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[itsprashimusic]

Maybe Leave The Cooking To Me

Summary - You love to cook, and Lando loves to help, but this time it goes sideways.

Pairings - Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Warnings - minor injury, reader has good relationship with parents, reader is same age as Lando, fluffy.

W/C - 1.4k

A/N - my first fic for f1 lets gooo Happy reading<3

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 It was the end of a triple header meaning that now you had a break you were craving. The Monday meetings were done with, you and Lando were on the flight back to your Monaco apartment. The exhaustion caught up with you and the both of you were out within seconds of your heads hitting your pillows. 

It was now a Tuesday night. There was some music playing in the living room, Lando was somewhere in the house, and you were in the kitchen. You wouldn’t call yourself a chef, but you loved to cook and learn new recipes. Travelling the world with Lando made it so that you would not get to cook very often, so when you did get to cook you would take the chance.

You sat on the counter contemplating what to cook. Before you shifted to Monaco your mom had written out a recipe book for you with all different kinds of recipes which she had found and curated to your and your family's taste and liking. So you sat on the counter, reading through the fat book.

"Babe, what do you wanna eat?" you yelled to Lando, your eyes still focused on the book. You didn't get a reply, but 5 seconds later he walked into the kitchen. "I'm not really sure," he said while walking up to you. He walked in between your legs and tilted the book in your hands so that he could read it.

"Oo, how about spaghetti? You always say how you wanted to make it." He said and pointed to it. "By that I meant making it from scratch. It is too late to do that." you reply and turn the page.

"Then just boil the spaghetti we have and make the sauce." The excitement in your eyes when you heard him say that made him chuckle. You got off the counter and began rummaging around the kitchen looking for all the ingredients. "Red sauce?" "Red sauce" he confirms. You get out the tomatoes, chillies, garlic, herbs and spices while Lando takes out the spaghetti.

You give him the simple task of watching the pasta boil and reminding you when it was 20 minutes. He dutifully did his task and even drained the water and left the spaghetti in the colander. It was getting late and the two of you were growing hungrier, but knew that the food would be worth the wait.

While waiting for the boiled tomatoes to cool you were cutting some onions and garlic. "Can you get the grinder out?" you asked Lando. He was a bit deep in thought, so only hummed before retrieving the asked for item. "What are you thinking about?" "I could've overtaken Russel at turn 14." he said.

"Baby, it's ok," you abandoned the half cut onions and wiped your hands. You walked over to Lando and gently made him look at you, "Could you have done something then? Yes. Can you do anything about it now? No. It's no use dwelling on something that can't be changed. The best you can make of it, is to be aware of it and try and avoid repeating it in the future. Hmm?" you hummed at the end with a nod. Lando looked at you and nodded along.

To get his mind off of the last race you got him to make good use of his muscles and crush some dried chillies. The cooking went on. You peeled the tomatoes, put them in the grinder and set up the wok on the stove. Lando was slicing some pieces of soft chicken which he wanted you to add in the sauce.

The sauce was half ready when you turned the gas off and went to the sink to wash your hands. "Is it done?" he asked you. 'No' you told him and dried your hands, "It still has some chunks which didn't get ground." This is where your casual Tuesday night took a turn.

Lando, being the muppet he is who can't cook, poured the chunky liquid into the grinder bowl, covered it and put it on the machine. You then faced him and saw what he did. But you did not have enough time to tell him to not do what he was about to do.

He turned the knob and within less than a second the hot tomato sauce spewed out of the bowl and all over you, Lando and your cosy kitchen.

You would expect that a formula 1 driver's quick reflexes would not just be limited to when they are driving. But if you saw the scene inside Lando and his girlfriend's kitchen on a Tuesday night after a triple header, you would be greeted with quite the opposite. The once clean kitchen was now covered in red food. You and Lando were covered in near-boiling hot pasta sauce.

When the sauce spewed out, Lando's first reaction was to let out a slightly high-pitched scream and you quickly turned the loud nightmare-like-sounding machine off. Neither of you said anything, you just looked around the kitchen, taking in the mess, processing what happened, and slowly registering the pain you felt where the sauce lay on your bare skin.

Thankfully most of the spilt sauce got on your t-shirts and not on either of your faces, but some did reach your arms. Lando was the first to say something "Ow, that hurts, that's-that's starting to burn, ouch." Without wasting much time, you grabbed his arm and took him to the bathroom. You turned the shower on, "keep your arm under the water. Do. Not. Move."

You went to the sink and shed your tomato-covered top and left it there. You got Lando to do the same and then joined him by putting your own, now slightly burnt, arms under the spray of cold water. "Baby, why did you start the grinder with a hot liquid inside of it?" you asked him, your voice soft and full of concern, "I'm not mad, just wanna know why."

"You said you had to grind it." His voice sounded broken, you wanted to hug him tight and never let go. "Lan, you have to wait till it has cooled down. The steam inside created pressure which caused the lid to pop open and the sauce to scatter everywhere." He just gave a quiet 'oh' in response.

"How much of your arm got burnt?" you asked and he showed you the parts which hurt. You left the bathroom and came back with two handkerchiefs and ice packs. With the help of rubber bands you secured the ice packs to his forearms. "Where are you going?" he asked when the two of you changed your clothes.

"To clean the kitchen and salvage whatever is left of the sauce."

"Let me help, please."

How could you say no to that face he was making? After some back and forth he got you to also attach an ice pack to your forearm. you grumbled but nevertheless allowed him to take care of you.

You both clean in silence. He cleaned the counter, cupboards and the grinder while you cleaned up the floor where most of the sauce got. 10 minutes later the now salvaged sauce was on the gas with the chicken in and almost ready to eat.

Lando got out two plates and served you both some spaghetti. Your stomach rumbled, which made him giggle. The two of you quickly began laughing. Some people process and handle things by crying, some yell, some throw things around the house and some just sit in silence and wallow and wither away. But you had a different way of coping with emotions and stress. By laughing. That was one thing you and your boyfriend had in common. You both would laugh to process things.

It was kind of the reason the two of you got together in the first place.

Soon the sauce was ready and was severed. You both took your plates and forks and sat on the couch, something ready to play on the TV. The ice packs had come off by then, but Lando insisted on wrapping the cold napkin around the red part of your hand which was not covered in ice earlier.

He finished wrapping your arm and you leaned forward to kiss his nose. Before you could reach though, his lips caught yours in a short but sweet kiss. You both ate your spaghetti and watched what was playing on the TV, occasionally making comments about it here and there.

"Babe"

"Yea?"

"Next time, maybe leave cooking to me?"

"I’m with you a 100 percent on that one" 

A/N - this fic came to be because I read a lando fic where reader was eating chicken pasta and decided to cook spaghetti for the first time and ended up burning myself(dw i'm fine, the burn was very minor)

Hope you enjoyed reading<3

[peppermintquartz]

Prompt: laundry day

Tommy does not want to wake up. It's the day he has to do Most Dreaded Chore: Laundry.

