#he's like my sous chef he does no work and only eats

[deadrlngers]

sometimes life truly is about the little things like cutting carrots for salad and sliding a few pieces to your dog who had his nose up to stare at you the whole time

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

[syrupfog]

Sanji who just wants a job as a sous chef but has yet to be hired, but has somehow managed to enter the world of being a private chef for extremely wealthy families. 

He hates them they remind him of childhood but he needs the cash. 

He starts working for Mihawk.

Mihawk who only eats odd, simple foods. Things that Sanji feels insulted to make. A LOT of toast with cream cheese and jam, honestly. 

Sanji’s bored out of his mind (he starts canning the fruit from Mihawk’s garden to pass the time)

Then one day, bursting through the front door come two people his own age, a woman with pink hair and a man with green, DEMANDING to know why Mihawk moved without TELLING THEM, HIS OWN CHILDREN

Sanji immediately pegs them for stuck up assholes. He’s grown to respect Mihawk, at least (he’s better than the Charlottes were). Spoiled rich adult kids who expect their lifestyles to be funded. Ugh. 

Mihawk blinks and says that he DID tell them.

There’s a lot more shouting as Sanji quietly pickles beets in the background. They come to some sort of truce around the idea that Zoro (the green haired one) lost his phone, and Perona (pink hair) blocked his number after Mihawk called at 2am about his yams.

They’re good yams, Sanji thinks. 

He also learns that they were on a “road trip of self discovery”. He’s not sure what that means. It sounds like rich kid speak for “spending spree”.

They integrate into the household though and, after being introduced to Sanji, Perona demands pink. Anything strawberry. 

Zoro says he’ll eat anything. Sanji doubts that. 

He tests it. 

He makes extravagant dishes. 

Zoro doesn’t seem to even notice, eating without complaint.

Honestly it’s good practice. He uses it as an excuse to get back into the hang of the fanciest things Zeff taught. 

But he still doesn’t like them. Rich assholes. Mihawk’s simple toasts get him a pass.

One thing about Zoro though is that he seems to spend all his time working out, so he comes looking for food at the ODDEST times. And SOMETIMES Sanji is ASLEEP. He’s got a room in the old servants’ quarters and Zoro will appear at any hour.

After the third time being awoken at 2am, Sanji snaps. 

“I’m preparing you a fucking shelf full of onigiri,” he says, pointing with a judgmental finger at Zoro’s chest. “That’s going to be your midnight snack from now on! Some of us need our beauty rest!”

Zoro blinks down at the finger. “Okay,” he says. “I mean. You clearly need it.” 

Sanji scoffs in outrage. He’s still half asleep. He aims a kick at Zoro’s head before he can process his one rule (“don’t hurt clients”). 

Zoro dodges. 

His face breaks out into a grin.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Curls,” he says. 

Sanji stumbles. He regains his footing and stomps down the hall, face aflame. 

He makes thirty onigiri. 

Zoro eats seven. 

“There, that’ll last you three more nights,” Sanji says.

Zoro nods. “So what time do I wake you up to get you to fight me again?” 

Sanji splutters. “No!!” He shrieks. “It’s three in the morning! I know you’re a rich fuck with nothing to do but some of us have jobs! I’m on call 24/7 here!” 

…he regrets it as soon as he says it.

Expects to be fired on the spot. 

Zoro frowns. He crosses his arms. “Fine,” he says, tersely. “Go to bed.” 

Sanji… does. He avoids turning his back on Zoro as he leaves the room, a bad feeling churning in his gut.

When he makes breakfast the next morning, he’s expecting to be fired as soon as Mihawk arrives, but Mihawk mentions nothing. 

Neither do Perona or Zoro when they appear, hours later. 

Sanji feels like he’s walking on eggshells until Zoro appears in his kitchen in early afternoon.

“Hey,” says Zoro. “I talked to my dad.” 

Sanji hangs his head. “So I’m fired?” He asks, dread pooling in his stomach. 

“Fucking what? No, Jesus. I just said you should have a regular work shift. Only like, ten hours on call.” 

“So you docked my pay,” Sanji says flatly.

“Now you’re being an ass,” Zoro growls. “NO, you’re being paid the same, you’re just going to have time off when I can’t bug you. That cool?” 

Sanji frowns, suspicious. “What do you get out of it?” He asks. 

Crossing his arms, Zoro scoffs. “Not getting yelled at at 2am, mostly.”

“You could’ve just not woken me up,” Sanji says. 

“You make it real hard to be nice to you, Cook,” Zoro says, running a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t like me, but I was just trying to do something nice.” 

Sanji melts a little, but he’s not willing to give in entirely. “Well thanks,” he says. “For not firing me, too.” 

Zoro rolls his eyes. “We’ve all had shitty jobs where we want to yell at customers,” He says. 

“Now I KNOW you’re lying,” Sanji argues. “I know how rich you are. I know what Mihawk pays me.”

Zoro looks… funny at him. “Did he ever happen to mention that we’re adopted?” 

Sanji blinks. Thinks of Zeff. “Uh, no?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “Fucking Daddy Warbucks situation. I was seventeen. Trust me, I know customer service. Had to work to eat.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Sanji says. “Now I feel like a fucking ass.” 

“You ARE a fucking ass,” Zoro says. “Want to fight when you’re off work? Officially your shift ends at 6 now.” 

“Dinner is for seven so that won’t work.” Sanji says. “Shut up I have a chef’s integrity.”

“You’re not turning down fighting me?” Zoro asks, sounding oddly hopeful. 

“You spend all day working out so it’ll be unfair,” Sanji says. “But sure, I’ll kick your ass. Winner chooses what filling goes in your onigiri.” 

“Spicy salmon,” Zoro says. 

“Pickled plums,” muses Sanji.

They do end up fighting after dinner, out in Mihawk’s fancy topiary garden (he maintains it himself). 

Bruised and panting, they end up making out behind the large rabbit-shaped tree. 

It becomes A Thing.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hey! Love your work and was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a really good cook/baker!

A/N: Hey there! I'm so glad you like my work :D I really hope you enjoy this one too!

DARRY CURTIS

He swore he couldn’t love you any more than he already did but then you went and started cooking for the boys and Darry found out just how wrong he was

It’s so nice to have someone else who can cook and who Darry can trust alone in the kitchen, he knows you’re not gonna start a fire or something

You’re the one cooking dinner now most of the time, simply because the boys like eating your cooking the best

Darry will cook for you sometimes! Especially if you’ve had a bad week or it’s a big milestone in your relationship, blah blah blah, Darry has a thing for taking care of his partners, and that comes out in the form of food

King of hyping up your cooking, especially your chocolate cakes! You’re the only one that can bake a chocolate cake and get Darry to admit that yours tastes better than his cake does 

Also also also, he asks you to pack him lunches sometimes so that he can take it to work with him and just kind of have a little part of you there with him <3 I highly suggest dropping a little handwritten note into his lunchbox, but y’know, that’s just me talking

SODAPOP CURTIS

Don’t tell Darry, but he likes when you cook or bake for him more than when his brother does, Sodapop thinks it just tastes better

*Insert a joke about how Sodapop likes to claim it’s because you make your stuff with love and Darry doesn’t but we all know that’s nonsense*

I kid you not, Sodapop is a bottomless pit and not a picky eater by any stretch of the imagination, so if you need a taste-tester for some dish you’re trying out, look no further than your pretty boy

Show up to the DX with a packed lunch for the two of you, flirt and giggle before giving it to him, stay with him and eat together in the garage on the hood of some ridiculously Soc car that Steve was supposed to fix later in the day

Nothing says I love you more than sitting on a car and laughing during his lunch break, doing nothing but sitting there and just being together

Plus! Steve will get sort of grumpy and pouty because he wanted to have Sodapop with him for his lunch break but you got there before him and he can’t really be mad because you guys are just too cute but he’ll be funny to watch  

PONYBOY CURTIS

You’re into cooking? Baking? That’s cool, Ponyboy has no problem eating whatever you’re working on and loves to be in the kitchen with him

He’s a menace and likes to sit on the countertops or eat the food before it’s cooked, so maybe it’s not always the best idea to have him there with you, but, y’know, he’s cute so it’s way okay!

The two of you have definitely made a mess of Darry’s kitchen at some point, cookies gone wrong or a mini-flour food fight, so there’s a high chance that you’ve gotten Ponyboy banned from the kitchen

If you bring anything treat-wise for him to school, expect the boys to try and steal some of it, especially Two-Bit, that boy will literally steal anything he can

Hype Man pt. 2, Pony talks about your cooking so much that Darry has probably asked you to just come over and cook dinner one day so that Pony will stop telling him about how you’d cook everything differently

Also, strong opinion that he only knows how to cook very simple meals, scrambled eggs and grilled cheeses and things, and is seriously impressed by when you make things that are like even a fraction of a bit of something better than those

DALLAS WINSTON

If your folks are out and you’re planning on cooking? Please oh please, call up Dally and let him in so he can eat whatever you’re making

He’s not helpful, he eats your food and then doesn’t help with the dishes, I wouldn’t recommend him as a sous chef at all

But! He’s honest and will tell you exactly how he feels about what you’re cooking, which can be a blessing and a curse, just as things usually are with our dear Mr. Winston

If Dally doesn’t like something, he’s gonna bitch about it, but if he likes it, god he’s gonna compliment you and compliment you and compliment you and kiss you so many times as a thank you

No one else is allowed to touch anything you make for him, he threatens to and has bitten and snapped at people who get too close to his plates before, I’m not even lying to you

Also, don’t let him cook because Dally’ll probably end up burning something, solid headcanon that he can barely cook, and he’ll probably end up blaming you for whatever he’s messed up!  

JOHNNY CADE

Hard one, I don’t know exactly how I feel about Johnny with an S/O who’d bake or cook all the time, but I know he’d like it!

You’d probably make an extra lunch for him every so often (every other day or so because you know you love him) and the two of you would eat your lunches together at school

Johnny likes everything you make, he’ll tell you how great everything is and shower you with praise and compliments as he shovels food like he’s some sort of chipmunk

I don’t think he’s picky either? Like, I don’t think he cares very much about picking and choosing when it comes to food, he’d rather just put it in his mouth and go on with his life

But I think Johnny has a favorite thing that you make, I don’t know what exactly, but it’s gonna be something sweet, maybe cookies or brownies

He’s a horrendous cook, okay? Recipe or not, he absolutely sucks and it’s terrible having him in the kitchen with you but he likes to stand with you so I think you should just let him hang out as long as he promises not to touch anything- 

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You’re helping him babysit his sister? And you’re making dinner? For both of them? And you’re having the time of your life in the kitchen?

Two-Bit thought he was in love with you already, jeez louise, he’s so gone for you and is about to have a meltdown because you’re just standing in his kitchen making dinner for everyone 

He tries to kiss you and almost burns himself on the stove because he’s too busy staring at you he doesn’t realize where he placed his hand and then you’ve got to take a break from cooking to take care of him

Two really does like what you cook though! He’s not picky and he’s open to whatever you want to feed him, I promise! 

Come up to him with a spoonful of mystery and tell him to open his mouth and swallow, Two-Bit will do it immediately, no questions asked whatsoever

He’s a good guy, alright, and he’s got simple thoughts, he just really likes seeing you when you’re cooking, when you’re in your element and I think he’d be a really great pal to have in the grocery store 

STEVE RANDLE

Have I mentioned? That Steve? Is a cheerleader? And likes to hype you up? Because that’s running around and around in my mind

For the love of everything, you better have a chocolate cake recipe memorized because that’s what Steve’s always going to ask you to make, he can’t get enough of your chocolate cakes

You’re gonna have to persuade him to eat anything else, honestly, he’s just so in love with you and the cake, it’s gonna be a challenge 

If you don’t let him in the kitchen with you, Steve’s just gonna whine and pout until you eventually cave and let him in from where he’s been throwing a fit in the doorway

He’s good though, he knows when to keep his hands off, especially when he’s coming from work and covered in grease, he honestly really doesn’t want to help with the cooking anyway

Steve would much rather just watch you and talk, laughing about your days and just be there with you while you cook and bake your little heart out  

TIM SHEPARD

He’s picky with food I have a feeling? Like Tim likes what he likes and that’s what he’s gonna eat, y’know?

