#i feel like the store microwave ones always disappoint me

[weedlovingweed]

game changer... i made breakfast burritos to freeze yesterday and am having one right now.... it is DELICIOUS...

i was worried about the reheating sitch (partly because theyre kind of massive lmao) but 30 mins in oven... and it is soooooo good....

they are scrampled egg, black beans, spiced homefries, cheese, & a cashew queso... + these huge chipotle sized burrito tortillas.... i only made 3 but i will be making a like. week long supply next time.

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[moodystudynoodle]

Day 3 of my Study-Diary + Tricks for my ADHD folks🌻

Hello dear people on Tumblr,

This is my third entry on this blog. And I can proudly say that I managed to study on this day too. 😊 Here is the proof:

Honestly this Study Diary really works for me. I feel a lot more pressure to study, so that I don't disappoint others 😅 Wich brings me to my next train of thought.

Since I started this blog I thought a lot and hard about wich things I do that makes my life with ADHD a bit easier, and wich one of them could be of use for others.

And now I would like to share some of them, in the hopes that they might help you too:

• Use Timers and Clocks: I mentioned this in my last post. But, I really cannot stress this enough. Use Timers and Clocks. Make sure to always know what time it is. It is crucial, so that your day doesn't vanish in a blink of an eye. Doesn't matter what you do, if you cook, clean, study etc. Your eyes needs to know the time!

•Use Sticky Notes, Calendars and To-do Lists: My brain works like this : "Out of sight out of mind". This most of the time makes me forget things like doing laundry, calling friends or checking up on my plants for example 👀 It is crucial to see your tasks in bright colours around you. Sometimes I even ask people to remind me of stuff, or set reminders on my calendar. So that I don't forget my appointments.

• Professor Barkley: Not a Trick per se. But he really helped me to understand this condition and to work with it.

Here is the link:

• Find easy Foodoptions: What I mean with that, is to find maybe pre prepared meals in your grocery store that are at least mildly healthy. Or maybe cook on the days where you are highly motivated a bit more and put that in the freezer. I often lack the energy and brainpower to cook myself something. So to just being able to shove something in the oven and microwave can be a blessing. (I think I will share some easy recipe ideas in the next diary entry)

So I am going to end this entry here. Wish everyone a lovely day, and thank you very much for your time and reading this. 🌻🌱🐑🩷

Love and peace

[fizzingwizard]

A few months ago I was complaining to my mom that family restaurants and other cheaper food places here had gone all fat all the time. Everything is fried, everything is meat-based. Hard to find any vegetables at all on a lot of the most common menus.

The yen tanking and issues related to covid-19 and the Russia-Ukraine war really drove places to cut back, increase prices while offering less overall. But the absence of vegetables was stunning to me. Talk to anyone, in Japan or out, and they'll say oh, the Japanese diet is so healthy. And even though we're talking about eating out, which is considered special and you don't necessarily expect the same dishes you'd make at home, people would really be surprised, I think, by how hard it was just to find even veggie sides. (This is restricted to the cheaper places, especially chain restaurants that like to keep costs low - if you go out to eat at a real restaurant-y restaurant in Japan I feel confident that you'll never be disappointed.) Japanese food is about color and balance, and for a very long time that extended to youshoku as well. That's one reason why when you go out for something like tonkatsu, you always get cabbage, and probably miso soup and Japanese pickles as well.

A few years before covid, I feel, is when I started to see things change. Maybe the expectation of so many foreigner tastes arriving for the Olympics played a part too, idk. But I remember Yoshinoya, a fast food gyudon chain, used to have a delicious curry with carrots, onions, and potatos - cheap vegetables commonly found in Japanese curry. Then they got rid of it and have just the roux with meat now. And most places that do takeout curry are the same these days. One exception is Matsuya, which now has a "My Curry" off-shoot that lets you customize with veggie options. A while ago they were doing a veggie-heavy curry that I loved, but was only seasonal :( Probably because of the price of vegetables. But at least the usual onion/potato/carrot seems here to stay. But even curry-centric places like Cocoichi don't do much with veggies. Cocoichi's veggie curry is like a kid's curry, bits of carrot, potato, and green beans. There's a spinach option and an eggplant option too, but to me they're still just so uninspired. I don't really like Cocoichi curry though so that's probably part of it. It's a shame because curry is a GREAT way to get kids (and adults who've never developed a taste for veggies) not just to eat veggies, but to learn to like them. It worked for me - I definitely wish my parents knew about the magic of curry when I was little, because I don't really blame my younger self for getting sick of microwaved frozen cauliflower and baby carrots.

Anyway - all that to say, recently I've been noticing veggies making a comeback! Yoshinoya didn't bring back it's veggie curry, but it's got some salad options, including a gyudon that comes with veggies mixed in. (Which I might try tonight.) I've been noticing it other places too, especially convenience stores. Lawson and 7-11 have been boasting about their healthy options for years, but these past months I feel that I've begun to see variety and thought for nutrition that was pretty absent before. I wonder if prices for vegetables have gone down, or if restaurants just noticed that everyone was selling the same brown or beige food options with very little flavor differences. I'm happy, because it felt like a pretty important part of Japanese food culture was wasting away, and it's such a healthy and pretty to look at part. Yeah, it was just the chain restaurants, but the loss starts when major groups of people get priced out of values that used to be available to all. I hope Japanese food, whether it's traditional or Western, continues to value balance and color no matter how many people insist they really just want red meat and fried stuff.

[cherrypeaking]

hi cherry~~ :3 i wasn't able to make it to the bakery today to try the eclairs nor was i able to get the ice cream or snacks i was looking for BUT i did get to visit an italian deli with my mom today!!

it was soo nice~ i ended up getting a sandwich along with a loaf of sourdough bread (i was so convinced that i wouldn't like it since i've never liked sourdough but it was so good!!), some spinach artichoke dip, and some other stuff :> (you'll see in the video i've hopefully sent by now hehe)

the sandwich i got had gravy and i told the guy to put the gravy on the sandwich instead of on the side, and it was so... soggy :( like i was so disappointed i couldn't finish it bc the mouth-feel was an absolute nightmare 🤢 it was like eating a soggy dish sponge >< not the biggest fan... the sourdough bread with the spinach artichoke dip was so good though!

i was so impressed seeing things like fresh pasta sold in the refrigerator aisle. do grocery stores in your area have things like that?? i've never seen such a thing before! the only kind of pasta i've seen sold in stores is the dry kind they sell in a box :o

today was fun but it really had me feeling like someone ran me over (probably bc i was sitting in the hot sun for 40 minutes waiting for my ride home 😭😭😭) but it's always a relief to come back home from days like these and talk to you~ you really are such a comforting presence, my love <3

i hope you slept well baby 🥺🩵 and i hope the ice cream you got today was super good!! just now realizing we talk about food a lot dhjshg but there's no harm in that, not when it's one of the many ways we can feel connected to each other 🥺🥺 i'm missing you a lot right now, i'll be working on my teleportation skills so we can finally see each other >< 🩵🩷 and i can cuddle you and bite you like i've always been wanting to >:3

can't wait to talk again soon!! i love you so so much~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

mommyyyy omg!! i watched your video before getting to the ask so now i know what the other stuff was and i’m so glad you liked it (despite the sogginess of the sandwich ugh >_<) 🩷🩷 and you looked so 🥺🥺😭🩷🩷

i’ve never had sourdough bread before i think… and i don’t really like artichoke so i don’t know if i’d like the dip but who knows 🥹 i tend to be pretty… obvious when i taste something and end up not liking it 😳😖

wait they sell fresh pasta?? oh no i’ve only heard of the hard one just like you in a box i think… like you gotta microwave it… 🤔

mommy i hate that it was so hot yesterday ;///; the only hot one is you 😖🩷 why is spring basically over already 😭😭😭 i’m glad you got home safely and didn’t get a headache 🥺

you’re such a comforting presence for me too my love 🥺🥺😚🩷 i missed you a lot too 🥺🥺 so the ice cream was nice!! but i’m pretty sure the one i initially wanted would’ve been even better fhdbfbdb ehh it’s okay >_< true we do talk a lot about food but can’t help it food is life!! 😭😭

i love you so much mommy the pictures are so cute tyunning are the cutest and so are the little bears… as cute as you my love 🥺😚🩷🩷

[bensolosbluesaber]

Baking Lessons (Marc Spector x f!Reader) 18+

Summary: Marc Spector can’t bake, but for you he’ll try. You and Marc bake cookies together... among other things.