He's certain that if he does go to hell because of the whole gay thing, his punishment will be to do laundry for eternity. Sorting. Washing. Drying. Ironing. Folding. Hunting down stray socks.

Before he even runs the dryer, he will need to clean out the lint trap and then check the vent. The past week the 217 ground crew had to help with not one, not two, but three houses that caught fire because of vents clogged up with lint. Tommy is feeling a little paranoid.

Grumbling, he rolls out of bed and pulls on the very last shirt and pants combo he has left: a faded green tee with holes in the side and a pair of purple shorts from his, let's say more... exhibitionist, days.

He's trying to work out whether Evan's teal sweater should be parked under delicates or darks when the owner of the sweater enters the bedroom, armed with a tray of breakfast. It smells so good that Tommy's stomach rumbles loudly in complaint, but Tommy doesn't move. No eating until the first load is in the machine.

"Hey, you're up," Evan says brightly. He sets the tray of food on the nightstand and joins Tommy on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how to wash this sweater," Tommy says.

Evan takes it, looks at the label, and glances around. "Honey, what is your system?"

"Darks here, lights here. Then tops, bottoms, socks and underwear." Tommy points to each pile. Then he holds up the knit sweater. "I don't know if this will shrink in the wash or not."

Evan stares at him. Then he heaves a sigh. "Okay. How have you mastered flying a chopper but don't know how to sort dirty laundry? Go. Have breakfast. I'll do this round and then I'll teach you."

"What? No, there's no need-"

"Thomas Kinard. Go eat the breakfast I cooked for you. Drink your coffee made the way you like it." Evan hauls Tommy to his feet and pushes him in the direction of the bed, smacking his ass in his tiny purple shorts for good measure. "Don't even come near this part of the room until you've finished breakfast."

Bossy Evan is very sexy in Tommy's eyes, but his hunger for actual food outvotes his libido. As he scarfs down scrambled eggs and pancakes, Evan is re-sorting the pile, muttering under his breath that he should put up a chart of care tags here and at Eddie's, this is why home economics should be mandatory for grown adults living alone, etc.

Tommy is about halfway through when Evan carts the first load off to the laundry room. Eyeing the piles left behind warily, Tommy wonders what complicated system he's going to learn.

Evan comes back. "Finish your food," he orders. But he's smiling as he says it, so clearly Tommy's lack of competence in washing his dirty clothes has not turned him off yet.

"Thank you," Tommy says, "for the food and for that." He gestures to the piles on the floor.

Evan joins him on the bed, accepting a slice of tomato from the end of Tommy's fork. "A third of those clothes are mine anyway." He chews and swallows. "Anyway, you had some concept, so it's not like I had to do it from scratch." Then, as Tommy eats the rest of his breakfast, Evan talks about reading care labels, sorting by color and fabric, and how he learned to hand wash delicates after ruining some very expensive lingerie belonging to an ex-girlfriend.

Tommy can't look away from Evan's animated face and the way he can't keep his hands still as he speaks, and he thinks, I want to keep him forever.

"Move in with me," Tommy says.

Evan stops mid-spiel. "What?"

"Move in with me," Tommy repeats. "Not... Not because you can cook or do the laundry, that's not the reason why I'm saying it. It's just. I like this. I love this. The whole bit where I wake up and I don't have to remember if you're here or at the loft, and we can steal bites from each other's meals, and I can look after you the way you look after me. And you already have my key. We can meal prep together, and I can do the dirtier chores, I can scrub the toilets and unclog the vents - don't run the dryer until I do - and maintain your Jeep, and we can fall asleep together whenever we don't have overnights."

It's a lot of words for him to say at one go, and Tommy feels himself faltering near the end. Licking his lips, Tommy swallows dryly. He reaches for Evan's slack hand.

"I love you and I want to be with you as often as possible. If you prefer to keep the loft, then it's also okay, I'm not pressuring you to-"

Evan shuts him up with a firm kiss. Then he smiles into the kiss. "Yes. I'll move in with you. My lease is almost up anyway."

Tommy exhales. Then he nudges Evan's nose with his own. "Alright. Let me drink my coffee, and I'll go check on the vent, and then you can teach me how to sort our dirty clothes."

"Okay. I'm gonna go find out what you have in your kitchen so I won't bring duplicates."

[ninsletamain]

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment. 

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk. 

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing. 

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him… 

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them. 

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways. 

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now. 

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony. 

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting. 

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance. 

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door. 

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn. 

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us? 

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen. 

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air. 

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth. 

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache. 

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth. 

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass. 

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.” 

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.” 

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth. 

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt. 

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly. 

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow. 

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge. 

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his. 

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie. 

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled. 

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair. 

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?” 

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?” 

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it. 

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

[zo3mess]

Laundry girl

Summary: Laundromat is usually empty so late at night except for Adrian, until it isn’t. But there is no reason for him to get nervous around his new laundry buddy, right?

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of death, mention of period blood, foul language and that’s all? If you notice something that might be triggering, just let me know. Also female reader and no use Y/N as far as I remember.

Word count: 3.8K

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: My ongoing brain rot with Vigilante, inspiration from the song Laundry Girl from Ludo (I politely stole a lot from their lyrics) and need to practice my English before test somehow escalated into this. This is a mess, nothing makes sense idk. Honestly, I have no idea why I decided to make it public, but hey, bad content is still content right? English is not my first language, so if you see any grammar mistakes or weird words, just ignore them. However every criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

Oh, the sweet contrast of late spring. Days warm enough to let bare skin be caressed by heating sun, yet cold nights leave shivers down the spine, a fleeting reminder that the carelessness of summer is not entirely there yet. Exactly on one of those nights, Adrian found himself in a 24-hour laundromat down the street from his small apartment. Neon lights from the sign were illuminating dark streets as well as the faint lights from inside. He didn’t like that smell that lingered in the air. Fragrances from detergents that are far too strong and mix in an unpleasant whiff, plus the disinfection and the smell from forgotten socks that got stuck somewhere between a wall and washing machine. No, thanks. He could buy his own washing machine, which would be much more practical, but why make anything easy when you can make it difficult.

When Adrian entered the familiar environment, he sighed at the strong smell hitting his nose. Temperature in the laundromat was slightly warmer than the one outside, but not enough for him to take off his hoodie. Adrian settled his bag with dirty clothes on a scraped metal table in the middle of the cramped room. There was one thing he liked about this laundromat, even though it was open almost nonstop, no one was ever there late at night like he was. Usually. Sometimes few drunks were sleeping peacefully in the corner, desperately seeking just a tad bit of warmth, but as long they didn’t do anything, Adrian had no reason to pay any attention to them. Tonight was different, his regular loneliness and peace was disturbed by another person entering the room. However screeching of old doors, quick gust of cold air and heavy tired footsteps did not alert him at all.

