#i do have some pasta in the fridge but i don't wanna be that person who goes to cook smth in the kitchen at 2am 😔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waddingham · 2 months

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oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision.

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice.

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it.

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting.

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring.

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder.

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet.

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea.

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday.

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again?

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise!

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter.

It's well, well worth the extra step.

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen.

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.”

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.”

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles.

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters.

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food.

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it.

“Yeah? That one a winner?”

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles.

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns.

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls.

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?”

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him.

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds.

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated.

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit.

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin.

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips.

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners.

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile.

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind.

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen.

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself.

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him.

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite.

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening.

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.”

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips.

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me...#a gift for you anon. just cause 💌#also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles

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cottagecheese1 · 1 year

Text

Knocking on the devils door

Summary: When you come back from college for summer break, the last thing you expected was to have a stepdad.

Paring - dark stepdad robert pronge x reader

Warnings - not really smut but close enough, robert is a weirdo

College was fun. Well, except juggling classes and doing work wasn't all that fun, but other than that, you enjoyed it. Before you left home, you and your mom got into this huge argument about how you shouldn't go to college and just stay in your hometown and find a rich husband to take care of you, so you can become a housewife like her.

You have always been an independent person, but your mom never really understood that. Every time you would bring up getting a job or going to college, she would refuse, and ask you why you wouldn't just get a husband.

Then again, you do keep in mind that she is your mother and always has been, so you hoped that if you put this little hardship behind you, your mom would understand and also do the same.

You pulled into the driveway and took a quick gander at your childhood home. Nothing has changed even before you left, but what you did notice was an ice cream truck parked right in front of you. How strange.

As soon as you get out of your car, you smooth your shirt out. Taking in a deep breath, and walking up to the front door, knocking with your left hand while you hold your bag in the other. After waiting for a good two minutes, you raised your hand to knock once again until a tall man with long hair and a scruffy mustache answered the door.

"Listen, kid, I don't wanna buy any girl scout cookies"

He had a white T shirt on with glasses, as much as you would hate to admit it. He was a handsome man. The feeling of your tongue being caught in the back of your own throat wasn't really the most convenient.

"Um, no, sir, I'm looking for my mom? M/n?"

He looked me up and down, but before he could answer again, a high-pitched voice that was highly recognizable came quickly to the front door.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm so glad you're here! You should have called before you came! I missed you so much, sweetheart please come inside!"

To say that you were surprised was an understatement. Being welcomed into open arms by your mother after what happened really surprised you. After you came inside, and looked around at the same pictures, same radio, same dusty bookshelf that has been here since your childhood, you quickly realized there was nothing visibly different. Nothing special.

When your mother led you inside, the tall man behind you followed, "Sit down, I was just making spaghetti for tonight!" Your mother spoke joyfully. You sat quietly, waiting for someone to make conversation so you wouldn't have to.

"So, I see you met Robert, don’t worry sweetheart he may look a little intimidating, but he's not all that bad, " your mom said as she gave a heartfelt giggle. You gave a small smile and turned to look at him, you didn’t get to observe his features until now, you swear he could feel your gaze burning in the back off his head because he shifted his head around and made eye contact with you. His icy blue eyes, and scruffy facial hair made you feel some sort of way, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it..almost a little creeped out. Pulling you out of your train of thoughts was your mother, she gave a frustrated sigh, "Dammit! I forgot the pasta sauce, I'll have to run down to the store... you two don't go anywhere, and I'll be right back".

You giggled and gave a quick ‘ok’ while she grabbed her purse and walked through the front door. After your mom left, it was extremely awkward when you just sat there silently while Robert seductively eyed you up and down.

"So, you go to college?"

Giving him a quick nod, you start to speak. "Yea, sports medicine...did you marry my mom?"

He chuckled and made his way over to the fridge to grab a beer, "Yeah, so I guess that makes me your daddy, right?" He said as he took a swing of the bitter liquid. Feeling your cheeks go red, you gave an awkward laugh.

“Um, yeah I guess so, if that’s the way you think of it.” Robert cracked his beer open, and walked over to the seat beside you to sit down. Fiddling with your fingers nervously, trying to come up with a question or some kind of excuse to make this situation less awkward.

Robert reached over, and tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ear softly, “Do I make you nervous angel?” You gave a embarrassed smile, and attempted to make some space between him and you, because for some reason it felt like he was to close to you. To comfortable for just meeting you the first time.

“Not at all, why would you say that?” He then managed to get closer to you right after you said that, giving you a unsatisfied hum, he grabbed your chin softly while making you look at him, “Because you are. You don’t need to lie to your daddy angel” After he said that you pushed his hand off your face with a wide eyed look while getting up out of your seat, “Are you fucking crazy? I’m going to tell my mom.” He laughed getting up and striding over to you, never until now have you realized how much bigger he was then you, probably a lot stronger also.

Pushing you up against the kitchen wall, he grabbed your face roughly. “Your mother would never believe you, and even if she did it’s either you or me. After that little disagreement you two had about not settling down and getting a husband, not to mention you also not wanting to stay in this shit hole of a town made your mother really upset. I’ve stayed with that hag for four years, and you wouldn’t wanna ruin your relationship with her even more would you angel?”

That was your breaking point. You broke out in sobs while burying your face in Roberts shirt, “Aw, angel face..daddy didn’t mean to make you cry, let me see that pretty face sweetheart.” You looked up at him with defeat, “what do you want from me..” Robert smiled and wiped the falling tears from your cheeks, “right now I want you to be my good girl, and to look me in my eyes when I fuck you with my fat cock. I want you to beg for daddy’s dick angel.” You looked up at him with wide eyes, “no..”

All the somewhat warmth and softness that might’ve been in him disappeared at that moment, “So you want your mother to think your a whore and tried to force yourself on me? Hm?” You froze, thinking of all the things your mother has done for you, and then her going to think for a minute you tried to have sex with this man. Robert exhaled while putting his head on your forehead, “How about I give you twenty spanks for being a brat, and another ten because you’re not being a good girl, then we can start over and you can actually start being my good girl. How bout it angel?”

You looked at him angrily, “NO.” Robert raised his hand, giving you a warning smack on your cheek. “If you say no again you’ll be choking on my dick to.” There was a pregnant pause in the air for a moment before he spoke again, “if your mother gets home before we get started, it will be much much worse tonight.” With that you sighed and gave a quiet ‘alright’.

Kissing your forehead softly before following with a ‘good girl’. Pulling you in the living room, and sitting on the couch before tugging you over his lap.

Pulling your pants down, leaving you in your panties for a moment, “so pretty angel, you wear these panties for anyone else, hm?” Giving him a soft ‘no’ he gave a satisfied hum, tugging your panties down your ankles, and giving your ass a teasing smack. “Count.”

_______________________________________________

Smack after smack went down painfully on your ass, at this point you were sobbing while counting, “twenty-five..” you just wanted it to be over, “twenty-seven..” your ass is bright red and hurts like shit, “your doing so good for daddy angel, just three more.” You gave him a whine, “twenty-nine..” you think the last one hurt the most because somehow you started crying even harder, “t-thirty…” Robert rubbed your ass soothingly, and put you on his lap. All you could do was hug him, and being in such a vulnerable state, you didn’t really care that you were clinging onto him with such urgency, “Aw, daddy’s sorry angel but you had to learn one way or another didn’t you sweet pea?” All you did was whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you can’t describe it, but he smelled good, “daddy..”

Robert smiled finally getting you wrapped around his finger, “did you learn your lesson?” With a burning red ass and no more fight in your body all you could do was nod your head yes.

Robert leaned down to grab your pants, accepting your answer as it is, “we need to get you cleaned up angel, we don’t need your mom finding you in such a humiliating mess honey..would hate to explain this to her wouldn’t you?” Nodding your head, and letting him wrap his arms around you. Maybe this isn’t to bad.