Bowl of cereal in the morning, a burger when he goes out to the diner, Tim’s not really into the whole trying-new-things but I have a feeling, if you tried hard enough, you could convince him to try something a little new

Present it to him and smile, bat your eyelashes, say your pretty pleases and beg just a little bit and there’s nothing Tim can do but say yes <3

He’s a good person to cook with! I think he knows what he’s doing enough and likes to cook, so I think it could totally be a bonding thing for you!

The moment you cook dinner for Angela and Curly, Tim knows he’s not gonna let you go anywhere because if you love him to care for his siblings as well, Tim knows you’re definitely a keeper

He likes to come up behind you when you’re cooking and hug you, murmuring into your ear as you throw things together, some compliments and some teasing remarks, but they’re all said with such love it makes things totally cool-

CURLY SHEPARD

This little shit, Curly is head over heels even before you tell him that you like to cook/bake, he’s gonna be long gone when he learns about that

He thinks it’s great, absolutely loves it and absolutely loves you, and wants to hear about everything you’ve ever made

You need a taste tester? Someone to go grocery shopping with you? Someone to talk with while you cook?

Don’t you even worry, baby, Curly is more than happy to spend all day in the kitchen with you while he does no cooking whatsoever, just hangs with you

And, so uh, y’know how cookies and brownies and stuff have that sort of window where you just sort of put them in the oven and wait? Yeah, Curly likes to take advantage of that time period and kiss you senseless

Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t because you know that this boy will take any chance he can get to make out with you, regardless if he runs the risk of burning those cookies to a crisp or not-

[channieskies]

EAT [LEE KNOW]

Pairing: Chef|Lee Know + AFAB|Reader

Genre: Smut, Drabble

Synopsis: After a successful cooking class, you book another night with the brilliant and handsome man that taught the class. Only to find out you booked the wrong Chef Lee.

A.N: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. This was barely proofread, please disregard the mistakes.

Word Count: 3,000 + [~13 minute reading time]

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. NSFW warnings are under the cut.

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Warnings⚠️: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], creampie, oral (male and female receiving), anal play, food play (please let me know if I missed any)

_______________________________________________

Being single sucked. Especially when it comes to eating meals. That being said, single and lazy just didn't mix well. You dreaded making meals for yourself, but your pockets told you needed to. So when your friend invited you to a cooking class with the world-renowned chef Lee, you were ecstatic. The class lasted about three hours from start to finish. There was wine and food, and chef Felix was one of the most beautiful men you'd ever laid eyes on. Well, at least in your opinion, he was. Your Saturday night was almost complete. Almost. Being single really, really sucked.

By the time you left, you were tipsy, full of good food, and a little wet from your interactions with the sexy deep voiced chef. He had such a pretty smile and beautiful freckles littering his face like stars. You were completely taken by him. The rest of your weekend seemed to fly by without a hitch. So, by Monday morning, you were ready to sign up for a private lesson with the chef. Your friend told you the company she went through for the lessons and the rest was history.

The next week seemed to creep by. It usually does when you are excited for something. By the time Friday came along, you couldn't wait to get out of work and get home, practically speeding on your way there. You got ready for your lesson, took a shower, and put on a date night outfit that you had stored away since you learned long ago that the dating pool was trash. You waited patiently for eight to roll around so you could see chef Felix again.

When the buzzer rang to let you know someone wanted to come up, you quickly rushed over and rang them up. You rubbed your nervous hands on your skirt as you waited for your bell to ring. When it finally did, you inhaled a quick breath before opening the door. With a wide smile on your face, you spoke, “Hi I'm Y/n-- wait- you aren't Felix.” The smile quickly slid off your face as you examined the young man in front of you.

He had soft brown hair, downturned pouty lips that resmbled a cat, and very hard to miss bunny teeth that you noticed as he smiled. He was taller than you , though you wouldn't say he was a giant, nowhere near it, really. He had on a gray sweater with cute little geometric patterns all over it and dark denim jeans. He had a large canvas bag full of groceries in one hand while the other gripped what seemed like an apron.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He flashed you a mischievous smirk. You could tell something more was behind it. “I’m the head chef, Minho. Chef Lee Minho. Felix is my sous chef. He took over classes while I was away in France on business. I can't promise to offer the same experience since we are two totally different chefs, with different styles. But I promise to make it worth your while.” How could you say no to that? His dazzling smile was very convincing, and it's a part of the reason you let him in. you stepped back and widened the door a little more for him to come in.

“You have a beautiful home.” Minho complimented as he took a look around your downtown apartment. It had a rustic and industrial charm to it with its exposed brick and high ceilings. It was a nice apartment, especially considering you had gotten it for dirt cheap.

“Uh.. thanks.” You clapped your hands to draw his attention away from your bare walls - your apartment desperately needed decor. But you didn't have the time to do all of that. “Shall we get to cooking?” you asked and pointed to your nearly spotless kitchen. He followed you to it and put down his bag. You both washed your hands first, and he helped you with an apron that came free of charge when you purchased a class. Once you were prepped and ready, you got started.

It started off slow. He explained the menu and told you a little about his background. He was from Korea but studied in Japan before traveling to different Asian countries to learn different cuisines. He moved back to Korea and started training under Chef Baek Jong-won, one of the most renowned chefs in Korea. Then he became head chef at one of the oldest restaurants in Seoul before opening his own restaurant that now sits at one Michelin star. “So how about we start with green curry, then stir fried glass noodles with vegetables for an entree, and coconut custard filled donuts with a frosted pineapple drizzle for dessert?”

You honestly thought all that sounded a little complicated for someone who admitted to being lazy when it came to cooking, but it also all sounded incredibly delicious. “Sounds delicious.”

He was surprisingly easy to work with. He explained why he did the things he did and helped to customize them for everyday life. He stood to the side of you, his body touching your side ever so lightly as he guided your hand. You could feel his breath on your as he concentrated on the task at hand. You tried to swallow the thoughts that plagued your mind, like how good he smelled or how nice his hand felt on top of yours. your mind even dove as deep as your imagining his pretty face between your legs.

You let out a shaky moan as your mind slowly delved deeper into the abyss. “Are you okay?” He pulled away slightly to look over your face from the side.

“Y-yeah, it just smells so good.” He smiled and let out a sigh of relief, thinking that maybe he had made you uncomfortable by being too close. To make the atmosphere a little lighter, he asked if he could play a little music in the background. You agreed, hoping the music would help you take your mind off things. He synced his phone with your Bluetooth speakers, and Club boynnd's “naturally” softly started to flow from them.

He moved back to your side and reached for the spoon, his hand landing on top of yours once again. “Want to taste?” His voice sounded so smooth as he asked. Of course, you nodded, absentmindedly pressing your thighs together. He let you taste the chocolate you'd melted. He smeared the warm chocolate across your bottom lip, and your tongue almost instantly darted out to taste it. Your eyes met as you took your bottom lip into your mouth. You tasted the slightly sweet yet bitterly sticky substance on your tongue.

“It's delicious, chef.” It was like your eyes were locked in a battle, waiting to see who would cave for the other, first.

“May I taste it too?” You nodded, unsure of what move he was going to make. With the same spoon, he dipped it back into the chocolate, smearing it on your lips once again. He searched your eyes for affirmation, and you nodded.

It was like a switch went off. The next thing you knew, you were sitting on the counter, trapped between his strong veiny arms. His lips were on your, savoring the remnants of chocolate that resided on your lips. Your arms rested on his shoulders as your fingers found refuge in his soft hair.

Your tasks had soon been forgotten about as you passionately made out in your kitchen. The song switched to Kelela’s “Blue Light”, but neither of you could hear a thing at the moment. He pulled back and took your hand in his. He isolated your index finger, making it stand alone. He dipped that finger into the chocolate and put it into his mouth. He took it on, sucking every last bit off your finger. “Delicious.”

The way he looked at you as he said it made your womanhood ache with need. He pulled you down off the counter, turning you around, fingers moving up your back, signaling for you to bend over. He moved back briefly to turn off the burners on the stove. The last thing he wanted to do was burn down your kitchen. He was back behind you in no time, his pelvis pressing against your ass as he leaned forward. “I just wanted to let you know that I enjoy eating just as much as I enjoy cooking.” He let out a short, humorous, puff of air.

With that said, he pressed his lips to your slightly exposed neck, nipping that skin and leaving tiny marks. First, it was the apron, the strings untied, the fabric falling right to the floor. His fingers trailed under your shirt, pushing the fabric up. He wanted it off, and you took the hint, pulling the clothing up and off, tossing it on the floor. He trailed kisses down your back, letting his agile fingers work on removing your bra. The straps fell, but with your arms on the counter, the bra partially stayed in place. Next was your skirt, which he didn't bother unzipping.

He rolled your tight skirt down under your ass, relishing in the sight and his recent accomplishment. He licked his lips, his hands rolling over your skin. He tugged your panties and your skirt all the way down and crouched down behind your. “Wow..” You looked back to see what he was doing, only to feel his warm hand spreading your cheeks. “Fuck… I can't wait to taste you.” And that he did. He leaned in and bit your ass softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to mark your gasp at his actions. His tongue traced the indents his teeth left before you pressed a chaste kiss to it. His breath was hot on your entrance as he moved his attention to your waiting pussy. “I guess someone is a little turned on.”

You chuckled lightly at his accusation. “Says the one who was all in my personal bubble. It's hard not to feel something when a man as sexy as yourself is that close.” You admitted not knowing what had come over your. Nothing was said on his end as he dug into his meal. He dipped his tongue into your entrance just to pull it back, a trail of your wetness following the pink muscle. He wanted to just taste your first. His tongue slipped back in his mouth, and he grunted.

“You taste amazing.” He went back for a second helping trailing his tongue from your clit all the way to your asshole and back again. you lived alone, there was no need for you to conceal the way he was making you feel. Your voice bounced off the open walls of your kitchen and living area, mingling with the music. He pulled away just before you came, much to your disappointment.

“Maybe I should make things a little sweeter. Turn around for me.” You almost questioned what he meant by that only to remember this was a kitchen, and he was a chef. This was his playground. He stood to his feet and grabbed the spoon for the chocolate, raking a hefty amount into it and smearing it over your breast and down your stomach.

Next came the cinnamon sugar that he carefully sprinkled over it. He stood back, admiring his work before nodding at the final project. “Now all that's left to do is eat.” He smirked as he moved closer, his body trapping you against the counter again. He left kisses from your mouth to your chest, where he started to lick the chocolate, cinnamon-sugar from your skin. He sucked on your nipples making sure not a bit of the sugary concoction was left.

He nibbled and licked his way down your stomach until he was face to face with your womanhood. He lifted your leg and put it over his shoulder before his face was back between your legs, helping you to reach the orgasm you missed out on before. Your fingers were tangled in his brown hair, tugging on the tresses hard as you came. Your legs shook and almost gave out, but thanks to his grip on your thigh and the counter, you stayed in place. “I could eat out every day with you.” He said as he pulled away, his mouth a glistening mess from his meal. He put your leg down and guided you down to the floor where he was.

He moved in for a sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He pulled away to discard his apron and his almost suffocatingly hot sweater. You were presently surprised by how well built he was. With his apparent affinity for sweets and the handsome yet cat-like face he sported, you didn't expect him to look like that at all under all that clothing. Even the scar on his stomach was something to be admired. He noticed you staring, so he lifted your chin with his index finger. “Enjoying the view?” You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. you were thirsty and would willingly admit it.

“Let's not stare too long, I still have things I want to do to you.” Your heart was racing from his words. “Would you like a taste before I start the next course?” He tilted his head down and looked at you through his damp bangs. It was hot in the kitchen even with the burners off.

You pretended to think about it, already knowing your answer. “I'd love to taste,” he grabbed the bowl from the counter while still on his knees.

“Have at it.'' You weren't a skilled chef, but you are good with your mouth. Before you even touched the chocolate, you made sure his pants and boxers were discarded.

It was your turn to be in awe once again. How were you this blessed to have a man ready to fuck you, who not only had a gifted tongue but a gorgeous cock as well? You wasted no time. The angry veins and the fact that his member was at attention for you made you even more eager to have him in your mouth. You dipped your fingers in the chocolate and painted a few stripes on the shaft of his cock before licking it off and taking him into your mouth. His hand rested on the patch of hair right above your neck as he gently guided your head up and down his length.

