#I only made a few cookies and put the rest of the dough in the freezer (in the cool whip container so it works out perfectly 🤣)

[stonersweetiexx]

I decided to make some cookies!

I used boxed spice cake mixed with 1 container of cool whip. Then I rolled them in cinnamon powdered sugar.

I modified this recipe for Strawberry fluffies ☺️

https://youtu.be/s4DvnyIcxP8

[penkura]

Christmas Cookies

Summary: Sanji and your daughter Angel make this year's Christmas cookies and her wish makes him grateful for his life.

Note: Ahh this should be considered part of my fanfic 'knowing' and the two pieces I wrote that followed it, but don't worry, it's only the names for Sanji’s kids. :)

“So you’re going to help daddy make the Christmas cookies this year, right, Angel??”

“Yeah!!”

The little grin your Four-year-old daughter gives nearly kills Sanji every time, he still can’t believe she exists and that she’s yours, with her blonde hair tied into two little pigtails and her blue eyes shining bright at the thought of baking with him. He’s anxiously waited for this day ever since she was born, and now that she’s old enough, she can help him make and decorate cookies this year.

He’s so excited to share this with her and for Angel to enjoy more than just eating the cookies and icing.

“Is Sora gonna help?”

“He’s still a bit a too small, sweetheart, but we can make one just for him, okay?”

“Okay!”

It’s just Sanji and Angel on board that morning, everyone else has gone into town to stock up on supplies and you’d taken your one-year-old son Sora with you so he could have some time off the ship too. Sanji decided that was the perfect time to make the cookies with Angel and keep them from Luffy at first, knowing your captain.

Angel is excited herself, she’s ready to help make the dough and cut out the cookies, bake and decorate them, she has a plan in her own little head about what to do. She wanted to help last year and Sanji was prepared to let her, but she came down with the flu and was so upset about the fact she couldn’t help make the cookies that she didn’t even eat any of them. This year she’s perfectly fine and happy to help.

She listens to every instruction Sanji gives her on what to add and when, how much, and Angel is happy to do all the stirring until the ingredients really turn into dough. Sanji knew she’d be annoyed and impatiently to wait for the dough to chill, so he prepared some the night before once you’d gotten Angel and Sora to bed, and pulled out the second batch so she could cut out the shapes she wanted and he could put them in the oven right away.

Angel grabs one right away once the first batch of cookies are out of the oven, making Sanji grab her hand in return to stop her.

“Hey now! Wait for them to cool, sweetheart!”

“But daddy, I want one!” her little whine and pout make Sanji sigh, but he still shakes his head.

“I don’t want you to burn yourself, Angel. Let them cool down, then you can decorate them, okay?”

“Okay…”

Once the cookies are called down, Angel snatches up a few of the people shaped ones, going to work after Sanji gives her the icing she wants to use. He goes back to removing cookies from the oven and adding another sheet in, stepping outside to have a quick cigarette before going back to check on the cookies and your daughter. When he tries to look at what she’s doing, Angel almost throws herself on the table and pouts, trying to hide her work. It makes Sanji laugh before he pats her head.

“What are you working on, Angel?”

The pout stays on her face as she thinks, eventually sitting back in her seat and moving her arms out of the way so he can see.

“I made us…but I wanted show you and mommy…”

Sanji feels his heart swelling at that, and he just has to look, Angel starts pointing at each one and telling him which one is which person in her family.

“This one’s you and this one’s mommy,” of course he figured that, the one with yellow hair covering one eye and another with your hair color, “And this one is me, this one is Sora!”

It makes him so happy to see the way Angel has decorated her cookies, with the four of you and even the rest of your crewmates. There’s one with a little straw hat, another with three swords, one that she tried to make a long nose on, one with orange hair, she really tried to make one holding a book, one with blue hair, and another with an afro. She did make sure to grab one of the reindeer cookies and give it a pink and blue hat, and did her best to make one look like Jinbei.

Sanji still can’t believe how lucky he is, to have you and your kids and the rest of your crewmates as his family, while he hugs Angel close and kisses her head. He tells her he’s so proud of her and she did so well, she’s very talented at decorating cookies! She makes him so grateful that his life has turned out the way it has, having you as his wife and now your children, he and Reiju are on good terms and speaking, he still can’t believe that. Everything is better than he ever could have hoped or prayed for, he’s still beyond thankful you met that day at the Baratie and changed everything for him.

He almost missed the one with pink hair that has to be Reiju, before he notices one more that confuses him.

“Who’s this last one supposed to be, Angel?”

“Oh!” she grins at him before saying, “That’s the baby sister I want!”

Sanji nearly passes out hearing that, but doesn’t bring it up to you for a few weeks more, wondering if Angel forgot about it or not. He doesn’t even want you to think about another baby until Sora is at least three, so when he does bring it up and you laugh it off, he’s not worried you’re keeping something from him.

He just prays that Angel doesn’t get upset if she gets a little brother again.

[judes-hoe]

Birthday wish ~ KM9

Genre ~ smut(18+), fluff

Summary ~ it’s kylian birthday, all he wishes was to just have a calm day at home with you, when night comes you end the day with the perfect gift…

Warnings ~ subby kyky, dom reader, oral (male receiving), teasing, orgasm denial, very little ‘mommy’ usage, very much ‘good boy’ usage, p in v (unprotected), boob play,

A/N ~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYKY!!!! Love you sm!!!🩷🩷 (I used the competitive meme, yes I got it from @kymb-10 but she said it was OKAY for me to use!!!!)

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Kylians last birthday landed on when PSG had a match, so you and him just went out with the team to celebrate the win and his birthday. Though that night he told you his wish for his next birthday, he wanted just a day with you, and you only. Nothing else.

So now, after the move to Real Madrid. The months passed quickly and it was finally 20th, December, Kylians birthday.

You woken up extra early and made him his favorite cheat breakfast meal. Then brought it to him in bed. “Bébé, you didn’t need to do this.” He said and took the tray placing it on his lap. “It’s your birthday, the only time of the year I can spoil you.” You said getting back in your spot next to him. “Okay I’ll give you that.” He said biting into the delicious pancake. Letting out a groan of approval.

Kylian fed you bits and pieces too, before placing the empty tray on the bedside table. “So what does my beautiful girl have planned for me.” He looked at you. You smile and wipe syrup off the corner of his mouth. “Well you wished last year that you just wanted your birthday to be me and you.” You explain. “So I just planned a day of baking cookies, watching movies.” You tell him.

You and Kylian just laid in bed, until around 1pm, you decided to get up to make cookies. You had cleaned up the kitchen before getting everything ready. Kylian didn’t like the repackaged cookies, he likes your homemade cookies.

Making the dough was fun, a little flour getting on your noses. “We still have some dough left.” You said looking at the left over dough. “We should make little ginger bread people!” You said excitedly. “Or we can see who makes the best!” Kylian suggested, you give him a look letting out a little laugh. “What? Why are you laughing.” He looks at you.

“You know, sometimes in the life. I’m too competitive. It’s good to be competitive on the field— but in the life you don’t.” You imitating him. He gives you a deadpan look. “Really?” He said unamused. “Yeah.” You giggle.

You and Kylian make two ginger bread people before putting everything in the oven. You and Kylian then make your way to the couch, Turing the fireplace on, snuggling up together with blankets, and putting on a movie.

About 25 minutes into the movie the timer goes off and you go check the cookies. You take them out of the oven, putting them on a big plate and going back. Setting the plate on the coffee table and snuggling back up with him. Kylian tucks you under his arm. “Thank you, this is all I need on my birthday.” He whispered as he kisses the top of your head. “…no need to thank me, I’m just giving you want you wish me.” You tell him.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, watching many movies, snacks, cookies, and then Kylians favorite home cooked meal. After dinner it was around 8pm, the sun had now set, and more snow falling outside. “How about we go to the bedroom, snuggle up, and just relax now.” You tell him, kylian nods and follows you to the bedroom you stop in the doorway and face him. “What?” He asked. “I forgot my night water, can you go get it and fill it up?” You asked, it was true you forgot it, on purpose. You always had to have your cup filled with cold water, you tended to wake up thirsty at night.

Kylian presses a kiss to your forehead and walks away to the kitchen. You quickly undress, your sexy white lingerie, that left little to the imagination. You bought this a few days ago for his birthday specifically. You sit on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. “One night wat—“ Kylians words cut short and mouth falling open when he walks back to the room. “My god..” he finishes. He saw that look in your eyes. The one that told him you were in control, that you can do whatever you want and he cant say anything or else he’s a ‘bad boy’ and he’s learned his lesson the hard way.

“Come on, you know the drill, undress for me pretty boy.” You demand, Kylian quickly setting the water on the dresser. Undressing himself quickly, climbing on the bed, and laying his back on the pillows. “Look at you, so good for me..” you said crawling onto the bed, on all fours crawling until your between his legs. “Mommy..” he whimpers.

You smirk, leaning forward, you boobs smushed between your arms. He lets out a groan, his dick getting harder by the second. Kylian was such a boob guy. You lean down pressing kisses all over his neck. Lowering a little to suck that space between his neck and shoulder that always makes him squirm. “F-fuck..” he stutters out a moan. You lower more, moving very slowly. Pressing kisses all over his chest, down to his abs, and all the way down to his cock.

