#i used to work as a line cook in fine dining

[axolotlclown]

Listening to women right now is very important. We are witnessing other women step forward and speak about their experiences with Wilbur. As men, we need to be listening, because it's never just one woman.

However, we also must not forget the value of our voices. We as men need to step up and say that this behavior is unacceptable. We need to talk about it. We need to call out our friends and our brothers for this behavior.

Men that hurt women will not listen to women, but they will listen to men. If we truly want to support women right now, we need to be vocal about our support. We need to show up and acknowledge the reality—Shubble is not the only woman that has experienced this kind of abuse.

There are many women in our personal lives that experience this abuse. Abusers could be our closest friends, family, mentors, and leaders. We cannot let our guard down. We cannot sacrifice our morals to keep the peace. We must remain vocal. This behavior cannot be socially acceptable.

We say that we support women. We say that we will support domestic violence survivors. But when the abuse is staring you in the eyes, we remain complacent. This is not acceptable.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

[goldengalore]

Neglected

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry has been feeling neglected and unappreciated by Y/N, and she doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, smut (sub!harry, soft dom!reader)

A/N: I woke up at 4am one morning with the urge to write this. Also listened to Tolerate It by Taylor Swift for more inspo!

***

In all the years that Harry has been married to Y/N, he has never felt neglected by her. Sure, there have been instances where her schedule became too hectic for them to spend much time together, but even then, her love and appreciation for him could be felt through her actions.

Lately though, that hasn’t been the case.

Work has been stressing her out, he can discern that much. And while she has never been one to let work stress affect her personal relationships, this past week has brought out a different side to her. A side that makes him feel small and invisible.

When she comes home, it’s like she wants nothing to do with him. She heads straight upstairs, telling him she’ll be down for dinner later. During dinner, she’ll ask their daughter, Savannah, about her day but won’t ask him. After dinner, she’ll go back upstairs without acknowledging whether the food was good or not, even when he cooks her favourite dishes. He’ll wash up in the kitchen and go up to their bedroom to find her already asleep on her side of the bed—or pretending to be asleep, it seems at times. If he tries to cuddle up to her, she’ll shrug him off and shift further towards the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He’s beginning to wonder if he unwittingly did something to upset her. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Maybe he should just suck it up. Surely, this won’t last forever and she’ll be back to her normal self soon enough…

It’s Friday now. He hopes that with the weekend on the horizon, Y/N will be in a much better mood when she gets home.

“Hi, lovie,” he greets her when she walks in through the door. “How was your day?”

She releases a heavy sigh as she slips off her heels. “Shitty, but at least it’s over, right?”

“Sorry to hear that.” He attempts to give her a hug, but it doesn’t last longer than a second before she pulls away with a tight smile.

She heads to the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys by the stairs along the way. He follows her like a lost puppy. Grabbing herself a glass of water, she collapses onto one of the dining chairs and chugs it down.

At least she didn’t go straight upstairs today, he thinks to himself, grasping for a silver lining.

She rolls her neck from side to side and rubs the back of her shoulder, wincing a bit. Harry moves to stand behind her. Shifting her hair over to one side, he starts massaging her neck and shoulders. He holds his breath, expecting her to brush him off, but instead, she reclines in her seat while he carefully presses his thumbs into the nape of her neck.

“Work has been such a pain lately,” she admits.

“I know. Could tell you’ve been stressed out.”

“It’s this new boss. She’s impossible to work with. She puts unreasonable deadlines on everything, expecting us to finish these huge, complicated tasks within days. Then, when people like me try to speak up about it, she’ll publicly shame us in front of the whole office and pile on even more work so that— Ow! Okay, H, you’re pressing too hard.” She reaches behind her to push his hands away.

“Oops. Sorry, love.” Fuck. She was finally opening up to him about why she’s been acting so cold, finally giving him more than just one-word responses or vague explanations, and he ruined it.

“It’s fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” She stands up.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her hand.

She turns to him with a look of mild annoyance.

“Um, wh—why don’t I run you a hot bath?”

“Sure. Not too hot though, okay? I’d like to not burn my skin off.”

He chuckles at the comment, pretending that it didn’t sting a little. “Yeah, of course.”

He runs the bath and checks the temperature of the water multiple times while Y/N undresses in their bedroom. He’s about to check for a fourth time when she enters the bathroom in her white robe, which she hangs up on the wall hook. She settles into the tub and closes her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry watches from the doorway, wishing he could get in there with her and be close to her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he offers tentatively. “We can talk more about the stuff you’ve been dealing with at work.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t even want to think about work.”

“Oh. Well, we can chat about something else to get your mind off—”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk.” She opens her eyes briefly to look at him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, okay?”

Translation: Don’t bother me until dinner.

With a hollowness in his chest, he shuts the bathroom door and returns downstairs to the kitchen.

***

“Daaaaad?” Savannah calls to her father from the dining table, where she has decided to do her homework tonight.

“Yeeeees?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Be right there.” He turns down the heat on the stove before walking over to his daughter, leaning over her to take a look at what she’s working on. Math. His worst enemy.

“I don’t understand this question,” she says, pointing to a lengthy word problem on the page with several multiple choice options.

He reads and rereads it a few times before attempting to solve it in his head. It seems easy enough… Until he realizes that the answer he came up with isn’t even one of the options. He asks Savannah how her teacher taught her to approach questions like this, and her explanation only confuses him even more. Math was tough when he was in school, but the way they teach it nowadays boggles his mind.

“I’ll go see if your mum can help.”

He heads upstairs to check if Y/N is done with her bath and finds her sitting at the foot of their bed in her robe, brushing her hair. The sun is setting outside. Its warm, amber glow spills through the curtains and falls across one side of Y/N’s face, casting a shadow on the other. She looks ethereal in this light, like a goddess, and he feels unworthy of her presence.

“Babe? Savannah needs help with her maths homework,” he tells her.

“Can’t you handle it?”

“I mean, I’m trying, but we both know how useless I am at maths,” he answers with a smirk, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Harry, it’s grade school math, not rocket science.”

His face drops. “Well, yeah, but I— Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, turning back around to face her. “Y/N, are you… Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

He instantly regrets asking. Y/N closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, H, I just need some time alone,” she states slowly. “Like, is that too much to ask? I can’t even have a second alone without you getting clingy and thinking I’m mad at you? It’s exhausting.”

His heart cracks for what feels like the millionth time that night. Clingy. His wife thinks he’s clingy. It’s not the first time he has been called that word. But it is the first time he has been called that word by her. And God, does it hurt like a dagger slicing through his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before leaving.

He tries his best to help Savannah with the question, ultimately resorting to Google where he finds the solution posted on some forum a few years ago.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asks Savannah once her homework has been sorted.

He raises a brow at the odd, adult-like concern in his daughter’s voice. “Yes. Why?”

“You look sad.”

He forces a smile. “I’m not sad. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, of course. But I’m fine.”

She squints her big eyes at him suspiciously, drawing a genuine laugh out of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he says, “I’m going to finish making dinner, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

That little token of appreciation means so much to him, he gives her another kiss on the head.

“You’re very welcome.”

***

Harry feels numb at dinner. His appetite is nonexistent. The food that he himself cooked with love and care tastes bland and flavourless to him. He has long zoned out on the conversation between Y/N and Savannah, which is completely unlike him, as someone who prides himself on being a good listener.

“H, you okay? You’ve barely touched your food,” comments Y/N. It shocks him that she even noticed.

“Daddy’s sad,” Savannah blurts out.

Y/N frowns, studying him from across the table. “Sad about what?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He stares down at his plate and changes the subject. “Does anyone else feel like the pasta sauce is missing something? I followed the recipe to a tee and still messed it up somehow.” He shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to get anything right today.

“No, it’s perfect,” says Y/N. “As always.”

She’s praising him. So why does he feel like crying?

“Where are you going?” she asks as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I have a headache. Going to lie down for a bit. Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll take care of it later.” He places his unfinished plate on the kitchen counter and leaves.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he has even reached the top of the stairs. By the time he gets to the bedroom, they’re spilling onto his cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he just climbs under the covers on his side of the bed and lets his pillow soak them up.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed before he hears Savannah’s voice down the hall, telling her mother goodnight, and then moments later, the light creak of the bedroom door opening, followed by Y/N’s footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips behind him.

“H?” she says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

He clears his throat and tries to keep a steady voice as he replies, “Yeah. You need anything?”

“No, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Do you need anything from me? Painkillers? A cup of tea?”

How about kisses? Or cuddles? Or any kind of attention that doesn’t involve you glaring at me like I’m a waste of space? he answers in his head, but out loud he says, “I’m fine. Thank you, love.”

“You know, you keep saying you’re fine and I don’t know if I believe you.”

He doesn’t respond.

She places a hand on his arm over the covers. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he emphasizes stubbornly.

“Can you please look at me?”

He sighs. A part of him is tempted to snap at her and tell her to leave him alone, to hurt her the way she hurt him, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. What he really wants is to be held by her, to be told that he is loved and appreciated and wanted.

When she gently tugs on his arm to make him turn around, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes scan his face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, honey.” She brings a hand to his cheek. He’s been so deprived of her touch that he leans into it immediately. “Did I do this?” she asks with guilt-ridden eyes which suggest she already knows the answer to that.

“I feel like I can’t do anything right by you lately,” he says. “I just want to spend some time with you when you get home, but you never talk to me and you shoo me away any time I try to come near you. I don’t know what I did, but lately, I feel more like an annoying pest that you have to tolerate than your husband. And maybe that makes me clingy or whatever—”

“That does not make you clingy,” she interjects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I’ve just been under so much pressure at work. That’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you, but I need you to know that it has nothing to do with you, okay? You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Yes, baby. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I come home with all this pent-up frustration and I don’t want to take it out on you by accident… But it looks like I’ve been doing that anyway.” She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses him tenderly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She gets under the covers with him and guides his head to her chest, tangling her fingers into his hair. He nuzzles his face close to her breasts. She apologizes again and reassures him that he’s the best husband she could have ever asked for, that she still looks forward to coming home to him at the end of each day, that she loves him more than words can ever explain.

Her delicate touches mixed with her comforting voice telling him everything he needed to hear soothes his aching heart. They cuddle in silence for a while, their legs intertwined with each other. Y/N shifts around a bit while keeping him close to her. When her thigh brushes up against his crotch, she freezes.

“Are you hard right now?”

“Fuck, um… yeah?” he mumbles into her chest nervously, his face growing hot.

She giggles. “Well, let’s take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, you deserve it.”

She sits up on the bed beside him, while he lays on his back, gazing up at her, melting when she gives him a warm smile. Her hand disappears under the covers, making its slow descent into the waistband of his shorts. He gasps when she gropes him through his briefs.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he admits.

“That’s okay. Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

He nods, gulping as her fingers trace his bulge. Although he sometimes touches himself when he’s home alone during the day or in the shower, it’s never the same as when she does it. The orgasms lack the intensity he craves.

“My poor baby,” she coos, using her other hand to scratch the top of his head. “I haven’t been taking proper care of you. We’re going to fix that this weekend.”

She suddenly removes her hand from his shorts and takes off her shirt, revealing her braless torso. The sight of her gorgeous, round breasts makes his mouth water before she even invites him to suck on them. Moving his head into her lap, he wraps his lips around one nipple and swirls his tongue around the taut flesh.

Her hand ventures back into his shorts, this time slipping into his underwear. Instead of wrapping her whole hand around him, she uses only two fingers and her thumb, running them along his length in slow, gentle strokes that make his body shudder with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? Nothing you do for me goes unnoticed, I promise you,” she says.

The reassurance brings tears to his eyes again but happy ones this time. She wraps the rest of her hand around his cock, picking up the pace and pressure of her strokes. He thrusts his hips into her hand desperately as his orgasm builds. She tells him he can come whenever he’s ready, but he tries to delay it for as long as possible until he can’t any longer. Then he lets himself go, his moans and grunts muffled by her breast.

“There you go. Good boy.” She coaxes the last few drops of come out of him.

He rests his head in her lap afterwards, dazed and breathless, hoping that she’ll let him lay there a little while longer. Luckily, that’s exactly what she does, only moving to rest her back against the headboard to make herself comfortable while keeping his head in her lap, her fingers in his hair. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 3)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Later that day, just as you were waiting for your husband to return home, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety  in your stomach as you thought back to your strange encounter at the Italian grocer earlier that day.

The way the man's eyes had flickered down to the gun hidden beneath Isiah's jacket, before quickly averting his gaze. The memory sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Despite that, you quickly put those thoughts aside as you heard Tommy’s footsteps carrying through the door of Arrow House.

You glanced at the clock hanging in the hallway, realizing that it was already shortly after eight o’clock in the evening.

Thomas walked into the reading room where you were sitting, nursing a glass of wine, the dinner you prepared waiting in the oven to stay warm. He was, still wearing his coat and looked somewhat tired. 

"I am sorry I am late , Love," he greeted you, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Is everything alright?" you asked your husband, concern etched in your voice as you gazed into his tired eyes. You noticed that there were faint lines around his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Yes , everything's fine," Thomas assured you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying not to let your suspicions get the better of you.

"Good. I'll go and serve dinner then," you said, standing up from the sofa and making your way into the kitchen but, just as you stood up, you noticed some red blood stains on the collar of his shirt which he was clearly trying to hide by leaving on his coat.

Nonetheless, you decided not to address it, giving Thomas a reassuring smile before you walked off.

"I should have a shower first, Love. It has been a long day," Thomas told you truthfully in passing, his voice still low but there was a lilt to it, like he was keeping something from you.

"That's fine. Just come down when you are ready," you called after him from the hallway and he gave you a quick nod and a smile before disappearing upstairs.

Minutes later...

The dinner that you had prepared was delicious. The meat had cooked to tender perfection and the rich, earthy flavor of the mushrooms you had picked from the forest earlier that week complemented the dish beautifully. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.

Carefully, you removed the dish from the oven and set it on the table in the nearby dining room, lighting the candles that you had arranged in its center. You had always loved setting a nice table, believing that food always tasted better when it was presented beautifully.

You had spent many hours as a young girl watching your mother, a talented cook, prepare meals for your family. Now, you were proud to use the skills she had taught you.