A/n: This isn’t usually like any of my other fic’s but I enjoyed writing it. I know it’s been a minute but I’m trying to go through my drafts at the moment!

#x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanon #robert pronge x you #robert pronge x reader #Robert pronge #the iceman #Mr Freezy x reader #dark fic #dark Robert pronge x reader #chris evans drabble #chris evans character masterlist #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters

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agentsoftie · 4 years

Text

stitches and ditches

summary: y/n and spencer get in a fight. due to the fight y/n goes to the hospital where she gets taken. spencer has to find her before it’s to late

a/n: plot holes. plot holes everywhere. so i’m sorry for that, super sorry. also like i don’t really know how to write fight scene and stuff ig so sorry if it sucks. and i skipped like 3 classes for this, so don’t let it flop

warnings: fight, angry spencer, torture, a case, violent spencer (idrk what to call it) and whole lotta angst. i happy ending though! kinda, idrk

word count & pairing: spencer x (fem) reader & 4.1k

remember to like and reblog!!

It all started the day he came home from work. This was one of the longest trips he’d been on so you decided to make him his favorite. Pumpkin Pie. And god knows how hard it is to make pie, but you did it anyways, for him. It wasn't too late when he got home but It wasn't too early either. More like the time right after dinner and just before dessert. You had just got the pie out of the oven when you heard the door open and someone walk in.

“Spencer! Finally you’re home! How are you!” You said while he put his bag away. He didn't turn to look at you yet which was kinda weird since the first thing he does when he gets home is kiss you right on the lips. “Fine,” He mumbled while sitting down at the table still not looking at you. “Spencer, come on what’s wrong?” You asked while grabbing his hands, but he immediately retracted. Which made sense because of who he was, but you’re not gonna admit that it didn't hurt. “Nothing Y/N.”

You knew that something was wrong, and it didn't take a profiler to see that. Everything about him was just off. “Come on, it's me. You can tell me anything.”

“Y/N.” Spencer said in a deep tone. You’d never heard him like this or seen in that sense. He was always happy to see you, to be with you. And were with his too. “Spencer no, come on. I can see that you’re clearly not fine. So come on, open up.”

“Y/N I said I’m fine!” You were appalled. He had never raised his voice at you, but it was bound to happen one day, you just. You just were shocked. “Spencer,” You said in a low voice completely contradicting his loud yell. “What!”

“Spencer calm down!” You say yelling at him. Although you realized that yelling at someone to calm down probably wasn't the best way to do it.

“No Y/N, you need to just stop and shut up!” Shut up. That’s the first time he’s ever told you to shut up. Infact, you think it's the first time he’s ever told anyone to shut up.

“Spencer just talk to me! It’s not that fucking hard!”

“No Y/N it is. It's tremendously hard and you just wouldn't understand.”

“Just tell me. And I'll see if I understand. But don't just gatekeep your emotions and feelings.”

“Y/N I said no! Why cant you listen to simple fucking directions! It’s not that fucking hard!” Each and every time he yelled at you, it's like your heart physically broke. And you could feel it breaking. But how do you tell him to stop? All you wanted was to know how he feels. Was that really so hard?

“Spencer why the hell are you acting like this! I understand that your job is hard but that doesn't mean that you can pour all your anger out on me! And if you are gonna do that, you can at least do the kind thing and share how you feel! And what's wrong! I mean, is that really so much to ask!”

“Oh really, that's how you wanna play this! You think this is just a little game don’t you!”

“Game Spencer! You think I play this as a game! Well this game is my life!” You were drop dead angered at this point. “What in the world gives you the right to act like this! Please, explain!” All he does is scoff at you. “I'm not joking Spencer! Why the hell are you acting like this! You've changed!”

“Oh I’ve changed! Y/N you've changed! You're always trying to kiss up my ass! I mean jesus! All you want is money! Like god!”

“Oh I want money! Spencer! I don't need your pathetic money! It may not have dawned on you since you couldn't bother to care, but I make a good amount of money. Yeah, you’re not the only one who paid for this place. So stop acting like you are.”

“Oh wow! Haha, you sick son of a,” He stopped immediately after realizing what exactly he was saying.

“Say it Spencer! Finish the goddamn sentence!”

“Y/N, you know I wont.” He says in a shift of tone. Still equally as affecting though.

“Why? Huh? You've already said so much, just wrap it up with a nice little red bow on top!”

“Y/N, stop,” He said, his tone getting more and more demeaning by the second.

“Do it Spencer! Do it!”

“Goddamn it Y/N I said stop!!” He yelled before throwing a glass at the wall behind you. You both immediately shut up, as trying to process what just had happened. Did he actually just try to hurt you? No, Spencer would never do that. Would he? You touched the back of your head and felt blood on your ear. You looked down at the blood and Spencer walked towards you but all you did was pull back from his touch.

“Don’t,” You mutter in fright. Putting your hands up against his chest, but not touching. His eyes looked at you as if they were trying to say something but just couldn't. You grabbed your purse, keys, phone, a coat, and slipped into some shoes. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To the clinic or hospital or whichevers open right now. To get this checked out and stitched up.”

“Y/N, come on just stay here. I can stitch it up. I can do everything. Just dont leave. Im sorry, okay. I- I don't know why I did that. I promise I didn't mean too.” He begs and pleads but you just can't say with him tonight. No, not tonight. Tonight was too bad, tonight was a dent that was not going to be fixed.

“I just can't, Spencer. Okay, not tonight. There’s some pasta in the fridge, and I love you… I guess.” And with that you got in your car and left leaving Spencer to just sit in his own tears. He just sat at the table thinking of everything he did wrong. Everything that went wrong. And the worst part is that absolutely nothing wrong or bad happened at work today. He was just exhausted, that's all. And instead of telling his girlfriend, he started a fight. And he knew that you were in the right, for everything.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Dr. Michael Gray. And it looks like something happened to your ear.” He says while standing at the door.

“Oh hi! Haha. And um… I thought that nurses were supposed to, you know, stitch up stitches.”

“Oh yeah, well they are. But you’re just so gorgeous I pass up the offer.”

“Oh, haha,” You say, not knowing how to feel. Although there was one thing you knew, and that was that this was uncomfortable as hell. “Well, I mean I do have a boyfriend.” You said just so he wouldn't try to make any moves.

“Oh well hey! Do you have any siblings or friends? I'm fine with absolutely anyone and everyone.” He says while disinfecting your ear and pulling the glass out.

“You’re Pan?” You ask to distract yourself from the pain.

“Yeah. You’re not gonna request another doctor now right?” He asks while carefully taking out the glass and putting it on a white napkin in front of you. That was a big piece.

“No, of course not!” You say in offence. “How could you ever think that.”

“It happens a lot with people. Especially the pretty ones. They automatically get turned off when I tell them I like everyone. I don't care about your gender, just your personality and how you treat me.”

“Oh well I would never. And it sucks that-that happens.”

“Yeah. Okay, so here comes the fun part. Hey, how did you even get these stitches? Or, why do you need them? Like how did you get to this point?” He says while slowly stitching up your ear.

“Ha, I get it. You’re just fine. And all of this is due to my boyfriend.” You say in pain.

“Wait,” He stops doing what he’s doing and just stands there. “Your boyfriend did this?”

“Yes. And before you say anything else, I am not in an abusive relationship. Okay, he just had a bad day and I guess I made it even worse. And trust me, he didn't mean to do it.” You say as he finishes stitching up your ear.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” He asks while pouring out a liquid into a small cup.

“No.”

“Then, come stay with me. At my place. And here drink this, it’ll help with the pain. A lot.”

He says while giving you a small cup filled with what looked like to be a crushed up powder poorly mixed in with water. Or whatever that the liquid was.

“Oh no. We just met.” You spoke before drinking it.