Purposely kissing around it to his thighs. “You’re doing good, just like a good boy.” You mumble to him. You finally give him what he wanted. Pressing his kiss to the head on his dick. Kylians eyes flutter a little. “Tell me what you want baby.” You said running a finger along his shaft. “You..your mouth, your cunt…something mommy…” he whimpers and begs.

You take your thumb and rub the small bit of pre cum around the head of it. “Good boy…” you smirk and slowly take him into your mouth. Kylian lets out a series of whimpers and whines. His grip in the sheets tightened. “S—shit..” he groans.

You slowly start to move your head but also start using your tongue on him. Kylians eyes flutter and he moans. “Shit…please…so close..” he said. You pull your head off him, making him buck his hips and whine, looking at you desperately. “no no— please, I’m a good boy.” He said. “It’s my birthday don’t do this to me.” He begs.

You smirk and move yourself to straddle him. “Look at you begging like a good boy.” You say leaning down pulling him into a deep kiss. “Mommy’s good boy..” you mumble. You reach under you, pulling the thong to the side, grabbing his cock and lining it up. He looks up at you, desperate, and vulnerable eyes looking at you, begging you. You slowly sink onto him, Kylian watches as you slowly take his full length.

He lets out a breathy moan. Kylian watches you slowly rocking your hips against his lap, adding a small bounce to it. “P—permission to touch you?” He asked looking up at you. You softly nod, letting out moans yourself. One hand going to your hip, the other taking your bra off. His mouth immediately latching to your boob.

You throw your head back, a hand on his chest to balance yourself. You speed up your movements. “Shit…fuck I’m coming!!” You moan loudly. Clenching around his cock, coming hard around him. He bucks his hips, coming right behind you. After you denied him the first time he was already on edge. He takes his mouth off of you and moans.

You lay against his chest, his cock slowly softening and slipping out of you. His cum dripping out of you onto his cock. “Best…birthday…ever…” Kylian says breathlessly. “Glad you loved it.” You said kissing his chest.

After you did all the work, kylian clean both of you up with a warm wet cloth. Helping you put his t-shirt on. He then put his boxers on and laid with you again. “Can I have the same thing next year?” He asked. “Of course.”

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

[allywthsr]

BAKING COOKIES | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando bake some cookies

wordcount: 1.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: this is my favorite cookie recipe, try it out!! And the picture on the right is my pictures, look at how stunning it is🥹. Like always, comment your thoughts!!

advent calendar

”Okay Lando, are you ready?“

”They’re gonna burn.“

”No, they’re not!“

”I‘m in the kitchen, of course, they’ll burn.“

”I‘m watching them, and they won’t.“

You tied your apron before you helped Lando with his. It became a tradition to bake cookies together, and this year was no different.

”Let’s get the ingredients out on the kitchen island, two hundred and fifty grams of butter, five hundred grams of flour, two-hundred and fifty grams of sugar, six egg yolks, and a pinch of salt.“

With every ingredient you listed, Lando opened different cupboards and the fridge to get all the things on the counter, placing various containers with different contents. You recently got more Pinterest-looking like containers and you loved them, the square-shaped boxes had big white stickers on them with different foods, that were written in cursive. Thankfully, due to your spacious kitchen, you had enough space to both move around and do your thing.

”As always, baby, can you sift the flour on the surface?“

He nodded and got the sieve out of the cupboard, weighed five-hundred grams of flour in a bowl, and let the flour fall through the tiny holes, creating a hill of fine flour. Next, he added the two-hundred and fifty grams of sugar on top of it, and because you two made this recipe every year, he automatically squeezed a dent in the middle of the hill with his long and slick fingers. While he was doing that, you got the six eggs out of the carton and separated the egg yolk from the egg white into a bowl, a few drops of egg were spilled on the surface, but you could clean that later. The egg yolks were poured into the dent of the flour and Lando got the two-hundred and fifty grams of butter out of its package and cut it into small pieces which he placed around and on the rest of the flour. Last but not least, you added a pinch of salt and now began the more or less fun part.

Kneading.

It was always messy, took way too much time, and both of you wanted the other one to do it. Every year you played a round of rock-paper-scissors and mostly Lando won, so you had to do the work.

”Who‘s going to knead this year?“

”Rock-paper-scissors, but only one round?“

You nodded and held your hand out. With three swinging movements and both of you saying Rock-paper-scissors out loud, Lando and you held out a scissor, so you had to play another round. Repeating what you just did, you went for the rock but Lando chose paper, which made you the loser of the game.

That meant, kneading.

So you got to work and removed everything that could catch flour on it, from your arm.

With skilled movements, you pushed all the ingredients together and started to knead, as always the texture felt weird and funny. Lando was laughing at the weird faces you pulled, the egg was cold, the butter soft and the little grains from the sugar were not mixing with the flour, it was a mess. You tried to knead as fast as you could to get over with it, but it felt like a lifetime, now Lando was filming you with his phone, recording a video to send to the Norris and Y/L/N family group chat. Almost everyone laughed at your expressions that clearly showed your discomfort with the mixture that was in between your fingers, only the mothers were giving you advice on how to get the perfect consistency of the dough. You had to have warm hands, so the ingredients would mix faster, but now it was too late, your hands were sticky with the egg and flour and you couldn’t warm them up.

Eventually, Lando put his phone down and hugged you from behind, watching your hands from over your shoulder, leaving slight kisses on your shoulder and neck.

”I love you, baby.“

”I love you too, Lan.“

He was a clingy boy when it came to Christmas. Always hugging you, always kissing you, and he loved to watch Christmas movies and cuddle. Maybe the Christmas spirit always gets to him.

When the dough slowly started to form, you were happy. At least you were beginning to see some progress, within ten minutes it became a hard dough, you rolled it into a ball and wrapped it in cling foil, now it had to rest in the fridge for one hour. During the hour you cleaned the mess that you two created and got out the cookie cutters, the rolling pin, and more flour as well as preparing the baking trays, pre-heating the oven to two hundred degrees Celsius. Recently you bought some new cookie cutters and you were in love, little reindeers, Santa’s, elf’s, and the list goes on and on.

Lando was singing Christmas songs and running around the kitchen while you tried to set everything up, every now and then he would hug you and spin you around the kitchen, trying to get you to dance with him.

Before you knew it, your phone was beeping, signaling the hour was over and the dough was ready. You divided the dough into multiple sections and began to roll the first piece into a small layer, about two centimeters thick, now Lando took a cookie cutter, and put it in the flour to cover the edges with it, so the dough wouldn’t stick to it and pressed the Santa into the yellow mixture. He put the Santa on a baking tray that you covered with baking paper, with a proud grin.

”Look, Y/N! It’s our first cookie this year.“

You stroked his cheek and looked for the next cutter to create a cookie. A snowman caught your eye, you covered it in flour and pressed it in the dough, and carefully you took the cookie on the baking paper. Both of you repeated that step multiple times until the first tray was filled with little shapes. You put it in the oven for about ten minutes and slowly the kitchen started to smell like a Christmas bakery. Lando was being the funny one he is and tried to get flour in your face, eventually, your nose was white, your left cheek had traces of white and your forehead had a white thumb on it after Lando said ’Simba‘ while crackling. He is the most unserious twenty-four-year-old there is.

Little Christmas trees, reindeers, stars, bells, etc. made their way on the baking trays that you put into the oven. Every ten minutes freshly baked cookies made their way on a cooling grid, or in someone’s mouth, until the last batch was done and now it was time to wait for them to cool down. In the meantime, you cleaned up again and this time you prepared for the decorating progress, melted white and dark chocolates were placed on the kitchen table, next to sprinkles and colorful royal icing you found in the store. Lando wasn’t a big help at all, he was clinging onto you and hugging you from behind, you would give him something to put on the table and he’d be back in no time, cuddling. It was cute tho, you loved that he showed how he truly is, a cuddling teddy bear who loves to eat sweets and cookies, especially Christmas cookies.

After a Christmas sing-off, the cookies were cold enough to be decorated. Lando immediately got to work and so did you, snowmen were painted white with brown chocolate spots to recreate the face, Christmas trees got green royal icing all over them, and other cookies just got a dip in the chocolate and sprinkles. It was a mess but it was a lot of fun, every now and then Lando would giggle and show you what he did, a lot of cookies got fours all over them, claiming it was enough decoration.

When both of you were finished and the place was cleaned up, Lando sat on the couch, munching on the cookies and you were sure you had to bake new ones next week.

[kayrrhin]

hello!

i saw your commissions were opened after a fic i read, idk if you write for multiple characters but i’d like to request for robin, law, cora, yamato, and ace, with no peculiar pronouns for the reader, it can be fluff or nsfw, as you feel more comfortable with!

feel free to add more or not write for some ofc, no pressure it’s totally understandable, don’t overdo yourself, please and thanks!

I'm going to be honest, you made a commission which literally features all of my all time favorite babies so let's goooo, i also assumed it was all separated since there were no specification, good reading!

