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bittermuire · 3 years ago

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a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

#nezriel #nesta x azriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger

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moonstonediaz · 3 years ago

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The Great Buck Bake Off

For day 1 of 9-1-1 Halloweek. Day 1: Candy

word count: 1.8k

read it on ao3

Eddie wouldn't be surprised if this is how he finally has a breakdown; standing in the baking aisle of the grocery store at 10pm, after a 24-hour shift, torn between a bag of whole pecans or a bag of chopped pecans because Buck didn’t specify.

He wasn’t sure exactly what happened at home to cause Buck to call him in a panic just as he climbed into his truck, tired and anxious and ready to be home. But the pecans were an emergency and Buck sounded so frantic, Eddie couldn’t say no.

Eddie snatches up the bag of whole pecans, figuring he can just chop them if needed, and checks out quickly. Once back on the road, he begins to worry about the state of things at home.

Buck had graciously volunteered to bring the candy to Christopher’s class Halloween party tomorrow. But, no, he couldn’t just buy the candy from the store. “That’s what lazy people do, Eddie,” Buck had told him when he asked. “That’s what uncommitted people do and I’m not letting Sherri freaking Sanchez sneer at me again. Not after last time.”

This referred to the time when Eddie signed up to bring cupcakes for Valentine’s Day, insisting to Buck that store-bought was fine. But when Buck had shown up to the school with the little plastic container of grocery store cupcakes, he hadn’t been prepared for the scoffs and upturned noses from nearly all the parents in attendance who brought homemade baked goods.

Eddie remembers the haunted look in Buck’s eyes, “You weren’t there, Eddie. You don’t know.” He figured it was only a matter of time before Buck turned their kitchen into a replica of the set of The Great British Bake Off. It was an obsession Buck had developed during quarantine that had done nothing but grow in the time since then. Now, Eddie isn’t even allowed to bring so much as a boxed cake mix into the house.

So, yeah, Eddie’s a bit nervous about the state of his boyfriend and his kitchen.

After checking in to be sure Christopher is sound asleep in his bedroom, Eddie braces himself and gently pushes the kitchen door open. He lets out a surprised gasp.

Neatly covering nearly every available counter space is the finished product of candy corn-striped fudge, Halloween chocolate bark swirled with purples and greens and little candy eyeballs, marshmallows on sticks dipped in chocolate and hand-decorated to look like zombies, and a tray of what looks like un-dipped Oreo balls.

“Buck,” Eddie gasps in wonder, taking in the scene before him. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“Don’t,” Buck warns. “Just please tell me you got the pecans.”

Buck is standing near the Oreo balls, aggressively stirring the bowl of chocolate he has pressed against his sternum. He has different colored chocolate smeared on his face and arms, his orange sweater is dusted with powdered sugar, and his eyes are wild, staring vacantly at the counter.

Eddie finally moves from where he stood frozen in the doorway. He places the bag of pecans on a spare corner of the counter, careful not to knock over any of Buck’s creations.

“Yeah, I got them. Is that what’s burning?” Eddie’s gaze falls on the stove where a sheet pan of charred pecans sits waiting for its fateful trip to the trash.

Buck nods but doesn’t stop his zoned-out staring or abrasive stirring.

“Buck, I think you’ve done plenty. You’re assaulting the chocolate.” He moves behind Buck and tries to gently take the bowl away from him. Tries being the operative word.

“Just…here–” Eddie tries prying the bowl away, but Buck only grips it harder. “Buck, let it go.”

Buck grunts and tries to move away, but Eddie presses up against his back and wraps an arm across his stomach, making him pinned between Eddie and the counter.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs low in Buck’s ear. “Give me the chocolate.”

Buck sucks in a breath and stops stirring, his grip around the bowl going slack. Eddie gently takes the bowl away and puts it next to the sink. He turns Buck around and rests his hands on his waist.

“Talk to me,” Eddie says, stroking his thumbs against the soft fabric Buck’s sweater.

“It all happened so fast,” Buck stares over Eddie’s head with a troubled look in his eyes.

“The pecans?”

Buck’s eyes are wide when he finally looks down at Eddie. “It’s like milk on a stove, Eddie; you can’t walk away or disaster strikes. Don’t even look in that pot. I’m pretty sure I burned the sugar too.”

Eddie laughs softly. “How long have you been in here making candy?”

“Hours,” Buck whispers, looking over Eddie’s head again. “The pralines…they broke me.”

Eddie chuckles and cups Buck’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You did all this and you still wanted to attempt pralines?”

Buck runs his hands up Eddie’s arms until his fingers wrap around his wrists. “They’re straight sugar, Eddie. They’re gonna be a massive hit!”

“Hmm,” Eddie runs his thumbs along Buck’s cheekbones while he contemplates before finally deciding to drop the bomb. “Doesn’t Sherri’s kid have a nut allergy?”

Buck freezes before closing his eyes and nearly sinking to the floor. “Oh…my god.”

Eddie laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Forget the pralines, okay? Look at all this!” Eddie turns him around again so he can see his hard work. “This is amazing, Buck. But, uh…you do know there’s only like fifteen kids in his class, right?”

“Yeah, I’m making little treat bags for all of his teachers, too.”

Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. He can’t believe this selfless man is all his. He fights the lump forming in his throat to ask, “Did Chris even get to see all the hard work you’ve been doing for him?”

Buck takes a moment to take in all of the treats he’s put nearly an entire day's work into. All while keeping a relatively clean kitchen, save for the few bowls in the sink and the full dishwasher that needs to be unloaded.

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise. He’ll get to see it all tomorrow, though.”

“Without pralines,” Eddie states, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle.

Buck sighs and leans back into Eddie. “Without pralines,” he agrees.

“You’re incredible,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the space just behind his ear. He feels the tension in Buck’s muscles start to melt away. They stay like that for a few moments until he feels Buck beginning to sway on his feet.

“Alright, Paul Hollywood,” Eddie gives Buck’s tummy a small squeeze, “let’s call it a day and get this cleaned up.”

“Okay, first of all,” Buck turns and points an accusing finger at Eddie, “if I’m anyone, it’s Prue. And second…the Oreo balls—”

“I will dip them in the chocolate, okay? You start on”—Eddie waves vaguely at the different treats sitting out that should probably be put in containers—“that.”

Eddie turns to grab the bowl of chocolate, but Buck pulls him back by the elbow.

“Eddie,” Buck says, his voice playful but hard, “don’t even think about it.”

Buck snatches the chocolate from Eddie—who raises his hands up in defeat—and gives it an experimental stir. Deeming it too cool, he turns and pops it into the microwave.

“Okay, then I’ll just start on the dishes,” Eddie moves to the sink, but Buck stops him again with another hand on his elbow. Eddie gives him an exasperated look. “Come on, at least let me help you clean.”

Buck pulls Eddie in by the waist and gently presses his lips to the crease between Eddie’s eyebrows. “I don’t want your help.” He places a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose. “I want you to go sit down and relax.” Another kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, that thing you do after working twenty-four hours straight and stopping at the store on the way home to get me emergency pecans that I can’t even use now?”

Eddie hums and leans into Buck, pushing him into the counter. “It’s okay. You can say it. You just want me out of your kitchen.”

“Only because neither of us would get anything done if you stayed.” Buck threads his fingers into Eddie’s hair and slots their lips together, kissing him quick and dirty before moving away to the beeping microwave.

“Tease,” Eddie grumbles, moving to the side so Buck can begin his work dipping the Oreo balls.

Buck lightly bumps his hip into Eddie’s. “Get out of here and go relax, please. You’re distracting me.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighs, taking the spoon from Buck and lifting out a bit of the melted chocolate. Watching Buck through his lashes, he lets it fall back into the bowl in velvety ribbons. “Think there’ll be any of this left over?”

Warm desire fills Buck’s eyes at the implication and he finds himself nodding earnestly.

“Good.” Eddie drops the spoon back into the bowl and turns to leave, stopping at the door. “Uh…make sure it’s still warm when you come to bed.”

Eddie throws a wink in Buck’s direction and manages to catch a glimpse of the heat rising to his cheeks just before disappearing down the hall.

Buck ended up using some of the pecans in a batch of pancakes the next morning, much to Christopher’s delight. The pair of them are chatting away when Eddie walks into the kitchen in search of coffee.

“Dad! Did you see what Buck made?” Chris points at the four bakery boxes full of the treats for his class, as well as the basket full of the teacher’s treats neatly wrapped in cellophane baggies.

“I sure did.” Eddie ruffles his curls as he walks by. “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, they’re awesome! Buck said we can try making some pralines this weekend.”

“Oh, did he?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Buck who hands him a steaming mug.

“For fun this time,” Buck clarifies.

Eddie nods, his mouth turning down in an unconvinced frown. “Ah, we’ll see.”

“Ew, you still have chocolate on your neck, Buck!” Christopher points and laughs.

Buck’s hand comes up and feels the dried bit of chocolate that was, um, not from baking the previous night. Eddie meets his wide-eyed stare and clears his throat loudly, hoping Chris doesn’t notice the blush creeping up both of their necks.

Eddie hides his smirk behind his coffee cup. “Finish your breakfast, buddy. We gotta leave for school soon.”

Eddie rides with them to the school against Buck’s complaints about him needing his rest. He feels dead on his feet, but it was worth it in the end just to see the look on Sherri’s face when Buck finished setting out his spread. Buck rightfully puffs with pride for the rest of the day.

Eddie has a feeling he’s in for a lot more episodes of The Great Buck Bake Off.

#posting again this way for #911hw2021 #911 #911 fox #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie #buddie fic #mine

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

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Frozen Rainbows: A JJK Fic

synopsis: mystery ice cream? Don’t mind if they do! featuring Yuji, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna with a gn!reader.

wc: 1.1k

tw: none!

A/n: thank you to @shesthegiggleatthefuneral for requesting this prompt! This is my first time branching out of Geto territory, so hopefully it’s good enough for all of the character’s personalities! Enjoy!

Yuji

“Y/n! Y/n!” The way Yuji chants your name, you know something has caught his attention in the massive shopping center. You turn to him with a small smile, secretly hoping it wasn’t another “as seen on TV” contraption that did absolutely nothing except take up space. “It’s mystery flavored ice cream!” Without asking, Yuji pulls you by the wrist into the pastel-colored shop, then proceeds to push his face against the glass protecting the rainbow assorted delicacies.

“Whoa…” You glance down at the perfect circles, and notice there are no labels indicating what the flavors are. The lady behind the counter smiles widely at you both and readies an ice cream cone.

“Hello! Would you like to choose a color?”

“Red!” Yuji shouts instantly.

“And you, ma’am?”

“Blue, please.”

You pay for your ice cream and leave, taking a lick of the frozen treat cautiously.

“Oh!” Yuji looks at his ice cream in surprise, then takes another bite. “It’s… uh… it’s…” His face constricts before he takes one more lick, then stammers, “Y/n, w-what flavor is this?” You turn around, but instead of taking a lick of the ice cream in his hand, he plants his lips right on yours. You taste hints of mint and chocolate chip on your tongue, which mixes quite well with the vanilla flavor of your ice cream.

“It’s mint chocolate chip,” you whisper as Yuji pulls away, your face flushing with heat.

“Never had that before…” he mentions, scratching his head and promptly dropping the cone on the tile floor. You both stare at the red mess melting away, and Yuji laughs nervously, mumbling: “Can… can we get another one?”

Nanami

“Are you ready for dessert?”

You set your fork down on your plate, stuffed almost to the brim with chicken and sauteed spinach and cherry tomatoes. When Nanami sets the yellow ice cream in front of you, there’s a moment of pause before you look up at him in confusion, his facial expression calm behind his glasses.

“What’s this?”

“One of the first years told me about this place that sells mystery flavored ice cream. Each color is a different flavor, and they change them every week. Try it.” Nanami produces his own ice cream from the fridge, this one colored green. You carefully spoon a bit into your mouth while he does the same, the strawberry flavor blossoming on your tongue.