“You got anywhere better to stay? Plus my shift ends in 5 so it would be the most practical decision.”

You knew that it was wrong. After everything that Spencer had told you. But for some reason you still went. Even though you knew you should have gone back home to Spencer. And god knows what he was doing right now. But you couldn't just let your pride fall and go home. That would be pathetic. “You know what, okay! I mean what the hell! You seem nice and I’m not in the mood to face him again. Or at least for now.”

“Sweet!”

“Just one question… are you gonna kill me?” It was a stupid question to ask, you know. But after everything that Spencer and his family have been through. And with what happened to haley, you just couldn't help but to ask.

“No Y/N, I’m not gonna kill you. Now come on, let me get logged out and let's leave this place. Oh and Y/N, you can call me Michael.” He says while taking off his lab coat.

“Okay Michael.”

He brought you into his car and the drive to his place felt like hours. Although you really couldn't remember most of it since you passed out a quarter way through. The last thing you do remember is him putting his hand on your thigh and looking over at you with a smirk.

It had been 3 days. 3 days since you left to get your ear stitched up. 3 days since Spencer had last seen you. Since you had seen him. Or any of your friends. 3 days since you left your life. In those 3 days, Spencer completely lost himself. All of the books were on the floor. The bed was an absolute mess. And the kitchen was left just as it was the night it happened. He, himself, was a mess. His hair had not been brushed. He was still wearing the same clothes. And he’d been surviving on coffee and granola bars.

“Guys, we got a new case, come on.” Penelope chimes as they all do paper work. Spencer can’t help but look at his phone every 2 minutes just waiting for a text or call or any sign of life and/or love.

“What’s wrong pretty boy?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, you've been acting tense lately.” JJ adds.

“Nothing, It’s just Y/N,” He gruffs.

“Do I smell relationship problems,” Derek says jokingly.

“Derek!” JJ scoffs. “What's wrong Spence?”

“Nothing I just… Look, something happened, and now she’s not answering any of my text and calls, and I'm starting to get worried. That's really all there is.”

“Well what happened exactly? To you know, make her leave I guess.” JJ asks.

“Um, we had an argument. A pretty bad one. I came home after the case. The Checkersfeild one. And um, I was just tired. And instead of telling her that, I got super mad and said some things that I regret. And also did a thing I regret. A lot. And I would explain everything to her if she answered whenever I called or texted but she didn't.”

“How bad was the argument?” She asks again.

“Pretty bad. It was our first, but it was really bad. Just words coming and pouring out.”

“Spencer, how long have you and Y/N been dating?” Derek asks in shock at the fact that he just said ‘first argument’.

“2 and half years now.”

“And you two have never fought? What's this secret that you're keeping from me.”

“Well you know, we had our mutual disagreements. And sometimes we argued a little but it was small and it lasted for like an hour. And right after we would apologize and everything would be okay. It would all be fine.” Spencer said, his voice got longer and slower as the words went on.

“Wow, um… Spencer. You really love her, don't you.” Derek asked.

“Yeah. I really do, don't I.” Spencer says while walking into the briefing room.

As everyone sat down Derek couldn’t help but to keep looking at him. He knew that Spencer was hiding something, he just didn't know what. Or how to figure it out.

“Okay everyone this is Isabella Stines. The latest victim of our new unsub. Police are calling him The Ditcher. Since, as you can see, they leave the body in ditches after what looks like hours and hours of tourture. 5 other people were found too. First was Mindy Kindle, then Jake Johnson. Next, Rosé Hinnings, then we have Jennifer Gordon. And last, and hopefully least, Kross Noing. The ‘K’ is silent.” Penelope says while everyone looks down at the picture of the crime scenes and blood smeared across the screen.

“Do they have anything in common?” Spencer asks just before his phone starts ringing. He immediately picks it up even though the rule that Hotch made up states that you can't answer phones when you’re in the briefing room getting briefed for a new case. “Y/N.” Spencer asks, not knowing who this was since he didn't have enough time to look at the caller ID. “No, this is Sharron Richard, her boss. She hasn't shown up to work for these past days and we’re getting worried. She has a case coming up and this is a big one for her. We’ve been trying to contact her, but she’s not answering. So we called you since she left you as her backup or whatever you call it. So, have you seen or heard from her?” Sharron asks over the phone.

“Um no I- I haven't.” Spencer mutters through the phone so no one except Sharron could hear it. Although that failed miserably.

“Oh, okay. Well if you hear from her, or see her anytime soon. Please tell her to contact us.” And with that the phone was hung up.

“Pretty boy what was that?” Derek asks.

“Uh, nothing. Just a call from Y/N’s work. Apparently she’s been missing. Although you already knew that so…” Spencer said while looking down at his phone more time, then putting it away. Everyone just gave him this weird look of dissatisfaction.

“Okay anyway, yes there are some similarities. And luckily, all of these are taking place here so you guys won't be flying out anywhere! Or wait, isn't that a bad thing?” Penelope exclaims.

“Garcia,” Hotch says in his natural stearn and damning voice.

“Sorry boss. Anyways, The ME found traces of propofol and thiopental in each of their systems. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically a drug that doctors use to get patients into a coma before surgeries and/or if it's needed medically.”

“So only doctors would have access to it?” Emily asks.

“Over here in Virginia, yes. There are no stores that sell it here due to too many people ODing.” Spencer answers. “Garcia, did the ME find any signs of sexual assault?”

“No they did not. Looks like it was just tourture.”

“Hey Garcia, did they have anything else in common?” Emily asks.

“Yeah check this out. Each of the victims have a medical visit to “The Charleston Hospital” the night before dying. Or getting captured at least. And, it looks like each of them came in after what looked like an action of abuse. It was hard to spot but luckily the bill got it.”

“Okay, thank you Garcia. JJ, Prentiss, come with me. We’re going to the crime scene. Rossi, you go to the ME. Morgan and Reid stay here and try to find some things and connections. And Garcia, you just do what you do best.” Hotch says while getting up.

Everyone was gone from the briefing room except for Garcia who was taking down some files, and Spencer, who was looking at the file. But one part in particular. Could it have happened. No, it couldnr have. Could it?

“Hey Garcia?” He asked.

“Yes sugar,”

“Can I get something?”

“Why of course, what is it that you need?”

“Um, I need records and security tapes.”

“Come with me my sweet child.” She says while walking out the door and into her office, or as she likes to call it, batcave.

“Okay here are the records for-” She got cut off by a frantic Spencer.

“No, not for them, but for Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Your girlfriend?” She asks.

“Yes, my girlfriend.”

“Um, okay. So yeah. It looks like she went to Charleston um about 3 nights ago for some stitches.”

“And the security tapes. From that night. Can you see where she went? Or if she got in her car?”

“You doubt me. Don't doubt me. Okay so here. It looks like she got into this car. But, it looks like there is someone with her. Im sorry Spencer.”

“Don't be. Just, what’s the licence plate numbers?”

“Um, 56HI90ZC3. Spencer, if you want, we can talk about it.” She says in a soft tone. Thinking that his girlfriend would be cheating on one of her friends.

“No not now. I just need you to track that car, can you do that?”

“Done. Okay so it looks like the last time the car was spotted was here, Cherry Ann Avenue. It looks like they took a turn in this field, and that's all.”

“Great, I need you to contact Hotch and Rossi, and tell them that we got the guy.”

“On it. But, hey do you wanna talk about it?”

“Garcia, we don't have any time. Someone I love is in danger and I don't wanna waste a single second.”

You woke up to the smell of blood, the sound of crickets, and a gut wrenching pain, everywhere across your body.. Crickets everywhere. You looked down to see many cuts. Cuts all over your body, everywhere. And in one place, you swear you saw a knife. What had happened? How long was I out? You tried to remember everything but all you could was getting in a fight with Spencer and then getting in a car with a doctor. Or a nurse, or whoever they were.

“Ah, so you're up.” Michael said as he walked up from the shadows behind him.