You were amazing. It took every bit of him not to cum in your mouth. Your hands worked on his balls for added pleasure, your tongue twisted around the tip every time you pulled back. His eyes were rolled back, it was his turn to groan along with the music. You pulled away, a hand twisting around the shaft of his member. “Cum for me.” you stuck out your tongue, rubbing the underside of his tip over your wet muscle. His eyes closed, his hand gripping the back of your head as he released into your mouth. you let the liquid dripped from your tongue and down your chin. You only managed to get a little of it down.

“Fuck..” He was spent but his stamina was no joke at all. Plus he was enjoying how sexy you looked under the overhead potlights. your skin glistened with sweat and he could smell your sex as he still had spots of your wetness on his face. “How does it taste?” Your tongue darted out to lick up the mess on your chin and he used his thumb to rake up what was left. You sucked on his thumb, letting it go with a pop.

“I need to be inside you now. Like, right now.” He stood and helped you up. He bent you over the counter once more. To him, you were so fucking sexy it wasn't hard for him to get hard again, seeing that he was already semi-erect. He fluffed himself, his eyes transfixed on the view of your ass and glistening pussy on display. You were bent over just waiting for him to completely devour you.

That alone was enough to get himself hard again. Lifting one leg and letting it rest on the surface. He slid in your wet entrance, your walls wrapping around his member, squeezing it. He gripped your ass cheeks as he slowly started to pound into you, not even concerned if you adjusted to him or not. His member slid in and out of your creamy wetness as you screamed his name over and over. You loved how he filled you up. You couldn't get enough of how good he felt.

Sweat beads rolled down his cheeks. It felt like a sauna in the kitchen, even if it was an open space. But that didn't deter him at all. He had a goal in mind. He wanted to see his cum drip from your cunt. Just the thought causes his member to twitch inside of you. One hand wrapped around your throat as the of his thumb readied to slide into your asshole. He let spit drip from his mouth and used it as a lubricant. He rubbed his thumb over the hole before sliding it in and bending it as he fucked your. You choked out a moan.

So, that was the kind of man he was? Your eyes rolled back as he pulled his thumb out to slide it right back in. You knew you wanted to fuck Chef Lee, you just weren't expecting it to be a completely different one from the other night. But you weren't complaining. The gorgeous man who was currently drilling you into oblivion was perfectly fine to you.

His fingers tapped on your throat, “Cum for me, Y/n. Cum on this dick so I can cum inside of you.” You let out a euphoric sigh, your hand gripping at his wrist. your walls convulsed, squeezing and hugging his cock as you came for him like he asked. He grunted feeling just how tight you had gotten. His thumb slipped in a little more as his pace picked up. your leg shook, his pace sending you straight towards the edge of your third orgasm.

He snapped his hips into you a few more times before his seed glazed your walls as if they were the dessert he described earlier in the evening. He pushed in before pulling back. He pulled his thumb out of your ass, watching it slowly go back to its original tight ‘o’. He spread your cheeks and looked at the white substance that peeked out of your hole. Satisfied with his work, he took a seat on the floor as you slid to your knees, still gripping the counter. His cum slid out your cunt due to the awkward position you were sitting in, which caused him to chuckle.

“Looks like we have a mess to clean up.” He said speaking of the disaster zone your kitchen had become. There was chocolate on your rugs and smeared on the cabinets and cum and spit on the floor in multiple spots from your messy blowjob and his cream pie. There was a buzzing noise as your little robot vacuum made its way into the kitchen for its scheduled cleaning. There was silence between you both as you watched it work before they burst out laughing. This was a cooking lesson neither of you would forget.

_______________________________________________

A.N: Please leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

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[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

[illusoriess]

lestappen fic recs: an (ongoing) masterlist

here it finally is! because i promised!! a hopefully ongoing collection of my favorite lestappen fics, all on ao3.

LONG FICS (over 35k words)

Long Live (The Walls We Crashed Through) by Fabby | Explicit | 80.7k words

“What are you doing?” Charles asked, his voice cracking. Max blinked at him once before he smirked and said, “Well... I was going to kiss you.” “Why?” “Because I want to.” “Why?” Charles repeated, feeling like his legs were going to give out. “Is that not a good enough reason?” Max asked. OR: The childhood best friends to lovers fairy-tale-soulmates fic that nobody asked for. Charles has been in love with Max since he was seven years old.

I'm sure this one can go without saying since you all have probably read it, but it's a classic, and I'm including it on pure principle. This fic has it all.

2. Yours by loquarocoeur | Explicit | 53.9k words

Charles looks much too satisfied as Max leans back against the door, one eyebrow tugging up as he asks, “Do you want to fight?” “Of course I want to fight.” Charles only looks slightly amused. “Then fight.” "Stop fucking telling me what to do!" Max yells. Charles cocks his head. "What, because it turns you on?" Alternatively: Max doesn't want to like Charles, but Charles makes that really fucking difficult sometimes

To Bottom Max enjoyers, this will become your Bible if you haven't read it already. To tentative Max Bottom explorers, you will love this fic even if you never read Bottom Max again. But it might change your brain chemistry, so be careful.

3. half of a heaven by weiwuxian | Explicit | 38.9k words

“Good evening. I’m Charles,” he offers his hand, which Max takes and for a second, Charles thinks he’s going to kiss the back of it. Some muscle spasms in the tight grip, rough velvet against soft skin. When Charles gets his hand back, it feels like he lost a finger or two in the fight. “What’s your poison, Charles?” Max asks, settling on the barstool like it’s not designed to be the most uncomfortable chair in the world. “Cyanide, usually. I’ll settle for a gin tonic for now.” or: Charles is a supermodel that has learned everything he needs to make his world turn. Now, he has no idea what Max Verstappen wants from him.

charles' black cat energy is strong in this fic. and man's laden with issues. he's an eccentric supermodel and max is an f1 driver and big ol' simp. once again they're dumb, but they're lestappen, come on. fork found in kitchen.

4. give me that fire by Lady_Something | Explicit | 39.8k words

“Can you work with him?” Max has to take two drags of his cigarette before he can answer, and even then all he says is, “He knew I was the head chef, didn’t he.” Charles has to have known. Even if the news hadn’t reached him that Max had taken over as the head chef of Taureau Rouge, he would not have travelled all the way from Paris to London for an interview at a restaurant without knowing who he’d be working under. Still, Charles was the one who broke up with him. Max has to know, for sure. “He knows,” Christian confirms softly. “He outright laughed at me when I called and asked him to come work at one of my restaurants. It was only after I said it was Taureau Rouge, working with you, that he agreed to come.” Fuck. Fuck. Max could’ve gone his whole life without knowing that. He probably fucking should have, because how is he supposed to be normal about it? // Max and Charles have history, but it doesn't stop Charles from coming to work as Max's new sous chef. It does mean that everything changes for them both in the space of a single week.

Chef aus seem to be a trend in the f1 ficdom and I eat that shit up every time. This fic is no exception. Anyways they're so messy and flawed, it's beautiful

5. unwritten by NovaCloud | Teen and Up | 37.6k words

Reach for your dreams. Charles is trying, but it’s fucking hard. Falling in love with Max wasn’t part of his plans. Running away is easier, at least that way he won’t get hurt. Right? - Letting out a breathy laugh Charles shakes his head. He puts down the little shot glass and turns to Max, staring at him. “You spent my yearly pay check on me?" “I spent it on charity,” Max corrects him with a slight smirk as he casually leans against the bar. Charles wants to kiss it off his face. “I’m very concerned with wildlife conservation.” Charles snorts. “It’s for biodiversity.” “And that too, of course.” "You're insane, you know that?"

As someone in journalism I had to suspend my disbelief at some parts but that's honestly part of the charm tbh. Just silly, dramatic, fun, and cute. Plus billionaire Max is... yeah.

MEDIUM FICS (15k - 35k words)

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | Explicit | 16.3k words

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

The tag "meet-cute but it's a meet-disaster" is used, which is accurate. A good mix of comedy but also heart-wrenching... sweetness? romance? they're both extremely stupid and extremely lestappen and it's just amazing. and great smut ofc.

2. home (is wherever I'm with you) by actparci | Not Rated | 17.9k

On the drive back to the hotel Max had turned to him, blue eyes fierce and piercing. “Promise me you won’t stop being angry. You’re angry because you know what you can do. Use it, control it, let it fuel you. Other people won’t understand but that doesn’t matter, you know what you’re capable of.” You and me, he’d seemed to say, we’re the same. Charles wonders now how he ever thought Max wouldn’t understand. Or: Charles leaves Ferrari, tries to win a championship, and learns some things about belonging. All the while, Max is there.

Another one you've all probably read. If I were to describe this fic in one word, it's "cathartic". Who needs therapy when you have Charles Fix It Fics???

3. kitty conundrum by linearity | Explicit | 18k words

Charles shows up to Monaco with kitty ears and a tail. Max is totally normal about it.

spoiler alert: he's not normal about it. thanks to some magical realism you get this almost-omegaverse-but-not-quite fic, and lestappen are just two horny idiots.

4. friday night; i'm in love by autumnapricot | General Audiences | 21k words

Charles hates Max. Well, not really—hate is probably far too big of a word for it. Max annoys Charles. Well, not really either, because Max doesn’t, like, do anything purposely to annoy Charles or goes out of his way or acts with ill intention, or whatever. At least he pretends like he doesn’t, so. Charles is annoyed by Max. Yes, that’s more like it. [Or—Max and Charles work together in an office, eight hours a day, five times a week. Strangely enough, it’s friday nights that bring them closer.]

They're so silly and sweet in this fic and I was endlessly endeared reading it. I'm a bitch for an office au, especially when it involves a ridiculous one-sided rivals to lovers.

5. even the sun sets in paradise by PrincessElectra | Teen and Up | 27.7k words

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates. But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name. The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there. Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions. “I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed. “We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

This fic is... everything <3 The hurt/comfort is just done so well; it gives meaning to the phrase "in sickness and in health." Their love is just written so beautifully.

SHORT FICS (under 15k words)

Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions by WanderingBlindly | General Audiences | 12.4k words

"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine. “Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.” “So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows. Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” Or: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss

Short and sweet, just pure fluff and Christmas joy. If you just want to read something nice and also pretend like it's Christmas in July, then this is the fic for you.

2. Clothes by Anonymous | Mature | 2.6k words

5 times Charles steals Max's clothes and the 1 time Max rips his clothes off of him.

cute domestic lestappen. they're adorable. that's all <3

3. Saturdays by NerdHerder12 | Teen and Up | 3.1k words

On Saturdays, Max visits Charles.

Proceed with caution. I feel physically ill after reading this fic and I really only read it when I want to hurt my own feelings. But it's so good.

4. And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by PrincessElectra | Teen and Up | 6.5k words

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy. (Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

Another hit by PrincessElectra. The beauty of this fic is how hilarious but also fluffy it manages to be. Sassy needs to narrate all future lestappen fics, I don't make the rules

[whimsicalpolitical]

Cooking dinner with dad!ross and the babies 👶🏽

The kitchen is full of flour and laughter as the late afternoon light spills through the windows. Maya is perched on her little standing chair at the counter, her hands buried in a mound of dough, proudly pressing it into shape. Ross stands next to you, John balanced on his hip, babbling and giggling as he reaches for everything within range. You’re grating cheese while Ross tries to roll out his section of dough with one hand.

“You sure you’ve got this?” you ask, glancing over at him.

“’Course I do,” he says, winking at you. “I’m a multi-tasker. Can’t you tell?”

John, flailing his chubby hands, manages to grab a bit of flour and smears it across Ross’s shirt. You stifle a laugh.

“Looks like John’s already working on his masterpiece,” you say, nodding to the mess.

Ross looks down at the flour-covered baby with mock despair. “He’s an abstract artist, clearly.”

Maya, with dough all over her fingers, chimes in, “I’m making a big pizza, Daddy!”

Ross turns to her, his grin wide. “Oh yeah? Bigger than mine?”

“Way bigger,” she insists, puffing out her chest. “Like… HUGE!”

Ross raises an eyebrow, pretending to be impressed. “Huge, you say? How’d you get so good at this, huh?”

Maya giggles, still pressing her fingers into the dough. “Because I practice! Mummy lets me help all the time.”

“That’s true,” you add, smiling at her. “You’re my best sous-chef.”

Ross feigns being wounded. “What am I, chopped liver?”

