Grabbing another knife from the drawer as you helped him out, you were hungry and wanted food already.

Geto-

He was smart about it, giving her an easy task like stirring the pot, somehow she messed that up, hearing the clutter of a pot hitting the floor, body in the fetal position as she looked at the mess. "Uh oh" the sound of his daughter's voice made him respond quickly, hands on his hips as he scanned the mess on the ground, food spilled all over the floor, boiling water all over his new tiles too. "Sorry papa" feeling a bit bad for the mess. "It's fine" it clearly wasn't as that was one of the main dishes. "As long as you aren't hurt then we're good" nodding her head in response.

Toji-

"Your lucky I can't find my wallet" stuck cutting up some potatoes into long rectangular shapes. His daughter clearly was enjoying this, pouring a bottle full of oil into the pan. "No! That's too much baby" taking the bottle from her hands as she giggled, watching as the oil started to splatter up into his face, throwing a lid onto the pan.

"Turn it down!" Shouting at him, she had seen you do this multiple times, so she acted like the boss when it came to cooking. "It's on the lowest heat!" Going back to the cutting of the potatoes. "Hurry up daddy!" Slapping his leg as she jumped up and down, it was her first time being allowed in the kitchen whilst someone was cooking, let alone helping them.

It was a few minutes after he poured the potatoes into the pan, he didn't know anything about making chips so it was a new experience for him. "You took too long! Mummy woke up" she wanted to surprise you with her cooking skills, making you a plate of chips before you woke up.

[milaisreading]

Maybe Ness rambling about his interests, but gets quite thing y/n would think he's weird or annoying.

Y/n notices it and tell him that she loves seeing this side of him. Just overall someone loving ness as ness. My baby needs it 🤧🤧

🌱🩷: Hope u are fine with this!! Thanks for the request 🩷

Warning: Reader is crossdressing so I am using a mix of she/her and he/him. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'Kaiser... He isn't paying any attention to me... Ever since Isagi spoke back to him he has been more distant with me. He just tells me what to do. But, it's not like I can say anything back. I have nobody but him. He is my only friend-'

"Ness. Ness. Ness!"

The magenta-eyed boy shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard (Y/n)'s voice and felt her shake his shoulders.

"What?" Ness looked back at her, blinking in confusion as the girl raised an eyebrow.

"Are you ok? You look lost." He flinched at her words and glanced at Kaiser, who was annoying Isagi and Kurona.

"I am fine. Did you need anything?" Ness asked while looking back at her.

"Can I sit here and eat? Gesner and Grim want to sit here as well."

(Y/n) said as she pointed at the two boys behind her.

"Uhm... Sure." The boy nodded his head slowly as the three sat down and started eating.

"Are we practicing today?" Gesner wondered as he looked at (Y/n), who slowly nodded her head.

"Sure. You guys wanted to practice passes, anyway."

"Wait... You two are working with him? Are you betraying Kaiser?" Ness asked the two Germans with an irritated tone, earning a sigh from Grim.

"No, we are not. On the field we are on Kaiser's side, but off the field we hang out."

"Calm down, Ness. Nobody is going against the king, or whatever." Gesner laughed and continued eating. Ness growled a little in irritation, but stopped as (Y/n) put a plate on his tray.

"What is that?" Ness raised an eyebrow, recognizing that it was one of the chocolate puddings he liked at the facility.

"You told me you liked that pudding, you can have it. I am not much of a fan of it." (Y/n) shrugged, taking a bite from her rice and chicken. Ness' eyes widened for a moment and gulped as he looked down at the food.

"You... How did you know?"

"What do you mean how do I know?" (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and gulped down her food.

"You told me that. You said you liked it so much since that was what you mom made you when you were sick."

"You... You listened?" Ness asked in shock as (Y/n) slowly nodded her head.

"I might not look like it, but I do pay attention." She said, a little offended and started eating again.

The magenta-eyed boy could feel his heartbeat pick up for a moment as he stared at (Y/n), who was busy talking with Grim about something he couldn't catch.

'He cared enough to remember this... He cared enough to give me his dessert... Something Kaiser never did.' Ness glanced at the blonde and shook his head. No! He can't betray Kaiser like that! He shouldn't have someone else in mind! He slowly ate a spoon full of the pudding as a blush appeared on his face. For some reason, today's pudding tasted a lot sweeter.

'They probably changed the ingredients.'

Later...

"Haaa... Hair washing is so nice~" (Y/n) hummed to herself as she walked to her bed while drying he rhair with a towel. Ness looked away from one of his books he was reading and glanced at her instead.

"Why do you wash your hair always first and then shower?"

"Hm? I don't know. I always washed my hair first and then showered." She shrugged he shoulders and glanced at the book Ness was reading before she walked inside.

"What's that?" The girl stopped with the hair drying and looked in curiosity at the book. It was dark purple with a few golden stars on it. Ness at first thought she was joking, but the genuineness in her voice and eyes quickly told him something else. Taking in a deep breath, the boy contemplated for a moment.

'Should I tell him? Whatever, he will laugh at me either way...'

"It's a book I had ever since I was little. It's a story about witches and wizards."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened a little, surprised he was into those things.

"You like magic?"

Unconsciously, Ness smiled and nodded his head as he started going off on his explanation.

"Yeah! Ever since I was little I liked magic, magical creatures! The fantasy world is so interesting and the best way to escape everything! I have had this book since I was 7, actually! It talks about a boy who embarks on a journey to find- Oh..."

(Y/n) blinked as she saw Ness quickly shut up and look back at his book, face red in embarrassment.

"Embarks on a journey to find what exactly?"

"You were listening? Do you really want to know?"

Ness' head shot up to look at (Y/n) in surprise. This... this was the first time someone cared?

"Yeah? What is it about?"

'Weird. He has been acting off ever since this morning.' (Y/n) thought as Ness gave her a huge smile and started rambling about the story. The girl tried to keep up with what he was saying, nodding every once in a while and asking questions as signs that she was listening.

'Well, if it makes him happy.' She smiled a little, enjoying the rare moments of peace she had with the German.

This continued on for the next few days, Ness would talk about random interests he had with (Y/n) sharing some of her own. The boy would try to keep up with what she was telling him as he didn't want to come off as rude for not remembering anything. Noa, just like the rest of the team were surprised how much the usually bickering duo talked. It looked more like two friends talking than two guys who didn't like each other. And, while (Y/n) for the most part stayed oblivious, or enjoyed the peace, Ness did notice the shift. He noticed it when he would miss her presence during his practices with Kaiser, when she would leave him to eat with one of her Blue lock friends. He just felt alone. He didn't like it. But, Ness knew that things were meant to be like this. She served Isagi as his midfielder, and Ness was Kaiser's. There was nothing the German could do. Or, was there?

Ness felt weird ever since the match against PXG started. He didn't like the feeling of being stuck at Kaiser's side. He didn't like the closeness Charles and Shidou showed towards (Y/n). And most importantly, he didn't like her loyalty towards Isagi!

'I hate this! Why can't he score for himself?!' Ness gritted his teeth as he stole the ball from Shidou and looked ahead to where Kaiser was. This was the blonde's chance to make up for the failed goal from earlier!

'But...' Ness stopped and so did (Y/n) who as she looked at Ness in confusion.

'Why did he stop? Kaiser is right there.' She looked at the confused blonde, then back at Ness.

"Here! Do with it what you want! I don't care!'

The girl's eyes widened as Ness kicked the ball towards her. Hiori and Isagi were stunned as well as they looked at Ness, the boy hiding a blush and ignoring Kaiser's yells as (Y/n) kicked the ball towards Hiori who would assist this time.

"Ness?" The girl questioned as the boy ignored her as well.

'This isn't good for my heart at all!!' Ness yelled on the inside as he put his hand over his racing heart.

'I hate it so much that I love you!'

[astyrial]

ogling over onigiri osamu miya x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: osamu is short staffed and luckily for him, atsumu knows someone who can cook word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of food and cooking masterlist | requests are open

   "this is my kitchen, and i don't know her. so unless you have some magical thing that'll convince me to let her work in my kitchen, then no," osamu throws a hand towel over his shoulder, hands moving to rest on his hips.

  atsumu leans against the entrance of onigiri miya's kitchen, arms crossed. the kitchen is practically empty due to half of the people calling out sick. people are lining up outside due to a tweet that atsumu regrettably sent out advertising a new dish and his appearance. however, none of that happens to be the magic thing that'll convince osamu to let someone into his kitchen on an early saturday morning. 

  atsumu looks back at the curtained windows, all of the legs behind it. despite his squabbles with his brother, he doesn't want to be the one who helps tank his business. "well, i know someone who used to be a sous chef. she cooked for the team some meal plans sometimes. i think she could have the day off-"

  "you're going to call some woman on her day off and ask her to cook for my business? you can't just do that!"