“Who are you and what do you want?” You say trying your best to back away from him but something ties you down.

“You forgot who I am already. I must have added a little more meds in there for you. Huh, well that's alright. I’m Michael. More professionally, Dr. Michael Gray.” You just sat there trying to hear him over the intense pain you were in. Almost as if you'd been stabbed 100 times, maybe you had, who knows. “You see, your boyfriend was being the abusive piece of shit he is and so now I'm helping you. Helping you get better.”

“You sick bastard. You're not helping me, you're causing me pain.” You say as he gets closer and closer to your face.

“Shut up!!” He says as he slaps you. “I know what I’m doing!! Do you know how many people I’ve put out of misery!!” He yells in your face. You can feel the spit reaching your face as he does this.

“You’ve hurt those people. You've put them through pain. So much pain. Instead, you could have helped them. But this, this is not help, no this is torture, abuse, assult.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!!” He yelled while throwing the metal tray on the table across the room. “YOU KNOW WHAT, MAYBE WHAT YOU'RE PATHETIC LITTLE BOYFRIEND DID TO YOU WAS GOOD. YOU DESERVED IT!! Don't deserve me, or my help!”

You were shocked. You were scared. You were terrified. But you didn't want to admit it. And the sad part is, all he truly wanted to do is help you. But just at that moment you heard sirens. Sirens everywhere, and they got louder and louder until you saw the colors. Flashing up against the brown wooden wall and the shag carpeting on the floor.

Suddenly you heard a loud bang, the door had come down. “Michael Gray!” You heard someone yell. “Michael, we know what you've done, and we know that you’re here!”

“No, this can't be happening. No no no no no. NO!” He yelled in panic. The most stupid thing to do when you’re trying to hide.

Suddenly 3 people came rushing to the room. One of them happened to be your boyfriend. Who ran over to you immediately without any hesitation.

“Hey Y/N, it's me, Spencer. You're gonna be okay.” He said while holding you. All you did was smile and nod. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, but you just couldn't. You were so sore and tired. And all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Even though you knew that you shouldn't have since, well, you know. You would probably die. But you just couldn't help it.

You woke to a bright light. Or multiple in this case. Why was everything so white. White hurts people. You felt a tug to your hand as you saw who was holding it, Spencer. He stayed. And for god knows how long. He was asleep, and you didn't want to wake him. Poor boy looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep for the past week or so. You checked the clock as the time read 10:37pm. Perfect, just the most perfect time to wake up. You tried to grab your phone, but you had to stretch to get it, and you were not doing that.

Spencer, although woke up from your failed attempt at grabbing your phone. “Y/N, you're awake.” He said dreamily with his eyes half shut.

“Hi Spencer.”

Once he truly realized what was going on, he jumped up from his seat and gripped your hand tighter than before. “Y/N baby, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Well, truthfully. No, I am not okay. I mean, I just got tortured for god know how long, and I think I’ve been asleep. But again, I don't know how long. And oh god, I had my case that I’ve been working on for the past 6 months that was supposed to happen and I missed it!” You say as if the world was ending. He just looks at you. No emotion, just stares.

“Y/N it’s okay. I sorted that out, don't worry. You’re just okay. Why did you go with them anyway?”

You don't know how to respond. Do you tell him everything, or tell him nothing at all. Do you leave out some bits? No, he deserves to hear the whole truth. “Spencer, after what happened that night, I was terrified of what was gonna happen if I came home. And my friends were out of town. So I really had no choice.”

“Y/N,” His voice cracked. “I am so sorry for what I did to you. I truly didn't mean to do that, it just happened. And I don't know why.”

“I know.”

“You probably hate me, and I get that. I would hate me too if I were you. I mean, look at what I put you through. I’m so sorry. And I understand if you wanna breakup and stuff. But, I just wanna say that I love you. I truly do.”

“Spencer,” You say while looking down at your hands, then back up. “I don't hate you. I could never hate you. Not after everything you’ve done for me. I love you, I do.”

He just smiled and kissed you on your forehead. “Y/N, you wanna about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Everything that happened today.”

“Sure, but how about we talk about everything that happened the other day. I mean, I made you pie Spencer, Pie!” He just sat there while you were laughing looking into your eyes. “I love you.” He said. You just smiled and held his hand, “I love you too.”

tagging: @criminalmindsmoodrn, @marshmallowtraver, @ghostly-angelic, and @himarisolace

#criminal minds #spencer reid #reader x spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer #mira writes

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onf-headcanons · 3 years

Text

ONF in Cafe AU

(Establishment)

A/N : 200 followers special!! This different universe from Baker Yuto

Settings : A total brand new universe where they just gather by pure coincidence. Or an alternate universe where ONF later when their contract ended, they gathered to open a cafe once Yuto return to Korea from graduating his bakery course back in Japan. Hyojin, Seungjun and Jaeyoung helped by researching how to register+open business in Korea.

Roles

Yuto : The bread maker

Seungjun : Barista

Hyojin & Jaeyoung : Chief waiter and in charge of cashier

Minkyun : Assisting waiter and more of a helper in the kitchen preparing ingredients

Changyoon : In charge of other menus such as sandwiches/bagel sandwich and dessert

Reader : could be part timer or the regular guest (bonus a fan of ONF as well)

Bonus : Minseok might occasionally drop by to visit or Minseok as another member in the kitchen (i mean have you seen his IG???!!!!!)

Headcanons

As Yuto is more of a bread lover, the cafe would be a bakery+cafe style eatery.

The menu is made and proposed by all 6 of them. Also before they start running business, the kitchen gang has already tried making food to do taste test. (Including WM family)

The menu is written in Korean, English and Japanese.

Yuto would keep trying on making the best bread so he would experiment with different options such as more milk or less flour

Hyojin would always give ideas to improvise. And members trust Hyojin's thoughts because he is such a foodie XD

Seungjun would research and practice on his barista skills.

Changyoon would do graphic design of the menu

Minkyun and Jaeyoung would go out to find spot to rent and open cafe

Once the cafe is opened, this is how they run it.

Because of ONF's nature, I personally think they will test the timing of business by doing a few around of simulations.

This would be suggested by Changyoon and agreed by the leaders

So before they opened, they really tried it out at the empty cafe and simulated with full house for 3~5 days straight. Then they are content with the current timing as below.

I also think Seungjun Jaeyoung and Yuto would keep suggesting adjustments on the timing.

Especially Seungjun and Yuto. Seungjun in the bystander view because he is the barista and Yuto sharing the perspective on what timing those outside kitchen should alert those in the kitchen. They would run timer using their phone.

Bakery closes on 6pm, tidying done by 7:15pm, head out for dinner or simple dinner by whipping up some left over ingredients.

Grocery shopping on 8:45pm or 9pm, headback for cafe for preparations if necessary

Next day 6am at cafe to do early preparations, bakery side and morning take away opens on 7:30am,

10:00am opens for eat in + buffet, they do not do dinner so closes at 6pm and repeat for every day.

They closes on big event public holidays, end of the year+new year.

(They will get quick lunch by ingredients whipped up from the kitchen. Hyojin will switch with Jaeyoung, Seungjun will switch with the part timer, Yuto will get quick bites while waiting for dough to rise, Changyoon and Minkyun will switch)

(BTW this is just reference from my weak experience working on restaurant)

There are 5 walkie talkies. Hyojin, Seungjun and Jaeyoung have 1 each, 1 at the cashier and another is at the kitchen with speakers. This is for them to communicate and alert each other about the crowd and also any food items that are running out.

BTW should we are using the Minseok as one of the member in kitchen, he did not join immediately. But he do drop by to support his hyungs and being the 2nd food taster.

His hyungs and Yuto are a bit reluctant to recruit him but, to their surprise, Minsk volunteered himself.

And oh boy his hyungs all in awe at how good this baby boy's cooking is!!!

