#With love I want to bite his head off like a gingerbread man

[t00s1lly]

uhh i see u tagged my art, i appreciate it sm i like people going crazy abt what they think <33

also mentioned u draw nottemcop SHOW ME NOW 👀 /hj /nf

I WISH I drew NottemCop, but alas, I cannot draw. I write a fuckton of it tho, it's on my ao3 <3

And, hell yeas... As soon as I saw your art in the tag, I went insane & deranged, I had to let it be shown

[finelinevogue]

gingerbread men

summary - christmassy vibes fic where you’re baking gingerbread and harry is being his usual self

word count : ~1k

pairing : husband!harry x reader

The front door closed, signalling that Harry’s home.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” Harry didn’t say to you, but your black and white cat Circe.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Harry talk to Circe. As Harry greeted your cat, you took out the gingerbread men from the oven and placed them on the side.

The kitchen smelt amazing, full of Christmassy scents like cinnamon and ginger. It was sweet and comforting.

And soon as Harry walked into the kitchen, there was another level of comfort.

He stood in the doorway, holding his car keys and his water bottle, smiling at you. He had this soft smile that he only reserves for you. One that could melt away a thousand problems and make your world feel safe.

“Something smells good.” Harry said, watching the kitchen floor as Circe passed him by.

“I got bored. Decided to bake and voilà… Gingerbread men.”

“You’ve had a productive day then.”

“I actually did. I did the washing and—”

“Well you didn’t wash everything baby.” Harry gave a knowing smirk at the t-shirt you were wearing.

It was the t-shirt Harry’s been wearing to bed for the past week. You were going to add it to the wash, but it smelt of Harry and you missed him today, so wearing a piece of him sounded like a good idea.

“Oh yeah. I’m wearing your t-shirt if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He glazed his eyes over you, like he often does when he’s having an ‘i-love-y/n’ moment.

“Stop simping for me, you simp, and come and give me a proper hello.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Harry immediately walked over to you, chucking his keys and water bottle on the side. You patiently waited for him to walk over, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him.

He was slow with his movements, but the space wasn’t too far between you. He met you with a kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms low around your waist so his hands could rest nicely at the bottom of your spine.

“That’s not a proper hello, mister.” You tutted, tilting your head up to look at his looming figure.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leant down to kiss your cheek once.

“Try again.” You said.

So he kissed your other cheek.

“Harry. I swear to God, if you don’t ki—”

Harry’s lips pressed onto yours before you could finish telling him off. Your lips moved knowingly over each others, pressing yourselves into one another with ease.

Before it could get too heated, Harry pulled away slowly.

“That was better.” You hummed in delight.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, kissing you lightly once again.

“I missed you today.”

“Not as much as I missed you.” He kissed you again, like he couldn’t stop. Like he didn’t want to stop.

“Did you write about me?” You teased.

“I can’t disclose that information yet.”

You groaned in frustration, since that’s all he ever told you about his new album he was working on. You knew it was a gift from himself to the fans, as always, but you often wondered what his inspiration for the day was and how that was channelled into a song.

“You’re so annoying.” You pushed his chest so he stumbled away from you.

“I know, and yet you still love me.” Harry shrugged.

You turned back to your tray of gingerbread men. “Think he could love me better.” You turned around to Harry holding up a gingerbread man to him.

Harry instantly leaned forward and took a great, big, bite out of the gingerbread man’s head. You stood there in shock over his territorial move.

“H-harry!” You laughed his name. “Babe, what the hell?”

“Damn, that’s a good gingerbread man.” Harry wiped his lips with a cheeky grin.

“He’s not a man anymore, you dickhead. He’s a headless body...” You giggled in shock still.

“Would you still love me if I was a headless body?” Harry asked you, finishing off his mouthful.

This would seem like a really random and weird question to anyone else, but these were actually the types of conversations that you two had with each other.

“Yes, ‘cause I wouldn’t have to see your stupid face anymore.”

You threw the headless gingerbread man down on the tray in disbelief.

“Heyy.” Harry pouted.

“No. You’ve done the damage now, babe.” You pretended to be mad.

“This is unbelievable…” Harry mumbled, before stepping to cup your cheeks and pull your lips to his. You instantly responded by moving your lips in sync with his, getting a taste for the remanence of your gingerbread men.

Harry pulled away once he was satisfied that he had been forgiven.

“They are pretty good.” You said with a smile, referring to the gingerbread men.

“Told you.”

[cloveroctobers]

let it snow — 6. Terry Richmond [Winter prompts]

A/N: It only makes perfect sense to write something loving for this man. My plan is definitely to see Mufasa during this Xmas season with the family. You already know I had to add some shenanigans to this as well! 🤍

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: 2. “S'mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt.” - "You just can't cook." + 13. neighborhood festive decoration competition becomes dangerously competitive.

WARNINGS: language + a sprinkle of sexual content.

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“S'mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt.” You softly exhale as you hold said s’more beneath your fingertips, staring at the treat so lovingly.

Terry gave you a side eye, sitting right beside you on the plushy outdoor sofa that’s set up in the screened in porch out back, “You just can't cook."

Which stops you immediately from biting into the slightly charred gooey dessert, “Okay, that was so nasty and so rude.”

“I mean that in the most respectable way.”

No way did he just try to pull a, “we listen and we don’t judge,” on you?

You tilt your head in confusion, lips pushed out, and a frown situated right between your brows. Maybe you weren’t the best cook and that was mostly in Terry’s department when it came to your shared household but you had no problem assisting and sampling!

Terry reached out to the table across from the couch, picking up the tin that contained the roasted s’mores, which you both participated in making at the pit in the backyard.

“Uh uh, you just said I couldn’t cook so keep your hands to yourself.”

Terry peers over at you with his naturally lined green eyes, chin burrying into his shoulder as he says, “You’re acting as if you made these all on your own. The stars are on the bottom, covered by your burnt ones.”

“They’re charred.” You sat up from your slouched position and stuck your nose up into the air.

“…Which is another term for overcooked.”

“You don’t cook s’mores.”

“You’re right,” Terry finds a s’more that looked the best, one he made, “you roasted and set them on fire.”

“The store didn’t have any more chestnuts to roast!” You argued, “And I’ve just about had enough of your slander on my s’mores. What is this? A holiday bake off?”

Terry scoffed, tossing his long legs up onto the table as he held a s’more of his own, “Not even close. You would be kicked off immediately.”

He grimaced at the black parts of the marshmallow that still remained from the s’more you previously bit out of. Which earned him a nice slap to the chest, and a rumble of laughter from him in return, letting you know that didn’t hurt as much as you intended it to.

Terry loved teasing you on your cooking skills, along with your family, who had no issue calling Terry up instead to see what he would be bringing to all sorts of family functions. It’s not like you didn’t try…you always had the vision but executing was the problem. During this season you were experimenting with soups and there was no better person to try it on than your man.

If you wanted honest opinions, Terry Richmond was your guy.

“…Hold up.”

Blinking you turn to see Terry slowly sit up—truly on some Michael myers type shit but you kept that to yourself—his eyes glaring out into the nightfall.

“What’s the matter?” You asked before popping the rest of the treat into your mouth.

Terry answers, “Look at our neighbors house and tell me what you see.”

Frowning you lean forward as well, looking left to right rather than straight ahead you respond, “…high ass light bills?”

Any other time Terry would have let out a laugh but by his posture, you can tell he was trying to keep his cool. The grunt that escaped his mouth and the air that flared from his nostrils, finally gets you to look at the house that was directly behind your home.

“Oh no he didn’t.” You stood up, watching as the inflatable gingerbread man stood tall and proud, “I said that was the theme we were going for.”

Terry nods, “Uh huh. Safi said he only celebrates kwanza and wasn’t into the whole decor like everybody in this community is.”

Safi just moved in a few months ago and you two were the first to actually go introduce yourselves with a platter of something nice. Just doing neighborly things and it seemed like Safi and Terry were getting along just fine. Safi even stopped into Terry and Mike’s catering business, building some sort of networking relationship at first. They hung out a few times, he invited you two over for dinner…so you weren’t completely strangers.

To put it simply, a heads up would have been nice.

“Looks like he changed his mind.” You crossed your arms, “Either that or he’s fake as fuck.”

Terry sighs, “I should go over and see if he needs any help.”

“Or you can just text him with a picture followed by a question mark?”

Terry gets to his feet now, “Things can get misconstrued through text, baby. I rather stop by.”

It was your turn to hum, “Well don’t take too long…the rain and sleet are supposed to come in again around nine and there’s a present I want you to open under the tree.”

The man dips his head as he starts shoving on his outerwear that he tossed on the other furniture as the indoor porch got a little too warm for him, “Let me guess, that present must be you?”

That knocks some of the annoyance out of your frame as you meet his awaiting emerald (usually peridot) hues in the dim of the attached space, “Maybe…you’ll just have to wait and see.”

He winks as he steps forward, pressing a scratchy kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

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“…my bad man, I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Safi lightly rubs at his jaw, shifting to lean against his ajar door, “First you stop by unannounced and then you and your lady accuse me of stealing a stupid gingerbread when everyone uses gingerbread decor, it’s Christmas.”

Terry felt his eyebrow twitch, hands clasped in front of him as he felt the wind pick up behind his back, “I apologize for stopping by so late on short notice. I just couldn’t help but to detect a decor piece that I showed you that I knew my lady would like. To my surprise it looks identical. You are aware that the back of our homes face each other…so one of us would see it?”

Safi folds his arms and slowly nods his head, “Sure but it wasn’t intentional.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am of you pressing me.”

Strike two!

“Okay Safi.” Terry sends him a smile that felt less than jolly, “I see where this is going so I hope you have a nice night and whatever holiday you suddenly decide to celebrate.”

Safi sends a mocking two finger salute, “Everything’s always good on my end, vet. Terry. Say hello to the Mrs. For me?”

Strike three!

You’re lounging right by the tree on a crocheted blanket and in front of the fire, back warming up soothingly as you patiently waited for Terry to get back. Hearing the front door slamming, you sit up a bit on your elbow, ready to get back into your model pose but sit up quickly at the hooded figure.

Who turns out to be Terry who sends you a wicked grin full of teeth, his nose crinkled at the bridge of his nose followed by the dip of his inner brows.

“You didn’t.” You peek at the deflated decor in his hands.

“Uh huh.” Terry drags it towards the indoor porch, “Safi thinks shit is going to be sweet just because it’s the holidays? Naah. We’re going to show him what happens when you move the way he does.”

Clacking your nails together in excitement as you sat cross legged, you nod at your man who tosses the inflatable onto the porch. When he turns back to you, drinking in the image of you in nothing but a red and white pinstriped blouse and thigh high socks.

“That can wait though.” Terry smirks as he starts peeling out of his jacket.

You’re up on your knees while Terry gets down on his, you’re almost chest to chest as he cups your face, his thumbs gently caressing the sides of your cheek bones while he stares deeply into your eyes.

“Glad you made it back to me in one piece, Richmond.”

Terry snorts, “Did you really have any doubts?”

You smirk, “I mostly said a prayer for Safi.”

“Course you did,” Terry laughs before tenderly pressing a kiss to your lips.

You melt into him just like the sleet that hits the windows. Just from that kiss alone, you’re fighting to catch your breath as you flick your eyes up to meet Terry’s which are shifting in hues the longer he stares at you, “…I hope you weren’t too rough on our gingerbread man.”

Terry leans down to place an open mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse race at its point, “I thought I said our plan to win this competition can wait?”

“I-it can.”

Great, now he had you stuttering!

“Then lay back and keep your eyes on me. If you close them at any point,” He leans in close enough to your ear, making your toes curl already, “You lose.”

And Terry knew just how much you hated that.

So call this a pre-game if you will, head tilted back, fighting to keep your eyes open that the warmth of tears glided down the corner of your eyes, arms down low on your man’s head, alternating against the urge to keep his face closer or push away while Terry got his own serving of festive Bailey’s cream from you.

The snow was the least of your worries tonight…and your worries sure as hell didn’t include Safi’s flip flopping having ass either!

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Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

[hooman4ever]

Slashers x Christmas HCs

Feel free to request other characters for this prompt today.

Includes: GN Reader, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair, Stu Macher

Contains: Slightly NSFW (Just nsfw gifts), Canon Typical Murder

Michael Myers

Christmas is something Michael is very aware of in the psych ward they’d always celebrate Christmas. The staff would put up snowflake cut outs and other imagery on the walls as well as festive music that Michael didn’t care much for. 