“Mmm…”

You eat it eagerly, but it isn’t until you’re washing dishes that you find out what flavor Nanami bought. As he places a plate into the sink, you look over your shoulder, and he kisses you long and hard, tongue swirling around your mouth.

“Ah, strawberry,” he murmurs while pulling away.

“You like chocolate?” He’d never confessed his favorite flavor to you before, but you assumed it would be something plain like vanilla or coffee.

Nanami’s hearty laugh doesn’t shock you as much as it elates you, and he tosses his head back, the tinkling sound echoing around the large kitchen.

Sukuna

You had begged to try his ice cream.

The orange and indigo mix looked absolutely heavenly, but Ryomen Sukuna was not one to allow you to have anything special, especially since you embarrassed him last night with your obscene noises that awoke the neighbors. He would have it all, and you would watch him like a good little pet.

So as he lounges on the couch, arm tucked under his head as a cushion while he naps, you devise a plan:

It hasn’t been long since he forced you to watch him eat the multicolored treat, and you had the option to be stealthy to get your way. Besides, if you couldn’t get what you wanted, you would take what you wanted. Sukuna had taught you that lesson a long time ago. Wasn’t it time to show him what you learned?

He’s completely unaware of you as you slide in next to the cushion of the couch, facing him almost head-on. You brace yourself for impact, simultaneously psyching yourself up and calming yourself down enough to not breathe too heavily. When a second has passed and Sukuna hasn’t budged, you take your chance, crashing your lips against his parted ones.

You get a very brief taste of butter pecan and sea salt caramel before the King of Curses grabs your face in one hand, red eyes snapping open instantly.

“Didn’t I tell you bad pets don’t get treats?”

Geto

“Six colors and one spoon?”

“Indulge me; I thought it would be fun since we’re stuck inside for now.” You look over the offerings of multicolored sherbert and raise a brow. “A little game, if you will.”

“Do I guess the flavor before tasting?” you wonder, eyes roaming over the offerings.

“Yep.”

“Alright, and what do I get if I win?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest. Geto chuckles, head dipping low to hide his wide smile.

“I suppose you’ll get to eat the rest of it then,” he laughs, and you take the spoon and dip into the red one first.

“This has to be strawberry.” When the spoon hits your tongue, you taste cold metal before the tang of raspberry blooms across your taste buds. You frown, then dip into the red offering again, unsure. “Okay, I was wrong…” you murmur back and Geto retracts the red cup.

“Raspberry.” Geto announces, then pushes the orange ice cream to you. “Try it.”

“I mean, is it orange or citrus flavored?” The spoon graces your tongue again, depositing the rich chocolate flavor in your mouth. “Chocolate?” you exclaim, and Geto laughs, taking the second cup back, pushing the yellow one in front of you.

“Okay, what’s this one?”

“It’s… um…” What is the most outlandish flavor you would expect? “How about mint?” Geto shrugs and you take a large chunk of the frozen treat on your spoon, hesitant to taste it. When you taste the minty flavor, you pump your fist excitedly.

“That’s one down, four more to go.”

Green turned out to be vanilla, even though you guessed Matcha tea, and blue ended up being coffee instead of caramel.

“One more,” Geto leans over the counter, watching you scarf down purple, which you accurately guessed would be strawberry. When you look around for the final cup, the counter is empty.

“Where’s the last one?”

“You have to guess before you taste.”

“Banana!”

“Are you sure?” Geto’s eyebrows raise a tad, and you swallow hard.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” With a quick motion, Geto angles your head to press a kiss to your lips, When you open your mouth a little so he can swipe his tongue across yours, you taste his favorite flavor.

“It’s coconut,” you giggle, and Geto pulls you in for another deep kiss.

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk sukuna #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk yuji #yuji itadori #ryomen sukuna #geto suguru #I didn't include gojo because he would never make it back with the ice cream #you would have nothing #and he would eat a mint just to cover it up

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wannabeelf · 3 years ago

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It is now once again time for our occasional series that I can’t find the other two episodes* of anymore: Cooking With Elfy!

Today we’re making cupcakes! We’re using this box mix because we don’t feel like making them from scratch and this particular mix is delicious anyway.

We start by mixing up the batter using the instructions on the box. Then we divide it as evenly as possible into the muffin pans we already lined this morning while waiting for our tea to steep.

Slide those into the oven one at a time and while they’re baking we’ll work on the frosting. We’re going to be making lemon buttercream frosting from that recipe we used when we ran out of store-bought frosting the last time we used this cake mix.

Since we’re planing to pipe the frosting onto the cupcakes, let’s try to make a double batch of frosting just to make sure we have enough. But we might not have enough sugar for that, so measure it out first.

Turns out we don’t have enough sugar to double the recipe, so let’s do 1.5 times instead. The next step is to zest and juice our lemon.

Our lemon made the exact amount of zest we needed, but didn’t yield enough juice. So we’ll make up the difference with store bought lemon juice.

Now we just follow the frosting recipe right up to the point where it talks about food coloring. We want to use three colors instead of one, so we divide the frosting as evenly as possible into three bowls.

Then we mix in the food coloring. Unfortunately it looks like we’re out of red, so we’ll have to use green instead.

Now we cover the frosting bowls and set them aside. Our cupcakes are out of the oven by now, but they need to cool. So for now we should clean up as much of our mess as possible and take a lunch break.

After our lunch break, we load the frosting into the special piping bags for that fancy tri-color swirl gadget we bought a couple years ago and have never been able to use.

It turns out that either our frosting is too thick or the triple bag arrangement is just too wide for our small hands to squeeze properly, so we have to give up on piping and spread the frosting with a knife. This means we made way too much frosting. Fuck.

But our red, green and blue cupcakes look cute anyway, so it’s fine. Now we bring out our secret ingredients.

Raspberries and blueberries! Let’s stick them on our cupcakes.

And we’re done!

*Pumpkin pecan bread and pasta salad. Good luck.

#cooking with elfy #cupcakes #backing

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

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Imagine:

The reader is nervous to tell Erik that she is attracted to women too and when he finds out he teachers her how to pick up women and eventually he lets her find one for a threesome.

That was a long explanation LOL.

Black women are art.

They come in all shapes and sizes.

All different textures of hair and tones of skin.

Y/N was a lover of women...literally.

She didn’t come to terms with that until she was about a year into her relationship with Erik Stevens. They were friends turned lovers. The day Y/N came to the realization was during one of Erik’s nude photo sessions. He was a very popular artist and photographer in LA. Y/N would always stop by Erik’s studio while he was working to admire her man’s work in action.

This particular day was a rainy day and a client had begged Erik to photograph her nude. It was late in the evening as well. When she walked in, Y/N’s heart stopped. She had to catch her breath. The woman was a walking flame. Tall, long thick legs, copious amount of cleavage and a whole lot of ass to match. Her pecan colored skin glistened from the rain and her short curly hair lay pressed against her scalp in pretty chocolate swirls.

Y/N could feel herself squirming in the faux fur lounge chair in Erik’s studio that he bought just for her. She could even see her man checking that woman out. Y/N wasn’t jealous or envious. She was looking without shame herself and the voice inside her head kept whispering take off your clothes, and she’s so fucking sexy...I wonder what she tastes like.

The minute the woman’s amber-colored eyes landed on hers, Y/N was in a half-conscious state. They had a little staring contest for at least a minute while Erik set up. The woman licked her lips, allowing her eyes to study all of Y/N. Y/N found herself blushing at that, unable to stare at the goddess any longer.

“Erik, who is your beautiful guest?” Her silvery voice made Y/N swallow spit nervously.

“Oh, that’s my baby girl, Y/N.” Erik looks over at Y/N giving her a wink. She returned it before giggling.

“Really? I’m jealous.”

She walks over to Y/N, reaching out her hand to greet her.

“Hi, I’m Raven.”

“Y-Y/N,” her soft slender hand was warm and slightly wet from the rain. Y/N wanted to lick the rain from Raven’s fingers.

“Such a pretty name...and such a pretty girl.”

“Raven....” Erik says playfully, “Are you hitting on my chick?”

“Maybe, is that a problem?” She sassed Erik.

“Nah, no problem, I understand. But she’s mines, Ray,” Erik looked over at them both with a lopsided grin, “Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” Y/N spoke in a breathy tone.

“She doesn’t look so convinced, Erik,” Raven leans in close to Y/N to whisper in her ear, “It’s okay, does he know?”

Y/N shys away, lowering her head to her lap.

“I see...” Raven gave Y/N a somber look before stroking her cheek with her pointer finger, standing straight and sauntering away with a switch of her hips that Y/N couldn’t help but admire.

That’s when she realized that she was really really into women. She came to terms with being bisexual and to stop denying it. The only thing is...how does she tell Erik?

—————————————

“Erik...we need to talk.”

Y/N wanted to have the “big talk” about her newfound sexuality with her boyfriend. Erik was in his darkroom developing polaroids. The red hue of the lights looked enticing against his almond skin. She’d been avoiding this with him for about a month since the last encounter. Now, it was eating away at her and she needed to get it off her chest before she exploded.

“Uh-oh...did I do something wrong?” He puts on a faux worried tone.

“No, babe. But...maybe I did.” She fiddled with her fingers while standing across from him. Erik’s eyebrows creased, stopping his motions all together to look at her.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you?” He steps around the table that held all of his developing equipment, “I already know something is bothering you I just didn’t wanna put you on the spot. I wanted you to come to me about it when you were ready.”

“I’m ready now,” she looks off to the side, “I think...”

“Don’t push it,” Erik reassures her before planting a kiss to her forehead over her curly bang, “It’s no rush, love.” He gave her one final smile before turning to walk away.

“ I’m bisexual, Erik.”

She clamped both her hands over her mouth.

Erik stopped in his tracks, his broad muscular back flexed as he turned to face her again. He was looking at her with a neutral expression, much to her worry. Y/N closed her eyes, bringing her hands up to wrap around her body. She needed something to do to calm her nerves so she paced back and forth in the darkroom.

“I-I’ve always known...no, I’ve confused it with just admiration but...but that day...in the art studio...Raven, you remember Raven, right?...yeah, Raven...”

She kicked the carpeted ground, her eyes staring down at the floor. Erik didn’t say anything. He just stood there with his arms folded across his chest, staring at her. His stares could be so mysterious. She didn’t know what he was thinking.

“So, apparently she had me figured out,” Y/N laughs with a shaky breath, “I was so turned on by her. It’s like it hit me full force.”

Y/N chanced a look at Erik, instantly looking away when she connected with his russet eyes. They looked almost black in that room.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell you about this. We’ve known each other for years.” She stroked her hair back only for it to fall into her eyes again.

It was quiet. Y/N fiddled with Erik’s camera to calm herself and hopefully avoid crying. Erik’s body finally relaxed as he walked up to her and squeezing in front of her. He grabs the camera, taking his hands to pick Y/N’s small body up and plant her on top of his work table. She looked off to the side again, but Erik takes his hand to grab her chin gently, making her look at him. He could feel her shaking against him.

“Baby girl...breathe.”

She inhaled in and exhaled out.

“Good girl,” He strokes her chin with his thumb, “Why did you keep this away from me for a month?”

“Because I thought you’d be mad. I thought you’d think I was dishonest.” She spoke with a little voice.

“Baby,” Erik strokes her bangs back from her eyes, “You can’t just assume shit like that. You don’t know how I feel unless you ask. What I say about this shit when we first started dating? We keep it at 100. No matter what, remember?”

“Yes, but,”

“Shhhh,” he placed a finger on her heart-shaped lips, “No buts. You keep it real with me.”

Erik steps back a little to lean into the table with his arms braced on both sides of her body. Y/N’s legs swing and her eyes stare down at her lap. Erik once again lifts her chin, Y/N noticing a lazy smirk on his face.