John chooses this moment to slap Ross’s chest, sending more flour into the air. You burst out laughing, trying to keep a hold of the cheese as Ross looks at the baby with narrowed eyes.

“Alright, little man, you’re clearly team Mummy tonight,” he says, shifting John higher on his hip. “You’ll regret that when you taste my pizza, though. It’s gonna be the best one.”

Maya giggles louder. “No way! Mine’s better. Look!” She holds up her dough triumphantly, though it’s more of a lumpy oval than a circle.

“Very… artistic, love,” Ross says, squinting at it with exaggerated seriousness. “Might be a bit avant-garde for the traditional pizza lover, but I like your style.”

You bump him lightly with your hip. “Be nice. She’s a visionary.”

Maya beams proudly, flattening her dough even more. “What’s a visi… visi-whatever?”

“Someone who thinks outside the box,” you explain, sprinkling cheese on the counter accidentally.

“Yeah,” Ross adds, grabbing the tomato sauce with one hand, while John continues babbling. “Like how you think your pizza can be better than mine when clearly it’s impossible.”

You roll your eyes. “Competitive much?”

Your daughter sticks her tongue out at Ross. “Mine’s gonna have more cheese, and cheese makes everything better.”

“You’re right with that one love. More cheese does make everything better.”

You smile, finishing the last of the grating. “Alright, you win that round, Maya.”

Ross leans in, whispering dramatically to John, “But what she doesn’t know is that we’ve got secret ingredients, haven’t we, mate?”

John squeals, kicking his little legs, as if agreeing with whatever scheme Ross is cooking up.

“Secret ingredients?” the little girl perks up, her eyes wide. “Like what?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that. It’s top secret. Only the boys know.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s basil, isn’t it?”

Ross narrows his eyes at you. “Now why would you go and ruin the magic like that?”

Maya scrunches her nose. “Basil’s boring.”

John, still flailing his arms, starts gnawing on the edge of Ross’s shirt. Ross pulls him away, looking mildly exasperated but laughing all the same. “This one’s trying to eat his way through the whole meal before we’ve even put it in the oven.”

The four-year old giggles. “He’s hungry!”

Ross looks at John with mock seriousness. “You need to slow down, little man. There’s a process to these things.”

You lean over and pinch a bit of dough from Maya’s mound, popping it in your mouth. “I don’t know… I think John’s onto something.”

Ross glares at you playfully. “Traitor.”

You shrug. “Can’t help it. Pizza dough is irresistible.”

Maya, determined to outdo everyone, grabs a handful of grated cheese and dumps it onto her dough, some of it missing the target and ending up on the counter.

“Careful, baby,” you say, but you’re grinning at the chaos.

“More cheese!” she declares, grabbing another handful.

Ross laughs, looking at you over John’s head. “She’s going to give us a proper cheese avalanche at this rate.”

“You’re just jealous because hers is going to be better,” you tease, nudging him again.

“Jealous?” Ross scoffs, dramatically placing John down in his high chair. “Please. This—” he gestures to the dough he’s been half-rolling “—is a work of art.”

As soon as Ross gently sets John down in his high chair, John’s face crumples into an expression of pure betrayal. His little lip quivers, and within seconds, a wail escapes his mouth.

“Oh, here we go,” Ross mutters, trying not to laugh, but his heart clearly softening. “Proper daddy’s boy, aren’t you, mate?”

John’s chubby hands reach up desperately, as if the world is ending. His cries grow louder, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Ross," you say, half-amused, half-exasperated, wiping your hands on a towel. "He just wants to be held."

Ross throws his hands up dramatically. "I can’t do everything at once! We’ve got pizzas to make, don’t we, John?"

But John is having none of it. His cries grow louder, tiny fists flailing as if he’s been cast aside forever.

“Alright, alright,” Ross sighs, leaning down to scoop him up again. As soon as John’s back in his arms, the crying stops immediately, like someone flipped a switch. John burrows into Ross’s chest, his sobs turning into little hiccups of contentment.

Maya looks over from her spot at the counter, her face half-covered in flour. “John’s always on you, Daddy.”

“Yeah, well, guess I’ve got that irresistible charm.”

You chuckle, sliding the pizzas into the oven. “More like he knows you’ll give in every time.”

Ross shrugs, looking down at John, who’s now babbling happily into his shirt. “What can I say? The boy knows what he wants.”

Maya crosses her arms, giving Ross a stern look that’s way too mature for a four-year-old. “You should let him cry sometimes. That’s what you tell me.”

“Oi, when did you get so wise?”

“I’m always wise,” Maya says, matter-of-factly, wiping her floury hands on her apron.

You smirk, crossing your arms as you watch Ross try to balance John and reason with Maya. "She’s got a point."

Ross sighs, kissing the top of John’s head as he sways gently from side to side. “You’re ganging up on me, aren’t you?”

Your daughter giggles and holds her tiny hand in front of you to high-five her which you do.

As you turn off the oven and wipe your hands on a towel, Maya bounces on her toes, waiting impatiently by the back door. “Can we go play now?” she asks, her voice full of excitement.

Ross glances at her, then at John still cradled in his arms. “Alright, alright, but we’ve got a task for you, darling.”

“What task?”

“Think you can help your little brother get to the garden?” Ross asks, his tone soft but serious, as if it’s a very important job. “Walk slowly, hold both of his hands, and don’t let him fall over.”

Maya beams with pride, nodding enthusiastically. “I can do that, Daddy!”

Ross carefully lowers John to the floor, making sure he’s steady on his feet, then steps back. “Alright, John-boy, you’re in good hands. Maya’s gonna take you outside.”

John wobbles a bit, but his sister immediately grabs both his tiny hands and starts walking him toward the door, her face scrunched up in concentration. “Walk slow, John. Like this. See?”

John giggles, his little legs trying to keep up as they toddle out toward the garden. Ross watches them go, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Once they’re through the door, you step closer to Ross, wrapping your arms around his waist. He pulls you in without hesitation, resting his chin lightly on the top of your head.

You let out a small, content sigh, melting into his embrace. “I love evenings like these.”

Ross hums softly, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, leaning back to look up at him. “When we’re both home, when it’s just… easy, you know?”

He looks down at you, his eyes soft, his smile warm and unhurried. “I know exactly what you mean.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there in the cozy, flour-dusted kitchen, listening to the distant sounds of Maya and John giggling outside. Ross presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t know how we got so lucky,” he murmurs, his voice low and genuine.

You smile, squeezing him a little tighter. “Me neither.”

Ross leans down and kisses you softly, lingering just long enough to make you forget the cold creeping in from the open door.

“Come on, then,” he says after a moment, his eyes sparkling with that familiar playful glint. “Let’s go before she starts ruling the garden.”

You laugh, taking his hand as you both step outside, joining your two little ones in the golden light of the evening, the smell of pizza and laughter filling the air.

[lokis-army-77]

Fathers Day 1996

Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!reader

Word Count: 1625

Based on the tiktoks of moms taking their children to Dollar Tree to buy Father's Day presents.

Warning: None

Masterlist 

Mommy, Mommy, Daddy needs this." Alex shook the crayon box wildly in front of him. 

"Oh, I think he does. Drop it in the cart sweetheart." I smile at him as he excitedly throws the box into the already full shopping cart. 

It was a few days before Father's Day and since Alex was now three going on twenty-three, with how independent he was, I decided it would be fun to have him pick out Eddie’s presents. 

The 10-dollar Dollar Tree budget had gone out the door as soon as Alex had walked into the store and started grabbing everything he thought his daddy needed. Pretty soon we hit twenty bucks and I had to cap him off or else he probably would have bought out the entire store. 

"Alex, baby, I think we've gotten Daddy enough presents. Why don't we go buy them and then we can wrap them up when we get home?" 

He grinned wide and nodded his head. "Otay Mommy." Then he grabbed the front of the buggy and led us to the cashier, an extremely bored-looking teenage girl. 

With every item Alex placed on the conveyer belt, he explained to the girl, "Dis is for my Daddy because it's Father's Day and he's my Daddy." 

The girl just nodded along to what he was saying and I gave her a small smile before handing her a 20 dollar bill and picking Alex up. 

As I walked out the door, Alex darned in my arm and waved at the girl, "Bye-bye!" 

............ 

When Sunday came, Alex couldn't contain himself. There was a lot of excitement in that little body of his and it had him bouncing off the walls like it was Christmas morning. 

At around 7:43 I heard the bedroom door creak open and then the soft thud of toddler's feet making their way across the carpeted floor and to the bed. 

A soft smile spread across my lips when I felt a tiny finger poke my cheek and then the soft whisper of my son. "Mommy, wake up." 

I pry open one eye and squint at him. "Alex, sweetheart, it's not even eight yet." I sigh but sit up a little anyway, knowing that if he's awake, I'm not going back to be any time soon. 

"Mommy, it's Father’s Day!" He whisper shouts. 

"I know, love." I reached out to him and bring him close so I can give his chubby cheek a kiss. He giggles. 

"Why don't we let Daddy sleep in? We can go make him some breakfast." 

Alex seems to like that idea by the way he practically bolts out of the bedroom. 

I try to crawl out of bed without waking Eddie who slept deeply on the other side of the bed. The hand that had originally gripped my hip during the night now laying limp in the valley between our bodies. 

Leaning over I give him a quick kiss on the temple before getting up and hurrying into the kitchen before Alex can get into something he shouldn't. 

With the help of an excellent sous chef, we made quick work of breakfast. Crispy bacon, waffles with mini chocolate chips sprinkled on top, scrambled eggs, two plain and one with hot sauce, a glass of orange juice, and 2 glasses of milk. 

I plated all the food, giving Eddie his hot sauce-smothered eggs and OJ, and then set them on a big tray. 

"Alex, why don't you go wake Daddy now? I'll follow so we can have breakfast in bed." 

"Bweckfast in bed?" He asks. 

"Yep, we're gonna eat on Mommy and Daddy's bed." 

He was giddy at that answer, only ever used to having to eat at the dinner table. After that, he needed no encouragement to run into the bedroom and climb on top of Eddie. 

"Daddy, Daddy. Wake up! Wake up!" Alex screamed. I walked in to see him sitting on Eddie's chest, bouncing up and down. 

Eddie groaned at the weight of the boy. "I'm up dude. I'm up. Stop bouncing." 

"It's Father's Day and you're my Daddy." He gushed, his tiny fingers pushing Eddie's eyebrow up to try and force him to open his eyes. 

"Oh? Is it?" 

"It is. Me and Mommy made you Bweckfast and a pwesent." His tone was matter of factly. 

"I can smell it. Where is Mommy?" 

"Right here, Hun," I answer, walking the tray of food to my side of the bed and placing it on the sheets as I sat crisscross next to Eddie's laid-out form. 

He turned his head and smiled at me. "Morning Momma." He sat up carefully on his elbows, Alex sliding down his chest and into his lap, giggling. 

"Morning." I gave him a slow, soft kiss on the lips. 

"Eww, cooties." Alex cries, pushing us apart. Eddie and I chuckle. 

"I don't think Mommy has cooties, little buddy." Eddie sits up more, back leaning against the headboard. 

"No, but you do," Alex informs. 

"Sweetheart, it's Father's Day, that means Daddy is cootie free for the day." 

"Oh. Okay." Alex accepts my explanation no question asked before going on to the next thing. "Can we eat now?" 

I nod and distribute the plates, handing Eddie his and taking mine, leaving Alex's on the tray so that hopefully if he spilled anything it would land there and not the duvet but a mess would most likely be made none-the-less. 

....... 

After breakfast, we moved to the living room where I made Eddie sit in his recliner and cover his eyes. 

"No peaking," Alex ordered as we headed to the hall closet to grab his presents. 

"Wouldn't dream of it bud," Eddie called. 

With twenty cheap items from the Dollar store, the gift bag that held them all felt really heavy yet Alex insisted he could hold it. 

I trailed behind him as he waddled his way back to the living room and plopped the bag down at Eddie's feet. 

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" Alex clapped and I cheered along with him as I took my spot behind him sitting on the floor. 

Eddie opened his eyes and smiled. "Oh wow, a present." 

"I picked dem out all by myself," Alex informed happily. 

"You did? That's amazing bud." Eddie bent over and grabbed the first thing out of the bag. "Oh cool, a red power anger mask that's also sunglasses." Another item. "Wow I have always wanted a bottle of olive oil," He laughed. Another. "Alex, buddy, Joe did you know I needed a Barny coloring book," he gasped out, and crayons to go with!" 