Angst, fluff, smut (the big three)

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!reader, hint of Jake Lockley and Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: Sad Marc, DID, Oral sex (f receiving), Not edited

A/N: I just think Marc needs some more love, and I’ve been baking to deal with stress. I’m still working on requests, so if you’re waiting for one, it is coming!

--

Marc Spector has no idea what he’s doing. There’s an egg about to roll off the counter, and he reaches out and catches it with the instincts of a superhero.

Because that’s what he is - a superhero not a baker. Except that for you he’ll be anyone, do anything. That includes telling Khonshu to fuck off for the night so he can bake chocolate chip cookies and try to have a nice date with you. You who have been talking about these stupid cookies all week but have had no time to make them.

He sighs and returns the egg to it’s container. This is useless. He wanted to do something nice for you, but all he’s accomplished is making three trips to the store.

“Just fuck. That always goes over well.”

“Jake, mate,” Steven sighs. “He’s trying to be romantic, considerate, show his love.”

Marc ignores their squabbling, turning back to the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. Flour, salt, butter. No milk. Why the hell does he have milk out then? He picks up the carton and fixes it with a harsh stare like it’s the milk’s fault for messing this all up.

That is how you find Marc when you come home. You walk into the kitchen and sit on the table, legs dangling in the air while you watch Marc stare down a carton of milk.

“What did it do?” You ask when you realize he hasn’t noticed you.

He turns, and his eyes glow with moonlight for the briefest instant before he realizes it’s just you. His harsh, irritated expression turns into something else as he looks you up and down.

“You’re early,” he mutters.

“It’s five-thirty,” you reply with a laugh; it’s the same time you always get home.

He glances at the clock, “Shit!”

You’re still trying to figure out what emotion he’s wearing as he returns the milk to the fridge and runs his hands through his curly hair. Frustration. Maybe a hint of sadness. Disappointment, but with who? Knowing Marc, probably himself.

“Marc,” any hint of humor is gone. “Are you alright?”

“I’m-” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze catches the bag of chocolate chips behind him, something you know for a fact was not in your apartment prior to today. You know because you had searched for them desperately for days and craving chocolate chip cookies more than anything in the world for the last week. Marc follows your gaze, and when you meet his eyes the words come spilling from his mouth.

“I wanted to make you these stupid cookies. You talk about them every night, and you’re always doing so much for us, for me, and- and I wanted to do something for you.”

Marc’s lips are falling into that little frown that means he’s about to cry. This isn’t about chocolate chip cookies or Marc’s lack of cooking skills, you know that. Marc isn’t the type of man to be driven to tears by a failed baking experiment. He is the type of man who feels like he can never be enough, never be good enough for the people he loves. 

Marc is glancing at the reflective surface of the microwave; you know he is trying to get Steven, or maybe Jake, to front right now.

“Marc,” you reach for his hand and pull him close to you.

Before you can utter another word, he buries his face in your neck. His arms circle your waist, holding tightly. He is shaking, crying. Only a few times have you seen him this vulnerable, and each time Marc had made Steven front to avoid this exact situation.

You wrap an arm over his shoulder and run your free hand through his soft curls.

“You do so much,” you murmur. “It means a lot that you thought of me.”

He holds you tighter but doesn’t respond. His body is warm against you as he cries, and you can only stroke his hair, sometimes brushing your fingers across his cheek or jaw. The soft press of his lips to your neck makes you shiver. It tickles. He does it again, then again, then leans back. A few tears are running down his face, and you reach out to brush them off. You hold his face between your hands, but he’s not looking at you.

“You are enough, Marc Spector. I love you, and you are enough.”

“I really tried,” he eventually whispers and looks up at you through his lashes.

You move a stray curl from his eyes and kiss his forehead, kiss his nose, kiss his lips. His cheek, his jaw, the lines around his eyes. You pepper kisses everywhere, the best way you know to show this man love, until he grabs your face and kisses you with a bruising intensity. Marc works his lips against yours, molding your bodies together until you’re both panting and he pulls back. His hands rest on your hips, your hands on his chest.

“You’re wonderful,” he smiles, and though his eyes are still red-rimmed, you can tell he’s back from that dark place of self-hatred. “I love you.”

The curl is back, the dark hair always falling across his forehead no matter what he does. Cookie ingredients are still spread out on the counter behind him, and though you would love to take this handsome man to bed right now and spend the rest of the evening tangled up with him, the temptation of the cookies is too strong.

“I can teach you how to make them,” you nod to the ingredients. “We can do it together.”

Marc slides you off the table and kisses you on top of the head.

“Okay. Teach me.”

You set Marc up measuring dry ingredients into a bowl while you pour sugar and crack eggs. You laugh when he bumps his hip into the counter, swears, spills the bag of flour everywhere.

“You think that’s funny,” he growls, eyes shining with amusement; he loves how you laugh.

“I though you’d be more graceful, Moon Knight,” you tease, grinning.

Mischief flashes across his face, and he grasps a fistful of spilled flour. You jump back, but he smears flour across your face, spilling it down the front of your shirt.

“Marc!” You protest, but it is half-hearted.

Any further arguments are cut off by his kiss. His dirty hands leave prints all over your body as he presses you into the counter, peppering your face with soft kisses until he finds your lips. If not for the beep of the oven you would have kissed Marc Spector all night. He leans back at the sound, and you duck under his arm to get back to baking.

Marc slides up behind you, holding you around the waist with his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you work. He kisses your cheek each time you move, and when it’s time he adds ingredients to your bowl as you stir, his arms still trapping you against the counter.

“Chocolate chips,” you request.

Reluctantly, Marc moves away to find the package of chocolate and adds it to the dough. His dark hair is now smeared with flour, so is his face and his clothes. You’re probably no better off, but seeing the usually tough man covered in baking ingredients and wearing a goofy grin makes your heart flutter.

“Now what?” Marc asks.

There’s no cookie scoop in the apartment, so you hand him a small spoon. You show him how to scoop the dough and roll it into a ball. As you slide the cookies into the oven and set a timer, you notice Marc starting to take the bowl to the sink.

“Wait!” You call.

He turns back to you with that one eyebrow curved up.

“We’re supposed to eat that.”

“The raw cookie dough?” He questions.

You nod and pluck the bowl from his hands, scooping out a bit with your spoon, and popping it in your mouth with an innocent smile. He is fixated on your lips.

“Focus, Spector,” you tease; you’re fully aware of what thoughts you have evoked in your boyfriend as you offer him the spoon. “Cookie dough?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” his voice has dropped to a low rumble as he smirks down at you.

If his earlier softness went right to your heart, this goes right to your pussy.

“There’s only seven minutes on the timer,” you warn.

“I can work with that,” he grabs the bowl from your hand and tosses it onto the counter. “Bed.”

Marc has you out of your pants and flat on your back in seconds. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so your legs dangle over the edge, and he kneels between them. His eyes are dark as he palms your thighs, his breath tickling your center as he looks to you for confirmation, consent.

You nod, and just like that Marc buries his face in your cunt. He’s licking and sucking, using his tongue with a skill that always shocks you. His broad nose brushes against your clit, and for a second you’re distracted by the question of how he breathes when he’s going down on you. It’s just for a second because a moment later his tongue is flicking at your clit, drawing delightful little circles that have you squirming.

Marc is absolutely smirking as you meet his eyes and a soft breathy sound escapes your throat unbidden. Warmth coils in your stomach as he devours you like he is a starving man. You’re so close. He leaves one hand at your thigh, keeping your legs apart, and uses the other to push two fingers into you with a slowness that is borderline torturous.

“Fuck,” you whimper and reach for his hair, getting a handful of those soft dark locks much to Marc’s delight.

He curls his fingers and presses deeply into you even as his mouth settles over that spot you love. You can feel that tension building and building, warmth pooling in your stomach. 

There’s a roaring in your ears as you cum, throwing your head back, shutting your eyes, twitching around his fingers and moaning his name quietly, your whole body shaking as that warmth spreads out from your center. He fucks you right through it, only pulling back when the pulsing has stopped and you begin to squirm away from the over-stimulation. 

The timer beeps just as he sits back. Timer? Shit. You’d forgotten about the cookies.