“So, my girl likes girls?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Yes, Erik. I could have sworn I just admitted that” she spoke sarcastically.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“...yes...” she nods her head slowly.

“When?”

“Uhh...Best friend lingerie party.”

Erik raised his brows, “you gonna tell me how that went?”

Y/N laughs, “uhh...it was a drunken kiss, nothing special...but it made me feel tingly. It happened so fast. She told me she’d wanted to do that all night because she liked my lingerie.” Y/N giggles, covering her face.

“I bet you looked really sexy in that lingerie,” Erik smiles with deep dimples, “Did a girl ever touch you?” His voice got lower.

“No, but I’ve thought about it, a lot.”

“Hmm,” Erik looked down at her swinging legs, “I’m sure you can probably guess that I have no problem what so ever with this.”

“Yeah, it makes me feel better.”

“Like no problem. It’s actually making my dick hard as fuck right now.”

Y/N looked into his eyes, taking her hand to place over his crotch. Sure enough, she could feel his length and thickness at full capacity. Erik grabs that hand, placing it inside of his grey sweats so that she could feel him better. Y/N parts her lips before licking her bottom lip slowly.

“I’m just picturing my girl eating some pussy.”

She was picturing that now too.

“And fucking some fine bitches pussy with all those sex toys you got,” He went to whisper in her ear, “rubbing clits together and cumming all over each other...”

“Stop,” she spoke in a weak tone.

“Sucking and licking on a bitch hard nipples,” Erik’s hand was making its way inside of her pajama shorts, “I just wanna watch, baby girl.”

“You can join too,” she spoke softly, opening her legs for his access.

“Oh, yeah? You want me to fuck you and another bitch?”

“Yesss,” she was grinding her hips into his hand. Erik was rubbing circles around her clit.

“You don’t know what you just started, baby girl,” Erik rips her shorts off at the crotch. She took in a sharp breath watching her man roughly pull her legs apart, lowering himself to the ground to eat her pussy. All she could see was his dark head of dreads moving back and forth between her legs. The red hue light above swung back and forth from Y/N accidentally hitting it. He was showing her just how much he loved that she was bisexual and that he didn’t care about that shit he loved her either way. Erik parts her legs further by using the back of his hands to lift her feet on the table. Her toes curled and her hand rested on the back of his head, guiding him as he sucked on her clit. She stared down at him open-mouthed and unable to make a sound.

Y/N’s eyes would shut tightly. She could feel her pussy convulse on Erik’s lips and tongue. He looked up at her with his almost black eyes, that pink tongue appearing red in the darkroom. She creased her brows, small notes of a whimper trying to escape her voice box but there was no use. Erik was rendering her speechless over and over again. Her juices mixed with his saliva was dripping from the table to the floor. She fell back against the table, resting her body over the many polaroids that Erik developed. Wherever she went he followed because Y/N had such a tight hold on his dreads with her fingers. Next thing she knew, Erik places his whole mouth over her pussy, slurping her up something serious. She bit down on her lip, thighs shaking but Erik held the meaty flesh back for better access.

Y/N lifts onto her elbows, finally a soft moan flowing from her mouth. Erik hums into her pussy. He knew that she was close, he could tell by the way she convulsed on his tongue and in between his lips. She wanted to scream, and Erik was going to pull it out of her. He starts tongue kissing her clit with his slippery wet tongue, directly over her trigger point.

“Daddy, Yes!” She spoke softly between moans, “Daddy, yes, please, I’m gonna cum for you!”

Y/N’s body trembled as she came undone on his tongue. Erik didn’t stop, he was so hungry and horny for this girl. She was letting out choked up moans because he kept going.

“Scream,” He spoke into her pussy between licks and sucks.

She screams.

—————————-

Y/N sat on Erik’s lap in a local bar that a friend of his from childhood owned. They were having a great time hanging out with mutual friends playing pool and taking shots. It was Erik’s round to shoot pool with one of his homeboys so Y/N got up from his lap to follow him to the table. Erik grabs the chalk from his friend to chalk the end of the pool stick. Y/N and Erik were on teams of course. He taught her the game even though she still struggled from time to time.

“You’re gonna rack the 8-ball game, Erik?” Their close friend, Tony asks. Tony and Erik were in the Naval Academy together.

“Yeah, I can do it.” Erik starts racking the balls.

The game was very short between Tony and Erik. Erik was close to winning but Tony got him good in the end. He was rather pissed off about that but Y/N kissing him settled his sour mood. Just when their lips parted, a girl caught Y/N’s eye in her peripheral. Short, 4C curly bush, a black wrap top on that allowed her perky cleavage to spill over and tight stretch pants that cinched her plump waistline and exaggerated her big behind. She had a lot to show and wasn’t afraid to do it either. She looked like a 1970s disco goddess.

“Who is that?” Y/N asked, noticing her talking to Tony and a few other people they both knew.

“Oh, that’s Dashawn.” Y/N looked at him to elaborate.

“She’s Tony’s sister's ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Y/N looked over at Dashawn. She perched her round ass on the edge of the pool table. All the men gawked at the weight she was carrying on her back. Y/N could see the dimples in her ass through her pants.

“See something you like, Princess?”

Erik caught her staring. Y/N gave him a shy smile.

“Yes, she’s very pretty.”

“C’mon,” Erik gave her a look as if to say really.

“Okay...she’s fucking sexy.”

“There you go,” Erik wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, “you wanna spit some game?”

“What?” She looked up at Erik with a staggering expression.

“You heard what the fuck I said don’t act like you didn’t,” Erik says with a burst of laughter.

“You just want me to...go up to her and try and talk to her?”

“It’s an art to this shit baby girl,” Erik pulls Y/N away from the pool table and back to their seat. She took her usual spot on his lap, giving him her undivided attention.

“First off, it's all about the eyes. see,” Erik gives her a look but it was the usual look that would make Y/N cave every time. He would always make his eyes really low and sultry, focusing on you with an unblinking and lustful expression. She was already squirming in his lap.

“See, like that. I got your attention and all I did was look at you.”

“You’re so good at that. I’d probably end up being all shy.”

“Just give it a try, go give Dashawn a look.”

Y/N was hesitant.

“Baby, it's okay,” Erik rubs her back soothingly, “I’m okay with it. I really wanna see you pick up other women. It’s sexy”

“And it turns you on,” Y/N added.

“Yeah, it does,” Erik makes his dick jump against Y/N’s ass.

“Go show Daddy how you do it,” he whispers.

Y/N got up from Erik’s lap, Erik slapping her ass. Y/N was smoothing down her velour mini skirt before walking over towards Dashawn’s direction. She was currently watching another pool game, a drink in her hand that had a blue color; Y/N guessed it was probably Hypnotiq.

“I wanna go next round, who’s gonna play with me?”

“I will.” Y/N spoke up.

Dashawn noticed Y/N leaning over the edge of the pool table, her velour cropped hoodie zipped down low enough to show her large breasts. She gave her best “Erik stare” hoping that it was working. Erik always said that Y/N’s Chestnut deep-set eyes were his favorite. Slowly but surely, a smile crept up Dashawn’s downturned lips that were painted a matte brown. Y/N allowed her eyes to travel up and down Dashawn’s body quickly before she sat up straighter with a bounce of her tits in a flirty manner. Dashawn liked that, her eyes were round and prominent now.

“Sure,” Dashawn’s kinky fro bounced as she nodded her head, “what’s your name?” She had a light voice. Her voice definitely didn’t match the way she looked. It was so adorable.

“It’s Y/N,” She reached across the pool table. Dashawn practically bumped into Tony reaching out for Y/N’s hand. Her walnut-colored skin clashed beautifully against Y/N’s honey brown skin. Y/N shook it slow, still holding that same gaze just to reel Dashawn in further before letting her hand go while allowing her fingers to feather the inside of her palm. She could see Dashawn’s shoulders jump from that.

“Did you come alone?” Dashawn asked.

“No,” She pointed over at Erik seated with his eyes on her, “I came with Erik.”

Dashawn followed Y/N’s finger, spotting Erik and smiling wide.

“E?! You’re...” she trailed off, pointing her finger between both Erik and her.

“Yes, he’s my man,” Y/N gave Dashawn a soft smile.

“Oh, okay,” Dashawn nods her head again, placing some hair behind her ear before looking away with a flicker of annoyance. Y/N fought a smile.

“So, we’re gonna go next?” Y/N tilted her head at Dashawn with a bite of her lip.

“Of course!” Dashawn giggled nervously, “Sorry, it’s the drink.”

“No worries, you’re laugh is really cute.”

Y/N gave Dashawn one final look before walking away and back to Erik. The closer she got, she put her thumbs up at him, Erik smiling behind a cup of liquor.

“How was that?”

“Perfect. You had her drooling, ma.”

“I thought it would be so hard.”

Erik gave her a funny look, “Do you see how fine you are? You ain’t even have to do that and Dashawn ass would be staring.”

He was excited now.

“I wanna see you flirt with her some more. Show me how you would flirt with another woman.”

“You are a mess,” Y/N laughs.

“Nah, I’m hooked.”

Once the others were finished, Dashawn and Y/N started a game. Dashawn was really good. Y/N was impressed.

“You’re like, a fucking pro at pool.”

“My dad taught me,” She went her turn, making the shot.

“What is it that you can’t do?”

“I can’t sing.”

It was Y/N’s turn, “With a voice that cute I would have thought otherwise.”

Dashawn blushes, leaning against her pool stick. Y/N arched her body over the pool table, aiming for the ball she needed and making the shot. Her skirt was spread over her bubble booty, the back of her thighs catching the light from the pool area. Dashawn tilted her head when she thought Y/N wasn’t paying attention to check her out. Y/N lifted up, turning towards Dashawn with hungry eyes.

“See something you like, Dashawn?”

The girl was speechless.

“Your turn, beautiful.”

Dashawn missed her shot. She was so enamored with what Y/N said that she was thrown off her game.

“What happened to all those winning shots!”

“You’re distracting me!” The alcohol started giving her courage.

“How so?” Y/N was tipsy herself.

“You’re just so damn beautiful that’s why,” Dashawn slapped her forehead, “oh shit, somebody come grab this drink away from me! I’m hitting on Erik’s girl,” Dashawn pouts, “I know you’re off-limits.”

“If you say so,” Y/N went her turn. Dashawn gave her a look, ready to open her mouth to speak but Erik approached. Dashawn looked at both of them with an envious eye.

“Daddy, I have to finish the game,” Y/N couldn’t pull away from his tight hold.

“I’m horny, gimme some pussy...”

He was drunk off that Hennessy and he wanted to deliver some Henny dick. Y/N knew she was in for a long exhausting night including multiple orgasms and no feeling in her legs.

“Daddy...” she leans back from him, “Can I finish my game with Dashawn? I like being in her company.”

Y/N looked across the table, noticing Dashawn looking away quickly.

“Why don’t you and Dashawn exchange numbers after this? Keep in touch.”

“I already planned on doing that.”

“Oh, shit,” Erik kisses her neck, finally letting her go, “finish your little game then we’re leaving.”

She smiles, “fine.”

Dashawn ended up winning. Y/N informed her and everyone else that she was about to leave with Erik. Dashawn’s face fell slightly but the minute Y/N pulled her into a tight hug a blush replaced her somber expression. They were chest against chest, arms wrapped around each other's waists. When Y/N pulled away she gave Dashawn one final longing stare before licking her lips to speak.

“We should exchange numbers. You know...to hang out some other time.”

“Definitely. I’d like that.”

Both women exchanged numbers.

“Wish I could stay longer but,” Y/N tilted her head towards Erik.

“Oh, I understand. Have fun.” Dashawn gave Y/N a smirk before walking away.

———————————-

Erik has been thinking about it for a few weeks since Y/N confessed to being bisexual. Her and Dashawn hung out a few times but nothing actually happened between them. They just remained friends. That was cool and all and he was happy his girl was making new friends but he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like having a threesome.