You had just finished setting the table when Thomas walked into the dining room, his dark hair still damp from his shower. He was wearing a clean white shirt and dark trousers, looking both comfortable and sophisticated. His face was free of stubble and his eyes sparkled with warmth as he looked at you.

"Something smells good," he commented, walking over to where you stood by the table and giving you a kiss.

You blushed, always feeling a little shy when Thomas praised you. 

"Thank you," you responded, making a small curtsy before taking your seat at the table. Thomas chuckled, sitting down across from you and reaching for the glass of whiskey you had already placed in front of him, knowing how much he enjoyed a drink as he dug into the food. 

"I enjoy cooking. In fact, I was thinking about doing some work at the local orphanage. The children there could really do with some decent meals , and it would give me a chance to feel useful," you told Tommy as you served yourself up some food as well, never enjoying the maids doing it for you. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow at this, studying you closely. "You want to work at the orphanage?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your wine. "Yes. I know how much you support local charities and causes. You're always helping people in need, and I want to do my part too."

Thomas smiled at this, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's very thoughtful of you, Love. I'm sure the children will appreciate it," Thomas replied, gazing at you with a softness that made your heart flutter. "But remember, Love, the world can be a dangerous place for a young woman and you, of all people, should know that, eh." 

"It's an orphanage, Tommy. It's not the Garrison," you chuckled, recalling the night he had saved you from a less than favorable situation.  Thomas cocked an eyebrow, his face growing serious.

"I know that, Love. But even so," he began to say, before trailing off, collecting his thoughts. "I will send Isiah with you," he then said, shaking his head and you stared at Thomas for a moment, surprised at the intensity of his words. It was clear that he was deeply concerned for your safety, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his protective nature.

"You are always so worried about me ," you told him with a soft smile, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours. He met your gaze with a steady one of his own and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's my job to worry about you, Love," Thomas replied, his voice low and earnest. "You're my wife, and I want to keep you safe."

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in relative silence, the only sounds being the soft clinking of silverware against china and the occasional sip of whiskey or wine.

Thomas watched you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. He had always been a protective man, although sometimes his methods could be a little unconventional. But you knew that in his heart, he always had your best interests at heart.

As you finished your meal and pushed your plate away, Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave you a small smile. "I have something I want to show you," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. "What is it?" you asked and Thomas smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"It's a surprise, Love," he said, standing up from his chair and offering you his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the dining room and down the hallway to his study. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a soft glow over the large wooden desk that dominated the space. Thomas closed the door behind you and crossed over to the desk, reaching for something behind it.

It was then that you noticed a large painting leaning against the wall, wrapped in thick brown paper.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. Thomas chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Patience, Love," he murmured, carefully unwrapping the painting to reveal an exquisite work of art. It was a portrait of you , a stunningly accurate depiction of your likeness, down to the last detail. Your eyes were wide with surprise as you took in the image of yourself, feeling a little self-conscious under Thomas' intense gaze.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, reaching out to touch the canvas. The brushstrokes were delicate and precise, capturing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your smile. You had never seen anything quite like it before.

"I had it commissioned as a wedding present," Thomas explained, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wanted something to celebrate the woman you are, and the woman you're becoming."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, filling your heart with a sense of love and pride. You had never felt so cherished, so adored. It was an incredible feeling, one that left you breathless and overwhelmed.

You stood there, hand still resting on the painting, heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Thomas' eyes. You could see the raw desire burning in his gaze, the hunger that told you he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas stepped closer to you.

His hand reached out, gently grasping a tendril of your hair, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Thomas growled, his breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless.

"Tommy ," you gasped, your voice barely audible as his hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before cupping your breasts over your dress.

"Yes, Love?" Thomas murmured against your lips, his thumb teasing your nipples through the fabric until they hardened beneath his touch.

You moaned softly, arching your back into his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrilling.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as the hunger inside of you grew stronger.

"I want you, Tommy," you whispered hoarsely, your breath hot against his ear.

Thomas responded with a growl, his hands tugging at your dress until it slid down to your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your lacy underwear.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Thomas groaned, taking a step back to drink in the sight of you. "And you are mine," he added possessively, reaching out to trace the curve of your hip with his fingertips.

You shivered at his touch, feeling a pulse of desire low in your belly. You had never felt so desired, so wanted before. It was intoxicating.

"Yes, I'm yours," you whispered, reaching out to touch him in turn. Your hands found their way to his belt, the metal buckle cool against your skin as you undid it and slid it free from its loops.

Thomas groaned as you began to undo the buttons of his trousers, revealing the hard length of his cock beneath.

"Fuck, Love," Thomas gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You pulled him forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone and trailing kisses down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt and sank to your knees before him all at the same time.

The scent of him was musky and intoxicating, and you couldn't resist the urge to take him into your mouth.

"I have never done this before," you confessed, looking up at him with shy, yet eager eyes.

Thomas' expression softened at the admission, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek. "I know , Love," he murmured. "I'll guide you." And with those words, you opened your mouth eagerly, waiting for him to make the first move.

Your tongue darted out, teasing his tip and tasting his pre-cum as it leaked out. Thomas moaned deeply, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper, urging you to taste more of him.

You complied eagerly, exploring every inch of him with your mouth as Thomas thrust gently into your throat. Your hands wandered up to his toned ass, pulling him closer as you sucked and licked with abandon.

Thomas' breath hitched as you drew back, gasping for air before sliding back down on him once more.

"Good girl ," Thomas grunted, guiding your head back down onto him.

You could feel the trembling in his legs as you worked him with your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure building to a peak.

"I'm going to cum, Love," Thomas warned, his voice low and strained. "Do you think you can swallow it?" Thomas asked, his voice tight with anticipation. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and nodded eagerly.

"Good girl," he praised you before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pumping his hips faster.

You worked your mouth up and down his shaft, feeling the throbbing of his cock intensify until finally, Thomas thrust deep into your throat and held it there as he came hard. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could, feeling the hot streams of cum coat your tongue before spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

You felt a sense of pride wash over you as you took it all in, Thomas's hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

Finally, with one last gasp, Thomas pulled out, his cock sliding free from your mouth with a wet, sucking sound. You looked up at him with a sense of accomplishment and longing, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

Thomas reached down and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment.

His eyes were soft, filled with love and admiration. You blushed under his gaze, feeling both proud and self-conscious at the same time.

"God, you're beautiful," Thomas murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "And so fucking sexy."

Your blush deepened at the compliment, but you didn't look away. Instead, you reached up and took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. Thomas smiled at the gesture, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as he looked down at you with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Come here," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you."

You stood up, stepping closer to Thomas as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the evidence of your earlier efforts still slick against your thighs. The combined scent of him and of yourself left you heady, intoxicated by the smell of raw, unbridled sexuality.

His mouth found yours again, his lips claiming yours in a bruising kiss that left you breathless and trembling in his arms.

"I always wanted you to do things to me, on this big desk of yours," you giggled nervously  , your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Thomas's grin deepened, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.

"Then what are you waiting for, Love?" He murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You didn't need any more encouragement than that. Within seconds, you had pulled your underwear down your legs and climbed up onto the desk, positioning yourself so that your ass was right at the edge.

"So fucking perfect ," Thomas growled, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of you spread out before him, ready and willing.

You felt a rush of heat flood your body, the thought of being so exposed heightening your arousal to new heights.

Thomas reached out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist before moving up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending pulses of pleasure straight to your core.

You moaned softly, arching your back and pressing yourself into his touch.

Thomas' mouth found yours again, his lips silencing your cries as his fingers continued to tease your nipples.

"You like that, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice low and sultry.

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. "Please, Thomas."

Thomas grinned at the plea, his fingers leaving your breasts to trace a path down your stomach and towards the apex of your thighs.

"God, you're so fucking wet for me," Thomas groaned against your mouth, his fingers brushing through your folds before delving deep within you.

You gasped, your back arching off the desk as Thomas began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. Each stroke hit a spot deep within you, driving you wild with pleasure.

"Please Love, let me cum inside you ," Thomas groaned, his breath hot against your ear.

"No , I- I can't," you gasped, feeling the familiar fluttering deep within your belly.

"Please ," Thomas begged as, finally, he aligned himself with your wetness and thrust into you with one swift push, but you knew that if you let Thomas cum inside of you, there was a chance you could end up pregnant. And with your life the way it was, the last thing you needed right now was a child.

You shook your head, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your husband bottomed out inside of you.

God, he felt amazing. But you knew that this was as far as you could go.\

"I am sorry," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas began to thrust his hips against yours, driving himself in deep and hard. "I-I can't. I'm sorry."

But Thomas seemed to understand.

"It's alright, Love," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tender hand. "I'll just make a mess instead," he chuckled in between groans as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Your nails dug into the desk, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Thomas's hips snapped against yours, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of you.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your pelvis bucking to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

Thomas growled at the demand and obliged, his cock pounding into you with bruising force. You cried out, throwing your head back and bracing yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic, his breaths coming in short panting gasps.

"Fuck, I'm close Love," he groaned, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You nodded frantically, feeling your own pleasure coiling deep within you. "Yes, yes," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as your own orgasm built within you.

Your nails dug into the surface of the desk even harder now as Thomas continued to drive into you with an almost brutal force. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, your breasts bouncing in time with each stroke.

"Yes, Tommy! Oh god , I'm gonna cum!" You screamed as your orgasm tore through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic as he too, found his release, his hot seed filling the air around you as he pulled out and used his hand to finish the job.

You collapsed back onto the desk, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Thomas leaned over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he caught his own breath.

"Fuck, Love," he groaned before, suddenly, you were being interrupted by one of the maids.

The sound of a knock on the door broke through your haze of pleasure, and Thomas quickly pulled away from you with an annoyed expression on his face. You each gathered your clothes and Thomas barked, not bothering to conceal his irritation at being interrupted in the middle of such an intimate moment.

The maid, a young girl with mousy brown hair and a pinched expression on her face, looked at the ground as she spoke, knowing exactly what you had been doing, 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a matter that needs your immediate attention."

Thomas sighed heavily and rubbed his temples with his fingers. he asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

"It's the new shipment of whiskey, sir," the maid replied nervously. "The delivery driver says it was damaged during transport, and he refuses to hand it over until you inspect it yourself."

The maid's statement caught Tommy by surprise. "Y/N, go upstairs!" he ordered you in a way he had not spoken to you before.

"Excuse me?" you asked, annoyed with the way Thomas had spoken to you. You were still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm and, frankly, the last thing you wanted was him to snap at you like this. It was unlike him. 

Thomas let out a long-suffering sigh. "I am sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like this, but I need you to go upstairs and stay there. Please," he added as an afterthought, his voice softening.

"Fine ," you muttered, annoyance tingeing your voice as you slid off the desk and started to pull your panties back on, pulling them up beneath your dress. 

You couldn't help but feel irritated at the interruption, even more so at the tone Thomas had used with you. 

But you shook it off, reminding yourself that Thomas wasn't like that. He cared for you deeply, and you cared for him just as much. Maybe he was just having a stressful day.

When you arrived in the bedroom you shared with Tommy now however, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on. A whiskey delivery at 10 o'clock seemed absurd and, with that in mind, you pulled aside the curtains and peaked out of the window .

Tommy was already standing outside, talking to a somewhat scary looking truck driver. But something was off. Tommy looked tense, his shoulders rigid and his expression stern.

The driver seemed to be making wild gestures, his hands waving around erratically as he spoke. And then, you saw it when the stranger opened one of the boxes on the back of his truck.

Inside there was no whiskey however, but instead, you saw something black, something that looked like rifles. A lot of rifles.  Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Was this some kind of arms deal? And if so, why would Thomas be involved in something like that?

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[gatorlovebot]

honesty

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: john doesn't like liars. wc: 2.4k warnings: overstimualtion, penetration. a/n: this was supposed to be just a quick little thing about you faking an orgasm for price...and then i started projecting. whoops!

The one thing John Price has always asked of you is honesty. It’s not a hard thing to do when he’s so good at sussing out lies. 

Like when he’s been on a mission for just a little too long and you’ve just had one of the worst days in recent memory. Over the phone you tell him, “Oh, my day was fine, that project at work is coming along nicely.”

“Love.” He stops you. 

“What?” You croak out over the other line, your resolve dropping with each passing second.

“Come on, sweetheart, give us the truth.” His voice is so deep and warm and just like that you’re folding yourself up in your worn couch cushions as your voice warbles across the line. Stuttering and hiccuping as you begin to explain that your day was not fine and that your boss keeps giving you more and more tasks with less and less time to complete each one and that you just really fucking miss him. 

He coos at you and tells you to slow down in that gentle yet commanding way he always does when your emotions start getting too big for you to talk through. He praises you for getting through the day and thanks you for even being on the phone with him. Guilt tugs at his shoulders, something in his brain telling him to let you go so you can unwind and relax on your own. But the selfish part of him always seems to win everytime - he always wants to be the one to hear your cries and chase them away with the smooth timber of his voice.

He can’t help himself to make a quip about your boss, “Overworking you like tha’, ya’ know - I could easily find his address, maybe show up at his place-”

“No, John,” You whine, “I need this job.”

“ No, you don’t, you can just stay-”

“John,” You interject as sternly as you can be with him to try to stop the conversation you two have had hundreds of times. 

“Sweetheart,” He starts, the pause making you think he was going to continue, going to push you just a little bit more, but all he says is, “Thanks for being honest.”

John had been home from a mission for a couple days and since then you’ve found yourself in this position too many times to even count. You on your back, legs high up on John’s shoulders as he connects you two by the hips. His breathing is heavy as he pumps himself into your wet cunt, his presence all encompassing. 

You’d come home from work a few hours prior, your first day back at the office since taking a few days off to really savor and enjoy your time with John. Your first day back had been just as bad as every other day at the office. The only thing holding you together was knowing that Price would be waiting for you when you got home.

Your home was warm and smelt delicious as you entered. Kicking off your shoes and shucking off your jacket to the sounds of John in the kitchen. The table was set and you turned to look in the kitchen  to see John pulling a pan out of the oven. “Oh, welcome home.” He must not have heard you come in over the sound of a record blaring from the record player he had tucked away on the counter. He put the pan down on the stove and turned the music down as he made his way over to you. You go easily into his arms as he engulfs you with his body. You nuzzle your face into his chest, taking in the scent of the deep green henley he was wearing - your laundry detergent and his natural musk. 