3am baking

characters: Robin, Law, Corazon, Yamato, Ace

fluff, use of pet names, ft. teenager law in Cora's part

Reader's gender is not referred so it can be any gender

Warnings: use of swear words, a bit suggestive at Law's part, french

Robin:

"wow, so far it looks good!"

You looked at the cupcakes you and your girlfriend were making, so far there was only the dough but wow it looked good.

"I'm amazed that we're able to make such good cupcakes at this time of day, at least so far the dough is good!"

You grin at the archeologist and wipe some of the flour off her nose.

"Thanks, love."

You smiled and began to put the dough into the moulds, putting them in the oven.

"Now all we have to do is wait!"

Robin put her arms around you from behind and kissed your temple,

"I just hope Sanji doesn't take this the wrong way"

You chuckled a little

"The only thing Sanji might do is cry because we made it ourselves and he didn't cook it for us, or be amazed because it's going to be super good!"

You kissed her cheek and smiled proudly.

"haha, I guess you're right, I have to say though, what a strange urge to want to cook at such an hour, darling"

"Yes, I know, but at least we'll have snacks to read"

She smiles sweetly and kisses you, her soft lips resting on yours.

"Actually, I just hope they're still good tomorrow"

You looked up in a thinking manner for a bit,

"aaah you're right...it's probably going to be a little drier depending on how it goes..."

Your lover chuckled and kissed you.

"Don't worry too much, with a bit of tea it's going to be great, love"

After a little while you finished the cupcakes and boy were they good, as was the sleep you got afterwards.

Law

"You're messing up your sleep schedule right now."

Your boyfriend said, watching you make cookie dough,

"Oh, you're one to talk! At least it's not to overwork myself but to make cookies!"

You smile and continue to work on your work of art, but you feel someone approaching you.

"Let me help you at least, it might be fun... I guess."

He seemed a little embarrassed but helped you with the cookies anyway,

"Aaaw, thanks, love!"

You smiled at him and continued to bake, when the dough was separated, the surgeon put them in the oven, setting the temperature correctly.

"Can you put a timer on please?"

"Yep, I got it!"

You set the timer and start waiting, Law lifts you up to sit on the counter and kisses you on the forehead.

"I'll never understand how you can cook for ten people in the middle of the night"

He then kisses your jaw and puts his hands on your waist,

"I'll say it's my will to eat that gives me this strength, or a mental breakdown"

He chuckled and kissed your lips, slowly moving down to your neck, kissing it and leaving a few marks here and there, he started to get a little more impatient only for the timer to remind you both that the cookies were still in the oven,

"Yes! My cookies!"

You got off the counter, took out the cookies and turned off the oven.

"wooow, these look dashing!"

"Yes. They are."

You laugh, seeing your boyfriend a little frustrated by the sudden stop,

"Come on, sweetheart, we can continue where we left off for a few minutes, the cookies still need to cool."

"I don't know if I love you or hate you, [Name]-ya"

Corazon

"I'm surprised we made it this far without burning the kitchen down!"

You've finished putting your mixture on the plate to put what will soon be brownies in the oven,

"Me too, you've really taken the easiest thing to do"

Your lover wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his giant body.

"Yeah, I figured at 3am, burning the house down wasn't the best way to make something"

You laugh, nuzzling your face into his chest, him, resting his head on top of yours.

"You're right, I'm not sure Law would like us to set the house on fire."

He pulled his face closer to yours and kissed the tip of your nose, then your temple, and lips.

"He'd probably kick our asses if we did, I wonder who the real adults are"

You both laughed and stayed like that for a little while, to be fair the reason he hadn't set the kitchen on fire was because you were making sure he wasn't near anything that could catch fire, mainly his coat which was left in the living room for that specific reason.

"I think the brownies are good, let me turn off the stove"

You did so and smelled the brownies,

"wow, that smells really good, mi vida, we did a great job!"

He kissed you on the cheek and stumbled, causing you to lose your balance.

"OH FUCK—"

You looked at the brownies that were about to fall out, but they were replaced by a pillow.

"hah?"

"Can you be careful??? First I wake up because you can't keep it down, when I get up you're immediately about to injure yourself, and you're the adults here?"

"Right! Sorry we woke you up..."

"and thanks for saving us from a third degree burn!"

The teenager looked at you both and sighed.

" It's okay, plus it smells good, it would be sad to let it go to waste"

You look at your partner and both laughed

"Well, I guess it couldn't have gone without at least one little mistake"

Yamato

"Woooh! [Name], look, it's growing!"

You giggled at your golden retriever boyfriend who was looking at the gateau au yaourt in the stove.

"Yeah, that's the baking powder, baby"

Your boyfriend looked at you in awe, it was the first time in a long time he'd cooked in a real kitchen, so when you said you wanted to make a cake at 2:56am, he looked at you and instantly got up, already jumping towards the kitchen.

"This is so cool! And it smells so good too! My love, you are so good at baking! You are a god/goddess!"

Your boyfriend lifted you up in his arms, you laughed at his gesture.

" Pretty boy, I think you're over-reacting, I only have basic cooking skill"

He laughed and peppered your face with kisses, which made you giggle.

"Love, can you put me down? I need to turn off the oven"

"Oh yes, sorry!"

He puts you down and lets you reach the oven, you turn it off and take out the chocolate cake, the smell of the cake reaches your nostrils, but you smell something else, like vanilla.

"Wow, that smells good, you know why it smells like va...ni...la?", Finishing your sentence, you turn your head to notice the empty bottle of vanilla extract on the counter.

"Um... it smelled good, and like vanilla so..."

"Please tell me the bottle wasn't full."

You prayed for a second, imagining that the strong taste of vanilla was too much for your taste buds and mentally cried, but your boyfriend assured you that the bottle was almost empty when he did so.

"Ok, time to try it then, I really hope you're not lying because it smells like vanilla hell right now".

You took a bite and ate it, it was indeed very good and the vanilla taste wasn't overwhelming, which reassured your taste buds, you kissed your lover and took the cake to bring it in your room.

"Ah! I told you I didn't put it all in!"

Your boyfriend exclaimed, proud that he had not made a dumb mistake (for once).

"Yes, you did! I think it's time to eat it while reading about Oden, don't you think, big guy?"

"YES!"

Ace

"oui, oui, baguette ! Quoisan !"

Your boyfriend laughed as he helped you prepare the croissants.

"Ace, shut the fuck up, it's 3am if Tatch hears us, we're dead"

The last time Tatch caught you, you were punished by cleaning the bathroom for 3 months, but you both had a sudden urge to cook after a long make out session.

"Come on, this time we're doing a good job and the ingredients were paid by us, this time if he catches us he won't have anything to blame us for"

He smiles as he rolls the dough into a croissant shape.

"You're right but still, I'm not sure having two dumbasses in your kitchen at 3am is the best way to wake up, even if you just want a glass of water."

the freckled boy finished making the shape and placed a napkin on the plate to let it sit and walked over to you and threw his arms around your waist.

"But I like to cook at night with my dumbass and my dumber self"

He chuckled and kissed your cheek.

"Pff, you're so cheesy, what's happening to you so suddenly, love? A second ago you were speaking broken French if I remember correctly."

You look at him, amused by his sudden display of affection.

"Hey, it's not my fault that my heart races when I see you."

"Oh, you're in your flirty state again, finish the croissant, idiot, and kiss me afterwards."

You both chuckled and he put his lips to yours, he was so goofy, my Lord.

"You two again???"

"Fuck, Tatch, wait, we can explain!"

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello! Could I request some fluff for captain Obi please?

I was thinking about something that his crush does that makes him stop working? Like something cute he just exe.stopped working.

Thank you!

Word Count:753

Pairing: Captain Obi x Gn!Reader

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for requesting. Fire force is one of my favorites and there’s not enough content out there so thank you for this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always remember to Hydrate or Diedrate.

   Akitaru Obi is the kind of guy who speaks his mind no matter what, that’s what makes him a great captain. Only problem is there is one member of Company 8 that can render Obi speechless, Y/n. When they joined Company 8 everyone was just glad to have another crew member to help lighten the load on the small unit. No one ever expected that the nerdy 3rd generation would be able to break the great Captain Obi.

   It started out with small things, like Y/n offering to help out with cleaning up Obi’s office so his workout equipment wouldn’t get in the way of meetings, or Y/n offering to make dinner when everyone was exhausted from a hard day of dealing with infernals. Obi admired how much Y/n was willing to do in order to help everyone out, and that’s all he thought it was. What both Obi and Y/n failed to notice, but was quickly picked up by the less dense members of Company 8, was how there was a slight hint of favoritism aimed at the Pyrokinetic from the Captain.

  Obi had unintentionally started to put Y/n above the rest of the Squad. Not in large ways but more so checking in on them repeatedly after they took a hit during a call, or giving them extra breaks from paperwork when they make a comment about being bored. Maki and Hinawa had both noticed and tried to ask him about it, but Obi just brushed them off saying he was like that with everyone.

   This all went on for a few months, Obi being softer on Y/n and the others trying to get him to see it, hell even Arthur picked up on it. Eventually, It was ultimately Y/n who made him realize he had in fact been nicer to them and that he has a crush on them. It had been a quiet day, no calls to deal with Infernals and luckily the crew had managed to complete the mountain of paperwork that usually occupied the office space. After about an hour of Shinra and Arthur pestering the Lieutenant, Hinawa finally agreed to let everyone take the day to relax as long as they stayed alert for any potential calls.