“I got ‘em,” Marc presses a kiss to your inner thigh and stands while you simply lay back and catch your breath.

Water runs. The oven door opens. The stove beeps. A few seconds later, Marc flops heavily into bed. You peek your eyes open to look at him. He has a cookie broken in half, offering part to you. You turn on your side to look at Marc, taking the cookie but really focused on the former mercenary whose eyes are wide with delight as he bites into the desert, chocolate smearing his lips as he chews.

You would stop the Earth from spinning to see that look on Marc’s face again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He finally notices your expression.

“You have chocolate,” you answer awkwardly to evade the question and gesture to his lips.

His smile is mischievous as he leans forward, kissing your cheek and leaving a chocolate stain on your skin.

“Marc!”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He repeats the question.

“You look happy,” you whisper.

He pushes you onto your back and tucks his head into your shoulder, smiling against you.

“I am happy.”

--

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Let me know if you want added!

[cherryskyies]

The slashers reacting to their s/o passing out.

This was requested by anon!

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Pennywise, and Ghostface!!

“I was wondering if I can have hcs with Michael, Jason, Freddy, Pennywise and Ghost face reacting to their female!s/o passing out? Thank you”

I hope you and everyone else who reads this enjoys it!

Warnings: Suggestive nsfw with Michael. Not any actual nsfw though.

Main Masterlist

(Take this gif, it’s all I can offer photo wise)

Michael

Confused. One minute you were standing in the kitchen cooking dinner, Michael beside you leaning against the counter, and the next you were on the ground. I mean, honestly, he should have known you were going to pass out but he took your slow and wobbly self as the aftermath of last night (wink wOnk)

Stares at you. Michael will watch you for a second before taking any action. Once he realizes you aren’t getting up, he takes it upon himself to lift you and drag you to your shared bedroom. Michael couldn’t just leave you there, he isn’t a total monster.

Finishes cooking, kind of. This man can not cook, so instead of finishing up what you started, he takes it off the stove and stores it away for when you wake up. He might clean up a little, only if he’s feeling generous though. You were lucky he didn’t just leave you on the kitchen floor and eat some snacks while he waited for you to awake and finish dinner.

Jason

You knew what was going to happen before it actually happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve passed out, but it’s definitely the first time Jason has. You were on your way to the bathroom when the dizzy spell and black dots hit. You tried supporting yourself on the wall as you walked, hoping it would pass. Instead of it passing though, you passed out. The thump alerting Jason.

Freaks out. Jason freaks the fuck out. All he knows is one second you were getting up to use the bathroom, and now you were in front of him unresponsive and lying on the floor. Thank god for his mother though, she calmly informed him that you probably passed out, and to check your pulse and place you on the bed till you wake.

Doesn’t leave your side. For the 5 whole minutes you were knocked out, Jason didn’t leave. Hell, he almost crushed you with a hug when you did wake up. ‘You had him worried sick, (Y/N)!’ Next time, try to inform him that you feel like passing out so he doesn’t freak again.

Freddy

One of the few times he was in the real world with you. He was rarely ever in the physical world with you. Usually, he preferred when you two spent time together in his world. But sometimes you’d convince him to join you and he’d agree. This was one of those nights.

You were happily making popcorn out in the kitchen when it hit. You didn’t want to alarm Freddy or anything, thinking that it would just pass and you’d be good for the movie night you two planned. Well, you were wrong. Just as the microwave signaled for the popcorn being done, you fell. It wasn’t a long-lasting pass out, your vision cleared and you were awake once you hit the ground. That still didn’t stop Freddy from rushing in worried.

Scolded you for not telling him right away. “I may not show it as much as I’d like, but I really care about you darling and if you get injured because you didn’t tell me you felt sick or something, I might just have to keep you in the dream realm where you can’t get hurt.”

Pennywise

He was out doing his usual scaring and killing business while you were “home” cooking. The food was mainly for you as Pennywise didn’t need to eat human food. Every now and then he would eat some just to taste though. You were going for the spices when you slipped on a water pile and crashed against the floor, your head hitting against it hard causing you to pass out.

You were out for around 30 minutes, the feeling of someone shaking you awaking you. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Pennywise’s yellow ones. He was obviously worried and why? You had no clue as you were just starting to regain your senses. “Oh, hey Penny.” You greeted, to which he frowned. “Why are you on the floor, love? And why do I smell blood?”

That’s when it hit you. ‘You were cooking dinner and when you went for the spices and slipped on a water puddle.’ You groaned, the ache in the back of your head making itself known. “Haha, yeah I fell earlier when I was cooking. Sorry.”

It’s safe to say he was not impressed and contemplated banning your kitchen privileges, the only thing stopping him was you being the only one that knows how to cook.

Ghost face

You both should have seen it coming. He had scolded you multiple times today to eat, and each time you would nod and say “Yeah yeah, I will after I complete this.” You’ve just been so busy today that the thought of food totally slipped by you and he would always scold you about it when you were busy.

By the end of the night, you were finally done with work. And planning to keep your promise that you would eat something by the time he came home, you set your laptop down and got up to walk to the kitchen. Halfway to the kitchen, you felt light-headed and black dots blurred your vision. Too busy trying to stay up and walking, you didn’t hear the door open or your name get called.

Disappointed. He was disappointed, but not surprised. This wasn’t the first time (and it won’t be the last) you were too caught up in work to eat, even with the hourly scolding he’d give. This was the first time it got so bad you passed out though. Even though you were out maybe 20 seconds, he was still scared and promised he’d force-feed you soup the next time he had to tell you to eat more than once.

[keyheartsia-dorm]

The Dorm Leaders with a S/O who Burned themselves making Microwave Food

(This is definitely not something that just happened to me like 10 minutes ago but you should definitely like and subscribe and don’t forget to hit the Bell icon Cause seriously some parts of my hand Hurt like a B...Not that I burned myself or anything)

Riddle Rosehearts

• So Your feeling a Gosh dang HUNGER

• You’re too hungry to wait For Trey to bake anything So

• So Kennel Corn it is!

• In your HUNGER daze you threw the popcorn in carelessly and forget to Press the Popcorn Button and just pressed the 4 Button instead of the 3 Button like you meant to even though 3 PROBABLY would’ve Ruined Your Popcorn anyway

• You text Riddle to see if he’d wanna Share some Popcorn He said he would bring some Tarts he had just put in the oven So you waited...Thinking about Food...not noticing the disaster you were Setting into place

• Anyway you Open the Microwave Full of Hope like a Doe being born on a beautiful spring day then as soon as the black Popcorn started shooting out of your Microwave in Ramshackle you then had the same disappointment as a spring Doe who was just forced to watch Fox and the Hound Like Holy Heck that Movie gives me the Hecko Deppreso

• One Burning Kernel Hit your Cheek Just as you Wince Riddle Comes into your Kitchen With Wide eyes

• He Drags you out Picnic Basket with Tarts in Hand and Takes you to the Nurse’s Office and Asks for...whatever Burned people Need As He Patches you up you 2 Share a ~Moment~

“Riddle Honestly it’s not THAT big of a deal” You Chuckle Anxiously “Don’t be Ridiculous Y/N!” he keeps Patching you up “It Must Seriously Hurt..” He looks a little Sad and while looking sadly into your eyes he kisses your cheek where the Burn was you wince as He Quickly Spits an Apology you Chuckle “You can Kiss it better if you want~” he Looks away bright Red as you 2 Sit in the Nurse’s Office Sharing Tarts

Leona King Scholar

• “I can’t Hecking Cook!!!” you found yourself Exclaiming in the Savannaclaw Kitchen Ruffling your hair

• You see Poor F-Ing Ruggie Needs a Break that’s not a secret to anyone (# Please Stop Hyena Abuse # Please Edit A Garfield Comic Where Leona is Garfield and Ruggie is John) so you said you’d make Leona his Lunch

• why the Heck you said you’d do this you Adorable stupid Hecking Idiot you but hey you did dumb dumb

• So here you are looking in the Freezer and BINGO Big ole Meat Chunk!

