#my wife tells me i smell like beef
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My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost
As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.
Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.
Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."
CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."
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Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.
Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.
So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate.
So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.
Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?
Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke.
OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.
Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other.
This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?
Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.
(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)
Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.
Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.
Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome.
Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad.
(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)
Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right.
“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.
Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.
Oh shit, avalanche!
Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.
Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.
Wait. What.
WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE.
I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK.
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!
Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.
Guess that'll be next episode?"
....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.
#tbb#cloneforce99#the bad batch#tcw#crosshair tbb#the bad batch crosshair#crosshair#crosshair and mayday#mayday clone trooper#tbb mayday#commander mayday#doug talks star wars#doug the neighbor#redneck doug#fuck the empire#fuck lt nolan
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Chocolate Chip Pancakes
Summary: Richie goes to jail and leaves Carm to watch Eva.
Author's Note: My first fic for The Bear so please be kind!
Warnings: language, mention of jail
“Cousin, you gotta get Eva for me. Just for tonight,” Richie begged as his hands were being restrained, a sudden clarity coming over him as he remembered his little girl was waiting across town.
“Yeah and what about you, dickhead?” Carmy asked. “Who else do you think is gonna bail you out?” he asked, looking at Fak doubtfully. Fak hung his head and retreated to the kitchen as the officers hauled Richie to his feet, shuffling him to the door.
“He’s not going anywhere until we get word from the hospital,” one of the cops barked, giving Richie’s elbow a shove.
“Please….and don’t tell Tiff,” Richie pleaded. Carm nodded in agreement. The last thing he needed on top of the property damage and assault charges was a visit from Richie’s ex-wife, screeching at him and tearing his stomach to shreds.
Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he watched his cousin get shoved into the back of the police cruiser and whisked away. Looking at his watch he realized he only had thirty minutes to get to Eva’s babysitter.
—————————————
“Where’s Richie?” Izzy asked.
“He had some stuff to finish up at the restaurant. I’m supposed to pick her up,” Carm said, trying to sound vague, yet convincing.
Izzy furrowed her brow, scanning him up and down. He looked exhausted and had clearly come from a long shift himself. He smelled like grease and smoke, a hint of garlic. She knew Carm from school, but it had been a long time.
“Thought you went to New York or some shit. Are you really working at the Beef now?” she asked.
“Look, it’s late. Can you pack Eva’s bag, please?” he asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He didn’t like discussing his homecoming with people as it inevitably led to unwanted questions about his brother, Mikey.
“Yeah, I’ll get her,” she said, leaving the door open for him to come inside.
—————————————
As they walked inside his tiny apartment, Eva asked, “Is Daddy coming?”
“No, um…he’s busy tonight,” Carm lied.
Eva looked around cautiously, taking in the stacks of cookbooks and haphazard piles of laundry and pots, strewn everywhere. “Don't you have a bed?” she asked, eyeing the couch made up with a pillow and blankets.
“Yeah, yeah…I got a bed,” Carm assured her. “Lemme show ya,” he said, ushering her down the hall to his room, unused even after months of occupancy. He opened the door to the sparse room, a mattress with a single sheet, nothing more.
Eva craned her neck as she took in the bare walls. “This is your room?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Carm replied.
“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, why?” he replied too defensively for her liking.
“You don’t have any posters or stuff in here. Where are your clothes?” she said, nose scrunched in disapproval.
Placing her bag on the floor, Carm scratched the back of his neck before indicating down the hall. “I…uh….I keep everything in the living room."
“Why?” Eva asked, thinking it was really weird this man had his own room, but never put anything in it. She had two rooms she'd decorated with all her important possessions. She thought about the stars on her ceiling at her dad's apartment and the rows of stuffed animals lining the bed at her mom's house.
“I dunno, the living room has a tv,” Carm mumbled as though that might serve as an answer. However, Eva continued to bore a hole into him and it unnerved him how many questions she asked. He thought she would be easier to look after.
“Look, your dad said you gotta go to bed. So, here’s your bed,” he said, pointing at the mattress.
“Ok,” she nodded and Carm breathed a sigh of relief. “But I need a bedtime story,” she stated, eyes wide and hopeful.
“A story?” Carm said with a gulp.
Eva nodded vigorously as she plopped down on the mattress and patted the space beside her.
Carm ran a hand through his disheveled hair, feeling the ache in his gut and nodded. “Ok, yeah. A story….lemme think a minute,” he said, trying to remember something suitable for a child. What the fuck would Richie say, he thought? Probably something about the epic bar fight he'd gotten into alongside Mikey on St. Paddy's Day back in '02. Fuck, he couldn’t tell her that. Think, Carm! Tell the kid something wholesome, something fucking normal!
“Ah…once upon a time...” Yeah stories started like this, he knew they did. Keep going asshole, she’ll be asleep any minute now, he thought. “There were three bears...” Bears, yes! Bears were good. “They lived in a house and there was a little girl who broke in because she was like super rude or somethin’ and she couldn’t wait to go to sleep.” Wait…fuck, he was tired. How did the story go?
Eva giggled. “Do you mean Goldilocks and The Three Bears?” she asked in a pitying tone.
“That’s the one!” Carm nodded.
“You’re not telling it right!” she scolded him.
“I’m not?” he asked with a chuckle.
“No!” she squealed. “The bears leave their porridge to cool and then Goldilocks comes to their house. She tries their porridge, then their chairs, then their beds!” she giggled.
“You should tell the story, then!” Carm said with a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
Eva yawned, “I should!”
“You’re tired,” Carm pointed out.
“I’m not!” Eva objected, bouncing on the bed.
“Ok, you’re not. But if you go to sleep now, I promise I’ll make you whatever you want to eat in the morning. What do you like?” Carm asked, voice dripping with desperation.
Eva thought for a moment and eyes glistening with mischief asked, “Anything?”
“Anything!" Carm promised, hoping for sleep in the near future.
“Alright, I want chocolate chip pancakes then. As many as I want!” she screamed.
Carm held his ears and nodded. “Ok, ok. Chocolate chip pancakes. As many as you want. Just go to sleep, ok?”
Eva nodded in agreement and Carm shut out the light before tip toeing out of the room.
——————————
The next morning Carm woke to Eva pouncing on him, shaking his whole body with the force of a child giddy with excitement.
“Carmy, Carmy, wake up! You promised me pancakes!” she cried eagerly.
Sunlight had barely begun to stream thru the kitchen window, orange rays bathing the tiles in pale light as Carm sat up on the sofa dazed and confused.
“What time is it?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Time to get up and make me breakfast!” the five year old announced.
“Right,” Carm announced with a cough, before rolling off the sofa toward the kitchen. He wanted a cigarette and a cup of coffee first, but gave up on the idea before his feet hit the floor.
Eva clapped her hands, blonde hair dancing in the early morning light as she watched Carm drag a skillet from the bottom cabinet.
She opened the refrigerator to find eggs and hauled the carton to the counter with a slight grunt. “Here ya go,” she proclaimed proudly.
“Thank you,” Carm replied, surprised she knew what ingredients to bring.
“I help Daddy sometimes,” she responded with a shrug.
“That’s good,” he said.
“You know what else we need?” he asked.
She shook her head and he hoisted her onto the counter to show her what other ingredients were required for their breakfast. As they continued their work, Carm found himself smiling. Eva was a smart girl and he enjoyed her company.
“Time to flip the first one,” he told her and she edged the spatula under the pancake as he’d shown her. However, she flicked her wrist too harshly, sending the pancake flying through the air. It would have landed on the floor if not for Carm’s quick reflexes, catching it midair and redirecting it back to the skillet.
"Shit! shit! shit!" he exclaimed as the hot pancake made contact with his palm.
"You shouldn't say that," Eva scolded, holding her finger up to his face.
Carm inhaled deeply before agreeing, "You're right. Wanna try that again, chef?”
“Yes, chef!” she said with an eager grin.
“Alright, go again, hot shot!” he encouraged and she tried once more, landing in the pan this time.
“I did it, Carmy!” she yelled.
“Yeah, you did, kiddo! Good job!” he praised as the phone began to ring.
“One minute, ok?” he told her. “You got this?” he asked.
“Yup,” she replied, confidently.
Carm crossed to the other side of the kitchen to grab his cell, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on Eva. When he picked up, Richie was on the line, “Cousin, I got bad news…”
#the bear fanfic#the bear imagine#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto x fanfic#carmen berzatto x imagine#the bear#richie jerimovich#the bear spoilers#carmy berzatto
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so. can I request dazai having beef with your puppy? same as chuuya having beef with your cat? and it's not like the animals are mean, it's a totally one sided beef.
have a good day!!
CAT & DOG - dazai osamu and nakahara chuuya
✁your very mature boyfriend decides to create a lifelong rivalry with your fur friend. notes : this is SOOOO funny i got out of bed to do it so have fun! thanks for requesting <3
┊❛ dazai osamu ❜┊
he really hates dogs. if you read the stuff irl dazai's wife wrote about him hating dogs, you would know that he would literally run to the opposite direction, climbing up a chair or a table because he had a gut feeling that a dog fight would start at the next block.
has the agency make a "no dog" policy for the dorms because he shudders at every bark and growl even if the dog is miles away. literally, any pet would be fine with him except for a dog.
why does he hate dogs so much? no one really knows, he just utterly despises them.
he loves you, and i swear by that with all my life, but it does not include and might never include your beloved dog.
the moment he realizes you have a dog at home (telling by the hairs on your cotton shirt and the light bite marks on your shoes), he drops to his knees and quite literally whines.
begs you on his knees to get rid of it, not wanting to see it when he comes over, but of course you don't, because what harm could a cute beagle dog do?
whenever you suggest he come over he screeches at the thought, urging you to just stay at his place instead of staying with that nasty dirty thing! (his words, not mine)
he does, eventually, meet his worst enemy and forever opponent for your love, and it doesn't go well.
"i told you, he won't bite. he's a bit cuddly and hyper, but that's it! you just have to let him get used to you," you say, sticking your keys into the door of your apartment. dazai lets out a fake barfing sound, wincing painfully as he starts to hear the excited barks of your dog.
"no, i wanna go home. let's head to my place, yeah? it's much better there, belladonna, i promise-"
your whining boyfriend was interrupted by small paws scratching from behind the door, you could practically hear his tail wagging from how excited he was.
you giggle, "he's already happy to meet you, osamu."
his face drops into a look of terror, opting to hide behind your body as you finally swing the door open, revealing a tiny beagle, spinning around in circles and letting out joyous yelps that you can't help but kneel down and cradle the puppy in your arms.
"beanie! it's so good to see you," the overhyped dog licks all over your face, making you laugh and carry him with you as you stand up and face your shitfaced boyfriend.
you extend your arms, revealing your dog in all his glory to dazai, "beanie, this is my boyfriend, dazai osamu. boyfriend, this is beanie."
"GET HIM AWAY FROM ME HE SMELLS BAD"
yeah. he's a bit overdramatic . he really really wants to kick your poor dog but he loves you (and he's scared of you) so he holds back
you can never leave him alone with your dog (as if he'll agree) because he will FIGHT WITH YOUR DOG . literally your dog would be sitting or laying down on the sofa and he'll push it off and lay his entire body where the dog was previously laying down
he'd eat the treats to spite it . enough said
when you're out of town or sick, he might begrudgingly agree to look after it, but he won't listen to ANYTHING you say and just ignore the dog
"have you fed beanie yet?" your buzzed voice echoes through dazai's phone, the sound of a crowded area ringing in the background.
"yes, i have," dazai sighs exasperatedly, "but it won't eat."
"what do you mean? do i need to go home?"
"i gave it an egg. why won't it eat?"
"you gave him an egg? i showed you where his food is, right? i already prepped it before i left!"
"it deserves an egg! it stole my spot on the sofa!"
he always manages to insult chuuya every time he insults your dog, like "you're so stinky, stupid and small. just like chuuya." or "ha! you fell for it. dumb like chuuya."
will play with your dogs toys, hides it, even breaks it? like damn what did the dog do to u
you will never be able to make him get along with your dog.