While Michael wasn’t much for the music, he loved the trees they’d put up. He enjoyed how the ward would smell like pine instead of the harsh chemicals it usually smelt like. When it came to decorating the tree the ornaments the staff could hang were limited to simple paper and felt cut outs Michael always loved when they would get to make their own ornaments. 100% you will catch this man making ornaments when Christmas time rolls around in the middle of the night. 

Don’t expect any help with the cooking (besides decorating cookies of course) or other preparations besides the tree and opening the gifts. Speaking of gifts, it's something Michael also enjoys. What do you get a stabby murder man who has everything he needs in life though? Knives or a new jumpsuit basically. Getting him a variety of weapons would be so thoughtful. (I personally would get him a gun imagine Michael Myers running around with a fucking gun)

Michael will get you gifts too although they won’t be the best quality. Expect stolen items from the people he’s offed sometimes it will be jewelry and other times random trinkets he thought looked interesting. One time he even gave you a half-used candle he found burning in the home of someone he killed. 

The glow from the tree was soft from the kitchen where you and Michael stood. Both of you surrounded the kitchen countertop looking ahead at the slaughter that lay before you both. Michael’s way of decorating cookies was extreme to say the least. Heads were missing and red frosting was everywhere it was a gingerbread massacre with no survivors. “Crunch,” beside you the culprit was dining on the massacred bodies of a full day of baking. Red stained Michael’s lips as the frosting slipped past his lips. “Are the cookies good?” you asked, eyeing the frosting, he nodded before taking another bite. “Well, at least they taste ok.” Sighing, you leaned in giving Michael a peek before licking off the frosting that stained his lips. “So sweet-” 

You were then shot 78 times in the chest. 

Stu Macher

Stu loves Christmas, well he loves all holidays really, and why wouldn't he it being a holiday means he'll get to throw a party after all. This man will never miss out on the opportunity to be over the top festive which means his home will be fully decorated with a giant tree and gorgeous ornaments. 

His home will smell like cookies and baked food when Christmas comes around. You know those Instagram photos where people have a huge counter covered end to end in deserts and food that'll be his kitchen come Christmas morning. The amount of alcohol will also be astonishing to say the least. 

Stu loves Christmas music and will blast it all day as soon as he wakes up. This man child will also make sure you're woken up by a speaker blaring Christmas music as soon as the sun peeks through your window. (I like to imagine him with a blunt in his mouth also because who doesn't love Christmas wake and baking before doing some baking)

Presents are always plentiful in Stu’s house thanks to his parents being so rich. He’ll adore anything you give him just excited to spend the holidays with someone he loves while being able to spoil them. After all, if he really wanted something it's not like he couldn't just go and buy it himself. 

Stu would love to give you gag gifts and just plain embarrassing ones. He would be the kind of person to give you lingerie or toys during friendsmas and God forbid someone asks you what you got because Stu would waste no time showing it off while laughing his ass off. 

Slender hands were intertwined with yours as the chattering of your friends mixed with the christmas music softly playing in the background. Gifts were being passed around quickly and Randy shouted names, throwing boxes left and right. “Stu, this ones for you from your special someone, how corny.” Randy said with a sharp smile on his face. “It’s only corny because you're here alone, where's your special someone buddy?” Stu shot back laughing as he grabbed the box from his hands. Ignoring the middle finger Randy flipped him. 

“It’s not much but I thought you’d like it.” your words were soft as you curled into Stu’s side resting your head on his shoulder enjoying how warm he was. The hand he had wrapped around your body only pulled you impossibly closer to him. “I could never hate something you give me,” he stated, unwrapping the box quickly. Inside was a gold watch with his and your name inscribed on the back. “It’s beautiful Y/n.” Stu muttered to you the alcohol on his breath potent. 

“Oh, Y/n this is from Stu,” Randy handed you the box and you were excited to open it. Stu stood up as you removed the last layer of wrapping paper stating how he “Had to get another beer,” and to“not wait for him and just enjoy your gift.” That truly should have been your sign to discard the gift. Inside the wrapping paper it was a simple brown box. You removed the tape and lifted the first flap only for yourself to be doused in glitter. In the doorway of the kitchen Stu stood laughing his ass off. You were quick on your feet trailing glitter as you ran after Stu “COME ON STU GIVE ME A HUG,” Screeching he ran apologies and pleads for mercy flying from his lips. 

Bo Sinclair 

“Christmas? Why would we need to celebrate that?” That’s what Bo would think about celebrating Christmas. Cut this man some slack though the Christmas he knows is far different from the loving way you plan to celebrate it. Growing up Christmas meant working at the museum to get it Christmas ready as well as constant fighting. Every little thing would turn into pure stress as his parents would go catatonic at the slightest problem. 

Bo would celebrate for you though. If you begged enough he’d help with the decorations but don’t expect them to be very aesthetically pleasing. It would honestly be best for you to leave the decorating to Vincent. 

Decorating cookies is something Bo would also not be very good at but he’d love to do it with you. Expect some frosting fights or Bo trying to sneakily eat the cookies as you're decorating them. Please make this man eggnog. He'd love it and probably will drink too much by the end of the night.

For gifts Bo would keep a little list throughout the year of things you like/want and he’d go to the nearest town and see what they have that would suit your hobbies. He loves getting you jewelry and clothes he thinks you’d look nice in also. I like to think of him getting you a special made locket in your aesthetic so you could keep a photo of the both of you close to you at all times. 

When it comes to receiving gifts Bo never expects much or anything really. Growing up he was never given more than lumps of coal so when you surprise him with a new rifle or something else he’s quietly ecstatic. He’ll just hold whatever you got him marveling at it. 

His favorite part of christmas is when he gets to have you cuddled up next to him the tv playing some old christmas movie in the background. Those moments make Christmas special to him. 

Warmth enveloped you as Bo’s arms held you snuggly to his chest. His chin rested on your head, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. The tv made good background noise as some old Christmas movie droned on filling the silence. Bo’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his heartbeat right next to your ear. It was a calming rhythm you found yourself getting lost in. Your eyelids felt heavy as the warmth around you seeped into your bones making your body go limp as sleep overtook you. “Night Y/n and merry Christmas,” You felt Bo’s lips press into the top of your head as you slipped into sleep. 

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  LINES OF YOUR HANDS

SUMMARY : dean tries being seductive in a Santa suit… and it works, surprisingly. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, on the kitchen table, Santa suit kink, nude photography, breeding kink, jerking off, cum play

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — (Santa) suit kink and nude photography. this was cute to me, idk ‘bout y’all, like yeah, the sex, but Dean’s so cute in my imagination (and in the show). had clara oswald and danny pink in mind for this one, lmao XXX

“Merry Christmas, my love!” Dean exclaimed from the doorway of the kitchen. His girlfriend turned around, distractedly biting off the arm of a gingerbread man. 

“You could’ve at least picked something sexy,” she snorted, turning away from him to bite the other arm of her gingerbread man. Dean pouted and made his way to her unenthusiastically. 

“Well, guess what I’m wearing underneath,” he proposed excitedly with his hands on his hips. She didn’t turn around to look at him this time. 

“Uh… your Scooby-Doo boxers?” She asked, grinning at the space in front of her before taking a bite of a gingerbread cookie’s leg. She knew that would make Dean whine more. “One of the hundred of black t-shirts you own, and uh… those ‘send noods’ socks, my fave,” she continued with a dreamy laugh. Dean sputtered. 

“No,” he pouted adorably. She shrugged, mouth full, drinking warm coconut milk to help the cookie go down. Defeated, Dean’s frown deepened. “Nothing,” he whined, then stomped over to her, hoping she’d look at him. “Come on, admit it’s sexy,” he smiled cheekily, sitting on the table next to the small plate with crumbs and a gingerbread man that no longer had arms and legs. 

She sighed playfully and then leaned back, eyes trailing from the top of his cute head to the bottom of his hot legs. She checked him out once more, contemplating his appearance: she stared at his thighs, the tent in the red, fluffy trousers, the tightness of the suit on him, the little bit of skin showing at his neck, the floppy red and white hat on top of his head.

She tried to give him what he wanted, to see the sexiness in his costume. But… she couldn’t help it, she smiled brightly at him. He was too damn adorable. 

“Oh, come on!” He whined, then hastily undid the black belt around his waist, letting the coat fall open. She held her breath as she watched him, her eyes glued to his taut, hot body, and his warm, freckled skin. He bit his lip, and pulled his pants down to release his cock, and slowly started to jerk himself off. 

That did it for her. Her stomach flipped and her pussy clenched, warmth spread over her face, her stomach, her cunt. She released a shaky breath as a wave of dampness ruined her underwear almost instantly. 

Squeezing her thighs, she fumbled and checked her pockets for her phone to take a picture. Maybe a lot more than one. This was so hot and definitely worth being kept in the hidden photo album of explicit photos and videos of her and Dean. 

When he saw it in her hands, he stopped touching himself and reached for the phone, but she snatched it away before he could snatch it away.

“Hey!” He complained. He thought she was going to ignore him and scroll through her phone instead.

“Shut up,” she grunted, which made his mouth shut instantly, “I’m trying to eat my gingerbread man and you want to seduce me… now deal with the fact that it worked.”

“You’re torturing the little man,” he stared down at the gingerbread man with an exaggerated frown. “But, hey, I ain’t complainin’ if you wanna take a few videos of me right now,” he grinned, going right back at it. “Did ya name him?” He asked, running his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock. 

“Patrick,” she laughed softly, then stood up to find the perfect angle. It didn’t matter though, he looked good from all angles. She snapped a photo, kept tapping and tapping the red button to get as many as she could. Data storage be damned. 

“Want some more frosting on Patrick?” He jested, but she was actually contemplating his offer. He cursed softly and watched her with hooded eyes. 

She leaned down to collect the beads of precum at his tip with her tongue which made his body tense up, a loud moan erupting from his throat. She reached over and took a bite of her cookie, mixing the sweet and tangy flavour of her two favourite things. “Yummy,” she snickered, staring straight at Dean. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, licking his lips. 

“Maybe when you’ve got another load, you’re cumming inside me first.” She pushed her cup and the headless cookie to the far end of the table, close to the wall. “Fuck, actually… should I take a picture of you cumming on your hand first?” She stopped in the middle of lifting her shirt up, staring at him as he slowed the pace of his movements to stop his orgasm. 

“No, later,” he decided for her, “please, get up here and ride me.” He begged, then shifted on the table to lie on his back, aware of the plate and cup she pushed against the wall when he placed the Santa hat with them. She snickered and lifted the top over her head. She wore no bra this morning and the sight of her  breasts made him moan softly. 

“Comfortable?” She asked, kicking her slippers off and then slid her leggings and underwear down in one swift pull. 

“Just get up here,” he told her impatiently, reaching down to tug at his balls instead of jerking himself off. She laughed again and did as he asked. She climbed up the chair, made her way onto the table, and then sat on his lap, taking his hard cock in her hand. 

“How are you making this work?” She teased, biting her lip, slowly stroking from base to tip. He instantly grabbed her hips, his red lips parted to release quick breaths as he brought her forward over his erect cock.

He shrugged, biting his lip and smiling cutely. “Please,” he begged again, urging her to take him. She playfully, teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, and stared down at him mischievously.

“Sam’s gonna get mad that we fucked on the table.” He knew she was stalling on purpose, getting him riled up. Her intentions were clearer when she reached for her phone again, and took a couple photos of his cock in her hand. 

She stopped stroking his cock to focus on taking more photos. It frustrated him and he groaned, reaching between her legs. While she treated him like a sex model, leaning back in his lap to capture him at the best angle with her phone, he separated her folds and brushed his thumb against her clit. 

His cock twitched when he brought two of his fingers to her entrance and an insane amount of slick met his fingertips. “Wow, it’s really workin’,” he chuckled, smiling up at her smugly. She rolled her eyes, lips parting when he pushed two fingers into her, meeting no resistance. “Please tell me you’re done, I wanna be inside you and feel all of this… wrapped around my dick,” he mumbled, pushing a third finger into her, then spread them apart inside her. 

“Oh… fuck, Dean!” She moaned in surprise. Her phone tumbled out of her hand and rattled on the floor, but it didn’t break. She slammed both hands on his chest as her thighs shook on either side of his body as his fingers curled against the front of her walls. 

“It’s Santa now,” he teased, pulling his soaked fingers out of her fluttering pussy to wrap it around his cock. She barely composed herself when he bucked his hips upwards, thrusting his cock into her swiftly. 

She cried out again and buried her face into his neck, making a tight fist with both hands clenching around the red and white Santa jacket he wore. She moaned softly when he rolled his hips gently, soothing the amazing stretch of her cunt around him. 