• So you being A fanfic protagonist Put a giant mystery meat chunk in the microwave pressed some Buttons and said..”Eh Good enough” Guess your sex god heart throb Boyfriend Is rubbing off on you ok I see how it is Y/N OK I SEE HOW IT IS

• Anyway besides my needless aggression with my words You started to look for some utensils you found A Bento Box and a Spoon thank goodness but you figured you might Need some mittens Lunch was soon and The meat was long done but no mittens

• You take it out..and HOLY MOTHER GOD WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA YOUR PALMS MIGHT AS WELL BE ON FIRE

• Leona Nonchalantly Enters The scene cause Ruggie Told him you’d be making his Lunch and Lunch started like 15 Minutes ago

• He looks at the Scene before him and sighs and takes your hands like the sex god heartthrob he is and looks at your red palms almost Deadpanning

Your face a light red “Yeah...I know I massively Screwed up with your Lunch But I really wanted t-“ “I know And I appreciate it even though you are a massive screw up..But you keep trying I appreciate that about you” He starts to lick your Palms and your face Erupts into a Blush “What the Heck!?!” he looks up at you “It’s to cool your hands down but you ARE gonna go get me Food from the vending machine afterwards”

Azul Ashengrotto

• you slam your Hands Dramaticly on your Kitchen Table “I CANNOT ACCEPT ANYMORE FREEBIES FROM THE MONSTRO LOUNGE” You were sure Azul Would start making you pay if not Azul Jade for sure

• So time to start making Food for yourself!! You Quickly Head to a Convience store where a Certain Chaotic Neutral Eel Notices you Buying like 10 Frozen...PIECES OF FOOD

• You Dump like all off them on your Counter and Choose to make some Weird fish

• You Slap that Sorry Sucker in the Microwave and like the other Sorry Suckers in this Scenario you will Burn yourself and beautiful Bishounen Shenanigans will ensue but we’re not there yet

• You literally just bought a piece of not even normal looking fish Of course it didn’t come with a Time Recommendation So you while staring at it for like 10 minutes (Letting it thaw quite a bit but you didn’t notice) You threw it in for 7 And figured “eh 7’s a lucky number this’ll work” Didn’t you read Leona’s Scenario? What happened when THEY said Eh

• You Dumby You Dating a Merman Boughta Eat a fish Dumbo what do you have? Ears?

• Anyway Floyd and And Azul are Chatting well it’s more like Floyd is talking At Azul while he does paper work Yeah I totally Saw them Buying a bunch a Random Frozen Weird Massively Weird Right? Anyway So Apparently They Let you Mix ALL THE slushie is Flavors”

• Azul hearing this After finishing up some more Paperwork Decides to go Visit You and to his Shock he finds you Trying to hold a Basically at this point Charcoal Fish and when you drop It on your leg Leaving a SEXY weird fish shaped burn he’s Immediately on that

He puts a Hand to his Temple and sighs For a Moment before sweeping you off your feet before you could say a word..the you did say a word a few in fact “I’m Sorry Azul I know you can’t give me freebies forever but I’m a terrible cook” He Kisses your forehead and gives you a reassuring look “You’re my Beloved you can rely on me as much as you want I’ll get you some bandages when we’re back at the monstro lounge and Jade will make you something not made of Charcoal” and you bet he carried you all the way

Kalim Al Asim

• you both wanted to cook Something for Jamil...Okay this’ll go south fast.

• the road to Heck Is often Paved with Good intentions

• You Were tasked with picking out food and Kalim for Kitchen Prep

• Anyway Let’s get this poor Wreck Jamil’s gonna have to fix over with

• “I Picked out some Tofu! Smart people like tofu right?

• Kalim Tossed that And all sortsa Stuff Into the Microwave and Waved off all your concerns figuring it’ll be fine! come on Y/N you coward Your a fanfic Protag you don’t have to think Silly goose no thoughts head empty

• like 15 minutes later you 2 Hear Smoke while trying to make Pulpless Handsqueezed Orange Juice cause HECK PULP

• He Opened The Microwave and the only thing that Looked even Remotely salvageable was the tofu and because you 2 are the cutest most head empty Couple Apparently you didn’t Put a plate underneath so you braving all the danger reached into the Microwave...

“Ouch!” You teared up a little And were about to Put your finger in your mouth as you do Before Kalim put your finger in his Mouth You looked at him shell shocked after a couple seconds he started pressing light kisses on them “I’m so sorry! I should’ve thought this through more! I’ll nurse you back to health!” And For the rest of the day he essentially treated you like you were crippled he carried you he fed you everything don’t worry you slipped away for a little to clean up the mess in the kitchen before Jamil got back Kalim Babysitting is always an Experience to be Had for sure

Vil Schoenheit

• “Vil! I wanna Eat Carbs Heck you!!”

• if that’s not how Every story I do With Vil Starts I’ll be Gosh Danged

• “FINE EAT YOUR MAC AND CHEESE YOU’LL RUE THE DAY-“

• anyway after you stopped listening to him you looked him DEAD in the eyes and Shoved that frozen Mac and Cheese in the Microwave and slammed...Some Numbers In wow what a power move

• He Gasped and Power walked away

• You Laughing Manically Triumphantly

• But after awhile you felt kinda bad and decided to make some Carb free food for Vil as an Apology for Deliberatly and spitefully trying to make him Mad

• But that was the final nail in your microwaved coffin When you took out your Luckily not entirely burned Mac and Cheesies it was real hot like

• You were trying To get it to a plate Quickly And Spilled some on your Wrist Luckily Your Sexy mean Boyfriend was Here To save the day and wow he’s holding something”

“Sweet Potato?” He peeked through the Door and saw you Holding your Wrists in Pain he immediately walked in And Held them tenderly “I’m Sorry Sweet Potato things got heated I did get you a..Low Carb Meal at Olive Garden I Hope this Makes things up to you I know I can’t Control your life it’s just kinda my nature” You Smiled at him through the pain “It’s Fine Vil I got WAY too Mad I’m sorry I made you a salad” you both Enjoyed your food him feeding you yours then later he put some lotion on your Wrists

YES ITS BEST BOY-

Idia Shroud

• Omg it’s the best boy 🥺

• I mean I am not Partial to any character Do not worry I do not want to be in a Poly relationship with both Malleus and Idia

• So you wanted To Hang Out with your Boyfriend today he said sure but that he would be Busy doing raids with his Online friends you agreed and even said you’d bring snacks which you did

• Including Instant Ramen! My-I mean YOUR favorite

• you decided to show how reliable in the Kitchen you are to your boyfriend by making such a Delicacy for him while he doesn’t have the time to himself at the moment

• This is will work out Well

• You decide to do it in your kitchen and bring to him

• this will work out well

• You..ACTUALLY MAKE IT PERFECTLY

• You also Make it mostly towards his room before divine intervention Intervines and says That’s not the point of this fanfic idiot

• It probably mostly worked out for you cause you have the best taste tho so-

• Ortho Hears a Mighty Loud Catwerwhail (here’s hoping I spelled that right) and Comes to check whose outside the door

• “Big Sister/Brother?” He Quickly Runs some Water on your Shoulder and Bandages you Up And Leads you in Idia’s Room With the snacks in tow meanwhile he’s wondering if your Ok or not

“Idia Senpai!” You Sit next to him And he notices your Bandages “What Happened?” You look away a little Blushing a bit “I Spilled hot Instant Ramen on my shoulder Ortho parched me up though but! I brought the rest of the snacks though sor-“ Before you can apologize he Puts his Jacket on your shoulders “No I’m sorry for not noticing I would’ve...Tried to help” His sad expression turns into one of his Competitve smirks “I’ll Finish this Raid Boss so Quicker then you even Burned Yourself!” And He did cause he’s the best Gamer boy then you played Monoply With Him and Ortho cause he’s the best boy you have the best taste RAMEN TASTES SO GOOD-

Malleus Draconia

• My Second Love I mean nothing Let’s finish this I’ve been here since like 4 it’s 7 rn

• You invited Malleus to dinner And you wanted a Good Blanced Dinner!

• Chicken From Panda Express

• McDonald’s Chocolate Milk

• Some Patties from Burger King

• Oh Yeah Veggies!

• Wait! Everything’s Closed now!!! Y/N I KEPT TELLING YOU TO STOP BEING DUM-

• Oh you have some frozen Vegetables? Okay Touché

• You Toss them in the Microwave for 6 Minutes and get ready

• You dress as Nicely as Possible in 10 Minutes cause you plan Things Horribly apparently...not that I relete having been here for like at least 2 hours

• He’s Here~ him being Also the best boy is already setting the table with Magic cause he’s just nice like that and even Enchanted the food to be set on the table and the milk in the Glasses

• But you INSISTED to present The Vegetables

• “Child of Man I really don’t min-“ “No! I got this really!!”