┊❛ nakahara chuuya ❜┊
he doesn't hate cats, unlike dazai, so when he finds out you have a cat he isn't necessarily losing his mind about it. he prefers dogs, yeah, but cats are fine to him.
his beef with your cat, however, is about getting your attention.
he loves spending time with you, since he has so little of it sometimes, so understand how frustrated he is when in his small space of time where he can actually be with you, he's being replaced by a cat.
he's being dramatic, though.
"excuse me," he tuts away the black cat resting on your chest, shooing her away from the bed and takes its place on you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, "it's my turn."
you chuckle quietly, dragging your fingers through his hair, "didn't daisy just settle down?"
chuuya lets out a huff, "she's been hogging you all week, it's only right that i get my time with you."
"well you haven't been home, daisy's been keeping me company."
"yeah yeah, now it's my time. daisy can go fuck off."
he feeds your cat when you ask him to, but will never even attempt to clean the litter box . that's on you
like i said, he doesn't really beef much with your cat, he even plays with her sometimes when you're all hanging out, watching movies or making food in the kitchen. it feels domestic to him, even.
but he gets annoyed a bit because your cat scratches at EVERYTHING. to his sofas, closets, shoes ???? hats ?????? even the cat hair its EVERYWHERE. he gets irritated when he sees the small hairs flying away when he pulls out his coat from the closet.
"how the fuck did you hair even get here?" he tries to clean off the fur from his special coat, which was covered with plastic, that he reached for from the very back of the closet. your lovely cat, daisy, was sitting gracefully on the vanity table right beside the closet, licking her paws.
chuuya looks at your cat with absolute frustration but doesn't have the heart to do anything. he grabs the lint roller from the closet and points it threateningly at the cat, "one more thing like this and i'll shave you down, ya hear me??"
he thinks your cat looks adorable when she sleeps in one of his hats, though. just make sure she doesn't knock over his wine glasses and you'll live a happy life.
╰─▸ ❝ @[akutails]'s work is not open to reposts, plagiarism, and the likes. (09/07/22). taglist: @sips-tea-cutely, @njisano, @atsucafe.
#✎ love letters#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#chuuya x reader#dazai x reader#nakahara chuuya#dazai osamu#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya#nakahara chuuya x reader#dazai osamu x reader#dazai fluff#dazai hcs#chuuya fluff#chuuya hcs#chuuya imagines#dazai imagines
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Don’t Blame Me | John 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem!OC
Chapter 2: Welcome to New York
Ao3 Link | Masterpost
John 'Soap' Mactavish wasn't thrilled to be given an escort mission to bring a young woman halfway across the world to a secret safe house especially when he has to pretend to be her husband. At least she's pretty.
Tags: Fake Marriage, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Build, Canon-Typical Violence
CW: Self harm
Words: 1.9k
“Oh, fuck me, lassie.” Her hand had connected with something hard and was throbbing. George or John or whatever his actual name is was clutching his jaw.
“Sorry.” She grimaced. The plan had landed and people were now staring. You’re his wife, act like it she thought. She moved his hand and used a finger to tilt his head up. “You know better than to wake me up like that, sweetie. I get jumpy.”
“Yeah, my bad.” He said through clenched teeth. People were still staring, having nothing else to do while waiting to deboard. She kissed his cheek and apologized again.
She did feel bad and it wasn’t in her best interest to piss off the man sent to protect her. She didn’t know what to think of him yet. He was annoying but funny, more than she’d like to admit. She didn’t get the mohawk thing though. He was military, she could tell by how he walked but he had to be something special in order to get this job. Cpt. Price hadn’t told her much.
“I trust him and that’s all that matters.” She still had blood under her nails when he said that.
She flinched when he took her hand. He led them off the plane, bags in one hand and her in his other one. Once they headed for customs he dropped it and she couldn’t help but feel hurt. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her hand. She’d been carried, thrown, pushed, and grabbed but not held. She felt tight in her skin now. Her pointer finger scratched at the skin around her thumbnail. There were too many people around.
God, she had a pounding headache now too. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. The night before maybe? How long ago was last night? She’d been shoveled from car to plane to car to hotel to car to plane so much she couldn’t even tell what day it was. Her stomach hurt, he was right she shouldn’t have drank but it was too late now.
“Can we eat?” She asked, moving too quickly and bumping into his shoulder.
“We have to get through customs first then we can,” he stopped and looked at her. “When did you eat last?”
“Last night.” She would go without him but he had all the money. “Just give me the cash and I’ll catch up with you.”
“I’m not leaving you alone right after we land. You might slip away from me and Price will have my hide if that happens. Come on.” They walked back into the airport.
“I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much on fast food before.” He said as they walked away with two trays worth of burgers, chips, and chicken nuggets. She’d let him order, not knowing how to use the fancy screens. He kept asking her if she wanted this or that she just nodded along, unsure of what she was agreeing to. The workers seemed surprised they were just a party of two instead of five. It smelled good, it was just warm and soft, filled with salt and fat. It was a comfort that she had missed. It had been close to fifteen years since she last had a cheeseburger. Closer to ten since the last time she had beef or chicken. Wild deer and rabbit had been her main staples and she currently didn’t miss them. It tasted the same as she remembered.
“Did Price not feed you?” He asked as she picked up a second burger.
“He tried.” She said, unwrapping the wax paper. A packet of plain crackers was probably still sitting on the hotel nightstand, half-eaten.
“Let me show you something. Take off the top bun and put the chips on it.” He said, offering her the cardboard sleeve of chips. She took some and followed his instructions. He was chuckling “It’s good, right?”
She nodded, taking a second bite. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, she still wasn’t a fan of the mohawk though.
“Atta girl.”
The supply drop was at a hotel in Brooklyn. He’d hailed a cab at her request. The city was both terrifying and mistifying. She couldn’t help but look out the car window at all the people going about their daily lives. She was envious at how ordinary they all were, going back to their apartments, working their jobs, not worrying about when they’d have to fight for their life again. She’d always wanted simple. She’d had simple at one point. Living alone deep in the mountains. It was boring at some times but she could always just sleep instead. She missed the cold. It was cold in New York but it was a different cold. It was grey and angry. Her cold was clear and indifferent. It didn’t bother to care for the people on the ground, it just was. It was the only constant she had. A cold room, a warm bed and the singing of the wind outside.
The room was already reserved for them when they got there. It wasn’t as nice as the previous hotel but she still flopped onto the bed face first.
“You’ve already slept for eight hours today. How much more do you need?” He locked the deadbolt and moved the room’s armchair in front of the door. She rolled over onto her back and covered her eyes with her arm.
“I sleep until I’m no longer tired. I am still tired.” She yawned. Price told her that the adrenaline would ware off and once it did she would crash hard. She knew what he was talking about now. Eight hours felt like a cat nap. “Can we stay here tonight?”
“Maybe. I have to check in with Price.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, rummaging through his backpack. “I would shower or something, this might be the only chance you have for a couple days.”
She didn’t want to get up, she wanted to close her eyes, count to ten and open them to find out she’d had a very bad dream. She could fall back asleep and dream up a happier scenario where she was in a hotel room with an irritatingly handsome scot.
He was staring at her, she could tell even with her eyes closed. It wasn’t a suggestion, in truth. He wanted her out of the room. She groaned as she pushed herself off the bed.
“Enjoy your call.” She said, locking the bathroom door behind her.
She wasn’t use to mirrors this big and clean and lights this bright. She shed her clothes, leaving a dark heap on the floor. She was blue and purple and green, a child’s finger painting. She prodded at each bruise, organizing them in her mind based on how much they hurt. She couldn’t stop looking in the mirror of the other hotel either. Her reflection was a unfamiliar fiend. It didn’t make sense to her. Her face didn’t move the way she thought it did. She looked shorter, smaller than she felt. She clamored onto the counter to analyze her face again. Was she pretty? Did it matter? Did he think she was pretty? Arthur called her pretty. Arthur said a lot things that ended being untrue though. She decided she didn’t like mirrors.
She did like showers though. She flipped the water to the hottest it could go and let the mirror steam up. The hotel shampoos and soap smelled like herbs and citrus. She went through a whole bar. Nothing made her feel clean like hot water, she wanted it to burn and cleanse. She sat down and let the water fall down her back. She thought about crying but couldn’t force anything out. Price had said that might take a while too. She wanted to cry, cut open her chest and let all the pressure out. Every moment felt like she was closer and closer to exploding. She didn’t want to try in front of him.
She bit her arm, digging her teeth into the meat of her bicep. She felt the blood vessels popping underneath her skin. She wondered how hard she’d have to bite in order to break the skin, pulling off a chunk of flesh with it. He knocked on the door before she found out.
“Grace? You okay? It’s been a while. Say something, please.” He sounded worried. She let go of her arm. “I need a response or I will come in.”
“I’m okay.” She said. There was a perfect imprint of her teeth on her left bicep, red little squares. She sighed. “I’ll be out soon.”
“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.” She didn’t know how much time had passed but it was enough to worry him.
‘It’s not like I’m going to hurt myself,’ she thought. She looked at her arm and realized he was right.
She didn’t bring a change of clothes. She tied a towel around herself and pressed her forehead against the door. She really didn’t want to deal with this.
“Hey, could you close your eyes for a minute?” She asked, cracking the door slightly.
“Your suitcase is on the left.” He answered. She could see him in the reflection of the closet doors. ‘Why are there so many fucking mirrors here?’ He was laying on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. His shirt had rode up a bit. She craned her neck a little bit before remembering her own nakedness. She grabbed the suitcase and slammed the door.
“We’ll leave tomorrow morning. There’s a cross country train that should take us all the way there. Separate beds too.” He said, gesturing to the single queen he was laying on. Her hair was still damp and hung loosely. She was glad she chose to change into joggers and a t-shirt. Laswell had good taste. She missed her old clothes. She didn’t have time to pack and all the clothes she was wearing were probably incinerated along with everything else.
She grabbed the tv remote and sat at the top of the bed, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. There were way too many channels and nothing of interest. She watched tv as a kid but none of that seemed to still be showing.
“Does the sheep show still exist?” She asked.
“The sheep show?”
“Yeah, the little clay sheep. He lives on a farm.”
“That is where sheep live.” He laughed.
“Don’t make fun of me.” She pushed his shoulder with her foot.
“I’m sorry. You’re just asking about a kid’s show from over a decade ago. It’s a little funny, Grace.”
“I haven’t seen a tv in over a decade, I don’t know what’s on it anymore and please don’t call me that.”
“But you’re Grace McIntosh, you’re my wife.” She gave him an annoyed look.
“It’s Nina. Call me Nina…please.” She thought she heard her voice crack.
“I’m sorry, Nina. Here, let me look. It might be able to find it.” He held out a hand for the remote. He was always genuine with her, she could see it in those blue eyes. He’d tease but he knew where the line was. She handed over the remote and let him search. “It’s a nice name.”
“Huh?”
“Nina. It’s a nice name. Pretty.” He was looking at the tv so he didn’t see her bury her face against her legs, hiding the red in her cheeks.
#she's my special feral child#john soap mactavish#call of duty modern warfare#soap#call of duty#cod mwii#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw22#cod fanfic#call of duty mw2#mw2 fanfic#mw2#soap mactavish#Don't Blame Me
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Fluffy for Remus
Remus watched his beautiful girlfriend get into the boat to leave Hogwarts as a student for the last time. He couldn’t help but stare at her beauty before trotting up to catch up with her. Remus sat next to her, wrapped her quickly up in his arms. She leaned into his embrace and for the moment he was content. But life as a werewolf was not easy and keeping a job was hard. (Y/n), insisted she was alright with supporting him. Though that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty every time he lost a job. Remus sat at the kitchen table with a muggle newspaper. (Y/n) walked in nothing but one of his shirts and a skimpy pair of panties. She shuffled over and kissed him on his head as she wrapped his arms around him, “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a job.” He says as circles another flexible job opportunity.
“In the muggle newspaper?” She asked in not a judgmental manner but rather curiosity.
“Yeah I can work my schedule around the full moon without anyone thinking anything of it. So it’ll be easier to hold on to the job… you know?”