His mind was too focused on a single task before him, getting rid of dried blood that was plastered on his black undershirt. The one he wears under his chest plate, one that was stitched up too many times from all the slashing and tearing. Will he ever buy a new one? Of course not. Not until he finds a shirt that looks and feels the same as this one. Adrian cursed the guy that got his suit in such disheveled state. That bastard deserved a bullet to his head even before he managed to get Vigilante’s suit all messy and sticky with blood.

,,Do you need help with that?” you ask with a soft voice, a smile on your face while you look at the stranger in front of you expectantly ,,I don’t want to call myself a professional, but I can pretty much clean every stain. Or at least I haven’t been defeated so far,’’

Your question caught him off guard, his hands wincing a little. Green eyes glancing up at you with startled expression. When did you get here? Were you watching him the whole time? Crouched up above his shirt, scrubbing away with bile soap, tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration. You leaned across the table, examining his work. ,,Ketchup?’’

,,Blood actually,’’ Why would it be ketchup? He doesn’t even like ketchup. It does not taste like tomatoes at all! Goddamn lying sauce. ,,I got a really bad nosebleed. I get that a lot, that’s why my clothes are always bloody.’’ No other reason of course.

,,If your clothes are always bloody you should have no problem with cleaning them right? But I gotta admit blood is a hell of an enemy when it dries and sits on the fabric for a while. Just put it in cold water to soak off, that should do it.’’

,,Why do you know so much about cleaning blood?’’ Adrian asks with suspicion in his voice. Eyebrows furrow under his glasses and his eyes stare at you intently. Paranoia creeping up on him again.

,,Well I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a woman. Periods teach you a lot. I’m not some blood-stained killer I swear.’’ You say the last sentence with a wide smile, shaking your head before returning to your own work. Throwing dirty laundry into the washing machine without even glancing back at Adrian. He was standing there with fingers tapping on the metal table, burning a hole in the back of your skull with his stare. Yeah, you better not be. He thinks to himself.

He forced a smile and went back to scrubbing, he did not have the time to soak it off, he needed it ready for tomorrow, preferably without blood. You paid him no mind and pushed the button to start the cycle. With a sigh you took out a small book from the laundry basket you brought with you and sat down on a screeching chair nestled between other washing machines. If you have to sit it out here you might as well do something productive.

,,Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” his voice made you flinch and you glanced at him absentmindedly ,,I love that movie!”

,,Book’s even better.” You acknowledged his giddiness with simple words. The truth is you enjoyed reading books after you watched movies that were based on them. Sometimes they were better, sometimes worse, but they always expanded the story and the universe.

,,Reading is for nerds plus it can’t be that much better.” Doubting Thomas, of course. Adrian quickly waved off the idea that books can be better than movies.

,,There is extremely many things that did not make it in the movie, not gonna mention directive changes. But go on, live your life without all the great details.” You returned to your reading, barely registering quiet mumbling coming from Adrian’s direction.

,,What are you doing here anyway? I come here almost every Saturday and I am alone here.” He won’t drop it, curiosity gets the better of him most of the time, why would this be any different? It is suspicious that another girl is washing her laundry in the middle of the night. The fact he is currently getting rid of blood from the undershirt he wears out to kill criminals is an entirely different story.

,,My washing machine broke and I don’t have spare money to buy a new one. I’ll be coming here until my next salary.” The other option is attempting to fix it yourself, that would be a death sentence for the washing machine and you too.

,,But why so late? It’s way past midnight.”

,,Couldn’t sleep.” You just shrugged. You did not care if he believed you or not, it was true. Your new neighbors were blasting music practically all evening, it was better to wait it out elsewhere. ,,It seems we will be meeting each other more often. I didn’t catch your name.”

,,It’s Adrian.” His voice was hesitant, suspicion rising and falling with each word you said. He’s not sure if you are a poor soul with dirty laundry or a spy hired to watch the infamous Vigilante. How would you even know his secret identity? He had no idea, but sometimes it is better to account for all possibilities. You nodded at his answer and told him your name in return. Little something he burned into the back of his mind.

The more time you spent together in the chilly room, words drowned out by buzzing washing machines, the more you got along. Starting off with awkward small talk, through petty debate whenever books are better than movies, all the way to wishing each other goodnight as well as Adrian wishing you had a monster under your bed and parting ways. Only if he knew monster wasn’t the one creeping up on you in your sleep. Thoughts of tonight busying your mind.  

------------

The second time he met you was two weeks from the last encounter, just the way he mentioned previously. This time you were there first, already occupying one machine with white clothes while the other part of your laundry sat in a basket nearby. You quickly shot him a smile and he greeted you in return.

,,You’re here early.’’ Adrian commented almost under his breath as he put full duffel bag on the table and began sorting his clothes by colors.

,,Yeah well, no reason for it really. Maybe curiosity got the best of me and I got here earlier just to see if you would came like you said you would.’’ It seems that old habits die hard. Unknown to you, Adrian was always on time in his routines. Even if he wanted to do his laundry on a different day or at a different time, his body would urge him to do things in the exact same way.

The conversation went on quite smoothly, like good old friends meeting. Usual chatter about their days, unnecessary details of “total baller” breakfast from Adrian’s side, gossip about migraine-inducing coworkers from yours. Adrian attention was glued to every word you said, piece by piece putting together a bigger picture. He can’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to talk with him and not just wave him off with dismissive answers.

,,- And then she put a fucking poster on our shared fridge. That stupid one with cat on a tree with “Hang in there” under it. And I thought our office could not get any more stereotypical,” you were throwing your hands around, visibly stating your annoyance at your coworker Debbie. ,,I don’t want to “Hang in there” I would much rather hang myself and I swear to God I will hang her in janitor’s closet if she puts another poster on the fridge or tells me a cheesy joke about how much she hates her husband, it’s not funny.”

She’s joking, Adrian, don’t sweat it out. There is no way she could kill anyone. His inner thoughts creep up to him again. From time to time, he would appreciate if his Vigilante mind left Adrian alone. ,,So uhhh… You don’t like cheesy jokes?” Yeah, great save, do not mention hanging Debbie.

,,I like jokes, just not stupid ones. To be honest I can’t remember the last time someone told me a funny joke. I guess it is a curse of modern times, humor changed.” You shrugged your shoulders and walk around the crumpled room, looking around and taking in details you missed on your first visit.

,,I could tell you a funny joke. I know plenty of them!” Adrian’s enthusiasm made you stop in your tracks. He’s just standing there, a wide smile forming on his face, fingers fidgeting with hem of dirty shirt that laid in mountain of laundry on the table in front of him.