• Let’s see how well that turned out for you

You got the Vegetables Outta the Microwave in such a Haste you didn’t even notice how hot it was and dumped it on the plate it wasn’t horribly burnt but was Horribly Hot Malleus was Amazed though “So Man’s Growing Vegetables in Bags now?..” he Reached to touch but you smacked his hand away so fast your hand touched the food and burned you “Ouch! I’m sorry Mal But it’s really hot” He immediately Understood and Summoned some Magical Water as he do and your burn was gone “I love you Child of man even though us Fae Can’t burn you tried to shield me anyway my sweet gentle Child of man”...Did you know that I ain’t know that?

I have a Masterlist it has all my X reader fics And my Oc Stuff I will be Adding this in like a day or 2 probably now if you’ll excuse me I never Wanna Look at another word again except also I’m literally probably gonna go read fanfic

[reidecorating]

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift. 

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :) 

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding. 

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do. 

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it. 

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request. 

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door. 

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well. 

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake. 

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :) 

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

 ∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-” 

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far. 

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way. 

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist. 

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?” 

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally  drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him. 

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,” 

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders. 

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen  at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,” 

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing,  trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud. 

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come. 

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 2]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-13/T (maybe pushing M? but there’s still nothing super explicit. this is just a lot dirtier than I usually write holy cannoli. Heavy kissing, a little bit of suggestive dialogue and narration, minor swearing?)

Original Idea: This (V1 follows this idea a lot more than this one, which I spun off of about halfway through and did my own thing)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I didn’t think this would be as long as Version 1. I was wrong. This one is ~200 words longer, at 3,491. Version 1 here. They start the exact same but change about halfway through. I wrote both of these two over the course of 1 day by the way, and refuse to pick a favorite. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

“Yeah. I had to go to two different stores to find your popcorn because they were out at the first one,” Jason replied, letting himself in and dropping his motorcycle helmet on my couch. “Let me go change into my sweats.” He pulled his grey sweatpants out of his backpack, two microwave popcorn bags falling out.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

“Get out of those jeans. You know they aren’t allowed,” I retorted before going over to the microwave. My bathroom door shut loudly. I boosted myself onto the counter and watched the popcorn spin in the microwave.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

He beamed at me. “Well, my friend, we are watching the very first ever made Frankenstein. From nineteen-thirty-one.” He fixed me with a stare as my shoulders slouched. “Don’t you start moaning in complaint. You put me through watching that awful musical last week—”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

“Maybe so, but after going through that ordeal, you promised we could watch one of my favorites. I managed not to fall asleep last week, so it’s my turn.” He stuck his tongue out at me, then shook his head. “I really need to refine your taste in theatre. Remind me to convince Bruce to give me his season tickets to the real opera. He never uses them anyway. Doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Given Bruce’s parents were shot after leaving the opera, I imagined there was some childhood trauma there. I didn’t bring it up with Jason. We didn’t talk about family besides passing comments on movie nights.

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Ever since we’d graduated college—two years ago—we’d had movie night in my bed, rather than on the couch, like we’d done in my dorm. The bed was comfier and gave us more room to spread out. I can’t even remember who suggested it, but it was probably me one week when I was sick or something and we’d just stayed that way ever since.

I’d always hosted too. In college it was because my roommate was never there, and now Jason just liked the escape from his family. They didn’t know where I lived, so the one time he hosted and they interrupted by coming over, he and I agreed we’d just have it at my place. I liked his brothers and sister well enough, but they’d ruined that movie night. I doubted Wayne Manor movie nights ever involved any movies no one had seen before—because everyone talked and yelled at each other too much to actually pay attention to the movie.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Well, all that means is that we get to rewatch it—from the beginning—next week!” Jason declared. I frowned. “Don’t you pout at me. Those have been the official movie night rules since our freshman year of college.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dug deep into the Google Docs on my phone for Movie Night Rules from our freshman year of college. Six years was a long way to scroll through, but eventually I found it. I opened the doc and scanned the rules. “Oh, buzz off,” I muttered, poking Jason in the side.

“No poking!” He lurched away. Jason was selectively ticklish. Sometimes I would poke him in the side and he’d jump, other times he wouldn’t even notice I touched him. And he swapped between the two randomly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “I thought about it. But you looked so cute—” He pinched my cheek and I was reminded of the fact that he had the personality traits of an eighty-year-old grandmother. “—with your hair all messy and your cheeks all squished that I just couldn’t.” He laughed as I batted his hand away from my face. I poked him again. “No poking!”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

I expected him to smack my hand away and shove the shirt back down over his torso, but to my surprise, he helped me take it off. I’d seen him shirtless too many times to bother staring at his remarkably muscular torso. I just climbed out of my bed and went to the small closet out in the hall that held my tiny washer and dryer. I threw his shirt in the washer, dumped a bit of detergent in, and got it started before going back to my room.

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

Jason struggled to get one of my—much smaller—T-shirts from college off. I scoffed and helped him yank it over his head before throwing one my pajama shirts at him. I wore my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was even big on Jason. “You could have just asked for a replacement and I’d have handed you this.”

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

Jason leaned over to set his popcorn bowl on the bedside table closest to him. “Maybe next week we should try this on the couch. I always feel bad about getting popcorn on your sheets—and then you won’t be so comfortable that you fall asleep.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

He laughed. “Well, if you’re going to play dirty, I will too.” He reached out as my pillow hit him again and he wrangled it from me. “A-ha! Look at that! Got your ammo. How does it feel, to be attacked by your own pillow?”

Jason started smacking me with it. I squealed and blocked him as best I could with my arms. We were both laughing as I tried to reach around him to the pillow he’d been using to brace his back against my headboard. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and hit me with the pillow using the other. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going easy on you just because you’re adorable.”

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Getting inside his much longer reach was the hard part. Once I managed to duck around his arms and wrench my wrist free, I started tickling him. Tonight was a ticklish night. He squirmed away from me.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

“No. No!” His protests didn’t work on me. “Oh you’re as bad as my brothers. Stop it—stop it.” His voice went firm, all traces of laughter gone. With one quick movement, the pillow we’d attacked each other with was discarded on the floor. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was lying flat in the center of the bed.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. His eyes widened, as if he seemed to just barely realize how close we were. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.”

He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them.

He swung his leg to get off me and used it to step off the bed. “I should go,” he said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll grab my T-shirt next week.” He strode to the door of my bedroom while I sat on the bed, dumbfounded, jaw hanging open.

As he opened the door, I bounded off the bed.

I caught him before he could reach for his stuff on my couch, grabbing his wrist. “What was that about?” I demanded. He refused to turn and look at me.

“Just… let it go,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to pull his wrist out of my hand, but I grabbed it with my other one to hold him in both.

“No! What the hell is going on with you?”

“Leave it alone,” he growled out.

“I can’t! What happened in there that made you shut down? What did I do wrong?”

He whirled. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me!”

“Then tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Jason grabbed me by the shoulders, wrenching out of my grip so hard my fingers ached. He spun me around and pinned me by the shoulders against my front door. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched it before fixing me with a crystal blue stare. “It’s just… seeing you beneath me—all flushed pink and panting, your eyes hooded and staring up at me… seeing you like that… I just felt myself fall in love with you!”

If he hadn’t pinned me against the door I probably would have fallen over from shock. My mouth definitely fell open. “Jay… I…” I breathed.

Still holding my shoulders, he spun me around so I was away from the front door and moved to shove his jeans into his backpack.

Before he could, I threw reservation to the wind.

I grabbed his shoulders, forced him to turn and face me, moved my hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss me.

Our mouths crashed together hard enough to make my front teeth ache, but I didn’t care. My heart leapt into my throat and I almost melted as his arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, so our torsos were pressed against each other. My eyelids closed as I sighed. We were both breathing hard, air from our noses warm against each other’s skin. Holding my waist in both arms, he turned and pinned my back against the door again.

“Oh, God…” Jason breathed against my lips. He kissed me again and I moaned. He reached one hand up and tangled it in my hair. He could palm the back of my skull as though it were a basketball. His fingers were warm against my scalp.

When he pulled his lips away from me, I groaned quietly in complaint.