He paused to look at her and she nodded, “Alright, if that’s what you want to do. But don’t risk your health alright?”
“I promise to do only what I can. I know… but I need to work, I can’t let you do everything. You’re working two jobs because I can’t hold down a job and we would barely scrape by if you didn’t work the second when I don’t have a job. I can’t do that to you… I refuse to be a burden, it’s supposed to be me to who takes care of you. Don’t tell me it’s not because it is.” He grumbles.
(Y/n) gives him a squeeze before shuffling to the cupboard, “Pancakes?”
“That would be nice, thank you love.”
….
Remus got a job as a waiter at a decent restaurant that paid well for only four days of work. The job allowed him to pick his days out each week so it was perfect for him. He felt like like a contributing family member. Not just (y/n)’s sickly stay at home boyfriend but her partner and boyfriend who can help take care of her. Not a burden. Today after he got off work, he stopped by his father’s place, it was time to ask for his mother’s engagement ring. He was finally in a position where he felt worthy and deserving of love. He was going to finally make (y/n) his wife.
On his walk home he fiddled with the box. He practiced his speech in his head over and over as if he hadn’t imagined it a thousand times before. He stepped inside their shared small apartment to the smell of something delicious cooking. He instinctively hummed to himself. He stepped behind her and wrapped himself around her as she cooked, “What are you making love?”
“Beef stroganoff.” (Y/n) hummed.
“Smells delicious. How was your day love?” Remus kissed her shoulder.
She spun around, “It has about fifteen-twenty minutes to cook, want to sit?” He nodded and they do, “today we had this guy try to smuggle this huge cursed artifact into the ministry! It was epic! You should have seen Peter’s face when they popped open this guy’s suitcase and out popped this gargoyle esk statue! He screamed bloody murder like it had tentacles or something. Like for real that was the best part my day.”
“Watching Peter nearly shit himself? You got a mean streak.” Remus chuckled.
(Y/n) brushed him off, “Whatever you say, how was your day?”
Remus smiled softly, “Oh you know, same old same old. But I did stop by my father’s place.”
“Oh? How is he?”
“Excited.” She gave him a questioning look, “You see, I have found the most beautiful and supportive woman a man can ask for. I asked him for my mother’s engagement ring so that I might ask her for her hand in marriage. So (y/n) will you please make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
“Oh my Merlin!!!! Yes! Yes I will marry you oh my goodness!” She squeals as he took her into his arms and spun her around.
He gave her a peck, “better get the oven, the times up.”
(Y/n) playfully smacked him, “Remus Lupin, your timing is horrendous.” And the two laughed.
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Dolly
Human Alastor x Wife!Reader
Pt 2, Finale
Tw: talk of being a housewife, trad housewife, mention of pregnancy, murder, violence, cannibalism, reader being called wife and being addressed as a woman.
Note: I tried to make it very 1930s.
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“Oh I do thank you Linda for coming over for some tea,” You smile although rather irritated, as you sip the hot citrusy drink in a fine China teacup. Linda, your neighbor, found herself knocking on your doors and it’s be rude for you to just turn her away and so she’s now sat at the dining room with you.
“Oh please! No need to thank me. I just thought that you need a bit of entertainment, especially since your husband ever comes home,” Linda chuckles as you place a piece of cake on her plate.
“He is a busy man! The radio is nothing without my dear Alastor.” You smile, thinking of your husband.
“But a man who loves his dear wife would make time for her no matter the circumstance! I mean, look at you! You’re not getting any younger and yet you have no little kids running around, here and about!” Linda motions to the empty house.
“Alastor and I have discussed children. We do not want any,” You force a smile.
“Oh don’t be like that!” Linda playfully slaps your arm.
“I’m sorry?”
“What woman does not want a child of her own? I know that’s how I keep my husband on a leash!” Linda chuckles.
You place your teacup down on the saucer. “I assure you, my husband does not need any leashing.”
“Oh but he’s quite the bee’s knees. I’m sure many young women can’t help but to ogle at him!”
You clench your hands into a fist yet you kept a smile. “They can ogle all they want, but I promise my husband only has eyes for me. He’s fortunately nothing like Connor.” You say, mentioning her disloyal husband.
“Hey! That’s-“ A timer from the kitchen rings, interrupting your conversation.
“Please excuse me. I must check the bread rolls. He happens to be very fond of the food I make.” You say, standing up and straightening out your dress.
You waltz into the kitchen and checked the bread rolls in the oven. After taking it out to cool, you were about go back to the dining room but your hands brushed against a knife you had accidentally left out. You bit the bottom of her lip and looked at the direction of your dear neighbor. Your hand wraps around the handle and hid it behind your back.
“I’m back Linda!” You call once you’re a step away from the living room. “The rolls came out beautiful.”
“It does smell deli-“ Linda gasps as she feels a piercing pain on her neck. Her eyes go to where you are, unable to move her head.
“Linda dear, how could you think you could ever say such horrid things about my husband and live to tell the tale?” You say, leaning close to say softly next to her ear. You then stand straight once more. “Shit, I did not think ahead about this.” You click your tongue and just went for it, yanking the knife out of her neck, the blood spattering on the food and onto the walls.
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Humming to yourself, you smile as you take out the delicious beef stew you made. The sound of doorknob turning is heard from the living room and you immediately took your apron off and ran to greet Alastor.
“Alastor!” You smile, hugging him.
“Well good evening to you too, ma cheri!” The radio host chuckles, dropping his bag to his side and wrapping an arm around your waist.
“May I?” You look at him with pleading eyes, asking for a kiss.
“Of course, dear,” his smile widens as he leans in for a sweet kiss.
“How was work?” You ask after you pull apart. You help him put his bag away along with his jacket.
“It’s lovely as always. I’m fortunate to be doing my life long passion. And how has my dear wife been?” He asks, pulling your hand towards him, bringing you back into his embrace.
“Well, it’s as usual. I cleaned the house and ran some errands. I cooked dinner. . .”
He hums, “That must be why it smells so good in here.”
You chuckle, “ Oh! And Linda gave me a small visit a while ago.”
Alastor’s smile darkens, “Ah yes, that little thing with a mouth far too big for her.”
You giggle, “She does not have a single thought in her head. Now come before the food gets cold!” You usher, pulling him into the living room.
Alastor is greeted by an amazing feast prepared by you. “Oh how wonderful! Did you rearrange the room?”
“Yeah I did. . . I thought the dining room seemed a bit outdated.”
He takes your hand and kisses the back of it. “You surely have an eye for beauty.”
“Oh you jest!” You giggle, a blush forming on your cheeks.
“Oh I’d never!” He chuckles, sitting down across from her and adjusting his circle rimmed glasses. “Beef stew. Looks wonderful dear!”
“Oh, I just thought I should try a new recipe.” You scoop up some of the stew to place on his plate but was stopped when he held your wrist.
“No please allow me, ma cheri. You’ve already worked so hard today. What husband am I if I keep my dear wife working instead of looking pretty,” He chuckles as he places a generous amount on your plate then his.
You look at him expectantly, excited to see his reaction to the food you cooked. He brings the hot food to his mouth and chews on it. The flavor and texture isn’t the same of beef, nor pork. This tastes familiar. He then looks up at his beaming wife.
“This is delicious dear! I’d like to know the butcher you went to. The quality of this beef is amazing!” Alastor praises his wife.
“Oh it’s still the same butcher we go to. It just happens to be a very fresh batch.” You say, eating the food, pleased by his reaction.
Suddenly, telephone rings from the living room and you stand up. “I’ll get it dear,” Alastor stops you. He puts the phone to his ear, “Alastor speaking.”
“Alastor! How have you been? I called to ask if Linda happens to be there. She has not come home!” Connor, Linda’s husband, speaks on the other side of the phone.
“Oh? My wife did say she payed her a visit but left right after,” Alastor answers.
“Is that so? Well thank you Alastor, and tell your wife I said thank you for the beef pot pie, the kids and I myself loved it! We finished it all, nothing remaining.”
“Of course, I’ll be sure to tell her. I do hope you find Linda, after all with the rumors about her, it’d be scandalous of her not to be home at this hour. Good bye.” Alastor says, putting the phone down. He looks at the direction of the dining room with a smirk.
“Who was it?” You ask after he sat back down.
“It was just Connor, mon cher. He told me to tell you thank you for the beef pot pie and that they finished it all,” Alastor says.
“Oh wow- I didn’t think it’d be that good!” You gasps.
“I’m sure he enjoyed the flavor of the fresh kill. I know for sure I do~” Alastor smiles darkly at his dear wife who looks so innocent. Such a doll you are, sitting all pretty and perfect. “Stay still, my dear.”
He takes his napkin and wipe the red sauce on the corner of your lips. “So messy,” He teases, pecking your lips.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin x you#hazbin x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n
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The Nation of My Race, An Extension of My Home. 🇲🇾
Malaysia, the land of the Malayan people and a name that was supposedly trademarked by the Philippines if it weren't for those pesky Brits. However, this is a land that I could tell that is already my home. Change the demographics of Tsinoy with Indians with a vibe of Mindanao - and tada! You have Malaysia! Different country, but same kind and warm people. But since the Philippines and Malaysia have a controversial history, it's inescapable to have antagonizing feelings when mentioning where we are from. That said, these feelings are driven by politics and national history but on an individual level we have the same respect and tolerance as most ASEANs do. For me, South East Asia is my home and although we have our differences, that shouldn't be something to argue about, but rather to embrace and celebrate it.
We started our day living in Ahyu Hotel, an Indian hotel located in Little India (duh) in Kuala Lumpur. One thing I noticed about Kuala Lumpur is that the roads are tight yet the drivers are extremely fast. People here are driving 140 kph as if it's a norm. Not to mention motorcycles driving in a walking lane. Yes, the Freaking Pedestrian lane! What a very interesting culture indeed (but then again, similar to PH).
Another thing I noticed is the food, I love how they use peanuts in almost every dish. One of my favourites is the mochi - a chewy snack with a lot of nuts on it. They also have this soy milk which is very famous near the Chinese-Indian Street Market. But perhaps the most highlighted of them all is the Chinese Beef Noodles - now this is a must-try. my wife and I are eating in this Chinese Noodle house and boy the attention of the crowd just went onto us. Especially me. You can tell on their face; "Why is this is Indian-Jakartan idiot doing with a White Malaysian?". The eyes from my head all the way to my feet was some sort of fascination (or confusion) of why I was doing there. Even the people in the kitchen are looking at me. Are we celebrities? Aliens? Interracial couples that had a fixed marriage due to parental pressure and poverty? No! We're tourists trying out new things and we ask to eat our noodles and judge people in peace.
And now, the fun parts.
Of course, this vacation blog won't be complete without the funny things I discovered in Malaysia. Again, like I said, it's almost the same as the Philippines but different. First and foremost, People jaywalk but to the next level, (and I really mean jaywalk - like it's still a red light jaywalk) Second, Grocery stores are great but I kinda miss how the baggers are well organized at home - which I kinda owe an apology for not being grateful for. Baggers in Malaysian grocery usually stack everything in the bag without measuring any kind of geometry between the plastic size and the items. So I had to take them out again and reorganize them so that the bag is well balanced and well-shaped (See SM store bag shape when full of groceries so you will know what I'm talking about). Third, is the smell of curry everywhere!! ☺️ My wife doesn't like it, but I don't mind. Fourth, is electric scooters are parked almost everywhere on the street. Like really a random scooter will just appear while you're walking in the street. And Finally, of all the places I have been – pedestrians have been jaywalked, and going over the speed limit on the road, I've only seen 4 police officers in my whole trip. Like seriously, are they that strong in the rule of law? Or are they undermanned? That said, I've never seen anything dangerous in Kuala Lumpur except cheeky salesmanship. I would say it's a great place and a beautiful country.
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THE PINK MAN
The pink man clicked his fingers at me. I went over to this table.
“Yes, sir?” I said.
“We have a problem,” the pink man said. He was holding a fork.
“What’s the issue, sir?”
“That.”
He nodded down. I didn’t understand and I blinked. He nodded, again, at his fork.