“Shit.. that was way too easy, babe,” he gasped, giving her ass a gentle swat. “You okay?” He murmured, kissing her temple. She nodded, her pussy fluttering needily around his cock. “Well…” he paused for a moment, reaching up to move her hair to one side, then lifted her mouth up to his. “What do you want for Christmas, sweetheart?” He mumbled against her lips, giving her a few loving pecks. 

She kissed him lewdly, licking across his sugary lips and into his minty mouth with a hum. With a smirk, she replied, “a baby.” 

His grip on her hair tightened and his cock twitched inside her. He pulled her off him with a sharp tug of her hair and stared at her face, stunned and aroused. “Don’t ask for something if you’re not serious about it…” he murmured, planting his black-leather-boot clad feet on the table.

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” She asked, placing her arm beside his head and laying her palm flat over his toned stomach. 

“That shit-eating grin on your fuckable face.” Before she could get out a reply, Dean began to piston his hips up into her, clasping both hands on her hips roughly to keep her from moving. 

With a surprised moan she pressed her forehead into her arm and wrapped her hand around one of Dean’s wrists, above his watch. 

She panted heavily into his ear, occasionally moaning encouragements that made him fuck her harder. Her clit slapped delightfully against his pelvis with each thrust and upward grind. He focused on chasing her pleasure more than his own, angling her hips so he could press his cock into the front of her pussy, brushing repeatedly over her sweet spots. 

“You want a baby?” He asked breathlessly, cock throbbing inside her velvety walls. He could feel her getting as close to her orgasm as he was, and continued to grind up against her after every thrust to stimulate her clit. “I’ll give you a baby,” he growled, latching his lips to her pulse. 

With a sharp thrust and a hard bite, he came inside her with a grunt of her name against her neck. Hot cum pooled inside her and triggered her own orgasm. With a shuddering moan of Dean’s name, she took Dean's face lovingly into her hands and kissed him as he helped her ride out her orgasm. 

Her kiss-swollen lips moved across his jaw, down his flushed neck and chest as they attempted to catch their breaths. Dean pulled her closer, his warm hands squeezing his favourite parts of her body that he could reach. Barely having caught their breaths, he mumbled, “I believe you need to let me eat your cookie now that I’ve delivered your gift. Santa’s gotta get a reward,” against her flushed cheek.

She moved away from his mouth and lifted a brow at the playful grin he gave her. “Do not call my vagina a cookie ever again,” she giggled, pushing up off his chest. Except he pulled her back down with his fingers around the back of her neck to peck her lips, once, then twice.

“Babe, please, I’m trying to be in the Christmas spirit,” he reasoned playfully with a nod, dimples on display with his puckered lips. He slid his hands down the curve of her back and stopped just shy of her ass, calloused hands caressing her soft skin.

She eyed him suspiciously and then dropped a lingering kiss on his forehead for cuteness. “Okay, I’ll let it slide… this time,” she smiled, then dropped doting kisses over his cheeks and nose. 

“Right, but you have no problem with me referring to myself as Santa, hmm?” He muttered, feigning disappointment. Mischievously, she stopped her kisses before she could get to his mouth, hovering over his lips after kissing the corner of his mouth. 

She pulled away as he waited for her kiss with a very subtle pucker of his lips and then, he had the audacity to pout again. “Be happy that I fucked you in this ridiculous costume at all,” she frowned, but her bright and amused eyes betrayed her serious face. 

“This costume is not ridiculous, okay? You’re ridiculous…” he scoffed, moving his hands away from her hips to cross them over his chest defensively.

She bit back a smile and slid off his soft dick, which made him reach out for her to return with his lips parted to ask her to come back. Instead, she took his hands to balance herself as she climbed off the table and took her phone off the floor, his cum already starting to dribble out of her pussy.

She squeezed her legs together as she unlocked her cellphone to study the photos she took of Dean. “I’m gonna get these framed… or.. I’m making my own porn magazine with photos of you naked.. yeah, that’s a great idea,” she spoke to herself thoughtfully. 

Dean blindly grabbed for the Santa hat, lifted his pants up, and slid off the table to wrap his arms around his naked girlfriend. He put the hat back on and dropped his chin on her shoulder to gaze at her phone.  

“Only if you do the same for me,” he proposed bashfully, then slowly started moving his hands down between her legs. She smiled and parted her legs for him, but she didn’t expect him to send a slap over her sensitive clit.

He must have expected her reaction because he released her immediately and backed away when she jumped with a shout and turned to face him swiftly. She glared at him and walked towards him until the metal counter hit his back. 

He licked his lip, trying to lean casually against the counter with his green eyes shining bright like shiny ornaments on a Christmas tree. He swallowed excitedly and smiled at her flirtatiously—that stupid smile he gave women when he tried picking them up or to get information out of them. 

“I’m tying you up with the Christmas lights for that,” she threatened seductively, pressing herself up against his taut body. He bit his lip and carefully moved his hands to her ass to keep her close, then squeezed. 

“Really?” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream is showing a Christmas Party. The boys are in Ugly Christmas Sweaters, and matching pajama pants.

There's a table with lots of food, and drinks, including a dozen Pizzas. A couple big couches were set close to a TV with a microphone set up.

They're currently doing Christmas Karaoke. Those not singing were on the couch with some bells, or shakers.

Leo was leading them is singing Feliz Navidad. Well it's more like shouting since they just hit the course.

"I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!" Leo basically yell sings into the Mic. Then a beat before going back to the more calm parts of the song.

Some watching were wondering how the audio wasn't just constantly peaking, or cutting out. Others were spamming lyrics and emojis in the chat. They were gifted some newer Holiday emojis for the party, and they were loving it.

There were some in the audience kinda Simping for Leo's Spanish, the mods were kinda just letting people go nuts, only timing people out when they got spammy.

The song finished, and Leo tosses the mic to Donnie who chose to sing 'You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch', reminding veiwers that Donnie has a deep vocal range.

Thus more simping in the chat along with emojis and lyrics.

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

They had finished the Karaoke and moved onto opening some fanmail. Since they didn't want to actually open presents just yet.

"Okay, this is from Jackie aka Softshell_Simp!" Leo starts before he's interrupted by Donnie.

"I told them to change their Username!!"

"Yeah, apparently that's not happening. So this is for Dee, ofcourse, here ya go." Leo lightly tosses the box.

Donnie cautiously opens and looks into the box. Their eyes go wide, and they close the box.

"What'd ya get Dee?" Mikey asks while pulling some nice art supplies from GlitterGraffiti_Art.

Donnie doesn't answer and instead gets up and walks away from the camera, a highly muffled "WTF!" could be heard.

"LANGUAGE!!" Raph shouts in the direction Donnie went. A still muffled but audible, "I'm not a teenager anymore! You can't stop me!" Was the response.

Raph just shook his head with exasperation while pulling some hand drawn cards and art done by young fans from the pile.

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

The guys had moved onto playing some Christmas Movie Trivia. They were running out of things to do on stream.

"The little known Lou Jitsu movie 'White Christmas Beatdown!' had how many references to past Lou Jitsu Movies?" Mikey read off of a card that might've been a home made version of a trivia game.

"Scoff. Easy, there were 20 references in that movie. Plus a hint to that canceled show." Donnie answers while drawing a card, "Who was kidnapped in the place of Santa, from a lack of knowledge, in The Nightmare Before Christmas?"

Raph's hand shot up, "The Easter Bunny!"

Leo was shuffling another stack of cards, and debating if he should try cheating or not.

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

"Alright, let's call it a night!" Raph announced as he got up from his seat.

Mikey lets out a yawn, and climbs onto Raphs shell, and starts to fall asleep.

Leo was in the background sipping on a drink, and bites the head off a Gingerbread Man.

"I hope this Christmas party was fun for you all Balemates. We'll very likely not stream again until after Christmas, but who knows. If so Happy Holidays, hope you get what you want, and have a nice rest of the night." Donnie turns to look at Leo, "Anything you want to add before I end the stream?"

Leo does some fingerguns, "Stay Beautiful Balemates. See ya, when I see ya. Bye!"

The stream switches to a Holiday Good-Bye/End Stream screen with cartoony Turtles in Santa Hats eating a Gingerbread House.

-------------------

Masterpost

I gave myself a break from writing this AU, but already have a few drafts/WIP. Can't wait to see what other random thing inspires me to write more!

[sunny-lounge]

We got matching Christmas sweaters. (Ch 2/2)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: Teen — feelings and emotions, fluff, Christmas, a kiss, fun and silly, ugly Christmas sweaters, slight possessive feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, relationship reveal, family

Summary: Jey and Sami have matching ugly Christmas sweaters, it's a secret. Until it's not. Part 1 - how Jey and Sami got their matching sweaters Part 2 - how the others found out.

Word count: 2,667

Ao3 link - Ch 2 / Ch 1 here. / *Other Fics*

A/N: I said I'd write something lighter this time so here it is, and I wanted to try something different. I didn't have a lot of time to write this because I wanted to get it out before Christmas. But hey, even if one person out there enjoys it!! 🥰 HERE’S PART 2!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!✨❄️🎄🎁🎅🏻🎉☃️✨ I hope you enjoy this! 🌸🌺

[— Again: I'm not a "writer" SO... Comments/Feedback would really really be appreciated (comments sec; tags; or asks- anon or not), to really just actually, and quite genuinely gauge how good or BAD this is. So I know for myself 😁. And obviously I'd really love to know if you enjoyed it! - comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami

——

He knows he's being ridiculous. The others won't care right? Maybe they won't even notice that it's part of a set, after all, Sami isn't scheduled to come in today. So Jey's confident he can get away with this.

And, really where would Sami even wear his 'Christmas' sweater, he doesn't actually celebrate the occasion...Jey thinks they're safe.

Walking into the locker room dropping his bag down Jey spots Jimmy immediately, grinning at his older twin. It's hard not to, Jimmy's always had that ability to make him smile, big smile, always been able to no matter what else is going on around them, no matter how bad or how chaotic, Jimmy always puts a smile on his face without even trying, seeing his face is enough to.

Jimmy's wearing a holly-green sweater that's looking extra soft and fluffy. At the top, "BITE ME!"— shiny silver sequins bordering it's glittering red letters, a large gingerbread man cookie dancing at the midsection one leg up in the air twirling, complete with a glitter candy cane in its hand being swung around, icing embroidery outlining its features, and the most gaudy obnoxious looking pompom buttons known to man going down its front. It looked like someone had thrown up a mix of different colored glitter in random patches all over the remaining parts of his sweater.

All in all it is hideous. His brother Jimmy has hit the brief of "ugly" Christmas sweater to perfection, he's understood the assignment and executed it to the highest standard. Jey is not one bit surprised...that Jimmy excelled at this.

“Ain't you all 'sweeet'  lookin' today, Uce,” croons Jey, leaning in with a smirk. Jimmy just grins at him like he's pleased with himself, throwing a candy cane at his head, which he manages to duck last minute.

“You so lame, Uce. 'Sweeeeet'!?  Really? This early with them lame ass puns?" huffs out Jimmy, laughing. "But, I am lookin' damn 'sweeeeet' aren't I?" he smirks, wriggling his eyebrows.

"I'm jus' learnin' from the best, Uce," quips Jey, shooting him a toothy smile. "Yea, you just soo...sweeeeet lookin', Uce, my teeth all gon' fall out."

He can see Jimmy gearing up to reply, but before he can, Solo's walking around the corner and giving Jey a stoic once-over. “Nice,” he nods, and continues on his way. 'Well, if that isn't the highest compliment coming from Solo..,'  thinks Jey. He's glad once again that he changed his mind and chose to wear this sweater.

The Wiseman already seated to his right is dressed in a purple sweater with a spectacular looking golden menorah on its front, orange flamed white candles resting in it, and immaculately detailed tiny multi-colored dreidels delicately embroidered all around the hem and ends off his sleeve. Classy.

“Wiseman! Lookin' good!” says Jey, a little too loudly, sue him, he's a little surprised with the holiday spirit and enthusiasm being shown, as he himself is feeling it. Seems like everyone's getting into it, he'd forgotten the Wiseman was Jewish.

Looks like Jimmy was right after all, he really is starting to feel an extra sense of camaraderie and togetherness already.

“Figured I'd join you rather than fight it," says the Wiseman, with a shrug, "I knew I was out numbered...,” trailing off, sighing. Looking and sounding down and defeated, if not for the slight smirk gracing his lips.

Always a sly low-key shit-stirrer...but that's what made him so unique, that's what makes him the 'Wiseman'— One minute he's showing off his brilliant and intellectual mind, the next he's strategically taking down their opponents with his hidden expertise. But, on the other hand, he's also cleverly busting your balls, and half the time you don't realize it till it's too late. They appreciate this side of him too, it's one of the reasons they all got on so well.