Even if you told him no, Adrian has decided to recite every joke he knew. Some of them were horrible, some of them were… better. Yet it did not made you laugh. It was a fun game to pass the time, he told you lousy jokes and after each one he patiently waited for your reaction with puppy eyes. You, on the other hand, had tried so hard to not even let a corner of your mouth turn upwards. The bigger satisfaction it brought the more he stammered as he tried to remember another joke. Adrian could not let himself be a loser in this situation. He will not give up.

Not laughing at his jokes should be illegal. And that would make you a criminal. In that case, he would not feel bad if he had to take you out as Vigilante. And maybe if he got rid of you, he wouldn’t feel that irritating need late at night, body itching to go to the laundromat near his apartment to see if you couldn’t sleep either. If you’re scrubbing spilled wine from your shirt with cheap detergent before throwing it in a washing machine with the rest of your clothes. If you’re waiting patiently not only for your clothes to dry but also for that funny stranger with curly hair and a dorky smile to show up. Maybe then his mind would calm down again. He doesn’t need any more distractions in his head.

,,Knock knock,’’ he starts again, determined to win this imaginary joke war.

,,Come in,’’ you retort while chuckle is threatening to slip from your lips. Adrian’s arms slouch down his body, enthusiasm transforming into… Annoyance? He so desperately wants to see you smile, why can’t you comply? People usually laugh at his jokes, or more like they laugh at him. No matter the reason, people occasionally laugh in his presence alongside constant eye rolls. You haven’t done either and it is messing with him.

,,Knock knock,’’ a firmer repetition. He’s not going to get discouraged.

Determination is admirable in certain situations, in others it just leads to doom.  Like that one time when Adrian was chasing a thief down the street, low on bullets, ringing in his ears, lungs burning, but he could not forgive himself if that rat got away. All his attention was set on the dark figure way ahead of him that he did not notice a car when he sprinted across a badly lit street, ultimately knocking him down. Heavens were on his side that night, nothing serious happened except for a few nasty bruises and unrelenting remorse that haunted him following weeks. But the good kind of determination? That’s gonna win him a smile from a pretty girl in the laundromat.

,,Who’s there?’’ this time you decided to go along with his joke. These types of jokes are… foul, but you just want to see where he will land with it.

,,Honey bee,’’

,,Honey bee who?’’

,,Honey bee a dear and get that for me please?’’ Adrian says it with a wide smile and excitement in his voice. He points at your laundry beads that boost the scent. ,,It smells so good when you open it, can I try it?’’

You laugh just a bit. Fucking finally. Now Adrian felt like at the top of the world. He made you laugh, no matter if it was just a pitying laugh to get him to shut up, he decided to believe you actually found him funny and no one could take that from him. You noticed the dreamy look that plastered his face, especially when you let him borrow scented beads. Part of you cherished the fact he liked the ones you washed your clothes with every time and part of Adrian cherished the fact that now his clothes will smell like you before it wears out. That his sleeping shirt will carry part of you on those nights that he doesn’t see you here.

Wait, when did that happen? Smell of another person on his clothes should weird him out, it should give him goosebumps all over his pale skin. Why does it sound so comforting this time? Why does he want to keep part of you close? The last time he felt something similar was when his brother Gut died. They weren’t super close, but his death hit him like a train and he quite literally became a trainwreck. Adrian sat in his brother’s childhood room for hours, taking notes of all the small details, remembering the exact position of each and every piece of furniture. And at times when he felt close to breaking into tears, he took out his brother’s shirts. The familiarity and memories brought comfort. Comfort that disappeared as fast as it came.

This time he was not mourning death of someone close to him, this time he did not miss the feeling of adrenaline that he felt with Peacemaker when they shot appliances in forest or when they killed criminals together before he got locked up. This time Adrian felt a need to be close to someone he met just a few weeks ago, someone who barely knew him and had not gotten the chance to be taken back by his weirdness.

These thoughts and confusion followed him home that night. Not even the cold air could not break him out of trance. The way you laughed, the way you softly wished him goodnight when you parted ways, skin illuminated by purple neon light hanging above laundromat, and the way his now clean laundry smells like you since he begged for your scented beads. Pull yourself together Adrian.

------------------

,,I don’t understand how you might think Fargo is better than the Office or Better Call Saul for example. Saying it is the best show ever made is crazy.” Friendly banter about TV series was accompanied by clicking of your flip-flops as you made your way towards your apartment complex just a couple blocks away from the laundromat. Adrian had insisted that he walks you home this time, apparently he was afraid you might “fall asleep on your way home” since you two spent almost the whole night in the laundromat.

Not just doing laundry, you also brought your book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and read out loud for him to hear the difference between book and movie. While you waited for your clothes to dry you two sat on uncomfortable chairs, you with book wide open, pages visible for Adrian to peek from behind your shoulder whenever he wanted. Though most of the time he spent with his eyes closed, face leaning on a stock of washing machines next to him, listening to your reading like a bedtime story. Even after your laundry was done you decided to stick around, competing who flicks quarters farthest, catching peanuts in your mouth and testing echo in every washing machine. Until you finally decided to head home and get at least few hours of sleep, by that time it was past 5 a.m.

Sun was lazily rising, yellow painted the sky but few dark clouds were spoiling the otherwise beautiful picture. The smell of rain was in the air, you both knew there was a storm coming on a calm Sunday morning. Few joggers passed you in a hurry. Early birds. Psychopaths. Not like Adrian wasn’t psychotic at least a bit, but he wasn’t that mad to get up so early to run in still-cold weather.

,,What do you think is the best show then?” he calmly asked and nudged your shoulder with his own, encouraging you to answer.

,,Well… I think the best show is The Kids in the Hall, undying classic.” You knew your walk slowly but surely reached its end. You could see your main entrance, the fact you were reaching your home was setting you aflame in the worst way possible. Nonetheless, your eyelids grew heavy and you could not stop yourself from yawning every few seconds, an unavoidable need to fall into your bed and surrender to sweet slumber.

,,That show is like 100 years old! Dinosaurs watched it!” Adrian shook his head with laughter. You didn’t find his jokes funny but you loved this out of all the shows. Unbelievable.

,,Hey! If you call that show old, it is like you’re calling yourself old! Should I call nursing to pick you up?” You stopped in front of your apartment complex, not entirely sure Adrian realizes this is where your hangout ends. You spin around to face him and quickly jab him in the chest with your finger.

,,Ha ha, very funny. But really? So many good shows and you pick this one? And call me out for liking Fargo? You have horrible taste.” He couldn’t let this go now he saw how adorable you looked when you were angry. What is the worst that can happen if he teases you more, right?

,,Shut it, Adrian. I’m serious.” You said that so calmly it almost took him aback, however he could see the fire burning behind your eyes. It only riled him up more.