“That,” he said. “It’s dirty.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. The fork isn’t clean?”
“No, it is not.”
“Apologies about that,” I took the utensil off of him, “I hope you’re enjoying your starters at least?”
He chewed his food. His family watched me. The family consisted of a boy and girl, in their teens, and a wife/woman, who was white haired and overweight, whom I’d never heard speak. The pink man was the only audibly verbal person. They were regulars at the restaurant.
The offensive fork was now in my hand. I thought about plunging it into pink man’s neck. It would be so enjoyable. It was a mad, plush, lovely imagination, though only fleeting.
“Okay well, let me know when you’re ready for your mains,” I said, and then left and went across the floor into the kitchen, where the chefs had ringed me to take more plates out.
The chefs were remarkably calm people – lads, around my age (in their mid to late twenties) – despite having to work fourteen hour shifts. Some of them did seventy hours per week. Their tactics in their worklives was to do lots of practical jokes, talk about trivial stuff, chat about the waitresses who we fancied. There wasn’t much else to do.
“The pink man,” I said to them, when I came into the kitchen, “is moaning again.”
“Oh, he’s in. Again,” the head chef said, “what’s his problem this time?”
“This fork is too dirty to use.”
I showed them the fork. They shrugged. The KP was this twitchy guy who stayed in the corner by his dishwasher; he always made weird noises, like he was a bird or a cat. He didn’t give a shit about the fork, he just put it in his cutlery bucket.
“Tell the pink man to go fuck himself,” the head chef said, and winked.
“I’d like to.”
I had to take other plates out to a different table. This was a Sunday. And a hundred people every Sunday ordered roasts, you know, classic Sunday roasts with chicken and beef and gravy and peas on so on.
Weirdly, a lot of them never finished the chickens. There were all of these dead beheaded chickens in the oven and the chefs cut those in half once they were cooked and then hunk it on a plate with a bath of gravy and co. Barely anybody ever ate a full roast plate and you should have seen how much waste just went into the food bin in the kitchen. The flayed bodies of birds.
Lots of people liked the smell but I hated it.
Once back on the floor, I passed the pink man and his family. We called him pink man because, 1. We didn’t know his first name, and, 2. He always wore this pink shirt, which seemed to accentuate his already-pink neck: he forever looked drunk and coloured in the face, with high blood pressure or whatnot.
Widely renowned, this man was, for being rude to the workers in the restaurant. Not just me.
I wondered if he’d ever had to work a minimum wage job in his life. Whether he’d ever once been young and poor. Or if he’d had a job in hospitality. Maybe he had – and remembered what it was like – and resented us because of those bad memories. Or, perhaps he hadn’t, and saw himself as financially superior. That ‘posh arrogance’ or whatever you’d like to call it. Or, more realistically, the pink man only enjoyed being mean.
Cos we couldn’t do anything back to him.
Most of the people that dined in the restaurant weren’t mean; they were polite and complimentary and ate their food and left.
As were the people that I served the plates to now. They smiled, and thanked me, and I left.
It was around six o’clock – the rush hours had passed earlier in the afternoon and there weren’t that many people on the floor at this point.
Because it had been so heavy earlier, we’d run out a lot of the roast meat. The chickens were aplenty but the pork had just ran out the last hour.
I heard the waiter bell ding in the background. Meaning I had to go back to the kitchen. And, on the way, guess what?: the pink man clicked his fingers at me. His adolescent kids enjoyed gaping at me, it seemed.
“How’s it going sir?” I said.
“We’d like to order the mains.”
“Brilliant, what would you like?”
I took their orders. Or, rather, the pink man told me what his wife and kids would like to eat. His wife wanted some pork with her roast meal.
“Ah, I regret to say, sir, that we don’t have any pork any longer.”
“Huh?”
“I’m very sorry but we’ve ran out of pork. But there is still beef and chicken, still. And some lamb, if you’d like?”
He tutted. And turned to his woman and said, “Is that okay with you?”
She gave him a thumbs up. Her necklaces glinted and she had these maroon-painted nails and was usually more drunk than pink man was. I took down the details from him (as he kept chewing the remains of his starters) and left.
Fifteen minutes later I was called into the kitchen to take four roast plates out to pink man’s family. I wasn’t a good enough waiter to carry four plates at once. So I did two at a time. The first two I gave to him and the wife, and then I went back to get the other ones. When I returned the second time, pink man was scowling at me. Properly wrathful. And his skin colour had deepened to red.
“Are you joking me!” he said.
“What’s the matter sir?”
He was holding a knife this time. A butter knife.
“Are you the one that cleans the dishes?” he said.
“No.”
“Who is it, then?”
“Well, one of my colleagues in the kitchen.”
“Look at that knife! Does that look clean to you?”
It did. Look clean. But I didn’t say this to him. There was a whole load of things I did want to say, instead, but I clamped them down. I apologised. Again. And took the knife away and brought him a new knife. Knives are far more lethal utensils than forks and there were further wonderful visions of attacking this obnoxious man.
Elsewhere, the other tables finished dining and vacated. I made a cup of coffee and drank it. I thought about how it was kinda self inflicted that I was working this shitty job. Minimum wage. I was 29, for fuck’s sake. What was I doing here? Laziness, I suppose. If I were 19 years old I wouldn’t have pictured myself being here ten years henceforth. It was my own fault … and similarly gloomy thoughts proliferated.
I wished I could just bail. Wished that my two degrees (I had an MA and an MSc degree) would help me get a better job. I longed for this shift to be over, and I had four more hours to go. And I knew that that table was still there.
I wondered, when I saw pink man, what he did for a living. What his hobbies were, if he had any. Was he really a nice person to his significant others? Was there some horrible story of how he was abused my his father (verbally and in a disciplinary sense, I mean) when he was younger, which would explain the way he was?
Snapping his thumb and middle finger at me didn’t make me feel like a dog. Cos most people like dogs and are friendly to them. Dogs are likeable cheery animals and you don’t get their attention to cause offense.
“Would you like the desserts now?” I said to him.
He was way into the wine. I got the dessert orders. They were sundae glasses, ice cream and berries and chocolate sauce and,
“My wife would like some toffee sauce instead of chocolate. Do you still have toffee sauce?”
“Uh hu.”
“Sorry?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“We still have toffee sauce.”
“Why are you being rude?”
“I am not.”
“You don’t speak to customers like that.”
“Didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll get your sundaes for you.”
I didn’t care anymore.
If you were to put this man into a military zone. A war zone, I mean: drop him off in a helicopter in Yemen, or the Sudan, or Syria, or even Ukraine (the one that Westerners seem to care about) … if you could pop him randomly in such a place, would he act the same way? How long would he last? Or, if you were to fly him out to Alaska or the Antarctica, drop him on the tundra, would his ego remain intact?
He must’ve been in his fifties. I was 29, and still on minimum wage. But I also knew that I wouldn’t be a cunt if I ever got past mu 50th birthday.
I went into the kitchen for the desserts. The KP was the person that made the desserts – it was his job as well as the dishes.
He was an interesting young man who would ask you conversational questions and he found eye contact hard and was insanely shy but you liked him and he was studied and underemployed as well and he was actually a total belter of a KP – he never put in a bad shift.
“Is this for pink man’s table?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“They complained about my ice cream the other week.”
“What was wrong with the ice cream?”
“They said it was ‘too melted’. It’d melted too much and was all liquidy.”
I laughed.
He finished making the sundaes. They looked glorious. Could belong on a billboard advert.
I carried them out unto the colosseum. Using the same tactic as before – to give to the adults before the kids, two at a time, scared that I might drop something. Was full of hate and despondency, despite how much I loved the colleagues.
Unto the floor. I saw pink man’s head. He didn’t do the fingers this time – only pointed at his empty glass. He wanted another drink.
I picked up the speed as I crossed to the table. Then I pretended that there was something under my foot. Some object was under my boot. That snagged my gait. And it hit me and then I pretended to fall over.
And I aimed one of the sundae glasses at the pink man. During the fall. Projected all the sugary junk at him.
It went all over his cheeks.
At the same time I dropped the other glass. Because I didn’t want to hit the kids or the woman. Only him. And that glass rolled away.
The glass that I’d flung at him landed the right side of me and it didn’t smash. (Which I regret. I wish it would’ve smashed.)
I thought I did an okay thespian. The clumsy waiter.
“Oh, jeepers,” I said, standing up. And I addressed pink man. The cream and sauce and berries were all over his skull and his shirt and the content sluiced down towards his jeans. He sat. Stunned.
“Oh no,” his wife said.
“Dad, are you okay?” his daughter said.
“What’d you do that for?” his son said, looking at me.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said.
And I laughed.
I could not help it. Just smirked. You know when you ejaculate some laughter and it infects you. And you can’t override the avalanche.
“I’ll run into the kitchen and get you some hankies.”
I left.
Never saw the pink man’s family again after that night. They never came back. They put in a complaint against me. I got fired.
But, it’s one of my finest moments. Non violent revenge. Finest form of vengeance.
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Omg becs! We need something about son's best friend Bucky because i can't even begin to explain how much it turns me on to think about geting him hard under the table while having dinner all together (and by that I mean my husband, my son and Bucky) and then offering to give gim a lift and driving him home and fucking in the car i just need it
Okay, the THOTS I have about this, I fucking love it 🥵 Like maybe your son tells you his college roommate has really far to travel to go home on weekends so maybe he spends the weekends alone, living off frozen pizzas and instant noodles (and I imagine he looks like precious lil TJ 🥺)
So instead, your husband offers to invite him over for Sunday dinner. It's not a bother, you always make way too much food anyway and it saves this nice boy from having to eat anymore junk. He'd at least get a good, home cooked dinner and something sweet afterwards and it makes you feel a little better knowing he has some company too.
But the first time the poor boy sees you he's clearly smitten, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He hadn't been warned that you're nothing short of a milf, wearing a cute little apron and God, he wishes that's all you were wearing. And as much as this boy has fallen for you, he's fallen for your cooking just as hard. He thinks he's died and gone to Heaven when you lean over, offering him a second serving of potatoes because you noticed how quickly he ate what you put on his plate. He doesn't want to think about it but his dick is stirring pleasantly in his trousers, feeling you brush against him, the smell of your perfume overwhelming him in the best kind of way, never mind the sight of your cleavage as you lean over him.
It's not long before Bucky finds himself living for a Sunday. He feels so welcome in your home and he always leaves with cheeks that hurt from smiling, a fully belly and a half hard cock.
Over the weeks, he begins to pick up on the little things, like how you and your husband hardly break breath to each other, how you're left with the dishes every week and how your husband and son often don't even stick around long enough for dessert. Bucky pretends not to notice the heartbreaking look on your face as week after week your husband leaves you feeling unappreciated.
So Bucky does his best to make up for it, complimenting you every single chance he gets. "God, it smells so good in here." he groans one particular Sunday, making his way through the door and straight to the kitchen to greet you as he enters the house, leaving your son to sit in the living room with his father.
"Making your favourite today, Buck. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and gravy." You smile, knowing already that his response is going to make you feel more appreciated than your husband has all week.
"God, I love you, you know that? I keep telling Ollie's friends that you're my dream wife. Tell them all that someday I'm gonna find myself a woman like you. Gonna give her a couple of cute little babies and make sure she's the happiest damn woman on earth." Your stomach tightens at his words because you wish you were about 20 years younger. You'd give him that life in a heartbeat.
"She'll be a lucky lady, sweetheart. You're a lovely boy, you'll make a great husband for someone some day" You smile warmly, noticing that little cocky smile on his face.
"You think so? Cause I mean, if things don't work out with you and your husband, I'd love to show you how well I'd treat a woman like you. Would make sure you know your worth." You've never heard him be so openly suggestive, usually he never goes further than a little harmless compliment while he's helping you with the dishes but today, he's so much more brazen.
But you laugh it off, telling him that you and your husband have been married too long to call it quits now, hoping that'll be the end of the discussion.
At dinner though, your husband hardly takes the time to look at you while Bucky sits beside you, showering you in compliments. "Fuck, I'll never understand how you get those carrots to taste so good." He groans, helping himself to a few more from the dish in the centre of the table.