She had to be down for that.

After laying the pipe on Y/N for the second time that day, Erik peeked at his dick growing hard again under the covers, pushing into Y/N‘s ass.

“Again?” She asked in a sleepy tone.

“Do you even know what you do to me, girl?”

She sat up, the covers falling away from her large breasts, “Do you even know what you do to me?”

She pulled the covers back, climbing on top of him with a quake in her thighs. She was still sore from a couple of hours ago.

“Oh, I know,” Erik lines his dick up with her still wet pussy, “I remember how much I had to work to get you to even look at me.”

Y/N slid down his length with ease. She closed her eyes, reaching out her hands to place against his chest. Erik grabs her waist, thrusting his hips up into her slowly.

“You-you remember the first time we had sex?” Erik asked with a struggle.

“Of course I do, baby,” Y/N smiles before her lips parted, a soft moan rolling off her tongue, “It was so intense. I felt like a virgin again.”

“This pussy is still just as tight and wet as the first time,” Erik arches Y/N over him a little so he could thrust into her pussy deeper. Her ass slapped against his thighs and balls each time he bottomed out inside of her.

“Daddy,” Y/N asked between strokes, “I want to have a threesome.”

“W-what?” He was drilling her pussy at this point.

“I want to have a threesome!”

Erik slowed down, Y/N leaning back to look at him.

“I want us to have sex with another woman.”

“When?” Erik’s dick got harder inside of her. Y/N shivered from the stretch.

“A-anytime D-daddy. I-I really want it.”

“Fuck,” Erik could hear her creamy pussy, “Goddam, you hear that? Your pussy making them noises daddy like when he fucking you.”

Her pussy made loud squelching sounds.

“Hell yeah, I want us to have a threesome. Hell. Yeah.”

“Daddy, you’re so excited,” Y/N started fucking him herself, “You’ve been fantasizing about me eating pussy and getting my pussy ate and fucked by another woman?”

“How you gonna let another bitch eat that pussy?”

“Ima sit on her face and ride,” she rode him, working her hips.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to see that shit. My balls filling up with all this cum, Princess. You ready for me to nut in this pussy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she bounced on him harder.

“Yeah, work that dick, show out baby.”

Erik has his hands behind his head but from time to time he would slap her ass.

“I felt that puss grip my fucking dick. You better cum all over me too.”

“Yeah, Ima cum all over you, baby.” She was in an entrancing and numbing state with his dick deep inside of her pussy.

“Fuck, Daddy, this big dick!”

She pressed hard into his chest, her body seizing up and her orgasm hitting her full force. Erik was close behind, thrusting into her with an almost blur of his hips before he pushed deep into her pussy, holding it there while his cum spilled out of his dick and in and around her pussy. Every time she spasmed his cum would spill from the sides of her pussy lips because his dick was still tightly sheathed inside of her.

“FUCK. You always have me doing this shit. This good pussy always makes me cum so much.”

She slipped off of Erik to clean up her mess. Erik watched her lick and suck him clean with low eyes.

“We gotta find a fine ass bitch for the both of us, baby girl.”

“Mhm,” She licked her lips clean.

“Gimme a kiss.”

Y/N kissed Erik’s lips.

“Let’s plan it next weekend,” She suggests.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress@chefjessypooh@chaneajoyyy@pananegra@theblulife @becincere@blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah@moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites@crowngold@njadakillthiscookie@blktinkerbell@luvanxi@sheisexcellent1@chocolatedippedinhoney@brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy@soulfulbeauty19@btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97@youngblackndgifted@harleycativy @rbhp@thee-germanpeach@thadelightfulone@bugngiz@palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty@nizzle-mo

#Erik Killmonger #killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine #killmonger smut #nahimjustfeelingit writes

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 5 years ago

Text

There was This Girl

Title: There was This Girl

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4030

Square Filled: Pie

Summary: No matter how much time had passed and how much time had hindered their memory, it was pie that seemed always bring Dean and Y/N back together. Like the saying goes, “some things never change.”

Warnings: Fluff, Explicit Language, Under-aged Drinking, and Mentions of Relationships and Break-ups.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Gif Not Mine

Sonny’s Preschool, 1983

It was Dean’s third day of preschool, and although he’s made a bunch of friends, there were times in the day when he would find himself randomly missing his family. He missed his dad’s voice, the warmth of his mother’s embrace, and playing with his new baby brother, Sammy.

Today, it happened during lunch. He had a nibble of his sandwich, demolished his small pack of Oreos, took a sip of his juice, but that was it. With his stomach swirling with the feelings of missing his dad, mom, and baby brother, he didn’t have an appetite.

Dean’s eyes began to water when suddenly a small voice caught his attention. “Hi,” his classmate, Y/N, beamed, occupying the empty seat beside him. Dean always described her as… bouncy. She opened her Princess lunch box which revealed a container inside. “Are you missing your mommy and daddy again?” She asked. Dean met her large sparkling eyes and nodded in affirmation. She smiled in return. “It’s okay, Dean. They’re going to come back and pick you up after school like they always do. I really like your mom, she’s really nice,” Y/N smiled. “She makes really good cookies.”

“I like my mom too,” Dean mumbled.

“What did your mommy make you for lunch today?” Y/N asked.

“My dad made me my lunch. I got a ham and cheese sammich, Oreos, and juice.”

“Ooh! I love Oreos!” She chirped. “My mommy said because I was a good girl the whole week, I get to have two pieces of cherry pie. Do you wanna have one? It’s really yummy.” Y/N pulled out the container in her lunch box, settling it in front of her. She peeled off the lid and recklessly dropping it back into her tin lunch box, creating a loud crashing sound. The teacher looked up at her with a slight frown, catching his glimpse on her.

“Y/N, please place your things nicely and quietly in your lunch box. That was really loud and it scared some of our friends,” Mr. Gibbons told her.

“Sorry, Mr. Gibbons,” she apologized with a shy voice. When her teacher smiled, Y/N returned the gesture before resuming the task at hand. Without her knowing, Mr. Gibbons continued to watch Y/N’s interaction with Dean, taking mental anecdotes that he will be recording down later so that he could share the precious exchange with both children’s parents.

Y/N pulled out one of the many crumpled napkins from inside her lunch box, pushing Dean’s sandwich out of the way before placing the napkin on the table in front of him, smoothing it out with her tiny hands. She then, as gently as she could, scooped up one of the slices of pie onto Dean’s napkin. “There!” she chirped happily.

“Thank you. Pie is my favorite food!” Dean beamed, looking at his slice of pie with excitement, before focusing back on her.

“Me too!” She gushed, smiling over at him as she pulled out a crumpled napkin, smoothing it out in front of her, and taking the pie from inside her container and placing it on her napkin. She pulled out one fork, and handed it over to you Dean, then searched her lunch box for another one, but frowned when there wasn’t any.

“Y/N, would you like another fork?” Mr. Gibbons asked, his voice kind as usual.

“Yes please!” She replied, eyes sparking again.

Dean was too young at the time to understand his emotions, but there was something in the way that she looked that made him wish he could always be close to her. That they could be best friends forever.

They were best friends all through preschool.

Lawrence Elementary School, 1989

Dean got into an argument with his best friend Castiel (Cass for short) and was currently not on speaking terms, which is why he was sitting alone, eating his packed lunch. He was sitting on a different table, not his usual spot, so when the group that usually sat there approached, they greeted him kindly.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N called out, sitting beside him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean flashed her a small smile, a hint of embarrassment displaying across his features.

“Where’s Cass?” She asked, her friends taking their seat on either sides of the two of them.

“We got into a fight and now we’re not really friends anymore,” he frowned.

“Hey, that’s okay. You can hang out with us if you want,” she smiled, patting his shoulders, making Dean smile. He scanned over her group of friends. He recognized them. There was Meg, Bela, and Donna.

“You betcha!” Donna gave him a thumbs up, before chomping on her powdered doughnut.

“Didn’t your mom say to eat that last?” Meg chided.

“Whatever—” Donna grumbled, setting her doughnut down on the table for later.

“Hey, for doing really good in school, my mom packed me two pieces of pecan pie! You want one?” Y/N asked, wanting nothing more than for Dean to feel better. She understood how he sad he must feel not being with his best friend.

Dean’s eyes widened, definitely wanting a piece. He was not going to pass up pie! He loved pie. She pulled out a napkin from her X-men Lunch box, placing it neatly in front of him before using a fork to scoop up the pie slowly and carefully, setting it on his napkin, leaving the fork with it.

“I’ve got a fork,” Dean grinned, handing her back the fork.

“Oh, okay,” she smiled, taking it from him. He watched her do the same for herself, the sight of her action almost feeling like déjà vu, but he shrugged and enjoyed his new company. For a bunch of girls, he thought they were pretty cool.

Lawrence High School, 1996

It was now Senior Year and as usual, Dean was sitting under the bleachers during his free period with a pack of beer sitting beside him, a couple of the bottles empty.

“Always the bad boy, aren’t you, Winchester?” His thoughts were caught off when he heard a familiar voice. He looked up and rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a bit young to be drinking alcohol?” Y/N reprimanded.

“Not in Mexico,” he grinned, raising his half empty bottle in the air. This time she rolled her eyes at him.

“Where did you even get the booze?” Y/N asked.

“That’s none of your business. What are you even doing here anyways? Shouldn’t a goody two-shoe like yourself be in the library studying?”

She cleared her throat. “I am not a goody two-shoes.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re here under the bleachers?” Dean quirked an eyebrow, his eyes boring into her. As he did, he couldn’t help but really look at her. They had been classmates for years, but he’s never really taken the time to pay attention.

She was cute.

“It’s my free period,” she stated simply.

“I know. And you’re usually in the library. I see you in there with what’s his face all the time, noses buried in a book.”

“His name is Michael, if you forgot.”

“Whatever.”

“Besides, we broke up. That’s why I’m not in the library,” she sighed, taking a seat beside Dean, and snatching the bottle from his hands, tanking the rest of it’s contents in one go. Dean looked at her with a shocked expression. He was definitely not expecting that. “It’s been a while since I had a beer,” she confessed, leaning her head against one of the bleacher beams.

“You drink?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, but I stopped when Michael and me started dating. He wasn’t into that stuff. Now that I think about it, he was extremely controlling. I don’t even know why I was with him,” she sighed.

“The money?” He teased.

“Tch. Who do you think I am? I don’t care about the money.”

“I was kidding,” Dean admitted.

“You know what I think it was? I think I was so drawn into him because he was the only guy who actually put in an effort to be with me. I turned him down twice before we got together, you know that? And now… he’s dumped me for Miss Teacher’s pet,” she spat, referring to her old friend.

“Weren’t you and Bela best friends in elementary school?” Dean asked, opening a new bottle of beer and handing it to her.

“Yeah, we were. But then middle school happened, and she got her boobs. After that, the rest was history. She became a brown nosing bitch,” she hissed. “Megs chilling with the gothic chicks, and Donna… well, she’s Donna,” Y/N’s frown quickly changed into a smile. “I wish she had free period right now. She’s know exactly how to cheer me up.”

“Hey, I got booze! I’m helping aren’t I?” Dean joked, lightly shoving her with his elbow.

His action made her laugh, and Dean couldn’t help but smile wide. “Yeah, thanks,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Hey…” Y/N started, rummaging through her bag. “I bought two slices of pie this morning. One was supposed to be for Michael, but since the douche ditch my ass, you want it?” She offered, handing him an individually packed slice of apple pie. “It’s from Breadbury’s,” she added.

“Oh, fuck yeah. I love that place!” Dean happily accepted.

“Me too! And I love the name of the place. It always makes me laugh,” Y/N giggled, taking out her own apple pie, handing Dean a fork at the same time.

“Thanks. The Bradbury’s are a funny bunch. Their daughter is a little weird though,” Dean commented.