,,You can’t make me-“ You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down swiftly. The best solution to shut him up was to press your lips against his. A firm, simple kiss that sent electricity through your body. You felt a muffled yelp that escaped Adrian’s mouth when you surprised him in such an affectionate manner. And at that moment, when your lips touched his, for the first time in a while his mind was quiet, yet his soul was singing. Time stopped, eyes were tightly shut, heart hammering inside, begging to jump out of his chest, one of his hands found its place on your forearm in uncertainty and took a step closer to get his body closer to you.

You, on the other hand, were fully aware of what was happening. The feeling of gratification that you “won” an argument was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you could think of was acting up on your secret wishes that swam through your head every time you went to the laundromat to see him.  Suddenly aware of everything, you felt the heat that radiated from Adrian’s body, warming you up in cold air, a few raindrops making you shiver as they fell on your skin. Or were you shivering from the closeness of this intimate act? If anyone asked you would not be able to answer. It did not matter anyway, the only thing that mattered was you kissing him.

The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, but you would both swear it was an eternity. When you pulled away, slowly and delicately, Adrian still had eyes closed, hand hanging in the air where your arm used to be. You realized his mind was completely shut off. A smile formed on your lips at the thought of shutting Adrian up this way every time he brings up some stupid nonsensical squabble. You left him standing there as rain started to fall on his hair, diamonds in those dark brown curls. And when he finally came to his senses and decided to open his eyes… You were gone. Coldness on his body where you were pressed together, sparks lingering on lips, sweet perfume filling his nose, those should be indicators that it was very much real, but his mind was not certain. How could it be, when the stupid brain ceased the second his dreams came true.

You quickly ran upstairs to your apartment, running up to the window in your kitchen and from behind a curtain you watched confused Adrian, who was walking in the opposite direction. What other choice did you leave him than to head home and wonder. Wonder about what you were doing when raindrops splattered on the sidewalk, sounding like your flip-flops. Wonder if you’re already sleeping safe and sound in your bedroom like he will when he reaches his home. Wonder if you kiss him again once you see each other next week in the laundromat. Wonder if the laundry girl was real or just a dream.

[russellsppttemplates]

Omg the dad Oscar blurb was sooo cute can we have one of him being in the house with the kids on his own like his first full day of being in charge and the kids are like maybe we should ask mum when something doesn’t work out

Note: thank you for taking the time to leave a tiny message 🫶

"Can we play outside, daddy?", Lucas asked as he stepped into the living room with a football on his hand. It was the first full day that you had gone back to work after having baby Jack, and because Oscar was home still, he said he wouldn't mind being on his own with the boys.

Currently, he was lulling Jack to sleep, the little boy snuggled on his chest with the help of the sling carefully strapped around their bodies, "I'm putting the baby to sleep, buddy, how about I watch you score some goals on the net from here?", he suggested, knowing that moving around before he fell into deep sleep wasn't ideal and ensuring that he wouldn't wake up.

Lucas nodded as he went to the garden, putting on some shoes and kicking the ball on the grass.

"You could fall asleep too, you know?", Oscar touched his youngest son's cheek softly as big, wide open hazel eyes looked at him, "How is it that you keep me and mummy up all night and then don't sleep during the day either? It's time to sleep, little fella, yes it is", he cooed, tapping his back gently and walking around the decking, nodding and flashing a thumbs up at Lucas whenever he scored a goal.

By lunchtime, Oscar had managed to put Jack down for a nap, and considering the baby had been sleeping for just Iver twenty minutes, he had plenty of time to have some alone time with Lucas, keeping an eye on the baby through the monitor.

"Does pasta sound good?", Oscar asked the young boy, "yes, please!", he smiled, "with tomato sauce and cheese!".

Oscar giggled and got started on cooking, letting the pasta boil and grabbing one of the frozen jars of sauce you had batch cooked a few weeks ago for moments like these. Once it was all underway, he got back to the living room and helped Lucas with his Lego blocks, "I want to make a garage like yours", he smiled as he gathered the orange, black and grey block, starting to build it as they watched Bluey on TV.

"Time's up for the pasta", Oscar said as he got up, "can we eat here, daddy, please?", Lucas pouted as best as he could to convince his to have lunch on the living room coffee table.

"Mummy doesn't like it when we eat here, and we're eating tomato sauce, if it falls on the carpet, it won't be good, Lucas", Oscar reasoned, "but I'll be extra careful, I promise!", he nodded as Oscar finally said yes.

When Oscar brought the plates to the table, the monitor showed a fussing Jack in his cot, "I'm going to get him, be careful with the food, okay?", Oscar warned as Jack sat as close to the table as he could to make sure he didn't let anything fall or drip where it wasn't supposed to.

"You're really going through some sleep regression, aren't you, cheeky boy?", Oscar said as Jack as wide awake when he got to the bedroom. Changing his diaper and stopping by the kitchen to get a bottle for your son, Oscar got back to the living room.

"I didn't spill anything, daddy, see?", Lucas showed him, the carpet white and the table clean as he had eaten half of his plate already, "Good job, buddy!".

He should've seen it coming, but he still trusted his reflexes. Turns out a couple of nights without sleeping properly really puts a dent on your skills as he watched Jack grab the fork on his plate only to let it fall on the cream pillow he had to support his legs, "uh-oh, mummy is not going to like that", Lucas whispered.

"This needs to go on the washing machine, now!", Oscar gasped, laying Jack on carpeted floor surrounded by some blankets and pillows just in case he decided he wanted to learn how to roll over and cause even more trouble than his father was already in.

"Stain remover, then wash liquid", Oscar mumbled as he read an online forum about tomato stain removal, dumping all the products on the washing machine before closing it and starting the cycle, "do you think it will work?", Oscar asked Lucas, "daddy really hopes it will work".

"Shouldn't we call mummy? Maybe she knows what to do", your son suggested, "if we remove the stain on our own, it will be fine. Mummy won't even need to know this happened".

A washing cycle later and another futile attempt at getting Jack to sleep on Oscar's chest, your three boys stood in front of the washing machine, the originally cream pillow now various shades of pink and red depending how far the spot you looked at was from the stain.

"Don't worry, daddy, mummy won't be mad at you", Lucas somewhat tried to comfort his father, rubbing his hand on his back.

The minute you set foot in the house, you called for your boys, "mummy!", Lucas ran to hug you, "how was your day, my love?", you asked, "did you get up to anything nice?", you asked as you made your way to the kitchen, stopping by the laundry room when you saw the light was on.

"Let me just - oh", you said as you looked at the pillow inside the dryer, "it's was not my fault, it was daddy who let it slip!", Lucas raised his arms, taking on the fully innocent role.

"It was Jack believe or not, sweetheart!", you heard your husband say as he approached, your baby boy on his hip.