Solo's sweater is more subdued, a dark deep red with little white snowflakes embroidered around the collar, the midsection, hem and his cuffs, little shiny threaded brightly colored hollies in-between them. So Jey makes it a point to tell Solo, "You look nice too, Uce."

Solo's made the effort and that matters, and Jey wants to let him know it, it shows that Solo still underneath it all wants to be a part of the "family", to somehow even fit-in, in his own way, even if he sometimes acts otherwise.

"He does, don' he, Uce," adds Jimmy, cheesing at them from the other side. "You look nice, dawg!"

And of course, Solo responds with his single stoic nod, because that's what Solo does. And, it's the best they'll get from him, but they're used to it. And, it's okay, because that's their baby brother.

Just then the door opens and in walks Roman, announcing Sami will be dropping by soon to go over their tag team match together; it's unexpected, but he's excited to see Sami, just like he always is and he silently wonders if this feeling will ever fade. It's like he's perpetually living in the 'honeymoon' phase of theirs, just over and over, on and on, never completely escaping. Ever since, well, ever since the beginning, really. So, he's looking forward to seeing his boyfriend especially when they'd thought they would be spending today apart.

They've been in plenty of work situations since they've become boyfriends, and nothing's changed. Jey isn't worried about that.

'Boyfriends' it still feels weird saying it because it's such a foreign concept to Jey. And he's not sure, if he'll ever get used to the swarm of butterflies he feels that comes along with it. His stomach in chaos every single time, another occurrence that's completely foreign to him, every single time making it fluttering like crazy when he realizes that Sami is now—his boyfriend.

It hasn't caused any trouble yet, both of them being able to remain professional. Even though he's finding it harder and harder to stop himself from jumping Sami, and trapping those sweet pink soft delicious kissable...damn..he could go on...lips between his whenever he sees them, like they were always demanding to be taken—and really, he'd just be taking what's now his. The possessive bastard that he is, constantly wanting to come out and play whenever Sami is around. Something else he's never experienced, this constant need and want for someone, for them to be his and only his in every way, never until Sami.

“Told Sami we're wearin' Christmas sweaters, so he don't feel like a damn fool when he shows up,” shares Roman, walking past. And amused murmurs of agreement rise, from Jimmy and the Wiseman, waiting to see what the 'honorary Uce' will turn up in.

Roman himself is wearing a sweater that's a rich royal deep red, almost bordering on maroon, tight and fitting, an intricate extremely detailed golden snowflake carefully woven with fancy shimmery gold thread featuring right in the center, tiny white and silver snowflakes scattered around, the illusion of snow falling from the sky. Completing out the look of a magical, royal and regal Christmas—just like Roman.

So far, it looks like it's three for three. Three very decent, nice, and put together Christmas sweaters worn by Solo, the Wiseman and Roman. And, three 'ugly' Christmas sweaters worn by, Jimmy, himself and...

And, then it hits Jey. Now he's a little worried, because he knows Sami only owns one Christmas sweater—the one that matches Jey. The one he's currently wearing.

Jey is quickly running through his options, his escape plan, his excuse...

He's hoping maybe he'll get called out, by management or the crew for something that needs to be taken care of. Or, he can pretend he is sick. Maybe, pretend this is all just a big coincidence, and they just happened to have matching sweaters, he's fairly sure no one's going to buy that though. Or, he could just take his sweater off.

And, none of which would solve anything because everyone's already seen the sweater. At the very best he'll be able to avoid their reactions for a while, but what's the point, he's going to have to face them eventually and avoiding it will only make them rib him even harder. And, he can't find it in himself to leave Sami all on his own to face these bunch of brutes he calls family.

As though fate has been listening in on his lamenting, his inner dread, it is at that precise moment that Sami casually strides into the locker room.

Jimmy notices first, guffawing out a high bubble of laugher. “Jey, you and Sami matchin'! Man, I thought you 'n me was twins, dayoneish!”

Jey can't really focus on Jimmy, shifting his gaze a little, away from his twin now training it on Sami, wearing the matching set of their pair of sweaters. Sami just gives him a sheepish rueful smile in return, messily running his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture of his. Shrugging, with a 'it is what it is and I'm going to run with it' motion.

Jey is stuck for a second, not knowing what to say or how to react, but he doesn't need to.

“I’m surprised by your taste, Jey. Nice ugly sweater you're wearing by the way,” grins Sami, with a wink, smirking like nothing's wrong at all.

'That smug cocky red-headed menace,'' thinks Jey, adoringly, still unable to say anything helpful as he hears Jimmy let out another bout of laughter, watching Sami heading towards Roman waiting on the other side.

Jey stealthy grabs his phone typing out a quick message to his boyfriend.

- - 'Shit. I don' know if I wanna punch you right now or kiss that damn smirk off your face. You enjoyin' this too much Sami...'

He watches as Sami, still listening to Roman going through all the possible scenarios of their match and how to strategically counter them, read the message. Sami's eyes widen just the slightest, you can barely notice it, almost like Jey is seeing things, eyebrows rising just a touch, again not noticeable unless you're really looking. He sees Sami's tapping out a reply, face blank again still appearing unbothered and nonchalant as ever to everyone around.

But, Jey knows him better than that, he can see Sami's body barely keeping from reacting, coiling tense in anticipation, something simmering at the surface.

- - 'Then do it, Jey. I’m game if you are.'

Jey's staring at the message, he stares and stares, dumbfounded mildly disbelieving what he's reading. Is Sami joking? So he looks up again and almost flinches, Sami is looking right at him, dead in the eyes with a seriousness so intense that it sends a shiver straight down his spine.

He didn't think Sami would ever go in for such a bold move, he'd have thought if it had been one of them suggesting it, it'd have been him—suggesting this, to kiss in front of everyone, in the middle of the locker room...but Jey can't deny that he really wants to. He wants his family to know how happy he is, he wants everyone to know just how lucky and complete he is, and he wants to share this. He wants to show Sami off. And, it looks like Sami wants to do the same.

Roman and Sami seem to have finished discussing their move for their upcoming match, vaguely hearing Sami agreeing with the plan they've come up with. And, they say their goodbyes. Sami says his goodbyes to the rest of them as well, each in their own unique way, a handshake, a hug, a nod, or a combination.

And as Sami turns to leave, Jey calls out for him. “Hey, Sami?”

Sami turns around with a questioning look on his face.

Jey ignores it stepping forward, wrapping his large hand around Sami's shoulder holding him in place, softly sliding it up the back of his warm slender neck, and slowly pulling him in and kissing him—open-mouthed, long and hard, possessive and hungry, licking right into his mouth chasing the taste of him. He's putting on a show, claiming Sami in front of them, marking him as his.

Jey can feel Sami's sweet grin of acceptance and complete surrender under his lips, mapping it out with his own, and he's sure Sami can feel him smirking right back, he hears his twin whooping and wolf-whistling in the background, and he's pulling away with a laugh, huffing out a little breath.

Resting his forehead against Sami's, they're breathing a little hard, Sami with his eyes closed and Jey with his open. Sami savoring the moment the still phantom feel and taste of Jey on his lips, while Jey is savoring Sami taking in the beautiful blissed out man before him.

They probably didn't need to kiss for that long or with so much intensity. But, now there isn't a single doubt in anyone's mind as to who Sami really belongs to. He might be part of the Bloodline, but he's Jey's.

And, there's a pleasant prickling, a tingling against his skin at the thought of it. He knows he's become a possessive bastard, and now his family knows it too. He's just made it very clear, there's no doubt in anyone's mind. Sami belongs to him. He belongs to Sami.

He keeps looking at Sami and he wants to taste those reddened plumped up swollen lips in front of him once again, in front of everyone once again, the ones that he caused to look that way.

"We still on for tonight?” asks Jey, going for casual, acting like the last few minutes didn't just happen.

Sami just grins at him all teeth, dopey looking fully gone on Jey, with that twinkle in his hazel eyes that's so distinctly Sami, the one that Jey can't ever look away from. “Of course, Jey.”

Sami ducks his head a shy smile now gracing his kissed-out lips, face still flushed still looking slightly dazed as he leaves, making an obviously quick escape while he can, in these precious last few moments of silence when he has the chance to.

Jey slowly turns back to his family and catches Solo passing Jimmy a $50 note. Roman and the Wiseman solemnly doing the same. He hears Roman distinctly mumble something like 'He couldn't have waited another week?'

“You knew?” Jey asks Jimmy, as casually as he can.

He's surprised, but he's also really not to be honest, more like a little affronted if anything, he could never really hide anything from Jimmy—his twin, the one person who sometimes knows him better than he knows himself, knows his own thoughts even before he does, his own feelings even before he can comprehend them, his dayoneish.

“Course, Uce! You know you ain't hiddin' nothin' from me. Don' know why you even think to try. 'Sides we be blind not seein' it,” says Jimmy, rolling his eyes grinning, and Solo is doing his stoic nod in agreement next to him.

He looks to the others, at Roman and the Wiseman and they too are giving Jey the 'you really think we didn't know? Do we look blind and stupid to you?—that's sad...' look.

Jey just shakes his head not knowing whether to feel a little put out by the whole thing or rightfully elated by their reactions, and sits back flopping down. All the tension and anticipation leaving him, his body loosening up and relaxing. They finally did it. He and Sami had done it, and the world hadn't ended, Sami had been right all along, Jey had just been over thinking it all.

Jimmy is still giving him that stupidly large and wide grin of his, and for all it's worth Jey can't help but return it in equal measure.

His attention turns to the pinging of his phone and he scoops it out of his pocket opening it.

- - 'I love you.'

Another ping rings.

- - 'I've got dessert waiting for you 😏'

——

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷

[ladamedusoif]

Mulled Wine (Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 12

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist, and follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates.

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/18+ MDNI

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; established relationship; light smut (heavy making out and fingering; implied smut; no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of reader; language

Word Count: 1050

Summary: He might be a whiskey man by name, but he’s willing to try anything if you offer it.

I imagined this as part of the “Sleigh Ride” universe, though of course both fics can be read separately.

For @agentjackdaniels, as ever.

Jack takes off his boots on the porch, shaking off the snow, and quietly lets himself into the ranch house. He can hear you humming and clattering pans and bottles in the kitchen, presumably rustling up another of the little treats you love to make when you’re down here, just the two of you.

He tiptoes in his warm, thermal boot socks across the floorboards and peeks around the kitchen door. You’re absorbed in whatever it is you’re making, bobbing your head to music and wiggling your hips. The ties of your apron only serve to accentuate the curve of your waist, your hips, that generous ass that drives him insane, and Jack has to take a moment before he loses the run of himself.

You don’t hear a thing as he approaches, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. He gets up nice and close - and then he strikes, wrapping his arms around you and smooshing the frozen, pink skin of his cheek against your warm face.

“JACK! Fucking hell, babe!”

He chuckles as you squeal at the cold and playfully slap his arms away, spinning you round and holding you all the closer.

“Sure is a pity when a woman doesn’t want to help warm up her man.” He does that half-smile you love so much. It’s all you can do not to haul him to bed and really warm him up.

“You’re damned lucky you’re cute, Mr Daniels.” You reach for a cheap but cheerful bottle of red wine and uncork it before pouring it into a large pan.

“And your problem is you’re just too cute, Mrs Daniels,” Jack replies, taking off his navy-blue padded coat and scarf to reveal the green plaid flannel and simple grey sweater beneath.

He wanders over to watch what you’re doing. “Hold up, darlin’. Did you just pour a whole bottle into that pan?”

You nod and giggle at his confused expression. “Sure did.”

He spots the spices and oranges lined up and ready to join the steaming purple-red liquid in due course.

“Aw, no. This isn’t that hot wine thing, surely.”

“Hot wine? It’s mulled wine, Jack. Or Glühwein, in German. It’s delicious!”

Your husband looks sceptical. He’s a man who doesn’t much believe in adding extra flavours to alcoholic beverages. If it doesn’t stand up on its own, it’s probably not worth drinking.

But he’s curious, watching you add cinnamon sticks and star anise and cardamom pods and cloves and orange slices to the wine as it starts to bubble away on the stove. And damned if it doesn’t smell divine.

You catch his nose twitching as the aroma develops. “What’s it smell like, baby?”

Jack closes his eyes and thinks. “Christmas.”

***

He’s left you to finish fixing the wine and has set a roaring fire in the stone hearth, lighting a couple of candles here and there, just the way you like it.

“Okay, love. I’ve got the mulled wine and some cookies, too.”

He takes a glass mug of the steaming beverage, wrapping an arm around you as you settle beside him on the sofa. You offer him a cookie - small, domed, coated in a thin white icing.

“Never seen these before, darlin’.” He picks up a cookie and looks at it, sniffing it cautiously.