“We—we should not be doing this,” he whispered, shaking his head. The white streak at the front of his hairline flopped back and forth with the movement. I wanted to reach my fingers up and twist that streak between them. But I didn’t.

“Why not?” I replied, just as breathless.

“We’re friends. This isn’t us.”

“You just said that you just barely fell in love with me.”

“I did. But I’m not willing to ruin the good thing we’ve had going on here for six years.” He panted, shoulders heaving up and down, as he reached up and took my hands away from his face, gently dragging them by the wrists. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve been able to keep longer than a year or two. I can’t… I can’t just… this isn’t about what I want.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” I pointed out. “What does that say about what I want?”

“It’s not just about wants,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Us being together is dangerous? To whom?”

“To you.”

“Why would it be dangerous for me?” I pushed.

He let me go and spun away from me. He looked like he wanted to shout and rage—maybe throw something—but he just clenched his fists and panted.

When he finally turned back to face me, he’d calmed down a little. “It’s dangerous… because… I… oh, Bruce is gonna kill me…” he whispered, shaking his head again. “Because I… am… the Red Hood.”

Two big confessions in one night. I felt a little dizzy and remembered to breathe.

“Red Hood. As in… the vigilante. And… the crime boss.”

“Vigilante, yes. Crime boss days are behind me. I was newly-back-from-the-dead and not in a stable mindset when I became a crime boss.” I decided not to ask about that. He huffed and sat on my coffee table, instead of the sofa, rubbing his temples. “And I wasn’t going to tell you about it, by the way. You’re the only normal friend I have right now. But it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If any of the rogues in this city knew I had someone I cared about as much as I care about—as much as I love you… you would not survive to the end of the year.”

I crossed from the front door to the sofa and sat on the sofa cushion closest to him, setting my hand on his knee. “Jay, I… I’m willing to risk it. To be with you. We just need to be careful—”

“I’m not willing to lose you. I would have been terrified before tonight if someone worse than me caught you. Knew you were just a friend. Now, though? Now, I don’t know what I’d do if you were captured, and that scares me even more. I saw you under me in that bedroom and I saw a future that was good—for the first time in the nine years since I was resurrected—but I can’t let that be my future. For your sake.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting. But I did tighten my grip on his knee hard and snap, “Get over yourself, Todd. You’re not the only one who gets to make this decision.”

“No, but apparently I’m the only one who can see things objectively enough to make the wise decision.”

It was my turn to want to throw something. “Jason. Peter. Todd. I don’t care about the danger. And I know you do. But do you know what it’d do to me, knowing that you love me and I feel the same, but you won’t let me be yours? Do you know what it would do to you? I know what it would do to me. It would eat me up inside day in and day out. I would sit here dying for you, waiting for you to come to your senses and carry me back into that bedroom to stay in there all night. But you never would. And I would just wait. I’d never date anyone else. If I tried, all I’d be doing was wishing they were you.

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. Some people are just born to sacrifice. To give up what they want—what they need—for the sake of other people. It’s the only choice we’re ever given, so it’s the choice we make over and over and over again. Sometimes people will split others into Givers and Takers. Those of us born to sacrifice are a step beyond even Givers. We’re the ones who give up everything for others. I’ve done it with my family my entire life. Everyone else always wanted so strongly that my only option was to give up my own. You’re the same, I see it every time I see you with your brothers.

“Jason, it’s time for us to Take. It’s time to let life give us something. This is the moment to be selfish. To put aside Batman and his zealous crusade for one damn moment and let yourself be happy.” I dug my fingernails into his knee through his sweats. “Be selfish for once, Jason.”

He finally looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t,” he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and sighed loudly through them. “Yes, you can. If you’re waiting for my consent, you’ve more than got it. I’m telling you now to give yourself consent to want. To take. Get over this hold out that a double life has on you and—mmph!”

He cut me off by slamming his lips against mine, surging off the coffee table and straddling me on the sofa. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me to one side, sitting on the sofa and guiding me to straddle himself. His hands were splayed over my shoulder blades. I twisted his white streak through my fingers. Our breath shuddered in and out of our lungs. I parted my lips slightly and ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips.

They opened immediately and let me in. I sighed out my nose. “Please ruin our friendship,” I breathed into his lips. “This is so much better.”

He snickered out his nose, smiling. “Does your consent to let me want you include me carrying you back into that bedroom and neither of us leaving until dawn?” He nodded toward my room.

My body shivered. Not from cold. Excitement. Electricity.

“Definitely,” I said breathlessly.

His hands slid from my shoulder blades and down to my legs. He held them and stood up. I hooked my ankles around his back, locking my arms’ grip around his neck.

He carried me to my room, kicked the door shut, and laid me gently on the messed-up bedsheets and disarrayed pillows. On all fours above me, my legs around his waist, he kissed me. Gently, at first, but he quickly grew hungry. His hands worked their way under my shirt, callused palms scraping slightly against my skin.

“Still okay with this?” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, unable to even speak loud enough to be heard from inches away.

He smiled. Wicked delight flickering on his face. “Well, get ready for me to call you mine. Because I am all yours.”

I smiled. “I’m yours, Jason.”

[seacottons]

— christmas with ateez

notes: fluff, mildly suggestive dialogue.

— park seonghwa

"But it's not fair! I gave you your present early!"

The male merely spun around, ignoring your whines as he adjusted the flickering lights over the fireplace. The wood crackled merrily in the fire and casted a brilliant orange glow onto the man's chiseled face.

"Yes, and I love it, but I never agreed that I'll give you your present early," he spoke as he jabbed the wood with the poker stick, sending bursts of sparks in the air, "Just be patient, love. Only a few more days."

"Okay, but," you grumbled as you sat crossed leg onto the couch, arms crossed and lukewarm coffee long forgotten on the table, "It still isn't fair."

With a sigh, your lover stands up to walk into the bedroom, before towering over you with a palm sized gift box. Taking the cover off, he dipped his hand inside, "Alright, fine. Since you won't stop acting like a baby, I guess it's only fair if I return the favor. You're going to love this," your eyes grew wide in anticipation as he simpered mostly to himself. He drew out his empty hand, only to shoot you a heart with his index finger and thumb. You guffawed momentarily, jaw dropping and heart sinking. Disappointment washed over you as he nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Park Seonghwa! You're not funny!"

You attempted to push his chest away with your fuzzy sock-clad feet, only for him to settle down in between your legs, hand propping his face up as he gazes at you in amusement. A mischievous glint sparkled in his orbs, one that you matched with a subtle glare.

"I was going to save this for Christmas, but you're so stubborn and insistent," reaching back, he pulled out a tiny, blue velvet box, hands working it open to reveal a ring, its brilliant, prismatic colors beaming against your shocked face as it caught the bright lights overhead, "I take it you know what this is for, right? I've been thinking about this for a while now, really, and I wanted to wait for the perfect opportunity to ask you, will you marry me?" His face fell instantly as tears streamed down your face, his brows knitting in worry as you broke down and wrapped your arms around his throat, nearly cutting off his air supply and circulation as you nodded aggressively against the column of his neck, voice hoarse and weak from the onslaught of overwhelming emotions, "Oh, you're such a big baby. My big baby."

— kim hongjoong

The sound of spools and scissors clattering down onto the floor snapped you out of your train of thought.

"This is too hard," Hongjoong flops down onto the floor of the living room, a whine escaping his throat, "I give up. I can't make an ugly sweater!"

Numerous colors of thread, ribbons, felt, and pom-poms littered the floor. The sound of snipping pierced the silence, and you smiled as you finally cut out the shape of a snowman. "You're just too much of a perfectionist, baby," you smile as you reach down to fluff his hair, "It's not supposed to look good. That's the point."

"But I can't help it," he whined as he rolled over so that his head rests in your lap, "It needs to look good! Even if it is supposed to be ugly. It still should look decent."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you lean down to place a peck against the tip of his scrunched nose, "Relax, Joongie. Just have fun with it."

You munched on gingersnap biscuits as you amusedly watched him as he fringed the edge of a red ribbon for the cuffs of his sweater. His brows furrowed in concentration as he added more stitches and pieces of fabric scraps onto the emerald-green article of clothing. An hour passed and you grew tired, hands trembling while readjusting the thread on the spool. Hongjoong was still going at it, stubborn hands picking and taking away at decorations he had already added onto his sweater.

"Stop, it looks great like that," you nudged him playfully, a yawn escaping your mouth as you leaned your head against his side, "Hurry up and finish, Joong. I'm sleepy."