   Taking advantage of the somewhat free day, Y/n decided to bake some cookies for the crew as a treat for all the hard work they had been doing. Y/n spent the first part of the day straightening the kitchen and making sure everything was ready for their day of baking. With everything clean they turned on the small radio, got the ingredients out and started baking. Lost in their own little world dancing around the kitchen while mixing the cookie dough, they failed to notice that the Captain had come into the room. Obi’s original plan was to get a quick snack and glass of water, he was not expecting to see Y/n dancing around the kitchen mixing bowl in hand while a song he recognized as being from before the Great Cataclysm played from the radio. The sight caused Obi to freeze in the doorway, completely entranced. 

    Having finished mixing the dough, Y/n turned to set the bowl on the counter, only to be startled by the sight of their Captain standing frozen in the doorway. Being slightly startled, but also concerned, Y/n spoke up. “Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?” They asked. 

    It took Obi a few seconds to process that Y/n had spoken to him, but as he was about to respond and dash away like nothing happened, the alarm sounded followed by the Lieutenant rushing by saying there was a call. Obi watched as Y/n sighed before quickly placing the bowl of cookie dough in the fridge turning to get ready for the call. Obi was still slightly frozen having realized watching Y/n be carefree was one of his new favorite things, and he only moved to respond to the call when Y/n moved to exit the kitchen and had brushed past him trying to get out.

   Obi shook his head, focusing on the job at hand, but not before deciding he was going to talk to them after this call and admit his feelings. Sure, he just figured them out himself, but with the way the world was any day could be they’re last so why not spend it with the ones you love.

[yeollie-plz]

A Very Miller Christmas

A post for @joelscurls for the PedroStories Secret Santa event!!

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader (ft. platonic Sarah Miller)

Synopsis: Joel doesn't love Christmas, but since you moved in you've been determined to change that.

Genre: fluff, so fluffy you could die

Warnings: mentions of Christmas, kissing, pet names,

Gif credits to owners!

December 1st:

As you made your way very unceremoniously through the front door, you dropped a few ornaments out of the open box in your hands. The sound of them crashing to the floor drew the attention of your boyfriend.

He walked into the living room only to be met with the sight of you almost entirely Christmas-ified. Tinsel hung around your neck. A branch of mistletoe was stuck in your hair. Two boxes were in your hands, stuffed with Christmas decorations. The boxes were stacked high covering your face and your view. Which became evident to Joel, who as you almost fell, ran up to catch you and the boxes.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a slight laugh as he grabbed the boxes from your hands and set them down.

"Decorating." You said simply as you brushed away a random strand of hair that had fallen in your face.

"Decorating?" Joel's brow quirked in question. Now reaching for the branch of mistletoe in your hair, holding it up for you to see.

Your eyes focused on it, "For Christmas, obviously! And you just found some Mistletoe." You kissed him quick before getting to work decorating the house.

December 5th:

For days you had been begging Joel to hang up the string lights for you and for days he had denied. As you followed him through the house, he wouldn't even look at you.

"Please! Please! Please!" You said into his back. He was looking for his jacket that he had of course put down in a different place than usual, now losing it.

"Baby, how many times do I have to tell you, we don't need lights." Sighing, as his jacket was not on any of the dining room chairs.

"And how many times do I have to tell you, we do." Placing your hand on the back of one of the chairs and leaning on it, you tried to catch his attention by blocking his view.

He ignored you and continued to move through the house, "You already decorated the inside. Why do we need to do the inside too?"

You sighed, tapping your foot behind him as he moved the couch cushions, still searching. You put your hand on your hip, trying to show your annoyance. He finally turned to meet your eyes, matching your pose to show his own.

Not amused, your face stoned, "Please, for me. I just want the house to look festive. Come on, Sarah will love it!" Now on the verge of whining, he finally gave you a face of defeat.

"Fine, but if I fall off the ladder, you're paying the medical bills." He starts to move towards the door, grabbing your box of string lights as he opens the door.

Glancing at the arm chair, you notice his jacket blending into the fabric. Picking it up quickly, you race after him. You stop Joel before he fully makes his way outside.

You hand him his jacket and lean up to peck his lips. He looks at you with a mixture of soft, yet annoyed eyes. He tips his head towards the box of decorations, before turning to do his duty.

"Thank you!" You call after him, only receiving a brush off, making you giggle.

December 11th:

Christmas music drifted through the house from the radio in the kitchen. As Joel followed it, and the smell of cookies, he found you swaying your hips to the music, while mixing a bowl of cookie dough. Sarah happily stood next to you, singing the lyrics a bit off key.

He watched you from the entryway for a minute, leaning against the doorframe. Smiling at how happy you looked while humming to the festive songs. Pushing off of the doorframe, he made his way quietly behind you. Joel snaked his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. The sudden touch made you jump slightly, but once you smelled the all too familiar scent of your boyfriend, you instantly relaxed.

Joel used your hips to turn you around, causing you to drop the whisk. You lose your balance a bit, so to regain it you string your arms around his neck. He places a chaste kiss to your lips, before swaying his hips in time with the music. Using his hands on yours to urge you to do that same.

You are giggling while Joel parades you through the kitchen. Sarah laughing at the two of you dancing. He glances over at his daughter and as the two of you pass her, sweeps her up into the swaying as well.

The house is now filled with laughter.

December 19th:

Today when Joel gets home, he isn't greeted with any music. He isn't greeted with anything actually. A bit confused, but he realizes why when he sees both you and Sarah sound asleep on the couch.

A mixture of Christmas movies are laid out on the coffee table, as well as, a variety of treats. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is playing on the television, while the two of you dream away.

Shaking his head, neither of you could ever make it through a movie, especially not a marathon. He grabs the blanket from the chair and covers you and Sarah with it. Making sure you are both nice and tucked in.

December 24th:

You had invited Tommy over for a Miller family Christmas Eve. Dinner, hot chocolate, some alcohol for the adults, and maybe an early present.

Sarah was running around the house, yelling Christmas carols, stringing tinsel around behind her like it was a cape. You were putting the final touches on dinner. While Joel and Tommy sat in the living room discussing work. Even on the holidays they were workaholics.

You didn't hear Joel come into the kitchen, until he sat a fresh glass of scotch onto the counter next to you. Smiling gratefully at him, you took a sip.

"Thank you, I needed this." You said.

"I know." He pecks your forehead, before beginning to set the table for you.

"I was gonna have Sarah do that." You mused at him.

"Eh, let her have fun. I am also capable of helping, you know?" It was more of a joke than a real question, so you just shook your head at him and continued what you were doing.

You all sat down to dinner, everyone complimenting you on the meal. You had gone all out and were a bit proud of yourself. Looking over a Joel, you saw him looking down at his plate, gleaming with pride. This brought a smile to your own face.

Later on, after dinner, everyone had retreated to the living room for a movie. You thought it was going to be an easy decision but of course with three stubborn, big-headed Millers it was a debate and a half. But finally you are settled on Frosty the Snowman. Much to Sarah's excitement and the boy's disappointment.

Sarah, of course, fell asleep during the movie, the excitement of the night catching up with her. As Joel went to lift her to carry her to her bed, she stirred awake. In her half-asleep state, she managed to remember that Joel promised that she could open on present tonight.

You handed her one of the medium sized ones and she ripped it open excitedly. The excitement didn't fade when she saw what we inside, a pair of nice and warm fleece pajamas. She stroked them thoughtfully, obviously loving their soft texture.

"For you to wear tonight." You explained, gesturing to the bundle of fabric in her hands.

Her eyes went wide, as she quickly rushed off to try them on. Coming back out a little over a minute later, sporting her new jammies. She strutted into the living room, imitating a high fashion model. Gaining laughs from all of the adults.

"Alright, babygirl, off to bed now." Joel said, pushing her lightly towards the stairs. Following her up to tuck her in. You smiled watching the two loves of your life. Tommy just chuckled at the look on your face, to which you shoved him.

December 25th:

Sarah woke up bright and early, rushing into yours and Joel's room. The sound of the door hitting the wall woke you up, but Joel didn't even react. So you sat back and watched as the girl jumped onto your bed trying to wake up her father. He groaned at her as it finally began to work.

"So early, baby..." He complained at her.

"But its Christmassssssss." She drew out her words to show her dad how important it all was.

"Fine...lets go." Joel gave in, pushing himself up off the bed with another groan.

"Ask mom to make some coffee for you old man!" Sarah yelled to Joel as she was already halfway to the Christmas tree. Your head snapped to Joel, he was already looking at you.

"Did she just?" You questioned.

"She called you mom." He said at the same time.

"She called me mom." Tears grew in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Hey, hey no tears on Christmas." He said with a bit of a laugh, wiping away the one tear that actually fell. You nodded.

He smiled softly at you, before grabbing your hand. Pulling you down the stairs to follow after his daughter.

After Sarah ripped open all of her presents, and began to play with some of them, Joel looked over at you.

"Aren't you gonna open up yours?" Joel gestures to the empty tree skirt.