  "she loves to cook, really, she'll be here in no time. trust me, she's the best chef out there right now. plus you need another cook, and i don't think you want me helping," atsumu stands up straight, reaching for his phone in his back jean pocket. 

  osamu purses his lips while rolling his eyes. of course he needs the help, he has the past few days. but to request someone to come work on such a busy day feels wrong, inappropriate. "just tell her that she absolutely doesn't need to, and we're okay if she doesn't want to. i don't want you pressuring anyone," osamu was always stubborn, but even more so when he's affecting someone he hardly knows. 

  before a sudden realization that this is completely wrong and he shouldn't be doing this, his brother is already in the other room on the phone with you. osamu certainly can't hear your end of the phone call. however, he can hear the 'thank you's' leaving atsumu's lips. meaning that some random chef that he has never met likely took atsumu up on his offer.

  "she's getting ready now, you have twenty more minutes til you open. so, i'll let her through the back door while you work," atsumu stuffs his phone back into his pocket, looking over at his brother.

  it's hard for the two to get along, usually they'd be fighting tooth and nail right now. however, there's something in the air causing a civil conversation. the two immediately start getting the kitchen prepped (which means atsumu cracking jokes while osamu has one of the cashier workers help). 

  osamu starts up some rice on a zojirushi machine, washing and cutting up some vegetables. time was ticking down as atsumu gave you the address, telling you that the shop would open in five minutes. he looks back at atsumu, not knowing what he would do if you couldn't make it. a part of him feels bad for taking you away from your day off, but the rest of him is just happy to have a helping hand.

  luckily for him, this helping hand knocked on the back door, the sound feeling like music to osamu's ears. "i got it!" atsumu announces over the noise of people entering the front of the shop. 

  the sound of someone opening the back door and saying hello to atsumu brings his head up. he sets his knife down, hands on the prepping station. you come walking into the kitchen, atsumu quickly following behind. his eyes meet yours and for a second the world stops. every ounce of anxiety from the day washes away as you give him a soft smile. 

  "you must be osamu? well miya, if you're more comfortable with that. my name is l/n y/n, if atsumu hasn't told you already," you reach out your hand to shake his, only to move it back quickly once you realize that you need to wash your hands. 

  osamu's mouth hangs slightly open, just so that you could see the bottom of his top row of teeth. he's mesmerized, even if he won't admit it himself, "he hasn't- and osamu's fine. it's nice to meet you l/n, i'm sorry for pulling you out here on your day off. it's completely unacceptable and if i could repay somehow with dinner or something-"

  you shake your head, looking around the room for a second before finding the sink. as you're turned around, making sure that you're ready to make food, atsumu is slapping his brother's shoulder. he raises his eyebrows a couple times, giving him a quick wink. before you could turn around, atsumu whispers something about dinner.

  "did you say something?" you ponder, turning your attention to the brothers as you dry your hands.

  "he was just asking if you knew how to make certain types of onigiri, because of your experience," osamu gives his brother a glare, trying to hide it as he looks back at you. 

  you grab an apron off of his wall and begin tying it around yourself. "yes, known since i was ten. i used to make them for the team with brown rice and miso beef, because of the digestive health benefits. however, white or jasmine are always preferable," an even warming smile spreads across your lips, making your way over to the workstation beside osamu.

  before either of you could say anything else, the first order has come through. it's oyakodon, a rice meal with chicken and egg. you've made it hundreds of times as a sous chef and it's a fairly easy process once you get the hang of it. a screen displays the food choice in front of you, leaving you to look over at osamu, a little nervous.

  "i assume you store your chicken in the fridge?" 

  "yeah- sorry, usually people are stationed in different areas to work on certain things but with everyone out-"

  "it's fine, i've worked in stickier situations before," you take a look around the room and start off towards the fridge, eyes peering for the stovetop next.

  osamu looks off at you, heart beating quickly. he takes in a deep breath and watches as the next order comes through. it's an onigiri, salmon in the middle, a rather simple recipe. despite his wandering eyes to where you're prepping your food, he attempts to keep his mind set on the food in front of him.

  the first few orders were rather simple for osamu, mostly onigiri and sushi. your oyakodon being the most complicated thing of that morning. it's clear your good at what you do, even if your working in a completely different environment. 

  he peaks over at you as you let out a slight hum in your voice to the music playing over the speakers. you're swaying a little as you add part of the egg mixture to the pan. if it weren't for the circumstances, a part of osamu knows that he'd ask about dinner again. he'd lean against some counter and cross his arms in front of his chest, give you a soft smile that you can't say no to.

  "osamu, you almost done with that?" 

  he looks up from you, over to one of the cashiers staring him down, "yeah, finishing up now!"

  after that, he begins to focus more on his work. only looking over at you as he waits for another order to come in. sometimes you'll inquire about something, where something may be or what spices to add. you're a harder worker than he could've expected from someone he's never met (especially someone that atsumu is so close with). the way you get things accomplished making him even more attracted. 

  "l/n, you're doing great, thanks for helping today," osamu mentions as the lunch rush dies down to just a few people, atsumu's influence having ended.

  you look over at him, wiping your hands against the apron, a soft smile lining your lips. even after working hours in a hot, stuffy kitchen, there's a beauty to you that osamu's never seen. "well, if i'm calling you osamu, then it's only fair you call me y/n. plus, i'd love dinner if your request was genuine," you place on hand on your hip, eyebrows raised.

  osamu nods, "well- y/n, it most definitely was genuine. what do you feel like eating?"

  "i think onigiri would be delicious for dinner."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 10 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Graphic aftermath of domestic abuse and sadly typical post abuse love bombing

AN: Listen- see those warnings above? I fuckin mean it. If you're not in the right headspace or you need to walk away for a bit, do so. This shouldn't need stating but I will anyway, Laurence is a terrible man and his views are not that of my own.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Honey, I’m home!” Laurence’s voice pulled you from the darkness you had taken shelter in, beating it back with a razor wire wrapped bat. Now it was time to be awake, to perform the song and dance of a wife. The time for rest was done. 

You sat on the floor, at the foot of the stairs, though you had no memory of actually making it down them at any point. There were large black spots in your memory, almost as big as those you blinked from your vision. 

Blinking the eye that still worked, you tried to make your mind work. The cogs in your mind felt rusted, seized, as if they hadn’t turned in years, long abandoned and forgotten. 

The shadows were growing long across the floor as the day came to a close. So much time had been lost, slipping from your fingers. If you were stronger, you would have been able to hold on to the fleeting hours. You hoped Laurence wouldn’t be angry that the cleaning hadn’t been done. 

Dinner. You hadn’t started dinner, had you? You couldn’t remember. Hopefully, you had. Laurence needed to be fed. He worked hard, long hours to provide for you. It was your duty. 

His footsteps were heavy across the warm wood floors he hated so much. Anxiety grew in you with every footfall, but you couldn’t do much more than groan in protest. Standing, you willed yourself but you couldn’t. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe. 

“Oh, honey,” Laurence knelt by your side, brushing hair out from your face with a tender hand. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I couldn’t,” you croaked out the words, throat raw and dry, “get the washing done.” 

Laurence’s arms hooked under your legs and scooped behind your back. He lifted you, cradling you against his chest as he carried you to the small breakfast nook just inside your kitchen. There was a sweet smell that clung to the neck of his shirt. Floral. You liked it. Where had it come from?

“I brought you dinner,” Laurence said as he settled you onto the padded bench. “I figured you weren’t much for cooking tonight, so I treated us. It took calling in some favors but I’ve got the roast chicken from that diner you love so much.” 

The act of kind consideration touched you more than it should have. A tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a wet trail. It was always like this, after. Laurence would care, after. He was soft, after. Always after. 

You slumped in your seat as Laurence set a glass of water in front of you. He left you alone, heavy steps taking him through the house. He walked through the house as if he hadn’t been the force behind your blood splatter on the stairs. Was that abnormal? Did other wives wake loose hours or days after an argument with their husbands? That’s all that was, right? Just an argument? 

If it had been anything more than an argument, what did that mean? It was better to not think about that. Your hand trembled as you brought the water to your lips, letting the cool liquid pour down your raw throat, washing away the question as you tried to ignore the way your little finger didn’t move quite right, didn’t sit quite right. 

Laurence came back into the kitchen, humming as he carried a ceramic baking dish and set it on the counter. You could count on one hand the number of times he had dished up a meal, but you said nothing as you watched him portion roasted chicken, vegetables, and rice onto plates. 

You remembered back to the dinner you had prepared for Alastor, how the guest helped serve instead of Laurence. You tried to not think about Alastor or of how your husband had embarrassed you, letting a guest serve the meal when you hadn’t been fast enough. You blinked the thoughts away as Laurence settled into the seat next to you. 

Scooping some rice onto the fork, you tried to keep your hand steady while you brought it to your lips. Most of the rice fell off and what didn’t was pushed off by your lips as you struggled to open your mouth. Your jaw hurt. Your lips hurt. It hurt to open your mouth. 

