Okay, I Love König From COD But Istg Me Scrolling The COD Tags Late At Night, And To See A Closeup Photo

Lmao???

Ron: I feel like we’re forgetting something important.

Hermione: You mean the homework due tomorrow?

Harry: The Basilisk in the pipes?

Ron: …I was going to say my sandwich, but yeah, those too.

THEYRE COMPLETE AHAHAHA

more like Dilf by Daylight am i right fellas

Hi there!

So I just read your rules and I hope I'm not disrespecting any

So Price x son! Reader (platonic of course) where price invites 141 to his house and find out he has a son. I just have this stuck in my mind where the son (adopted or biological, I don't care) walks into the house and there are these Buff military men and he's just like "dad there are weird man in our house" or the son just opening the door making eye contact with everyone and just slamming the door shut after about a minute.

Sorry that this is so long, I hope you can work with this somehowe

Have the greatest day :D

I absolutely love your idea anon! I find it really wholesome. And I don't mind if it's long, the longer the better in my opinion. I hope this is what you wanted, thank you for your request, and have the greatest day too mate^-^

Papa Price is real

Summary: Your father is finally coming home from his job for a while but unknown to you your father is bringing home some guests and maybe you might get along with them better than your father thought.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff, fatherly love, light swearing, gen z stuff<33, he/him pronouns (the reader is around 15-17), mistakes, a little rushed/short

Character(s): Price x son! Reader (platonic)

Ever since you woke up you had a huge smile on your face, I mean who wouldn't feel that way when they found out that their dad was coming home last night. You almost couldn't sleep from the news alone.

You even made sure to wear the hat that he gave you when he last visited. It was an otter bucket hat.

It almost felt like it had been an eternity since you sat down on the couch waiting for your dad to come home, glancing at the clock every 2 minutes. But the time that you went to check the time again it'd only been 3 hours, making you groan loudly.

"Hun? what's wrong?" your mother would call out to you from the kitchen, knowing why you acted like this she missed him too but nevertheless she still asked. a soft smile grew on her face as she look towards your direction.

"I feel like I've aged 50 years!!" you would shout into a pillow, having nothing to do but sit there and go on your phone from time to time, leaving your mother to laugh to herself and shake her head.

It had almost been 5 hours and you felt like you were going to pass away until you heard a knock on the door.

He's here

Your mother didn't have time to move before she saw a flash of you sprint towards the door, a wide grin spread across you face as you opened the door.

"Father dearest-"

"..."

SLAM

Last time you remembered your father didn't have a mohawk and a baby face or a skull balaclava- which you must admit was fucking cool. wait. Where are you getting robbed? No, if you were they wouldn't knock...unless they are just really shitty at their job.

Which what you had frantically pieced together you quickly grabbed a pillow and opened the door again, ready to throw said pillow at the first person you see. Leaving your poor mother to process what you were doing.

"You have a son!?-"

Headshot!

"HA L"

"[Name]-" That's when you froze and looked at where the voice came from, it was your dad! So you weren't getting robbed.

"Dad there are weird buff men in front of our door."

"Alright..."

Things could have gone worse but they didn't! After papa Price explained who they were and why they were here you 'apologised' to the mohawk man who was called soap, which was weird but you don't judge.

You were just talking to the group of buff boys, calling Soap bestie whenever you had the chance while your father helped your mother make dinner. The boys trying their best to understand the things you were talking about, Gaz being the only person understanding half of what you were saying since he was the youngest out of the task force.

"My mother's cooking is bussin'"

"Excuse me???"

A/N: I really hope you liked this because I don't know if I did that well with this :')

It’s them

Zamn zaddy 😫

「 They Said I Couldn’t Be a Sniper… 」

—

if you enjoyed this set, please reblog!

Hey! Huge fan of you art! I saw that you posted about requests! Could I request some more unmasked Danny??? Or maybe the Legion? Have a nice day!

thank you! sure

Choices have consequences

Alejandro Vargas x reader (GN)

Warning: light angst, culinary crimes, talk about past food insecurity.

Summary: There is an unwritten rule that you assumed Alejandro would have learned by now, after three years of committed relationship: don't anger the cook. You were wrong.

On AO3

A/N: I'm like, five vodka cocktails in. If there are any mistakes I'll fix them when I'm sober. Also I got inspired by @ragingbookdragon 's badass reader because I just know Alejandro is. So. Whipped.

When you had decided to move in together, an arrangement was made: all household chores would be shared when he was present, but you would be in charge of meal planning and cooking.

It was a convenient set-up for the two of you; you wouldn't be burdened with all the chores when he was off-duty, and would only look after your own load of housekeeping when you were by yourself. Besides, Alejandro was by no means an incapable man when cooking, you were just better than him in that regard - by a lightyear.

To you, cooking wasn't just a means to an end - it was an act of service, a declaration of love. And to date a passionate man as Alejandro, you showed the same passion for your culinary art.

The kitchen was your realm, and you were the regent. No matter whoever was going to be the recipient of your hard work, you always chose the finest ingredients. You loved to experiment with flavours and aromas. You had transformed an unused closet at the far end of your kitchen into a walk-in pantry - your spices occupied nearly an entire wall in there.