Funny moment when Seungjun caught Hyojin eyes are gleaming with bliss after Hyojin tasted Minseok's food. And then only the other hyungs swarming over wanting to taste Minseok's cooking lol

(Hyojin already numb due to so many times food tasting lol but cos he loves to eat he still finishes all the samples. But Minseok's cooking was a breather for him at that exact moment)

Also Changyoon has an idea that putting surveys on each table and let guests to fill in. When they submit to cashier, they might get coupons (?) or maybe discounts about 83%

Or maybe some collectibles and when they got all six stickers, they get 83% discount? (its flexible)

The cafe gains popularity because of the quality and due to good looks of chief waiters and barista.

Also, I think in their menu, (should this is the contract ended ONF universe), they might integrate the member recommendations, it is flexible either food or drink. Or maybe both

Hyojin definitely going to recommend 2 smoothies.

Changyoon would recommend pasta and dessert

Minkyun will go for a sandwich

Jaeyoung might recommend Yuto's sourdough bruschetta

Seungjun will recommend one type of latte

And Yuto will recommend 1 or 2 breads found at bakery/buffet corner. But for menu he would give out tips like which bread type goes better with which cheese or jam

（BTW I think its cute should they use their mascot deer, shark, maltese, gorilla, cat and bread as avatar/icon that appear at recommendations!）

And on their birthday, (this could be Seungjun's idea) there will be a 83% discount sticker placed on the recommended food/drink by the member.

And since we talked about menu...

Again its a bread themed cafe, so the main would be bread, brunch and all day breakfast.

Bread type (buffet) : mini croissants, mini buns, scones, baguette, bagel, white loaf, sourdough

Bread type (bakery) : croissant, buns, garlic bread, scones, baguette, bagel, red bean bun, packed bread loafs

Let me explain about buffet first.

Buffet is for brunch+lunch, which starts on 10:30am to 2pm. Its a 90 minutes course. In that course you can pick 1 of each option of bread, salad, toppings, sides (sausages, hams, cheese and baked beans) and also random desserts.

They offer butter (salted and unsalted), 3 to 4 types of jams (strawberry, mixed fruit and marmalade), variety of paste to go with bread (mashed avocado and Parmesan garlic pesto). also Nutella

For buffet, beverage there already stocked variety of juices, warm coffee and tea (that are already prepared earlier) and fresh water

Cheese they will go for cheddar, Havarti, Feta, Mozarella and brown cheese.

Should you don't go for buffet, they have eat in cafe menu. Which are separately made set meals that comes with beverage. Like sandwiches, bagel sandwiches, spaghetti/pastas, or bruschetta with topping of your choice (6 the most)

Seungjun would prepare freshly brewed coffee, latte, tea, frappe and even smoothie.

Desserts are all simple desserts, like mini tarts and mini cupcake. For specially ordered ones would non baked stuffs that Changyoon and Minkyun made early in the morning and stored in fridge (because dont wanna clash with Yuto baking should any bread nearly sold out. Also can have more flexible timing should Yuto need help they can back up)

Initially, Changyoon will always make extra desserts by x2.5 amount, especially mini tarts or mini cupcakes at the buffet area. He is a worry wart.

BTW the bell Changyoon presented Yuto during OnDaeJeon? Its later used at the cafe lol. As the alert tool for waiters that food is done come and take it

I think on early years, at most 2 years, they are not going to do delivery or food app order service just yet.

But they will run an Instagram or twitter account for the cafe and using it just like how they are doing with they current twitter account. Promoting food and giving out random recommendations also a glimpse of their daily lifes running the cafe and bakery

I think Changyoon would upload a pic of seasonal fruit and a teaser for new seasonal dessert? And then lol it will sometimes plot twist ends up being seasonal beverage that made by Seungjun lol

Should Minseok is not a member running the cafe, the boys consult with him occasionally about adding new seasonal,time limited items.

Also Hyojin and Yuto being the photographer taking picture of the food. Oops I forgot, the pictures of food items in menu are both taken by them too!

Minkyun will bring along one of his fave part timer to do emergency grocery shopping should he needed a hand.

Hyojin and Jaeyoung will try to help customer to decide by suggesting recommendation

Also Hyojin, who would sometimes keep an eye on how customer do combination on their food and get inspiration from it then later try to propose to the team.

As chief waiters, both Hyojin and Jaeyoung would always during at the cashier, asking customers should they have any suggestions or proposal (even if they submitted the survey). Values communications and feedback between staff and customers.

Also Seungjun will help out keeping an eye in case they miss out someone trying to call a waiter. Later after a year of profits, they upgraded to bell calling service type, press a button and they come serve you in a minute.

Initially, Hyojin and Jaeyoung would make use of walkie talkie to recite orders that they get so that Seungjun, Yuto, Changyoon and Minkyun can get them

After maybe a couple months of profit, they upgraded it to tablets. while the walkie talkie is used as mentioned above, to alert regarding to run out/sold out food items.

Also, once reached closing hours, I think they will also have a brief meeting. Especially for waiters team. I think Hyojin would guide and critique on performance.

In overall it is very warm to work with ONF but you have to keep up because they are also strict.

I can see should they know part timers birthday, they would wish them. Maybe Changyoon/Minseok will shove special dessert or pasta for them.

It will be funny that some fans went there hoping to see Yuto, Changyoon and Minkyun but they are busy, do not want to disappoint, Hyojin and Seungjun might try to call them out using walkie talkie. (only apply to the contract end universe)

Oh I had a thought, maybe not the public knows that Minseok joined? I think maybe its also Minseok's terms and conditions because he does not want the spotlight he just wanna help running the business

Also should WM family drop by to visit, the first word as they enter the door, both sides will go “Aigooooo~~~~!!!” (Refer to RTK where Oh My Girl drops by to check out ONF for TWML practise)

Should that happen, its a big day for the fans

BUT!!! I can think ONF cafe later be the hangout spot for WM family? like member’s birthday? lets go to ONF cafe! Because Yuto baked a cake specially for us!! and off they go~

I mean its a great deal, considering Yuto’s love for bread and he did not sell customised cakes. So its personalised stuff he made for those he cared about.

That is why mostly the gathering will happen after 6pm or

Maybe WM managers drop by to pick up the special cake

Also, Yuto let part timers to have leftover breads or desserts at bakery and buffet area for free. His hyungs agreed because you should not waste food. Plus freshly made bread are their selling point so they won't recycle them.

A/N : gonna stop here and should there is more, I might do a part 2~!

#onf #cafe au #onf headcanons #onf imagines #onf headcanon #onf scenarios

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samtheflamingomain · 2 years

Text

the cooking-hater's cookbook

I'm a fry cook. I actually quite enjoy my job despite it being exhausting and occasionally stressful.

Which for a while, I thought was weird. Cuz I fucking hate cooking.

But I've come to learn that cooking as a job, in a commercial kitchen, with a set menu, is very different from cooking at home. In my mind, they couldn't be more different.

I could detail exactly why, but I don't think that's a super hot take. Instead, I'd like to offer some advice to others who hate cooking for themselves at home.

Tip #1: Buy a fryer. Oil or air, get a machine where you insert the food and remove it and eat it in less than 10 minutes. Before I got my mini deep fryer, that machine was the oven for me. But it takes longer, has limits on what can go in it, and usually makes whatever you're making taste bland.

I hate standing over a stove, especially if I'm using more than one burner at once. You have to be timing things, stirring, seasoning. And again, limitations on what you can make.

It also results in far fewer dishes to do. My fryer has single-handedly cut my grocery bill down a lot by buying bulk fry-ables and also has increased my motivation to cook.

Tip #2: Make good food. Nothing would zap my motivation to cook more than knowing I'd be spending 40 minutes making bland-ass pasta that will taste like nothing. I don't mean go out and get some Wagu and caviar, and you don't even need to do much work to fix this.