“Honey, let me help you.” Laurence’s hand was soft as he wrapped it around yours. 

He took the fork from you and fed you like you were some small child. You watched passively as he shredded the chicken, feeding stands through lips you struggled to part. Black dots swam in front of your vision, blocking out the view of Laurence cutting the food. Would you fall over? 

You mashed what you could with your tongue, avoiding working your jaw more than you had to. Laurence helped you wash down each small bite with a bit of water. Every time you swallowed a bite, he had another ready for you, not giving you a chance to do more than gasp a breath between bites. Eating was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep again. 

“You have to eat,” Laurence said, hand resting on your back as he scooted closer to you. “You need to eat so you can heal.” 

“Yes, Laurence.” It felt like you were speaking through cotton balls as you looked at him. You had to look at Laurence when you talked to him. He didn’t like it when people didn’t look at him when they spoke to him. Fear coursed through you as your eye looked into his bright blue eyes.

His hand came to rest on your face, a touch soft as the way he looked at you, brows knitted together in clear concern. For a moment, you thought his eyes were brown. Warm brown eyes and soft hair and then you blinked. No, it was just Laurence, the man who caused the damage, looking at you with pity and sorrow but not an ounce of guilt. 

“You know I’m sorry, right?” Laurence’s thumb ran over the swelling in your face. “I just, you make me so mad sometimes. I love you so much. The thought that you’d want him instead of me…” 

You said nothing. What was there to say? You didn’t forgive him, but that didn’t matter. It would do no good to tell him that when you faded in and out, it was someone else’s eyes you saw in the place of your husband’s. Another tear fell from your eyes, tracing a messy line down the swelling in your face as you wondered why your mind dared to betray you now. 

“You make me so crazy,” Laurence said, standing up from the bench after he decided you had eaten enough. “It happened because I love you.” 

Laurence disappeared into the living room again before returning. He had a bouquet, large and wrapped in colorful paper. Small blooms surrounded a wide arrangement of a dozen bright red roses, all expertly picked, arranged, and tied together, held in the hands of the man that had ruined your last floral arrangement.

“I got these for you because I love you,” Laurence said, setting them on the table in front of you. 

You picked them up mechanically, looking at them. The corners of your mouth twitched up in a mockery of a smile. It was good enough for him, though usually such a poor performance would earn you the back of his hand. 

Laurence hummed as he took the flowers, unwrapped them and put them in water. 

“Oh, honey-” Laurence rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be working late for at least the next week. The radio station liked our marketing plan so much they wanted more.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said through swollen lips. Maybe with the success Laurence would let you buy a mechanical washing tub. Having one of those would be mighty helpful right about now. 

“Do you ever tire of fetching Mimzy’s dresses?” Susan asked as she packed up yet another custom dress. She hated working on the woman’s designs. They were off fashion, unique and a proper pain in the ass. 

“Is there something bothering you, Susan?” Alastor leaned on the counter, not taking her bait. “Neighborhood boys got you in a bad mood? Want ol Al to put them in their place again? Or is there actually something on your mind?” 

The woman behind the counter huffed, shoving her brown waves back before running her hands down her face. Her elbows rested on the counter on either side of the bag. 

“Boss bothering you?” Alastor asked as he pulled Mimzy’s bag to him. 

“Not any more than usual,” Susan sighed. “Remember Mrs. Latimer? With the bloody nose?”

“How could I forget you overcharging me for a handkerchief?” Alastor leaned on the counter, arms crossed as they spoke like conspirators. 

“I charged you what the boss wants me to charge everyone.”

“Which is too much,” Alastor countered, smile growing wider.

“You could go somewhere else,” Susan snapped, “And take Mimzy with you.” 

“And miss out on your lovely face?” Alastor chuckled, “I would never. Now what’s got your mood more sour than a lemon and what’s it got to do with Mrs. Latimer?”

“She hasn’t been by to pick up her dress. It was due for pick up three days ago. Ticket’s unpaid too. Boss just loves that. He’s been down my neck about it. Sen’t out a notice, but I’m not sure what he expects me to do about it.” 

“Is that so?”

“I don’t-” Susan sighed, “I don’t talk about what I see or the things I know about people in town. But I repair a lot of torn shoulders for Mrs. Latimer. I’m worried about her.”

“Torn shoulders?” Alastor hummed. 

“Don’t ask me to explain. I won’t.” 

“Let me get her dress,” Alastor was already pulling his wallet back out. “I’ll pay the ticket and bring it to her. I’m sure she’s fine, just under the weather.” 

Alastor had stood across the street from the Latimer home long enough to be sure that the man of the house was not home. He could see that someone was moving around inside before crossing the street. He walked swiftly up the pathway to the front door and rapped his knuckles against the dark blue door.

He waited, listening to the chirping of the birds and the rumble of a car in the distance. When you failed to answer, he knocked again, harder this time. The fluttering of curtains in the window told him someone was peeking out. 

He knew it wasn’t Laurence. Unless you had gotten a pet or had guests, it was you. 

So why did you not answer the door?

“Mrs. Latimer?” Alastor calls for you, thinking twice about using your given name while on the street. “I’ve got a delivery for you. Susan sent me.” 

“Just leave it outside,” your voice muffled too much for just coming through the door, “Thank you.” 

Alastor leaned closer to the door, speaking softer, but still clearly intending for her to hear him. “You’ve not picked up your dress. Susan’s worried for you, as am I.” 

“Susan?” 

“The seamstress from Markin’s tailor?” Alastor offered, bemused that someone could not have an annoyingly close relationship with the woman regardless of if they wanted to or not. Alastor had known her since they were children and it seemed he could never shake her. “I’m not leaving until you open this door. She’ll skin me alive if I don’t tell her I laid eyes on you and verified one of her best customers is indeed safe and sound.”

“I,” you hesitated inside your home, a block of ice wrapped in cloth hanging from your hand. The swelling had gone down, but the ice soothed the pain still. “I can’t, Alastor.” 

“I’m not leaving, so you may as well open this door. I’ll stand here all day if I need to.” Alastor’s lips twitched into a wider smile as he heard the lock on the door and watched the doorknob turn. 

You peeked through the opening. “I’m fine, see? Now-” 

Alastor leaned to the side, giving himself a better view of you. You watched his face drop from the smile he seemed to wear, and you knew in that moment he had seen too much. 

“Fuck,” the word was soft, spoken under his breath and not intended for your ears, but you caught the naked truth of it. 

He saw. 

“Let me in.” His voice was little more than a tense hiss, but it lacked the threat of Laurence’s voice. Alastor didn’t wait for you to decide if you were going to allow him in, though. 

As you readied your words of protest, Alastor looked each way and shoved the door open enough for him to slip inside. The force knocked you to the side, but you had no strength to put up any sort of fight.

This was wrong, you thought as the door squeaked. Improper. You were alone with him, or you would be if he dared to close the door. It stood open, just enough for his frame to have slipped through, though someone could still see. 

He looked at you as if he was seeing someone else. A few heartbeats passed before he shut the front door behind him, sealing you off.

Alone. Laurence would kill you if he had found out, but in the haze and fog of pain, you struggled to care beyond the sharp spike of fear. It was done. 

“Did he do this to you?” Deep shadows settled on Alastor’s face. Rage, an emotion that looked wholly misplaced and yet right at home, settled over his face in place of the smile he usually wore. 

You shrugged, not brave enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Alastor reached out, fingers ghosting over the dark blue bruises over your eye, “If I had to bet, I’d say it’s likely worse than it looks.” 

“It’s fine.” You needed Alastor to leave, “I’m healing. Please, you need to go.”

“I’m helping you,” Alastor’s lips twitched up into a calm smile, “Because it is my fault, isn’t it?” 

“No! No, not at all.” 

“The flowers were too much of a risk,” Alastor did not outright say sorry, but the words were written on his face. “I’ve patched my fair share of people up.” 

Somehow, you found yourself led through your house as if you were the guest. Alastor’s hand was light against your back, only a slight pressure when you would hesitate. It was hard to hesitate for more than a few moments. The pain and fatigue stole the fight from you. 

Alastor pulled the chair from your workstation toward the center of your kitchen and lightfully pushed you to sit in it. It was surreal seeing him in your space as if it was his once again. 

With a start, you realized how improper this really was. You were alone with a man that was not your husband. What’s worse, you were alone in your home with him and your husband didn’t know. You had no intention of telling Laurence, and that made it all the worse. 

It didn’t matter if nothing happened between you. If Laurence found out Alastor was in his home without a third party to ensure things were proper, you would be branded an adulteress. He could leave you ruined in society. Your family would disown you.

“It’ll be worse if he finds out you came.” 

Alastor seemed to hear your whispered words easily as he put a kettle of water on the stove to warm, though he disregarded them. He opened drawers until he found the kitchen rags instead of responding to your protest. 