After a long, long moment he finally shoos you out of the kitchen to sit at the dining table as he plates up everything in the kitchen. Dinner is phenomenal - as always when John cooks. You're not bad in the kitchen but nothing you come up with for yourself is as good as what John makes for you when he’s home. 

After dinner you force John to let you help clean up with him in the kitchen. Once the leftovers are put in the fridge and the dishes are all put away he leads you back out of the kitchen again and sits you down on the couch. “Oh, so tense, sweetheart.” He coos at you as he pulls you closer to him and gets his big, rough hands on your shoulders. “What’s got my sweet girl so tense, huh?”

All you can do is hum as you melt into his hands. You hear him chuckle to himself behind you, “Don’t worry, love, I got ‘ya.”

Over time his hands start to wander from your shoulders down your back to fidget with the waistband of your pants. It’s you who decides to break the tension, skin feeling hot from his hands as you turn to face him, “Take me to bed, Captain.”

And that’s how you end up here, on your back, John above you and your orgasm feeling so close but just not close enough. It makes you feel awful. John had this perfect night for you and you couldn’t just shut your brain off for once. Time kept stretching by and you know John, know that his goal is to always make you cum first before he even thinks about himself. He usually has no problem at making you a wet, trembling mess but tonight you felt like it was just too far out of reach and the guilt was starting to settle in your stomach. You just wanted him to cum, to finally make him feel as good as he made you feel. It’s hard to think through the sounds of his hot grunts but you decide a little white lie is worth it for John. But he’s very good at reading you, almost too good. And he’s really good at pulling different kinds of orgasms out of you. Like when the way his cock slides against your walls takes you by surprise and your mouth drops open on a silent gasp and all you can do is look up at him with big, wet watery eyes and wonder how someone could make you feel this good. Or when he’s on his way to giving you your fourth orgasm and you can barely keep your eyes open and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth as you pant like a fucking dog in heat. You almost feel bad at the way your sensitive pussy attempts to clench around his cock but he still leans down to whisper, “Good girl.” in your ear. 

You settle for something a little less dramatic, though. You allow your hands to trail up his back to pull him closer to you so he’s not looking directly at your face. You grind your hips to meet his thrusts as you whisper out, “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, love?”

“Yes,” You whimper out emphatically and tack on a sultry moan for good measure before you try your best to clench your walls around his cock. You force yourself to tremble against the sheets underneath him but before you’re finished with your performance he’s sitting up and pulling out of you. 

“What the fuck was that?” He questioned, his face pulled into a confused expression.

Fuck. You’ve been caught. And you should just fess up to faking it so he - “What do you mean? I just came.”

He pulls himself back down to lean over you again, big body blanketing yours. “When you cum,” His voice is dark and low right by your ear, “You greedy little cunt tightens down on me so hard it feels like you’re trying to break my cock off to keep it inside you.”

Unfortunately for you, he’s not wrong. He sits back up again on his heels and before your brain can catch up and form a reply he’s pointing at your glistening cunt, “Whatever that was, was fucking pathetic.”

You gasp at the insult as shame burns in your chest. “John, I’m sorry.” You plead, your voice sounding pitiful even to your own ears. “I just - I just couldn’t make it happen but I really wanted you to cum.”

You couldn’t tell if he was even listening to your weak little ramble because he was leaning over the side of the bed, rooting around in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You watch him pull out your vibrating wand, something you really only use when John is gone on a mission and you need quick relief. He’s not even looking at you, too busy looking at the buttons on the wand. His face is hardset and his eyes are dark and you know he’s not actually mad at you but you can’t help the nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “John, are you mad at me?”

He finally looks back down at you where you’re still nestled in the pillows. His face is significantly softer as he simply states, “No.” He looks at you purposefully before dropping the toy next to you on the bed and leans back down over you again. Early on in your relationship you had mentioned to him that for whatever reason, being close to him made you feel more comfortable and at ease talking about your feelings and he’s never forgotten it. 

“Making you cum is my favorite thing, why would you deny me that?”

“John, I’m not denying you, I didn’t do it to hurt you or anything. I did it-”

“You did it because you wanted me to feel good, I know.” He cuts you off. “But I don’t give a shit about me. You want me to feel good? You let me make you feel good.” 

He declares it like it's all so simple. And you realize that it is that simple. John Price is a lot of things. He’s stubborn when he wants to be. Sometimes a little too intense, been a bit too crass a time or two. But John Price is a giver. He takes care of his people first and that’s one of the many things you love about him.

Too lost in your own thoughts for John’s liking you feel him start to paw at your waist, pulling your hips into the cradle of his own. He nuzzles his face along your neck, nosing behind your ear so he can whisper into your skin, “Please, sweet girl, let me take care of you. Let me provide for you.”

“Let me provide for you.”

It hits you deep in your gut and tickles an itch in your brain - the one that always says, “Just quit your job and let John take care of you, he’s so good at it.” 

His words have you begging in an instant, “Yes, John, please, take care of me.” You plead.

His grip on you tightens as he rumbles against your skin, obviously pleased with your response. “Thank you, love.” He whispers, “Now, you just got to promise me not to lie about this shit again.”

“I promise,” You whimper out as he sits up again.

“Good girl,” He praises before picking up the wand again. “For your honesty and vulnerability I think you deserve a reward.” He says cheekily, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clicks the vibe on. You watch, entranced, as he brings the wand down gently on your sensitive clit. You jolted at the shock of pleasure, having forgotten how powerful its vibrations were while letting out little shocked, “Oh my god”s. 

“Yeah, ya’ like that?” John teases down at you, “How about I give you something else?” He asks as you feel one of his fingers sink into your wet cunt. The vibe relentless on your clit and his finger dragging along that sensitive spot in your pussy has you writhing on his fingers in pleasure. Just minutes ago you were throwing in the towel when it came to reaching your high and now it felt like it was coming out of nowhere. 

As your stomach clenches and you feel pleasure zip up your thighs you feel a pang of panic - what if it will feel like too much? “John,” You gasp, “I can’t do it-”

“No, no, you got this,” He reassures you in that deep, soothing voice, “just hold on to me.”

And you do, reaching out to grasp his muscled forearm as your orgasm finally rips through you, bringing tears to your eyes at its intensity. You barely register John’s voice but it makes your gut twist in a delicious way, “There she is, that’s my girl.”

He clicks the vibe off and extracts his finger from your weeping cunt. He gathers you up in his arms, cradling you in his lap as you catch your breath. Even with an orgasm that good you were still craving more - craving him.

“Please, John.” You beg into his shoulder.

“Please, what, love? Just tell me and I’ll give it to ya’.” His words sounded almost frantic.

“Fuck me, John.”

The noise he makes in your ear is almost a growl as he lifts you higher in his lap to sink you down on his cock. You moan in tandem as your walls wrap deliciously around him. His thrusts are brutal, rocking you up and down in his lap and even with how sensitive you are you wouldn’t have it any other way. His cock glides across all your sensitive spots just right and when you bare down on him it makes your clit throb. He reaches down your body to place a big thumb on your clit, pressure sending you over the edge once again.

You tremble in his arms as he keeps you up, muttering, “Yeah, clench that cunt, make me cum.”

You hear him grunt as you feel his cock pulse within your walls, wet and warm, groaning through his orgasm. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he lays you back down against the soft sheets. “So,” He starts, still winded, “what did we learn about lying?”

“Um,” You pretend to think, “if I lie, you’ll fuck me really good?”

“No!” He barks out a laugh, making your heart sing, before he pinches your thigh, leaning down to swallow your surprised yelp in a searing kiss. 

When you pull away after a long, languid moment he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “Thank you for making me be honest.” You blurt out.

His responding little smile makes you feel warm all the way to your bones. “Thanks for letting me take care of ya’.”

[goqmir]

if you want to be a chef in this day and age you have to want to fuck the food. it used to be that you could get away with just desiring food-related sex-- in western saloons in the late 1800s, for instance, there were often gouges in the floorboards leading from the cook's favorite lovemaking bedroom in the inn to the nightly spot laid out for the salad bar trolley. Now, though, you have to have sexual urges about the food itself. If you don't, you will be easily outclassed by those overworked bakers who stop for condoms on the way home after they score some extra jelly-filled pastries from work, or the Michelin star chefs who have hours of mac and cheese stirring ASMR saved in a YouTube playlist. They simply want the food more than you do. Every chef with a decent career in the fine dining world has that not-so-hidden secret. If you can afford it, expensive dishes usually have wonderful texture-- just ask Gordon Ramsey and his fridge full of crab puffs-- but if you can't, I would recommend first starting out with something affordable you can easily keep on hand, with little preparation time and a decent texture. Of course, not all beginning chefs follow this advice-- a lot of dedicated chefs attempt to start fucking the food after learning about this subculture, leading to an alarming number of juice fetishists in the sous chef workforce. Unfortunately, many learn too late that you need substance in your food-- some decent texture to rub against-- or you won't get the same experience with food you need in the industry. By that time, of course, the juice kink has set in-- if you see a sous chef pouring apple cider into a pot of mac and cheese, you don't have to ask what it's adding to the flavor profile. A lot of popular picks are easy to reheat in the microwave, not quick to perish, and give a decent enough texture to be satisfying. A common pick is simply bread; filled donuts offer a pleasant pocket and satisfying orgasms; muffins are thick enough where working a hole from its bottom to its top is not only possible, but expected; almost all of the kitchen staff at Red Lobster leaves for the night with a few extra-soft biscuits in their bags. Others have more interesting taste: melty cheeses, the pointiest carrots and pineapples, the claws of lobsters, the most decadent helpings of whipped-cream topped parfaits. This all works fine for a number of years, until you notice your skill as a chef starting to plateau. Many chefs simply stay in this zone, as well enough preparers living happy lives at good jobs. But the best chefs, the headliners, those who prepare the best meals the world has to offer... they take it to the next level. They spend a good, long time preparing the dish they are covering in their cum up to four nights a week. Hours of baking, broiling, dirtied pots and pans. The food preparation is like foreplay, one of the most creative parts of sex and cooking alike. A good chef gets hotter with the pasta in the pot, sizzles along with the eggs in the pan, finds themselves on edge with each slice of the potato into the crock. Until finally, hours into the night, cock hard like a lamppost, after dicking down that beautifully prepared pasta frittata since the sun was still up, they orgasm all across its gorgeous pasta fillings and creamy cheesey insides and finally Understand food. After learning all of this, you may be tempted to go down to your neighborhood spot and ask the chef what they do to deepen the connection between themselves and their meals. Of course, if the neighborhood spot happens to be a bar, you'll probably actually have a line cook-- where instead, you should probably ask what they like most about putting their cigarettes out on twinks.

[ciaonicole85]

Part 2: What Then?

I promise I have a life, but I couldn't help writing part 2 today! This takes place the same day as the "Development Day" when Syd and Carmy are thrown off by each other's answers during an ice breaker activity. Post-season 2. Feel-good fluff.

Photo Credit @drrav3nb /  drrav3nb.tumblr.com

"So those are the menu changes for Chicago Restaurant Week. If you have questions, feel free to ask me or Chef Sydney. You should also have an email from Natalie by later today. Okay, let's prep for night service!"

Carmy closed the meeting, grateful that it was finally over. He was no longer afraid of public speaking after rising in the ranks of various kitchens, but his mind was not in this ever since the ice breaker. He, Carmen Berzatto, had made Sydney's favorite meal ever? The last time he prepared the pork confit and the Milk and Honey dishes she mentioned was several years ago. Back then he was at Eleven Madison Park, a rising star on the culinary scene, who chain-smoked, slept 3 hours a night, and was berated by the EC daily. It was a nightmare peppered with flashes of genius. He was dying to ask her about it, but before he could get her attention Sydney had slipped into the kitchen.

He stared disappointed at the window that separated the dining area and kitchen.

"Hey Bear, what's up with you?" Richie said sidling up to him trying to follow his gaze.

"Nothing cousin."

"Yeah, right. I missed when it happened, but it seems like you crashed and had to reboot during the meeting. Then you were lost in Sydney-land. Want to talk about it?"

Carmy rubbed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair. When he used both hands, Richie knew without a doubt he had hit on something.

"First, cool it about Syd. That handout you gave us was really cute. And yes, there's something on my mind, but it's not for me to say."

Richie grinned and rubbed Carmy's shoulder.

"Fine, just get your head together because tonight is going to be loaded and it includes three anniversaries and a birthday. And second, you need to cool it about her or do something. It's like I'm living in The Wonder Years with Kevin and Winnie."

"What?"

"Oh, right. That's probably before your time. Kids!"

With that Richie sauntered over to the host stands to strategize with the wait staff and hosts.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sydney who had a thousand things to do, was adding at least a hundred more onto her plate. She didn't want to appear like she had a moment to spare. She and Carmy could talk at the end of the night as usual, without any eavesdropping. This would also give her time to think of an explanation as to why she never mentioned eating at Eleven Madison Park and that she wasn't a stalker who followed him to The Beef. To top off this awkward sundae, Carmy casually admitted his favorite part of the day was closing, the only time they are alone every day. She hoped no one else had connected the dots on that last part.

The afternoon and the night never went quicker to her chagrin. Even when one of the line cooks was sent home due to illness and a large group put in an order for 7 Fishes two minutes before tickets closed, she thought the night couldn't last long enough. Fortunately, Carmy seemed resigned to waiting and didn't look at her more than usual. In a flash service was over and no one was in the mood to hang around. By 11:00pm Sydney had cleaned her station for the third time and forced herself to go to Carm's office. He sat there pretending to do busy work, patiently waiting like a child who consoled himself that his parents wouldn't make him wait too long to open his Christmas presents.

"Hey Syd...it was a good night," he said softly not wanting to scare her away.

Sydney nodded and took a seat. Might as well get it over with it.

"Okay, yes. You made the best meal I've ever had. During a break at the CIA, I went to NYC and ate everywhere on my list, including Eleven Madison Park. It was a Wednesday night and I ordered several things including pork confit and Milk and Honey."

Sydney couldn't help closing her eyes and smiling at the memory. Her guard began to slip.

"Carm, it was like tasting my future and the best part of my past at the same time. I asked the waiter who made those dishes and he said Carmen Berzatto."