"Mine?" He nods and points to the tree. Eyebrows furrowing, you decide to amuse his little game and go over to the tree. Looking under it, you don't see anything, until you do.

A small box, sits under the tree, wrapped terribly. You giggle at his poor wrapping job, but not loud enough for him to hear. Grabbing it, you go back over to the couch. He watches you intently.

You slowly unwrap the box. You realize quickly that its a jewelry box, you also realize quickly that there was only a few jewelry items that could fit in this size box...

And as you lift the box open, you guess is proved true when a shiny silver ring sits there. Tears form in your eyes again.

"Joel..." You whisper out in shock.

"Will you marry-y" He words are cut off by you throwing your arms around him and knocking the breath out of him.

"Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes." As you say this, you place about a billion kisses onto his smiling face.

"I love you." He says when you finally stop kissing him.

"I love you too." You say, leaning your forehead on his, your eyes closed.

"And you are both gross." Sarah says from the floor, watching the two of you.

"Hey!" You exclaim, throwing a rolled up ball of wrapping paper across the room at her.

This was a very Miller Christmas, a very perfect Christmas.

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! And a very special Merry Christmas and happy holidays to @joelscurls my amazing giftee! I was so excited to write this for you and I hope you enjoy and have the best holiday season! ❤️ A special thank you to @pedrostories for putting this lovely event together and bringing all of us Pedro writers together for the holidays! Happy holidays to all the admins of pedrostories! ❤️❤️

[greetingfromthedead]

Gingerbread (Vash x GN!Reader)

Plot: You join Vash in a visit to Karsted City. To keep you being there a secret, Lina and Grandma Sheryl mingle with the townsfolk, leaving you and Vash to bake cookies to be decorated later together with Lina. Rating: E (for this part) Tags: No use of "Y/N", Established Relationship, Fluff, Festive Cheer, Holiday Traditions, Christmas Cookies, Gingerbread Making, Banter, Playfulness, Physical Tenderness, Shenanigans, Spending Time Together, Kissing, Licking Vash's Prosthetic Like a Whisk, Cuddling, Cookie Eating Word count: 2.4k

"It sure is nice to be here, but are you sure it is safe?" You ask as you wrap your arms around Vash's waist, knotting your fingers on his stomach and hugging him from behind. You feel the shifts and movements of his muscles as he continues to knead the dark brown dough that already starts to make the room smell heavenly and sweet.

"Yeah, Grandma Sheryl and Lina went to the church; they said they would mingle in town so nobody would get the idea to come here for a surprise visit. As long as we don't turn on the big lights, it's doubtful anyone would get suspicious of us being here. It's okay, love." Vash explains calmly. He has learned that it helps to settle your nerves, so he tries to do it more and not just shrug and go with the flow.

"I feel bad for them having to leave just for us. I was also looking forward to spending time with them, not to mention you've missed them both so much. Will they at least be back to have dinner?" You continue to question him, burying your face into the soft knitted sweater Sheryl made for him.

"Of course they will! They wouldn't miss a festive dinner together! They might just be here a little late. More time for us to make these gingerbreads!" he replies, the soft smile you love so much dripping from his voice.

"You're right! It was hard enough to get the ingredients! We can't let them go to waste!" New determination energizes you to loosen your hug and step out from behind Vash. You roll up your sleeves again and kiss his cheek. Vash tilts his whole body towards you to make sure you can reach his face and even turns his head afterward with his lips puckered. His hands are still busy kneading the dough in front of him, so you give in and put another light kiss on his lips. His front is covered in flour; his nice jumper is only protected thanks to the frilly apron he wears. The flour even dusts his face, a more prominent line on his forehead where he swiped over with his forearm. It's endearing, and you can't help but smile at his messy appearance.

You leave him to his task and start to look for the supplies necessary for the next steps. Preparing the baking trays takes some time; you need to smear the metal with butter and some flour to make sure nothing will stick to them once baked. You also check that the oven is preheating to the correct temperature, and you lay out the few cookie cutters you have so that they are easily accessible. A heart, a star, a little man, a bell, and a cat.

"I think the dough is done. You've kneaded it for long enough," you say as you fight the drawer filled with utensils to get the rolling pin out. Somehow the drawer has gotten stuck and won't budge no matter how hard you pull.

"Yeah, it feels all smooth and ready!" Vash answers and forms a ball with the dough. "Ohhh… Mayfly?"

"What's up, love?"

You finally manage to wiggle the utensils enough to pry open the drawer, the culprit being the rolling pin itself that had gotten lodged in the worst position.

"It's my hand…" He trails off, and you turn towards him, resting the pin on your shoulder like a bat. "I think I need your help."

Vash looks like a puppy that has gotten into trouble. He lifts his skeletal prosthetic that has gingerbread dough stuck in every nook and cranny.

"Well, good thing we gave it a good scrub with that toothbrush before we got started!" You laugh gently and go to him, leaving the roller on the counter and taking his right hand, scraping it clean with a butter knife first and wiping everything mostly off, leaving only a little bit of oily residue behind.

The other hand is in worse shape, and you carefully start removing the bulk, using a small spoon and the knife to get large chunks off and smushing them together with the rest of the dough. Vash looks a little ashamed for being in this situation, but he enjoys watching you work away. He starts to wonder if you will use the toothbrush again to get the smaller details clean, but then you lift his hand up to your face and put two of his metal fingers in your mouth to suck them clean, your tongue swirling around them. Vash suddenly feels flustered as you look up at him, his fingers still lingering on your tongue. The sweet taste of sugar blends with the spices, and you're happy with how the dough turned out. You suck on his fingers as you pull them out with a pop, shifting his hand to lick and kiss the next parts clean, from the other fingers to the knuckles and his palm. You treat his hand like a whisk. Vash's face and ears turn a deeper shade of crimson as he watches you with a mixture of endearment and embarrassment. His heart beats so loud in his ears, especially when you smile at his expression. You are so precious to him.

"Alrightly, it's toothbrush time!" you announce after getting him mostly clean and having indulged in raw cookie dough. You hold on to his hand as you drag him to the sink and lather the prosthesis in soap before scrubbing it completely clean. Vash tries to interject and offers to do it himself, but you ignore him, just giving a small bump with your hip as acknowledgment that you heard him at all.

After getting him squeaky clean again, you return to your dough; you take over the business of dividing the large ball into smaller portions and rolling it out evenly on the well-floured surface. You finally get to the part where you can start to cut out shapes. Vash stands right beside you, his arm often brushing against yours as he reaches for a cookie cutter or when he presses it into the dough. You start filling the prepared tray with cookies, carefully spacing them out so they don't merge together while baking. Vash eventually even leaves all the cutters to you and takes a knife, carefully starting to cut out his own shapes. Among them is a fairly large cross. It is a bit uneven, but Vash doesn't mind; he looks very proud of his work.

"What's that?" you ask, suspecting the answer but making sure.

"It's the Punisher!" he says with a very pleased expression as he carefully transfers it onto the tray.

"Thought so!" you respond with a smile, glad to see him so happy.

With the tray filled, Vash puts it in the oven and makes a note of the time. You already start work on the next set, rolling out more dough, and Vash joins you in making even more cookies, filling a second tray in the time it takes for the first one to bake. The kitchen is filled with your soft voices and the warm scent of gingerbread. It is easy to forget that your life is rarely this peaceful.

Vash is busy carving out the shape of a flower when it comes time to check on the first batch in the oven. You take the mitts and open the oven door. The hot puff of air hits your face, carrying the scent of cinnamon and sugar throughout the kitchen. You take the tray out to inspect it closer, not wanting to leave the cookies raw.

"Oh no," you chuckle as you look at the tray of freshly baked gingerbread.

"What's wrong?" Vash looks up with concern.

"It's the Punisher," you reply, trying your hardest to stifle a laugh.

"Did it break?" Vash still doesn't understand and steps closer to look for himself.

The cross is now misshapen; the dough has risen and expanded in the oven. The long straight remains vaguely the same, but it seems longer and wider; the sharp corners are all rounded. The shorter offshoots to both sides have also lost all of their shape, becoming blobs that melt into the top part.

"It has become the Penisher!" you exclaim, no longer able to keep yourself in check and letting out a loud cackle.

"You're right!" Vash looks over your shoulder, tracing the shape of the gingerbread in the air, "There's the shaft, and there are the balls!"

Vash joins your laughter, and somewhere, far, far away, Wolfwood suddenly feels very irritated for no apparent reason.

Like a well-oiled machine, you churn out more and more cookies, leaving them on the counter to cool while filling the tray with new, uncooked ones. Rarely is there a second of just waiting around, but when there is such a moment, Vash uses it to leave kisses on your cheeks and lips. You cherish these sweet gestures, feeling grateful for the love and joy that fills your heart. By the time all the gingerbread are done cooking, you have cleaned up the kitchen together. No sign remains of the mess you caused, except for the cooling cookies. You even clean off Vash's face and sweater.

"I'm sure Lina will love to help decorate all of these tomorrow! Or knowing her, perhaps even today after dinner," Vash comments as he looks at your creations as if he's in a fine art gallery.

