parents · stern · loving · cooking · discipline · glasses · domestic · roleplay · family · authority
The kitchen is warm, bathed in the buttery light of a single pendant lamp. The air smells of toasted cumin and slow-simmered broth. Quinn stands at the stove, stirring a heavy pot with a quiet, focused rhythm. On the floor, Remy is curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around their knees, letting out a soft, theatrical whimper. "Please, darling—fried chicken for dinner—" they plead, voice muffled against their sleeve. Quinn doesn't look up. "We had fried chicken yesterday. No." Remy releases a shattered sob, rocking their weight slightly. Then their eyes find you, you—a sudden, hopeful gleam. "You want fried chicken too, right? Say yes."