Making grabby hands at him, you rested him on your hip and kissed his cheeks, "what did you do, little monkey?", you giggled.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[serejae]

WE CANT BE FRIENDS | 23. BUT I FEEL SO SEEN IN THE NIGHT

(written)

prev | next

pairing : myungjae x fem!reader | fluff, angst | w.c : 838

mstl

taglist @lilriswife4life @cherrytaesan @tubatu-lovie @woonsbot @guiltysungho @taylorluvation @kage-yaa @lionhanie @dearly-somber @nicholasluvbot @nujeskz @unhakki @lblossom21 @kirbyyluvs @seunghancore @nctrawberries @i03jae @icewons @miidorei @hanbinniesmango @dongminz @helpsplease @sol3chu @letwiiparkjay @woorcve @brachioswrld

-

"so are you guys like friends now?" woonhak asked as he recorded the 3 of you guys walking to the park together for a shoot.

"yep, we're best friends!" jaehyun said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "don't push it myung" you glared at jaehyun making him turn to you and sulk, "you said we were friends though" he mumbled.

when you guys finally got to the park woonhak ran away hiding somewhere trying to find a good place to record you both without being caught. as he found a space, he zoomed into you and jaehyun walking. it was quiet for a bit before jaehyun spoke up "I'm sorry...i don't know why I'm so awkward alone with you..." he laughed slightly. you turned over to him and grinned at his loserness, "you're fine, we just worked things out like...yesterday. i wouldn't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with me you know?" he nodded and it went back to silence.

...

"how was your date with jaehyun?"

"i didnt go on a date with you...do you mean the fish one?"

"nono, JEONG jaehyun"

making an 'o' shape with your mouth you nodding understanding him now

"it was okay...i mean you should know, you were there." you smiled "i mean, it seemed like he was more on a date with me than you, he just ignored you and talked to me the whole time." "wow, way to rub it in myung..."

"no! i didn't mean it like that, i just wanted to know if you liked him or anything...just curious..." he peeked at you to see your head turned to him as you guys kept walking "well i didn't get to know him that much to like him you know? maybe if me and him actually TALKED, i could've but he wanted to go to a shooting range..."

jaehyun busted out laughing to which you playfully hit his arm "i took you on a better first date right?" he turned to look at you. and maybe it was the first time he fully looked at you since you two had met again but it seemed to him that you had gotten more beautiful than before, which he didn't even know was possible but it felt like he fell in love again for the first time. "you took me to a trampoline park on our first date..." "which was fun right?" "yeah, it was fun...really fun actually, then you took me to the laundromat because i told you my washing machine broke and you needed to do laundry" "hey we had hours to talk, a vending machine to which i paid for anything you wanted, as well as fresh laundry to come home to" "i never told you how much i enjoyed that, or when we went to the lame comedy club and wrote down our rankings on a piece of paper" you both stared laughing as you remembered the moment "i remember silly soosan, all we could write on her ranking was 'boo tomato tomato'" laughing you slightly lean towards him. "remembering these moments reminds me that our relationship wasn't so bad" you said looking at your feet, jaehyun nudged you a bit "ouch, but fair enough...

do you ever wonder how our relationship could've been if i didn't mess it up? like what would we be doing right now?"

"probably at another laundromat, ive been too lazy to do laundry."

"oh i get it, you would want me to do your laundry for you"

"and you would do it"

"i would..." he said under his breath

"what'd you say?"

"nothing."

"you would do my laundry?" you repeated

"oh i hate people like you, you guys pretend not to hear something then say exactly what i just said

but im serious." he stopped walking and held your hand making you stop to look at him

"what would we be doing if we stayed together"

"do we fix our issues?" you asked

"i mean we would have to sooner or later" jaehyun tilted his head slightly grinning

"do you choose music over me?"

"well, since we fixed our issue, no. no i wouldn't choose music over you"

"then we'd be-" you were cut off by your name being called.

"YN! YN!"

turning your head you see jeong jaehyun running towards you. when he caught up to you and jaehyun, jeong jaehyun caught his breath "hey..." he looked at you before turning to myung jaehyun. "whats uo Brodie" jeong said as he dabbed up myung.

"yn..." jeong jaehyun started "i wanna make it up to you and take you on a date to fix the first one"

jaehyun 1 felt like jaehyun 2 shouldve just slapped him at that point.

suddenly woonhak and leehan jumped ontop of jeong jaehyun

"WHAT THE FUCK- YN ILL PICK YOU UP AT 7 TOMORROW"

"KEEP WALKING

KEEP WALKING"

"NO-"

"JUST KEEP TALKING ILL TAKE CARE OF THIS"

"YN-"

the mix of leehan and woonhak fighting jeong jaehyun made you and the original jaehyun run.

[zxombii]

💉🫀🦴 ︵ " Ticcin' Time Bomb! "

( ♡,, › ｏ‹ ,, ) — ❝ was inspired to make this eheheh (mix of headcanons and just yapping) ❞ mimi says.

︶︶ . ˚ ticci toby headcanons ⑅

— gender non-specified, reader not really mentioned. warning for an animal death, wounds, and unhealthy obsessions.

— contains ticci toby, mentions of others.

to silly for his own good and gets into mischief occasionally, but if he is having extra aggressive tics or just them happening more then usual, bpd acting out, etc.: he usually opts out and becomes that midwest emo (whos kinda mean) we all love and adore once more.

gay in denial. “i wish u were a female..” type thing. wompwomp for him👎

^^ as he has gotten older, i think he has hesitantly come to the fact that he is bisexual. possibly pansexual. he doesnt know how to feel about all this lgbtqia+ stuff.

he stole a golden retriever from someone and had it as a pet but was like, really bad at taking care of it. the dog died in under a month and the stench of dead dog stayed in his room for a good while (gross..)

when he loves someone, he Loves someone. like, his love gets to the point of an unhealthy obsession😕 he never felt love truly when a kid so he seeks it out from those around him (usually from older ppl aswell).

only numb to pain, not numb to both pain and weather. he overheats easily as he dislikes taking off his face wear cause of his scars,,, although since he is numb to pain—as long as he doesnt look in a mirror—he kinda forgets its even there, including the other gashes he has contained that covered his skin. face color drains immediately when he remembers the scars he has obtained. poor little guy☹️

goes from listening to washing machine heart to listening to the most country music ever. lowkey weird music taste. up for anything anyways. (<- self indulgent)

kinda dumb lowkey👎 dont ask toby for help on anything school related that needs genuine brain power. he can do addition, subtraction, times, dividing (barely).. and thats all he really remembers (BOOO SLENDERMAN TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO /j). will send the person to someone else if he doesnt know tbh😭

kinda brain rot talk. BEN somehow roped him into speaking like that and does say alpha sometimes as a joke to the others. EX: “oh a-alpha,” he would say in a dreamy voice with a sigh, stifling back a laugh as he continued his jittery speech, “thank u ss-sso much for healing—stupid!—my wuh-wounds.”