"I'm sure she will. Guess it is a good thing she's not here. She would have a hard time being patient and waiting for them all to cool down," you chuckle a bit.

"We made quite a lot. We can't make enough glaze for all of them," he continues in a thoughtful manner, and you quickly pick up where he is steering the conversation.

"Hmm, yes, of course," you nod along. "We should definitely prioritize which ones get to be decorated. No point in putting effort into the broken and bloated ones! Nobody will know what they are supposed to be anyway!"

"Yes. To avoid any confusion, do you think we should separate the substandard ones from the rest?" He tries to sound as pretentious as possible.

"That's a good idea! We should pick them out and put them on plates so we can move them away from the rest more easily!" you keep nodding and taking out a large plate, shifting closer to the cooling gingerbread.

"I'm suspecting that separation won't be enough! What if someone wastes precious glaze on them? Or if their ugliness infects our perfect creations?!" Vash sounds outraged as he takes a long step to your side, leaning over the cookies.

"Fair point. We should dispose of the ugliest ones! It is for the best! We are doing everybody a favor!" you agree with him, hand already reaching out to pick up a bell that looks like it has melted in the desert heat.

"Indeed. For the greater good!" He hums in agreement, picks up some broken gingerbread to put on your plate, and then turns away with a fake serious face. "I will get the necessary tools for the job."

"Do you happen to mean milk?" you look after him.

"Of course I do!" he responds with a mischievous grin.

You continue to fill your plate with broken and misshapen cookies. The dim light remaining in the room makes it hard to see which ones are broken, but you manage to compile a small heap, and Vash returns to your side with a big glass of milk. His free hand lands softly on your lower back; his touch feels tender and sweet, and he keeps his arm around you as you walk over to the couch.

The living room has also gone almost completely dark, making the little lights decorating the room shine all the brighter. The smell of freshly baked cookies fills the air, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere. You leave the plate with the gingerbread on the side table for easy access. Vash puts the milk next to the cookies and sits down first, sinking into the plush cushions of the couch. He shifts a bit and then some more until he is all but lying on the couch. Vash looks at you and spreads his arms with a smile. You take his silent invitation and make your way into his embrace, snuggling up against his chest and feeling the warmth of his body envelop you.

He pulls down the blanket that was laid out on the backrest of the couch, covering you both with it, creating a cozy cocoon.

"Hey, Mayfly?" He speaks softly, and you feel the vibrations of his low voice through his chest.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Vash whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You lift your eyes to look into his. They shine back like gems, the tiny string lights reflecting back as tiny dots. He looks happy and at peace, something you wish to offer him every day for the rest of your days.

"I love you too," you reply and shift closer to kiss his lips. His arms tighten around you in a hug as he kisses you back, a familiar dance of your love for each other. His mouth tastes like sugar and spice, truly festive and full of warmth.

"You started without me!" you say in a low, almost threatening voice as you look at him. His eyes widen in surprise as if you had pointed a gun at him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist!" He responds sheepishly. "You ate the dough first, though!"

One of his hands reaches out into the abyss, feeling for the edge of the side table and nearly knocking over the glass of milk to reach the gingerbread. He picks one and offers it to you with an apologetic smile. You were never mad at him, so you can't keep a straight face and burst out laughing again before taking a big bite of the cookie he still holds. The cookie tastes warm and spicy, just like the holiday season.

All is good. Everything is perfect. Together you lay on the couch wrapped in a blanket with cookies and milk. The holiday lights twinkle in the background, and festive smells linger in the air. There is no place you would rather be than in Vash's arms at this moment, and Vash feels like all his wishes have been answered with one perfect gift—you. As you both snuggle closer together, you feel loved and cherished.

Optional smutty Part 2 »

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Divider and banner by saradika

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

[mcrdvcks]

hey, y'all! college has been hectic, but i hope to have the teacher!reader x old man logan sometime between tomorrow and tuesday.

but, i thought i'd show a sneak peak :)

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

[animation-99]

I will count this as second chapter so enjoy your time

The plot was changed somehow after Daniel got his first body similar to when he finished training with Sofia and somehow Daniel stupidly decided to give some points to Jiho so I sent him a suitable task for him "Take three pictures in each section of the school. The task points are 40 points" you gave him a task that will take some time and you will give him less points because you don't want him to change the original story standards too much for now you have to rest in this luxurious room A king size bed Soft blankets that look like cotton and many pillows you can sink into There is a wooden table that contains a tea pot and a cup and some warm milk Desserts are distributed in an eye-catching way Eclairs with different shiny layers and Boston cream pie cookie cups A cookie dough that looks like a small cup and Boston cream and chocolate cream on top of it There are some pancakes, castella, biscuits, egg tarts, green grapes, strawberries, apples and others All served on plates that look thin and sturdy White with overlapping patterns

You crawl on the bed to reach the table Your hand moves the light fabric that surrounds the bed and you take some plates and put them on the table on the front side of the bed You bury yourself in the comfortable bed and act like you own the place Rest your head on the pillows and cross your legs Your fingers take some grapes and put them in your mouth while you mutter "Wealth that only a few can afford, but I don't mind getting pampered" You deserved a reward after accidentally saving one of the evil characters Charles Choi in response and you got a bit hurt so you got treated well for your noble act He wanted to reward you with something but you preferred money... Flashback Charles furrowed his brows and looked at you Not knowing that you were pretending to be tired He spoke after seeing you almost hidden by the big bed "It seems to me that you made yourself comfortable? I will reward you Ask for what you want" He said it thinking of adding you to his group He thinks that you have good reflexes and that you are in the same school as that Daniel so a reliable source of information His question It was a test for you, it was the same kind of mental test he did with other geniuses, but you replied, “Please give me my reward, please give me money, I don’t like anything else.” Charles looked at the girl in front of him and a bitter laugh escaped his lips, “You’re going to spend it on clothes, sweets, things like that?” “Yes, how did you know?” You replied with a smile, this is the best thing you can get from this man because anything else will somehow connect you to him, so money is always the best option.

Two days later, there was goo sitting next to you on the bed, shamelessly nudging your cheek several times. “Miss Rabbit, I didn’t expect to run into you again. I think it was fate.” The gun was sitting on the other side. You thought he was pouring himself tea, but he handed you the cup and gave you a nod. He was smiling easily, you could tell his happiness at the idea that a teenager could so easily make Charles angry and disappointed. It was great entertainment for the gun after seeing Charles’ stoic demeanor even in difficult situations, and now he was getting angry because of a young girl who seemed to know how to play her cards. The gun was fixing some of her messy hair. It was amusing to him how she was acting so stoic now, as if she owned the building. That feeling of nobility, as someone from the nobility, accustomed to being pampered with ease and smoothness, knew how to make a choice that would anger Charles. It was amusing to see her stare with a raised eyebrow at Joo, who was trying to pinch her cheek. The gun laughed at the girl’s reaction to goo’s strange behavior.

A few days later you stare at the check with the black credit card and put it safely away for storage for now after the school day is over you will be thinking about what to do with it at school you are greeted by Vasco who somehow overdid it basically the chandelier falls on Charles' head and you pull it but Vasco thinks you saved the man from blowing up a building and gives you the cute puppy smile you promised yourself you would outbid him at the festival but now you are getting a quick ride over the shoulders of the Flaming Fists they drive you to class and after you settle in you are met with a guy with blonde bangs blonde hair covering his eyes and the smell of cleanliness emanating from him and the cold metal of the rings you can feel Jay's marshmallow like cheek pressed against yours you pat Jay's head "Hey Jay I missed you too" after a while of greetings from your classmates and ending up with a lot of snacks and get well notes on your desk piled up like a mountain until Zach put something down and Finn Jin gave you a lecture on how you are putting your soul at risk and that The person you saved won't be thankful. On the other hand, Mary pats your head and Zoe checks the wounds. You stare at the people around you, wondering how you made friends with them so quickly.

It's little but thanks for reading

[afyrian]

ch. 6 - december 25 masterlist

    "no, i'm just watching a movie, making some cookies to pass the time. rin left yesterday... so it's just me," you stand in the kitchen with kiyoko on the other side of a video call. 

  you can tell that she's sitting on a couch, tanaka's shoulder resting against hers. their beautifully decorated house sits as the background for the warm environment your screen encompasses. it's hard not to feel jealous of the life that she leads, the loving partner, the amazing home. however, you find yourself remembering your homey apartment, best friend who is better than any life partner. 

  "if we hadn't gone to ryū's family's home today, we would've invited you over, i hope you know that."

  you nod, mixing a few toppings into the dough, giving her a smile, "i know! i'm fine with it, it's finally given me some time to bake something and watch something other than an action movie."

  it's rather obvious that your laugh that follows is forced, hoping that you saying it would make it real. and it’s rather easy for kiyoko to recognize just how intertwined you are with rintarō, even if it's not so obvious to you. 