You sat quietly as you watched Alastor pick herbs from the little pots that sat in your kitchen window. He put the leaves between two layers of the rag and grabbed your heavy stone rolling pin. Leaning forward to put his weight into it, he rolled it along the cloth until there was a slight green color to the white kitchen cloth. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Something Ma taught me.” You smiled softly at his words. Though he still spoke in that irritatingly perfect transatlantic accent, he called his mother ‘Ma’. “It’ll help prevent infection in your lip.”

You wanted to ask him how he knew about patching up beaten women, why his mother needed to teach him how to prevent infection beyond washing a cut, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. He was too kind of a man to have a childhood where a harsh man’s hands left bruises and weeping wounds. 

“When do you expect him back?” Alastor asked as he dipped the folded rag into the steaming water. After squeezing the water out, he took the wrapped chunk of ice from you and re-wrapped it with the damp green tinged cloth. 

“Usually just before dinner,” you answered, “But he said he’s probably going to be working late on the extra work for the station.”

“Extra work for the station?” Alastor scoffed but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t ask, though you wanted to. It wasn’t the place of a woman to insert herself into the affairs of men. 

“I’ll be gone before he’s back. I didn’t park near either. He won’t know.” 

You wanted to trust him. There was no energy left to argue with him about it. 

Alastor took the damp rag that had been wrapped around the ice and dropped it into the kettle. He waited for a moment before fishing the rag out and ringing the water out. How it didn’t burn his hands, you did not know.

“Hold this to your eye.” He tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. The action was strangely intimate. Softly, he pressed the warm cloth against the bruised skin. “After the first two days, heat is better to treat bruises. Helps your body break it down so it’ll fade faster.” 

“I didn’t know that,” you were not sure what to say to Alastor at that moment. Instead, you slowly reached up with your other hand to take the rag from him, folding your fingers over his hand as best you could with your little finger still not working right. 

Alastor noticed your finger, sitting out at an angle from the others as your hand ghosted over his. As he let you take the rag yourself, he leaned forward to get a better look at the finger. 

Your heart beat hard in your chest as his face drew closer to yours. You could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, making them look like freshly tilled soil. He had his attention focused on your hand, but the way his hair had just a little more curl at the root, giving it more volume, captivated yours. His long lashes framed his eyes, such a normal color, and yet you couldn’t look away.

“It looks like your finger is just dislocated.” his words were soft. His breath ghosted over you, bitter coffee rich in it. “It’ll hurt, but if you don’t relocate it, it will just get worse.”

“What’s a little more pain?” You tried to sound brave, but your voice still faltered. 

Alastor nodded before rummaging through your kitchen again. He came back with twine as he fished a small folding pocketknife from his pocket. He dropped another rag into the kettle before taking both the rag and hand over your eye in his hand. 

You marveled at how much bigger his hand was than yours as he plucked the rag from your palm and tossed it into the kettle easily. He held your hand close to his face, using his fingers to feel how the bones sat under your skin. 

“Three.” He said, taking your hand in both of his. 

“Two.” He wrapped his fingers carefully around your pinky. You took a deep breath, clenching your teeth together and held it.

“One.” He pulled your finger out and toward the rest of your hand with a strong, steady pressure. 

It wasn’t slow, and for that you were thankful. Pain swirled in your head as you cried out. And then, with a pop, you could instantly feel relief. The joint throbbed, but the pain was duller now..

You didn’t realize you were swaying until Alastor’s hands on your shoulders steadied you. “Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” was all you could say, “I’m okay.” 

Alastor nodded, dropping his hands from you but stood, watching you for a few moments longer before fishing a rag out of the hot kettle with tongs. 

“Give your lip a break from the ice,” he directed over his shoulder as he worked water out of the rag using the side of the kettle and the tongs. He clumsily folded it on the counter, pinching the steaming edges of the fabric and flipping them over. 

As he tossed the folded cloth between his hands a few times, you pulled the cloth from your lip. He folded the cloth in his hands one more time before resting it against your bruised eye again, holding it to your darkened skin until your fingers slipped under his hand. 

Then his face was once again too close to yours. Your heart pounded as he looked at your lip closer, directing your head this way and that with a few fingers under your chin. 

Never in your life had you been this close to a man who was not your father or your husband. All it would take was leaning just a little forward and your lips would be on his. Such a silly thought that was. The pain was surely getting to you. 

If someone walked in and saw him holding you like this, they would think he was about to kiss you, and that thought wasn’t so silly. Fear flooded you as your eyes ripped from his to glance at the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” Alastor whispered, “We’ve got plenty of time still.” 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked, dressing gown clutched to your chest as you held the back of your blouse up for Alastor, trying to preserve as much of your modesty as you could. 

He had insisted on checking the rest of your injuries and you don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it would make him leave sooner? Maybe it just felt better to be taken care of. While Laurence had provided a meal, flowers and water, he hadn’t provided any actual care for the injuries themselves. 

“Because no man should lay a hand on his wife.” Alastor spoke around the end of the bandage he had gripped in his teeth. “I don’t enjoy seeing it and I enjoy causing it even less. You deserve better.”

“But it’s what it is. I’m his,” Alastor only hummed at your words, passing the bandage to your side. You took it and wrapped it around your front, passing it back to him on the other side, where he pulled it tight. The pressure around your ribs was comforting, just as he promised it would be. 

You still were not sure it was worth being in such an indecent position with him. He said nothing of the yellow and green bruises you knew were on your back, healing marks from prior times you had disappointed your husband. 

“What are you doing later this week?” Alastor asked, breaking the tense silence that fell between you while he finished wrapping your ribs. “While he is working?” 

“Cleaning,” you weakly shrugged. “Cooking. Healing. Being a wife.”

“And if you took a break from that?” Alastor felt the adrenaline trickle into his system just as it did whenever he took a risk while hunting. Interesting. Unexpected. He filed that reaction away to examine later. 

“What?”

“I’ve spent all afternoon here patching you up. I was supposed to go pick up some curtains.” 

“I’m so sorry!” You sucked in a breath as he tied off the bandages. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I know just the way!” Alastor’s voice returned to the cheer you had grown to associate with him. It had been subdued in the last few hours and you had missed it. Its absence had left you feeling tense. “Why don’t you assist me in making the selection? My home is dearly missing a woman’s touch. We can go next week, so you’ve had a chance to heal.” 

“It wouldn’t be-”

“Proper, sure it would. We’ll be in public and I can assure you that Laurence wouldn’t find out. Just you, me and the rest of the shoppers.” 

“Alright,” you chewed your lip, “If you’re sure he won’t find out… I could assist and then we’ll be even? The debt paid?” 

Next? Masterlist

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[diejager]

We need more Dark!Captain Price please!!

Behave, Love

Pairing: Dark! Captain John Price x fem!reader

Cw: implied smut, DARK, IMPLIED NON-CON, possessive behaviour, kidnapping, kinda Stockholm syndrome, captive reader, mean Price, punishment, basement wife?, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.6k

“We have guests tonight, love,” he told you this morning before leaving.

That was a warning, the only one you needed to understand what you were told - ordered - to do. You spent the morning cleaning up, wiping off the nonexistent dust from the shelves, washing off the clean tables and surfaces around the house that you’d cleaned yesterday after he called to tell you that he was coming home. The following hours were spent vacuuming the wooden floor and mopping up any nano-spill of some kind. Only after the long hours you took to clean every speck of dust in your shared home, did you start cooking.

Price was a simple man in the things he liked, he might’ve been strategic in his plays and his decisions, down to the smallest aspects of each mission, or preferring his gun or knives maintained in a specific way that was his only, but anything at home, he liked simple. Perhaps it was a blessing for you, never spending time learning how to cook or bake, your training took up all your time and any free time you had was spent resting or on extra training. He liked well-rounded meals, having meat, vegetables and a bit of spice on his plate with rice or fries on the side.

You dread the moments he leaves as much as the giggle of the knob, leaving meant that he’d be watching you remotely, from the small screen of his phone with alarms and countermeasures against your escape - to which you’ve tried and failed many times, the severity of his punishment racking up from an hour in the dark basement to being tied up and tortured to overstimulation of a fake cock moulded to replicate Price’s cock - and his return would leave you at the mercy of his prying eyes and hungry mouth, letting his hands trace the scars that littered your skin. Any sign of disgust: shuddering, flinching or freezing would get you some time in the basement. 

He pulled you from years of training, the result of your blood sweat and tears gone with the flick of Price’s wrist. He had you discharged and had you move in with him - how fortunate you’ve been living on base without an apartment outside of the compound, you saw no use for it if you’d rarely be home - even though you fought against him, tooth and nail. Yet that only landed you in time out - or so he called it. 

“We’re going to get married, love,” he told you, a bright smile hidden under his beard, a wishful gleam in his eyes. 