You put your heart and soul into every dish, it didn't matter if it was for Alejandro and you, a house full of guests, or just yourself. Those close to the both of you knew that a dinner invitation to your house meant a culinary experience that could rival that of a Michelin star restaurant.

And you were damn proud of yourself for that. You nurtured yourself on the faces of your guests when their head tilted slightly backwards, their eyes closed, and a soft moan escaped them as soon as they tried your meals. Alejandro himself had more than once interrupted himself from eating to cup your face in his hands and kiss you to thank you for your efforts.

Which is why the very words that came out of his mouth hit you like a train dead on.

Granted, he didn't say them to you directly, you overheard him on accident the previous day while he was talking on the phone. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he wasn't being secretive either. He was sitting in the living room, and the conversation was quite light-hearted, so you assumed that the topic was nothing related to his work. You still kept quiet, sneaking behind him to grab a book you had meant to start reading for a while.

The conversation had shifted to meals, somehow, and it caught your attention immediately when he mentioned some of the meals you often made. It never failed to warm your heart when he gushed about your culinary skills.

"...I mean, I appreciate the effort because it's such a hassle to cook and they do it all from scratch, but a few times it felt like I was eating rations in the field."

...What?

He couldn't be talking about your food, right?

...Right?

He ended his sentence with a chuckle, and you just stood there, fingers grasping the spine of the book. Your eyes were fixed on the shelf as his conversation moved on, his voice fading from your perception.

There was a weight on your chest that expanded to the bottom of your stomach and to the middle of your head, settling right behind your eyes. Knowing what was to come, you left the book in its place and walked back to the room you'd come from, just as quietly as you'd arrived.

After twenty minutes or so, you emerged from your hiding place, face freshly washed and - hopefully - no traces of the little angst marathon you went through. Alejandro still sat in the living room, this time he was watching a rerun of some fútbol match, completely unaware of the beast he had unknowingly set loose.

You walked straight to the kitchen with a newfound determination, a mission if you will. After gulping two cups of water to rehydrate yourself - and a quick prayer to your late abuela for forgiveness for the crime you were about to commit - you put your hands to work. You usually took about two hours to cook, but you were sure that you would be over much quicker than that.

You carefully washed, sliced, and prepared the main ingredients, making sure that the meal would have everything necessary to look absolutely normal. You were akin to an explosives expert assembling a bomb, every step carefully calculated to achieve your goal.

The light scent of that escaped from the pot caught Alejandro's attention, and he robotically moved to set the table. You stole a glance at him, finding him eager and looking forward to dinner with a tiny grin on his face.

Estúpido mimado.

A few more minutes passed and the rice stew was ready. You looked at it, quite bland and lacking some colour, and knowing exactly how it would taste. Memories from a time long past flashed in your mind and you forced yourself to shoo them away. Carefully, you brought the pot to the table and filled two plates - Alejandro's, like always, had a extra spoonful.

You both sat down and started eating. You kept your eyes on your plate as you heard him chomp down eagerly, then quietly slow down until pulling to a stop. You tried your best not to break into a devilish smirk as he finally spoke to you.

"... Mi amor?" He sounded confused, if not a bit concerned, "the food tastes... Uh... Different than usual."

"...Yeah?," You quipped, knowing exactly what was wrong with the food, it wasn't just bland. It was sick dog level of blandness. No spices at all, no herbs, not even salt. "I tried a new recipe today."

"Uh, okay?," He frowned a bit, slowly pushing the food around with his plate, wondering how to tell you that he didn't like it one bit, "it just... It has no spices...?"

You can't contain your smirk this time, it felt like getting away with a crime. It was a criminal masterpiece.

"Pues claro, mi amor," your voice was sweet, but the mirth in your tone couldn't be hidden, and ran a shiver down his spine, "I wanted to emulate the flavour of the rations you seem to love so much."

Alejandro blinked once, twice, and felt his blood run cold. Had you heard him?

"Mi amor-" he began, but you interrupted him, pointing your spoon to his face.

"Escúchame bien Alejandro Vargas," you scolded him and he gulped and shut his mouth, sitting straight in his chair, "this kind of food would've been a banquet for me growing up. The sort of food I so lovingly dedicate myself to prepare everyday is the result of my dreams and desires from when I was a kid, and you disrespected that by acting como un estúpido mimado."

"Pero claro," you pitch raised and Alejandro had flashbacks of his own mamá whenever he got a scolding, "el señor put my meals at the same level of the rations he gets from the army, which I know how they taste like and don't you forget that," you accentuated every syllable with the spoon, which was still pointed at his face. Alejandro gulped as he watched you, and you continued on, "so I decided that you will eat this meal - all of it - and be thankful for every meal you receive from today on, mine or the army's, because making fun of the meals I so lovingly make for you is the same as making fun of me as a kid who got this only when there was something to celebrate. Entendido?"

"...Si, mi vida," Alejandro stated with a nod, feeling like a little kid under your harsh glare, "cada palabra."

"Good," you nodded, and carried on with eating your own meal, "que sea la última vez."

Alejandro took a few seconds to carry on with his meal, making a mental note to bring you a bouquet of flowers in the morning with your breakfast.