  "you know, we should go on a double date sometime. since suna is technically your husband," she runs her hand through her hair, lowering her phone some. 

  you hold back a smile at the sound of 'husband', your eyes focused on the ball of cookie dough in your hand. heat rises to your cheeks as grab some saran wrap to store it in the fridge for a couple hours. "well, just technically, so it'd basically just be a hangout. since you know, i don't know if he'd necessarily be up for date- or if i would even-"

  a knock at your apartment door abruptly stops your rambling. your thought process quickly ends and you quickly wipe your hands down on a hand towel. "sorry, i gotta grab this, talk to you later?"

  kiyoko gives you a quick nod and an 'absolutely'. you take in a deep breath and make your way to be front door, your clothes old and covered in ingredients. when you open the door, you don't initially see anyone. for a second, you contemplate if it was someone simply knocking and running; however, a large brown bag sits at your feet.

  it resembles that of a restaurant's bag, a little note written on it saying 'from rin'. you grab it by the handle and shut the door, smelling your favorite food's aroma. all of your worry melts away as you open it to find a small note and an array of a nearby restaurant's food. you simply can't hold back your smile now as you open the little note. 

  'y/n, i know we couldn't be together today, and everyone else is busy, so here's something that may cheer you up! if not, i'll make it up to you by watching some romcom when i get back. from, rin.' 

  below it is something else written in parenthesis, likely from the driver's perspective, '(you have a lovely boyfriend)'. you take in a deep breath and remember the past six months with him, remember the breakfasts he’s made, the memories you’ve made every day. he’s truly the only guy for you and he doesn’t even know it. 

  tears build up, from a little mix of joy and sadness. joy that you have the greatest man in your life. the man who will pick you up when your hours from home. the man that will make you breakfast when you just don’t feel like it. the very same man who will send you something on christmas just so that you don’t feel lonely.

  however, he also happens to be the same man that doesn’t feel the same way as you. that can look so lovingly into your eyes and only feel an ever budding friendship. that can go years without ever saying a word about how the two of them could be more than what they were. it’s a double edged sword and your unsure of where the blade will land. 

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write an angsty chapter and i keep putting it off ://

[fox-bright]

Gen's Soft Browned-Butter Rum Vanilla Chocolate Chip Cookies

This is really for everybody, but I'm putting it up at last 'cause @sounddesignerjeans requested the recipe. I have been making chocolate chip cookies for thirty years, I was making them when I was too young to have been allowed near an oven by sane parents, but it wasn't until fairly recently that I was really happy with the recipe. I want cookies that are soft and stay soft, but that are chewy and not cakey; that have a lot of flavor instead of just being overwhelmingly sweet; that aren't too much trouble to make in terms of tools, and that are entirely made up of stuff that the average American probably has in their kitchen cupboards.

Here's your classic flatlay of ingredients:

2C plus 2TBSP all-purpose flour

2 TBSP corn starch

1/2tsp baking soda

1tsp kosher salt OR 1/2 tsp fine table salt

1C brown sugar (light or dark)

1/2C white sugar

1C butter (two sticks/16 TBSP. Must be butter--I don't know anything about soy or nut spreads, but margarine absolutely will not work for this, unfortunately)

2 eggs, room temperature

Vanilla to taste (anywhere between 1tsp and 1TBSP is usually the sweet spot)

Chocolate chips to taste (Average is 1-2 cups, but live your dreams! I like my cookies a little less chocolatey personally, but this is absolutely up to you, anything under three cups shouldn't overwhelm the dough to the point that it doesn't cook right, though that would be Way Too Many for  me. I'm usually at about a cup or under.)

A couple of notes: this recipe really does work best if the eggs and chocolate chips are room temperature, but the butter can start from frozen if that's what you have. Take a half-cup measure and use that to scoop flour into your cup measure, and then scrape, don't compress, until the flour is level across the top of the cup.  And lastly--ANY vanilla will do, but I am hugely privileged to be able to say that the Bacardi there has been transformed to vanilla extract by a particularly enterprising kendo student of mine, I'm not just pouring straight rum into the cookies (though that might be interesting)

Also, please allow me to introduce you to Fork!

Fork is a stalwart friend. When I moved to be with the Magical Flying Husband, he was somewhat horrified by my Poverty Child, "This table fork and butterknife are all the tools I need for my day-to-day household existence" ways, and got me Fork as a present so that I would leave the silverware alone. Fork can handle a dense boiled potato and a silky buttercream with equal aplomb, not bending or transmitting too much heat up into my hand. I highly recommend Fork. But for this recipe, a hand mixer will also do, as will a table fork if that's what you have.

(The rest of Part 1 of this recipe under the cut:)

If you have two bowls, put the dry ingredients (flour, corn starch, baking soda, salt) into the smaller one, and both sugars into the larger one. If you only have one bowl, put the sugars into it and let the dry ingredients wait their turn.

When I was a kid, I used to imagine that the brown sugar was a castle keep in deep winter, and the white sugar the snow that hemmed it in.

Get a little pan onto the stove, and pop both sticks of butter in it to melt.

The butter will start off bright, but it will pretty quickly separate into liquid and solid; you must not leave it alone at this point, this is the most eyes-on-it portion of the game here. Take Fork, or a fork, or a whisk, and stir, stir, every few seconds.

The milkfats will sink to the bottom of the pan. Stir, stir. The milkfats will get sticky; don't let them cling to the pan, keep them in motion.

Pretty soon the butter will start giving off a lovely chestnutty smell, and the milkfats at the bottom of the pan will turn a darker color. Take the pan off the heat and continue to stir for another thirty seconds or so. If you leave it on the heat and stir now, the fats can easily burn; if they burn, you need to start over, there's no salvaging it. So better safe than sorry.

Carefully pour the butter over your sugars, making sure you get all those delicious browned bits in there, and stir stir stir! Don't burn yourself--but it starts cooling off immediately as the sugars dissolve into cooling liquid. I use Fork for this, but you can use a strong whisk or a hand mixer.

Once the sugars are completely dissolved and mixed, it will look kind of like a grainy caramel. Let it sit until completely cool, somewhere around fifteen minutes. Maybe take this time to go put up a Tumblr post about your delicious cookies.

(Part 2 incoming shortly)

[f1rewr1t3r]

Hi! I was wondering if I can request joyce byers + daughter!reader? Like readers exhausted from school/work and Joyce is exhausted from work and since both the boys are out Joyce and reader decide to have a little mother/daughter bonding time? (Also can it be hc’s also is it ok if readers 1 year younger than Johnathon making reader have the middle child syndrome)

request: YES or NO

Mother Daughter Bonding Time w Joyce HeadCannons

Joyce Byers x Platonic!Daughter!Reader

A/N- sorry its a bit short but i hope y'all like it

@thequeenofcupps

(ik its El but cut me some slack pookies <3) set around season 2-3

Joyce

You

together

Other

~ Joyce tries to make time for all her kids but with everything going on with Will and Jonathan, plus work, it gets very hard to make time for all of them equally

~ Donald has recently had to "let go" another worker leaving Joyce the only one currently working at Melvald's.

~ He has been giving her more hours which she happily took cause she thought they could make use of the extra cash

~ You are a year younger than Jonathan, being in your junior year of high school. SATs were coming up and you had been studying NON-STOP.

~ and when you weren't studying, you were working.

~last summer you had taken up a job at Starcourt Mall to make some extra spending money for the fam as well as to help with bills.

~Plus being the middle child you were already slightly overlooked, even more now since everything with Will happened

~ needless to say, you were both stressed to the max

~ Both of the boys were out. Jonathan was with Nancy, and Will was with the usual group.

~Joyce just got back from closing up the shop and you were in your room studying.

~It had been a while since she checked up on you so she decided to lightly knock on your door before going in

~"Come in"

~"Hey honey"

~"Oh hey mom"

~"Whatcha doin"

~"Just studying"

~ she felt so bad that you were working yourself to the bone. She took note of the boys being away and she had an idea

~ "hey I know its been a bit since we last spent some time together so what d'ya say we both take the rest of the day to just relax and hangout"

~ "I'd love that"

~You both headed to the grocery store and picked up a few things. Your favorite snacks, Joyce's favorite cookie dough, and the stuff to make your favorite dish for dinner.

~you also rented Annie from the video store

~when you got home it was around 5:30 pm so you put the groceries away and you both freshened up and changed into some comfy pj's

~Joyce made your favorite dish for dinner and afterwards you made her favorite cookies

~While the cookies were in the oven, you both sat on the couch and talked about work, school, and pretty much anything.

~When the cookies were finished you watched Annie and continued to gossip and just spend time together as mother and daughter.

~ while watching Annie, Joyce would get you to sit on the floor (on a pillow or a cushion) and brush/Braid your hair depending on the length

~ you both ended up falling asleep on the couch

~ Joyce woke up and realized that y'all had fallen asleep

~ she got you a blanket and let you sleep while she started to pick up the coffee table

~ "mom"

~ "yes honey"

~ "i had a lot of fun today"

~ "me too honey, now go back to sleep and get some rest."