I couldn't help the tears that came to my eyes as Eddie took out every item from the bag and thanked his son for all of it. Even if they were really only children's things that Alex would like or something completely off the wall. It was such a special moment and it had me close to bawling my eyes out there on the living room floor. 

When we were done, Eddie grabbed Alex and gave him a bear hug. "Thank you so much, buddy. This was the best Father's Day present ever." 

Alex just smiled and hugged his daddy back. "You're welcome, Daddy." 

"Love you bud." Eddie gave him a big kiss on both cheeks. 

"Wove you too." Alex followed his dad's action and gave a kiss on either side of his scruffy cheeks. 

When Eddie put him down, Alex then ran off to his room, the excitement of Daddy opening his present gone. 

I stayed on the floor, willing the silent tears from my cheeks. 

"Aww baby." Eddie cooed. "Why are enough crying?" He knelt down beside me, pulling me into a hug. 

"I don't know. I'm just so happy and I love you" I cried harder into his chest. 

"Oh honey, I love you." He kissed the top of my head. 

When I was able to talk without being choked the lump in my throat, pulled away. "I actually have a present for you too." 

He looked down at me with soft eyes. "Sweetheart you didn't have to get me anything. You gave me that sweet boy in there, that's all I could ask for." 

I smiled. "Well, I didn't buy it so.." 

"Oh, you didn't? Then what is it?" 

"Well." I take his hand and place it on my stomach. "We're gonna have another baby." 

If Eddie were hooked up to a heart monitor I think the only sound in the room would be the flat line tone. He froze, eyes growing wide as he looked from my own down to where our hands rested on my stomach. 

"Really? Are you sure?" He asked, voice soft. 

I nod. "I took three tests, all positive, and I'm about three weeks late." 

A giant grin spread over his face and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes surfaced. "We're gonna have a baby." He surged forward, kissing me hard. "Fuck baby, that's the best thing you could have ever told me." Another kiss. 

I laugh. "I'm glad." 

He pulled us apart and rested his lips on my forehead as he held me close. "How the heck am I gonna top this for your Mother's Day present next year?" 

"Well, you could finish that bookcase I asked you to build me that you never started." 

He pulled away and looked and me sheepishly. "I will definitely get on that baby. Like right now, no need to wait till May. He hurriedly stood to his feet, helped me up too, gave me another kiss, then walked toward the garage where the supplies for the bookcase had been sitting for a few months. 

Ever so slightly could I hear, "Fuck yeah, I'm gonna be a dad again."

[stupidstrawberrystars]

I’ve decided that my WIPs should be somewhere. This is wolfstar, modern au (where Sirius and James have a tiktok account). It was supposed to be multi chaptered (basically just gonna be Wolfstar doing couples trends on tiktok, but they’re not actually together yet), but I only fully completed the first chapter. But it’s just rotting away so here, it’s about 1k.

I’ve made this a thing now so;

Next

Their video went viral two months ago. Sirius and James precariously attempted to pet a pigeon. Gotta give the guy credit, Pete’s great at dares. 

He recorded it all, planning to use it to blackmail the two in the future. Nothing like friendly bullying between mates. And he got some good footage, a pigeon did fly in James’ face and Sirius stepped in poop, but then Remus just had to help.

He went to the shop and grabbed some bread. So they could lure a pigeon in. And in a shocking turn of events, they managed to pet one eventually. 

They posted the video as a joke.

It took the algorithm only a few weeks to hit all the UK uni students currently withering away behind their desks.

And soon Pads and Prongs went viral. 

And so as James and Remus crashed through uni, Pete cruised through his internship as a sous chef, and Sirius desperately search for artistic inspiration, they kept an online presence too.

Sirius and James documented their crazy days of boring work and painting, and entertained their fans with late night lives at their flats and short tiktok clips of dumb pranks. James’ hair was pink for a week. It was hilarious.

The internet was quick to fall in love with James’ long distance relationship with Lily. Pete popped up to show off his cooking sometimes. Remus appeared in the background sometimes. Sirius finds it unbelievable that he hasn’t realised how much the tiktok book girlies already love him. 

And that’s what lead to last night. The marauders, a nickname from school and therefore an embarrassing inside joke, are all huddled in the small living room of James and Sirius’, eating Pete’s cake and cuddled under blankets. Their live and just chatting with the fans, relating over awful projects and difficult teachers. 

“Not that this cake isn’t amazing, but does anyone want actual food? I could order takeaway since clearly none of us want to get up and make shit.” It’s a good suggestion from James, but Sirius isn’t really hungry.

“Yeah i’d have food mate.” Remus agrees and then so does Pete. 

“I’m good i’m not hungry.” James shoots him a vaguely sceptical look, and asks him if he’s sure.

“Yes i’m sure James.”

They decide on simple fish and chips. Usually they get something, as James would say, with more taste. But the chippies the only place that’ll bring them food and not take more than two hours. It is a Friday after all. 

Since they’re using James’ phone for the live, Remus takes his phone out and takes Pete and James’ order.

So they continue along chatting and rather quickly the questions about Remus, who’s been pretty quiet all evening, increase from about 50% of the comments to 75%. 

“Just appease them a bit Lupin.” Remus glares at James for that. 

“I have no clue what the people on your phone want to know about me James.”

Remus has a tendency to refer to technology as if he’s a grandpa who understands nothing beyond a radio. Sirius has heard people call it annoying but really it’s just endearing. At least to Sirius.

“How about that book you read Moony? Red, White and Royal Blue? Apparently you were caught making some choice expressions while reading in the background of me and James’ last tiktok. Did you like it?”

Remus gives him a disapproving look, likely annoyed at Sirius’ question. Apparently books need more detail than just a simple, yes it was good, or no it was not.

“Well… okay do your phone people really care about my opinion?” Remus turns to James. He replies that yes they obviously do. The comments are going crazy over having Remus’ attention.

“Fine. I enjoy Casey McQuiston’s writing style. I thought it was entertaining and I really liked how Alex and Henry complimented each other. Henry was able to calm Alex and Alex’s able to reason with Henry when he’s struggling.” 

Sirius looked blankly at Remus.

“Oh come on Moons. You spent like 2 hours explaining the whole book in depth and going on and on about your favourite characters and lines. Your book is annotated all over. At least share with the audience your favourite quotes.”

Remus sighs beside Sirius. Sirius really wants to hear these though. Remus seemed to love the book and Sirius often finds listening to him describe something he loves is always majestic. He details it all with elegant words until you’re eating out the plan of his hand. 

“I guess I thought it was pretty funny when Nora said, How did I know I was Bi? I touched a boob. Wasn’t that profound.”

“Remus.” Sirius whines.

“Oh fine. There’s a tone of quotes from that book I love. There’s I love him on purpose. Or he tells his too fast brain: don’t miss it this time, it’s too important. I- erm- I guess I also kind of love this thing Henry says, it’s like And I thought if someone like that ever loved me, it’d set me on fire. But then I was a careless fool and fell in love with you anyway.” Remus has not taken his eyes of Sirius once as he quotes this beautiful book. How does he remember those lines just of the top of his head?

“You know what though,” His voice takes on a soft tone. The one he reserves for kids, animals, things he loves, and sometimes Sirius. If he’s in a good mood. “my favourite, has got to be When have I ever, since the very first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?” Remus’ eyes are rich and deep and chocolate. Sirius wants to paint them. 

“Moony!” James interrupts their eye contact. “Now they’re all gonna be in love with you, damn it.”

Remus chuckles and glances to the side.

“Doubt that Prongs. But yeah I loved the book. Oh and erm- food should be here soon by the way guys. Just got the notification to say it’s on its way here.”

Remus then clearly decides he’s done enough socialising with the internet so he grabs his current book, Song of Achilles, and carries on reading. 

And of course, because he’s so easy to deal with already, Sirius’ stomach, as if it has a mind of its own, decides now is the time to become bloody starving.

He glances guilty at Prongs, who furrows his eyebrows as if to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey Moons,” Sirius raises the pitch of his voice slightly to warn Remus he’s about to be a bit annoying. Remus glances up, squints at him and tilts his head.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t hungry?”

James bursts into laughter and Pete chuckles. But Remus just goes back to his book. And once the laughter dies down he, without even lifting his head from reading, tells Sirius,

“Idiot. I know. I ordered you food when I ordered ours. I know you. I knew you’d be hungry.” He rolls his eyes but goes straight back to the book.

The entire internet sees Sirius’ doe eyes but Remus does not. It sends James up the wall. 

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

i love my coffee strong enough to kill a horse. it gets my heart going almost as much as the cutie who can make it 😘 (lmao jk...unless?? i'm not trying to be creepy i swear i'm just platonically in love). I used to get a cup of espresso and separately a cup of foamy milk with a shitload of syrups, so basically build your own latte

Also! That coffee shop AU - Valid. No notes. Let me present to you, as a reformed line cook, Kitchen AU:

Simon is the line cook. There is no question about it. No nonsence, gets shit done, can do basically everything that kitchen needs, good under pressure. Will murder you if you're being a daft cunt. What constitutes as 'being a daft cunt'? Changes drastically depending on amount of tickets. Fucking with his staff is a sure fire way tho. Just try to harass the waitress, pal, he will come out of the kitchen with a knife. The common one, not his personal, of course, that shit's expensive and almost a family member at this point. Surpisingly haven't been in jail. Yet. Doesn't drink energy drinks, weirdo.

Johnny? Dishie. Not nessessarily because he lacks qualifications, but (almost) every good cook starts as a dishie or prep. Batshit fucking insane, works shirtless with waterproof apron. Beloved by everyone, if kitchen fucked up and made an extra of something, it will most likely go to either the waitress that the cook got hots for, or him. On probation, will brag about it. Eats and smokes in one go, doesn't care that his food tastes like ash. Chugs that redbull like he's paid for it, is partially correct. Has been seen to just devour a loaf of bread, when questioned, called it his lunch.

Pretty boy Kyle? Hot kitchen, suprisingly. Man's damn good at his job and still got the stamina and passion for it. Hands are covered in burn and cut scar, some still fresh. Doesn't talk much, except with the waitresses, flirts shamelessly. The only person who can teach a newbie on which end one holds a knife, because chill vibes personified and probably won't scream at them lmao. If he had troubles with the law, it's probably MJ. Makes fucking unholy concoction with coffee from the bar and energy drink. Experiments with food at home constantly, loves eating bougie shit, but doesn't have a lot of time for it.

John Price? Not chef (idk how it's called in English, the main guy on the kitchen who does menues and shit), surprisingly, although almost there. Sous chef, most likely, because he has less paperwork and can be on the grounds and manage stuff more effectively. Takes desserts, at first just to fill in because they couldn't find a dessert cook, got used to it after a while, is predictably damn good. A literal God of machinery, shit seems to be afraid to break under his watch. Had problems with the law, but it's all in the past, nowadays he just 'knows a guy'. Doesn't fuck with energy drinks because he was chugging that shit when he was young and now got lowkey heart problems because of it. At home eats as simple as possible, sandwiches are his go-to, because his fuck rations about food are depleted at this point and he saves the reserves for work. Fucked up his taste buds with smoking habit, orders everyone to taste his dish if nessessary.

-🗞️

I'VE SEEN PEOPLE WRITE RESTAURANT AU HCs IN THE PAST (AND EVEN SOME LOVELY FANART BY @sleepyconfusedpotato look at it!!!!)

HOWEVER

I love your HC. I can just IMAGINE the vibes in that kitchen

And Soap shirtless, always covered in water???? MY GOD

ahhhhhhhhh

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Hannibal x F!OC

His Amuse-Bouche

Chapter 9: Exit Music (For A Film)

AO3 LINK

Beth meets her destiny

Word Count: 1.3k

NO BETA READER IN THIS PART BC I AM A DUMB BITCH BUT I TRIED MY BEST TO BETA MYSELF

TW: THIS IS A HORROR FANFIC. MAJOR DEAD DOVE. SPECIFIC TRIGGERS ARE LISTED IN EACH CHAPTER, BUT THEY CAN SPOIL THE STORY, SO IF YOU WANT TO ENJOY THE HORROR AS BEST AS YOU CAN, GO STRAIGHT TO THE STORY. SPECIFIC TRIGGERS: Mental health issues (depression, ptsd, anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks and dissociating), distressing impulsive thoughts, sexual tension, horror, gore, cannibalism, bad parenting, rough language, violence, drugs, spiked drinks, alcohol, poison.