Carmen leaned forward on the desk. Whenever Sydney praised him, he felt like a cactus in an unexpected downpour. He wouldn't waste a single word. Her sunny existence and her belief in him sustained him during his dry seasons. He reached for her whenever he looked at the debt they still owed Uncle Cicero, when his mother finally visited The Bear and cried saying that he had erased Mikey, and even when their success seemed too good to be true. 

Sydney opened her eyes to find him looking at her in the way he had. It was terrifying because she had a very specific plan for her career. It also thrilled her, knowing the power she had over him. Five months ago, she had been begging for his focus and now she knew every her mood, glance, and word she spoke impacted him. Once for the fun of it during a slow night she stared at him until she drew his attention and smiled. He blushed, smiled back, came towards her without saying "corner", and crashed into one of the servers, sending three Michael cannoli to the floor. That was three months ago when she first realized something was going on with him. She'd refused to abuse her power since, going so far as to convince herself that she was overestimating his feelings. Then he said the best part of his day was closing. She hoped, well sort of hoped, that they could maintain this close, but not too close partnership and friendship without complications.

After a long pause Carmen sighed and sat back in his chair.

"So, how did you find me?"

"Well, like I said when we met, it was the job posting. I recognized your name and also The Beef from my dad taking me here."

She shrugged thoughtfully.

"It felt like it was meant to be. It gave me hope for the first time since Sheridan went under."

He nodded.

"It's really strange. You came here because I inspired you and the only reason, I felt capable of attempting something this big was because of you" he said gesturing to the ceiling.

"Yeah?" Sydney whispered.

"Yeah."

He stood up and walked around to sit on the desk facing her. Now, Sydney felt vulnerable looking up at him. It was so easy for him to unnerve her when he spoke this way, like under the table.

Carmy took one her hands and after a moment brought it to his lips.

"Thank you for telling me, Syd. It means a lot."

Sydney was unable to speak. Her throat had closed.

"Soon, is your one year work anniversary and I think we should celebrate."

She nodded.

Carmy set her hand down.

"It's late. I'll drive you home."

With that they left the office, gathered their stuff, and walked to his car in silence.

As they drove, Sydney attempted to talk herself down. Was that hand kiss, an Italian thing? Possibly. It also seemed like Carmy decided to do...something, but what? Worse, she was feeling like they had traded positions in mere seconds. She'd enjoyed having the upper hand. Oh, well. With a goodnight's rest she'd be back in form tomorrow. Maybe "accidentally" brush past him, or ask him to lift something heavy for her and comment on his strength. Then it would be game over for poor Carmy bear. For now, she wouldn't worry about the work anniversary. It was probably just going to be a cake Carm commissioned Marcus to bake.

Probably.    

[yelenasdiary]

https://www.tumblr.com/yelenasdiary/723061122898477056/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-line-of-dialogue-and-ill?source=share

“I just really need to have you here right now.”

Maybe reader was about to give birth? And she wants Yelena on her side.

Military!Yelena x Reader

-👸

Coming Home

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: Being married to a soldier and expecting your first child wasn’t easy but you coped.

Angst | Fluff | Mentions of War | Pregnancy | Childbirth | AU Where Doctors Can Combined 2 Women’s Genetics | 2.6K |

Translations: printsessa (princess),

AC: This is literally the only variant of Yelena that I can see having a child and as always, I used the wheel of names to pick the gender! I hope you enjoy this! x 

As a nurse, you knew the symptoms and you knew it was best to get a second opinion before letting yourself get excited and sharing the news with your wife. So, when your doctor returned with your tests results and a comforting smile, it was no surprise that your eyes began to fill with tears. 

"Are you okay Mrs Belova?" your doctor asked, unsure if the news something good or bad. You grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped your tears while nodding, "I'm just fine" you smiled, "I'm just very happy" you added. Your doctor smiled, "you had me worried for a moment" she chuckled, "go home, tell your wife. I will make a follow up appointment within a few weeks for a check-up and to make sure everything is going smoothly" she added with a smile, you nodded again as you stood from your chair. 

"Thank you so much, for everything!" You shook her hand. 

"Congratulations" your doctor smiled once more as she shook your hand. 

The whole drive home your mind was racing on how you wanted to tell Yelena the news. Getting to this moment wasn't easy and it took a lot of work and time, but you wouldn't change any of it for the world. Opening the door to your home, you were greeted with the smell of a roast dinner and your two dogs running from the living room to greet you. 

Fanny and Gizmo wagged their tails like crazy as you greeted them with excitement. Fanny was the first dog you and Yelena adopted while Gizmo was a rescue dog that Yelena brought back from one of her deployments. It took a little time for Gizmo to warm up to you and Fanny, but it's been three years since she was brought home and now she's inseparable from Fanny. 

"Mmm" you hummed as you entered the kitchen, "dinner smells amazing" you added as Yelena turned around and smiled before gently pulling you in for a kiss. "I wanted to give you a break from cooking" she replied but something in her tone of voice told you she was hiding something. 

"Is that all?" you asked, giving her a soft smile. Her eyes dropped as she ran her tongue over her lips, "I've gotta go back" she admits and just like that, worry took over your once excited mind. "But you just got back" you frowned slightly, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck. Being married to a soldier was never going to be easy, you knew that but when she got back, you knew you'd have some time with her before the next deployment. 

"I know, but they need me" Yelena replied, looking into your eyes. You could see she was also disappointed. You kissed her once more while playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck, "I need to tell you something" you spoke softly not wanting that excitement to fade away so quickly. 

"What's wrong?" Yelena asked with worry in her tone. You led her to the dining room and sat across from her, your original plan on how you wanted to tell her the news was no longer a thought. You reached for her hands and smiled softly at her touch. "Baby is everything okay?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for an answer.

"Everything is fine my love, but, when I tell you this, I want you to know I'm telling you because I want too, not because you have to go back, okay?" 

Yelena nodded without saying a word, her full attention was on you. 

"I wasn't out just now having a coffee with a co-worker" you admitted, your stomach fluttered with nerves. "I was at the doctors; I had a couple of tests done and they all came back positive" you added. 

Yelena's eyes shot open and a smile tugged at her lips causing you to smile widely at her as tears filled your eyes once more, "I'm pregnant" the words flew out of your mouth. Yelena jumped from her seat before rushing over to you and picking you up in her arms making you squeal. 

"How far along are you?" your wife asked when she gently placed you back on your feet.

"I'm 6 weeks, I just wanted to be 100% sure before I said anything" 

"And you're feeling okay? Everything is okay? What did the doctor say?" All these questions came flying out of her mouth making you giggle at her excitement. 

"I'm fine, some morning sickness here and there but I'm good, everything is good, we have an appointment for our first ultrasound in 2 weeks"

Yelena sighed, "I won't be here" 

You cupped her face gently, placing a kiss on her forehead, "I know baby, but it's okay because I'll get a tape of it and we can watch it over and over when you come home"

Yelena nodded, even though the thought of not being there for the first ultrasound disappointed her, she didn't let that take away the happiness and feeling of joy she was having right now. 

----

It's been three months since Yelena was deployed again, the two of you spoke every chance you got, and you updated her on everything about the pregnancy so far. You had decided it was best for you and the baby to step down from your military duties as a nurse and continue to work at the veteran's clinic. The decision also gave Yelena peace of mind that you were safe. 

At 12 weeks, Yelena was bursting to tell Nat about the news. You knew the moment she had told her older sister because Natasha would come to see you every day to make sure you were doing okay and if you needed anything. You didn't mind as much because you knew this was how Yelena was able to protect you from anything being so far away. 

You were waiting at the airport with your hand gently resting on your 5-month showing bump when Yelena came walking out of the arrivals with the softest smile on her lips. She dropped her bag at her feet and wrapped her arms around you instantly, hugging you tightly but not too tight of course. "I missed you so much!" you whispered while tears of happiness filled your eyes. 

Yelena pulled back slightly and wiped your tears before she found both of her hands on your stomach, "I missed you both" she smiled, placing a kiss on your lips, "the webcam didn't do you justice, you're so beautiful" she spoke. You couldn't help but raise a brow, "is that you saying I look bigger in person?" you asked with a playful smirk. Yelena's eyes shot open for a moment as she shook her head, "n-no" she replied before chuckling. 

"You're lucky I love you" you jokingly rolled your eyes, "I have a surprise for you and we have about an hour to get there" you added. Yelena looked at you slightly confused, "what have you done?" she asked. 

"Well, I asked to push back my last ultrasound until today, I have footage of the others for us to watch tonight but I thought we could found out the sex today, together" you explained. 

"You want to know the sex? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Baby, you haven't been able to be there for the others and I want to experience this one with you as our first. I only have you home for a few days before you go back an-" you paused trying to fight back your tears. Since falling pregnant, you've found yourself crying a lot more easily than before. "I w-want you to k-know what we're having in case som-"

"Hey" Yelena pulled you into her chest as she rubbed your back. It was clear now that this was something that had been on your mind for some time and Yelena wasn't sure on how to ease your mind. She placed a kiss on the top of your head before gently making you look up at her, "I'm glad you want to know the sex because I don't think I could wait, even if I wanted too" she said with another soft smile as she wiped your tears once again. "Come on, we don't want to be late" she added before picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. 

Yelena's eyes were glued to the small black and white screen as the doctor took down some notes. "That's our baby" Yelena smiled proudly, you brought her hand to your lips, kissing the top of her hand as she watched every movement the unborn baby was doing. 

"Would you two like to know the sex?" the doctor looked at you both, the two of you nodded with excitement before the room filled with silence as the doctor doubled checked everything. Yelena squeezed your hand with excitement when the doctor looked at you both again. 

"Congratulations, you're having a baby girl" she smiled. 

----

Yelena went back for a month while she carried out her duties before requesting time off to be there for you during the remainder of your pregnancy. It wasn't easy for her to get the time off but given how loyal she is to her duties; she was given the time off and a little extra. 

You took maternity leave from work and were soaking up the time you now had with your wife, the two of you decorated the nursery, painting the walls in a lavender like purple and Yelena put together the crib while you placed family photos on the walls. Everything was going well until Yelena was called to go back, this time it was urgent but of course, to keep you from worrying she kept that detail to herself. 

Now here you were, in the middle of your 8th month of pregnancy waving off your wife while Natasha and Kate stood beside you. 

"She'll be home before you know it" Nat spoke in hopes to comfort you, but you shook your head at her words, "you don't know that" you replied before making your way back to the car. 

The last few weeks of your pregnancy you thought would be very different, but you found yourself preparing your bag for the hospital alone, getting nervous about giving birth and making sure you everything was ready for when you brought home your daughter. Natasha decided to come stay with you for the remainder of your pregnancy, but it wasn't the same, you wanted your wife, you needed her. 

Your water broke around 10:15pm on a Friday night as you were gently rubbing your swollen stomach and talking to your unborn baby about her mama and how much you missed her and wish she was here right now. Natasha took you to the hospital and waited by your side. 

"I need to call Lena" you looked to Natasha who nodded, "we'll try her and see if she picks up" she replied as she pulled her phone from her back pocket. 

"Natasha, is everything okay?!" 

"Y/n wants to talk to you, can you talk?" 

"Yeah, of course, put her on"

Nat handed you the phone and stepped out of the room to give you some privacy. 

"Lena?"

"Hey darling, I got Natasha's messages, how you are you doing? How's our printsessa?"

"We're okay for now, a few contractions here and there but the midwife says I still have a few centimetres to go before they'll take me to the delivery room. I need to know you're okay, that you're going to come home" 

"Baby, I need you to focus on you and our beautiful girl. I'm fine, I'm not going anywhere, okay?" 

"I just really need to have you here right now"

"I know baby, I'm here, I promise"

"But you're not Lena! You're over there, you should be here by my side" 

"I am darling, I'm going to stay on the phone the whole time & I know it's not the same, I wish I could be there, I'd do anything to be there right now"

Yelena was right, it wasn't the same but knowing you still had her somehow, made things seem just a little better. 

----

After hours of labor, your daughter finally came into the world, screaming and healthy. You heard a quiet sob on the other end of the phone when your daughters first cries entered the world, you knew she was just a happy as you were, and you couldn't wait for Yelena to meet her. 

Natasha smiled at her sister when she entered the waiting room of the hospital, "about time!" she teased the blonde. 

"Getting a flight home was hell, how is she?" Yelena placed her bag on the empty chair besides Natasha. 

"She did amazing, she's resting now" 

"and th-"

"She's perfect, I haven't seen her yet but the midwife told me she arrived healthy and with a set of lungs" Natasha interrupted her sister. Yelena smiled softly, her original plan was to surprise you and be here just in time for the birth but sometimes things just don't work that way but she was just happy she was here now. "Why haven't you seen her yet?" Yelena asked. 

"She deserves to meet her mama first before she meets me and knows that I'm her cool aunt and she won't ever tell you but, I'll be her favourite" she replied with a smirk causing Yelena to raise a brow, "Ha!" she fake chuckled at her sister's joke before the room went silent. 

"Well? What are you waiting for? Go!" Natasha gave Yelena a gently push towards the room you were in, "Room 4, I'll be here" she added before sitting back down next to Yelena's bag. 

When Yelena entered your room, she couldn't help but smile softly to herself when she saw you fast asleep. She wandered over to you quietly and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead just before a nurse popped her head in. 

"Hi, sorry, there's meant to be no visitors" she whispered careful not to wake you. Yelena turned and faced her, "I'm her wife" she replied. 

"Oh, I'm sorry" the nurse smiled, "would you like me to bring up the baby? She's due for a feeding an hour" she added. Yelena nodded knowing it was only a moment before she would meet her daughter. 

----

Stirring in your sleep, your eyes fluttered awake to the soft sound of a familiar voice. "and that's how I met your mommy. Between you and I, I think I fell in love with her the first time I saw her, but don't tell her that. That's our secret!" Yelena spoke softly with your daughter in her arms looking up at her mama as if she truly understood a single word Yelena was saying. 

"I heard that" you smiled at the sight, "You're here" you added as Yelena carefully walked over to you and sitting on the edge of your bed. "I tried to get here in time for you but trying to get a flight wasn't working, I'm sorry" she replied as she looked up at you. 

"You're here now and I'm sorry I snapped over the phone" 

"Don't be sorry, none of that matters, not now. Not when we have this beautiful girl" Yelena smiled softly once more, "she's so tiny" she added.