Seasoning is your friend. It's easy, and if you're bold, fun to experiment. Even the cheapest frozen nuggets can be turned into boneless wings tossed in sauce and pepper. Pasta sauce is one of the most versatile substances in your kitchen. There's almost nothing you can put into tomato sauce that won't make it taste better. Broccoli just needs butter and salt. I've yet to encounter anything that Cajun spice doesn't improve.

It might seem daunting, and I know some that are worried about ruining the meal with the wrong spice or herb. Valid, but it's worth ruining a bowl of pasta to find out you hate lemon pepper. And you'll get better over time, learning what goes good together for your palette. I have this as my #2 tip because I find that knowing it's going to taste good motivates me to cook it.

If you're really worried about ruining a dish, just take a small portion, season, and taste.

Tip #3: Figure out what vegetables you like. I spent far too many years buying all kinds of vegetables that would rot away in the fridge. And buying frozen veggie mixes with 2/4 being ones I won't eat.

I hate cauliflower, corn and cooked carrots. But I fucking love broccoli. When I buy frozen broccoli, that's my veg for all my meals until it's gone. I'll do a salad now and then but if you want cucumber and pepper and onion and tomato, you have a week to have those salads. Personally I can enjoy a lettuce-only salad, but it's kinda pointless nutritionally.

Now, I only eat broccoli. Frozen spinach and onion goes in pasta sauce, but I always spring for a tomato to go on egg sandwiches or burgers, the only thing I'll stand over a stove to make occasionally.

Honestly, you'll live on 2 veggies. Find the top 2 and just eat those. (I'm just a random dude, not a doctor or nutritionist. Just my advice when you hate cooking).

Tip #4, and I know you don't wanna hear it but Meal Planning! Yes, it takes time, but it's the least-avoidable part of cooking. But lucky reader, I have a hack for you.

Pick your favorite mid-tier restaurant. Not fancy, not fast-food, maybe like Wild Wing or St. Louis or Olive Garden. Go ahead and pull up their menu online. Browse as though you were ordering for yourself, but also your future self. Example. For me it's East Side Mario's. If I get the seafood linguine today, I won't want it again tomorrow or the next day, but maybe 4 days from now. Spaghetti looks good. Oh, they do a fish dish? And a marinated chicken?

You now have 4-5 meals that you know (or have reason to believe) you'd enjoy. Obviously you're not a restaurant, but something like "seafood linguine" can be simplified to "pasta with shrimp" or even just "pasta with a kind of meat thrown in". If you're lucky, your menu might even list some of the ingredients used. You don't have to get them all, but you'll have an idea on how to make a dish taste good.

This isn't meant to be a 1:1 exercise, just a way to get people who have a hard time coming up with meals to hone in on some ideas. It doesn't work for everyone, especially those more on the picky side.

But this hack is actually a 2-for-1! Restaurants want as few veggies on hand as possible and will therefore try and use one for multiple dishes. Same with spices etc. So, if your 4-5 meals mention a certain veggie a few times, chances are better that you'll use the whole thing before it goes bad.

Tip #5 is meal prepping. I don't do it myself because I don't like rice. If you do, this is for you. If not, you are correct, let's continue.

Tip #6, and this might be the most important. Learn what your body wants. This took me ages. I was forced to eat breakfast as a kid and continuing into adulthood despite not being hungry upon waking. Usually a small snack around 4pm then my main meal around 10pm.

I have no proof but I think it's genetic because, despite my father eating his 3 squares at the dinner table at 8, noon and 6, my mother only ever ate dinner, but would eat twice as much as us. Now I do the same. when I'm hungry at 10pm, I'm HONGRY. I eat way more than I think I should, but technically still less than 2000 calories.

Some call this a "caveman diet" - eating once a day. I just follow my body. If it's hungry, it eats.

I guess I should disclaim that those with irregular or disordered eating should maybe be wary of this tip. I'm anorexic myself, in recovery, but I understand if this is seen as encouraging. No - if you're only eating once a day, bitch stack them pancakes to the sky and get your 2k calories if that's what it takes.

My final piece of advice is to find some part, any part, of the cooking experience enjoyable. For me, it's chopping vegetables, because I'm realllllly good at it. I can mince even the juciest of tomatoes and turn 1 pickle into 10 slices of pickle. Wow, great flex, Sam.

Maybe it's the seasoning, testing out different cook times, different techniques, sauces, pairings. I'd even say "cleaning up as you go" could be a draw for the compulsive cleaners like me. Even just seeing your food come to life. You took something, say a raw meat or uncooked pasta, and made it edible. 2000y ago, you'd be God.

Feel free to add any tips of your own, this is by no means exhaustive.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#cooking #food tw #ed tw #sam

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carraville · 7 years

Note

Hi there I'm writing a fic and wondered if you could help me with something. I don't know an awful lot about David beckham Paul scholes and Phil Neville. I know your a man Utd fan and you'll probably love them all haha but just tell me what they're like from what you can gather as people and players. Even if it's just your opinion that's fine! Thanks so much for your help

ok SO i do love them a lot and i know much more about them than i ought to, so much so to the point that it might be more useful if you had something more specific you need to ask about, because i…am far too involved in them??? buT general-wise i wrote a draft primer on the co92 a while ago and I’m just going to copy and paste from there and hope this helps!!!!

putting this under a read more because this is....long

BECKS:

Everyone and their mum (especially their mums, probably) knows who David Beckham is, but did you know him when he thought that curtains were not just to make windows pretty but also for hair? Did you? Because curtain becks is almost as bad as half-alive mullet becks (although nothing can beat cornrow becks in the history of what the fuck were you thinking, let’s be real).

What can I tell you about Becks that you don’t already know? He has OCD and has to have an even number of coke cans in the fridge. He took cooking classes when he was at Milan and learnt how to make pasta (a far cry from his humble beginnings in Gary Neville’s kitchen). His middle name is Robert for Bobby Charlton. He’s honestly a more down-to-earth and clever bloke than people give him the credit for and he’s really just a little boy who’s loving what he does and works incredibly hard for it? A lot of people always remember the underwear modeling (for good reason, I mean, have you seen) but in doing so they dismiss his playing days, which is ridiculous because he was so fucking good. And hey, you can be good at both football and looking like a life-sized, anatomically correct Ken doll! His crosses were exquisite, his free kicks were sublime, and the partnership he had with Gaz is still guilty of murder for killing me through old, grainy youtube videos. Also everyone’s always keen to stress that he’s never really let fame change him or the way he deals with people, which is lovely.

If you wanna kill urself, watch his retirement interview with Gary, because it perfectly sums up who he is. Boy from Leytonstone who wanted to play football. He’s so insistent on being remembered as a player that it really breaks your heart that more people don’t. No one talks about how he tried that Wimbledon goal every day in training, or how he still hits exquisite free kicks aged 40plus because he practiced them for so damn long. He’s a beautiful talented hardworking boy and I lov him!! and he’s not arrogant or anything at all he’s just so cool!

Becks left United in 2003 after a bit of a bust up with Fergie, even though they remain on great terms nowadays. It broke everyone’s heart, it broke Gary’s heart, but it wasn’t so bad for Becks bc he found a Spanish goalkeeper to frolic around with. Still couldn’t watch us play for years, though, so there!!! In 2007 he moved to LA Galaxy, in 2013 he moved to PSG, and he retired then. It was great, he got thrown into the air and shit bc he was retiring so it wouldn’t matter if he broke his legs. ffs lads.

Fun fact: I still laugh at the fact that his house in Hertfordshire was called Beckhingham Palace

SCHOLESY:

My favourite story of him regarding this Intense Dislike for Humanity is this one: after the 2008 CL final, which we won, he was the first and only one on the team bus while everyone else was ostensibly getting drunk off their tits. At the next press conference, reporters asked him if he’d wanted to have some time to himself and reflect on how he’d finally gotten redemption for 1999. He stared at them and said, “I just wanted to go home.”