He contemplates momentarily, hesitant hands outstretched over his sweater on the floor. Dropping his hands in his lap, he glanced at you for a split second, hands reaching to brush the hair out of your face as your head nodded with drowsiness, "Alright. I'll take your word for it, baby. Now let's get you into bed before you sleep on the floor again."

— jeong yunho

"Come on! The last store is closing in thirty minutes!"

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you pulled along your best friend through the numerous window shops. Lilac and blue shadows danced along the snow-covered sidewalk as shoppers briskly walked about in droves to shop for holiday gifts. Twinkling lights hung along eaves of the buildings, lampposts, as well as the bare trees in town. A variety of holiday songs can be heard throughout every turn, each shop displaying sparkling wreaths and flashing lights to beckon customers in.

Giant candy canes flanked the streets, leading to a monstrous sized evergreen tree in the center of town. Yunho's cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold, and despite trembling in his boots from the onslaught of sharp flurries beating against his face, he takes one look at your beaming expression and is instantly filled with a strange warmth that not even a crackling fireplace can provide.

He'll admit, maybe today wasn't the best day to get dragged by his best friend to go window shopping for all your mutual friends, but his soft spot for you prevented him from disagreeing. While you rambled on and on about how it would be cute to buy Jongho a muscly teddy bear and Mingi a sparkly crown, his mind drifted to when you stopped at a particular store and suddenly ceased your talking to gaze open-mouthed at a large snow globe filled with iridescent glitter, sparkling snowmen, and penguins. The afternoon sky was flecked with shining amber and pink clouds that illuminated your sparkly eyes, and the smell of cinnamon tea and roasting chestnuts filled the town's air.

He smiled to himself, already mentally preparing the gift wrap color and ribbon. Hopefully, this year his wrapping skills will improve. Maybe he'll just let Seonghwa help him out.

"Yunho, are you even paying attention to me!?"

— kang yeosang

You woke up to an unusually bright light, brows furrowing and eyes scrunching shut. Peeking your head over your lover's sleeping frame you noted the piles of snow gathering against the window you decorated with silly, little window clings last night. Frost stretched into arabesque patterns on the glass window panes, the crystals glistening gold in the morning sunlight.

The second your foot grazed the icy tiles of your bedroom, you opted to remain in bed and steal some of Yeosang's body heat. Lifting his limp arm, you tucked yourself into his hold, face buried against his chest. The shift in movement stirred him from his slumber, and he sat up bleary-eyed and confused.

Peering down at your frame silently, he settled back against the bed, tugging you closer and placing multiple pecks onto the crown of your head. Mornings like these were your favorite. You loved to cling onto your lover like second skin as the two of you slept soundlessly. He was always so, so warm and soft, and his embrace always felt like home.

The extra hours of sleep felt like mere minutes, and by the time you peeled your eyes open for the second time, Yeosang was no longer in the center of the bed spooning you. Sitting up with a deep inhale, you grimaced at the glistening snow outside, the icy wind howling and sending tuffs of ice scattering about. The sound of padded footsteps caught your attention, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of cocoa.

Yeosang stood in the doorway with an unamused expression, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand and chocolate stains on his beige, fleece sweater, "Oh good, you're awake. You slept like a rock while I nearly set the kitchen on fire."

"What did you do.." you mumbled, fists reaching up to rub at your eyes, "Should I even ask?"

You're suddenly aware of the faint smell of something burnt in the air and the thin haze of smoke lingering throughout your apartment.

"Don't worry," he mused as he handed you the red mug of hot chocolate, your eyes instantly drawn to the dollop of cream and marshmallows floating on the surface. He settled onto the bed beside you, leaning in to give you a chocolate-stained kiss, "We needed a new microwave anyway."

— choi san

"See, your shower wasn't that bad," you cooed gently as you swaddled your boyfriend's cat, Byeol, in a fluffy blanket, carrying her out to the living room. You bumped into a hard chest, Byeol instantly taking the opportunity to dive out of your arms to scurry away. Snapping your head up, you were met with a smirking, cardigan-clad San who leaned against the doorframe.

You dropped your gaze to the dangling mistletoe in his hands, scoffing playfully at the sight. Throughout your entire apartment, mistletoes hung from every doorframe and corner with San's stubborn insistence. Leaning forward, you cupped his dimpled cheeks bringing him in closer to slot your lips against his own in a chaste kiss.

"I told you, you don't need a mistletoe to ask me for a kiss," you murmured against his mouth as he placed numerous pecks onto your glossed lips. Pulling you taut against his chest, he burrows his head into the crook of your neck, and you feel his lips twitch up into a knowing smile.

"But I've been getting more kisses thanks to all the mistletoes," he laughed against your skin, arms coiling tightly around your frame, his hands fondling your rear, "Even more than Byeol. So, I think I might just keep them hung up even after-"

The sound of glass shattering startled him, his frame jolting up instantly, eyes wide as saucers.

"That better not be my new snow globe."

Peeling himself from your hold, San scrambled to the bedroom, the sounds of his cries reverberating throughout the apartment. Reaching down to pick up the forgotten mistletoe, you laugh as he scolded Byeol, who in return dashed out of the room without a care in the world.

San stood in the doorway with a broken snow globe in hand, a pout eminent on his features, "I'm giving Byeol coal for Christmas," he spat angrily as you walked over to him, eyes rolling and hands working on unbuttoning the cardigan he had on to continue what he had previously started, "I knew she should've been on Santa's naughty list."

He suddenly ceases his rant, peering at you with a questioning gaze.

You raised your arm high in the air, and the mass of green dangled in front of San's curious face. His eyes flickered from the mistletoe to your face repeatedly, before his crestfallen expression morphs into one of mischief, "And you are most definitely on San's naughty list."

— song mingi

Mingi lets out a loud shriek as the roof of his gingerbread house topples over into a mess of frosting and gummy treats. Peeking over from your side of the table, you nearly laugh at the sight of him apologizing to the fallen gummy bears smeared with excess frosting, "Ming-Ming, try adding more frosting! It'll help."

"This is a lot harder than it looks!" he complained as he delicately squeezed a line of vanilla icing onto the edges of the cookie, "I nearly killed the gummy bear family. My hands are just too big and clumsy-"

He squeezed his eyes shut as he once again placed the remaining piece of gingerbread cookie onto the house, one eye peeking open to stare in awe at the stabilized cookie house. His eyes glimmered with joy, mouth stretching wide into a contagious grin as he silently points at his creation in fear that his voice will send it crashing down for a second time that night.

Mingi's gingerbread house was cute, you'll give him that. Smears of frosting stained the sides and the roof, and excess frosting dripped from the seams connecting all the pieces together. His hands scrambled to pick out the first of his decorations.

"Let's see," he hummed in satisfaction, "Baby, help me out. Peppermint candies or gum drops for the wreath on the door?"

"I don't think your gummy bear family will approve of their kind being used as a wreath," you giggled, your sock-clad feet intertwining between his legs underneath the table as you reached into the bowl of treats to plop a few in your mouth, "Pass me the red icing, please."

"You're absolutely right," he says in a matter of factly, eyes wide and curious as he squeezes dollops of icing onto the sides of the gingerbread house, "The gum drops will be the flowers around the house. Y'know, just like Spongebob's house?"

When he wasn't met with a reply, he peers up curiously, mouth dropping instantly with a loud gasp, "No! Stop! Don't eat the gingerbread men! I need those!"

— jung wooyoung

Crouching down, you admired the way the frost glistened in the sunlight, your fingers reaching forward to trace the arabesque patterns on the tree trunks and leaves. A flying mass of white flung over your head and onto the tree bark, another hitting you square on your bum. A high-pitched scream rung out almost immediately from your throat, your frame stumbling onto the snow littered ground.

You whipped your head back at the source of laughter from behind you, and your eyes instantly squint in aggravation at the cackling male behind you. Wisps of ebony locks peek out from his red beanie, framing his amused face and cheeky grin. He trudged towards the snowmen you two built ( the same one with the goofy, crooked smile he insisted looked like you ) and struck a pose on one leg, arms stretched high to form a heart as he winked at you, his long, lilac shadow stretching onto the expanse of soft snow.