"They're just roasted with butter, honey and brown sugar, Buck. Nothing special." You smile, watching as he happily clears the serving he just put on his plate.
"Guess it must just be you that makes them special." He smirks and you can't take anymore. Your son isn't paying attention and your husband certainly isn't so you take the chance, placing your hand on Bucky's knee under the table.
Bucky looks up at you but doesn't react, hoping this is going where he thinks it's going.
And of course it does, your hand eventually creeping higher as he tries to keep his cool, stifling a groan as you work your hand over the growing bulge in his jeans. He's always at least half hard when you're around. You just seem to have that affect on him but the feeling of your hand rubbing just where he needs to feel you most has him throbbing, trying to contain himself.
He registers that your husband has asked you something and he registers that you answered but he doesn't pick up any more than that because your hand is torturing him. He so desperately wants to fuck you right then and there, it's all he can think of. He wants to bend you over the dining room table and make your husband watch how a real man would treat you but he holds himself back.
You barely breathe a word to each other as you wash the dishes and he dries them, all of your usual flirtatious banter has dissolved into an unbearable tension. It hangs in the air, neither of you daring to so much as look at the other for fear of the band snapping, making you give in to the temptation.
But when the band does snap, boy does it snap. Your eyes lock on his accidentally and you both move at once. It's needy and passionate and far too desperate, his hands gripping your waist like you're a figment of his imagination. His mouth is so hungry on yours, his lips sliding over your own, barely leaving room for your breathy gasps. He can't get enough of you and you can't get enough of him as he presses you against the kitchen counter, his hard cock pressed against you as his lips begin to trail down your neck.
But God, you can't do this here. Your husband and son are in the next room but it's so long overdue, you can't stop now that you've started. So it's not long until you're driving him to the store, beyond thankful that he has some excuse prepared about needing to go grocery shopping. Your husband doesn't even listen when you tell him you're going out because if he did, he'd realise the store you told him you were going to is closed on Sundays.
Instead, you find yourself in an empty parking lot, in the back seat of your car, underneath this sweet boy who can't tear your clothes off fast enough. His mouth is on yours, his tongue firm and insistent against your own, his bulge grinding against your core in the cramped back seat.
"You know how fuckin' hard it is to watch you play wife for him? That asshole doesn't deserve you." Bucky's lost in thought, panting against your neck as he tears your blouse off.
"Bucky please, don't wanna think of him. Wanna think of you." You gasp, feeling his mouth latch onto one of your nipples, tugging it with his teeth.
"God, your body. You're fucking beautiful and I bet you don't even know it. Jerked off to you more times than I can count." He admits and it sends want throbbing through you.
"Please baby, just fuck me. C-can't take it. Need feel you fill me up." You sound so needy, shamelessly begging to be fucked that he can't help but groan.
"Oh babe, you can't say shit like that. I'm gonna send you back home with that cute little cunt stuffed full of my cum." His voice is strained as you lift your skirt up, exposing your bare, dripping cunt to his hungry gaze while he pulls his jeans down just enough to free his cock.
"You're so perfect. Know that fuckin' pussy tastes so good but I- I can't. Needa feel you cummin' around me. Been dreaming about it for far too long." He groans, giving himself a few firm strokes before pressing his tip to your eager hole, pressing inside in a way that leaves you both moaning.
"S-so tight and wet oh my God. Gonna treat you right. Want you to cum so hard, you forget everything but my name, you got that? This pretty pussy is mine now isn't it? Tell me I own your cunt." He's growling against your skin as he starts to thrust into you and you can only whimper out a response, overwhelmed by how good he feels and how filthy this sweet boy truly is.
#asks answered <3#anon#becca writes spice#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes smut#sonsbestfriend!bucky#sbf!bucky#I didn't mean for this to get so long wtf#me giving my car the side eye bc I've never christened the back seat#I am... a whole new level of down bad#I am down HELLA bad besties#the things that do it for me rn???#I'm appalled#but also into it#tw: cheating#tw: infidelity#tw: affair
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Thomas Shelby Blurb: Cruel Nights
masterlist
summary: tommy has a nightmare and you’re there to comfort him
words: 900
a/n: fem! reader
The smell of your beef stew and freshly baked bread filled the rooms of Number 6, Watery Lane. The dimly lit lights illuminated from the windows and the sound of music playing from the radio filled your ears. It was a rather cold night as it was approaching winter, and what better way than to make something deliciously filling that warms one up straight away.
Grabbing two glasses from the kitchen cabinet, you made your way back to the living room, setting one in front of Ada who was sitting on the couch, cigarette between her slender fingers as she went on about today’s gossip.
‘I also forgot to tell you something.’ Ada said as you grabbed a bottle of wine that was sitting in one of the cupboards.
You poured the drinks whilst looking at Ada, hoping to hear more. ‘Well go on then.’
‘I’m seeing someone.’
‘I know.’ You screwed the cap back on and let yourself lay back on the couch, legs crossed, taking rather large gulps of the dark red liquid.
It was written across Ada’s face that she had no idea that you knew, but it was obvious. Ada was happier the last couple of weeks and you were truly happy for her. You couldn’t think of anyone who deserved it more than her.
‘Are you curious to know who it is?’ Her smile became straight, lips pressed together as if the person she was seeing wasn’t the best choice.
‘Ada,’ you set your glass down, ‘tell me who it is right now.’
‘Freddie.’ Ada mumbled but you couldn’t understand anything at all.
‘Speak up.’
‘Freddie Thorne.’
‘Freddie Thorne?’ You yelled back. You could’ve sworn you felt your eyeballs pop out of their sockets just a bit. Your jaw was on the floor. Out of everyone it had to be Freddie—Tommy’s enemy.
‘Ada, you know exactly what’s going to happen when Tommy finds out!’ Your disciplining words came out soft, trying to get her out of trouble.
‘Can’t you talk to him?’ Ada threw her body forward, grabbing your hands that were starting to grow cold.
‘You want me to try and talk to Tommy? Aka the most stubborn person on this planet?’
Ada nodded.
‘I don’t know,’ you retrieved your hands and placed them under your thighs. ‘He has a lot on his plate right now and I’m just trying to be a good wife.’
Ada grabbed the bottle of wine and poured herself and you another glass.
‘My god Y/n, you sound like a housewife. Be glad you married Tommy. Someone who doesn’t expect all that or thinks that it should be that way.’
You too grabbed your full glass and started taking smaller sips than you did with your first glass. ‘And what does our Comrade think of that?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘I never asked. All he ever talks about is his activism or whatever you wanna call it, and if it is not that it’s business.’
‘Welcome to the word of men.’ You raise your glass and cheersed her.
Ada left soon after the bottle of wine was empty. You cleared the dishes and put a plate of food aside for Tommy. Would he eat it? Probably not. You’ve barely seen him eat the past week. You could tell that the shop was starting to become more serious and you loved that for him. But with the bettering of the business, the nightmares of his worsened.
‘You’re still up?’ Tommy entered through the front door, surprised that you were still awake.
‘Yeah,’ You said, getting up from the couch, putting your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
‘Let’s go to bed, ey.’
Tommy followed you to your bedroom where the two of you changed out of today’s clothes and put on some sleeping attire. You made yourself comfortable in Tommy’s arms, whispering ‘I love you.’ which he returned and not long after you fell asleep.
At around 3 o’clock in the morning you awoke to the sound of sharp, frantic breaths followed by heavy twisting and turning from Tommy next to you who had his eyes closed and the words ‘No, no, please.’ escaping his lips; a nightmare.
Realising what was happening you sat up straight away and grabbed his shoulders, violently shaking him in hopes of waking him up fast.
‘Tommy, it’s okay. You're safe. Your home. You are not in France, you’re in Small Heath, far away from the war.’ You said loudly before his eyes opened.
He was on the bridge of hyperventilating, sitting up and looking around to find himself in his room.
‘You’re home, Tom.’ You grabbed his face, caressing it gentley, placing kisses on his forehead. ‘You’ve been home for a year. You will never go back to that place.’
Tommy’s chest started to rise slower and slower, his eyes found yours and went from scared to soft. He threw his head back and waited several seconds before raising his head again.
‘It hasn’t been helping.’ He stared at the table.
‘It will. What you experienced was traumatic and I will never forgive the King for sending you there but it takes time. It’s only been a year since you came back.’
Tommy pulled you on his lap, your legs straddling him as you cupped his face again.
‘I will always be by your side.’
Tommy’s lips found themselves to yours as he wiggled around in bed to lie down whilst still holding you tight. Were his nightmares going to disappear in a second? No. But would you be there to help him overcome those? Absolutely.
#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagines#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby blurbs#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby headcanons#tommy shelby headcanon#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy#john shelby#arthur shelby#polly gray#michael gray#peaky blinders#peaky blinder imagine#period drama
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Feeding Love
“Ayo, pretty boy,” Judd greets him, his grin growing when TK shoots him an annoyed look through the mirror. “Your hopeless crush is here with his weekly delivery, and it smells damn good.”
+
Carlos likes to bring the 126 food after they rescued him from a house fire.
TK Strand is freshly showered and in the middle of shaving when Judd sticks his head into the communal bathroom with a shit-eating grin playing over his features.
“Ayo, pretty boy,” he greets him, his grin growing when TK shoots him an annoyed look through the mirror. “Your hopeless crush is here with his weekly delivery, and it smells damn good.”
TK tries not to outwardly react even as his heart skips a beat at Judd’s words, but the way his friend’s eyes shine with amusement tells him he’s not successful. He washes the shaving foam quickly off his face under the watchful eye of his friend.
“Shut up, Judd,” he mutters as he grabs his black Austin Fire t-shirt, throwing it on as he leaves the bathroom with his giant friend on his heel.
“I didn’t say anything, Strand,” Judd answers, laughter coloring his voice, making his Texan accent thicker. “I’m just wondering if you’re finally going to make a move on the guy or punk out yet again.”
TK shoots him a look, scowling at him. “I thought you weren’t saying anything?”
“I’m not,” he answers with an easy grin. “I’m wondering out loud.”
“Well, how about you wonder silently, or not at all,” he questions, continuing before Judd can tease him some more. “Remember, your wife loves me and finds me adorable. I have no problem snitching to her that you’re being mean to me.”
Judd narrows his eyes at him, causing TK to smile smugly at him, only to lose his smile at Judd’s next parting comment.
“Fine, be a wimp,” he says with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “And continue to pine in silence. No skin off my nose. I already have the love of my life.”
TK takes the comment on the chin, hating that the words have such an obvious effect on him. Judd walks ahead of him, going down the stairs while TK takes a moment to stare down over the balcony, easily finding the object of his affections.
Carlos Reyes. Breathtakingly handsome, sweet, and kind Carlos, who has been bringing the team delicious meals and treats at least once a week for the last two months since they rescued him from a house fire.
To say TK has been infatuated with the man since his first visit after the fire is an understatement. He can still remember that visit vividly, just a week after the fire that left the man’s house with substantial damage, but there was Carlos in their bay shifting nervously from foot to foot with a platter of empanadas in his hands.
It had been an instant hit with the team as Carlos covered all his bases, making them with beef, chicken, cheese, and veggie fillings. TK had locked eyes with him over the heads of his team, devouring the man’s food, and when Carlos smiled at him a little amused and very pleased with himself, it had taken all of TK’s strength to not go weak in the knees over the power of his beautiful smile.
At that moment, TK had fallen for him.
“Hey,” Carlos calls out as he lifts his gaze up to him, his usual heart-stopping smile taking over his handsome face, his brown eyes twinkling even from where TK stands.
“Hey,” he calls back out, blushing at the breathless quality he hears in his voice. Then, clearing his throat with a small smile of his own, he makes his way down the stairs crossing the distance between them. “What amazing culinary treat are you spoiling us with today?” he asks, grinning at the rosy color that takes over Carlos’ face at his compliment.
“Shrimp po’ boys,” Carlos answers, giving him a shrug when he raises an eyebrow at him. “I was watching a cooking show about New Orleans and felt inspired.”