“Yeah, she is, but she’s adorable. I used to babysit her when she was younger. She played video games the whole time! Literally, easy money!” she laughed.

“Did you ever sneak Michael in?” Dean’s immature and hormonal mind took over.

“Nah. Every time I asked if he wanted to come over, he’d say it was a bad idea, and that he had to study.”

“Wow, all work and no play makes Mikey a dull guy. If it were me, I would have sneaked in all the time. Babysitting is always the best opportunity for some hot make out sessions,” he wiggled his brow, taking a large bit of pie.

Y/N laughed, throwing her head back. “Right? Being with Michael was a missed opportunity on so many hot and steamy make out sessions.”

“If I was your boyfriend, that’s all we’d do,” he winked.

“Is that so?” Y/N giggled.

“Hell yeah,” he grinned.

“You really are a bad boy, Dean Winchester. I like it.”

Ten Years Later, Sioux Fall, South Dakota

Today of all days, Singer’s Auto Shop was dead. They had a few cars in that they were trying to fix, but other than that, it was quiet. No oil changes, safety checks… dead.

“Hey Bobby, Benny and I are going on our lunch breaks!” Dean called out to his uncle, who was locked in his office upstairs doing paper work.

“You got thirty minutes!” Bobby shouted.

Dean and his buddy since college, Benny, headed out towards the front of the shop and towards Bobby’s house, which was conveniently next door. They planted themselves on the front porch where they usually sat, and as always, Benny’s girlfriend had prepared him something amazing.

“What’d Pam make ya this time?” Dean asked.

“Looks like chicken fried steak,” he whistled, obviously overjoyed with his home-cooked meal.

“Dang, maybe I should find myself an older woman that can cook too,” Dean laughed, pulling out the turkey and cheese sandwich he made himself the night before.

“Or maybe just get yourself a girlfriend, period,” the Southern man chuckled. “C’mon man. It’s time to move on from Lisa. College was a distant chapter in our lives and now it’s time to move on, cowboy.”

“Yeah. Besides, Lisa couldn’t cook for shit. If the next girl that waltz into my life can make a damn good pie, I’ll consider her,” Dean replied, both men laughing.

While the two men ate their lunch, a red buggy car came rolling in, sounding not very pleasant. “That doesn’t sound good,” Benny muttered with his mouth full.

“You keep eating, I’ll handle this one,” Dean popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth before getting up, wiping his hands on his oil-stained denim.

“Hi, is this Singer’s Auto Shop?” A girl walked out. She looked a little disheveled. Her hair was up in a high bun, strands of her hair falling out, and her rusty red colored tank top was half tucked into her short high waisted shorts.

“Yeah, what can we do for you?” Dean asked, jogging over to her.

“My car started making this weird sound and then she started smoking,” she told him.

Dean looked at the old car, noting that it seemed vaguely familiar, but then again, he was a mechanic. He’s seen and worked on all sorts of cars – domestic and foreign. “Well, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but it’s a hunk of junk. You’re better off buying a new car. It would be much cheaper in the long run.”

“I’m a little low in the bank right now, so could you just add some duct tape so I can be on my way?” She snapped, obviously offended by his remark.

“Sure thing, Sweetheart,” he flashed her a forced smile, before gesturing her over to the passenger seat.

She rolled her eyes and plopped herself into the car while Dean jumped into the driver’s seat. He grunted at that minimal space in the car, reaching downwards for the lever to adjust his seat.

“Struggling over there?” She smirked, her voice hinting her amusement.

“Damn, you’re short,” he responded, making her frown at the statement. Dean grinned in triumph, before driving the car to the garage.

She stood beside Dean as he lifted the hood, eyes going wide and jaw practically dropping to the floor. “What the hell is this?” He mumbled, taking in all the duct tape. “You really wasn’t kidding about the duct tape! Let me guess… you ran out and your only option was the shop? That’s why you’re here?”

“Bingo,” she snapped her fingers.

“You don’t just use duct tape to fix cars!” He snapped, glaring at her.

“Like I said, I’m a little low in the bank. Besides, I just started her back up. I haven’t drove this car since college.”

“What were you driving before you brought this girl back to life?” Dean was curious.

“My ex bought me a car. I left it behind when I left him,” he confessed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen lady, you’re better off buying a new car. This little bug is running its last breath, thanks to your lack of TLC.”

“TLC? Really? It’s a car,” she crossed her arms. “Look, I just need to make it as far away from Kansas as I can, you think you can help a girl out?”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you, but this is the furthest away you’re going to get.”

“How do you even know that this is as far as I’m going to get? You haven’t even looked at it yet. I’m sure you can’t make any diagnosis without even trying.”

“I don’t even know where to begin! There’s duct tape everywhere! Tell me, how may times had this poor guzzler die out on you while on your expedition to who knows where?” Dean inquired. The woman beside him bit her bottom lip with guilt. “How many?” Dean reiterated.

Y/N sighed. “About six or seven times,” she confessed.

“Six or seven! Sweetheart, you’ve only managed to cross one state and it’s already broken down on you that many times? What’s in Kansas anyway that’s got you running for the hills? Let me guess. Controlling parents, maybe you’re a runaway bride, or maybe you running from trouble?”

She gulped. “We’ve all got our own story, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell a complete stranger about it,” she snapped. “But if you must know, I had a bad break up and I just wanted to start fresh.”

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” Dean assured.

“Thanks. My name is Y/N, by the way.”

“Dean,” he smiled.

While Dean was tinkering away, she sat atop a table littered with items she assumed were tools and car parts. There were a few things on that table that she recognized, meaning, she’s seen them before but had no knowledge on what the hell they were called. Eventually, she got bored of the silence, needing some conversation to stimulate her mind.

“So…” she began, “you grew up around here? Bobby seems to know you really well. He your dad?”

“Nah, Bobby’s my uncle. My brother and I used to come here every summer while we were younger. My dad got me into cars, and he taught me everything I know, but it was bobby that taught me how to rebuild a car from all the scraps in the yard.”

“That’s great, then maybe you can fix mine?” She asked with hope.

“Oh, I’m trying. It took us all summer to build that car, and we didn’t even have the car fully assembled. We just had enough so that the car could run. This… this will be a miracle without me taking the entire thing apart.”

“Then let’s just hope a miracle does happen,” she threw him a thumbs up, and Dean shook his head. He knew this was going to be impossible to fix in a short amount of time. He’d need at least a week or two to fix up the mess she’d created.

Silence resumed its position, creating a bit of an awkwardness in the room. She was swinging her legs too and fro from her seat on a table, staring at Dean’s back. She couldn’t resist her eyes slowly following the muscle lines of his back, leading down to his perky ass, where she allowed herself to appreciate for a few seconds longer. Her eyes fell further downwards, admiring his jean clad bow legs. There was no way she could deny that Dean was attractive. And she also couldn’t ignore that there was something about him that was somewhat familiar.

Her mind drifted to her past. Once upon a time she knew a Dean back in Lawrence, but there was no way that this guy was him. The Dean she remembered was tall and skinny, however, the years had blurred his face from her memory. She couldn’t remember what he looked like. All she remembered was his name and the things he’s done.

“Hey, are you listening?” Dean asked. She saw his lips moving but she couldn’t seem to get out of her head. Her eyes landed on his face, realizing that his eyes were now her favorite shade of green. He had rough stubble framing his jaw and it made him look rugged, like he could own her in more ways than one. And then the freckles speckling on his cheeks made him look extremely boyish, which made him all the more handsome. There was no doubt that he was an attractive man. “Y/N, hey. Can you hear me? Where’s your head at?” He asked again, snapping his fingers this time, finally breaking her from the “sexy mechanic” induced trance she was imprisoned in.

“Sorry, what?” She batted her eyes.

“I was asking if you could pass me the rag,” he pointed beside her.

“Oh, sorry. I was… uh, I was just lost in my thoughts,” she gave him an embarrassed smile.

“It’s cool. Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Her cheeks went red. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she was checking him out. “Uh, just stuff,” she said, keeping her answer vague.

Dean watched her, his eyes trying to read passed her, and she could sense it. Her heart started to speed up, fearing that if he stared at her any longer, he’d see right through her. She felt the need to advert the attention elsewhere, otherwise she’d confess that she was checking out his ass and those strong bowlegs of his.

“Hey, could you do for a snack?” She piped. “I just remembered, I bought some peach and apple pie on the way. It’s actually sounding really good right about now,” she beamed.

“Uh…” Dean started, not sure what to make of her sudden change of subject and offer. “Yeah, sure. I could never say no to pie,” he smiled.

Y/N’s smile widened as she hopped off the table, bouncing over to the back of her car. She pulled out a woven picnic basket. “Are your coworker’s still around? We can all have some pie together.”

“Uh, yeah. I think Benny is working on a car outside, and Bobby is still up in the office. Let me get them.” She nodded. “Benny! Bobby! Get down here!” He yelled, his deep piercing voice making her jump. “Sorry,” he grinned meekly.

“What are you shoutin’ ‘about now?!” Bobby came storming down the steps from his office, while Benny walked in, dripping with sweat, the cloth in his hand doing nothing to stop the salty beads running down his skin.

“What’s up?” Benny asked.

“Snack break?” she added, Bobby and Benny looking down at her then to Dean.

Bobby’s attention fell back to Y/N and she noticed the way his features softened. “Yeah, okay. A snack wouldn’t hurt.”

Dean and Benny shared a passing glance, the edges of their lips curled upwards. Bobby has always had a soft spot for puppy dog eyes, the same eyes Y/N was currently impaling him with.

“Great! What we got here?” Benny rubbed his oil-stained hands together.

“Well, for starters, everyone needs to go wash their hands,” she ordered, pointing to each of them.

“You got forks don’t you? Why do we need to wash our hands?” Dean frowned, wanting nothing more than to get his taste buds swimming with pie.

“Hands. Wash’em.” She told them sternly, all three men groaning at her command.

Y/N smiled with triumph, following them to the sinks, washing her own hands. “Goody two-shoes,” she heard Dean mumble under his breath.

“I heard that,” she snarled, his shoulder’s going ridged.

When everyone gathered back around the basket, Y/N pulled out some napkins, setting them on the table. “Sorry guys, I don’t have any plates. I was planning on eating them straight out the tin,” she giggled shyly.

“That’s how Dean eats his pie,” Bobby revealed.

“No, I don’t,” Dean defended causing Benny to laugh.

As she was setting the napkins in front of each them, Dean had a flash of nostalgia. This has happened many times before.

“I’ve got peach and apple, choose your poison,” she chuckled at her own joke, which wasn’t all that funny or clever. Bobby and Benny were quick to choose their preference, but as she asked Dean, he stared at her a little longer than was comfortably acceptable. “Dean?”

“What?” He was lost in his thoughts, memories flashing before his eyes. All this time he thought something was familiar about her and now things were falling into place. “Sorry, uh… I’ll take apple.”

After pie and as the sun went down, Dean called it a day and invited Y/N to stay at his place. There was no way she could have rejected his offer considering she didn’t have the money to rent another motel if she wanted her car fixed. That and she had no place to go. With good faith, she said yes. And if anything were to happen to her, Bobby and Benny knew of their arrangements.

When they reached Dean’s apartment, Y/N complimented his place, saying that it was cozy, and definitely the home of a mechanic. She strolled his one-bedroom apartment, scanning the walls, looking at all the hung photos when one caught her eye. Dean stood behind her with anticipation. If she knew who was in that photo, then he was right about who she was.

“This… this is Sam… Sam Winchester… and that’s… you…” She spun around on her heel with wide eyes staring at him.

“Hi Y/N… it’s been a long time,” Dean smiled.

Did you like it? Then PLEASE Reblog and share it! I would also really appreciate some feedback! xx

Say Something Nice Here!