You weren’t only getting married, you were signing off your body and soul to your captor to become a glorified housewife. From a private to a housewife, how saddening, you couldn’t help that self-deprecating attitude rather than the confidence and strength that were beaten into you during training. 

Any connection to the outside world was cut off, Price made sure that you wouldn’t have any way to contact your family without his supervision - he had you call them once a month to reassure them that you were safe and happy with your new life - or the authorities, not that they’d listen to you with The Captain John Price and his decorated background. Granted, you had a TV to entertain yourself in moments of boredom or the book-filled wall in the living room, even a few recreational activities he wanted you to practise: knitting, sewing, cooking and baking.

Naturally, you turned to cooking and baking as a way to pass the time, leaving the radio or the TV on as background noise to fill the depressing atmosphere. With time, you’d grown more comfortable in the kitchen and Price could trust you with more complicated dishes, even being excited to eat a homemade dinner when he came home. He liked meat, so you read about different meaty dishes - especially with the notion of the other coming over for the afternoon - with good portions of vegetables. 

You moved around the island, setting the table with plates and cups, knives, spoons and forks on the sides with a bowl of fries in the middle. The steaks were almost done, sizzling besides the warm sauce you were boiling after cracking the can. The beans and mashed potato were already set on each plate, waiting for the juicy meat and sauce you worked on, hoping that you’d be finished on time for Price to get home. You hoped Price would be nicer to you while the men ate, nothing too rash or possessive from him during their stay.

The lock clicked as you placed the final piece, the rattle of keys and the familiar steps of Price’s heeled shoes were - unless you missed his soft “I’m home, love.” - the usual sounds you’d hear when he came home, the only indications that you were never truly able to relax.

“Welcome home, John,” you returned, greeting him with a small kiss on the corner of his lips, his bushy beard irritating your cheeks. 

He leaned down, chasing you for a second, deeper kiss, his teeth catching your lower lip before he moved aside to let his coworkers enter. 

“Ma’am,” Gaz jumped in, lowering his cap in a mock bow to you.

Being called ma’am made you feel old and married. While you were married, you were a year or two younger than him with him having an authority over you on base. You didn’t necessarily know him before your discharge, only catching a few glances when either of you were passing through the gym or shooting range, or when you crossed paths in the halls or mess hall. Perhaps in another universe, you would’ve been friends or teammates by chance. You swallowed down a sigh that threatened to slip from your pursed lips.

Soap followed closely behind Gaz with a boisterous greeting of his own, his smile infectious and giddy. How couldn’t you smile back at him when he seemed so happy to be here, you couldn’t bear to break his heart, his puppy-like joy. You shook his hands, they were as firm as the last time, his fingers more calloused and harder on the tips from the many deployments between their last visit. Ghost was a step behind everyone, giving you a quick but welcoming nod, his eyes softening at the dark bags under your eyes. 

“Come in, I was just about finished.”

Without so much of a complaint, they sat down, watching you pour the brown sauce over their plate. Price - as always - sat at the head of the table, watching you and his team from his vantage point. Ghost sat to his left with Soap beside him and Gaz on the opposite from him, taking the seat to your right. The seat to Price’s right was always reserved to you whenever you were present, a rule he imposed himself. He could easily hold your hand while it rested on the table, he could sneakily place his firm hand on your thigh, or he could send you a quiet message through the corner of his eye, something so discreet that not even Ghost noticed.

Dinner with 141 was always animated, with Soap and Gaz throwing jabs at each other and Ghost jumping in with a few jokes of his own - though they were the usual dark and morbid humour that he thrived on - while Price watched over it all, a proud smile adorning his face as his thumb brushed your knuckles. You could see the fatherly joy in his eyes whenever everyone was at the table, this joy that almost made you happy that you were part of this small family - almost. You couldn’t forget the pain and harrowing sadness that clouded your mind every day, Price’s influence on your life becoming the looming shadow that kept you locked away from the freeing sun.

“It was tidy, bonnie!” Soap thanked you, collecting the plates while the rest helped around.

“Thank you, Johnny.”

While you washed the dishes, burly arms reached around your waist and locked fingers, pushing his chest to meet your back. He hummed a comforting tune, peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses, playing the loving and caring husband he was to the rest of the world. Laying his head on your shoulder, he was content with watching you work, ears listening to the chatter in the room and your beating heart, a calm and soft beat that soothed his nerves. 

“A right delight,” Price breathed out, hips swaying side to side in a drawl dance, rocking you along with him. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, mumbling praises for your behaviour and playing the husband he wanted to be - was. He was gentler with you, his strong arms holding you lovingly and expressing his devoted obsession with you with kisses and whispers. It was a side you saw often, Price being the ever-loving man he vowed to give you on the day of your marriage, the other one was the possessive and obsessive man who wanted your everything, your mind, body and soul. That side of him was given to you when you misbehaved, when you did something to displease him or when he deemed you worthy of punishment.

The other rarely saw their captain acting so soft and loving, even toward them, his little, ragtag of a team. Although it was something to be proud of, unendingly happy because at least one of them finally settled down, who were they if they couldn’t jab at Price, just a bit.

“Growing old, Cap’? You look like a romantic sap,” Gaz snickered, watching Price narrow his eyes in mocked anger through squinted eyes.

“Aye, I dinnae yer were a bodach,” Soap elbowed Gaz, failing to hold back his cackle, head tilted back and arms around his abdomen.

“English, Johnny.”

Price huffed, shoulders shaking with his own laughter.

“Oh, sod off,” he spat, lips stretched in a snarky smile. “Am I an old sap, love?” 

He clung to you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt

“ ‘Course not, John. Maybe romantic, but not old.”

Calling him old wouldn’t do him or you any good, especially since you were married to him, a man over a decade older than you; and calling him romantic would be a lie thrown to the face, at least to you. Price would call himself a romantic man and preen about his rugged, yet gentlemanly character, his hands calloused and loving, his mouth praising and biting, his eyes ravaging and devoted, his acts protective and possessive. How Price would proclaim himself as the perfect husband - he said he was the day he dropped you the discharge letter - and how lucky you were to wound yourself with him rather than any boy your age. 

Price chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back as he tightened his hold around you. He liked your reply, that wide smile pressed to your throat with nipping kisses made you aware of his joy. You rocked back against him, dancing along the lazy sway of his hips, you were catering to his whims to stay safe and alive. His training wasn't for nothing, carved into the seams of your mind with every thrust of his cock or the silicone mimic of his cock. You learned quickly that if Jonathan Price was happy, you’d be safe and unharmed, so you aimed to please him and keep him happy.

If it meant playing the reciprocating and happily married wife to their captain, you’d do that. There wasn’t any loss of dignity and pride in wanting to feel safe, wanting to ignore how his hands gripped you too firmly or how your skin was littered with painful bruises after a rough night. To the Task Force, you were a willingly discharged soldier who became a housewife for their hardworking captain and your loving husband. The gold band carved with curved and intricate words added to the illusion of your perfect life. 

It made you want to scream and pull your hair out at how trusting they were of Price. All and any man had his darkness, that ugly need buried under the mass of duty and morality that made them who they were, but if let loose, they could be like Price, another monster wearing the skin of a man.

You couldn’t help squinting your eyes in a silent plea to the men, watching them drink and laugh merrily without a fault. Being a witness to their bountiful smile and full-bellied laughter when you were glued to your captor by the hip, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you to him. Laying your head on his shoulder as the bottle of whiskey grew lighter and lighter over time, the golden liquid rolling down their throat with a comforting burn after a long week at work. The little glances Price sent your way were reminders for you to behave until the end, his fingers curling over a healing bruise from when he held you too tightly, pussydrunk with his head between your thighs.

You smiled and nodded, going along with whatever they were chatting about, from meaningless affairs to slightly classified subjects. Nothing was off the table with you, they trusted Price enough to trust you with sensitive subjects and they all liked you, someone who could relate to their cause and understand their pains. Perhaps that played a part in his obsession with you.

Even when they stood on your doorstep with slurred speech and hooded eyes, they were always aware of their situation and minds sharp, but they were blind to your plight. Gaz and Soap shook hands with Price, the darker Brit bowing to lift his cap in a familiar salute: “‘Night, ma’am.”

“Thanks fer the meal, bonnie.”

“It’s always a pleasure having you over, Johnny.”

Ghost waved at you from the driving seat, he drank less comparatively to the other men, being designated as the driver between them. You send him a tired grin with a wave of your own, still within Price’s grasp. You looked on beside him as Ghost drove off, returning to base with two drunken sergeants in his custody. With them gone and the door shut and locked - bolted down with keys and codes only he had access to - he pulled you to his chest, rumbling out praises with his deep, soothing voice. 