----

“The sun is shining as the cold water hits my tiny feet. I turn back to look at the giggling couple behind me. The woman is sharing her ice cream with the man. They kiss. I cover my eyes and scream. “MOOOOOMMMM!! DAAAAD!!! STOP!!!!!” I run at them and jump into the open arms waiting for me”

I was cooking in the kitchen while listening to music. I heard the door open and close. Show time. I was cutting the vegetables as I felt his hands wrap around me from behind. I felt him inhale my scent. “Bach’s Prelude in C Minor?” he muttered. I tried to keep myself from smirking. “What about it?” I asked nonchalantly. I felt his grip tighten just a tiny bit before he moved his hands to caress my neck and waist. He knows I am up to something. “What are you cooking?” he purred into my ear. He knows but he just wants me to say it out loud. “Rabbit stew” I said. I tossed spices, clove, garlic and chili into the stew. He inhaled sharply and tutted his tongue. Keep yourself calm. “So many spices? Haven’t I taught you better, my darling sous chef?” he challenged. I bit my lip. “I think I am catching a flu so I wanted to make it spicier” I shrugged and turned around to face him. “Want to taste? I promise it’s delicious” I batted my eyes and handed him a spoon. He smiled and took the spoon, dipped it into the pot and tasted it while keeping an eye contact with me. “It sure is” he purred. I gave him a quick peck on the lips which he didn’t answer. Breathe.

“So that is your happiest memory?” Dr. Lecter asks me. I smile sadly and nod. “Yes. That is the only time I remember seeing them together. Happy. That is the only time I remember seeing my father sober” I say and sigh. 

Hannibal went to make the table. My heart was racing. I took the zip lock bag from the drawer where I hid it earlier. Zinc Phosphide. Rat poison. I had ground it into a fine powder. This has to work. I tossed a great amount of it on his plate and topped it with the stew mixing it in. It looks normal. It smells normal. I took a deep breath and walked into the dining room pushing the serving trolley, which helped me to keep my balance with the new legs.

There he was. Waiting for me. He had made the table almost as beautiful as the first time we had dinner. I gave him his plate and walked to sit on my seat, setting my plate down from the trolley. He had put music on this time. Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp minor. He had told me it was a song that reminded him of a prey that is too weak to run away. A prey that is almost too pitiful to eat. A wounded, weak rabbit. Zuiki. “I am no classical music enthusiast, but isn’t Chopin a bit too melancholic for a beautiful romantic dinner like this together, my love? ” I asked, trying not to sound too cold. He smiled back without answering me. He wants to play, huh? Alright. I’ll play along. 

“You loved him?” he asks. I raise a brow. “Of course I did? He was my father?” I say a bit confused. He leans back. “That isn’t something that defines love” he comments. I look down, think for a moment and look back at him. “Then what does?”

I took a sip from my glass and tasted the food. It definitely tasted spicy. I looked at him as he just sat there, fingers interlocked in front of him and staring right at me. He knows. I took a deep breath. “Was it all the spices?” I sighed. He smiled. “No, Beth. It was the fact that you wanted to get caught” he took another sip from his glass. Run. I bolted up and sprinted towards the front door as fast as possible, until after a few steps my whole body felt numb and I dizzily stumbled down hitting the floor. That fucker drugged the wine and I was too stupid to notice.

“Love, Beth, is a primal force. It’s not merely an emotion but a state of exquisite vulnerability. It’s the intertwining of desire and destruction, of consuming and being consumed. To love someone is to see them fully. Flaws, fears, and all. To choose, willingly, to indulge in their essence, to relish in their complexities. It’s an art, a delicate dance between affection and obsession, tenderness and possession. Love is the symphony that orchestrates our deepest desires and our darkest impulses” Hannibal says. I look at him quietly. “Have you ever loved anyone, Dr. Lecter?” I ask. He looks at me in silence. I look down feeling anxiety curl up to a big clump inside me. “I am so so sorry, that was stupid of me to ask” I shake my head. For a moment he looks like he is about to answer something, but he just shakes his head. “No need to apologize”

I woke up slowly. I looked around me to see this wasn’t the room he used to do his so called “work”. This was the dining room. I was back in my own chair, binded, of course. He was sitting across the table in his own seat. I started to chuckle quietly. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known you would do this eventually. You destroy everyone around you. Don't you, Dr. Lecter?” I shook my head and looked at him. He didn’t answer, so I continued. “You left the patient records there on purpose, didn’t you?” I teared up in anger and gripped the bindings. Still no answer. “DIDN’T YOU?? ANSWER ME!!” I screamed. He sighed. “I wanted you to know the truth, but I wasn’t sure how you would react. Now I know, and I can’t say I am not disappointed. I didn’t think you’d fail so badly at killing me” he tutted. I stared at him in silence. I was weak. I couldn’t do it. He got up and walked to me. “I really wanted a future for us” he said with a sad look upon his face. I scoffed, looking at the table. “Maybe, but you always knew it would end this way” I looked at him. He nodded in silence. “I loved you, Bethany” he said. I looked back at him, giving him a sad smile. “I loved you too, Hannibal” I answered. “It’s quite funny. I thought you could save me, but you ended up killing me in the process” I said, tearing up a bit. “In fact, I thought I could change you by changing myself” I started to cry. He kissed my tear soaked lips softly and inhaled my scent one last time. “I cannot be saved” he whispered.

I was now back in his basement . Here he cut me for the first time. Here he told me he cured me. Now I knew it was all a lie. I wanted to hurt him back. I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt me. To see his blood pool in my skin the way Valentin’s blood did. But I should’ve known the prey can never outsmart the predator. The prey can never become anything else. A Rabbit could only run, even after the predator had cut its legs.

I felt the needle puncture my skin and after a few seconds the sedative started to calm my nerve system down. I can’t wait to see my mother. Before I fell asleep, Hannibal leaned over me to whisper: “I promise you will be the finest amuse-bouche, Bethany”.

----

This was the final chapter of His Amuse-Bouche. Thank you SO MUCH for reading my fic <3 I am starting to write the next one, but it won't be Hannibal fic! I still hope you will stick around and see what I do next <3

If you want me to write a oneshot of Hannibal, I have my question box open for ideas and requests!!!!

Thank you for being on this jorney w me <3

Kisses, Pearl <3

[inkycherie]

I have had the most amazing summer. In July, my best friend came to visit. I brought her to Paris (her first time), showed her around my town and other neighbouring cities around Geneva, and we drove to the south of France. I made different meals for everyone to enjoy, danced to the loveliest music, and drank the best wine(s).

The third week of August, I went back to the Philippines. We had a long overdue family reunion. Our uncle from Canada also came to visit with his family, and my cousin who works for months at a cruise ship extended his vacation.

We all flew to Zamboanga del Sur to surprise my grandma and our extended family whom we haven't seen in 13 years ! We spent a week there living the simple life, eating pandesal for breakfast, and singing karaoke kahit brownout.

The first few days of September, I spent back in my hometown. I saw Bowie again. I didn't let any minute pass without cuddling him. Whenever I'm in the PH and everyone else is back home, my sisters and I stay in one bedroom with our parents (and Bowie), chatting away until we all fall asleep. These nights were even more special because we were all cooped up in one room while there was a storm outside. Felt just like the good old days when my sisters and I would spend nights holed up in our parents room trying to pass the time until electricity was back on.

I was also sooo happy to walk around the malls with Christmas music already playing in the background ! We bought surprise presents for our parents. My sisters and I chipped in to buy papa his dream TV, and mama a new iPhone. The rest of my money I spent on groceries, more presents for the fam, pasalubongs for Jon, books, Cheetos, Spicy Century Tuna, Vienna sausages, and Spam. lol

We spent my last week in Manila. Took mama, my sisters, and our aunt on a date - brunch in Wildflour and shopping at Rockwell, and then continued to shop in MOA. I wanted to make dinner for everyone, so I made sinigang na baboy which was perfect for the stormy weather. We had drinks with our cousins before bed (red horse, spicy Oishi, and isaw at bbq).

The next day, I brought my parents to IKEA so I can buy them stuff for the house. I could tell mama was so excited to drive back home so she can start using everything we got. Uncle flew back from Zamboanga later than everyone else so the day after he arrived, he went straight to the condo so we can spend more time with him. We asked him to make lola's bistek Tagalog as he is the only one who can make it exactly the way lola does. I am glad to report that I watched him closely as he was making it - even volunteered to be the sous chef - so I will make it for dinner tomorrow.

The day before my flight, the entire family celebrated my aunt and cousin's birthdays. I made some of my specialty meals, and we ordered a bunch of other food. Of course, there was cake.

I flew back to Switzerland on the 7th. I arrived on Friday at 8 in the morning, unpacked my stuff, ate pancit canton, and fell asleep at 16hr. I woke up at 3am still tired, but I managed to clean up and do all the laundry. I was hanging clothes at the balcony even before the sun was out. I found it hilarious. The rest of the day, I spent on the couch still feeling quite sluggish and brushing off the fact that I was having chills, and my nose wouldn't stop running.

Jon and I went on a quick café date and I couldn't taste the coffee nor the pastry I ordered which I found strange but thought nothing of. We did errands and bought groceries but I started feeling sicker as the hours passed. As soon as we got home, I checked to see if I had covid. The test came out positive. Dinner wasn't much fun. I was much sicker so I couldn't enjoy the food Jon prepared for me - he made me the perfect steak which I couldn't taste hahaha and some soup to make me feel better.

This morning, I woke up at 5am and called my family right away. The symptoms are getting worse, and now I have chills, body pains, and constant headache. I will rest more so I can feel better by tomorrow. I just find this to be a silly end to an incredible summer.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

[littlepadika]

could you do what ever daddy javi with a picky eater and he’s trying to get them to eat something new? i’m a very picky eater i literally live off chicken nuggies and mac & cheese lol 💕

haha chicken nuggies (dino nugs hehe) and mac & cheese (kraft) are soooo good😋. I would eat it every day too but that combo is constipation nation lmao. At least for me.

Warnings: DDLG, age regression, spanking

AN: This actually got me so soft. It's soooo cute. I love most foods but i don't like cooking ugh👩🏻‍🍳. This gif looks like Papi Javi

Everyone is of legal consenting age. Unseen conversation was had between both parties discussing boundaries and safe word

Daddy Javi makes your meal and puts it on your special plate with everything separated and then makes his own food. He will always put a bite of whatever he's having on your plate. All he asks is that you eat that small taster to be polite to him. After all he made your meal for you. He has you drink ensure and pedialyte to get your other nutrients.

If you're feeling bratty that day, you refuse even that small amount. You throw a full on tantrum. Every time you protest, what does he do? He takes a bite of your mac and cheese, slowly taking more away. It makes you so mad but he's able avoid your weak strikes, restraining you in his lap.

"You're so mean, Papi." You thrash. "That's my mac and cheese."

"I'm not mean. You're the mean little girl who isn't eating what I prepared for you. Do you think Papi would give you something that tastes bad?"

"But it just looks so gross."

"That's a mean thing to say. You're hurting Papi's feelings, bebita." If you kept on fighting he has have no choice but to give you spankings and send you to bed without dinner and milkies.

He gets tired of practically cooking two meals every day so he tries a different tactic. He lets you pick the dinner and you go to the grocery store to pick up all the ingredients. He wants you to feel like you have control over what you eat so you may like it more. First you start out with stuff you like, like chicken strips, pizza, and pasta. Eventually you start branching out after seeing pretty pictures in cook books.

Now that you were helping him in the kitchen you realize that Javi has to do this for you every day to keep you fed. And it's more fun when you do it together.

You get to set the table however you'd like with your pink plates and polka dot napkins. You even get Javi to light some candles. You want to enjoy the meal after all the work you put in.

"Papi I really like this!" You wave your fork happily.

"It's delicious, bebita. Good job!"

"You were a good sous chef, Papi."

"Do I get a reward for being a good helper?"

"Yes!" You climb into his lap. "You get kissies!"

"You've got enchilada sauce on your mouth, silly." He chuckles brushing it off you.

You come to love cooking and Javi buys you pretty (and sexy) aprons, cook books, your own set of pots and pans and tools (except for knives. Only papi can use knives). And he buys you a stuffed bear to keep you company in the kitchen. You name him Cookie.