"She did not feel that tiny coming out, trust me" you joked as you looked at your daughter falling asleep in Yelena's arms. "Have you made it official yet? Her name?" you asked.

"You sure?" Yelena questioned, you nodded, "I am"

"Well in that case, welcome to the world, Natalia Katherine Belova"

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[familyabolisher]

can you elaborate your thoughts on 'the bear' show? i keep seeing it all over my dash and it looks interesting but i wanna know what to look out for since you said the politics isn't handled well.

having now watched all of the second season—a major problem sticking out to me is that the show can’t quite decide what tone it wants to strike. in season one, you had these dream sequences intended to communicate carmy’s [in]ability to process his feelings about michael, spliced with an otherwise v realist tone—but the show never really leant into either consistently using a surrealist external world to represent something internal to a character or going straightforwardly realist. season two has, eg., a moment where syd sees the text on the rapidly generating tickets change from table orders to like “fuck” over and over, and, like—it’s the same thing again, it’s the use of an obviously not ‘literal’ physical space communicating the mental headspace of the character whose perspective we briefly occupy, but, like, the show can’t quite commit to the tone that this slightly trickier technique demands, so it just feels awkward and clumsy and like a cheap way of communicating a character’s internal state. i thought the bit in season one where carmy dreams he’s on a cooking show that goes horribly wrong was really tonally effective and an excellent segue into the rest of the episode, but, like, they just kind of pull this conceit out when they need it and ignore it when they don’t. and i wish they’d try to do more with it! shit or get off the pot.

the dialogue is also just … pretty weak at points. there’s a lot of like, characters launching into anecdotes as a technique of exposition, which … i can put up with once or twice, but when it just keeps happening, i can’t help but think of it as lazy writing. season 2 also seemed to spread itself far too thin; we have different episodes dedicated to different secondary characters, which if handled well could be effective—the idea is that they’re a team, that everyone contributes something and everyone has to pull their weight, and we spend time with each individual before seeing how it all comes together at the end. that did kind of half-land in the final episode, but on an individual level, the episodes just weren’t tightly constructed enough for any one storyline to feel complete. tina and marcus in particular felt … underused, underdeveloped, i feel like i barely have more of a sense of their characters than i did at the end of season 1. marcus’ episode especially felt incredibly flat; we learnt (through Dialogue Exposition) about his relationship to his terminally ill mother, which i think worked well enough, but other than that, the process of learning new baking techniques felt half-assed and lacked any real tension, will poulter’s character was completely forgettable. glad we got some pretty shots of copenhagen, but like, what was the point.

ideologically it sucks lol. there’s a chef who’s fired for doing drugs which the narrative is v much fine with, there’s pithy comments about people coming into the restaurant in groups and buying one thing so they can sit around, there’s … just no real sense of the ways in which restaurants are classed spaces, service work is a denigrated form of labour, hospitality is a v abusive industry … richie’s episode in season 2 focuses on him learning some nauseatingly bootlicky hospitality shit as a barometer of Character Growth to the point that i was laughing when i watched it because i couldn’t take it seriously at all. (there’s a line where a manager says that serving fine dining guests can be compared to looking after people in hospital in terms of the level of care you bring to the job … i guess that’s why they call it … Hospitality … and i was just sat there cackling. like, be serious.) there’s just no drive to interrogate the hospitality industry & how the impression of servitude and deference is built into the world of fine dining and what that means, no serious criticism of restaurant work beyond carmy’s flashbacks to chefs being abusive to him that become a discursive dead end when the show doesn’t develop them to tackle the nature of fine dining itself.

my final big problem is that it’s very thematically flimsy. the conceit of the show is that carmy has to interrupt his career as a fine-dining chef to come and work at michael’s v modest sandwich shop whilst emotionally processing his suicide—so it seems pretty clear to me that this would play with tensions between the culture of fine dining and that of a failing sandwich shop, right? like, clashes when the fine dining chef tries to bring fine dining techniques to the new place, in the end we all learn a valuable lesson about what we can all teach each other or whatever? and season 1 does do this, but even at the points where it seems to want to criticise the fine dining industry, by season 2 it seems to have pretty definitively joined the war on fine dining on the side of the fine dining. there’s not really a drive in season 2 to interrogate what it means to turn a neighbourhood sandwich shop into a fine dining establishment; how do regulars feel about this? what about the locals who might now be priced out of it? what about the question of gentrification? none of these are ever really brought to the forefront. in season 1, we got the sense that carmy’s fine dining world was sterile and alien where it wasn’t actively abusive, and the sandwich shop allowed him to escape that world—so why aren’t we asking questions about what kind of restaurant culture is really valuable, what really makes for good hospitality? even in a show that obviously doesn’t want to ask serious questions about restaurants under capitalism, there are all these little channels of negotiation that season 1 seemed to set up only for season 2 to let them drop.

so, yeah. i’m not convinced the show really has a strong sense of direction. season 2 felt very all over the place, and seemed to want to juggle so many things at once that it ended up not really landing any of them.

[shadowscrybe]

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 8

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none-typical canon content

A/N: Azriel is so *heart eyes* HE IS MY BAT BOY. Plot is cooking guys. How we feeling?

She had asked them to wake her at dawn in case she fell asleep too late and slept in, but it turned out to be an unnecessary request seeing as she was pacing her room in the Town House before the sun had a chance to wake. She should have tried to get at least a single hour of rest, but every time her eyes closed the beating in her chest rose so loud she was sure all of Velaris could hear. 

Right on cue, the short staccato knocks of the shadowsinger propelled the day in motion. Today, she either proved a formidable member of this court or slipped to the depths of failure.

Rayven made her way around all the discarded clothes and sparring bags around the room and pulled the door open to meet shadows. 

“Back off,” She barked at them. 

“They're only making an assessment, princess.” Azriel dressed in sparring leathers. 

Rahne mingled with one of his shadows, sending messages of content. 

She stepped around him into the hall to make her way down to breakfast before their meeting with the Highlord. “Call me that again,” she dared him. 

Azriel did not laugh today. His eyebrows flicked up as he scanned the disheveled room behind her. “Making your own obstacle course?”

Rayven did not laugh either. 

He handed her a cup of hot breakfast tea as they walked down the hall. “Good morning,” he nudged her with his shoulder. 

She sipped on the creamy drink and mumbled a mornin’ back at him. 

“You're up early,” he noted. 

“We've got places to go, I wanted to be ready.”

“Rhys requests you join us at breakfast.” 

“Requests.”

His lips formed a tight line. “He wants to talk to you before you go.” 

“He’s not going?” 

Azriel changed the subject as he led her down the stairs to the dining room. 

“Did you sleep well?” His shadows had probably told him after their “assessment.”

She cut him a sideways look. “I slept just fine.” She recalled Rahne back and quickened her pace to reach the dining room ahead of him, but he caught her arm before the archway. 

Azriel was calculated in his look-over of her attire, taking in the belts she had strapped to her thighs and torso. He was quick to reach down and adjust a belt and tighten another. Before she could chide him for the touch, he had removed himself. 

“Now they won't fall off,” he smiled without condescension. 

She couldn't hide her smile in return. “Thanks.”

At breakfast, Cassian was already working on his thirds by the looks of the conquered meal around him. 

“You look like shit,” Cassian said with a mouth full of lemon scone. 

Rayven wiped at her lip. “Got something right here.” 

Cassian swiped at his face and scowled when he found nothing. 

“Good,” Rhys said. “Get it out of your system before you head to the House.” He extends a hand to the setting placed across from him. 

She put on a face of nonchalance as she lounged in the seat next to the shadowsinger. She stabbed a fork into a defenseless chunk of fruit and popped it into her mouth before asking the question nagging at her. 

“We need to leave soon to make it in time.” She pretended to be interested in the first pastry she saw and began to pick at it. “Or are you not up for the flight, Rhys?”  

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys shared a moment so quickly Rayven almost didn't catch it as it flicked across their faces.

“We need to discuss strategy,” Rhys said. 

“What do you mean?” She asked around a bite of cranberry muffin. “I can handle a meeting with the Highlord.” If she could survive in the mountains she could take a verbal assault from the Highlord. 

Cassian avoided her eye. 

“I don't doubt your capability.” Rhys picked at his sleeves like he was already annoyed with her. “What are you going to say to him?”

“My plan was to tell him what I was trying to do. If I explain he might not be as angry. If I can play it right he might hear me out.” She looked at each of the boys, they reeked of nervousness. 

“He isn't meeting with you to understand your intentions. He doesn't care. He is furious you were able to pull this without his knowledge.”

Azriel’s shoulders pulled tighter, but Rhys went on. 

“I think he’s going to give you a task to perform in Spring.” Rhys waited for her to piece it together. 

“Yeah, border control,” she said. 

Cassian rubbed his forehead and threw his forgotten scone onto his plate. Azriel sat emotionless. 

“Why didn't he explode last night?” Rhys asked. 

“Because we were in mixed company. He couldn't reveal to them he’d been deceived.” 

He nodded shallowly, but apparently she hadn't answered correctly. “Why praise you though? Why own it as his idea? He was going to agree to the rotations anyway. What changed?”

“I told them I’ll be in rotation with my own command.”

“He could've easily come up with a reason the other lords would believe to excuse that change of plan. Why didn't he?”

She chewed on his question for a moment. “He wants me there.”

Rhys’ eyes lit with stars. “Suddenly it's exactly as he wants.”

“Why?” she asked. 

“Exactly. What are his motives for letting a female have a shift.” He nodded again. “That’s what we need to find out.”

The Highlord always had a motive under a motive. She may have fooled him this time, but he invented the art of the pivot. She was now playing by his rules. 

“So I don't explain myself and play him for information.” Simple enough, right? 

“You have to be careful,” Azriel spoke up. Rhys shot him a look like he wasn't supposed to say anything. “If you poke around he will sniff you out in a second.”

“Maybe we should send the spymaster.” The agitation in her tone was obvious. 

Rayven didn't need to be the better daemati to know what was in her brother's head. She learned all his tricks years ago, there's nothing he can hide from her on his face.

Her short fuse was going to get in her way. She wasn't going to beat the Highlord on the battlefield of stubbornness. He was expecting that. It's probably what he wanted. To piss her off and have a reason to punish her. 

Rhys saw the thoughts as they passed over her face. 

“I know what I have to do.”

[khaylin27]

Dinner with the Mitchells

Chapter One of Unexpected

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Mitchell! Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and Y/N "Starling" Mitchell have been childhood friends due to their dads, but since Maverick pulled both your papers you guys were pushed back 4 years. After 4 years, you guys finally got into the Naval Academy together. During their time in the Academy, they decide to become friends with benefits, but Y/N accidentally gets pregnant by Bradley. They agreed to raise their kid together as friends, but what happens when Bradley is stationed in Virginia and you are stationed in Lemoore? 

Series Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, fluff, there will be NO SMUT! (I suck at writing that)

Word Count: 2024

A/N: I'M SO SORRY Y'ALL HAD TO WAIT!!! I wanted to finish Dodgers vs Phillies Baby before I continue writing this new fic. Hope y'all like it 🫶

"So how did Bradley take it?" Natasha asked over the phone while you were cooking dinner.

"He was surprised." You grill some chicken while explaining to her what had happened with Bradley. "We went to the Navy clinic to make sure it wasn't a false alarm. Turns out it wasn't and that I'm actually pregnant."

"Are you going to keep it?"

You were silent once Natasha said that. You knew the risk of having a child in this line of work, you would be grounded for almost two years and after that the job of a naval aviator was a risky.

"I'm going to keep it. I know I'll be grounded for almost two years but I'm fine with that. This job doesn’t give us the chance to get married or start a family. So this really is just a blessing in disguise."

"Is Bradley going to help?" Natasha asks while you plate the chicken you just grilled.

"He said he wants to help when I told him he doesn't need to stay for this baby. I think he wants this baby too." Natasha knew not a lot about his background but he knew that his dad died at an early age.

"That's good. Did you tell your dad yet?" You were placing your food on your tiny dining table as she asked you that question.

"Not yet but he called me after the appointment saying he's coming to San Diego to spend time with me." Take a bite of your delicious grill chicken that was sided with steamed vegetables and rice.

"Does Bradley know he's coming?" Natasha also knew that Bradley didn't like your dad for some reason. She didn't know the reason though.

You laugh a little before you start to talk, "Well Bradley was with me when my dad called and my dad also asked if I can pick him up from the airport. I promised him that I would and would also treat him to dinner with Bradley."

All of a sudden you hear Natasha choking on water, "OMG TASH ARE YOU OKAY!?"

"YOU DID WHAT!?"

"I said that Bradley would have dinner with us!" You explain once again.

"How did that go?" Natasha asks trying to recover from choking on her water.

"Oh, you know Rooster." You say sarcastically. "He's dramatic and asked if I was crazy for telling my dad that he was coming to dinner. He told me he wasn't going to go but I told him he has to go. I invited my mom and sister so he wouldn't be alone."

"Y/N you can't do something like that? You didn't even take his feelings into consideration."

"Yeah, I did. I told him we would tell my family that we're having a kid together. I know that he's still mad at my dad but can they at least get along for the sake of our child!" You were irritated that Natasha asked you that question. You did consider Bradley's feelings, but why can't he take your feelings into consideration.

"Jeez, okay I get your point!" She sighs into the phone, "How do you think this dinner is going to go?"

"Oh, I'm expecting it to be a horrible dinner."

NEXT DAY (after picking up Maverick)

Driving back home from picking up Maverick was okay. It was filled with one on one conversations about how each other was doing and such. As you park on your driveway, you see Amelia and your mom getting parking as well.

"Sweetie, you didn't tell me your mom and Amelia were coming!" He gets out of the car to walk to Amelia and Penny to give them a hug.

You get out of the driver's seat and close the door. "Well I wanted to surprise you." Walking over to Amelia and your mom to give them a big hug.

"Hi, Pete," Penny says after hugging Maverick. "It's been awhile."

"It has." Your dad gives your mom the look he always gives when she sees her.

"Eww, Y/N can we go inside and make dinner?" Amelia asks you in disgust at what she's looking at between your parents. You nod yes and you two go inside while your parents have some catching up to do.

"So did you invite Bradley?" Amelia asks while peeling the potatoes.

After you cut the vegetables that Amelia peeled you looked at her. "Yes."