 “You were so good today, love,” he pressed his lips against yours, hand cupping your nape with a slow lave of his tongue to deepen the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

He dragged you away, feet hanging on your toes to follow his movement while letting him press for more kisses, growing passionate and stealing your breath. You clung to him, fingers clawing at his form-fitting shirt as you walked backwards, stepping into your shared room. He blindly kicked the door shut, throwing you to the bed with a rough push. He stared at you through lidded eyes, bouncing on the bed as you scrambled to get your footing before he straddled your hips between his thick thighs, rutting his covered hardness against your stomach. 

His leaky head trapped under the tightness of his briefs and pants drenched his clothes, his chest rising with deep and laboured breaths. In the silence of your privacy, Price became handsy, wanting to grab and touch every part of you, cradling your face and wiping the drool on your lower lip with his thumb. He brought it to his mouth, sucking his thumb with lust-hazed eyes as he peered down at you. His brown hues were darker in the dim lighting, nearly black with lust and need as he grappled himself over you. He wore a crooked smile on his perfect lips.

“You deserve a reward for behaving so well, yeah?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

[fairykazu]

washing rice with childe

note: gendered terms are used once (sir and girl) mlist ++ tglist @aethion @jllyfsh-lvr

when you walked into the kitchen, you didn't expect a horror that's beyond your eyes to even see. honestly, censoring in real life should be exist because you can't believe what childe's doing right now. he can't see you because you're in his blind spot, the corner of the entrance to the kitchen. but man, whatever the hell he's doing, you need to correct it right now or else, the whole world's going to fall apart and it's all your dumb boyfriend's fault.

you stepped into the kitchen, the floor had some suds on the tiles, "ajax."

he dropped the pot on the table, it tipped around its sides before settling down on the table. thankfully, it didn't spill all its contents out. you used his name-name. his government name. this isn't good...

"why the hell are you washing rice with soap?" you said, burying your head on your hands. seeing the beautiful jasmine rice soaked in soapy water made your head turn. why did he even? what???

childe washed the suds off his hands and shrugged, "you told me to wash it like two weeks ago so i am."

you furrowed your brow, "did i say wash it with soap?"

"not exactly but you did say 'babe, please, wash your damn rice. it's killing me!'" that's true, you did say that. but only because he didn't even wash it to begin with.

you took the pot and saw the soap and the rice hanging out. you tilted it to the side, draining the soapy water to throw away the rice. "this is crazy, babe, i meant, just wash it with water and rinse the water out."

"but you said wash it, not rinse it." childe replied, taking the pot from you just before you threw away his nasty rice. he filled with water again to repeat the process.

you rolled your eyes, “no, i said to wash it with water, not soap.” you drained the pot and quickly tossed all the soapy, raw rice into the trash before childe could protest.

childe looked confused. its hard to get mad at him when he looks so cute but you should muster your strength because he committed an horrific crime and he has to face justice (learn how to cook rice correctly). “i mean, that does sound better. ive been washing the rice like this, at least a week later you told me to.”

you were in disbelief, “what…?”

“yeah! it was so bad. i was like ‘wow my girl is crazy for this’ but i did it because i love you.” he formed a heart with his hands and winked.

“babe…”

“yeah?”

your stupid, loving boyfriend mistaken how ti wash rice just because he misunderstood what you said. and he never clarified. god, help us all. “i love you but you shouldve asked me to clarify.”

“…i thought youd get mad at me because ‘youre always right’ blarrrgh!”

shoot, hes right. you would! “thats fair but you really think id wash my rice with soap.”

“i mean,”

you shoot him a look as he glanced to the side. “i mean, of course not!! lets wash it right.”

“before you do, repent !!!”

“really?”

“no, not really. cmon fill this thing with rice for me so we wont have soapy dinner tonight.”

“yes, sir!”

[svt-kiki]

( 🧺 ) 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ⌅ .

EP 109 : MT SVT REALITY 2024

2024.　pairing.　kiki ( fem!oc ) × svt

cw.　eng is not my first language, rough writing, no proofread, mentions of alcohol ( i mean it’s ttt so )

kiki was attacked hugged by mingyu as soon as she entered the lesson room after jeonghan

“what? ...oh, yes,” she said to herself with a chuckle, remembering mingyu was elected as the gose class president in previous episodes ( and carats didn’t miss that he seized the chance to hold her )

then she greeted with the staffs politely as always, wearing a black clop cardigan and a matching color camisole, dark gray pants in a relaxing silhouette, both were soft materials, matching the mt concepts for the day

also wearing glasses ( important )

she just tittered while hoshi, cheol and jeonghan kept adding mingyu’s tasks as the class president

“you guys living to give him a headache for real, arent you.”

she sat on the place nearby the door, then the next thing carats realized was wonwoo silently sitting next to her ( seized the chance guy #2 )

after most of them gathered, she popped up with a question, “isn’t it been a while? doing ttt?”

kiki: i love this content so much :)

wonwoo silently pulled her sleeve and got her closely so that she could join the same car with him

jun: but seriously, do you guys think it is okay? leave the grocery shopping task to us!?

kiki: *stepped ahead, tried to volunteer that she can do instead*

jeonghan, held her from behind and covered her mouth: DON’T

seungkwan: hey! someone is trying to smother the applicant! ㅋㅋ

dino: no, no, hadn’t we strongly agree not to let noona do those things in ttt before?

that’s true, in almost every ttt episodes, she is always willing to do shopping, cook, wash dishes, and clean places aftermath

so boys decided “no more tasks” rules for her, bcs she always doing these tasks not only in the content but on a daily basis

jeonghan: ah i should let her sit in the passenger seat, joshua ain’t do a thing

kiki: well it’s too late for that *comfortable in the backseat*

she just couldn’t stop laughing at how jeonghan introduced the product for ads

kiki: why are u so bad at this

jeonghan: shut up i’m no actor okay

kiki: wait this actually tastes good???

joshua: ahdfsjak

not wonwoo slowly lying down to her lap

they went to the PA for a casual meal

jeonghan: can i have a drink?

kiki: go ahead i’ll drive

[ pretend like the rule never existed ]

jeonghan: *attacked her cutely*

kiki: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

kiki: i want to eat a popsicle so bad, should i text mingyu?

joshua: if u want i’ll text him instead

kiki: really? like aren't your text piling up?

then every person in the car died

joshua: did u just backstabbed me like that!?

kiki: i'm sorry i didn't intended to ㅋㅋ

she was surprised at how big today’s accommodations were

kiki: staff-nim must struggling to find the places for us every time

[ yes we are ]

jeonghan asked her to play the pool together so she said yes

he laughed about how sometimes he got pissed at how she’s good at everything from the beginning

kiki responded with a serious face, “no, the reason it looks like i’m good at those things is any other pfu boys basically suck at every ball game,” and both burst into laughter

after a while, jun shouted to her from outside, “kiki~! i’ll sing your fav jp song, u wanna join?” so she immediately got outside

[ never miss the opportunity to duet ]

singing i love you by ozaki yutaka with jun, kiki said to him, “we should do the cover of this yk, like officially,” and carats started manifesting in a sec

mingyu: thank god she’s finally here

while naturally helping to prepare the BBQ, kiki looked around and said, “everyone just singing karaoke… i guess we are already at the age now where we need to save our energy for the night…” then died inside

[ blew herself up ]

she’s an honorary member of the low-energy club in the group so

after everyone got at the table and cheered, joshua finally asked her help for his kimchi fried rice which took one eternity

kiki: okay lemme add this- and this- and this spice- yeah now it’s good

[ finally served ]

after playing the games ( she kept losing and got a lil tipsy already ), they cleaned the place for once and shifted to the next game

minghao claimed from the distance that since kiki’s good at playing basketball she should be given a handicap

so she gave a shot from across the pool while everyone watched in silence expecting the miracle but she failed the first attempt

[ miracle is a miracle because it won’t happen easily ]

kiki: what did u expected i'm half drunk

in the ep.3 part, she chilling and half asleep while her roommates mingyu and dokyeom are both hyperactive from early morning

kiki isn’t the type of not good in the morning usually, but this is the day she didn’t need to wake up before 10 am for a long while so she just kept sleeping peacefully, it might be the first time in ttt that she hadn’t get up early than most of them

kiki: wow you actually look like your dad

jeonghan: all of the sudden-?

while seungkwan trying to get on the unicorn float, she was still sleepy but automatily turned on the camera and started recording ( lately posted on weverse ofc )

an.　this is really rough sorry ( almost sucks at this point?¿ ) but it is like a test drive for me before i lost my motivation to write it so here we go. tag list is open, reblog / comments / ask box messages are always appreciated <3

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

(    tag list    )   :   @smh-anon @jennwonwoo

[cameronspecial]

(I have a lot of ideas sorry for the spam)

drew x reader where he cooks all the time cause she can’t cook, but she starts to feel bad cause he cooks everyday. So before he come back from work she try to make dinner but she hurts herself. Maybe cut herself or burned herself on the stove and when he gets home, he sees her trying to hide her injury because she is embarrassed. He gets a bit mad but not like mad mad just worried mad yk? Like “what the hell happened? I told you i would make dinner tonight!” And she cry and be like “I’m sorry I just wanted to make you happy” and he comforts her and say she shouldn’t be sorry.