"Okay Cookie it's time to add the cheese on top." You dump the whole bag into the pan.

"Woah that's a lot of cheese bebita!"

"That's what the respee says."

"Okay. I trust your judgement my little chef."

He will use Cookie to guilt you a little if you're not eating.

"Bebita, Cookie will be sad if you don't like the food. He worked so hard on it."

"I'm sorry cookie." You'd pout at the bear in the chair next to you. "I just don't like the green part."

"Maybe eat around the green stuff. The rest is very yummy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My masterlist

[azuregiggles]

The Bold and The Honk: Ler!George Lee!Karl

With a brief Ler!Quackity, Ler!Dream and Ler!SapNap

ALL PLATONIC

Author Notes: Sorry this took a bit longer than I thought it would! But it's finally here!!!

Words: 3314

WARNINGS: Swearing, I think that's it let me know if you think something else should be a warning.

SUMMARY: George is in a rather big Ler mood and is desperate to wreck someone. Lucky for him there are four others in the Feral household and so his search for a lee begins.

It was a rather ordinary day in the feral boys household each man was doing something rather independently. Dream was taking his fifth nap of the day though it was only noon. SapNap was editing in his office. Quackity was practicing making a few different dishes for a cooking stream they all had planned for later in the week and Karl was assisting him. That left George.

He was supposed to be working on his most recent video for his seemingly neglected YouTube channel but he just couldn’t get up the momentum he needed in order to focus. His mind was far too busy putting him in a very interesting mood. He watched his own fingers tap away at the keys and couldn’t help but imagine the squeaks and giggles it would make rather than its ‘click clack’ if it were a person beneath his fingers instead.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers running through his already messy hair. This only made him think of Karl and how he’d melt if someone lightly scratched his head. A fond smile crossed his lips. Living among the four other men he’d grown accustomed to the various and constant forms of affection. If any of them wanted a specific affection such as to cuddle there was always another Feral around to ensure they were helped and happy.

Gogy’s mind wandered back to tickling and how much it meant to the five of them. If ever one of them was in need of cheering up or just a smile this was a much favored method to get the crew back into a chipper mindset. Occasionally one of them would even ask to be on the receiving end and the friends would oblige with no questions. George was in the opposite mood however. He wanted to be on the giving end of things right now. He felt as though he needed it.

George was rarely one to be in a lee mood. He was often neutral until one of the others was under attack, then he’d join the offensive. Right now though, he was far from neutral, he was completely in a ler mood and ready to wreck someone. He trudged his way down the hall to Dream’s room and poked his head in the door. The green hooded man had clearly just woken up, his hair was tousled and his eyes were struggling to stay open. George tapped lightly on the door. Looking up Dream groaned jokingly “Ewwww what do you want?”

“I need you to help me with a certain mood I’m in?”

“What mood exactly?”

George stepped into the room until he was next to Dream “I’m in a ler mood and I really wanna tickle someone. You’ll help me right, Dreamy?” He poked his friend in the side.

“Absolutely nahahat! I just woke up! Go awahay!” The green one giggled and gave George a playful shove towards the door. George moved over to him again and ruffled his already messy hair with a grin.

“Fine sleepyhead, but don’t come to me with your next lee mood. I won’t be nice about it.”

“Whatever just get outta here dumbass.” Dream chuckled, swatting the offending hand away.

George decided to leave and continue his search for his next victim. Next he checked with Sap who was content at his desk. He leaned over the man’s shoulder. “Saaappppp” he whined.

“Geeoorrrggggeeeee” Sapnap mockingly whined back. “What’s up Gogs?”

“Can you help meee?”

“With what? Be specific.” Sap chuckled, eyes on the screen. George placed his hands on the ravenette’s sides, who tensed and smiled.

“I wanna tickle someone, like wreck them.”

“I’m editing go tickle Dream!” He playfully swatted Gogy’s hands away.

“He’s just woken up and won’t let me.”

“Then try Quackity.”

“He’s cooking.”

“Then tickle Karl, you know he loves it.” Sap giggled and pushed his friend towards the door “We can’t all procrastinate Gogs, I need to finish this video.” The door closed on him, Sap had returned to editing.

Editing had its own kind of fun but nothing would entertain the streamer the way his friends’ reactions did. SapNap was the proudest of the bunch, always holding out on laughing for as long as possible and will deny any compliments till the bitter end. Would have been an excellent target.

Dream was a screamer, his constant wheezing and endless sass made him an interesting lee to say the least. He always claimed to hate being tickled but the word ‘stop’ seemed to leave his vocabulary at the smallest poke. Unfortunately he was still drowsy and as such off the list.

Quackity was an involuntary fighter, the kind you have to pin a bit if you don’t wanna get punched or kicked. His hysterical laughter is always filled with a sailor’s worth of swearing no matter how much fun he’s having. George didn’t feel like getting potentially injured though. Another lee bites the dust.

Karl, on the other hand, was pure gold. The most ticklish, easily flustered by compliments and teasing but also not too embarrassed to admit that he loves the affectionate bonding that was tickling. His laughter was always full of cute noises like hiccups and snorts. But above all, since he enjoyed it, he was the one of George’s friends who could last the longest. Perfect.

Sir Not Found made his way to the basement, the Feral Cave as they all called it. With large sofas for streaming console games together and a large kitchen for cooking streams like the one Quackity was currently preparing for. Karl was presently attempting to flip an omelet and failing miserably.

“Oi! It’s a wild Gogy! In my kitchen!? The fuck is this!?” Quackity announced George’s arrival.

“Hey George! Wanna watch me pop off? I’m the omelet flipping champion.” Karl boasted and Quack rolled his eyes.

“You’ve dropped that same egg blob like five times, good thing no ones gonna eat it, they’d die on the first bite.” Quack told him.

George, who hadn’t said a word, walked into the kitchen and behind Karl. He slipped his arms around his friend’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Uhhuh George?” Karl’s tone was nervous and giddy. “Everything okay?”

George decided not to beat around the bush “I’m in a terrible ler mood. Lemme tickle you?” He gently poised his hands on Karl’s sides.

Karl froze and his cheeks turned red “Wh-What? How can you just ask that?” The room was already filled with his nervous giggles. He tensed in George’s hold, anticipating an attack. “B-Besides I’m helping Quack right now.”

“Oooh Karl’s in trouble Gogy’s in his bold arc!” Quackity teased. “You can have him Gogs, he’s a terrible sous chef anyway!”

“Hey!” Karl protested.

“Pleeaaasssseee Karl?” George tightened his hold, effectively hugging the other man who slightly melted into his arms.

“Oh fu-honk, okay. Please just-“ he was cut off as he was promptly thrown over George’s shoulder and carried towards the couches. His sweater paws now covered his face. He let out a yelp as he was plopped onto the sofa.

“Damn Gogy, you’re down bad. Must be one hell of a ler mood. Karl you’re so fucked” Quackity called from across the room.

Karl was far too giggly to respond. He covered his face and squirmed as George sat on his waist. “I don’t know where this mood came from. I just really needed to wreck someone. I tried Sap but he’s editing and told me to ask Karl because Karl. Loves. Being. Tickled. So. So. Much.” If there were any doubt that Karl was blushing before there was no room for argument now, with each word George poked Karl in the ribs, sending him into a giggle fit full of squeaks as his face flushed red.

“Sahahap is duhuhumb.” Karl offered.

“Mm-hm, and you’re ticklish! Now where’s that adorable laughter Karl? Please don’t keep me waiting. Your face has gone red you’re like a raspberry!” George reminded him by tasering his sides, earning a squeal. “Any specific requests from our little web star i-Karlee?”

Karl was in tease hell. When did George come up with a nickname like that!? His blush began to spread up to his ears and he made a series of flustered sputters as he tried to form words. He shook his head no.

“So I can just go for it?”

Karl nodded.

“Do you want me to start slow or wreck you? Your face is getting darker, how cute! Is that red Quackity? I need help confirming since I’m colorblind” George wiggled his fingers in the air.

More sputters left Karl’s lips. When did Gogy get so good at teasing? “I-I do-don’t” he squealed again as his sides were tasered once more.

“That’s not an answer~”

“J-Juhuhust” Karl tried to think through his giggles. He would die if this teasing continued. Unsure if he could handle being wrecked immediately he chose what he thought was the safer option. “Slohohow fihihirst”

“Aww~ anything for you i-Karlee!” George started by lightly scratching along his friend’s lower belly.

“Nahahaha!” Karl covered his mouth and snorted.

“Oh~ how adorable, you sound just like techno! Do it again!” George scratched around Karl’s navel.

“George NOHO!” He squealed and kicked his legs out behind the ravenette above him. Trying his best to not snort again he grabbed a nearby pillow and used it to muffle the noise.

“Now now, don’t hide from me Karl. You’ll only make it worse~” he teased and pinched along Karl’s lower rib, just enough to make him let go of the pillow. Karl snorted again as George returned his attention to his navel.

“Oh? Does this little piggy have a ticklish button? This one here?” He poked his finger inside and wiggled it around.

A small cackle resounded from the brunette “NAHAHA dohohoHOHOnt!” He whined and squirmed left to right.

“I believe the rhyme goes whee whee whee whee all the way home Karl” wriggling digits spidered up Karls sides and ribs, right to his armpits. Arms snapped down as bubbly laughter filled the air. “Do you think this is a good home for them?”

“OHOHOUT! G-GEHEHET OUT! NOHOHAHAHA” Karl bucked up and down trying to wrench the attacking fingers from his hallows.

“I’d love to but it seems as though I’m stuck here. What am I to do Karl? You’ve trapped me.”

“SLOHOHOW DOHOHOWN” Karl pleaded and snorted once more his face scrunched.

“Alright but you’ll have to lift your arms if I do~” Gogy warned him but slowed down to give his friend a breather.

Very hesitant arms lifted to free George's hands. As promised Gogy removed his hands from Karl’s armpits and began scanning for his next target. Karl took deep breaths and closed his eyes as he giggled and rubbed away the phantom tickles.

“Would you like to play a little game i-Karlee?”

“Whahat kind ohohof game?” He blushed at the nickname.

“It’s simple really, you keep your arms up as I count your ribs. If you snort I start over, If you bring your arms down that’s ten seconds of tickling on your worst spot.”

“You’re evil”

“That’s not a no Karl~”

“Sh-shut up”

“Is that a yes?”

“I… I mean-... It’s more of a…”

“Arms uuup~ up, up ,up.” George coaxed him and smirked.

Karl’s arms betrayed him as he felt his head rest on his hands, his arms up and behind his head. He knew he’d never made it through this counting game before without his arms coming down. He knew it was a trap and yet he couldn’t help the anticipatory giggles that poured from his mouth.

“Wow you must be in a lee mood if you’re being this obligatory. I’m honored.”

Karl avoided eye contact, his blush returning.

“Awww~ I knew he’d be willing to help you George” Sapnap’s voice came from the kitchen where he was now helping Quackity clean. “Karl loves to be tickled.”

“Is that what all the noise is?” A still half-awake Dream fumbled down the stairs and flopped onto his beanbag chair that was just out of view of their stream setup. Karl’s hands moved back to covering his face.

“It certainly is Dream! He’s helping me with my Ler mood.” Gogy supplied.

“Aww~ How sweet of him. Oh my god, look at how red he is.” He scoffed, “Since he loves to be tickled so much it’s a win win. Having fun Karl?” Dream chuckled and watched the two from afar. The glint in his eye made Karl nervous again.

“Now where were we?” George returned his attention to a very flustered Jacobs “Ah yes~ Put those arms back up, please.”

A tiny squeak and the raising of arms was all Gogy needed to begin. He started at the top rib, knowing that, when it came to his ribs, Karl’s were more ticklish the lower they were. Karl gave a surprised squeal and began to wiggle around, his arms already threatened to drop.

“Oooonnneee~ stay still for me okay i-Karlee?”

“i-Karlee? Really George” Sap laughed “that’s so dumb.”

“Twooo~ such a pretty laugh”

“Karl seems to like it~” Quackity chimed in.

“Threeeee~! You’re changing color again. Is it magic?”

“Aww does little Jacobs love his new nickname?” Dream added to the verbal assault.