“And we thank you for that!” Paul calls out from the kitchen. Looking over a few feet away from them, TK can see that his crew is already around the island counter digging into their sandwiches.
He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he turns back to Carlos. “You spoil them,” he repeats fondly, his heart fluttering at the grin Carlos gives him in return.
“I like to bring you food. It makes me feel good,” he answers sweetly, and TK can’t help but let out a huff, charmed by the man before him.
“You’re so freaking sweet,” he can’t help but say, amazed. “Are you even real?”
Carlos goes red again. He looks down at his feet for a moment before looking back at TK with a soft expression on his face. “That’s funny,” he starts quietly, biting down on that full bottom lip TK dreams of tasting. “I wonder the same about you all the time. You’re incredible.”
TK’s breath catches at Carlos’ soft words. So far these last few weeks, he’s been so hopelessly infatuated with the man before him he hasn’t stopped to consider that maybe, just maybe, Carlos might feel the same way about him.
“Oh,” he whispers, a smile taking over his face until his cheeks start to hurt from how wide it is. His heart thumps hard under his ribcage with happiness.
“Finally,” Carlos whispers back with a wide grin of his own, his eyes twinkling with affection and amusement. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to pick up what I have so obviously been putting down,” he jokes, amused by TK’s reaction.
“You could have just said something,” TK tries to grumble but can’t quite manage it over the joy he’s feeling.
“He’s been feeding us for two months,” Judd shouts from the kitchen. “He’s been telling you, you’re just slow,” he continues.
“Oh my god,” TK mumbles, running a hand over his heated face as the rest of his friends join the debate, voicing their agreement. “Come on,” he says, taking a laughing Carlos by the hand, dragging him outside and out of sight from his crew.
He takes in a deep breath of the evening air, centering himself before he turns to face Carlos again. He’s still blushing but feels better as Carlos matches him.
He bites down on his lip, his breath catching in his throat as Carlos’ eyes go to his mouth. Letting it go, he takes another breath before stepping forward into Carlos’ space.
Carlos meets him in the middle, his hands already cradling his head as TK tilts his face up to him. He places his hands on Carlos’ hips, his fingers trembling as Carlos gives him an achingly soft kiss, taking his time as he breaks TK apart with every gentle pass of his lips over his.
He’s not sure how long they stand there, lost in a moment weeks overdue, but when they finally pull back, and TK takes in Carlos’ dazed smile, he has to swallow his tongue to keep from blurting out something embarrassing – like how he’s pretty sure he’s already in love with the man in his arms.
“I really like the food you bring us,” he says instead, getting an amused grin from Carlos at his words. “But nowhere as near as much as I like you.”
Carlos’ grin grows. He leans in, brushing his lips against the corner of TK’s mouth. “I like you too.”
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This took way to many days to write for absolutely no reason, but I liked it in the end so please, enjoy~Amanda
Warnings: N/a
Words: 2.4k+
↳{Fluffy first baths together are nothing short of what you’d expect with Inosuke}
The gentle pitter-patter of water droplets drizzling down bamboo shoots and swaying green leaves filled the otherwise quiet space. The welcoming scent of dew and greenery danced through the night air as you overlooked the outdoor bathing area, “absolutely perfect” you thought as your muscles cried in despair. You, along with your team of idiots and sweet Nezuko, had walked miles in search of a home bearing the Wisteria crest, everyone in desperate need of some rest, repair, and (hopefully) lots of delicious food. “Come in, young child, as weary as you may be, your body needs food to begin the healing process” a grainy voice beckoned. An elderly woman, just barely 5 feet wrapped in purple with shimmering silver hair, waited patiently beside the open door, “I think my husband was too excited to greet you all because he got carried away and made far too much food” she continued. “Oh don’t worry, my boys are very capable of eating you out of house and home, especially my boyfriend” you giggled while climbing the wooden steps to meet her.
You walked side by side to the dining room, the smell of beef stew and rice already reaching you, “Thanks again, to you and your husband, we’ve spent weeks running around and I know we desperately needed the break” she chuckled, “No need child, my husband misses the thrill of battle even in his old age, so we are thrilled to have you.” your eyes widened slightly but before you could ask the shorter woman of her husband's past, a loud crash could be heard behind the thin sliding door. Behind its papery protection was a scene that couldn’t be anymore hilarious; wrestling on the floor was an older man, thick and burley with round rims sliding down the bump of his nose, hovering over a wailing Zenitsu whose body was being forced into a backbend with his head held tightly in a choke-hold by the man’s hairy arms. Tanjiro stood beside the duo desperately trying to pull his friend out from under the other, trying to talk over the hefty laughter and screaming, while Inosuke stood cheering the man on as if this were some sort of cage fight.
You could feel the twitch in your eye act up, ready to pull them apart but before you could open your mouth the elderly woman cleared her throat, causing the wild bunch to freeze. Her husband's eyes slowly fell on hers as fear overcame them and as for the other three, they couldn’t help but shiver at the dead set look on yours. “What’s going on here?” the women commanded, her steel set tone sending the group scrambling into seated positions as she prowled into the room- you followed slowly behind her. Tanjiro croaked first, “W-well Mr.Shimura was telling us about his days in the force and he just wanted to show us some of his, uh, moves'' Tanjiro's voice wavered a bit at the end, not sure if ‘moves’ was the right way to describe assault. “Y/n! Please don’t let this man torture me anymore, he’s crazy!” the blonde rushed to your side with teary eyes and a tight grip on your arm. The women pulled her large husband up by his ear, “Don’t worry, you children enjoy your food, my husband,” she tugged on the lobe for emphasis, “and I will be off to bed” she turned to you, “I assume you’ll be able to find the bathing area and your room?” “Of course” you assured. The moment the couple became shadows behind the door, you could hear the wife’s grumbling- you couldn’t help but chuckle.
Unsettled by the silence, you turned to find all eyes on you, waiting for a reprimand you had no intention of delivering, “Oh ease up, eat before the food gets cold'' a collective sigh could be heard around the table, your hand gentle releasing the part of Zenitsu that was still clinging your clothes. The spot open next to Inosuke was as inviting as the mouth-watering scent of a hot meal that had been calling your name since further down the hallways. Your fingers faintly fell on the tuft of your boyfriend's hair, ruffling them a bit, before diving into your own bowl of rice and soup. While Inosuke felt your small act of affection and craved it a bit more, he only offered a messy smile as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth.
Ceramic dishes once filled with hand-cooked deliciousness were now cleaned empty, stacked into small towers all across the wooden table in some sort of toppling city. The room was almost empty too, Zenitsu and Tanjiro both eager to wash the wear away and to finally allow themselves to be consumed by uninterrupted dreams, had already taken off for the night. “I’m going to die,” the bloated heap on the floor cried, his duo-toned hair sprawled out around him and his robe strewn on the ground. You laughed, “No, Inosuke, you aren’t going to die” you laid on the carpet beside him, propped up by one elbow. As the man heaved and sighed as if he were going into labor, your nose caught a whiff of something salty and musty and earthy and gross, “I swear if you don’t go shower right now, my eyes are going to melt from my skull” you complained nasally as you pinched your nostrils shut; You were met with only louder moaning and heaving. “C’mon everyone else already-” you stopped yourself short, an idea too good to pass up crossing your mind. “Since everyone else is already tucked away, why don’t we bath together?” before you could even finish the question, Inosuke sat up faster than light, his eyes challenging yours as if saying “Are you playing me?”. “We never get to do anything just us so if you're up for it, I’m down” you concluded slightly smug as he clung to each word you uttered like a puppy waiting for a treat. You stood to leave, crouching down once more to balance your fingers below his chin, forcing him to face you, “But, no funny business”.
You didn’t even have to look to see Inosuke was following, his second set of steps echoing yours as if they were the thunder that follows lighting; two things equally as powerful, yet relied on the other for strength. Again, you were greeted by the soft flow of water streaming into the natural spring, the brilliant moonlight above lighting the large basin carved from polished rock that sat in the middle of the space. “Turn around” you asked, to which Inosuke surprisingly compiled too with only a tiny grumble. You slid your filthy clothes off layer by layer, the black garments piled together as you tip-toed into the warm water, the steam instantly feeling irresistible on your skin. “I-I’ll close my eyes so you can get in, too” you stuttered, the heavy realization of the intimacy that was to come next, an intimacy that had never been shared before. “Whatever you want, we’ll be naked anyways in the water” Insouke pointed out as he too discarded his smaller pile onto yours, however, you didn’t dare peek before you heard the breaking of water as he climbed in, didn’t dare breathe as he groaned in relief. Slowly, you uncovered your eyes, trained steadily past the demon slayer's face; awkwardly and in unusual silence, you two sat five feet apart, waiting to see who dared to move first.
Well of course it was Inosuke who shuffled through the water first towards you, “You can look at me, ya know” he said with a sort of want in his voice, as if your gaze offered an approval he sought from only you. Whether the pink that painted his skin was from the temperature or the heat of the moment, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t dwell on it for long because other things piqued your interest. While the number of times you’ve seen Inosuke wear a shirt was almost non-existent, the steam rising from the water altered his scarred chest into something else; it was more chiseled, more tanned, each dip and mark was more perfect, the reflection below somehow glowed in a way that was more than you had every painted Inosuke to be and it took your breath away. “What are ya looking at?” he asked defensively, fidgeting in an almost timid way; it reminded you that you shouldn’t be nervous around him, “You, ya dummy”. He scoffed at your bluntness, grateful to hear the normal bite in your tongue instead of the disgust he feared you’d feel towards him. His stunning pair of green orbs watched as you leaned closer to him, arms stretched as you grew even closer, “What the hel-” he panicked slightly only to be fooled as you grabbed something that was behind him; two bottles waved in front of his face as you teased, “What? Afraid of some soap, piglet?”. He muttered a string of complaints, ‘tease’ and ‘mean’ being the only two you could work out.
You squeezed the white shampoo into your open palm, setting it down somewhere on the edge of the bath, “May I?” you asked, hovering your hands beside his head. He sucked on his teeth before mumbling a raspy “fine”, easing himself between your awaiting limbs. You worked the suds into his scalp, gently massaging his dark roots with the pads of your thumbs before working your way down to bunch his falling strands, lathering them in the floral-scented soap. As you worked to cover every last inch of his scalp in bubbles, Inosuke struggled to keep quiet; his half-lidded eyes fluttered with every circular rub, his mouth slightly agape as he relished in your touch and had to work at suppressing the purrs that threatened to escape his chest like a cat.
“Bend down a little, will ya” you pushed against his head till he was close enough to the water that when he tipped back, his long tresses would be covered. You rinsed his hair gently, taking your time to enjoy this rare chance with your loved one (along with the funny faces you knew he was making). Inosuke wanted to say something, anything would do really, but he just couldn’t put syllables together as if with every trail your fingers followed, you sucked away his ability to think. You had already rid his scalp from the soap, however, you weren’t ready to let go just yet; you ushered him out of the water so you could use your nails to push the soaked strands back, twirling them into a loose bun at the back of his head. Inosuke was so close, he was sure he’d make it out of this without any weird noises but the subtle scratching against his skin was too much for any man. A low rumble emerged from his throat followed by a relieved sigh, “If I knew all it took to tame this wild boar was a few head scratches, I’d have started a long time ago” you giggled, sliding your palms down the length of his neck to rest on his shoulders, “all done”. His brows furrowed at the weight behind his head and the lack thereof on his back, “It’s a bun” you explained, “Yea, well I feel bald” “Don’t knock just yet, it helps keep your hair from your face when you’re fighting, plus I think you look hot with it” you tightened your hold on him for a second as a blush crept its way onto his skin.