“Lebkuchen.”

“Leb-what now?”

“Lebkuchen. Like a soft gingerbread cookie. They used to sell these with the glühwein at the German Christmas market back in the city, when I was a kid.”

Jack takes a bite and savours the honey-sweet spices as they send his tastebuds tingling. “Goddamn. That’s delicious, sugar.”

“Try the wine.”

He still looks sceptical, but the look in your big eyes would convince anyone. So he raises the mug to his perfect mouth and takes a sip.

“Well.” He turns to you. “Well, I’ll be. That’s perfect. Feel like it’s warmin’ me up all the way down to my toes.”

You beam and drink from your own mug, wriggling your toes contentedly. The light from the candles and the fire highlights the beautiful contours and hollows of Jack’s face, picking out golden accents in his coffee-brown eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

He pulls a bashful expression and flutters his eyelashes. “Gee, shucks.”

“I mean it! And you married me. Me!”

Jack’s eyebrows furrow, confused. “Because you’re the most beautiful and best woman I’ve ever met, darlin’.”

He takes another bite of the cookie. “And you make delicious lobcookins.”

You chuckle awkwardly and bury your face in his chest. “Uh…I may have bought some when I was in the city, before we came down here. So… not homemade.”

Jack feigns horror. “Not homemade?! Well, that’s just not good enough, sugar.”

He takes your mug and puts both of them down on the little side table, before leaning over and caging you with his arms.

“Now what am I supposed to do with you, huh?”

You giggle. “What would you like to do with me, baby?”

Jack’s eyes fall to your body, one hand sliding up and under the fabric of your plaid shirt and long-sleeved undervest. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

“Tell me.”

He leans in and starts to nibble at your neck as his big hand finds the soft flesh of your breasts, caressing and groping as he hums happily against your throat. “I would like to play with your tits while I kiss your neck and slip a couple of fingers into your panties, darlin’.”

Right on cue, he brings his hand down to unbutton your jeans, and your hips buck upwards against him.

“I’d like to get you off a couple of times with my fingers, feel you all warmed up and ready for me.”

He slips his fingers into your jeans, pulling aside the soft cotton of your panties and finding your pussy as you whine with pleasure.

“Then what? Then what, Jack?”

He slips his fingers away and sits back up, gazing down at you, already halfway to wrecked and still (mostly) clothed.

“Why don’t I get some blankets on that nice hearth rug and I’ll show you, sugar?”

[lewmagoo]

I don't celebrate Christmas, but how about a cozy + wintery thought? My brain can't stop thinking about cuddling in front of the fire with Rhett, mugs of hot cocoa and fresh cookies in hand. Your free hand combs through Rhett's hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he can't remember the last time he's ever felt so warm or so loved by another person. 🥹 ❄️

a blizzard had rolled in from the mountains. with harsh winds that rattled your windowpanes and sent the barn doors shuddering open. this sent rhett right out into the cold to fasten the doors so that the animals would stay safe. he’d had a scare the year prior with his mare getting out during a blizzard. he wasn’t about to have that happen again. because he had to venture out into the arctic tundra, you decided to prepare a small pot of hot chocolate. over the years, you’d perfected your recipe, and it was rhett’s favorite. you had also baked some cookies together earlier that day. or rather, rhett had sneaked bites of raw dough until you’d finally shooed him away and tasked him with setting out all the cooking racks on the kitchen table.

the cookies had since cooled, and while the hot chocolate was coming to a low simmer, you set about filling a plate with cookies. gingerbread men and sugar cookies. the sugar cookies were a recipe his mama had given you, and they were a hit with your cowboy. he’d devour all of them at once if you let him. you knew he’d be overjoyed when he returned inside to find a plate of cookies and a mug of cocoa waiting for him. and sure enough, when he came stumbling back inside, covered in snow and grumbling about the damn wind, you were waiting in the living room, by the roaring fire. “c’mon, get in here and get warm,” you called, as he undid his coat and kicked off his boots. the scowl darkening his brow immediately softened. “what’s all this?” he asked, as his sock covered feet carried him toward you. you smiled as you leaned in to kiss his nose, reddened from the cold. “thought you might want some cocoa and cookies, handsome.”

at that, he beamed. “y’ sure know the way to a man’s heart, pun’kin.” you couldn’t help but hum at the sweet term of endearment. his pronunciation of pumpkin. it was his turn to kiss you, and he pressed one to the top of your head before he settled down onto the couch, with you following. you spread a big, soft blanket over the both of you before you handed him his mug of cocoa and a gingerbread man and a sugar cookie. he thanked you with another kiss. he couldn’t get enough of kissing you. as he happily ate his cookies, you enjoyed your own, while simultaneously bringing your hand up to come through his curls. he’d let his hair grow out a little longer than usual, much to your delight. it was freshly washed, too, and soft, thanks to the conditioner you’d convinced him to start using. (“hey! there ain’t any knots in my hair this time around!” he’d exclaimed to you after he first used the product. he’d continued using it ever since).

as your fingers gently scratched at his scalp, he found himself relaxing against you. he loved when you massaged his scalp. oftentimes, you’d do it when he couldn’t sleep, and it would send him straight to dreamland. it was comforting, and it also fed his need for physical contact. being surrounded by you, by your scent and your touch, was everything to him. it made his heart sing. and right now, he felt like it would burst right out of his chest. you knew how to make him feel special. making his favorite hot chocolate and cookies? he was so touched by such a simple gesture. it reminded him of how much you truly loved him. you didn’t just say you loved him and then didn’t show it. no, your love for him was evident in the way you took care of him, the way you prioritized him. he didn’t have to work hard to earn your love. you gave it to him freely.

“gosh, i love you,” he murmured, his head drooping to rest on your shoulder, his eyes fixated on the warm glow of the fire before you. you smiled, moving to nuzzle against his head. “i love you too, cowboy. more than anything.”

[hybridalrhue]

Christmas, what are you?

I always loved Christmas that comes once a year.

But, a question had been buzzing around in my head.

Christmas, what are you?

So, I dashed downstairs to the kitchen to ask mama.

She was just pulling out the gingerbread cookies from the oven.

"Mama, what is Christmas?" I asked.

She placed cookies on the counter to cool.

"Christmas is delicious cookies that smell hot and fresh." She answered.

She handed me a gingerbread cookie shaped like a bell.

As I took a bite of the cookie; I thought for a minute noticing that it did not answer my question.

Christmas, what are you?

So, I went off to the living room to daddy after finishing the cookie.

He was sitting in his favorite chair drinking hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies on the TV set.

"Daddy, what is Christmas?"

He took a sip of his cocoa and sighed. "Well, my boy. Christmas is watching Christmas movies next to the fireplace and drinking nice hot cocoa."

My little sister was sitting next to the Christmas Tree shaking all of the gifts under it.

"No, no, no… Christmas is when Santa comes every Christmas Eve night and gives all the little boys and girls presents when they are on the nice list."

I smiled then started to think.

Those answers were not the answers to my question.

Christmas, what are you?

So, my Nona entered the living room with some decorations in a box.

"Nona, what is Christmas?"

She gave me a smile. "My, aren't you a curious one. Well, Christmas are decorations that you put on the tree and around the house."

She handed my little sister and I our stockings to hang on the fireplace.

I thought for a minute about her answer.

But, that still didn't answer my question.

Christmas, what are you?

I then sighed and went to the stairs and sat down with my hands underneath my chin.

My granny walked in through the door with my grandpa carrying presents in the house.

They noticed I was a little upset.

"My sweet grandson, what's the matter?"

"Hi, granny. Hi, grandpa. I want to know what Christmas is?" Granny a seat next to me on the stairs. "You see, I asked Mama. She answered Christmas were fresh baked gingerbread cookies.”

“Then I went to daddy. He answered that Christmas was a cup of hot cocoa while watching Christmas movies next to the fireplace. Sissy answered that Christmas was when Santa comes to every house to give presents to every little boy and girl who are on the nice list. Then Nona walked in the living room with some decorations. When I asked her, She answered that there were decorations to put around the house. But, none of them answered my curious question."

Granny thought for a minute and had a brilliant idea.

She stood up and went to the kitchen to talk to mama then came back.

"Come with me. I will show you what

Christmas is."

I nodded and got on my winter coat with my hat and gloves.

Then slipped on my snow boots.

I took my granny's hand to follow her down the street to our local church.

We walked in the church and took a seat near the front.

I noticed that there was a man and a woman.

The woman was holding a baby and was surrounded by angels and shepherds.

Not just them but three kings known as the wise men.

My granny leaned over towards my ear.

"You see that baby in the mother's arms. That baby is named Jesus, he is Christmas. You see he was born unto this day. He was born to be our savior."

My eyes glittered with joy on the site.

So, Christmas wasn't freshly baked gingerbread cookies, hot cocoa while watching Christmas movies next to the fireplace, Santa coming to bring presents to everyone on the nice list or decorations to put around the house.

Christmas is not what, it's a who.

Christmas, what are you?

You are the one we call savior.

You are the one who is the king of kings and the lord of lords.

You were born on this day of all days. The holiest of nights.

You are the light of the world.

You are Emmanuel. You are Messiah.

You are Jesus Christ, the king of all.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Prompt{ Nice } :2:Baking holiday cookies.

Character: Ebenezer Scrooge

Fandom: A Christmas Carol

Warnings: None

A/n:I can’t help, I love him.

Ebenezer wasn’t used to this, being in a relationship again. Though you seemed to be a bright light in his life. Always showing up on his doorstep with a bright smile on your face with a basket of sweets. He never understood why you seemed so attached to him, why you would ever have feelings for him, even when he was so cruel to you.

He hated it, he wished he could take back the things he said in the past. You may have laughed it off, told him it did not matter but to him it did. He had to make it up somehow, with Christmas right around the corner the man knew he could at least help you with all the baking, with everything you would be doing for the poor it was the least he could do to take some weighs off your shoulders.

Rolling his shoulders he made his way down the street towards your shop, still not used to the kindness the people were giving him he did his best to return the smile as he slipped into your bakery.

“Ah Ebenezer! I was wondering when you would get here.”

Smiling, Scrooge could already feel the tension leave his.With just a smile you could easily make him feel at home. Stepping close he grasped your fingers giving them a kiss. “Hello love.”

Beaming at the man you then wove his fingers through your own as your tugged him towards your little kitchen. “We’re making cookies today! Have you ever made them before?”

Licking his lips the man looked at all the utensils. “ I don’t believe I have.”

“Well now you will.” Beaming you placed your hands on your hips.

Slumping his shoulders, he was hoping to spend some alone time with you. “Yes….let’s.”

+•+

Never once in his life did he thinking baking could be this hard. First the dough was wrong, then the shapes were wrong. He honestly wanted to toss the damn things out a window though at least they were done and you two could leave.

Wrinkling his nose, Ebenezer stared down at the misshaped gingerbread men. They didn’t look that bad, at least it was edible….he hoped.

Stepping behind him, you peered over his shoulders giving him a weak smile.

“They’re….cute.” Pausing for a moment you placed your hand on his shoulder, the whole table was a mess but at least he had fun doing it. “They can not be that bad…they still look like people…if you tilt your head.” Reaching over you grabbed one of the cookies taking a bite. “They’re delicious though….let’s bring these home.”

Still sweet, that was the reason why he loved you. “Well I think I will just leave the baking to you”

Giving him a wink you placed the cookies Ebenezer made in a little basket, glancing up at him you stifled your laughter seeing flour on his face. Instead you grasped his hand with your free one. “And since you’ve been such a good boy, I’ll give you my treat.”

Blinking, Ebenezer let his mind process what you told him though once it finally hit him a slow smile formed on his face. “I can not wait.”

[bluejaem]

⌗ what christmas with them is like ( ver. dreamies )

not requested , cw. mentions of food (mk, jm, js)

(✿) —; MARK LEE. “why do you always bite the heads off the gingerbread man cookies first?” you lightly chuckled when you saw mark suddenly pause chewing on the cookies as he looked up at you with doe-like eyes, evidently confused. “wait, do i?” he asked, mouth still half-full with the cookies. “well, the headless gingerbread man cannot say anything for himself so as his representative i’d say, yeah, you do.” and a broken laugh left your lips as you watched mark stare at the cookie in horror.

(✿) —; HUANG RENJUN. “you know,” you started, trying to grab renjun’s attention. “you shine brighter than the star on top of this tree?” you said, completing the sentence with a satisfied smile on your face. yes, you were impressed by your own flirting skills. his eyes left the christmas tree in question and found yours, “yeah, i know,” this statement accompanied by a prideful (but also somehow still very adorable) grin adorning his lips. you scoffed in disbelief as renjun then hugged you from the side to comfort you. and laughing his heart out, he said, “i love you too!”