IDC IF IT’S AN URBAN MYTH IT BASICALLY SUMS HIM UP ENTIRELY.

My other favourite story of him is him telling AC Milan’s president that ‘if you want me to play for you, you’ll have to buy this club’, because we’re the best club in the world. Seriously, his love for United is so great. Sometimes he’s described as an Oldham fan, but he’s said before that it was United first and Oldham second. Did I say ‘said’? I probably meant smoke-signalled it because this bitch is so hard to get interviews with. There’s this great one where he’d just retired or something so the BBC got him to do an interview and their first question was ‘is this a living hell for you, then?’ and his response was ‘it is, really, yeah…I’ve been thinking to myself ‘why the hell did I agree to this???’. I know people have been knocking him for talking a lot more nowadays but a) he’s a pundit, it’s his job to talk and b) I rly think it’s just because it’s his only link with football that he has left?? So he puts himself thru it, because he just loves football so much, and that makes me love him even more? The directors of CO92 had a kickabout with him and described it as watching a little boy play again and I think that’s just the most beautiful and pure thing and Scholesy is so pure. Except when he’s setting people on fire.

BC HE DOES THAT A LOT, like, you think he’s quiet so he ain’t gonna be up for much banter but, my dude, he is the most savage person you will ever encounter. The closest I’ve ever seen him come to pissing himself laughing was when he was describing attacking Phil with a 50-yarder and knocking a POOR INNOCENT BOY flat on the ground. Laughing at that! Also his sense of humour is absolute wreckage. Gary has the best story:

People think Scholesy’s shy and quiet but he’s one of the most cutting people I know. Example: the day Diana Law, who worked in United’s press department, was chatting with the players. “Gary, you remind me of my brother for some reason,” she said. “Why?” Scholesy replied, quick as a flash. “Is he a knob too?”

HAHAH u knob. AnyWAY this is getting long but tldr tiny ginger little shit who hates the world and would probably hate how much i love him. He debuted for United in 1994, scoring twice against Port Vale, and retired in 2011, then unretired in 2012 and waltzed into our starting XI, and then retired again in 2013. So the only person we could find to replace Paul Scholes was Paul Scholes. smh.

Fun fact: he used to steal all of Gary’s shit and hide things and he’s SUCH A LITTLE SHIT, both literally and figuratively, I love it

PHIL:

ok phil is just the sweetest purest cinnamon roll you will ever meet, ever, I mean you probably won’t ever meet him but u know what i mean. Sometimes I think he’s too sweet bc he’s such a dumb pushover. Someone once said he was everyone’s favourite Neville just by virtue of being not Gary. Which is hilarious. ANyway he’s a fuckin sweetie pie and family man who constantly refers to his kids has his babies even tho Harvey is, like, old enough to drive I think?? and he’s an incredibly good dad to Isabella especially who has cerebral palsy but he’s so!!!! supportive!!! and god what did we do to deserve this dumb boi. If we were doing a CO92/Spice Boys crossover he would be Redders hands down because he also gets a lot of stick, from his commentary to his analysis (I s’pose it doesn’t help when ur bruv keeps winning shit like pundit of the year), but he always takes it on the chin and laughs it off and keeps on being such a good person, kind to everyone he meets and genuinely good-natured. I love his self-deprecating humour, it’s the best thing. He also loves United a lot, altho probably not as much as he loves Gaz uwu

Ok, so he’s not the world’s most exciting or greatest player, but he was honestly rly talented and people can forget that?? I mean you don’t just make captain of Everton bc you’re the United captain’s lil bro. He scored some amazing goals when he was at United - maybe the olden day Jesse Lingard - not a great goal scorer but a scorer of great goals. And he was always so intent and almost enthusiastic going into things, which kinda mirrors his puppy personality, which I lov. because don’t let his puppy dog eyes and smile fool u, ok, he’s just as driven as all of them and he will get what he want. probably just with less blood and dead people than, like, scholesy.

He’s two years younger than the rest of them so he made his debut in ‘95 and then heartbreakingly left in 2005, going on to captain Everton (but not before scoring an own goal against us bc he loves us still really). He retired in 2013. All these kids retiring in the same year! Tsk. It’s like they planned it or something.

Fun fact: he was a brilliant cricketer and used to play with Freddie Flintoff. A tear shed for the hungover Philip at Buckingham Palace that we never had

#Anonymous #answered #i remember word counting this and it was like.....2k or 3k with the other lads as well #istg #there were also embarrassing pics but im too lazy to copy them over

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monsters-of-nyc-blog · 7 years

Text

Monster AU Part 5: King George Interlude (Lams)