“It's getting late, you can get out if you want, I’m going to wash up” you reached for the same bottle of shampoo, tipping it over to collect its contents, but before the suds could touch your skin, Inosuke’s grip caught your wrist. “I’ll do it” he stated firmly, “You don’t have to-” “I’ll do it” he repeated, already taking the bottle. A glop of shampoo slapped against his palm as he rushed to spread it between his two hands. You closed your eyes, ready to be serenaded by his sweet touch when you were quickly reminded of who you were dealing with here- the furthest thing from sweet. Water splashed haphazardly as Inosuke drilled into your skull, roughly kneading your scalp. “Ouch! Stop it! Is that what it felt like to you?! Any harder and I’ll be the bald one!” you yelled, moving away from his hands still hanging above the water. Inosuke shrunk a little, visibly upset as he looked to his right at nothing specific. Instantly regretting your reaction, you acted to fix the situation, “Here” you gently placed his thick fingers against your scalp once again this time placing yours above his, easing them into a gentle, rhythmic massage. “See,” you sighed, “not everything in life is a race.”
Inosuke looked at the way your face fell at the feel of his fingers gently working against you, he almost had to double-take to make sure it was his touch that was providing you so much pleasure- in fact, it sort of inflated his already bulging ego. Although he spent less time washing and rinsing your hair as you had hoped (you could have sat there for hours) the water was growing cooler and time was nipping at both your ankles, reminding you of the sleep you oh so needed. Washed and feeling refreshed, you reached for his shoulders, using them to glide through the water until your chest was pressed against his, becoming more familiar with the feel of his warmth against yours. Your arms dangled over his shoulders with your head buried in his neck, while his large palms found themselves holding your waist, “this was fun” you whispered into his skin. Inosuke grunted, exhaustion creeping up on him too. “Let go to bed” you yawned ready to detach yourself reluctantly from the strong man when you were suddenly carried above the water, exposed and shivering you wrapped your legs instinctively around him. “What are you doing?” you asked embarrassed and flushed red. A wide grin overtook his face as he held you tighter, “Figured you’d be too weak to walk after I almost put you to bed with my magical fingers” he replied as he trudged through the water and out the bath, two towels already waiting to dry your skin.
Later that night as you both lay covered in cotton robes and silk sheets surrounded by the gentle buzz of the others snoring around the room, together on one futon with eyelids as heavy as stones, something occurred to you. “Hey babe?” you whispered, getting a half grunt in response, “you never took that bun out, did you?” the arm that was holding you securely to his side flicked you gently, “hush women” he breathed. You chuckled low, snuggling closer into Inosuke's warmth, falling effortlessly into a peaceful sleep.
Thank you~
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I would love directors commentary for the scene in TBSA when Sid tells his parents about his relationship with Geno.
Sure, I’d be very happy to! This is not a scene that gets a lot of attention from commenters, so I haven’t had much opportunity to talk about it before. The fic is here; let’s go!
When Sid arrives at his parents’ house the next day, he can tell from the minute he walks in the door that his mom is expecting him to be stressed – the smell of corned beef, Sid’s childhood comfort food, is wafting through the house.
My mom made corned beef a lot when I was growing up. I don’t eat beef anymore and that is pretty much the only thing I miss.
His parents are both in the kitchen, which is as good a place as any to have this conversation, as far as Sid is concerned. He takes a deep breath and says, “I wanted to tell you… I’m seeing somebody. It’s serious.”
90% of important conversations in my fic happen in kitchens. It’s not on purpose – I just default to it. But it also serves a useful purpose in that there’s lots of stuff in kitchens for characters to do while they talk.
“That’s wonderful, Sid!” his mom enthuses from over by the stove. “Come here, let me give you a hug—”
“Let him finish what he’s got to say, Trina,” his dad interrupts good-naturedly. “Go on, Sid.”
So this is tricky. This is the only couple in the series where there’s a dominant male partner and a submissive female partner where we see them interact “on screen,” as it were. And the truth of the matter is, this kind of low-key power move that Troy uses here without even thinking about it—cutting off his partner and setting the rules of the conversation by giving orders—just kind of looks like unconscious sexism. I supply the “good-naturedly” in an attempt to soften it, and the orders are phrased in a way that’s intended not to set off “ordering his wife and kid around” alarm bells… but there’s only so much I can do. The power dynamics are what they are.
This is the harder part. “The person I’m seeing,” Sid begins, “it’s, um. Well, it’s… Geno. My teammate? Evgeni M—oh, this is stupid, you know who Geno is.”
“We do,” Sid’s dad says evenly.
Sid can’t read him at all. It’s nerve-wracking.
Sid’s dad is a nice guy and very supportive of him, but he also told Sid to avoid “distractions” in the form of dom teammates. Of course, he did that like… TEN YEARS AGO and has probably forgotten that he ever said it, but SID remembers and we know at this point that he really internalizes stuff like that.
His dad continues, narrowing his eyes, “You said it’s serious… kiddo, how long has this been going on?”
I’m gonna be honest: this is, in my opinion, one of the weakest scenes in the fic. It doesn’t make sense with Sid’s character for him to hide this really important thing from his parents for this long, but I just could not figure out a way to work it in earlier – the end of the previous season was SO overstuffed already. So this got bumped to the summer and Sid comes out of it looking like kind of a dick. Oh, well. Sometimes you’ve just got to put the brush down and post.
“Since a little bit after the Olympics,” Sid says, wincing pre-emptively… and yeah, there’s the betrayed look from his mom. “And I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you,” he goes on, directing it mostly at her, “but I wanted… I wanted to be really sure. And I am really sure. I actually… I’m gonna give him a ring. When the season starts. If he wants it.”
For a minute, there’s silence. Then his dad says, sounding worried, “Are you going to get in trouble with the team over this, kiddo? With management?”
After writing a toxic-protective dad for Sid in They Say Love Heals All Wounds, it was really nice—relaxing!--to write a positive-protective Sid’s-dad in this series.
“I don’t know,” Sid says honestly. “But my teammates are loyal to me, so if management tried to take the C, I don’t think they would stand for it. And it’s—if I have to fight to have this, I’ll fight. Geno is worth it.”
After a shorter pause, his dad asks, “Does he treat you good?”
Sid smiles. “Yes, Dad.”
“Does he make you do stuff you don’t like?” his dad presses. “Stuff that makes you feel bad?”
A constant struggle through this fic was how to describe bad domming in generalized terms. Like, there are people whose idea of a satisfying sexy time is being made to do stuff they don’t like! And that’s totally fine and good! But then what is Sid’s dad supposed to say here: “Does he make you do stuff you don’t like, unless you’re into that, in which case, I guess my question is, does he make you do stuff you don’t like to a degree or in circumstances that you’re not into?” Not unless I want my characters’ dialogue to sound like the tax code! So I generally defaulted to things like, “Did it make you feel bad?” but sometimes you have to beef that up a little and hope that readers understand what you’re getting at, like I did here.
“No, Dad. Never.”
“Does he talk about you disrespectfully in front of the team? Or anybody?”
“No, Dad!” Sid replies, half-laughing. “I told you, okay – he’s good to me.”
“Hmm.” His dad raises a skeptical eyebrow.
His mom coughs, delicately – indicating she has something to say without actually interrupting his dad. She’s always been really good at those kinds of submissive social graces.
Contrast that with the easy, casual way Sid’s dad interrupted her earlier in the scene. And also pause to imagine how much emotional and mental labor this requires on her part. Can you blame Sid for desperately wanting to peace out of this part of doing submission the way that you’re “supposed to”?
She asks Sid, “How does it—how do you feel, when he touches you?”
Poor Sid’s mom, she didn’t actually MEAN it in a sexy way, but of course that’s where his head goes.
Sid turns red. “I don’t think you two want to hear—”
“We do,” his dad says staunchly, rubbing his mom’s shoulder. “Even if it makes us a little uncomfortable, we want to know.”
And here, Sid’s dad co-signs and supports what his mom said – hopefully little stuff like this operates to indicate that the stuff he does elsewhere that kind of looks like sexism is actually something else, something both parties have agreed to and are comfortable with.
Sid thinks about the question. In the end, the sexy stuff doesn’t really make the top of the list. “I feel good,” he says softly, eyes unfocused. “I feel safe. Protected. I feel loved, and… and precious. I feel like… when I’m with Geno I feel safe to be myself. Like I don’t have to pretend, or hide anything about myself.”
This is EXACTLY what Sid’s parents wanted to hear. They know that he’s a special dude – that most doms would look at him and see the ways he doesn’t measure up to the stereotypical “ideal” sub. So this is why Sid’s mom asks the question: she wants to know if Geno makes Sid feel like he’s lacking, or if he makes Sid feel like he’s loved just the way he is. And fortunately, it’s the latter.
Sid hears a sniffle, and looks up. “Dad, are you…?”
“Damn allergies,” his dad says gruffly, reaching for a Kleenex.
This is cliché, I know. But it’s so cute! I couldn’t help myself.
Allergies, sure. Sid can’t help smiling. His mom catches the expression on his face and winks.
Another little gesture that shows that, yes, she defers to his dad in a lot of ways – but she’s not afraid of him and she doesn’t treat him like a god. She can have a little fun at his expense.
After blowing his nose, Sid’s dad says, “I’m happy for you, kiddo. I’m—so damn happy for you.” Then he clears his throat. “And if he stops treating you good, I’ll kick his ass.”
“Dad!” But Sid smiles again.
There’s one more thing he has to say before the conversation is over, though. “I’m, uh, not going to wear a collar,” he warns, shifting back and forth on his feet. “Geno’s okay with it. It’s still a serious relationship, I’m just… not going to wear a thing on my neck. I don’t want to.”
Both of his parents take a while to chew on that one – Sid’s mom rests her fingertips on her own collar, almost nervously, and Sid’s dad stares at it while he thinks. But eventually, his dad says, “Well, Sid, I can’t say that doesn’t sound a little weird to me… But if you and Geno—if that’s how the two of you want it, then I can’t see how it’s anybody else’s business.”
One of my beta readers told me that my original draft leaned too much toward telling the reader how important collars were in this society without showing it, and they were right, so I went through and looked for places I could add some “showing.” This was one of them.
His mom nods, adding a soft, “Yes.”
“Thank you,” Sid says, surprised but pleased at their easy acceptance.
LOL kid, they thought you were going to die alone, they’re not going to quibble about the collar thing.
That night, he texts Geno, I told my parents about us. They were really happy for me.
He adds, after a second, They don’t think you got hit on the head.
He’s not expecting an answer right away—it’s the wee hours of the morning in Moscow—but a few minutes later, he gets a bunch of happy parentheses and so funny sid. A second later, Geno follows up with, proud, and a bunch more eyeless smilies.
Thank you, Sid replies, enjoying the burst of warmth that goes off under his breastbone every time Geno says he’s proud of Sid. He snuggles in under his covers and texts, Now go to sleep, it’s super late there!
Sid gives orders to Geno on a regular basis. Big contrast to his parents’ relationship.
Geno responds right away.
my sid take so good care of me so cute
And instead of getting mad, Geno thinks it’s adorbs. He tells Ovechkin, over this same summer, that Sid takes care of him, and that he likes it. I don’t think he gets the kind of intense satisfaction out of being taken care of that Sid does, but he loves how sweet Sid is.
sleep now yes
dream about you ))))))
“I’ll dream about you, too,” Sid murmurs, smiling as his eyes drift shut.
As I mentioned above, I think of this scene as pretty weak, but I’m actually really happy with how this coda section turned out – I think Geno’s text messages are very cute, if I do say so myself.
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~ 𝓒𝓻𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 ~
Chaotic parents
🦇Lilia Vanrouge x fem!reader, WORD COUNT : : 2K
Description- Lilia's wife comes for a visit but leaves a trail of destruction behind.
Placed under the cut for length!
It was yet another quiet day at the dormitory founded on the elegance of the fairy of thorns. The morning was greeted by Sebek and Silver’s bickering about whose training routine was better while Silver occasionally dozed off leaving Sebek to jerk him awake every single time with his thunderous voice. The dorm leader of Diasomania, Malleus, stared out of the window in the common room, finding the outside world much more interesting than the leather stiff book he had read a countless number of times or the ongoing talk across the room.
Yes, it was indeed another normal, boring day for the residents of Diasomania. Well, far too normal.