really bad sleep schedule. with his tics and major ptsd, he struggles at night to sleep– like, fully struggles. twisting and turning in hopes that he would just go slumpt in just the right position, but ofc it was a no. stares up at the roof, rethinking his entire life.. and before he knows it, it had already became morning!! time really passes when u r just trauma dumping to urself.

remember when i said he was kinda dumb? yeah, uh, he is Not with mythology. bro is a total nerd on it cause one day he delved to deep into the internet, leaving the laptop happier then the average person would after going deep into the web of safari or google. warning for all: dont ask him anything mythology related, dont speak about anything mythology related.. yeah. yk. if u do, u have just set off a yapping man who wont stop for a good while. leaves when he gets hungry (which isnt often), so i advise u to sit tight and try not to fall asleep cause he will shake u awake with a side eye afterwards before continuing his rambling.

bro is mean if he doesnt get his way and will throw a tantrum. not a pretty tantrum will be thrown!!!

actually likes the tea parties sally does. usually only the girls like it, but he genuinely enjoys dressing up and all the socialization he can get into (certified yapperton citizen). like yeah, its childish, but he loves sally, so it flies right past his head as smth weird.

absolute loser☠️ little crybaby most likely over the dumbest stuff. definitely cried over his ice cream dropping to the floor (as if he was a little kid). grown man or not, he has the mindset of a angsty teen. atleast the mental age of a 16-17 year old who is kinda immature😭🙏

— i do not allow my work to be translated, stolen, or anything similar. everything i write is made by me and only me unless i say differently on that post. credits to zxombii on tumblr. i have no side blogs.

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[bakersimmer]

Soft murmurs and distant whispers floated through the air, mingling with the gentle buzz of the vending machine. In the background, intermittent phone rings echoed. As Martin sat there, waves of nostalgia washed over him, carrying him back in time.

The faded green walls, worn linoleum floors, dim lamps, and uncomfortable plastic chairs - gone like they had never existed. The only thing that had permanently permeated these walls was the smell of disinfectants, an integral part of any hospital.

In his youth, the emergency room was almost like a second home to Martin. Cuts, concussions, and fractures were familiar companions, each injury a testament to his restless spirit and insatiable thirst for adventure. Perhaps he had been a touch more reckless than his peers in his eagerness to embrace life. Or maybe Martin was just blessed with two left feet.

Martin's eyes wandered and eventually settled on the wall-mounted TV. A cooking show was airing, demonstrating the art of preparing the perfect bouillabaisse. With the TV muted and no subtitles, Martin had to rely on his imagination. Luckily, telling the difference between a tomato and an onion didn't require much guesswork.

The waiting room's sleepiness was disrupted by a new sound—squeaky rubber soles. With each step, the noise drew closer until a woman clad in a doctor's attire emerged from behind the automated doors.

previous / beginning / next

[letosmauddib]

TRYING < :) / :0 >

Carmy Berzatto x Original Character (Grace) Just want a sappy/smutty/cute moment for Carmy :)

Carmy and his wife are trying for a baby :) 1.4 K-ish words, edited somewhat? (be nice to me )

SMUT 18+ this is your warning :p

Warnings: sex lol, sexy talk, mentions of pregnancy, etc.

‘I’d say, for the next delivery less tomatoes and more heads of lettuce? A crate less and three heads more ?” Carmy sighed as he searched his pocket for a pen. 

“I’d agree, I'll write that in my notes. Hey it’s 6pm didn’t you need to return some books or something?” Syd commented as she jotted down inventory notes. “Hm? Books?” Carmy replied distracted by thoughts of produce. “You told Richie something about needing to leave early to return Grace’s library books?” Carmy got pulled from his daze, “Fuck me, I gotta head out.” He pulled his scrap notes into his notebook and tossed them onto his desk. He tossed his jacket on haphazardly: “Syd, I’ll have some more notes before the delivery call needs to be made. I’ll make sure they get done.” Syd grabbed a dish towel and closed her notebook: “Two days Chef, Tuesday so we get it on time.” “Noted, have a good rest of your Sunday. I’ll see you soon.” Carmy bid a quick farewell to the staff before heading out to his car. 

As Syd grabbed her notebook to place in the office, Richie came in to drop off a few dirty dish trays. “Where’s Carm?” “Headed out early to make it to the library..” Richie nodded and let out a chuckle: “He’s so slick, it's fucking Sunday. Libraries aren’t fucking open.” 

Carmy felt like his lungs were gonna collapse as he made his way up the stairs to the apartment loft. The sun was starting to set, casting that orange glint into the apartment building. His watch alarm screamed 6:45 as he grabbed his keys from his pocket. He shut the door behind him, kicking off his shoes; “Baby?” He called out, hearing the soft footsteps against the hardwood floors. Sunshine stepped into the room, at least that’s how it felt. Grace happily made her way over to him, soft short pink nightdress on. “So happy you’re home.” She exclaimed sweetly with a kiss on his cheek. Carmy’s hands slipped around her waist, holding her close. Soft fabric, soft skin under his rough grip. “Am I late baby, are we still okay on time?” “I need to take another test but we’re okay. Happy you’re home early on a Sunday with me.” She beamed. Her fingers lingered on his cheek. 

Carmy and Grace agreed he would hop in the shower while she took another ovulation test. He was happy for the chance to wipe away work, as much as Grace insisted he smelled fine. Carmy followed a specific routine post-work, showering for an hour, putting work clothes in the correct hamper, or throwing them in the washing machine. Grace made sure to help him incorporate a skincare routine and actually eat a meal. But at the moment, he was rushing through trying to be as thorough and as quickly as possible. “Baby?” She called out to him as he wiped the droplets. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back into their bedroom. She had settled on their bed, cheek pressed on the soft ivory sheets they’d spent a week deciding on. “What’d the test say, still good?” He asked as he dried his hair. “Still good, still ovulating.” Grace flipped onto her back, the sheerness of the nightgown much more apparent. Carmy felt like a teenager, the blush on his face apparent as he glanced over her supple breasts. 

His daze interrupted; “I feel like we’re orchestrating this and it's making me feel a bit weird” She stated softly twisting a strand of hair in her perfectly manicured finger, fixed on their ceiling. He crawled over her, letting the towel slip away. Grace’s hands settled on his broad shoulders, immediately feeling her nerves a bit relieved. “I know..” He sighed, “I thought that having a baby was going to be really easy. Thought we were really good at  the making babies part too.” He chuckled. Grace’s fingers crept up his neck, feeling his curls at her fingertips. She giggled as his nose pressed against her cheek lips against her neck. “I feel like I’m ruining it bear I’m sorry..” He pulled away to glance over her soft features, lips a bit pouty. “You’re okay baby promise.” Carmy knew she was feeling a bit desperate, a bit disappointed and the doubt was creeping in on her. He was feeling the same way. People fuck and have kids every day, they’d even had pregnancy scares before, but it seemed like the second they were being more purposeful it was taking much longer than expected. She had gone off birth control almost six months ago and they had gotten to the point of timing her ovulation periods. They were hoping this would help them. “D’you still want to?” He asked softly fingers resting on her chin. 