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memesiders · 5 years ago

Text

Part 5

Death x OC Office AU

I hit send and sighed, leaning back in my seat. Three cancelations, two rescheduled meetings, and a bunch of chain letter spam all before one. Not to mention the hour I spent on the phone trying to get a definitive time for one of the rescheduled appointments.

“It gets easier,” Nora reminded me for the fourth time today. There were dark circles under her eyes and she seemed less cheerful than she had earlier.

“Will it? Cause right now, all I want to do is reach through the phone and choke out the next person who won’t give me an answer,” I replied, rubbing my temples.

“It will, trust me. Just give it a year or two.” I snorted at her comment and she smiled, patting my back. “Seriously, it’ll get easier. You have to really practice patience.” I cursed under my breath and she laughed, picking up another call as the phone rang. I turned in my chair, moving from side to side.

My eyes landed on the elevator that Death and his brothers had gone in earlier. None of them had come down since then. What were they talking about, I wondered? Were they fighting? Discussing vacation plans? I chuckled quietly as the image of Death in a large sunhat, a Hawaiian shirt, and khakis popped into my head. I’d pay to see that. Though I’d bet money that Death never took any time away from work; he didn’t seem the type.

Maybe if his siblings dragged him out, even if only for a night on the town? Did he ever go bar hopping or clubbing? I could see him sitting at a bar in low lighting, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’d be wearing a leather jacket and nice fitting jeans with some boots, and all the women would be afraid to make the first move, but some confident lady would chat him up and all the other girls would be seething with jealousy, wondering if she was the one he was going to take home tonight.

When had I started fantasizing about my boss and his life?

“Az,” Nora said, pinching me. I winced and swirled back to her, scowling. She pointed towards the doors and I looked over, sitting up straight as Neema walked in. Her short pecan curls stuck out from under her beanie, her oversized band shirt hanging off of one shoulder. She had on a pair of ratty old boots that Safiya had given her years ago and her pants had paint smudges all over them. She smiled brightly at me, waving wildly. I waved back, smiling myself, and stood as she ran over, throwing herself into my arms.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hugging her tightly.

“I was bored so I thought I’d drop by and see your new job,” she answered, clinging to me tightly. I frowned slightly. Something was wrong, I could tell, but I wasn’t going to push the subject here. I kissed the top of her head and pulled back, gesturing to Nora.

“This is Nora.” The two waved at each other. My phone rang and I held up a finger, picking it up. “Hello, thank you for calling the CC Corporation, how may I help you?”

“Nora?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“This is not her, I’m sorry. My name is Aziza; do you need to speak to Nora?”

“No, my apologies. I didn’t know there was someone new. Please, forgive me.”

“It’s quite alright. May I ask why you’re calling?”

“Ah, yes, I need to speak with Death, please.”

“And who is this?”

“Azrael.” I put my hand over the voice box and looked at Nora.

“An Azrael is calling,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Put him through to whoever he wants,” she immediately replied. I nodded and uncovered the speaker, replying.

“Alright, I’ll patch you through.”

“Thank you very much,” Azrael said.

“No problem!” I hit the forward call button and hung up, turning back to Neema. She was smiling proudly at me. I returned it.

“My big sister is growing up so fast,” she said, faking a sniffle. I rolled my eyes playfully and checked the time. It was time for my break.

“You wanna go for a walk? I have a half hour to burn,” I suggested. She nodded and I let Nora know I’d be back before leaving the building. We started walking, no destination in mind. I glanced over as we wandered, noticing a frown curving her lips. Whatever was wrong was really bothering her. I wanted to ask but I was unsure of how to approach the subject. Was she upset with me? No, she wouldn’t have come if she was mad at me. Was it Safiya? Had something happened at home?

“Why are you staring at me?” I jumped as she looked at me, brow arched curiously.

“Sorry…” I scratched the back of my neck, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I just… You seem upset, but I don’t want to push anything.” Neema gave me a small smile and wrapped her arms around one of mine, resting her head against my shoulder. It suddenly felt like she was a small child again, afraid to leave my side whenever we ventured out.

“There is something wrong,” she said, voice small. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey, nothing is stupid,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “If it’s bothering you then it’s definitely not stupid.” She giggled a little and then sighed.

“It’s Lyriel…”

“Ahh…”

“She’s going on a date… I was gonna tell her how I felt about her, but before I could she told me one of our classmates asked her out. She said yes…” I frowned and slipped my arm out of hers, wrapping it around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

“You should still tell her.”

“How can I? She’s going on a date!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s going to be a good date.” She looked up at me with glassy eyes and I felt my heart tighten; she was more smitten than I realized. “Look, you’re going to have many crushes and many loves of your life. You shouldn’t let the unknown hold you back. Lyriel is never going to know how you feel until you tell her, and you’re never gonna know how she feels either. What if she’s thinking about you right now? What if she likes you too but is also afraid to say anything?”

She looked away from me, letting my words sink in. Damn, you should charge people for this advice. I held back a laugh at my own thoughts and stopped walking, turning her to me. “You only live once.” She barked out a laugh, wiping at her teary eyes.

“Did you really just say that? God, you’re cringey,” she sniffled. I smiled.

“Yes, yes I did,” I replied. “But it’s true and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She hugged me tightly and I wrapped my arms around her, hugging back just as tightly. My smile grew. I wiped the tears from her eyes when we pulled apart and we headed back to the office, Neema now bouncing around happily. “So, Safiya told me about what your boss did for you.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. Great, now it’s her turn to try and lecture me.

“He only did it so I didn’t miss work.”

“Sure he did…” I glared at her playfully and she laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “I think perhaps your boss-”

“Don’t! I already heard it from Saf, I don’t need to hear it from you. There’s no way, no possibility that my boss wants to sleep with me!” A few older women walking by gave us a weird look and I blushed, ignoring them.

“He bought you a whole ass meal, ZiZi!”

“He was just being nice!” She rolled her eyes at me.

“He’s also taking you to a party.”

“Only because I want to pay him back.”

“He couldn’t have asked you to work overtime? Maybe take away one of your weekends?” I felt my face grow red and I rubbed my temples. God, this would never end, would it? “Look, all I’m saying is, I think there’s something more there than you think.”

“We barely know each other, Neem. I only ever interact with him when he’s coming or going. I don’t think I’m even his type.”

She rolled her eyes again. Her eyes must’ve been tired from all that rolling. “What do you think his type is, exactly?” I thought about it for a moment.

“Smart,” I started. “Confident, elegant, probably likes fitness and reading.”

“You like reading!”

“I haven’t picked up a book in a month.”

“You’re smart!”

“I almost failed math, Neem.”

“Would you stop putting yourself down?” It was her turn to stop me. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at me sternly. “You are a smart, confident, sassy beautiful woman. You light up any room you’re in and any guy would be lucky to have you on his arm!” I smiled a little. “You are more beautiful than any angel or supermodel.”

“I think that’s taking it a little too far, Neem.” She waved away my comment.

“You’re more amazing than you give yourself credit for.” I pulled her into a tight hug and she yelped. “Ugh, let me go!”

“Never,” I laughed. She sighed and hugged me back.

We got back to the office a few minutes later. Nora was coming back from her lunch break as well when we walked in. Neema had given me the small confidence boost I needed to make it through the rest of my shift and I couldn’t thank her enough for it. I still didn’t think Death was attracted to me, but it felt nice to hear such nice things from my little sister. We were just saying our goodbyes when Death and his brothers walked out of the elevator. Strife looked happy while Death and War wore looked tired and glad to be done with whatever had gone on up there. Death noticed me and broke away from the others, walking over.

“Miss Banks,” he said, reaching us. “Who is this?” He looked at my sister, who was now staring at him wide eyed, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. Her head was craned back as far as she could bend it.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “This is your boss? You weren’t lying when you said he was smokin’ hot.” I slapped my hand over my face, warmth radiating from my neck to my ears. Death chuckled quietly and I peeked through my fingers, noticing an amused glint in his eye.

“I take it this is the same one who placed that photograph in your resume file?”

“Guilty! Hi, I’m Neema, Azi’s little sister. We sort of met at the apartment.” She extended her hand for a handshake and he stared at it for a moment, brow arched and head tilted slightly. His eyes flicked back to hers and, hesitantly, he took her hand.

“I don’t remember, sorry. That day was quite busy for me.” She shrugged off his reply and nodded her head towards me.

��So, I hear you’re taking my sister on a date, huh?”

“What, why didn’t I hear about this,” Strife asked, appearing next to Death. The older brother rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a date. I’m bringing her to the party tonight. Fury wanted me to bring someone.”

“Since when have you cared about what our sister wants?” War asked, joining the others. Death ran a hand over his face, and I could’ve sworn I saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink for a moment.

“I’ve decided to placate her for one evening,” Death grumbled. “Besides, Miss Banks offered.” That wasn’t exactly true, but I wasn’t going to deny it. He looked like he needed all the help he could get to get out of the predicament he was in. War grunted, seeming satisfied with his answer. Strife, however, was not.

“Why didn’t you bring Amber? Or some other employee? Hell, even Nora could’ve come!”

“I have a baby, you know,” she cut in quickly before answering the phone.

“Still, you’re bringing the newbie?” Strife wiggled his brows in a suggestive manner and it looked like Death was hanging onto his sanity by a thread. “Why big brother, how uncharacteristic of you.”

“Shut up.” Death narrowed his eyes at his brother, his fists clenched. I stepped forward and grabbed the sleeve of his suit, tugging lightly. He looked at me, confused, and I smiled.

“Probably not a good idea to beat your brother up in the lobby,” I said quietly. His eyes lowered to where my hand was on his sleeve and I quickly removed it, apologizing.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re quite right.” Strife made kissing noises and this time it was Death’s turn to hold me back from clocking his brother. “It was nice to meet you, Neema.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she giggled, enjoying the show playing out in front of her. “When you take ZiZi out, make sure to bring her home by one, alright?” I smacked her shoulder and she laughed.

“You should head home,” I said firmly, giving her a warning look. She laughed and hugged me tightly.

“Love you too, sis; don’t forget to bring us back some snacks, I have a feeling dinner’s gonna be Top Ramen again!” She said goodbyes to the others before she left. I was a little sad to see her leave, but I did have a job to do. Death held up a file I hadn’t noticed he was holding and handed it to me.

“Amber picked out a selection of dresses for this evening,” he explained, ignoring the teasing that Strife had started up. “Go through and pick what you’d like, then email her your choice. There’s also a selection of shoes and jewelry. Hair and makeup will be here as soon as your shift ends.” My brows lifted and I looked at the folder, noticing how thick it was.

“Do I really need to do all of this? Can’t you just pick something out?” I asked, already feeling stressed.

“I don’t want you to be dressed in something you’re not comfortable in. It’s better you decide.” I nodded. It was nice of him to let me pick what I wanted to wear; though I almost preferred him picking for me.

“Oh, well, thank you. I’ll look through immediately.” He nodded and left with his brothers, Strife still teasing him about bringing me as his date. I shook my head, smiling, and sat back down.

“I didn’t know the boss was taking you out,” Nora said playfully. I groaned.

“Don’t you start too.”

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #death #death x oc #office au #war #strife

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i-rove-rock-n-roll · 5 years ago

Text

Bits of wips

Cause why not?

Icarus (opening lines)

Icarus sneezed. The dust inside the cramped tower swirled, agitated by his constant twitching. He sneezed again and winced as his father laced the leather harness around him tightly, yanking it into place.

“Ow.” He squirmed. “Ow!”

“Stand up straight.” Icarus winced again, this time at the swat. The wings were heavy, almost half the weight of his wiry frame. “They won’t fit properly if you don’t quit squirming.”

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Icarus craned his neck to try and glimpse where the wings met his back, the feathers already itching. They fluttered briefly, and Icarus smiled.

Sequels to Icarus

Ariadne

Ariadne’s throat was raw from screaming. She had cried for a short while, then screamed for as long as she could. After nothing changed, she threw herself down, then picked herself back up, and tried to find something to do some way to make her situation marginally better.