The one-sided quarrel between Sebek and Silver ended abruptly when the sound of an explosion came from the kitchens (did they even have that?), breaking the second-year’s slumber instantly as he looked around quizzically. “WHAT WAS THAT?!?!” Sebek thundered, the obvious surprise plastered on his face as he faced Silver. The second-year shrugged his shoulders as a response as he removed Sebek’s hand on his dorm uniform. “Maybe the old man is in the kitchen again,” Silver said, staring at the hallway to the kitchen worryingly.
Silver knew how experimental his father was in the field of culinary arts. The variety of weird, foul-smelling dishes he had tasted (and dreaded) as a little child was a prime example of it. As the knight had feared, not soon after, Lilia stepped into the common room, his clothes a little burnt, face covered in soot, with a burnt dish in his hands. “Oh my, this stew took longer than I had anticipated!” He said as he dried the non-existent sweat off his brow. Sebek retracted the moment the blasted dish’s smell reached his nose. That dish could barely be categorized as food, let alone be eaten under normal circumstances. Was the dressing covered in slime and worms?
“I-I see . . . it’s an excellent looking dish, Lord Lilia!” Sebek complimented, but his reaction betrayed his words greatly. “May I ask which stew is it?”
‘Better not ask if you don’t want to be the first victim Sebek,’ Silver thought but refrained from speaking it out loud. Sebek was always too fond of his seniors. The old fae, on the other hand, seemed giddy and unusually excited to tell Sebek about his extra special dish. “Well, it’s my specialty dish which I only make on the rarest of occasions, and mind you it’s really hard to persuade me to make this dish even if you ask a million times,” Lilia giggled while continuously shoving the otherworldly stew at Poor Sebek’s face.
Who would be in their right mind to actually persuade Lilia Vanrouge, the most horrible cook humanity has ever seen?
Lilia’s body shivered from giggling as Sebek guessed various stew names he had known. In defeat, Lilia finally disclosed the name, “It’s my legendary ‘slimy beef casserole’!!”
Silver almost choked at the name of the dish alone when he thought he was about to doze off again, finding it hard to breathe as he stared at Lilia as if he had grown another head.
Malleus, from his window, had his ears perked up as well at the unusual excitement. “Beef-Tomato stew?” Malleus questioned, “Don’t you usually make it for-”
POOF!
Before he could finish a puff of green smoke encircled the room completely. Silver’s dread turned horrendous as his aurora eyes traveled up to see the person coming out of the clearing green fog.
Those (e/c) eyes, that hair tied in a ponytail, and the familiar scent of raspberries. Hauling the heavy travel bag in her hand, the apparently young-looking girl smiled brightly and exclaimed brightly, “Family reunion!!” tackling Lilia to the ground, eliciting a chuckle from the latter. All the while Silver pinched the bridge of his nose in worry.
Indeed, it was going to be a long day.
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“All I had heard that it was a famous school for kids with magic, but I didn’t know that its campus was this big!!!” His mother chirped happily, skirting around here and there like a newborn baby bird. It had taken everything for Silver to not sink and die. To actually think that his own mother would show up at the school where he and his father were studying, and in summer clothes on top of that. That tank top concealed under a modest button-up shirt wasn’t doing her any favor. He had to persuade his stubborn mother to wear something modest enough to not get any weird glances.
Aside from Silver’s anxiety and protectiveness towards his mother, Lilia was extremely ecstatic.
“My sweet, you hadn’t mentioned that you had taken a trip to the southern islands in your recent letters,” Lilia said, strolling side by side with his beloved, arms linked and fingers intertwined. “Judging by your complexion you sure had a great time!”
(Name) giggled, “Of course, unlike you who would turn into a mummy just after an hour under the sun, I am always up for a swim on a hot summer beach and getting a tan!” She rolled up her sleeves and showed her changed skin color with pride, a smirk adorning her adorable visage.
Silver sheepishly scratched his head, “So, what made you come for a visit mom?” It’s not like he wasn’t happy, of course, no child could ever be sad to see their mother after a long time, but the question was- why now?
(Name) shuddered at the question, as if it was something too painful to talk about. Nonetheless, she shared her part of the story. “Staying in the Valley of thorns with nothing to do but tric⸺ I mean, play with neighbors was getting tooooo boring.” She said, twirling around in her summer dress, “That was when Sebek’s mum suggested me to go on a trip like old times! Gosh, I had missed the sights! But, traveling with my sugar daddy was much more fun, and I kind of started to miss⸺”
Silver’s eyes widened like two satellite dishes as he subconsciously cut of his mother, “Sugar what?”
He heard his father laugh heartily, smacking his arm slightly as if it was normal, “I told her to call me that, cool right?” Lilia asked, his lips occasionally curving upwards. Silver didn’t know what to do in this awkward situation. It was getting hard to keep a poker face when his cheeks were getting redder by the goddamn second. Unlike him, Malleus and Sebek were not even a little fazed by this.
“Nowadays people call their partners with such flowery nicknames,” (name) curiously reminiscence the one time she had heard someone calling their lovers in an odd fashion while at the beach. “Uh! Time flies by.”
Lilia chuckled at his beloved’s innocence, “Sweetheart, it’s good and all that you are learning new things and accepting the changing times, but” he gestured to Silver’s tomato face amusingly. “Other students will notice us, look, even our son is getting all embarrassed even after hearing our romantic exchanges a million times.”
Sebek, initially confused about what the great seven was happening, seeing his fellow guard show vulnerability, screamed at full-throttle, “SILVER!! Be ashamed of yourself!! It’s unbecoming of Young Master’s escort to show his blushing face in public!!!!”
Silver held the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time. “No one hadn’t even noticed until you brought it up for everyone to hear.” He pointed out to the two first-year students who were curiously eyeing the Diasomania group, only to scramble away laughing when Silver had noticed them.
Pushing all the hue and cry away, the prince of thorns conversed with Mrs. Vanrouge, his eyes glimmering with child-like fondness. “How has everything been in the Valley of thorns, (name)? Well, I presume?” His questions were cute just like his expressions!
The female couldn’t help but smile giddily, “My Prince, it hasn’t been long since your last visit to the land. What more could change in a few months’ time?”
The old fae nudged the prince’s arm a little. “You know Malleus, sweet. Always insatiably curious, this young lad,” Lilia added, earning a glare from the dorm leader. Before he could retort and start one of his ‘I’m not a child’ monologues, (name) asked– “Where are Silver and Sebek?” The other two fairies looked behind them and found the two of them vanished from sight.
“They must have stopped because of their argument again, those two.”
“I’ll go look for them if you’d like,” Malleus offered, but the old man shook it off. “Knowing those two, it’s better if I come too, just in case Sebek takes it to arms and marches on to war,” Lilia said. “(name), could you please wait a minute over here?”
As if she was a child who needed parental consent, (name) pouted at the irritating behavior of her husband only to earn a million mandol smile in return. The promise of getting back in less than a minute had triggered a few options in the female’s mind, none of them were in goodwill. Would she actually be Mrs. Vanrouge if not as much of a trickster as her husband?
A devilish smirk appeared as soon as the duo’s backs disappeared from her sight. Cracking the knuckles of her hands, she gazed around the vacant vicinity.
“Sooooooooo, what to do next?”
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The half-silent walk towards the rendezvous point was broken when Lilia had opened up his mouth to speak- “It’s good that the two of you didn’t wander off too much, it would’ve been far too much troubling to search the entire school.”
“I DEEPLY APOLOGISE LORD LILIA!!” Sebek pleaded, or more like screamed for mercy, “If Silver hadn’t fallen asleep, we would’ve come back sooner.”
“And we wouldn’t have become lost,” Silver added apologetically. “It’s alright, it was all in goodwill and we found you in time before dinner,” Malleus reassured. Sebek seemed to calm down at his lord’s words but nonetheless continued to rant and reprimand himself for being an incompetent vassal and what not.
But it stopped the moment all of them found (name) to be missing. “Didn’t we leave (name) here?” Malleus asked, confused as to where she could’ve gone. “My little honey drop likes to play hide and seek a lot, surely she mustn’t have gone too far!” Lilia reasoned but internally dreaded inside. Something of a horrible memory was coming back to him but he couldn’t place his finger on it . . . .
“Father,” Silvers said, serious, “We need to find Mom before she gets herself into trouble.”
“Yes, Silver is absolutely correct, or have you forgotten what happened during the Queen’s birthday?” Lilia’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shaped as the realization dawned over him. “Right! How could I forget?” (name) had planted a party bomb inside the cake that it exploded and its contents spilled everywhere. It wasn’t that big of a prank but the look the Queen had thrown afterward spoke volumes.
“In that case, the sooner we find her, the better it will be.” At that, the group again moves out to search, the expectancy to loads of trouble ahead humming in their minds.
On the other side, many weird occurrences happened at NRC that day. Students found the cafeteria benches levitating in the air with Rosehearts screaming ‘OFF WITH YOUR HEAD’ at the anonymous person who had hanged him from the ceiling. The Lion of Savannah was in a sour mood all day after it took him 2 hours to remove all the girlish accessories which had magically adorned his hair and chased Ruggie to have the evidence removed from existence. The ever-charismatic Vil Schoenheit seemed to have wanted to pop a blood vessel in his body after finding that someone had let Heartslaybul’s Flamingos loose in the dormitory. The clean-up in itself was a big task, the aftermath even more terrible.
All the while (Name) treated herself to some roasted marshmallows (courtesy of the cafeteria ghosts who mistook her for a child). The female never quite understood why her husband detested such a delectable snack. At the thought of Lilia, she wondered if he was looking for her while she was creating chaos in the school. She giggled at the illustration of his panicked face came to her mind.
Leaving the train of thoughts, she turned her focus back on chomping down the white snack. “Oh, a child has wandered into the campus?” a suspicious voice came from behind her, a shadow looming over her and blocking the sunlight. (Name) immediately turned to see a man with a bird mask glowering from above. The female wanted to scoff at the impudence of the idiot in front of her. Child? She was even older than the ancestry line of the top hat he was wearing. But, still feeling a little devilish, she decided to go with the flow. The headmaster crouched down in front of her, “Are you lost?”
“KIDNAPPER!!!!!!!!” The scream was so hard that it had rendered his hearing senses, which was a first for him given that he had already heard a different variety of screams. “My, dear child you have a loud voice!” Crowley held his head, still trying to shake off the effect, “and I’m not a kidnapper. I may appear suspicious but I’m a very generous person and the headmaster of this school!”
Even more, fun to trick you then.
“Oh really! Then prove it, Mister Crow!” she said faux excitedly.
Crowley cleared his throat, finding the nickname to be cute, “Alright, Alright! How about some ice cream and a little tour of the school?” The female’s mouth immediately watered at the word ‘ice cream’. She nodded vigorously in approval. Suddenly, she felt glad that she came to visit. Having a delicious treat on top of that a good laugh was like icing on a cake. Maybe she could demand a cake too.
“Headmaster Crowley!! Right on time!”
Oh damn.
She dreaded what was about to come next. The sight of her beloved husband with a teasing smile on his face poured water all over her future plans! Goodbye ice-cream.
“Everything has been upside down today . . . . oh, who’s this?” curse his impeccable question ‘who’s this?’
“This is a child I found roaming the gardens,” Crowley explained. “And by what do you specifically mean by ‘upside down’, Vanrouge?”
“You’re requested in the cafeteria, there you might get what you need, for the time being, I can look over after the child,” The damned fae knew what he was doing and was enjoying every bit of it! He smiled, showing more teeth than required, his magenta orbs glowing, “We will have lots of fun, won’t we little one?” It sent shivers down her spine and marked as the queue that she had overstayed her visit and best be off now.
With a puff of smoke, she vanished into sight, leaving the headmaster confused as the green air cleared. “What just happened Vanrouge?”
Lilia smiled peacefully, exhaling a sigh of relief, and said, “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”
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“Father, you’re going to mail the stew?”
“Yes! She came for a visit but forgot her favorite dish. I hope that the Thorn delivery service can handle the stew, the worms bite a lot.”
#twst imagines#cruel to be kind#lilia vanrouge#disney#malleus draconia#sebek zigvolt#twisted wonderland#silver#diasomania#twst lilia
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