(✿) —; LEE JENO. after eyeing the christmas tree ornaments section for a while, you point at a candy cane set on the shelf and ask, “this will do, don’t you think?” your head instinctively turns towards jeno but you are greeted with his figure holding a mistletoe in his hands. “but mistletoe doesn’t sound so bad either. i mean, that’s one more great excuse for me to earn a kiss from you.” his eyes morph into crescents and his lips perk up. hearing this, you playfully hit his arm, to which he feigned a pained hiss— which was then followed by shared laughter.

(✿) —; LEE HAECHAN. you find yourself in a devastated state after having laughed so much because of haechan belting out consistent fancy notes while singing his favorite christmas classics. “88! ha, beat that!” he exclaimed into the microphone after checking his score on the karaoke app. you get up on your feet and pick up one of the mics to answer him. “gladly.” a smile played on your faces as you both then went on to sing your heart out to ‘all i want for christmas is you,’ while occassionally laughing in between because of something silly the other would do.

(✿) —; NA JAEMIN. you squirmed while inside the blanket that currently embraced your figure, rubbing your hands together to provide some kind of warmth. and jaemin walked in just in time, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and settling down in front of you with his own. he held the cup with both hands as he watched you take a sip of the hot drink. “so, you were saying?” he asked. and without even realising it, a small smile took over his lips as he listened to you continue with your stories about your childhood memories associated with christmas.

(✿) —; ZHONG CHENLE. when you realised that chenle was holding an old photo album of yours, you immediately tried to snatch it from him. “oh, no. we don’t need to see this.” “yes, yes, we do,” he snickered as he teasingly tried to open the album. he plopped onto the bed and opened the first page. “you were so much cuter back then!” *gasp* “are you implying that i’m not cute now?” “maybe?” and your plans of cleaning your room for the holidays were soon irrelevant as you both spent the rest of the day laughing along while talking about your childhood days.

(✿) —; PARK JISUNG. “i just hope santa does not get sick after eating these cookies,” jisung commented as he was setting his cookies on a plate. after you put the last batch of cookies into the oven, you started helping him with the transfer, “santa is not real, sung.” hearing this, jisung let out a scandalized gasp, making you snicker in turn. “take that back!” finding his reaction amusing, you decided to tease him a little more, “and what if i tell you that all these years, it was just your pare—” jisung covered his ear as you continued, “i’m sorry i can’t hear you lalala—”

© BLUEJAEM

[oonajaeadira]

The Sentimental Defacement of Homemade Cookies

(CHRISTMAS COOKIES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (not truly “paired” in this fic, but “potential,” definitely real care between them)

Warnings: soft!Javi G. He just…ruins me. Stupid amounts of fluff and joy.

Summary: Javi is your boss, and you’re making some cookies. 

A/N: I wasn’t gonna write for Javi G until the movie came out. But then the Writer Wednesday prompt appeared and I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF BECAUSE I LOVE HIM ALREADY.

Thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​​​ and @clydesducktape​ for their amazing work prompting, organizing, and compiling Writer Wednesday!

You’re piping an eyebrow onto a gingerbread man and he goes from surprised to pissed off in an instant when you jump at Javi’s entrance behind you–

“Oh! Sunday! You are here! What are you doing in the kitchen? We have a cook if you need something made…where is…the cook…”

You can hear him spinning wildly in the huge villa kitchen as if he can’t just be satisfied with turning his head.

“It’s his day off, Mr. Gutierrez, remember? He’s going to be cooking all day tomorrow to prepare for your Christmas party so it’s better for him to take today than–”

“Are these for the party!?” He swoops in and grabs a cookie off your sheet, a snowflake, the prettiest one, the one you piped the heaviest detail on before deciding it was too much effort to do the whole batch like that and decided to save it especially for…

…the absolute look of glee on his face as he bites into it…you can’t be mad at that.

He stands there in a light colored button up, sleeves rolled up, looking very casual and comfortable, (even though you know exactly how expensive that shirt was), breezy, beautiful curls moving in the cross current between the windows of the open space.

“Mmm! This is wonderful–what is this?” He takes another bite, studying the cookie top and bottom as if it has a designer label on it, and you barely hold back a laugh as you turn back to the piping.

“It’s just a soft ginger cookie with almond icing. They’re my grandmother’s recipe. I was missing home so I thought I’d make some. And no. They’re not for the party.”

You can feel him hovering over your shoulder, no sense of personal space. It’s something you’ve gotten used to in the months of being his personal assistant, come to realize he isn’t threatening, just…earnest?

Genuine. Javi is genuine. Without pretense. Sure, he may treat you more like a friend than an assistant and you may sometimes have to be the one to remind him that you do have to get work done for him from time to time. You’ve learned that he prefers your shoulder to a tissue when he weeps (often), and that he expresses his happiest emotions by squeezing anything near him…which is frequently you (more often). But. He treats you kindly and gives you run of the house, actually listens to you when you have advice or schedules to heap on him, gives you everything you ask for without question, seemingly frustrated that you use that advantage sparingly. He wants your opinion constantly, refusing to buy an article of clothing unless you say the words “yes for God’s sake buy it if you want it, it would look good on you,” assigns you movie scripts to read so he can have somebody to discuss them with at ungodly hours of the night, and trusts you so much that he insists you be the one to pick out the selection for Sunday movie night (courtyard viewing, mandatory attendance by the entire house and staff).

At first, you thought this last detail was why he called you Sunday. But he had blinked at that assumption and explained “Like the movie. His Girl Friday. You are my Girl Friday. But Sunday is more special than Friday. It is a holy day and you are sweet like an angel. And there’s sun in it. Sunday fits better. My Girl Sunday.”

That had set you staring out over the water from the balcony, with probably the stupidest look on your gob, not sure if you felt more amused or touched. It was the first of many genuine moments when Javi would make you understand without warning or filter just how absurdly highly he valued you, and you’ve since gotten better at schooling your face.

In the warm, sunlit kitchen, he dips his own face low around your shoulder into your periphery, blatantly worried. “You are missing home? Let me send you home for Christmas.You can use my jet, my pilot. I could call him–”

You laugh, piping a perfect grin on a gingerbread man. “Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez. I am completely capable of calling on Mateo myself. I’ve arranged many flights for you, remember?”

“Do you want to go?”

The sincere concern in his voice tears your attention away from the sheet of cookies and into his pained, puppy-dog eyes.

“No, sir. Truly. I’m happy to be here. I wouldn’t miss your Christmas party for the world.” Judging by that smile, you’ve just made his entire week. He loves a good party and you know nothing would make him happier than if you were there for it. You help him turn it up a notch with a quiet smile of your own…and by taking his hand and curling it around the piping bag. “You wanna help me with these?”

Ever willing and eager, he steps up to the counter, surveying the wintery shapes in front of him, none of them native to the south of Spain, but welcome and delightful to him all the same. “What do I do?” The question is warranted, but of course he doesn’t wait for an answer and just squeezes the bag hard, giving one gingerbread man a very large, very pornographic appendage–

–and getting red icing all over his very expensive shirt in the process.

Your shriek causes him to jump. “Shit! Oh no! No! Shiiiiiit….” Immediately grabbing for a towel, you try to mitigate the damage of the red dye on the pastel silk, your hands shaking, all a fluster. 

But he collects your hands, calmly--so calmly--closing them in completely with his own, immediately doing whatever he can to put an end to your dismay. “Shhh. Shhh, Sunday, it is alright. Don’t worry about this.”

“Aw shit, I’m sorry. It’s such a nice shirt… I just…I really like it…”

“Shh. It is alright. I have two more! Do you want one?”

The unannounced laugh this pulls out of you yanks all of the panic away with it and you relax into it, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “No, sir. Thank you. I should have given you an apron. That’s on me.”

“Well, no,” he says, smiling brightly, anticipating his own joke, “It is on my shirt.” As you continue to press your lips into a straight line and shake your head through a suppressed giggle, he jostles your shoulder lightly and grins widely into your face. “You get it, huh? It is on me? Because the red is on my shirt?”

“Yes, yes okay! Stop trying to cheer me up. I’m cheered. Mercy!”

Once you’ve both exploded in laughter again and calmed down with a sigh, he looks over the carnage on the counter. It’s not too bad.

“I’m sorry that I have ruined your beautiful work. I hope these are not for anything special.”

Your sigh arrives heavily with the knowledge of what comes next, ready to surrender to a truly Christmasy moment. “They are, Mr. Gutierrez. They’re for you.”

He gasps, wide, slowly. Genuinely. Just like he does everything else. “Really??”

“Yes, sir,” you smile. “Dig in. I’d tell you to wait until the icing’s set, but it doesn’t really matter now.” You indicate the stain on his–again–very cringingly expensive shirt.

But he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t care. He’s just looking at the cookies like they’re worth ten silk shirts. A thousand shirts.

Or–you can almost hear him saying it–just one of you.

It causes your cheeks to flood with warmth.

“Can I have the one with the dick?” he whispers.

You school your face. 

“Yes, sir. You can have the one with the dick. You can have them all. Merry Christmas.”

________________

NEXT

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[linasofia]

(I hope you don't mind me sending this to you. Please use it however you'd like; a fic, head canon post, or even just a talk about how you think things would go)

It's Christmas Eve and Father Quart is running the Midnight Mass service. What happens when he finally gets home to you?

Thanks @fizzyxcustard for dropping this in my ask box. I hope you’ll like it. Merry Christmas! ❤️

The snow crunches under his weight as he walks the short distance to your little cottage. Father Quart left church in a haste after Midnight Mass and forgot to change into his heavier winter boots. The well-polished shoes he wears for church are not the best choice for slippery winter roads, but he manages to get to your front door without any misadventures. When he knocks on the door, the sound is muffled by his thick gloves but he knows you will hear it anyway. He’s expected. Longed for, even.

You open the door with a warm smile. Seeing the man who earned the key to your heart always brings joy and gratefulness to your chest. He’s your guardian light, your evening star and your heart’s compass. You, in return, are his safe haven when he doubts, his small piece of heaven, and the woman who made him realize that he has room for more than the Lord in his heart. Your secret relationship is not easy for either of you, but you have both agreed that what you share is worth the effort.

You allow Lorenzo to take off his winter coat before you throw your arms around his neck. He hugs you tightly back, and you lose yourself in his smell. The cologne he put on this morning still lingers on his skin, and you rest your nose against his neck while you give him a gentle kiss on his stubbled jaw. He cups your cheek and returns the affection, his kiss deep and sensual.

”Are you tired? I made tea if you want some.” You ask when he releases you from his embrace.

”Not really tired and I’d love to have tea with you.” Your thoughtfulness is one of the first things he noticed about you, and he appreciates your attempts to make your life together as normal as it can be. ”How are you feeling now?”

For the last couple of days your sore throat has been bothering you, but this morning you finally felt better. You chose to not attend Midnight Mass, even if you have looked forward to it for a long time, since you don’t want to risk ruining the holidays for other people by giving them a cold. Lorenzo, however, refused to stay away from you.

”I feel much better, I think it’s finally over.”

He gives you a kiss on your forehead. ”That’s the best Christmas present.” Then he looks down at your tights and oversized knitted sweater and smiles warmly. With a swift move, he pulls off his jacket. ”I’ll go and put on something else.”

You head for the kettle in the kitchen, and Lorenzo goes to your bedroom. He has his own drawer where he keeps some clothes and underwear. As you fill the mugs, you hear him pull out the drawer and go through his choices. While you’re seated on your sofa, he finally joins you, wearing grey sweatpants and a navy t-shirt. If you didn’t know, he would never be taken for a priest in this outfit. The t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders in a very flattering way and his sweatpants, well, you could probably write a poem about how well they fit him.

The tea with Christmas spices smells lovely but the steam rising from the mugs is a silent warning to be careful. You hand Lorenzo a gingerbread, and he takes it with a smirk. ”Are you feeding me cookies so I will be good to you tonight?”

You let out a short laugh. He looks playful, but you know what he means, and just the thought of him teasing every part of your sensitive body until you almost lose your senses, is enough to make your skin heat up.

”Maybe,” you wink at him as he takes a bite. You have already had a few—the baker needs to approve, right? But you take one more. It’s Christmas after all.

The open fire spreads its warm light over your living room, and you look around, pleased with how your decorations turned out. The tree with its baubles and the beautiful star at the top, the white mittens you use instead of socks and fill with green twigs. Your eyes fall on your newest addition, the small but very cute Yule goat you bought a week ago at the local market. He stands guard next to the little pile of carefully wrapped Christmas gifts. Lorenzo gently puts his arm around your shoulder and holds you close. He snuggles your hair and hums when you place your hand on his chest. Your living room breathes calmness; the only sounds are the ones coming from the open fire.