The first thing to do was build a signal fire.

Helen

Paris looked upon her face, eyes searching, gleaming. Hungry. Then he sat back, disappointed.

“I thought she'd be prettier.”

Helen wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out.

Potential sequels to the above

Medea

Heracles (note: Heracles has cameos in both Icarus and Ariadne)

Other wips

Redemption Day

‘Here comes the cavalry,’ the figure thought, eyes opening to look up hazily at the leaves that would have been green had there been enough light to see by. The nearest light was a streetlamp a few meters away, though the brightest light in town just happened to be the Donaldson house, which always had some sort of decorative lawn ornament or Christmas light that made the neighbors grumble and close their curtains or cut the electric wires.

Fingers fluttered at the beat, and their eyes stayed shut, even as the patrol car drove by, slowing suspiciously at the closed graveyard gate, but moved on to a better lit street. Then the sirens started. Another siren called back in response before a third pierced the not yet quiet air.

Of course, the Donaldson house happened to be the brightest this night because it was on fire.

Wolves and Witches (untitled)

“Turn me back.” The wolf demanded.

The magician blinked. That wasn’t quite what he expected. “But I went through all this trouble! Don’t you at least want to try it?” He had anticipated a joyous response, or at the very least some form of praise for having broken the laws of reality.

“Not really. I’d much rather be a wolf.” Said the woman that used to be a wolf. Then she shook her hair out and bared her teeth, still deadly. “Turn. Me. Back.”

Mayan Hero Twins (untitled--Characters don’t have names yet either)

“I remember her.” Grandmother’s eyes sharpened. “Came to me about ten years ago, saying she was pregnant with Son’s children. Little--”

“Surprise.” X said flatly, cutting off whatever insult she had planned. “She was right.” There was no surprise in the old woman’s face.

“I demand a paternity test.”

“And it was twelve years ago, not ten.”

“Paternity. Test.” H rolled her eyes, thrusting the packet of medical work at her.

“Here. You go.” Grandmother’s eyes narrowed as she read, and narrowed further still when she looked up at the twins, distrustful. A beat of silence, then she said,

“When Son returns, he will be the one to figure out what to do with you. Until then, you stay here, and stay out of my hair, understand?” H swallowed her scowl, and X swallowed his smile.

“Of course.”

Caín

“You got a name?” The man blinked in sunrise that the sudden question.

“Carl.”

“I’ll believe that if you believe I wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was a kid.” Father Turrell snorted, then said seriously. “I actually wanted to be a tap dancer.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Did you expect me to?” He arched a brow. ‘Carl’ muttered under his breath. “You don’t look like a Carl.” Father Turrell paused thoughtfully. “Does anyone actually look like a Carl?”

“Not anyone you want to meet.” The priest furrowed his brow at the strange sentence, but began to collect dishes, running lukewarm water in the sink.

“Anyway, Carl or not, you’re free to have coffee with me anytime you wish.”

Down We Fall (royal political drama)

It happened slowly. He began to notice the little things, quick flashes of personality he'd never noticed before. A selfishness. A coldness. At first he thought one of the cooks had slipped him something, some sort of paranoia inducing drug. But rifling through the kitchen late at night proved nothing, other than his suspicion that Cook Lafet used more butter than necessary and less pecans than she should. Her nails traced his face and he couldn't help but shiver. “Darling,” she stopped. “What's wrong?” Normally he would've taken her hand in his and kissed it to reassure her. But this time he was the one in need of reassurance.

The Day Pa Crow Died

The truck gave a cough in warning. Pa frowned, checking the dash. It had been full last night, he knew, since he had stopped at the gas station just after giving one of his kids a lift to their PTA meeting (their car had crapped out just before they were supposed to be at the school, leading to a panicked plea interrupting Pa’s nightly television hour). Pa knew he should have more gas that this, but focused instead on finding someplace safe to pull over. The truck died just as he made it to the gas station.

Pa grunted as he got out, his knees rolling a bit, though the drop wasn’t very far. Reaching for the pump, a small pink note greeted him, scribbled in thick marker.

PAY INSIDE.

Pa went inside, ringing the bell above the door. The cashier, buried in a magazine titled: Drought, Is It Aliens Or Aardvarks?, rung him up for gas, as well as a few candy bars.

Pa stopped, one foot from the threshold. His skin prickled, but he pushed it aside, and left the station, the bell dinging behind him. A shadow fell into place beside him.

“Do you have a five? I need a pack of cigarettes.” Pa sighed, slipped a bill out of his beat up wallet, and handed it to the voice’s owner. The man went inside, bought his cigarettes, then returned. He looked at Pa expectantly.

“You need to learn to say no.” Said the stranger. Pa blinked.

“What business is it of yours?” He hoped he didn’t sound rude. He did just buy the man his cigarettes after all.

“None at all,” the other man said amicably. He flicked his lighter, the tip glowing before he said, “You didn’t happen to want change back, did you?”

‘Yes,’ Pa thought, but decided to try something different. “No.”

The man hummed. “D’you happen to be a Capricorn?”

“No,” Pa said, wondering why he thought of that brown cone bursting with produce that decorated Thanksgiving tables in pictures. “I don’t believe so.”

Pa Crow was born on a certain day of a certain year, under a certain astrological sign that may or may not have actually fit personality wise, since he didn’t actually know what day he was born. In short, he didn’t believe in astrology, and he didn’t care much to learn.

“A Virgo then?” The man asked.

“No.”

“Leo?”

Pa smiled.

I’m also debating on turning this really dramatic wip I wrote years ago about Jack the Ripper, theater, and multiple personalities into a musical.

Anyway, these are a few of my wips, I don’t want to flood your blogs with a long post on all of them.

#My writing

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1000-directions · 5 years ago

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dear steph, have you found a decent range of pumpkin flavoured goods at the grocery yet? also last week you mentioned some apple cider flavoured cookies, is this different from apple flavoured? thank you :)

WELL. the short answer is no. but here is a list of every pumpkin flavored thing i have consumed so far in the past month:

starbucks pumpkin spice latte - reliable, spicy, perfect, a classic

starbucks pumpkin cream cold brew - this is so fucking good and satisfying that it’s ruining my bank account

starbucks pumpkin spice frappuccino - it’s been so hot lately that i haven’t been able to indulge in hot lattes to the level that i would prefer. this was a one-time splurge because it was very very hot but i was very very desperate for some pumpkiny spicy goodness

pumpkin pie from costco - my mom bought a huge-ass pumpkin pie from costco and gave me a few slices and it was perfectly fine! can’t go wrong with pumpkin pie! smooshy and spicy, nothing wrong with that!

pumpkin iced coffee from dunkin - always a solid bet if you want pumpkin coffee but don’t want to pay starbucks prices

pumpkin donut from dunkin - there are two good flavors of donut at dunkin. one is blueberry, and the other is pumpkin, and it is pumpkin season!!!!!!!! (note: this is the point where the word ‘pumpkin’ has lost all meaning to me and looks like a fake word, like it’s supposed to be an -ing verb and i forgot the g)

pumpkin nonfat greek yogurt from trader joe’s - i’ll be honest, i was hoping this would be better. i bought two of them, and i’m not sure how i feel about having to eat the other one. might need some crumbled up cookies or granola or just a little something to give it some texture, but i found it lacking.

pumpkin ginger hold the cone from trader joe’s - genuinely one of the best pumpkin creations in the history of gourds. i was so fucking excited when i saw them in the freezer case. they are mini ginger-flavored ice cream cones filled with pumpkin ice cream, and they are perfect and beautiful. there were two boxes left in the store, and i bought them both.

pumpkin pie rice krispy treats - someone from work brought in a box of these because they didn’t like them, and everyone else at work also does not like them, but i think they’re fine? certainly not the first pumpkin-flavored confectionary on my list, and i didn’t think they even had a particularly distinctive taste, but i found them edible and pleasant.

pumpkin cheesecake ice cream by ben and jerry’s - GOOD AS HELL. pumpkiny and so smooth and creamy with a nice hit of graham cracker swirl. delightful.

pumpkin pecan cheesecake from cheesecake factory - listen we don’t have time to get into how much i love the goddamn cheesecake factory, but i think we can all agree that there is no such thing as a bad cheesecake from this hallowed restaurant, and this one is great. pecan pie on the bottom, smooth pumpkiny cheesecake on top, put it in my mouth!!

anyway, as disappointed as i was by trader joe’s cookie offerings, the apple cider cookies are actually pretty good. the apple flavor is present but subtle, and there are nice hits of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and allspice, and that is what autumn is all about!

#asks #food cw #pumpkin #thanks for always asking the important questions i love you #jamila #dearmrsawyer

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ua-monoma · 6 years ago

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I have returned! *Smiles and holds up two spoons in one hand and a blue plastic bag filled with ice cream in the other.* I didn't know which kind, so I bought all my favorites! *Hands over the Chocolate milkshake truffle with marshmallow swirls. * This ones my favorite! Hopefully you like it! I also got mint chocolate chip, birthday cake and butter pecan. *gives a spoon and smiles.* Did you know, eating chocolate ice cream raises your happiness levels by 60%?? ~♡Anon/Kayla

Oh!!! This is a lot of ice cream, hahaha… Guess we’re feasting like kings tonight, huh? [Cheerfully takes the spoon before starting to inspect the ice cream in his hands.] Oh? 60 whole percent? That’s very impressive, heheheh

#kayla #anonymous #ask tag

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zyrolli · 2 years ago

Text

Root beer float

#Root beer float full#

Just swirl the rim of a mason jar in melted chocolate, use your finger to evenly coat the rim and then sprinkle with sea salt! Every time you take a sip of your float you get some rich dark chocolate with a little ‘bite’ of sea salt! I told you this float would be extraordinary. I highly recommend using a gourmet root beer made without. If you really want a mind blowingly awesome float, take it to the next level by serving your float in a mason jar with a chocolate rim sprinkled with sea salt! Root beer floats are usually pretty straight forward, two ingredients root beer and ice cream. I love homemade and have a Salted Caramel Pecan No Churn Ice Cream or vanilla bean with chocolate covered almonds, mini peanut butter cups, or chocolate chips that I think you will love! Of course you can use your favorite store bought as well.

#Root beer float full#

I am a big fan of creamy, rich, full fat ice cream. It truly makes a big difference! There are several gourmet brands out there these days with notes of sweet vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg, even ginger! Experiment and see what you like best! I highly recommend using a gourmet root beer made without corn syrup. Root beer floats are usually pretty straight forward, two ingredients root beer and ice cream. So how does one make a truly extraordinary root beer float? A float so delicious and unique that you have never tasted anything quite like it? Well, You use a gourmet root beer and lace your glass with rich dark chocolate and a ‘bite’ of sea salt… How to Make a “Not Your Mama’s Root Beer Float” I may make a commission from sales but your price remains the same.) I believe a treat should be just that- something rare and truly special and when you decide to treat yourself, you should do it right! Take the Root Beer Float for instance, it’s a very simple dessert, but with superb ingredients and a little twist on presentation you can make it truly extraordinary! You may have noticed that I only post dessert recipes about once a month.

#Root beer float

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tbehartoo · 7 years ago

Text

Christmas Cookies and Cuddling

for @inklizard and the Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa

Characters: Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Alya Cesaire

Rating: General

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Marinette and Alya have spent all day baking and decorating cookies now it’s time to watch Christmas movies and enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Word Count: 2507

On AO3

The holidays had arrived and Alya was discovering first hand just how obsessed Marinette was with her Yuletide traditions. For instance, a tree had appeared in the living room on the first day of December and Alya was pretty sure that Marinette had been adding to the decorations adorning it every day since then. Evergreen boughs and garland twined with bright ribbons and bows now draped across every horizontal surface adding their pine scent to the cinnamon, clove, and orange aromas that constantly wafted from the kitchen. The tiny table, next to the front door, now had a display of candles, greenery, glittery objects, and wooden letters spelling out Joyeux Noël. There was even a small crèche in pride of place on the coffee table. Alya had sort of expected most of it. Marinette was a designer and the holidays gave her a chance to show off her skills, but there was one thing she hadn’t counted on- the baking!