Kitchen Nightmare

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Cooking Injury and Blood

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Y/N can’t cook. It is no secret on set that the girl is notorious for being a nightmare in the kitchen. The meat she cooks is always overcooked on the outside but raw on the inside. The rice she makes is always way too mushy or just hard as a rock. It’s like the universe only gave her the ability to cook food at either end of the extremities. The cast of Outer Banks loves her, but they dread going over to her house for dinner because it means they would have to utilize their acting skills to not make her feel bad about her cooking. When she started dating Drew, everyone felt relief that they would never have to eat her cooking again because Drew promised to take care of it. And Y/N was very grateful for that because the truth is that she hated cooking and she knew how bad she was at it. She never told her castmates because she found it amusing to watch them fake liking her food. 

However, she is beginning to feel bad that Drew is always the one who cooks. She knows he is more than happy to, but she also knows that being the one to think of a meal every day can be stressful. Her decision to help him out tonight scares her, yet she is determined to do something nice for him. Ordering food didn’t seem like a personal gesture, so she asked his mom for the casserole recipe she knew he loved so much. 

She feels like it is starting well. She has all the ingredients and the right tools. The first thing she has to do is get the chicken breasts out and washed. She is setting it in the pan and notices how thick the chicken looks. Her hand finds the packaging and realizes she made the mistake of not buying thin-cut chicken. She needs this dinner to be perfect, so she takes it out of the pan and gets it onto the cutting board. The knife shakily meets the chicken’s muscles and slices it apart. She always feared using knives. She knows how clumsy she is and can always imagine the disaster that would occur. Stuck in her own mind, it is exactly what happened. Her hand slips against the raw meat and the knife glides against her skin. A red line blooms across her finger. It is a scary situation and she knows she shouldn’t laugh, but the only thing that comes to her mind is a scene from Bob’s Burgers. Her cut is in the exact same place as Bob’s and now, all she hears is Linda saying finger crotch repeatedly. 

Drew enters the apartment to the smell of raw chicken and the faint hint of iron associated with blood. What is even more scary than the unknown source of blood? Finding his girlfriend laughing hysterically with a knife in one hand and her other bloodier than a slaughterhouse. He rushes to his girl, taking her hand into his. “What the hell happened?” he questions, piecing the scene together as he looks around the room. “I told you I would make dinner.” Her crazed state is now dying down and her laughter turns to soft cries. 

“I’m sorry I just wanted to make you happy. I know cooking every day can be stressful and that you miss your mom’s cooking. I wanted to surprise you.”

He feels bad about his harsh anger, pulling her into a hug with a kiss to the temple. “That’s really sweet, Sweetie. I’m sorry I was so angry. I just get worried when you cook. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he explains, combing his fingers through her hair. She nods. He gets a clean towel to apply pressure on her wound and gets his car keys out. He rushes her through the door. “Let’s get you to the hospital and then maybe to cooking lessons.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[baronessvonglitter]

Eating Out for Christmas

Max Phillips x f!Reader

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: your period comes early, ruining your fun for the office Christmas party. Luckily, your workplace enemy offers his assistance..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, blood kink, menstrual sex, oral (f receiving), office sex, Christmas smut, hate sex, no romance, shameless smut, reader doesn't know Max is a vampire, reader wears a skirt, mentions of period cramps, brief mention of giving a bj, no use of y/n

Author's note: my Christmas in July offering, written during a particularly AWFUL first day of my period. This was also inspired by a certain scene from "The Tale of the Body Thief", one of my favorite of the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice.

FULL MASTERLIST

“Shit!” you mutter, checking your panties in the restroom stall. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

You period is here early, and now your brand new white satin panties are ruined. You’d bought them specifically for tonight, your office Christmas party, when you’d planned to finally hook up with Jordan, the guy in Marketing you've been flirting with for weeks. Now that's down the drain.

The toilet paper is out, so creating a makeshift pad is out of the question. You have to slip your panties back on in order to retrieve the spare pair you keep in your desk drawer for times such as these. You make a sound of disgust as you put your panties back on and quickly wash your hands. It'll be just a moment and you'll get a fresh set of underwear and a tampon from your emergency stash.

Leaving the restroom you can already hear the Christmas party in full swing. So your night isn't going to go as planned, that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun in the meantime. Jordan isn't going anywhere, and at the very least you can give him some head in the supply closet.

A cramp stops you in your tracks and you nearly double over in pain. Leaning against the wall you breathe through it. Until you get some Midol in your system, nothing's going to happen between you and Jordan.

"What have we here? A wallflower?"

You hear that voice and automatically cringe. You can't stand your new boss, the sales manager Max Phillips, aka HR Nightmare. You ignore his little comment as he nears you in the hallway. He's wearing a Santa hat and a shit-eating grin. You inwardly groan.

He says your name in a singsong voice and it curdles your blood. "I know you heard me. What are you doing out here?"

"On my way to the party," you try to make your voice light even as another cramp overwhelms you. Max puts his hands on the wall on either side of you, effectively trapping you. His dark eyes take on a predatory look, like a shark who's just scented--

"Blood," he says in fascination. "You're on your period, aren't you?"

Weirded out while at the same time a little intrigued, you answer, "That's none of your damn business, is it?"

He chuckles and you hate how charming he's trying to be. "You are. I can smell it on you. I've been able to smell it on you all week, your body conserving just the right amount of blood, doing its job, just waiting.. and when the magic doesn't happen, all that blood just trickles out of you. It's messy work being a woman, isn't it?"

You take a moment to absorb everything he's said, your face frozen in a look of confusion. "Max, I'm just gonna go get a tampon if that's okay with you." You move his arm away so you can leave.

"No need." He easily traps you again, and for a split second you marvel at his speed. "I can take care of that for you," he whispers seductively into your ear.

Maybe it's the fact that you were expecting sex tonight, or that your hormones are wildly out of control, but something deep inside you is awakened when his breath tickles your ear. "What do you mean?" your voice is soft, yielding.

His eyes bore into yours. "Come with me."

He brings you to his office, traversing the party, but in the festive atmosphere you two are overlooked. Plenty of people are either too drunk or too engrossed in other activities to notice you.

In his office he cuts the light, leaving only a small lamp lit on his desk. He locks the door but leaves the blinds open, giving you a little smirk and a wink.

"What are you doing? Why am I here?" you ask him.

"I'm offering my help," he says easily, leading you behind his desk and letting you perch on the edge of it. "You're bleeding, you're cramping.. that's no way to enjoy tonight's party."

"So what exactly are you offering?" You have some idea, now sitting on his desk.

He gently lifts the hem of your skirt and your scent, mixed with the scent of blood, wafts up to him. There's that predatory look again. "May I?" But without waiting for you answer, he reaches under your skirt and caresses you through your panties. Your gasp is enough to encourage him. He moves the satin material to the side and then his fingers are inside you. You gasp again, louder, and put your hands on his shoulders.

"Jesus, you're soaked," he says, pumping his fingers inside you as you open your thighs wider. "So fucking wet and warm.."

You're so into it you don't even question his obvious predilection for your menstrual blood. It's a turn-off for most guys but Max seems to need it.

"I always.. thought.. you hated me," you said, panting as he switched up the pace: going rough and fast then slowly, curving his fingers so he could stimulate the secret spot inside of you. "You made fun of my presentation in front of our new clients last week.. we lost the account."

"I did do that," his face is buried in your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume, of your shampoo. "I had to. That client was flirting with you, he would have been all over you if I hadn't intervened."

"Why? Why would you do that?" Still you cling to him, still you allow this pleasure he gives.

"So I could eventually have the chance to do this," he says, and as he fingers you he swipes the pad of his thumb over your clit and you see stars.

But he's a tease, and deep down you know it. He pulls his fingers out, slimy with your blood, and licks them slowly, savoring your taste. Even you have to admit it's pretty hot, even if it's a little weird.

"On the desk," he commands you, his voice husky. In your delirium you obey, and he pushes your skirt up to your midsection. He's delicate about removing your panties, and runs his tongue along the bloodstain, catching what's left of its essence.

He's fucking crazy, you think to yourself, but at the same time you're excited for what he's about to do. He moves you a little closer to the edge of his desk and takes a seat in his chair, pulling up to you like you're his dinner. Opening your thighs his breath hitches and then he dives in.

You gasp in surprise at the feel of his mouth on your pussy, the way he licks along the edges, cleaning up the blood that somehow always gets to the crease between your cunt and your thigh. He's ubiquitous, licking everywhere, tasting you. Your mind races. Part of you wonders why you're even letting him do this if you don't even like him all that much, and the baser part of you unabashedly grinds your pelvis up, demanding more from him.