She nodded in response, her hands slipping down to graze his shoulder blades. His thumb pressed against her lip: “Good, now use your words…” He pressed a kiss to her nose, She was feeling her cheeks go warm. “Want you Carm…” She muttered softly, feeling a bit shy. He took his time, pressing kisses against her jaw.  She was feeling dizzy; “Want you to fuck me please bear?” She panted, Carmy bit down on his bottom lip, and his hand cupped her breast as he pressed his lips against her neck. Her nipples pebbled against the soft fabric of her nightgown, his callous hands against her breasts. He pulled the straps down of the soft nightgown, lips pressing against her nipples.  

 She squirmed parting her knees gently for him, she glanced down as his cock pressed against her thigh. Soft thighs spread and wrapped around his waist, feeling his hard erection against her.  Her nightgown rode up exposing her bare cunt, his hands slipped down and around her waist feeling her plump bum. “No panties…all for me hmm?” He chuckled pressing a kiss to her sternum. Grace was flustered, feeling warm all over her body.  She glanced over his features, flushed and aroused for her. 

Grace pressed a kiss to his nose and a few pecks against his cheeks. As she nibbled against his jaw, his hands shifted her onto his lap. She tugged on the hastily wrapped nightgown around her waist, wanting to be free from the silky fabric. Carm’s hands slipped around her back pulling the night gown off and tossed it hastily away. He lifted her up to adjust himself, her hands slipped around his neck, cheek pressed against his curls. Carmy reached down between them, their bodies pressed flushed together. His hand lingered between her thighs, feeling how she was dripping for him. He gripped his aching member, guiding it towards her. She moaned, squirming in his hands. He chuckled. “You’re so squirmy today baby.” He teased as he guided himself, teasing her slick mound with the length of his cock. She groaned, biting down on her bottom lip. “Bear, please?? Want you in me..” She whimpered. He felt like he could cum right there, just from hearing the desperation in her voice. “S’okay pretty baby..” He sighed. She gasped as she sunk down onto his length, his hands held her upper thighs as he found his pace. Grace moaned as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. “Feels good baby?” He breathed out. “So good bear, so so good.” She whimpered, much to his delight. 

Carmy slowed his pace, hands slipping up to her waist and guiding her to lay down. He towered over her, hands slipping down to her waist as he picked up his pace once again. Grace gripped the sheets, as she felt like she was gasping for air.  Carmy’s hand slipped between their flustered bodies fondling at her most sensitive area. Her back arched feeling overly-stimulated by his touch. Carmy’s hips stuttered against hers, her lips parted as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. 

“Taking me so good baby.” He uttered softly. Grace groaned softly,  as he leaned over her pressing his lips to her collarbone. Carmy’s hips stuttered as he kissed her neck. “Not gonna last much longer baby.”. She moaned softly: “I’m so close Carmy.” “Come for me baby.” He moaned against her cheek. Her fingers slipped into his curls, tugging gently. “Oh Fuck.” She whimpered, as she arched her back knees squeezing his sides. “Oh god..” He groaned as he rutted slowly into her, pressing his hips against hers. Filling her up with his load, she squirmed in his arms; feeling overstimulated. “Stay still for me sweet girl.” He said with a peck on her cheek. She looked disheveled and sleepy, but satisfied. His lips pressed against her neck trying to bring her back down to him. Her hands slipped up to caress his neck, “I love you so so much Carmy.” She muttered sleepily. Carmy’s arms slipped around her waist, holding her close. “I love you too sweet baby.” 

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Due to a series of unfortunate events (a cancellation of all direct flights for 2 days), im going to be spending between 90 minutes and three hours in IRELAND of all places. The REPUBLIC of Ireland. I was not expecting this on my american adventure.

I wont get to do any irish things but im flying both flights with Aer Lingus instead of British Airways.

Here is my review of Aer Lingus which is by extension my review of Ireland:

- Holy SHIT this airbus is half the size of the boeing i was going to take. I expected it to have insane turbulence like the KLM washing machines but honestly it's no different to the boeing

- it is nice to hear announcements made in a celtic language first again, even if it's Gaelic and not Cymraeg. I look forward to seeing the "Casnewydd/Newport" sign when i finally take the train home, it's the first symbol of being in Wales.

- We left early. EARLY. On one hand this is leagues above all my BA flights that have never left on time. On the other hand if it left just 60 seconds late, id have recieved a free change of transfer plane. Now i gotta hope we get there "early" enough for me to get through customs and find my next flight. Better prepare to run but theres not much i can do about this. I just hope British Airways dont force me to pay for a rebooked flight because they decided 60 minutes international transfer time was enough (hah!) and i dont have superhuman speed.

- Im sat by an emergency exit. This has funny side effects. I get sliiiightly more leg room, but also im sat by the exit and the door is way, way colder than any other wall in the plane. It's not bothersome but it's funny how i have a free Cooling Wall.

- Internet is about same price as BA and i can use discord (good) but i cant use youtube (very bad, you should probably only go for for the im service)

- The dinner was about the same quality as the British airways food, but they had TWO meat options instead of one. I took the Beef Stew. Very yummy. They had cheese and tomato on the side instead of the cursed tomato couscous yoghurt that looks like strawberry muesli which british airways keep serving (prison food). I also really liked the chocolate mousse, slightly easier to eat than the chocolate brownie i get with BA, but i find it weird aer lingus serve most of their drinks in tiny cartons. Why??? At least i get a tiny water bottle with BA, like a souvenir. Also theres a tinier bread roll and no cheese with it, but the cheese felt out of place anyway. Not as out of place as the tiny creamer pot i get on both airlines, with no coffee in sight. It's like a shot.

- you dont get any free alcohol on this flight, you have to pay for your 1 can can of lager. With a credit card. Mine was in the overhead locker. Thankfully a guy on my aisle was feeling generous and bought my can. Downgrade from BA including 2 alcoholic drinks in the flights

- instead of a nice pasty or bacon egg roll for breakfast they gave me a tiny carton of orange juice and a Nature Valley granola bar. Horrible

- the in flight entertainment is on a screen from 2009 instead of 1999. There is no funny controller that stops working randomly. It is a normal ass touch screen. Unfortunately i lost my provided earbuds at the start of the flight so i havent done anything with it

- no reclining chair on this airbus :( it's an overnight flight. My chair is missing an arm but i assume thats because it is by the emergency exit

- BA do this thing where they dim the lights and turn them back on an hour before arrival. Aer Lingus have decided to "dim" the lights by having these purple lights on, instead of turning them off.

More to come when i arrive at the airport