When you reach for your tea, Lorenzo lovingly strokes your back. The tea has cooled enough to be drinkable, and after you taste the first sip, you make a mental note to buy more of the wonderful blend. It’s flavored with oranges and cinnamon, and together with the gingerbread, it can’t taste more like Christmas. You wish time would stop so the two of you could stay like this forever. But all the preparations finally claim your energy, and you yawn.

”It’s getting late.” Lorenzo murmurs against your hair. ”I better eat one more cookie before I take you to bed, so I can be really good to you.” His voice holds the most delicious promise, and you know you will not fall asleep unsatisfied tonight.

❤️ If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[judeswhore]

wren’s goodies - mason mount

in which you get sick and mason helps wren make you her favourite gingerbread biscuits to make you feel better

"Can't we make it into a house? Mummy would like a house." Wren peered up at Mason from where she was standing on her stool, watching the way he searched the cupboards for some cookie cutters. He threw a glance over his shoulder at his daughter, his brows drawing together.

"Wren, baby, do you really think I'd be able to make a gingerbread house?" He finally found the little tub of different shapes and dropped it down on to the counter, popping the lid so they could both look inside. He watched Wren's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

"You can do anything." This made him smile softly and he bent to kiss her head, wiping away the little bit of sugar she'd somehow managed to get stuck to her cheek. She was leant forward so she could rifle through the tub of cutters, searching for the actual gingerbread man shape.

"As much as I love you and your faith in me, I can't make a gingerbread house. Mummy will be happy with a normal gingerbread man." Wren dropped the man shaped cutter down on to the counter and then Mason pulled out a heart shaped one. "We can make her some love heart ones as well, yeah? Any other shapes you want?" He watched her have another look in the tub before pulling a cutter out.

"Can we do a snowman?"

"A gingerbread man, a snowman and a heart. She'll love it." Mason had taken you and Wren sledging a few days ago and you unfortunately had come down with a severe winter cold and had been wrapped up in bed for the past two days. Wren hated that you were ill and wanted to do something to make you feel better and her first suggestion to her father had been that they made gingerbread biscuits. They were Wren's favourite to eat and she claimed that they'd make you feel better so while you'd been sleeping the two of them had spent the afternoon baking. The kitchen was a mess and Mason was dreading cleaning it up but if it meant Wren would stop worrying about you then he'd make the mess ten times over.

"Do I just squash it in?" Wren's brows were drawn together as she stared at Mason with a slightly puzzled expression and he nodded, stepping behind her so he could wrap his arms around her body and cover her hands with his. He settled his cheek against hers and started showing her the way to do it, mumbling in her ear that she needed to make sure she pressed down hard enough.

They made a total of three love hearts before Wren's concentration faltered and she turned to glance up at Mason, her lips turned down ever so slightly. "Is mummy gonna be okay?" Mason's own lips pouted at her words and the soft way she'd spoken them, clear worry etched into her tone.

"She's gonna be fine, baby, she just has a little cold from all the snow but your biscuits will make her feel loads better." He gently kissed her cheek, nuzzling into her skin until she gave a little giggle and lifted her shoulders up to her ears to tuck herself away from him. "One bite of Wren's famous biscuits and she'll be back to normal. So why don't we hurry up and finish them off? Then you can surprise her with them?"

Wren got straight back to cutting the shapes of the biscuits, Mason stepping back slightly so she could finish it herself and then when she'd made an array of different shapes she grinned triumphantly. "Do we put them in the oven now?"

"Have to put them on a tray first, Munchkin." He reached over for the black baking tray and a roll of baking paper to lay over the top. "We need to put them on here, okay? Can you do it or do you want me to?"

"I can do it." If there was one thing Mason had learnt about his daughter this afternoon it was that she liked to control everything in the kitchen. She refused to let Mason do all of the work, clambering up onto her little stool so she could see over the counter and could help him make the mixture.

"Be careful they don't break, yeah? You have to be really gentle with them and make sure you leave a little bit of space between each one so they don't stick together." Wren nodded and then with extra careful hands started moving the uncooked biscuits from the counter and on to the tray.

While she was doing that, her concentration face making Mason smile softly, he made sure the oven was on the right setting and that the rack was in the right place before starting to run the tap to wash up the pots. Wren was humming softly from the other side of the kitchen, an off key version of Let It Go that had him stifling his laughter with a cough.

“I’m finished, daddy.” When he peered over her shoulder he was proud to see she’d managed to put all but one successfully on to the try and had spaced them out a good amount. She looked up at him. “I broke this one’s leg.”

“It’s okay, we’ll eat that one.” He lightly ruffled her hair and took the tray from the counter to slide it into the oven, clicking the door into place as Wren jumped down from her stool and tilted her head back to peak through the glass door.

“Can we decorate them with sprinkles? Those ones that mummy always gets on her ice creams?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve got some in the cupboard. Why don’t you go wash your hands and then put some cartoons on while I clean up in here? I’ll be in when I’m done.” Wren gave a little nod of her head before heading for the kitchen door. “Quiet when you go upstairs, mummy might still be sleeping.”

It was over two hours later when you finally made your way downstairs and when he glanced over the back of the sofa at you, Mason noticed that you looked a lot brighter than you had done the past few days. Him and Wren were sitting on the floor playing Connect 4, Mason deliberately letting her win each time because he knew how much of a sore loser she could be.

“Hi, baby, feeling any better?” At the sound of his voice Wren looked up from where she’d been counting her little red pieces and grinned brightly. She scrambled up from the floor and made her way over to you, her arms wrapping around your leg as she smushed her face into your leg.

“Mummy, I’m beating daddy.”

“Are you now?” You brushed your fingers through her hair and met Mason’s gaze as he pushed himself up and made his way over.

“I was going easy on you.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over your cheek and then felt your forehead, his eyes searching your face. “Okay?”

“Better than I was, just have a bit of a stuffy nose.” You smiled softly when he leant in and kissed your head, Wren reaching up to tug on your shirt.

“I made you some biscuits to make you better again and I made them look nice for you, come and see.” She took ahold of your hand and pulled you through to the kitchen, leading you to the island that held a plate full of the biscuits she’d made. Her and Mason had spent ages decorating them, covering them with icing and then sprinkles and other treats on top. “You can choose which ones you want. We made gingerbread men and hearts and snowmen.”

Your hands settled under Wren’s armpits and then you lifted her up, holding her against your chest as you rubbed your nose gently over hers until she laughed. “You made them to make me feel better?”

“I always like them when I’m sick so daddy said we could make them. We already had one and it was really nice.” She gave your cheek a little kiss and Mason just leant against the counter, watching you both with a little smile loose on his lips.

“My thoughtful little girl.” You returned her kiss and then reached for a heart shaped biscuit covered in sprinkles and you had to give it to your husband and daughter for actually doing a good job. You took a bite and let out a soft little hum at the taste, surprised at how nice it actually was. You grinned and tapped the end of Wren’s nose as she grabbed her own biscuit, snapping the arm straight off the gingerbread man. Your gaze slid to Mason.

“If football doesn’t work out you two could open a family bakery together.” Mason hummed and moved in closer to you, his fingers skimming over your side.

“We can call it Wren’s Goodies.”

[y0itsbri]

Milk(ovich) & Cookies

Summary: A Gallagher family vacation AU with baker!Mickey

Prompt: a canon divergent first meeting of Ian and Mickey, where Mickey is the one pursuing Ian (basically gimme ALL the flirty Mickey you can muster)

For @abundanceofnots for the Gallavich Gift Exchange 2021 (@gallavichthings) 🎁

A thousand 'thank you's to my love @grumpymickmilk for the wonderful banner and all the support 💗

Words: 3.3k

"Gallaghers, line up! Everyone have their hats, coats, gloves, scarves, boots?"

The Gallagher kids stood in line in front of Fiona, frantically fumbling with each of their outfits to make sure they were appropriately bundled for the snow. Debbie held Liam's small hand while Fiona secured his hat's velcro strap under his chin. Carl kept trying to take off running towards the lodge, but Ian held a firm grip on his shoulder.

Fiona stepped back a couple paces, hands on her waist. "Alright, kids. Meet back at the room for dinner. You better come back in one piece or I will break you myself." She knelt down in front of Carl, taking his face in her hands, "And no creating weapons of mass destruction this winter vacation, got it?"

"No promises." Lip mumbled.

"Sounds good, Fi." Ian smiled, squeezing a half-promising smile out of Carl too.

"Great. Call me or Jimmy-Steve if you need anyone, but try not to need anything." She lifted Liam off the floor and settled him on her hip.

-

Debbie and Carl fucked off to god knows where to terrorize the locals. Lip was already well on his way to being plastered in the all-expenses-included lodge bar, whining to some chick about being in the off stage of his on-again-off-again relationship with Karen Jackson.

Ian, sober as ever, decided to make the most of his trip and take a stroll down Main Street. Rainbow Christmas lights were wrapped around the trunks of each tree, wreaths and metal snowflakes hung from streetlights, and each store took on their own festive identity.

He made note of an antique shop and a gift shop he wanted to visit before they left, but his heart (and stomach) was drawn to a bakery. 'Sweet Cheeks' was lit up in some retro font, an image of a chipmunk with full cheeks seemingly the mascot of the small business. Ian smiled.

Scents of cinnamon and ginger and other spices that Ian's nose wasn't able to distinguish swirled together in a delicious coziness. The warm lights from the store flooded out onto the pavement, daring him to escape the cold. He caved.

Inside the bakery, some indie music played over the speakers, a comfortable volume amongst the chatter and laughter coming from nearby tables.

"Can I help you?" A voice called from behind the counter, more amused than annoyed, as the seemingly permanent grumpy face would otherwise indicate. The guy raised an eyebrow at Ian, who was standing in the entrance like an oaf. Fuck, he was being embarrassing.

"Uh, yeah. Something smelled good when I was walking by. I want whatever that was."

As soon as it left his mouth, Ian knew that it wasn't the right thing to say.

"I mean, uh," he skimmed the menu as quickly as he could but it may have well been in a different language for all he knew. French maybe? Debbie had an 'all-things-Paris' phase a few years back, but he didn't know enough to get by.

"Cookies are on the house, man." The guy sniffed, cheeks pink from the warm lighting of the café.

Ian sighed in relief. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Ian threw a couple dollars in the tip jar and then headed out. It wasn't until he was a few stores down that he actually took a bite into the gingerbread cookie.

And fuck.

He was pretty sure it was the best damn cookie he's ever had.

-

Ian was no glutton, but he couldn't get that cookie out of his head all night. Before he went to bed, he googled 'Sweet Cheeks - Chicago' and hoped they posted their menu online.

They didn't.

-

"One iced coffee please." Ian leaned against the counter, already throwing a couple bucks into the tip jar as the same guy as before rang up his order. He was wearing a name tag upside. He tilted his head a bit to read it.

Mickey.

"You're back soon." Mickey smiled. It was a beautiful smile if Ian had ever seen one. Slightly crooked and his eyes crinkling with it, as if he was genuinely happy to see Ian.

"Couldn't stop thinking about that gingerbread cookie if we're being honest. Do you guys put crack in it or something?"

A couple patrons turned their head in shock, but Mickey laughed outright. Ian didn't think it was that funny, but he smiled anyways.

"Nah, man. Not this time."

This had Ian wondering -- Did they put crack in cookies? Was it like the same ballfield as pot in brownies? He bet Mickey would know more about it.

"What's your name, Red?"

"Uh, Ian."

"Sick, thanks, man. Coffee will be out soon."

A few moments later, Mickey had Ian's coffee out, complete with a cookie in a paper bag.

"It ain't a gingerbread, but I figured you'd still think this is cute as fuck."

Ian couldn't imagine calling a cookie cute, but when he saw what Mickey was referring to, yeah, it was cute as fuck. A sugar cookie with a penguin drawn onto it with that fancy icing.

"Thanks, Mickey." Ian shoved the cookie into his mouth in one bite as he nodded and headed towards the door.

"See ya, Red."

Ian couldn't help but wonder if Mickey's customer service was as amicable to everyone else or if he was just special. He didn't dare bring it up to Lip when he was in proper 'will-embarrass-little-brother-in-public' mode. Ian didn't need some baker thinking he was an arrogant piece of shit, even if he could be. But he still didn't need Mickey to know that. Or worse, get offended at the idea.

Yeah, it was better to stay quiet and enjoy his sweet treats.

-

Ian walked into Sweet Cheeks the next morning expecting Mickey behind the counter again, but was greeted with a dark-haired woman instead. Ian smiled when they locked eyes, but she immediately ducked into the back.