With a barely-contained growl he lifts your hips and tongue-fucks you, moaning at the taste of your blood and juices on his tongue. You try to stifle a scream, and Max stuffs his Santa hat into your mouth. You remove it, too worked up to try to be quiet, and throw the hat on the floor.

The blinds are open, and colored disco lights spin around the room. You two could so easily be caught, but the noises you both make are muffled by the sound of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree".

Max is relentless, sopping you up no matter how much you have to give. He drives you crazy when he laves his tongue over your folds, adding more pressure at your clit, and sucking hard until you've come and you beg him to stop. The bastard only starts up again once you've recovered, switching it up between tonguing your cunt and lapping at your so-sensitive clit. Your body trembles, thighs quaking as his fingers dig into your flesh. You lose count of how many times he sends you to heaven. All you know is a cycle of pleasure, seemingly endless, turning your brain to mush.

There's a knock at Max's office and the doorknob jiggles. "Hey, Max? You in there? The party's already started." It's Jordan's voice! Your eyes pop open but Max keeps at it as if he hasn't heard. You tap him on the shoulder with force.

"Go away Jordan, I'm in the middle of dinner!" Max only gives himself enough time to shout before diving back in. You close your eyes as the pleasure rises once more, a wave engulfing you and you can't help but cry out.

Max slows down, uncharacteristically placing a kiss on your clit before moving away from you. In the lamplight you see your blood smeared on his mouth, nose, and chin. He licks most of it off and uses his handkerchief to wipe the rest away. "Orgasm is a natural pain remedy, and if I counted correctly you came at least seven times.."

"Shut up." Even though your legs are weak you manage to scoot off his desk, looking for your panties.

"I'll keep them, if that's okay with you," he says. "And don't worry, I got all of it."

"Got all of.. what?"

"Your blood. Your period's over. You're welcome." He looks so self-satisfied.

"How..?" you begin to ask, but a part of you really doesn't want to know.

"I'm just very good with my tongue," he shrugs. "But next month, if you want to do this again, I'd be more than happy to oblige." The way he smiles at you is just evil, but damn if it doesn't make your pussy throb again. "For a favor, of course."

"What favor?"

"Stop seeing Jordan. He already knows about us, he was watching through the open blinds." You're speechless, angry even, but Max continues. "And you might have to put up with a little more of my teasing you at the sales meetings. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"You're an asshole," you grumble, and arrange your clothing before heading for the door.

"So. My office, 8 pm, about 28 days from now?" He's wearing a smarmy grin as he waits for you to respond.

You hate Max, but you hate your fucking heavy flow even more. The man knows how to make you come, and it's not like you'd have to date him. Sighing, you pretend to look indifferent. "Sure. I'll be there."

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Earth 42 Miles x F! Y/N

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏: 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎:Miles owns a business to help with his job as The prowler, he gets a new assistant thats trying to end his marriage .

𝐀/𝐍: I was scrolling on tiktok and let’s just say , I got some inspiration. Lowkey got bored towards the end also it dosent have the much spanish which is ny fault

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:Cussing,Spanish might be a little choppy ( blame google) IM TRYING YALL IM TRYING For the story HE US AGED UP

Inspired by : Obsessed-Movie and Some random TikTok I saw .

You were at home relaxing ,I mean you couldn’t do that much sense you were 6 months pregnant.

You are waiting fir your husband to come home . You haven’t seen him all day since he goes to work so early.

You hear keys jingle at the door , who could it be…. It’s your husband. He smiles as he sees you getting up to greet him. “. ¿Cómo está mi mamá bebé descalza? (Hows my barefoot baby mama going )“ he jokes to you . “Im doing well baby daddy “ you joke back to him.

“ Cómo te fué en el trabajo ( how did it go at work)“ you ask him as you penguin walk to the couch.

“it was good but rico is on a family vaction, así que tengo que contratar temporalmente a alguien( So I have to hire someone temporarily)“ he tells you

“ok well you know , contratar a alguien que sepa hacer el trabajo (hire someone who knows how to do the job)“ you tell him.

he nods and heads to the bedroom as he stsrt to undo his tye.

You continue to relax , the baby starts to kick your stomach “baby come get your daughter “ you laugh .

“ Qué está haciendo ella ahora(What is she doing now)“ he asks , he walks out of the bedroom in sweatpants and a tank top and sits on the couch next to you .

“Digamos que le gusta patear (Let’s just say she likes to kick)” you say . “Sound like she might like track , cross country or soccer “ he says “I’m thinking soccer, she kicks really hard “ Yall both laugh.

“I need a break from work, you know how i said we are temoraroy hiring people“ he asks you . “Yes babe“ he tells you . “Hiring today was horrible I don’t think people was reading the qualifications for this job like at all “ he tells you , you start to chuckle.

“What happened,” you ask him .

“So this guy comes in , he sits down so I’m like “do you have any experience with research and finance “

So he like “to be honest no, mi mamá dijo que están contratando y no me quiere en su sótano (my mom mama said they hiring and she tired of me living in her basement )“

so I’m like dang ok . “Do you have any experience with cleaning because we have a janitor job” I tell him

“yeah my moms she made me clean and wash dishes , she made me wash the floor and the walls“ he told me

“Ok , I’ll contact you in two weeks to let you know about the  janitor job” I told him

“Yo man thanks “ he said then he walked out .

“Baby , that man was so honest” he says he also made me want to laugh.

“That was definitely something“ you tell him

“I'm going to start with our dinner, tonight we are having chicken with rice “ he says and smiles . “Yum” you tell him

“Voy a ser chef’to(I’m going to be a chef) “ he laughs

“Mhm, tengo mi propio Gordon Ramsey( Mhm , I got my own Gordon Ramsey )you joke

“No no, Soy mejor que eso(I’m better than that)he says .

“oh is that so ,Yo seré el juez de eso(I’ll be the judge of that) “ you tell him.

“Cariño, recibí una llamada del tío( Baby I got a call from uncle), he probably talking about business “ he says . “That’s fine you can answer “ you tell him.

Miles starts talking with his uncle , basically talking about business and other stuff . You usually work him , since you guys are duo “Mrs. Prowler and Mr. Prowler. From then till now , you have experienced all of that job has for offer and you don’t have want that while your pregnant.

He hangs up the phone and really starts cooking . “Baby I got an assistant “ he smiles . “Uncle Aaron chose her and the assistant starts tomorrow “ he says . “That’s good that means you don’t have to worry about hiring “ you say

“Yup and that’s what I like ,Estoy de vuelta en el negocio, cariño(Im back in business baby). “ he says you smile.

“Alright business man how’s the cooking going “ you ask him .

“My bad , ill start now ,No puedo matarte de hambre (I can't starve you) “ he jokes

“At least you know “ you told him.

He cooked and you guys would eat dinner together .

But little did miles know that tommorow he got an assitant from ....

Hell

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @not-aya @html-nae @khamanix

[cuddles-with-dragons]

Crosshair: *walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone* Wrecker: Hey, Crosshair, how was your day? Crosshair: *picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Wrecker* Hell. Echo, watching this unfold: *whispers* Who hurt you?

Crosshair: This should be illegal! Echo: It is.

Echo: Crosshair doesn’t look very happy. Hunter: That's their happy. They're just a bitch.

Echo: If I say yes am I joining a cult? Hunter: Possibly. Echo: I’m in.

Hunter: If I didn't know better, Wrecker, I'd say you were scared. Wrecker: Heh, scared? *absolute silence* Wrecker: DID YOU HEAR THAT?!

*Tech and Crosshair playing minecraft* Tech: Oh no, oh no, oh no- Crosshair: What’s wrong? Tech: I did a thing. Crosshair: You regret the thing you dID- Tech: *screams* Crosshair: What the fuck did you do- *sees mass of aggravated Piglin* Damn it- Tech: *screams again*

Crosshair: Why does nobody tell me when people come over? I came downstairs singing All Star while wearing a "say hey if you're gay" shirt and boxers! Crosshair: Everyone was there. EVERYONE!

Crosshair: The Force has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

Echo, washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan?? Echo: Wait. I the fuck used this pan… Crosshair: It was you the fuck. Echo: It was I the fuck… Hunter: Who cooks rice in a pan? Crosshair: They the fuck.

Crosshair: What is wrong with you? Tech: Many, many things... Tech: And most of them are your fucking fault.

Crosshair: We’re having a moment, aren’t we? Echo: If by 'a moment' you mean me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met, then I guess we are.

Hunter: I think I need a hug... Wrecker: Good thing I'm hug shaped! *45 minutes later* Hunter: You... you can let go now. Wrecker: No, I absolutely cannot.

Crosshair: This is horrible! This is the most humiliating thing to ever happen to me! Echo: Oh-? Even more humiliating than- Crosshair: We are not doing this!

Tech: We've got to find a way to cut down our expenses. What can we live without? Hunter: Crosshair, probably.

Crosshair: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.