“SHUT THE HONK UP” Karl was losing it. All of his friends' teasing was getting to him far more than the actual tickling. “Plehehehease! You buhuhunch of nihihimrods! I’m gohohonna dihihiie”

“That’s not very nice Karl!” George smirked as he continued counting ribs silently “you should apologize~”

Karl shook his head no. He knew what he was getting into.

“Oh? Feeling sassy all of a sudden?”

“You gonna take that from a lee George?” Dream instigated, ignoring the slow rise of butterflies in his own stomach. The tickling stopped.

“What are you dohohoing?” Karl gave nervous glances to both of them. He’d expected to be wrecked, not ignored.

“Apologize or you’ll be punished” George told him.

“Try me” Karl taunted.

“Oh I’m not going to tickle you into apologizing, quite the opposite actually.”

“What? How does that-?”

“If you don’t apologize no one gets to tickle you for a week. Even if you ask.”

“That’s just evil Gogy you know Karl can’t go a day without a lee mood” Sapnap added.

“Holy shit, Gogy’s villain arc!? Ooohhh you better apologize Karl~” Quackity watched them with excitement.

“Well what’s it gonna be?” George looked at Karl again “say sorry and I’ll wreck you properly” wiggling fingers hovered over Karl’s lower ribs.

“O-okay I’m sorry.” Karl hid his face again “please tickle me” he squirmed in place. A flood of adoring comments from the other four men filled his ears. Karl’s face returned to a lovely shade of red as he sputtered and giggled.

“Aww he even said please, now you gotta ruin him good Gogs.” Quackity laughed.

“I intend to. You three help me a bit?” George ignored Karl’s giggly protests “don’t tickle him, just tease.”

The trio grinned and gathered around. Sapnap was behind Karl, arms around his waist. Dream was on his beanbag he’d dragged over beside the couch. Quackity was laying on the back of the sofa. George, in front of Karl, positioned his hands on the brunettes knees.

“Ready Karl?” George asked him in a teasy tone but wanted to make sure he wasn’t crossing a line.

Pulling his hood over his eyes, giggling frantically, Karl nodded. A shriek was caught in his laughter as it began. George kneaded the spot above each knee and scribbled beneath them whenever the chance arose. He grinned at the bubbly laughter filled the air, mixed with snorts and cackles. Now this was the kind of lee interaction he’d needed.

“Awwww, how cute your knees are so sensitive~” SapNap cooed directly into his ear.

“How is your laughter so sweet Karl. I literally don’t understand how it can be so endearing” Quackity chimed in from his perch. George was currently kneading Karl’s sides making the younger squeal in lighthearted protest. Tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks.

“Better not let the fans see you blush like this Karl~” Dream chuckled “They’d lose their shit. Imagine Karl can’t open social media without see everyone saying how adorable he is~”

Another shriek pierced the air as hands squeezed Karl’s hips on rapid fire. Karl leaned back into Sapnap to avoid bucking away from the touch. Sap chuckled and blew gently on his ears, not touching him but it tickled Karl just enough to make him scrunch up his shoulders and kick out his legs a bit.

All the while Dream and Quackity continued to ruffle Karl’s hair and showered him with teasing words and praise. “Aww was that a snort Karlos~”

“You look like you’re loving this Karl~”

Karl’s struggling car to a stop and he melted into the sofa and Sap’s embrace. His mind was really foggy but he knew he was happy. He felt safe even in moments like this because he knew his friends would never take it too far. Three people teasing as one wrecked him physically was a new but welcomed experience for the lee. After another couple of minutes the tickling was only a gentle skittering across his neck, making him melt as he caught his breath,

“I think I’m satisfied, how about you Karl? Did you get your fill?” George checked.

“Uhuhuh just ohohone more tihihing?” Karl giggled shyly.

A flood of awes filled the air, making him hide his face once again.

“And what would that be?~” George paused for an answer.

“R-Raspberries” A familiar heat arose to his features.Due to keeping his face in his sweater paws Karl missed the mischievous grins and looks that passed between the other four. A silent plan formed.

“What!? Gogy forgot your raspberries? How rude, don’t worry I’ve got your back Karl.~” Sap said into his ear. Karl knew exactly what that tone was and barely had time to speak before a raspberry was blow onto his neck by Sapnap.

“SAHAHAP WHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?”

“Oi! Look what you’ve done Nappitus!” Quackity was using his chef voice again “You’ve upset Karl and made ’im sweah! You should know his favorite spot is right ‘ere!” With that he blew a raspberry upon Karl’s ribs.

“QUAHAHAHCK STAHAHAHAP” Karls shriekd but made no attempt to escape.

“You’re doing it wrong it’s riiight here~” Dream took in a huff of air.

Karl’s hands shot down from his face just in time to see his roommates’s lips reach his side “DREHEHEAM NOHOHOOOO- ACK” His whine was cut off by a yelp and a flood out loud, bright laughter. Dream smirked and continued.

“Now, now we should all know that Karl’s belly is his favorite~” George had to speak loudly to be heard over the symphony of sensations that were currently driving poor Karl insane. Karl squirmed and sputtered half hearted protests as George leaned down and took in a large breath. The vibrations sent a shock through Karl’s core and left him laughing silently. A chorus of raspberries on his four worst yet favorite spots was causing him to feel exhausted. Noticing this his quartet of lers each gave him one last raspberry before helping him rub away the phantom tickles. They all hugged him and showered him with praise for holding out.

“Thahahahat was mehehean” Karl giggled and hiccuped in the pile of an embrace.

“Was it too much?” George asked, a bit worried. Karl blushed and shook his head no.

“Did you love it Karl~?” Dream chided. Karl nodded, sweater paws covering his face.

“Awwww~ Karlos~” Quackity hugged him a bit tighter.

“Sh-shut up” Karl couldn’t hide the grin in his voice and the group laughed together. They stayed piled up for a while but eventually Dream and Quackity wandered off leaving Sapnap stranded under George and Karl who had managed to fall asleep on top of him.

[mae-gi-writes]

hi maemae, what about i got you by bebe rexha with either ju/sangyeon? 🙈

AHHHH Yu! MY NUMBER ONE MOOT WHO’S BEEN THERE FROM DAY 1! I HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR REQUEST <3 Heree we go for some sangyeon feels 🌹🌹🌹 Also I got carried away with this but oh welll this is what happens when you’re on a roll xx

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I got you | l. sangyeon

Song request: I Got You - BeBe Rexha

Genre: angst/fluff

Everything has been so hard. 

Your work. Your social life. Your eating habits. Your entire life. 

You’ve carved yourself into a hole that keeps on crumbling upon you, piles and piles of responsibility that keep getting thrust in your face the more you try struggling. Work has turned into a boring, monotonous routine of getting to the office, spending eight hours straight staring at your screen, then going back home and collapsing onto your bed with no energy left. You haven’t seen your friends since forever and your phone which usually blew up with messages is now silent and empty, void of any human interaction that you crave for. 

It’s harder these days because of the pandemic and you know that this will pass eventually. You just can’t seem to figure out how.

Which is why you find yourself drowning in a bottle of wine by the time Friday evening rolls around. Sitting outside upon your porch and letting its bittersweet aftertaste drip down your throat like medicine, you’re not quite sure what you’re aiming for really -- whether it be to throw up or pass out -- until there’s a soft knock at your door.

Groggily opening up with a confused frown, you see none other than Sangyeon’s face and immediately reel back with shock. 

“What are you doing here?!” you screech out. If you had known, you would’ve tried making an effort with your appearance! Unconsciously, your hand finds its way to your hair in an attempt to detangle its knots.

“You look terrible,” is his response. He doesn’t wait before blundering past you into the kitchen and settling down what looks like a bunch of takeaway containers, “Why have you been avoiding my calls?” 

You flinch out of impulse. He’s right; you have been avoiding your maybe-boyfriend most of all, merely due to the fact that you can’t help feeling like a failure and wondering how lowly he must think of you. 

Sangyeon is the epitome of a hard worker, starting out as a mere waiter in a quaint noodle shop and toiling hard for two years before he got promoted as a sous-chef. Then, his manager has seen so much potential in him that Sangyeon got appointed as the head chef a year later. 

You know all this because you’ve seen him go through it and grow through every single obstacle sent his way, circulating in the same friend group and sharing the same passion for food. However, it hasn’t been long since this friendship has slowly budded into something you’d like to believe is a start of a romance.

Not that either of you made it clear. It’s something, but what? You’re not quite sure yourself. 

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” 

“Huh?” you snap back to reality, blushing upon realizing the lack of distance between your faces, “oh--sorry. What did you say?” 

“I asked you why you’ve been avoiding my calls,” there’s a tone of exasperation in his voice. But a little more than that. You’d like to believe that it’s concern, “are you okay, Y/N? You really look like--” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, turning away before he can spot the slight tremble in your lip, the slow tears building at the corner of your eyes. 

A warm hand grasps your forearm, “tell me.” 

It’s an order. One that you can’t help to oblige. You swivel around slowly, embarrassed that he -- your biggest crush -- gets to see you like this, in such a horrible, vulnerable state. 

You hate it. Yet, once the tears start silently carving silvery paths down your cheeks, there’s no stopping them. 

Sangyeon pulls you into his chest with a soft sigh, allowing his arms to encircle your waist while one of his hands comb through your hair. You cry silently in his shoulder, fully aware of the growing wetness seeping through his shirt, but his grip doesn’t lessen when you try tugging back. 

Instead, he holds you a little tighter, murmuring into your ear, “come on, let it out.” 

You’ve never been a fan of loud crying. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so used to keeping in your sobs, stuffing your blanket into your mouth in order to restrain the tears, the pain, the suffering. But Sangyeon stays even so, hand continuously smoothing along your head and down your back in a way that renders you soft and mellow against him.

When you have no tears left to cry, he does the job of pulling away slightly so that his face hovers just millimetres from your own. You hope you don’t look like shit.

“I brought you some pasta,” he murmurs, “cooked by yours truly.” 

And you swear it’s the best fucking pasta you’ve ever eaten in your life. You’re not entirely sure how you manage to finish a whole plate -- considering you’d barely had any appetite these days -- but you have to admit that you feel much, much better after finally leaning back into your cheek with a full stomach.

Sangyeon eyes you from his side of the table, chuckling at the look of satisfaction on your face. 

“What?” you’re about to scowl, but then remember that you shouldn’t put your walls up so high. It’s only Sangyeon. Only Sangyeon.

"Should’ve started by giving you the pasta,” his eyes, warm and tender and just so fucking beautiful, sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen, “maybe then you wouldn’t have cried over my shirt.” 

“Oh shut up,” you snap back half-heartedly. He knows there’s no bite to your tone. 

His leg nudges yours underneath the table and, prompted to gaze up at him, he asks, “what’s going on, Y/N?” 

You bite your lower lip. Eyes fixing onto the table top before you, you decide to spill everything. Everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sangyeon’s voice is rough wth concern, annoyance that permeates through. But you’re adamant on not making eye contact, so adamant that you hear his chair scrape back, then the soft pad of his feet over to your side of the table.

Warm fingers cup your chin, leaving you with no choice but to face him as your eyes quickly slip downwards.

"I didn't want to trouble you," is what spills from your lips in a soft murmur, "I'm not used to people worrying about me and I guess...I just got used to it. Dealing with that shit on my own."

You don't have to look at him to know that his gaze is soft and warm. It makes you want to curl up in his lap and burrow your face into hid chest, away from the world.

As if reading your mind, Sangyeon tugs you closer so that he can hug you properly, "I got you," his murmur brushes against your ear, "I got your back Y/N. And you can tell me anything. I don't care if you think it's none of my business. I want to know."

He holds you in silence for a while, the only sound echoing through your ears being his heartbeat. A soft thumping against his chest, vibrating with every breath taken.

It's almost like a miracle, the way your body softens underneath his touch like it has been waiting for him all along. With Sangyeon there, it feels easier to breathe, not to think so much.

"Thank you," you whisper, clearing your throat. You repeat yourself once more for good measure, to which he chuckles and presses the lightest of kisses atop your head.

"Next time, you'll tell me. Right?" He cocks his head to look at you.

You pull back slightly to gaze up at him in the dim back light of the dining room. It's crappy lighting and yet, it curves along his features so nicely.

"Fine," you mumble after realizing you hadn't answered him yet, "I'll try."

A smile breaks over his face. He kisses your cheek then, causing heat to spring up over your face, "that's a promise then."