"OOOOH!! You guys finally a thing now?" If she only knew what you were going to tell all of them later that night. You weren't together but you were going to have a kid together.

"No, you know I don't like commitment." Putting the cut vegetables in the pot of boiling water, you hear the door open.

"Y/N!?" It was Bradley that had entered the house.

"In the kitchen." You holler out from the kitchen.

He walks into the kitchen and sees you. "Hey Y/N!"

"Here Bradley." You walk away from the pot of boiling vegetables to give Bradley a hug. "Did you say hi to Amelia?"

"Yeah Bradley!! Did you say hi to me?" Amelia says sarcastically.

Bradley walks to Amelia and gives a tight hug. "Hi Amelia!"

"Hi Bradley. I missed you." She says and hugs Bradley back. "Now go away so I can help Y/N."

Even though Amelia was your little sister, she was like a little sister to Bradley too. When Amelia was born, you and Bradley were 18. You two would watch over her while your mom had to work at the Hard Deck. Amelia considered you more than just her sister, she considered you as another mom. She considered Bradley not only a brother, but a father figure since her biological father wasn't around.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Bradley asks sitting on your bar stool watching you two cook.

"You can help me plate the food while Amelia sets up the table."

Bradley nods and goes to your side. "Scoot Amelia, go somewhere else." The 13 year old rolls her eyes at Bradley and leaves to go set up the table. "So are we going to talk about you know what?"

"Yeah, we're going to tell my parents the situation after dinner." You look at Bradley once you finish putting all the food in each plate. "How do you feel about this?"

This wasn't easy for Bradley, coming to have dinner with the man he resented. But he wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing this for the sake of you and their child. "To be honest, I don't want to be here. But I'm doing this for you guys."

You give Bradley a sad smile, this was a lot for him. "Thank you for coming. I don't think I can do this by myself."

"It's okay Star, we're in this together." Bradley gives you a hug and kisses the top of your forehead.

Once everyone came inside to go eat, it was the most uncomfortable dinner ever. You have Bradley who hated your dad, your mom who has a on and off relationship with your dad, and a big elephant in the room which is your child none of your family knew about.

Currently Bradley was helping you clean up dinner while you family was sitting in your living room. "Are those the last of the dishes Y/N?"

"Yeah looks like it," Bradley puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and starts it.

"You ready?" You ask Bradley while you took the ultrasound photo from the drawer in your kitchen. Putting the photo in your back pocket while you wait for Bradley to finish.

"No, but here it goes." Bradley walks with you to the living room where everyone was watching a movie.

"Finally you guys are done!" The impatient teenager says to you two. "Let's go play some board games."

"Actually we have to talk about something first." You and Bradley sit next to each other on the love seat couch.

"OOOH!! IS IT FINALLY WHAT I THINK IT IS!?" Amelia says so excitedly. She has been rooting for you two ever since she can comprehend what dating is.

"AMELIA!!" Your mom calls out Amelia's comment while your dad was smiling at her comment.

"No it's not, but I think you're going to like this one." Bradley looks like you seeing if you were ready. You nod yes and look at your family.

"So Bradley and I weren't planning for this to happen but it happened." You laugh nervously as you were getting the ultrasound out of your pocket. Once you get it out of your pocket, you put it on the coffee table so that they can all see it.

"I'm pregnant."

Looking at your little sister, her eyes went wide. "OMG YOU'RE PREGNANT!!" Amelia says happily getting off the couch and going to you two to give you a hug. "I'M SO EXCITED TO BE AN AUNTIE!!!"

"And I'm going to be a grandma!" Your mom laughs a little. "This is exciting! How far along are you?"

"12 weeks. We found out yesterday." You look at your dad since he was a little quiet. "How do you feel about this dad?"Your dad takes a deep breath before he starts talking.

"I'm surprised. You guys aren't together so this a big pill to swallow. I'm happy for you guys but at the same time I'm not. You guys are about to graduate within a couple of weeks! Y/N you're not going to be able to fly for almost 2 YEARS because you're pregnant! And you're going to be stationed in Lemoore Y/N. Where are you going to be stationed at Bradley?"

"Virginia." Your dad takes a deep breath again at Bradley's answer.

"Jeez, VIRGINIA! How are you guys going to raise a kid together if you're miles away from each other!" You can tell that your dad was upset about the situation.

"Dad! If you and mom could do it, why can't we do it?"

"There's a difference between your mom and I's situation than you guys. Your mom wasn't in the Navy, she has a stable job and was always there to take care of you. You on the other hand are in the Navy, you need to be realistic with this Y/N. You and Bradley are in the Navy, you guys don't have stability in the type of job you're in." Your dad was right. The Navy didn't provide stability for people in the field, you guys would always be moving around.

"It doesn't matter Pete. We're having this kid no matter what. You can support us or not." Bradley blurts out to your dad. "You know I didn't even want to be here because of you. But I promised Y/N that I would go for and get along with you for not only the sake of our unborn child but for her as well. If that doesn't say anything to you then that's your problem."

You take a deep sigh before you start to speak, "Dad, I know you don't agree with this but it is what it is. I know what I’m getting myself into and I’m fine with it. This job doesn’t give us the chance to get married or start a family. I don't want to wait until I'm old and regret not having children."

"How do you feel about this Bradley?"

"I support Y/N's decision and will help with her however I can." Your dad sighs at Bradleys's answer. He was happy that Bradley was going to help you.

"I'm happy that you'll help Y/N how ever you can, but it's not going to be easy." Your dad tells you guys true fully. "I know you don't like me right now too but I'll get along with you for the sake of your child."

You stand up and walk to your dad so you can give him a hug, "Thank you dad. I love you."

"I love you too," He looks at you and smiles.

"Wow, that was a lot." Amelia says sarcastically.

"AMELIA!!"

Here's to be added to the taglist

Taglist: @topguncortez @one-sweet-gubler @carsgeek24 @theliterarybeldam @sandyys-posts @merakiaes @adoringsebstan @wishingtobeforeveryoung1019 @lilmonstrjedi @blairfox04 @mygyn @atarmychick007 @louie-bug @emes-alexndra @k-k0129 @hmarsattacks @sebby-staan @the-simp-next-door @libra-2409 @iviste @super-btstrash-posts @ollyoxenfrees @inky-sun @mrsjobarnes @m14mags

[we-are-inevitable]

i rly fuckin love that restaurant au… pls speak on the javey of it all !! @jack-kellys

ohhh the javey of it all …. no but this javey slays.

at first, they like each other! they get along well, and davey doesn’t have any problems with jack. jack is efficient and cares about the quality of the food he’s putting out, which in turn makes david’s tips that much better, so their professional relationship is good. they don’t really know each other that well, but they respect each other. they both see each other busting ass to make sure the restaurant runs smoothly, and everything is good in the world.

but then david comes into work pissed off, and he snaps at jack for one of his appetizers taking too long and a table complaining about it, and all hell breaks loose. for the entirety of that shift, their snapping at each other, making snide remarks, and davey always mutters insults as he leaves the kitchen, because who the fuck does jack think he is? gordon fucking ramsay? appetizers don’t take that fucking long and jack should just get his head out of his ass and god, when davey is pissed, davey is pissed.

the animosity between them continues for three days. they’re both too prideful to admit that they were wrong, or apologize, and it all comes to a head when david is taking the trash out after a closing shift and jack just so happens to be outside chatting with some of the line cooks. when david is walking back to the restaurant from the dumpsters, jack sees him, and they make eye contact, and david could easily ignore him, but where’s the fun in that?

“You know, we have an entire restaurant to clean. Maybe you should stop the chitchat and get back in there with the rest of us and actually do something.”

“Oh, so cooking over two hundred meals today- that’s not doin’ somethin’? Cleaning an entire fucking kitchen ain’t doin’ somethin’? Kitchen closed thirty minutes ago, Jacobs. We’ve already done all of our shit. Maybe if you would do your fucking closing tasks early, you wouldn’t—“

“I just got my ass handed to me by a table for sweeping while they were in the dining room, asshat! I can’t fucking clean the bathrooms and keep track of three four tops! Not this late! You want me to start closing the restaurant early? Fucking fine. I’d like to see you buss a goddamn table.”

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? You’ve been nothin’ but a dick the past few days—“

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to be pissed off? Is that what you’re saying? You think you’re so goddamn important that you’re the only one allowed to have a problem with anyone else?! Listen, asshole, you’re not as perfect as you think you are. You think I need to put my ego in check?! That’s rich coming from— Mmph!“

long story short, the entire time they’ve been arguing like this, they’ve been moving closer and closer until they’re essentially chest to chest, and one minute they’re bickering and the next they’re making out with david pressed against the brick wall and jack holding him there.

that’s kind of their normal for a bit. they argue, they fight, they make out behind the restaurant when david takes the trash out and this ends up being the gateway into their relationship. it doesn’t last forever, maybe just a month or so before, surprise! they’re having deep talks in jack’s bed and falling head over ass in love with each other because, wooow, there’s actually a nice person buried under all of the dickish remarks and bitchy comments

from then on, there’s a shift in the arguments that they have in the kitchen. they’re more snarky than mean, and they flash a lot more smiles at each other; it’s clear to the two of them that they’re just messing around now, because that shift also made them communicate normally when something goes wrong. they don’t yell and scream at each other anymore, which kind of tips charlie off that there’s something going on.

they go as long as possible without disclosing their relationship, just because they know there might be some power imbalance allegations around the restaurant- jack is a seasoned chef here, after all, and david is the newest addition to the team (despite having more serving experience than most of the others on the waitstaff). when they finally tell charlie (only because he caught them riding to work together even though they live on opposite sides of town), it’s a little rocky at first but charlie knows that they’re professional enough to do what they need to do and not ruin it for everyone else.

their relationship is solid as a rock after telling charlie, though. sure, they have their differences, and arguments happen, but it’s nothing they can’t work through (and besides, their arguments lead to great makeout sessions, so it’s not that awful). everyone else finds out about the relationship about a month or so after charlie, and the rest is history!

jack and davey go from being the most annoying and bitchy enemies to being a solid team in the restaurant. obviously they don’t give each other special treatment on the job, but they work a lot better as a team, and that only gets better as david is promoted to the lead server position!!!

the restaurant closes on the day of their wedding bc so many people requested for that day off lmfao

[sulky-valkyrie]

200 followers fic "raffle"

from this post and for @laughingpunk

Morning came too early, as always.  But evil never slept, so justice (and Justice) apparently could only be afforded the occasional catnap.  Anders yawned and rolled out of his bed as the pounding outside continued.  "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

He'd been up until almost dawn thanks to a foundry accident, and, if the water clock Hawke had given him was working correctly, he'd had only three hours of sleep in two days.

Varric's grin faded as Anders opened the door.  "You look like shit, Blondie."

"Feel like it too," he agreed.  "What’s Hawke done now?"  Miraculously, the line of patients hadn't formed yet, but it was only a matter of time.  Best to get whatever this was over with quickly, maybe catch a few winks on Hawke’s couch, then be back to the clinic by noon.

"No, they're fine," Varric assured him as he walked inside and started poking through his closet, if half of a cupboard that permanently smelled of elfroot could be called such.  "But they do need you up at the mansion.  Soon as possible."

He turned to grab his coat and staff.  "That's not ominous at all."

"Leave the gear and put this on instead."  A bundle of pale blue linen was shoved into his hands.  "Time's money, and you're costing me a fortune."

Anders eyed it skeptically, then shrugged and pulled off his shirt to put this new one on.  "What's this all about?"

"It's a surprise.  A good one!" Varric amended hastily, then winced.  "I hope.  Ancestors know what they're up to without me."

"You're not selling this well."  The fabric was luxurious and soft on his skin, but the sleeves were too short.  Ridiculously so. “And this doesn’t fit.”

"I'm not selling anything.  Not to you, at least.  And we’ll fix the rest."  Varric grinned.  "Now, come on."

He stubbornly grabbed his coat and staff anyway.  "Fine."

Apprehension dripped from Varric as they made their way through the tunnels to Hawke's cellar, and Anders couldn't stop worrying and wondering, no matter how many reassurances were offered.

When they stepped into the kitchen, nothing could've prepared him for the sight: Bels and Fenris were wearing aprons, smeared in flour, and...

"Are you baking a cake?" Anders asked incredulously.

"What of it, mage?" Fenris asked, brandishing a - was that a whisk? - at him menacingly. 

Bels laughed and plucked it from his hand before going back to beating something in a bowl.

Freed of his burdensome cooking utensils, Fenris advanced on him, pulling his coat off his shoulders with disdainful noise and reaching for his belt.  "I said this wouldn't match." He clicked his tongue in irritation.

"I did the best I could, Broody," Varric retorted.  "He doesn't have a lot of options."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Anders demanded, yanking his coat back from Fenris and slapping his hand away from his trousers.  "Is it ‘make fun of the sewer mage’ day?  Some previous unknown holiday made up just to drag me up here and–"

"Not so loud!" Bels hissed.

The urgency of her tone shut him up immediately.  Something terrible must be happening, or be about to happen that even Bels was serious.  "Varric, you said this was a good surprise," he said with a glare.

"It is!" Varric insisted.  "Just not... look, it's Hawke’s nameday."

Anders frowned.  It’s not like I could’ve done something for them anyway.   Still, not even getting the chance to wish them well?  That stung.  "They didn't tell -"

"Anyone," Bels sighed.  "Their mother is doing that thing she does, and Hawke is doing that thing they do, and didn't want to drag us into it."  She pointed toward the dining room.  "Big fancy luncheon, full of big fancy hats and big fancy Leandra’s big fancy people, in about two hours.  And they were just going to sit through it with a big fancy miserable smile."

"And we're going to fix that?" he asked, then added.  “Without kidnapping them?”

Fenris grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the pantry.  "We're trying.  But you need to look the part."  He glanced at Bels.  “Remember, fold the chocolate into the egg whites slowly.  Don’t stir.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”  She wiggled her fingers at him dismissively.  “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Fenris shook his head in irritated amusement as led Anders inside, then closed the door behind them.  

Well, this is new.  He fluttered his eyes coquettishly.  “You know, if you wanted to get me in bed, there are far simpler ways to do it.”

Fenris snorted.  “Take off your shirt.”