Alex checked his phone for the fifth time in the past five minutes. I'll be home in an hour, stay out of trouble. Alex groaned and threw his phone. He was hungry and he wanted his fucking pasta. He stood up grumpily and made himself a bowl of cereal. John was actually taking too much time in just picking the italian food four streets away from Alex’s apartment. It was just two plates of pasta, and anyways, what did he meant with stay out of trouble? It's not like anything could happen, right? Alex hummed quietly to himself, settling down at the table. He could swear he heard a noise at the window but when he looked, there was nothing there. He pushed it off as his lonely imagination and started eating. But soon enough, the silence in the apartment was interrupted by the sound of the crash of the window. Alex eyes were wide open, surprised by what just happened in a matter of seconds. And to make it even worst, it was not any ordinary enemy of his, it was the one and only “King” George. Alex rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Oh it's just you. What the hell do you want? “ He asked, annoyed that the bastard had ruined cereal time. “Maybe I should’ve entered by the door, you’ll have to pay for that my friend!” The King said, mocking him. His annoying british accent was something Alex hated with all his soul, “I would’ve send a disciple or someone else but i need to make this a little bit more personal” The king walked toward Alex, “So, where’s your precious boss? We need to solve some… things” Alex laughed darkly. “Wait really? You think I'm going to tell you where he is? Hilarious. Leave. “ He pointed at his door and glared at the King. When he didn't move Alex rolled his eyes. “Or you could stand there like an idiot and just not get answers. Your choice. “ The King laughed, but this wasn't something to laugh about “Listen, Hamilton, I'm not here to play your stupid little games, okay? I really need to talk to Washington and I’m pretty sure you want to collaborate with me, instead of paying for the consequences” Alex took another step back,noticing he was now trapped against the wall with no way out. “Doesn't matter how bad you want to talk to him. You're not getting him. If he wanted to talk, you'd be talking. “ He cocked his head like a confused dog. “And what consequences? What can an old man like you do to me? “ “Old… Man” the king said, he was furious “Listen, boy, I am known for a lot of things, how I rule a whole empire of vampires, how I can make everyone bow to my feet, and especially… How i can get what i want” he said and his eyes turned into a dark shade of red. It was really quick, but now George was choking Alex holding him high up against the wall. “So now stop acting like a little bitch and tell me where the fuck Washington is.. “ Alex tried pulling off the king’s hands, much to no success. “I'm… Not.. Telling you.. “ he choked out. He kicked at George and growled angrily, eyes turning bright red. “Let me go asshole! “ “Asshole? You dare to call me an Asshole?!” The king shouted, and pulled out a silver knife, holding up so his victim could see it “Tell me where Washington is, now” Alex tensed up at the knife. Any ordinary knife would be fine, but one made of silver could actually kill him. He kicked his legs more, trying to touch the floor. “My answer is still… NO. “ It didn't matter to him whether or not he got stabbed. Washington told him he'd have a much worse fate if he ever revealed their base. Alex made a bad decision that night. The king smirked, he looked like a psychopath and he didn't have any good intentions. He needed to know where Washington is, his worst enemy, and what can you do instead of attacking straight up to your enemy? Attack what they love. “TELL. ME. WHERE. HE. IS. NOW” with every word, a cut was made into Alexander’s body, arms, chest, leg, and even when he finished talking he made 5 new cuts. “TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME” Three more cuts, the king really did everything he could to get what he wants. Alex whimpered loudly. It hurt like a bitch but he stayed quiet. 200 years of loyalty, he wasn't going to just stop. He flinched at every slice but kept his mouth shut, deciding just all out protesting was better than arguing. There was a heavy feeling in his chest. One that he didn't like and it was growing stronger the weaker he became. The king delivered more cuts in Alex’s body, screaming for the location of Washington, but when he saw Alexander with his mouth closed like doors, he knew he wouldn't talk. Twelve, twelve more cuts and heavy breathing “You’re not going to talk, aren't you?” Silence, and then The King sighed “Fine, as you wish” he dropped Alex on the floor and then walked away up to the kitchen, he opened the fridge and said ‘Bingo!’. There were five bags of blood Washington gave Alex every week. The king looked back at his victim and then, got his fangs out and drank through the bags in seconds “Lets see how you recover from that now” he dropped the bags on the floor and walked to the window “I always get what i want, Hamilton, always” and then jumped out. Alex stayed on the floor for a long time. He had his hand on his neck in shock. What the everloving fuck just happened. It hurt. Everything hurt. That never happened before. Alex didn't get hurt. Ever. He stared at the window, not even registering the bags we're lying empty around him. Where was john when he needed him? Tears started falling from his eyes before he could stop them. And the thought that he was weak enough to cry made him cry even harder. But before Alex could drop another tear out of his eyes, he heard to door, maybe that was the best sound he could ever hear in his whole life. “Babe! You won't believe what happened at the-” he heard the bags hitting the floor “ALEXANDER HOLY FUCK” His boyfriend ran up to him and kneeled down “JESUS CHRIST I LEFT FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF WHAT HAPPENED ARE YOU OKAY? GOD OBVIOUSLY YOU’RE NOT, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!” John had fear in his voice. Alex sniffled and continued staring at the window. “Old friend… Needed something. I guess I'm not much of a talker…. “ He reached up to wipe his eyes but cried out in pain from the cuts. “I wasn't too helpful. John it hurts I don't know what to do ,I don't… I don't get hurt. I feel so small like anyone could crush me. What the hell happened to me?. “ “Shh shh shh, baby d-dont talk don't say t-that!” John started kissing his boyfriend face, cheeks, nose, forehead, eyes, mouth, a bunch of small kisses that always made Alex feel better “You’re not small, you’re big, you’re strong, and the most important part is that i'm here, and i’ll never leave your side” John said, he felt so stupid, if he arrived just a minute earlier he could’ve helped. He felt useless, but now it was time to help “Alex, Alex you need blood, wait here” he ran up to the kitchen and checked the fridge, nothing, then he looked down and every bag they had left was empty dry on the floor “Did you drank them all? Oh God look at you of course you didn't, that sick bastard” he said and ran up to his boyfriend again “Alex please tell me what can I do” he cried. Alex let out a weak whine. “I need blood… He took it all. I'm too weak to go hunting. “ He felt pathetic, the feeling only growing stronger by the second. Of course there was always one way to get what he needed but it was an incredibly stupid idea and dangerous for the both of them. He pushed the idea to the side and hung his head. “I just want a hug… “ “Alex, n-no, you need blood” John said, he may not be a vampire but he wasn't stupid. He clearly knew what his boyfriend was thinking, and yes it was dangerous for both of them, but John would do anything for Alexander, anything. He holded his hair in a messy ponytail, pulled his shirt off and nervously, pointed his neck. Alex had bitten John before, but not for this kind of uses, just playful bites that didn't included his fangs. “Come on, drink up” Alex stared at John’s neck hungrily. “No, I can't it-it's too dangerous. “ John stared at him expectantly and Alex sighed. He wasn't too sure it would work but he decided it was better than nothing. He felt his fangs grow out and he crawled into John’s lap. He kissed the spot softly before biting into it and drawing blood. John at first felt relaxed, ‘this isn't thaaat bad’, but just a few seconds later he started feeling like if his soul was being sucked away, it was a burning feeling, it hurted a lot. John’s eyes turned brilliant gold because of the pain, he felt like if he was going to turn and he was trying so hard to control it. John started growling while Alex just drank his blood in a more painful way. Alex kept drinking from John, distracted by his sudden thirst. He wrapped his arms around John’s waist to pull him closer. His eyes were glowing at that point. John has fought a lot of creatures, he was even burned once because of a witch, but this kind of pain was uncomparable with anything else is his whole life. Not even turning in a full moon, which he thought that was the most painful thing for him, could be compared to this kind of pain. And it only got worse. John felt Alex holding him tight, like if he was his pray. He looked at the ceiling waiting for it to end but it didn't, they pain was so big he growled like a real wolf and he felt his fangs going out. “A-Alex that's enough” Alex whimpered like a child, holding him closer. “No!” He mumbled. He was losing control, like he would before John. “Don't wanna. “ STOP YOU'RE HURTING HIM! The voice inside him cried out, giving him a headache. “No. More. I want it all. “ you're going to kill him! “That's the point! “ Alex giggled. John only being able to hear the psychotic side of the conversation. Human Alex was desperately trying to claw his way through. John thought, ‘okay, just a little more, he almost dies’. He was suddenly crying while that pain in his neck was only growing. His breathing got heavy and started to sweat, ‘oh no’, he said to himself. His nails suddenly where sharp claws, and his teeth turned into fangs, this was the point when the pain was going to make him fully turn, so Alex needed to stop. John’s eyes glowed more and then he growled “I SAID, ENOUGH” and then pushed Alex away. Alex’s back hit the wall the king left him on. His eyes went back to normal and he seemed to come out of a daze. He saw John and put his hand over his mouth. “John! Did I do that to- oh fuck of course I did… Why are you looking at me like that?!” He squeaked, slightly scared. John’s eyes were still shining, it would take some minutes for him to go back to normal. He looked at Alex furious, and growled, making his boyfriend more scared. He breathed with his mouth open, Alex could clearly look at John’s fangs. “Be more fucking c-careful next time…” He stood up and walked up to his boyfriend “Are you better now?” EGGO Alex nodded quickly, staring at John with wide eyes. “I-i'm okay. Are you” “It hurts like a bitch” he answered, then he looked at his hands and sighed “It will take some minutes for this to disappear” John laughed and then looked back at his boyfriend with his shining golden eyes “I'm glad you’re okay” EGGO Alex smiled sadly. “I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened it's like I was suddenly a different person. It was terrifying. “ Alex paused and smiled wider. “You're eyes are pretty like that. You're pretty like that. “ John did felt like a beast every time his fangs, claws and real eyes were out. He smiled, showing his fangs, and blushed a lot “T-Thanks” he helped Alex get up “And i don't blame you… you were weak and almost dying, it's pretty normal” EGGO “I've never felt so weak and… Humiliated? In my life. He wasn't even doing anything bad, just choking ne and slicing me up but still, that shit is degrading sometimes. “ He buried his face in John’s chest. He hugged his small boyfriend, trying to be careful with the claws. “It's okay, I just want you to know that you are not weak, you’re one of the bravest and strongest people I know-” he was going to say something else, and then he realised “wAIT ALEXANDER DID YOU SAID SLICING?!” He pushed his boyfriend back so he could see him, and then growled again but this time by accident “... Sorry for that” Alex shrugged. “Your growl is only scary when I am being a dick… And oh this stuff? “ he looked at his scratched up, slightly bloody body. “It's… Nothing. So um. How about dinner? “ John smiled and then blinked a lot of times, his eyes came back to normal and so did his hands and teeth. “Thats a great ide-” he suddenly stayed quiet and then looked back at the bags at the floor, with all the pasta also on the floor “... I’ll call the chinese restaurant”

#lams #alexander hamilton #john laurens #king george iii #violence

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