~ Let's just say that after that night, Joyce made a conscious effort to spend mother daughter time together every week or two

[updownlately]

'cause you used to be a part of me (now you're only somebody)

| alessia russo x reader | angst | 1.0k | a/n: it's the angst i so desperately wanted to write. i don't know what it is about spotify but it kept playing sad songs this morning and then it played 'worse for me' by tyler shaw and i had no other option but to write this throughout my class. enjoy! also i wrote this as the backstory to this blurb

~~~

“It’s done.” 

“Oh great! Okay, so the instructions say to take the dough out of the fridge and-” You begin, as you wipe your hands on the towel near you.

“No, not the timer for the cookies…the negotiations.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Alessia round the corner of the island, her phone making the distinct locking noise before it’s gently sliding on the countertop, coming to rest between you two, almost mocking you.

“The nego- oh…”

Taking a deep sigh, you mentally prepared yourself. Putting the towel down, you turned to face her. Letting yourself lean against the counter, you tried to look nonchalant even though you were everything but.

“So what’s the verdict? I’m going to assume that United matched?”

Alessia nodded, closing the gap between you two. Stopping a few feet away, she timidly reached out her hands, a wince on her face, nervousness clear with the way she was bouncing from foot to foot. 

The silent question in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you. You reached your own hand out, intertwining your fingers, pulling her ever so slightly closer, the space between you two noticeably smaller.

“I love you.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

When the blonde took a deep sigh in response, you knew you were right.

“London right?” You could feel your own heartbreak at your words, well aware that this was how it was going to end, and yet it didn’t make the sting hurt any less. 

“We both know I can’t stay at United.” 

“City?” “I might leave my childhood club, but I won’t do them like that.” Her words had you shrugging in acceptance.

“So….Arsenal?”

“Yeah.”

You thought you had held it together pretty well up until this point. You had at least, until this moment. You don’t know what it was, but the final confirmation, the singular word being uttered just made it more real. It made your nightmares a reality.

Alessia could see you physically breaking in front of her, the first few tears falling down your face. The way you leant your head back, the wordless prayer falling from your lips, straight onto the ground where it shattered into pieces.

“Please say something.” Alessia knew she sounded desperate. Your opinion technically wouldn’t make a difference at this point- it hadn’t before, what good would it do now that everything else in the way was sorted and official.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” the defeat in your voice clear from the way it broke in the midst of the sentence.

“Something? Anything? What do you think?” By now, Alessia had matching tears rolling down her face. 

“I’m happy for you.” The statement contradicted your quiet sniffles and tears, them only getting worse.

“Are you though?” This wasn’t what happy looked like, Alessia knew that much. 

“I am. This is going to be good for you.”

Voicing her concerns, Alessia took a chance. “You don’t look happy for me.”

“Alessia…” You trailed off, wiping your tears and pinching the bridge of your nose.

The striker couldn’t tell what hurt more, the fact that you couldn’t even look her in the eyes anymore or that you used her full name, something you haven’t used since the pair of you made things official.

“You need to realize that what’s the best for you is probably- no scratch that, it is the worst for me.”

Take a deep breath in to calm yourself, you continued. “I’m happy for you. I really am, I swear. But you leaving? That too a three hour drive away? That’s going to break me. Not being able to see you ever day? It’s like my worst nightmare come true.”

As your voice trailed off, echoing through the apartment that was already feeling a little less like home, you looked up at your girlfriend.

The way Alessia didn’t meet your eyes this time, spoke volumes. 

“Alessia, no…”

This time, it was Alessia’s turn to raise her gaze through the roof, unshed tears threatening to fall at the slightest interaction.

“Don’t you dare Alessia. Please. Genuinely, I’m begging you, don’t do what I think you’re about to.”

“I’m sorry…” This time, the tears fell, the pair of you openly crying. “Know that I don’t want to do this bu”-

“Then don’t” you interrupted, naively hoping that even though she didn’t listen to you before, maybe she just might this time. 

“I need to. With you still here, I-”. Her own shaky inhale cutting her off this time, hands coming up to furiously wipe at her face. “I can’t do it. I need you there, and I can’t have that. I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Please,” you pleaded. “We can at least give it a shot? You won’t even have to drive down, you know I love driving, I can always make the trip…”

The next two words had your shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry.” 

Swallowing hard, a deep sigh leaving your lips, you let your heart break into smithereens on the ground between you. 

“When do you leave?” your voice a whisper, too afraid of being loud, lest something else besides your heart cracks too.

“Just before I head to camp.”

“A little over two weeks from now?” you double-checked, not wanting to believe it could be so soon. 

Nodding, Alessia timidly met your eyes, aware that she was the cause of your pain right now. 

It’s why your next words took her by surprise, cueing another round of tears.

“Let’s make the most of it yeah?”

Tears streaming down your faces, you let out a pained smile. “These cookies better turn out great…after all that we just went through. I don’t think I could handle it if they don’t.”

Pushing yourself off the counter that you were using for support, you closed the distance between yourself and Alessia. Pulling her in for a hug, the taller girl practically smothered your body with her own, small tremors wracking her frame.

You knew that heartbreak was inevitable, the both of you needing to leave for world cup prep soon. Regardless, you couldn’t find it in yourself to let her go just yet, wanting to savour as many last bittersweet days that you could. So you let yourself hold her for as long as you could, aware that the clock was ticking, that she wasn't yours for much longer. You couldn't even be upset at her. This was, after all, the best thing for her future, for her.

It just so happened that it was also the worst for you.

[sleephyuns]

“Tired?” A voice rumbled up from her shoulder, whisking her away from the gates of dreamland.

“Nope, not at a…” she cut herself off with a betraying yawn, giving one last goodbye to the sleep she wouldn’t get quite yet.

There was still cleaning up to do, especially now. So, in hindsight, it might not have been the best time to have taken a mid-decorating sex break.

Besides the mess of their own bodies stuck together with sweat, Nayeon’s clothes were strewn about (how her cheap antler headband had stayed on after all that was beyond her), some forgotten ornaments were still scattered near the tree (including ones knocked off by their antics), and the dough that Nayeon had been planning to shape into little trees and bows was still sitting out on the counter.

There was a lot to deal with. Preferably before they were a sticky mess, but what was done was done.

Momo just looked so damn cute in her tacky little Christmas sweater. Even cuter fanning herself off from the warmth of the fire and her decorating efforts. Even cuter when Nayeon had simply suggested she take said tacky sweater off. And irresistible when she was shirtless and still decorating the tree in earnest.

How could she not jump her wife’s bones like that?

“Do you want to wash up and nap? I can try to handle the rest if you need me to.”

She finally looked down at Momo, seeing the way her wide, eager eyes sparkled in the glow of the room, prettier than any light she could ever hang on their tree. Absolutely breathtaking. “No, no, I couldn’t do that to you,” she pressed a kiss against Momo’s sweaty forehead, “I just need a minute.”

Her words were followed by an attempt to shift off of Momo’s lap, but her mind was much farther ahead than her body was. Almost immediately she was met with tired legs and an ache in her pussy. Deeper than any pilates session had ever made her feel.

Yeah, she wasn’t getting off Momo any time soon.

“Wow, you really tired me out,” she laughed, letting Momo press her slick bangs against her shoulder again.

“You tired yourself out. We could’ve picked a different position… ah- not that I didn’t enjoy it. I loved it-“

“I know, Momo, I know.”

Momo gave a sheepish smile, embarrassed at her overexplaination. Even then she looked beautiful in her shyness, fingers tapping against Nayeon’s thighs. The marks across her neck (from the makeout session that had even led to this) have bloomed darker, and part of Nayeon wished she could bend down to give her a few more.

But alas…

She shifted her hips again, testing the feel of Momo deep and still snug inside her, and was pleased with the little grunt she got in return.

She hadn’t felt that way in quite some time before this vacation. She’d missed it bad, and she could only hope Momo knew that. And even better, hoped that she wanted her just as much.

She had to let Momo know just how great she’d made her feel.

“What can I say?” Nayeon swiveled her hips again, “Sometimes that stocking stuffer of yours is just too much for me”

Perfect.

“I… Unnie. God, ew, never say that again.”

Momo moved to push Nayeon off, then thought better of it, settling for giving Nayeon what was probably the most disgusted look she could muster.

“What? As if you weren’t begging to come down my chimney a few minutes ago.”

“Unnie. I don’t know if you can feel that, but I’m actively getting soft right now.”

“Oh please, you just came like… 5 minutes ago. Of course you are.”

“Ok, but it’s faster this time.”

"Hmmm whatever,” Nayeon pouted.

A hush fell on them again, the crackling of the fire the loudest in the room. Despite being so put off but Nayeon’s jokes, Momo still held her close. For seconds, for minutes, however long it was. Even though they needed to clean up, and decorate some more and bake those cookies. Momo still held her. And…

That little liar.

“Getting soft, my ass.”

“Your ass is soft. That’s part of why I’m hard again.” Her hand slipped back from her thigh to palm at the a cheek. “It’s nice having you on my lap.”

Now Nayeon rolled her eyes, even though she had no right. “Aww but I thought my shitty puns were too annoying for you.”

“Maybe. But you’re sexy so it doesn’t matter.”

Momo usually liked to be bossed around a tad, but she had her selfish streaks. Like churning her hips up to test the waters of another round with Nayeon, barely moving yet still sending that delicious tingle up Nayeon’s spine.

She was cute, but Nayeon loved to tease.

“I should make those cookies,” she sighed, pressing a firm hand to Momo’s chest.

“Noooo, one more please. I promise I’ll laugh at all your puns.”

“…Deal.”