Anders tugged off his borrowed not-quite-finery and pretended not to notice the brightness in Fenris’ eyes as he handed it over.  In return, Fenris didn’t acknowledge the blush spreading down his chest.  They’d been in this strange orbit for weeks, drifting ever closer before something or someone pulled them away.  Usually it was the clinic: an urgent pounding on his door, or shouts at odd hours, but it could just as easily be Hawke themself, hauling them off together into absurd danger.  He’d resented the interruptions at first, but the more they occurred, the more grateful he was for them, simply because they’d kept him from doing something foolish.

Something foolish like getting dragged into a pantry and told to undress.

“H-How is this helping Hawke exactly?” he asked as he rubbed at his wrists to shop himself from trying to cover up.  Focus on something else.  “When did you have time to learn how to bake?”

A needle and thread appeared in Fenris' hand.  “The shirt isn’t enough to keep you from looking like the Darktown healer.  Also, I enjoy pastries.”  A dark blue jacket was pressed to Anders’ arms, and he tutted under his breath.  "This will have to do."

"Do what?"

"Why must you be so tall?" He complained as he started popping the seams at the shoulder.  "I have plenty of robes in the mansion, but they'd look ridiculous on you.  Too much ankle."

Anders had no idea what to say to that, so he just watched, dumbfounded at the speed that Fenris stitched strips of velvet between the detached sleeve and the shoulder.  It was unsettling to be half naked with him, and certainly not how he imagined it could be.  Not that he'd imagined it.  Well, not often.  Well, not too often.  "Where did you learn how to sew?" He finally asked.  "This, this quickly, I mean."

"Danarius expected his attendants to be able to assist with his wardrobe," Fenris answered flatly.  "I must admit, it's come in handy more often than he or I could have anticipated."

Any mention of Danarius always made Anders' skin crawl with the need to apologize hand in hand with the urge to insist not all mages were like that.  Over the years, though, he'd learned better.  What had been done to him was unconscionable, but to argue against his legitimate fears and trauma by equating it to the struggles of mages in the South solved nothing.  Even if he'd never admit it, Fenris had done plenty for Anders' kind, however grudgingly, and fighting with him over whether he'd done enough was a battle no mortal could win.  There would never be enough, not until every man woman and child in Thedas viewed magic as a blessing, not a curse.

"Anders."

He blinked back to reality.  Back to a pantry and Fenris giving him a look that seemed a mixture of fondness and exasperation.  "Hmwhat?"

Fenris handed him the shirt.  The cuffs were now longer, with bright blue silk stitched to the ends, and the tops of the sleeves were wound with black satin.  "This will have to do.  Your trousers are…" Fenris trailed off and glanced down.  "They're lost cause, but if you hurry to your seat, no one will notice."

Before Anders could muster an indignant retort, Fenris pressed the jacket into his other hand.  "The stitching is loose, but the black underneath should hide it.  Don't make too many sudden movements or an entire sleeve might shear off.  I'll do it properly when I have more time."

"Why?"  It was for Hawke, of course, but they could've simply not invited him.  The clinic occupied him at all hours, and he would never have noticed or known.

Fenris ducked his head and looked away as his ears took on a faint redness.  "Perhaps Hawke deserves to have a party they'd enjoy."  He licked his lips, then met his eyes.  "Perhaps I wanted to see you dressed up, haphazardly though this may be.  Perhaps crashing this luncheon was my idea, but it wouldn't be complete without you."

Something about his tone, so challenging yet so vulnerable, made Anders pause.  He looped the shirt over his arm and reached out to touch Fenris' hand.  "Is – Fenris, is this a date?"

He smiled softly and squeezed Anders' fingers.  "Perhaps."

[wheredafandomat]

Lye to me 🩸

Detective! Loki x Detective! Female Reader

18+ | contains smut, mentions of murder, angst

Another day, another victim. You and detective Laufeyson worked tirelessly trying to catch whoever it was that was killing victims and dissolving parts of the bodies in lye. The worst thing was that this criminal, whoever they were, kept leaving body parts untouched, mocking you and your colleague. They were clearly skilful, they could have disposed of the whole thing so why fake a lack of attention to detail? Was it to goad or something more sinister?

��Could you bag up those rings on the floor please and lock them as evidence.” You requested before turning around and walking out of the room. Noticing you, Loki followed behind you. “Fuck!” You cursed, hitting the wall hard, thinking you were alone.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.” Loki spoke, startling you. “We’ll catch them.”

“I have nothing Laufeyson, nothing.” You sighed, turning to face him. “It’s been three months. I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, I feel like a failure.”

“Well you’re no use to anyone malnourished.” He spoke sympathetically. “Why don’t you come over? I can cook for you, we can even go over some of the details of the case.” He offered.

“I can’t.” You quickly answered. Despite being able to separate your working life from your personal one, you were no stranger to sharing Lokis bed. One night, one hotel room and a little alcohol left you and Loki deciding to blur the lines of your platonic relationship. You slept together and since then, you were adamant you would compromise yourself like that again regardless of how handsome or charming he was. He was your colleague, part of your professional life, you couldn’t bring him into your personal one.

“It won’t happen again.” He assured, knowing what you were thinking.

“I—”

“Dinner, going over the case, that’s it.” He interrupted.

“Fine.” You gave in, agreeing to go to his house.

You both finished work at 7PM but you went home first to freshen up. Changing out of your work clothes, you opted for for some plain jeans as well as a plain top, you were certainly not trying to impress anyone or send any signals. You knew the way to Lokis house considering you had carpooled a few times to work so getting there was no problem despite the thunderous weather. He told you to come at around 9PM because then the food will be ready but that you were welcome earlier. You left at around half 8 and arrived just after 9.

“Y/n” Loki greeted when you arrived at his house “you look lovely.” He complimented as you walked in.

“Thank you.” You answered despite your lack of effort. “Dinner smells good.”

“Yeah, I made roasted salmon with brown shrimp butterer, nothing too fancy.” He smiled, leading you towards the dining room.

“Nothing too fancy.” You mimicked him with a light chuckle.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” He offered.

“Yes please.” You answered, sitting down as he pulled your chair out before tucking it back underneath the table before leaving and returning with a bottle of wine, pouring some into the glass in front of you as well as another glass you assumed was his.

“So, ready to eat?” He asked.

“Famished.” You answered.

Loki brought out the dinner for you both before taking his own seat and eating. You couldn’t deny how tasty the home cooked meal was and how much of a difference it made to whatever rubbish you usually ordered. Conversation flowed effortlessly as always between you both as you drank another glass of wine, Loki doing the same. It was nice being out of the house, out of your own head as you laughed with Loki. It felt like forever since you had just let yourself be. It was refreshing and definitely needed.

“When’s the last time you’ve danced?” Loki asked, playing some music.

“Never and not going to.” You laughed, swatting his hands away when he reached for yours.

“Come on, dance with me.” He smiled, holding your hand.

“You’re going to be the death of me Laufeyson, you’ve literally filled me up with a huge dinner, delicious by the way, and now you want me to dance.” You giggled, standing to your feet. “I can’t even dance.”

“I’ll lead.” He spoke, putting one of your hands on his shoulder before placing his hands on your waist. You stepped on his feet clumsily as you danced, laughing with one another whilst one of his hands ventured to your lower back. When the music slowed, you placed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you calmed down. You let your worries leave you with every exhale, content with the feeling of Lokis arms around you as you swayed.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said, lifting your head as you looked into Lokis eyes. You didn’t know how much you needed tonight.

“Anytime.” He smiled, eyes looking into yours too. You were both lost, feeling a pull between you before Loki leaned in. You tilted your head, leaning in too before your lips brushed against one another’s. The kiss started slow, Loki pulling you closer against him before you deepened it, Loki reciprocating your eagerness. Before long, you broke apart, catching your breaths back as your heart rate increased. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. Your body craved Loki. You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him again as his hands wandered to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, Loki carried you to his bedroom, swinging the door open before laying you against the bed. You removed your top, Loki doing the same with his as he settled, kneeling between your legs. He leant down, kissing your neck before reaching the swell of your breasts. Your back arched off of the bed as his lips travelled lower before his thumb hooked underneath the hem of your jeans before he pulled them down. He trailed kisses over your thighs, widening your legs the closer he reached to your centre. You let out a needy mewl when he kissed your clit through your panties before repeating the action. Your eyes closed, head falling deeper into the pillow beneath you when he pulled your panties to the side before his lips wrapped around your clit. He began sucking, leaving you moaning his name as you writhed against the bed. His tongue dipped into your entrance leaving you tugging at his hair as you saw stars. This is what your body truly needed, him.

“So good.” He hummed approvingly, lapping up your arousal with ardour like a man starved. Your thighs tightened around his head as you came, near screaming his name.

“M-more.” You whimpered, still not fully sated. “Need to feel you.”

Wasting no time, Loki pulled his own trousers down, as well as his boxers, freeing his erection in the process. He couldn’t deny how much he had yearned for your body since your last rendezvous. His eyes met yours as he palmed his cock before pressing the tip against your clit before gliding through your folds. He used your arousal as lubricant before entering you slowly causing your eyes to shut tightly again.

“Lokii.” You moaned as he bottomed out, releasing a groan of his own. He waited for you to say so before he began moving and when he did, you realised how pent up you had been. This was exactly what you needed, he was perfect. Your nails dug into his back as he fucked you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. He reached between you both, toying with your sensitive clit as you lifted your hips to match his movements. It wasn’t long before you were approaching your second climax, calling his name as you came. He entered you a couple more times before he came too, pulling out of you before he ejaculated.

Finally sated, you laid against the bed, catching your breath back as Loki collapsed next to you, coming down from his own high. Rolling onto your side, you faced him with a grin.

“What?” He smiled.

“Thank you for tonight, honestly.”

“My pleasure.” He winked.

“Can I use your bathroom please?” You requested.

“Straight down the hallway.” He nodded before you stood up, Lokis eyes following you as you grabbed his dressing gown from the door.

“I’m wearing this.” You told him, wrapping it around yourself before you began your journey to the bathroom. Once inside, you used the toilet, finally getting rid of all that wine. You looked around the room as you emptied your bladder before something caught your attention. A feeling of nausea overcame you as you spotted the tub in the corner of the room. You finished on the toilet, flushing and washing your hands before you crept towards it. Once you reached it, you spun it around before reading the label and letting out a gasp.

Lye

It couldn’t be. Not Loki. Not all this time. You didn’t know what to do, you felt sick, vulnerable, used. You froze, panic consuming you as your lip trembled. It wasn’t as if you could just jump out of the window. You wondered whether you should have just acted normal or whether you should have confronted him. Scenarios played in your head before you shrieked hearing Lokis voice.

“Are you alright in there?”

“Y-yes.” You answered, locking the door.

“Are you sure?” He questioned causing you to blanch as you heard his footsteps approaching you. “Y/n?” He called, twisting the doorknob.

“Stop.” You yelled, stepping away from the door.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t see that, come on, open the door.” He spoke nonchalantly.

You rummaged through the cabinet, desperately trying to find something you could use to fight him off.

“I said OPEN THE DOOR!” He shouted leaving you shouting for help when your search turned up useless. You screamed when he broke the door down, entering the room before covering your mouth with his hand. “Shh.”

“G-get off of me.” You tried to scream, your words muffled.

“You know I’d never hurt you y/n.” He soothed, stroking your hair with his free hand as you struggled in his hold. “But I am afraid I can’t let you go now either.”

Turning all my horror fic ideas into little Oneshots for Halloween - they’ll hopefully get progressively better then whatever this was and Loki won’t be the bad guy in all. Hope you enjoyed!

Tags:

@mochie85 @lulubelle814 @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @mcufan72 @lokisgoodgirl @vickie5446 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958

[ivorydragoness44]

Horst x Reader: Wonderful

Word Count: 2,627

Warnings/Notes/Tags: Established romantic relationship, nsfw (minors do not interact) unprotected sex, celebratory sex, no use of y/n, smut with plot, kissing, implied swearing briefly (incoherent), fluff and smut, romance, accidental orgasm delay, gendered female reader, gendered female anatomy, Summary: The Reader wakes up to hearing Horst returning home for the night. Questioning why he had specifically prepared their favorite meal for the next day, he reveals how well the restaurant as been doing. In their shared joy, they decide to ‘celebrate’. Author’s Notes: A huge thank you for this commission, inspired by my recent Horst x Reader: Bun, in which the Reader reveals to Horst their pregnancy.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Paris, France, a city of fine art, delicious food, and a sleeping you. Had you not been particularly exhausted, you would have stayed awake for an hour or so more. You had done so before, and though your partner was grateful, he would much rather that you received a good night’s rest instead. Confusion crept over you when you found yourself awake and the bedroom still dark. As you breathed in, you could have sworn that you were smelling one of your favorite meals. Rolling over to go back to sleep, you initially ignored it. The sound of dish-ware clinking together told you otherwise. Eyes flashed open, knowing exactly what it meant. Horst was home. Away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, and yet still in a kitchen. A chef’s work was never done, you supposed.

Tossing the bedsheets aside, you slumped out of bed. Nearly shuffling your feet in the process, you made your way over to the kitchen. The wonderful aroma of the room hit your senses and you took a deep breath. Smiling to yourself, you saw Horst. The attentive sous chef of the restaurant, Gusteau’s, had already noticed you. Of course he did.

“Hello, meine Liebe,” he smiled in greeting. His smile appeared to widen as you walked around the counter. “Good evening, Horst,” you leaned into him to give him a kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry for waking you.” “It’s alright, it was not necessarily you,” you said, eyeing the food resting in open tupperware. “This delicious food made its presence very known to my nose.” If you had it your way, you would be thoroughly investigating every straight edge and curve to the filled tupperware. Horst gestured toward the top of the counter. “I prepared you dinner for tomorrow. I know you will be busy, so I wanted to make sure that you ate. I’m only waiting for the food to cool before closing its lid and storing it away.” “Are there any samples available?” You asked, dancing a finger up his chest and your free hand toward the food containers. “No.” His hand already grabbing to stop your own, you frowned. “But why cook one of my favorites? What’s the occasion?”