Alya thought her friend had a problem and needed an intervention. However, the results of Marinette’s addiction were delicious and comforting so she was willing to let it slide, at first. Marinette’s growing up as the only child of two talented bakers was never more evident than when she was preparing for Christmas. Sweet rolls, croissants, and galettes daily greeted Alya when she got up in the mornings. Evenings often found Marinette making dinner rolls or crusty baguettes. There was honestly more than the two of them could eat before it went bad, so both of them were liberally sharing with their neighbors and taking extras into work.

Knowing the situation at home, it was everything Alya could do to not start screaming and stabbing at Rose with a spoon when their former schoolmate had suggested a cookie exchange while a few of them were together at lunch. Juleka had readily agreed. Alix texted that she would come eat and promised NOT to bake anything, for which they were all grateful. Nino found the idea hilarious and promised that he would be sure to make Adrien and Nathaniel attend as well. Before Alya could even suggest that a cookie exchange wasn’t the best idea, Marinette had offered their apartment as the meeting place and sent out invitations to the rest of the class. When Nino made a comment about how relaxing he found baking cookies to be, Alya made sure to kick his ankle under the table. Nino merely laughed.

“You know, Mari, the whole thing about a cookie exchange is that other people bring cookies, too. We don’t have to provide a different kind of cookie for everyone that’s coming tomorrow.”

Marinette looked up from where she was frosting a snowflake with a light blue royal icing. “Oooh, now there’s a good idea.”

“No! No it’s not a good idea,” Alya said as she pulled the final batch of orange ricotta cookies from the oven to put them on the rack to cool. “We probably already have that now and we don’t need to be making any more cookies!” She turned to face the “Mad Baker” as she had dubbed Marinette and crossed her arms. “I refuse to let you bake one more cookie in this kitchen until after the New Year.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Marinette replied as she stuck out her tongue.

“Well this month I’m paying the electric and gas bill so I am the boss of this kitchen.” She swiped a chocolate chip cookies from the “too ugly for Marinette to allow it to be seen” tin and bit into it. “No more cookies!”

“Come sit by me and decorate some gingerbread women,” Marinette said as she gestured to the seat next to her at the table. “You know that always makes you feel better.”

She flounced over to the chair and sat down. “Fine, but you don’t get to make fun of my lack of decorating skill.”

“It’s a deal,” Marinette said as she put a dollop of her frosting on the cookie in front of Alya.

They had been baking for two days. Two Days! Alya felt like her life had been nothing but measuring, mixing, and then washing dishes as Marinette did whatever voodoo it was she had to do with each dough. Right now there were great big plastic tubs of sables, shortbread bites, gingerbread, and meringue wreaths on the table waiting to be decorated. The chocolate crinkles, Russian tea cakes, madeleines, and eggnog snickerdoodles were safely stored as they didn’t need any additional decoration. The shot glass cookies, pecan lace, and chocolate chip turtles were in the fridge so their chocolate could cool. The last cookies they’d baked, the orange ricotta ones, still needed to cool before the orange glaze could be poured over them, but at least that would be simple and easy. Alya was looking forward to decorating the sugar cookies since they were planning to brûlée the tops, which meant she got to use a torch, but still...this was ridiculous!

The next few hours, as they decorated, the topic of conversation flowed in a variety of directions.

…..

“Mari, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie!”

“It totally is!” she said seriously. “We have to watch it Alya!”

“Maybe so, but it’s NOT a Christmas movie.”

…..

“Oh here Alya, this one has a star tip to make those swirly roses you like.”

“Show me how to make them again?”

“Here, hold it like this,” Marinette arranged the plastic bag filled with frosting in her hands then placed her own over them. “Now a gentle squeeze and swirl at the same time. Et voilà, a perfect rose!”

“You make it look so easy,” she moaned.

“You do a couple million of them and it’ll be easy for you, too.”

…..

“I refuse to watch any Christmas claymation that doesn’t feature Sally trying to sabotage Jack Skellington’s bid to take over Christmas Town, Mari.”

“But Rudolph and Bumble-”

“Who?”

“Bumble! The abominable snowman? How do you not know who that is? Your knowledge of slightly terrifying and so horrible they’re awesome Christmas movies is severely lacking, Alya.”

“I still veto it.”

Mari pretended to pout. “Spoilsport!”

…..

“I thought we bought those red licorice threads to make bows for the wreaths,” Alya said as she looked through the bags and cupboards, “I can’t find them anywhere.”

Marinette didn’t say anything, which was suspicious.

“Mari...What have you done?”

“I, uh, had a bite of one,” she admitted.

“And where’s the rest?”

She ducked her head and refused to look Alya in the eye. “They might be, um, gone,” she whispered.

Alya broke out laughing. “Mari we are surrounded by sweet things and you had to eat the only decoration we had for those cookies?”

“It actually smelled really good,” she whimpered. “And once I started I couldn’t stop!”

Alya looked through all the candy supplies they’d bought. “What about putting on some of these little, red cinnamon imperials?”

Marinette thought about it. “Let’s see how they taste together.”

They split one of the meringue wreaths in half and each tasted the cookie with the candy.

Alya shook her head. “The cinnamon is too strong.”

Marinette agreed. “I guess I better whip up another batch of red frosting.”

“Better you than me,” Alya said as she turned back to the stack of cookies in front of her.

…..

“Ugh,” Alya said as she stood up and stretched. “I am all cookied out.”

Marinette laid down the piping bag she was holding and stretched her head from shoulder to shoulder. “Me, too.” She looked around. Every flat surface was covered with frosted cookies waiting for their decorations to dry. There were still a few that hadn’t received any kind of adornment, but not as many as she had thought there would be by this time tonight.

“How about we pack up everything that’s done, put some plastic wrap over anything that isn’t, and then start our movie?” Marinette suggested.

“Sound good to me,” Alya said as she grinned and shook out her hands. “What about all the frosting? Icing? Whatever.”

Marinette chuckled and started sorting through the bowls and piping bags. Anything that was nearly done she put to one side to wash up and everything else was taken out of it’s piping bags, covered with plastic wrap, and put into the fridge.

They both carefully packed away everything that could safely be moved and draped plastic cling film over anything that couldn’t. Then took a look around.

“How would you feel about ordering in some Chinese food before we start the movie?” Marinette asked. “I need something with some green veggies and protein.”

“Sounds heavenly,” Alya said. “Are you gonna call or should I?”

“I’ll call,” Marinette said as she reached for her phone. “Do you wanna set up the movie?”

Alya nodded since Marinette had just started speaking into the phone. It wouldn’t take long, as soon as they knew it was them calling the restaurant would have their usual order started. She went into their room and pulled all of the extra blankets from the closet and took them back. She dumped the blankets on the couch and started to remove the throw pillows from the sofa onto the floor. They used to start on the couch, but they always ended up sitting on the floor, so now they just started on the floor. Alya arranged the pillows and blankets into a cozy nest, turned on the TV, selected “It’s a Wonderful Life”, then went and grabbed a certain package from under the Christmas tree.

“Food will be here in half an hour. Probably less since they’re right down the street,” Marinette said as she came over to inspect Alya’s handiwork.

“Oh good,” Alya thrust the present in her direction. “You need to open this tonight. It’s too good to miss the opportunity.”

“Alya, we’re not supposed to be opening presents, yet.”

“Please?” Alya turned on her best baby doll eyes. “It is too perfect.” She put the wrapped box in Marinette’s hands. “For me?” She batted her eyelashes melodramatically.

Marinette tried staring her down, but lost it after a moment. “Okay, okay turn off the puppy dog eyes,” she giggled. “I’ll open it.”

“Yay!”

“But if I’m opening one then so are you!” Marinette went to the tree and pulled out a package wrapped in orange plaid with a golden bow. “Here!”

“You go first,” Alya insisted.

“No, you.”

“No, you!”

“No, YOU!”

There was another brief staring contest.

“Same time?” Marinette offered. Alya nodded. “One… two… THREE!”

They both tore into their presents dropping wrapping paper, ribbons, and tissue paper in their eagerness to get to their gift. There was that brief moment where understanding of what is being seen was processed, and both burst out laughing. They had each chosen a set of footie pajamas for the other.

Marinette had taken the time to sew a fox themed suit for Alya as the crafty and sly animal was one of Alya’s favorite emblems. She was a little more confused at Alya’s choice for her.

“Alya, why did you get me pajamas that’ll make me look like a gingerbread man?”

“I have my reasons,” she said with a wink. “Let’s get changed!”

“You change in the room, I’ll change in the bathroom and then we both jump out at the same time.”

Alya grinned in agreement and rushed to the room. She cackled in delight when she zipped up the soft, warm pajamas and watched the tail swish pleasantly in the mirror behind the door. Marinette really knew how to accentuate a girl’s figure, she’d certainly give her that.

“Are you ready?” the muffled yell came from across the hall.

“Yes!”

This time Alya did the countdown. “One… two… three!”

The doors were thrown open and they both took a moment to enjoy the view.

“You look as fabulous as I imagined,” Marinette said huskily.

“Thank you,” Alya said with a blush. Most things she could handle but not Marinette looking at her like that. “You look very...cookie like.”

Marinette giggled. “You look like you want to take a bite out of me.”

Alya crossed the hall in two steps and encircled her with her arms. “Are you offering?” she murmured in her ear.

“Aren’t you tired of sweets by now?” Marinette whispered as she nuzzled Alya’s neck.

“I am never tired of you, Mari.”

They were about to get down to some serious canoodling but the doorbell rang.

Marinette raced to answer the door while Alya went to her purse for money. She was handing their usual delivery guy a couple of €20 notes, when Marinette returned to the door with a zip top bag filled with cookies.

“Here Louis,” she said as she handed it to him, “please take a few Christmas cookies with you.”

The boy laughed. “That’s more than a few Mademoiselle Mari.”

“We’ve got more than we need,” Alya deadpanned. “Please take them.”

Louis thanked them and wished them a Merry Christmas before he left.

“He’s a nice kid,” Mari said as they headed back to the coffee table where she had deposited their food.

“He is,” Alya agreed.

“So are you ready for classic Christmas movies and Chinese food?”

“More than ready,” she declared as she grabbed the remote to start the film. As she sat next to Marinette she gave her a nudge with her shoulder, “This truly is a wonderful life.”

Marinette’s eyes sparkled in the darkness as the light from the television lit her face. “It really is.”

They were still watching the movie but the food was finished and the coffee table moved aside so the manger scene wouldn’t obstruct their view.

“Alya?” Marinette asked as she curled up with her under the blanket.

“Mmm-” Alya let her know she was listening.

“Are you going to tell me why you chose these particular pajamas for me?”

Alya chuckled. “A couple of weeks ago you left your sketchbook open and I happened to see what you were working on.”

“Translation, you were snooping to see if you could figure out what your presents would be,” Marinette interrupted affectionately.

“Yes, exactly,” she agreed. “And, well, I saw what you were going to make and I thought of an old folk tale, so I went looking for these PJ’s. I had to take to the internet, but I finally found them for you.”

“What old folk tale Alya?”

“The Gingerbread man,” she said with a grin, “You know…“Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me I’m the gingerbread man”? It was absolutely perfect.”

“And why is that?” Marinette had a suspicion, but wanted to hear Alya say it.

“Because,” she said as she looked deep into Marinette’s lovely blue eyes, “After all of those people and things chased him,” she paused for dramatic effect, “it was the fox that got the treat in the end.”

And with that Alya started to enjoy her favorite Christmas cookie.

@mlsecretsanta for ML Secret Santa 2017

#mlsecretsanta 2k17 Miraculous Ladybug Alya x Marinette

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