Weird.

By the time Ian made it to the counter, Mickey seemed to be arguing with the girl, but when he caught sight of Ian, his grumpy eyebrows softened and the tips of his ears almost seemed to flush.

"Uh, hey Mickey."

"Hi Ian."

The shop was pretty much empty this early in the morning. Ian had made sure to sneak out of the lodge before any of his siblings woke up. There was some drama going down and he did not want any part of that to ruin his good vibe streak.

"I'm starving. What's good to eat?"

"What? You not liking my cookies anymore?" Mickey teased. He knew damn well Ian was whipped to those sweet, sweet mounds of sugar.

Ian rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I don't think a cookie shaped like a penguin is gonna sustain me throughout the day."

"What about a polar bear?"

Ian raised an eyebrow and Mickey cocked his head to the latest cookie display. Sure enough, bears with earmuffs lined the glass.

"Cute." Ian said, and he meant it.

"I'll get you some real food too, man, don't worry."

This had to be the least professional transaction that has ever occurred, but Ian trusted Mickey's judgement at this point, the man clearly a confectionary god. He turned to start up the little stove.

"How long're ya here for?"

"Chicago? I've lived here forever. But like we're just visiting this part because my sister's boyfriend's family is apparently rich as fuck and she has some dirt on him so we're here for free for winter break."

Mickey continued staring, the corner of his lips quipping up. Ian was rambling. The classic Gallagher-overshare.

"We're here until the end of December."

"Good to know."

"Why's that?" Ian played along.

"Like seeing your face around here." Mickey shrugged as if it wasn't the nicest thing anyone has said to Ian in... awhile. God, that's sad.

"Ditto." Ian smiled.

-

Family dinners were always chaotic, but somehow, the Gallaghers managed to up the ante when they were anywhere but home. Voices overlapped until Fiona had enough. One at a time, they were to share one thing they were thankful for. A special Gallagher rendition of a late Thanksgiving, since they don't really celebrate the real thing anymore.

"I'm thankful for you guys and my new laptop." Debbie grinned.

"I'm thankful for Debbie's laptop so I can look up-- ouch! What the fuck?!"

"Carl!"

When it came to Ian's turn, he only had one thought, which admittedly had been swarming his head ever since he stepped foot into the place to begin with.

"I'm thankful for the free cookies at Sweet Cheeks down on Main."

He expected everyone to nod and move on, so he was very much not prepared for the looks of confusion from about half his party.

"Uhhhh, am I missing something?" He finally wondered aloud.

Fiona spoke up. "That the Milkovich's bakery?"

Ian shrugged. Mickey seemed vaguely eastern European so he didn't deny the possibility.

"They never have free samples. Never have, never will. Not even Liam's cute pouty face did the trick."

Weird. Oh. Oh.

Ian's head was buzzing a million miles a minute. He didn't hear Lip's speech about how all women were manipulative monsters or the following argument that ensued.

-

Ian had a plan. He stormed into Sweet Cheeks, cash in hand.

"How much do I owe you?"

Mickey was startled out of a conversation with that same girl Ian had seen before. "Huh?"

"For the cookies?"

"Really, Red? Thought we went over this. On the house?"

"Yeah, but then why just me?"

Mickey's eyes softened a bit. "Wanted you to have 'em. I like the way your face lights up. Like giving a dog a bone or some shit."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Did you want to order something or did you just come here to shove money down my pants?"

Ian wasn't thinking about shoving his money there, but now that Mickey mentioned it, he couldn't imagine anything else.

"'Ey, eyes up here." Mickey smirked. Ian gulped.

"Coffee."

"Okay, great. What's your favorite candy, Ian?"

"Reece's?"

"Sweet."

Ian pondered that a bit. He settled on, "Yeah."

-

Carl was involved in some scam gone wrong. The Gallaghers got that shit under control, they always do, but it did result in Ian being late to the bakery. Like... a lot late. The front door was locked.

"Shit."

Ian slid against the glass door until his ass hit the pavement. He liked the feeling of being a regular somewhere. Especially somewhere where he felt like he actually had a friend.

Despite the cool lodge they got to stay in, Ian felt gross about the whole situation that led them here with Jimmy-Steve's dad. And staying in the man's lodge felt even ickier. Seeing Mickey at least reminded him that there was sweetness under all of this.

But tonight he let himself get a little tipsy, and in Ian Gallagher world, tipsy meant plastered. It was a thin line to balance that he still hadn't perfected. Probably never would.

"You freezin' your ass off?"

Mickey.

Ian felt his ass. Yeah, pretty cold.

"C'mon, let's get you inside."

Ian tried to lift himself up, but somehow ended up sliding even further down the door.

Ian heard a "fuck" coming from Mickey's direction and then small but sturdy hands lifting him to his feet and leaning him against Mickey's shorter frame to keep him upright.

He hadn't remembered getting this drunk.

Mickey unlocked the front door and ordered Ian to sit in one of the corner chairs while he flicked on a couple lamps and hooked up his phone to the surround speakers, a chill song playing, making Ian feel like he was floating.

Mickey sat across from Ian. "Wanna talk about it?"

Ian was coherent enough to be embarrassed about his current state, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Not tonight."

Mickey placed a palm on Ian's thigh, and gave it a comforting squeeze once, twice. He sighed.

"Wanna help me with this new recipe? Some chump I know likes Reece's peanut butter cups and I gotta make some cookies for tomorrow."

It took a moment to process.

"I'm the chump?"

Mickey looked at him with too much fondness in his eyes. "Yeah, man. Sure are. Legs up."

"Huh?" Ian mumbled, but complied.

Mickey pushed his rolling chair to the back of the bakery and through the doors to the main kitchen.

"Woah."

Mickey smirked. "What's the matter, chump? Never seen a kitchen before?"

Ian had seen a kitchen before. But something about this being The Kitchen that created the delicious cookies he consumed everyday, The Kitchen where Mickey apparently was in charge and in his element, thinking about what Ian of all people would enjoy. It was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Mickey shoved a glass of water in his hand. "Drink this and look pretty."

Ian nodded lazily.

They chatted about mindless drama, high school horror stories, their favorite types of mac and cheese, the dog that Carl once brought home, the chronicles of Lip Gallagher and Karen Jackson.

Somewhere in the night, Ian's eyes began to linger on the way that Mickey's long-sleeve shirt clung to his waist and arms, the smudge of flour along the side of Mickey's nose and eyebrow where he had mindlessly scratched them. He was kinda really pretty.

"Staring pretty hard over there, bud. Don't wanna pull a muscle."

Ian shrugged. He was way past being embarrassed now. "Like what I see."

Mickey's cheeks grew pinker at that. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. Have for a while." Ian couldn't even blame the alcohol even if he wanted to at this point. He'd been sobering up nicely, his feelings only intensifying under the kitchen lights.

"Here," Mickey walked over, footsteps heavy against the floor. "Try this." Ian lost track of the batch number, but he couldn't wait to try. He opened his mouth for Mickey to feed him.

"Gross." Mickey grumbled.

But sure enough, Mickey placed a piece of cookie on his tongue, his thumb accidentally brushing Ian's bottom lip.

Ian chewed slowly, not breaking eye contact with Mickey the whole time.

-

Ian laid in bed that night... morning? whatever, thinking about Mickey. Mickey's kind eyes, Mickey's wit, Mickey's hands.

-

Ian smiled the whole way to the bakery, a grin playing on his face the whole time Mickey got his order ready.

Ian pulled out a cookie from the paper bag and shoved it whole in his mouth.

Huh. The ones they made last night didn't have icing. Shit, maybe he should have looked at it. Judging by the horrified expression on Mickey's face, yeah, he definitely should have looked at it.

"Was there icing on that one?" Ian asked dumbly.

Mickey paused, steadying his breath, "... Yeah."

Ian pawed around the rest of his bag. No more icing.

"Why don't the others have icing?"

Fuck.

"I was trying to be cute, but I forgot that you eat like a fucking stray dog."

Ian pouted.

"Stray dogs can be cute, man, I'm not denying that. But you just scarfed down my beautiful creation without a second thought. Nah, you don't deserve to know what it said."

"Oh c'mon Mickey," Ian whined. He had the puppy face down. He knew he did. It would only take Mickey a few seconds to cave.

He didn't.

-

"Lip, there's something seriously wrong with this guy!"

Lip took a drag on the cigarette they were sharing outside of the lodge. "Remind me again why you like him?"

Ian kicked Lip's shin. "It's serious, dude. The puppy eyes didn't work!"

Lip gasped in mock-horror. "Oh no! Someone alert the authorities! Maybe Ian Gallagher isn't as cute as he thought he was!"

"Oh, fuck you too, asshole." Ian made grabby fingers for the cigarette and Lip complied.

Ian leaned his head against the wall.

"Down bad, huh?"

"You could say that again."

"Have you like, I dunno, made a move yet?"

Ian considered. "What if he doesn't feel that way about me?"

Lip took the cigarette back and brought it to his lips. "Then we drink, brother."

-

Ian had gotten closer with the other baker at Sweet Cheeks over the last few weeks. He'd learned that her name was Mandy and that she was Mickey's little sister. If he couldn't guess it from the way that they looked nearly identical, then he could by the banter between them that could only be acceptable between siblings.

One afternoon, Ian was on babysitting duty, so he brought Liam and Debbie into Sweet Cheeks, planning to order them both a slice of pie. Mickey wasn't working, so Ian knew not to expect free cookies. Instead, Mandy greeted them at the counter, a beaming smile across her face.

"Hi Ian and friends!"

Debbie's eyes widened in awe. Unbeknownst to Ian, his little sister was having her queer awakening all thanks to the magnificent Mandy Milkovich.

"Hey Mandy! I have a favor."

Ian ushered his siblings to his favorite booth in the corner while he conspired with Mandy.

-

It was almost closing time at the bakery, which meant that Mickey would be in soon to prep the next day's batch of special cookies.

But Ian had a surprise of his own.

"'ey Gallagher, what're you doing here?" Mickey smirked, pleased with the way that he apparently had Ian wrapped around his fingers.

"Got something for ya."

Mickey frowned. "It ain't Christmas yet, right? Because I don't do that shit."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Nope, something better." Ian immediately regretted his choice in words, hoping he wasn't about to make a giant fool out of himself. He didn't know what he would do if he could never show his face in Sweet Cheeks again for the rest of his vacation. The cookies had a goddamn grip on him. And Mickey, too, of course. He was a close second.

Ian dragged Mickey through the bakery back to the kitchen, ignoring Mandy's knowing gaze and the blood that rushed to his cheeks and neck in response. Focus, Gallagher.

"I, uh, made you something."

Mickey's eyebrow did the cute quirk thing that Ian had grown to love and appreciate over the last few weeks.

"You did, huh?" Mickey sneakily peeked around behind Ian's shoulder, trying to see what all the fuss was about.

"Mhm." Ian's nerves were building. "Here." He handed Mickey a piece of paper and stepped aside to reveal two basic chocolate chip cookies with icing messily scribbling out 'yes' on one and 'no' on the other.

Mickey unfolded the paper, a smile growing on his face. He stood in front of the cookies, staring back at Ian like the goddamn tease he knew he was before picking up the cookie that said 'yes' and taking a bite.

His face scrunched up adorably but he managed to swallow.

Ian snuck up into his space. "For real?"

"Yes, Ian, of course I fuckin' like you."

"Oh."

"Oh." Mickey teased back. He placed a hand on Ian's hip. "Ya know, if anyone else was messing around in my kitchen behind my back, they'd be a smear on the pavement by now."

Ian could admire Mickey's ability to really paint a picture with words.

"Why do I get a pass?"

Mickey took a step closer, breath warm against Ian's neck before he felt soft lips pressing into his skin along with a stuttered breath coming from his throat.

"Does that answer your question, chump?"

Ian smiled, "Message a little unclear. Might wanna try again?"

"Mmm, dork." Mickey smiled into the kiss.

-

Bonus headcanon!

Once they're dating, Ian will post pictures of Mickey's sweet treats on his Instagram stories with dumbass captions like "Mmm the cookies aren't the only things I'm tasting tonight," and then Mickey makes him delete that shit and repost with a more acceptable comment. He's a businessman, Ian, put some respect on the name 😤🙄

-

Note: The name 'Sweet Cheeks' was an ode to how Mickey looks like a chipmunk when he drinks mixed with Fiona's nickname for Ian (sweet face) <3

Oh! Also important to note! The cookie that Ian ate without reading had Mickey's phone number on it written in icing </3 Poor boy was trying to make a move himself and it just did. not. land. sdhfkdsfsfsj Mandy gave him a hard time over that one.