Horst brought your other hand up to his chest, catching the first one to keep it there. “Gusteau’s is doing well again. Remarkably so. You should see the dining room. It is full every night now, with a line customers waiting outside just for a chance to taste the food. People want to eat there again. We have regulars. They love the specials so much, they order the same meal every time they visit. Ja, it’s always something Linguini creates, but it makes no difference to me. They love what we create, and so do the critics. Everything’s finally turning around.” “So, because you’re happy,” you let out a giggle and kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m so proud. Of all of you. Especially you. You love this job, you love cooking, and you’re amazing at it. And I’m not only saying so because I want you to continue making me dinner, though I appreciate immensely.” Reaching up, you cupped his face and kissed him adoringly. “I just love to see you happy.”

A silent pause soon followed. The pair of you simply gazed at the other. Such joy had been shared that you could feet it swelling your heart with the most comfortable warmth. Tilting your head, you leaned in with only him in-mind as you kissed him. Against your lips, a surprised little gasp left Horst’s mouth. Eventually, he did melt into your touch. Relaxing and putting a gentle hand to your neck, he cradled you softly to him. His thumb moved in smooth strokes along your jaw.

Taking small steps, you coaxed him in a brief rotation and backward until he was positioned between yourself and the counter. Sliding your hands down his neck, you felt the sturdy fabric of his chef’s coat before making quick work of it. Unbuttoning with an all too familiar quick and easy precision. Peeling open the coat, you pushed it back over his shoulders. “Not in the kitchen, meine Liebe,” Horst stated over your lips as he caught his coat before it could drop to the floor. “Why not?” You asked, planting tender sweet kisses down his jaw. “You’re trying to sway me,” he accused with a smirk. Half folding his coat, he placed it on the counter. “And you didn’t answer my question.” “I thought it was obvious.” His hands coming to rest on your hips as if on instinct. Kissing had stopped for the time being as you looked at one another. “The kitchen is clean. We’ll put the food away.” “Ja, but it’s no place for…this. A kitchen is for cooking.” “I thought we were cooking something up,” you recalled in a small voice. Poking his nose faintly, his shoulders slacked. Hope sprung up within you. “Yes?” “No,” he stated firmly but smiled. “Fine.”

Taking a step back, you grabbed his hand. Out of the kitchen, you led him into the bedroom. Once you were a few steps in, the plush carpeting cushioning your feet, you stopped and turned to him. “Do you still want to continue?” You asked, having taken up his hands into your own. Horst glanced fondly at your joined hands in the space between you both. “Ja, what better way to celebrate than with the one I love.” “Better than a glass of champagne?” You asked, biting back a smile. “Ja, of course. I don’t have either as much as I would like. Special occasions appear to be the similar qualifying factor for savoring such luxuries.” You gave a light laugh. “How charming.”

You pulled him toward you, embracing him. The adoration you held for each other made it become more of a snuggle than anything else. Breathing in deeply, you let out a contented sigh. “Hm, did you use truffle oil tonight?” “Ja, it was a part of a recipe,” he said, fingers twiddling at the fabric of your pajamas. “I had to use it a few times, why?” “I think the scent it starting to grow on me.”

As Horst laughed, you pulled out of the embrace. You loved to see him happy. When his laugh faded away, you pointed at the bed. “Go sit down, please,” you requested of him with a soft confidence. Horst’s brows rose, but otherwise obliged. Sitting down at the foot of the bed, he rested his hands on his knees. His complete attention was on you. You walked the short distance over to him, scooting closer to stand between his legs. Gently cupping his face in your hands, you leaned in to kiss him. And kiss him, you did. His thin lips were not difficult for you to find. Not anymore, at least. But the brush of his facial hair tickled your skin.

Tearing your hands away from his face, you nearly clawed at his shirt. You bundled up the fabric in your hands and yanked upward until you successfully pulled off his shirt. He assisted, of course. Content with your accomplishment, you dove in for another kiss. Horst’s hands claimed you all the more now. Be it his growing confidence or arousal, you were not sure. However, there were definitely no complaints from either side. The way his hands caressed up your back, sent little shivers across your skin. From your back, his hands began to roam. Less curious and more seeking, both higher and lower. Wanting more from his touch, you reluctantly pulled away from him. The bewilderment on Horst’s face vanished upon seeing you remove your sleepwear. It was not the first time that you were completely bare in front of him, but by the look in his eyes, it surely appeared as if that was the case. Horst’s chest rose as his breathing noticeably picked up. Hands reaching out to your hips, he brought you close again. Those lips of his became feverishly hot. The pursuit of his kisses did not lessen. As he massaged up from your hips, his kisses deepened. When his hands slid back down, his lips too lowered. Heavy kisses trailed downward. Down the column of your neck and pecking at your collarbone, he made you sigh sweetly.

“Thank you,” he said breathily. He held you snug against him as his lips began to tend to your chest. “For what?” You asked, combing your fingers through his light hair. “For being with me—staying no matter what has happened. You’re encouraging. Be it with me alone or my job at the restaurant.”

You would have cooed at such a sentiment, had his lips not touched a delightfully sensitive area on your chest. Gasping out a moan, you reached down to pull at the waistband of his pants. “Take off the rest.” Hurriedly, Horst pulled them and his underwear down and kicked them off. No sooner the clothing was out of reach, you straddled his lap, sitting as close as physically possible. “Do you want to lay down?” He asked, his hands already sliding up between your hips and waist. “No,” you shook your head simply. “I want you to use your thumb.” The request resulted in a red hue dusting his cheeks to his ears. More prominently by your next words. “You know how I like it,” you whispered into his ear.

The breath that left his mouth may have been shaky, but his hands were not. Reaching down in the space separating you, he easily found the hidden red bud between your thighs. There, he rubbed gentle circles. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you gave his earlobe a soft kiss before returning to his lips.

With the way he was touching you, it was only a matter of time before your body began to react a certain way. A throb made itself known and an ache a little lower. Beginning to roll your hips, you breathed out his name. “Horst,” you spoke airily into his lips.

As you blindly reached down for him, Horst stopped his thumb actions. He grabbed ahold of himself for you and lined himself up. Remaining still however, he waited for you to feel him under your gyrations. As you finally sank down onto him, he could not control the moan of your name that slipped his grasp, and clutched your thigh. The kissing had stopped, and you opened your eyes to check on him. His ears were still tinted pink and his eyes closed. His reddened lips from your kissing venture were left parted open. Slowly, you started to roll your hips against him. For a few moments, you watched his face as he was lost in pleasure.

“You’re a great chef,” you whispered praise. He looked at you through his eyelashes. “You think so, hmm?” “Ja,” you giggled, running your fingertips over his scalp. “And the restaurant is lucky to have you.” With a smiled, you kissed the tip of his nose cutely. In his bashfulness, his eyes evaded your gaze. You moved your hands to cradle the back of his head, making him face you directly. Eyes locking, you held his gaze. You strained a smirk as you saw how he reacted to your intimate interactions. But soon, you slowed your hips to a stop. “Bed?” You asked, glancing behind him. “Ja, if you want.”

Lifting yourself off of him, you heard him choke back a moan. As you took steps away from him, your legs wobbled in the slightest. Though you quickly regained control. When he stood, you playfully helped him up from the bed before mock-rushing him with a push to his back toward it. Crawling onto the bed after him, you gave a laugh. Horst had settled onto his back with one arm up and his hand behind his head.

“Comfortable?” You asked. He only smiled as you straddled him again. Horst’s breath shuttered as you grabbed him carefully and easily slid down onto him again. He mumbled to himself in what you could only assume was incoherent curse words as his eyes drifted closed from the gentle rocking of your hips. Your hands rested on his stomach, keeping yourself both steady and upright. All the while, his free hand was on your thigh. Caressing and kneading.

“You seem content with yourself,” you teased. “Of course,” he smiled broadly, “I have the best view in all of Paris.” From your flattered laugh from his unexpected compliment, you had stopped your movements. “Well, your view is going to change slightly,” you said. Laying down on top of him, you urged him with a pat of your hand to roll over with you.

With Horst now on top, you both readjusted your legs from the new position.

Running your hands up and down his back, you took a steadying breath. Being so close with your love could take your breath away. “I know that you worked hard tonight for hours straight, but you wouldn’t mind a little bit longer, would you?” Tucking his arms around you, he nuzzled his face into your neck. “I would work through the night for you.” With a kiss to your skin, he started to rock his hips against yours, seeking a suitable rhythm. Letting out a hum, you kissed his shoulder. As you listened to the sounds of his controlled breathing, you noticed something that you had not before. Which was saying something, considering how long you both had been together. His breaths were coming in time with the measured thrusts of his hips. Closing your eyes, you intended to simply enjoy.

Within you, you felt him begin to throb, and your eyes opened. Breath catching, Horst began to untangle himself from you. “I’m sorry…I have to—uhn,” he strained with furrowed brows. To your dismay, he pulled out and sat back on his heels. “No-no,” you panted, feeling your own oncoming orgasm. “Horst, please.” You beckoned him with your desiring plea to return to you. With equally ragged breaths, Horst looked to you. “Are you sure?” He asked, brows knitted up in his surprise. “Yes,” you said, reaching out to him.

Pushing back into you with a relieved moan, Horst returned to your embrace. You kissed his cheek and he repeated the gesture. Cupping your face tenderly with one hand, he increased his pace. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured, giving a laugh as you wrapped your legs around him. “Definitely not going anywhere.” “Good,” you stopped just short of a giggle. A small gasp filled your ear as he felt you begin to pulse around him. You placed your hand over his and he looked over from your actions. With his focus back on you, you smiled. Turning your head slightly toward his hand, you kissed the pad of this thumb. He moaned, and again even louder. His stomach clenched and his hips were flush with yours for a solid handful of seconds. Giving two more slow deep thrusts, he met in-time with your own before he sighed and relaxed onto you.

Though he all but collapsed, you continued to work through your height of pleasure. However faster than he had gone, you threw your pelvis up once more. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes and practically panted out beside his ear. Horst kissed your neck, and up to your cheek and lips leisurely. “Are you all right?” He asked, caressing your arm lightly. “Yes, Horst,” you smiled, looking over at him through heavy eyelids. “How are you?” “Wonderful,” he grinned, nuzzling his face to yours. “With you in my arms, how could it not be?”

~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading! And an extra big thank you again for this commission, Horst is an interesting one to write.

If you enjoyed this Horst fanfiction, I do have more insert readers with him on my Disney/Pixar Masterlist.

And if you are interested in your own writing commission, check out my post here.

[masterthespianduchovny]

There is a segment of people attempting to let Carmy off the hook for him being verbally abusive and hold Sydney entirely accountable for what happened in episode 7. But some other people admit he’s also wrong while, again, trying to hold Sydney somewhat responsible as well. I understand how easy it is to blame Sydney to an extent because she didn’t double check the button, but as she mentioned, this is entirely on him and I’ll explain why.

Before I begin, I’ll preface with: I’m not nor have I ever been a cook or chef. However, I was the student supervisor at the biggest and busiest cafeteria in the US (I don’t know if it still holds that title). For some of my shifts, I worked Friday or Saturday nights for dinner and late night at their convenience store.

I had to make sure things were stocked, cleaned, check to see if we had certain items due to dietary restrictions, move around people if someone didn’t show up for a shift and their line was absent. If I was unable to, I needed to work the line myself and/or float around. I had to write warnings based on my discretion and know what was going on on the floor at all times and with employees.

Whatever wasn’t done, I needed to do it myself. That meant restocking hot food, shelves, wiping counters, throwing away trash, etc.

Because whatever someone else didn’t do or overlooked, was a reflection on me and my leadership. It didn’t matter if I told them, it mattered that it wasn’t done.

And whatever I missed that my supervisors didn’t catch was on them and they had to deal with that with their bosses.

In Brigade, I believe, when Tina sabotaged Sydney and Carmy doesn’t want to hear excuses. It’s not because he believes Sydney literally didn’t do her job, it’s because Sydney needs to own that it wasn’t done and do it herself. That’s what leaders do. That’s what sous chefs do. Which is why Carmy needed to own later on, which he did, that he was wrong not listening to her when she said there’d be problems with the brigade. She didn’t care that he told her she had to do it, she cared that he wasn’t understanding the problems that would arise from implementing the it.

Regardless, Syd was the sous chef and with that type of responsibility you get held to a higher standard. Despite someone not listening to you or sabotaging you, in that moment, you do not pass blame. You handle that shit and keep it moving. That’s your job.

So when the pre order fiasco happens in Review, it’s literally Carmy’s job to handle Sydney’s mistake. Altogether he doesn’t directly blame her, he’s being passive aggressive, not maintaining their united image, and being verbally abusive.

When your employee makes a mistake, you don’t deal with that shit on the floor, in real time, unless absolutely necessary. That’s some, “I’ll handle this either after the shift calms down OR after work.”

Carmy allowing the pre orders to get to him and lashing out is what led to the kitchen descending into chaos. This led to an employee getting stabbed and two people quitting. These are not separate events, these are all a result of how Carmy managed them after they were bombarded by pre orders.

His behavior was in contradiction to the lesson he tried to teach Sydney in Brigade. Because he didn’t keep his cool or appropriately take control, that is why the situation is entirely on him and not Sydney. Even if it’s not a pre order oversight, nights like this happen—nights you feel like you’re drowning—and it’s on the cdc and/or sous chef to right the ship and power through the storm.

Verbally abusing people is not how you do that. It actually makes things worse. Perhaps it works in fine dining, but in a restaurant like that, in Chicago of all places, that’s not going to fly.

If he’d kept his cool, things wouldn’t have spiraled OR if he’d canceled the orders completely.

Instead, Carmy tried to honor and impossible situation and he became more and more verbally abusive and some people want Sydney to own some blame in that situation???

Comparatively, when the blown fuse episode happened, which was partially on Marcus, what happened? Sydney’s cool head served as guidance for the other workers, which allowed them to complete service as Carmy wanted. After things calmed down, Carmy went to Marcus to assure him and let him know shit happens and you will make mistakes.

Where are people calling for Marcus to be responsible for the fuse even though he was running behind on cakes, after being told not get to lost in that shit, and pushes the machine to it’s limits which blew the fuse?

No one is saying that because Sydney wasn’t verbally abusing people or spiraling, which didn’t lead to a chain reaction happening. And that was a situation that easily could’ve happened.

Yet, Sydney makes a mistake and Carmy makes a series of bad decisions that makes the situation infinitely worse and it’s, “No, Sydney needs to own some of that situation too.”