"Baby, haven't I taught you to never turn your back on your enem-" He startled as a tiny golf-sized snowball slammed and crumbled onto his nose. Brushing off the snow and clenching his jaw, he then released a huff through his nose and whined, boot-clad feet stomping into the snow, "Ah! I was being cute for you! Don't ruin my moment!"

His nose grew considerably more flushed from the impact of snow, and he drew back, threatened, when you stomped your way towards him, a sheepish smile finding its way onto his features. Attempting to assert dominance, he cleared his throat, eyes smoldering as he leaned in close towards your face with a faint smirk, "It's okay to be a sore loser, you know?" Reaching down, he pats your bum free of the remaining snow, snickering to himself when you slap his hands away, before releasing a loud cry of surprise when you push him back to land on the smaller of the two snowmen.

"No!" he whined instantly, "Baby! You made me crush your twin." He scrambled up to assess the damage as you cackled beside him, his eyes practically slits as he pulled you in by your scarf, "That's what you're going to look like too, after I'm done with you."

— choi jongho

This year, your boyfriend disagreed to all your attempts to buy a faux tree for your living room, and instead flaunted his strength as he single-handedly chopped one down and dragged it to his car. The pungent smell of cedar was overwhelming in your tiny apartment, but you thought it was well worth the trip to see Jongho so proud and satisfied with himself for doing all the hard work with no aid.

He carefully stood on a stool as he wrapped golden tinsel around the tree, his brows furrowed on concentration, "Tell me if it's crooked, baby," he crouched down as he reached the end, hand outstretched in a silent gesture for the scissors. You placed the box of hand painted ornaments and ribbons down, hands reaching in to grab at a few, only to be stopped by Jongho, "No, no. It's okay, I can do it. Don't worry, love."

"But I want to-"

"Ssh," he places a finger to your pouting lips and stops your futile attempt to persuade him, "Let Macho Jongho do all of the work, princess."

Crossing your arms with a roll of your eyes, you watched him tie multiple bows of ribbon along the edges of the tree. Jongho always regarded you like delicate glass, never allowing you to do any tiresome work if he was around. In the beginning, it was quite endearing, but moments like these you wanted to pull on his ear and demand him to accept your help. Besides, decorating the Christmas tree was the highlight of the entire holiday.

A muffled cuss caught your attention, and you perked your head up to gaze at the frustrated male across the room. You watched as he struggled with the fairy lights, the thin metal coiling around his arms and fingers, "Babe," he called out in defeat, "I need help."

"I thought you'd never ask."

[supernatural-jackles]

Owe You One - Part 1

Title: Owe You One - Here’s the Deal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,290

Warnings: Bad Sex, Fluff, Playful Banter, Smut, Female and Male Receiving, Bit of a consent kink, 18+ only.

Summary:  Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Square Filled: Neighbors!AU for @spndeanbingo​, Free Space for @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: It’s finally here!! I’m very excited to take you on this rollercoaster ride! Please leave your thoughts in the reblogs and replies! Feedback always keeps me going! Happy Reading! 

 “Fuck! I’m gonna come!” he called out, bucking his hips up into yours. You rolled off of him, taking the empty side of the bed as ripped the condom off, stroking his hard length. He rolled over, getting onto his knees so he could finish himself off on your body.

 The sticky liquid coated your stomach as he let out a loud grunt, still stroking his cock. One of his hands came down next to you, trying to balance himself as pleasure zapped through him. You lay there, trying not to utter a word about it. Did he really have to be that extra about it? Did he really have to rip the condom off and coat your skin in his - stuff?

 “Damn, you are something else baby,” he let out a chuckle. “I mean really something. Did you come?”

 “If you had to ask, then the answer is no,” you scoffed, rolling off the bed, completely unsatisfied. “Look, I’ve got things to do so you gotta go.”

 “Sure thing, baby. Can I call you later?” he grinned, looking over to you.

 “If you want to,” you said lowly, making your way into the bathroom. You heard movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like his jeans being put back on. You willed him to move faster. You wanted him out of your apartment. Nothing like shitty sex and a guy that lingered. You had no idea why you even tried with this one. He was as stupid as they came. Carl, or Keith? You couldn’t remember what his name was. You met him in a diner a few weeks back. He took you on one date, and fucked you the rest of the time. He wasn’t a good lay, and he was selfish as hell on top of that. There was nothing worse than that.

 You heard the front door shut with a click, notifying you that it was safe to leave the bathroom when you were ready to. You felt dirty and not just from sex. His hands were on you and they definitely weren’t the cleanest. You headed over to the shower, turning it on hot. You wanted to wash the gunk feeling off, along with everything else he left. What a waste of your time you thought to yourself. Why were you wasting your time with every guy that came along?

 You stepped under the stream, letting the water hit directly on your stomach. Washing away his finished product. You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to ask you if you came. The man was lazy as hell, and didn’t know the difference between the clitoris and vagina. It was a complete and utter disappointment yet again. You had no idea why you kept him around when all he wanted was sex. He didn’t care whether or not you came, let alone about your life outside of the bedroom. There wasn’t a point in continuing when you weren’t happy with him.

 The hot water lulled over you muscles, relaxing you along with the apple scent of your shampoo. You always felt better after a good shower. No matter what the day held, or what went down. A shower made you feel clean and reduced your worries. There was a part of you that wanted to let your hand wander between your legs, just to finish yourself off. You had done it so often that it was becoming boring. Like a sad routine. You needed something more to get you there. Maybe you needed a new toy to play with.

 You shut the water off, stepping out of the shower and onto the grey carpeted mat. You reached for the blue towel on the counter, wrapping around your body before moving in front of the mirror. The mirror was fogged up, not that you needed it urgently. You felt a lot more refreshed.

 You dried yourself off, pulling on your black robe to cover yourself up until you grabbed actual clothes from your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom for a second, waiting for the mirror to clear up. You knew you had to get something out to cook for dinner before it got too late. It was already late enough.

 Your kitchen smelled of the apple cinnamon scentsy you had plugged in. It was supposed to help you get in the holiday spirit. At least, that was the point of why you put it in your cart when you saw it. It mostly made your apartment smell good. You walked over to the fridge, looking to see the chicken you had picked up at the grocery store the day before. You had some leftover salad to go with it. Enough dinner for tonight.

 You took the chicken out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop for when you got dressed. Three loud knocks at your door pulled out out of your thoughts. You had no idea who it could be at this time. You prayed it wasn’t doucheface showing up again. You weren’t sure you could handle anymore disappointment today.

 You twisted the knob, pulling the door open, only to reveal your next door neighbor standing in the doorway. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he stood in henley with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly.

 “You always answer the door in your robe?” he smirked. “‘Cause if so-”

 “What do you want, Dean?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

 “Mhh what?” he furrowed his brows, clearly getting a good look at you in your black robe.

 “Dean, really?” you raised your eyebrow.

 “Sorry, you’re just,” he pointed at you. “Sorry, I came over to ask you if I could borrow your microwave for a second. Mine broke this morning and I’m trying to heat up my dinner.”

 “Yeah, c’mon in,” you nodded, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. Dean stepped in with a smile.

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been in your apartment and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. You had been neighbors for a little over a year. Eight months ago, he and his long time girlfriend Cassie broke up and he was a mess. You invited him to come over to distract him, and he ended up staying an entire weekend. You binge watched Friends and ate about a gallon of ice cream. That was when the two of you became really good friends.

 Dean was in your apartment at least three times a week, depending on his week that is. Dean was a mechanic at a local garage that he and his dad owned with a few other guys. Most nights he finished around six and dropped by with some food for dinner. Other nights, he was working his other job. He and his younger brother Sam, owned a bar in town called Jefferson’s Starship. Dean named it of course.

 He was a good guy. You got that vibe off of him instantly the day you met him. He helped you carry a few boxes into your apartment, which you needed. When you saw him upset that day he and his girlfriend broke up, you couldn’t stand it. He was a really good friend to you. One of the best actually. You weren’t the best when it came to guys, or friends for that matter. But Dean? Dean was special. There was no one that got you or your sense of humor like he did.

 “I take it Doofy was over,” he teased, nodding once more to your outfit as he opened your microwave door.

 “You really like calling him Doofy, huh?” you shook your head as you made your way over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Yes, he was over.”

 “I heard,” he smirked. “Well, him anyways.”

 “Dean!” you raised your voice, shaking your head once more, trying to hide your smile.

 “We share a wall, sweetheart. Your bedroom, my kitchen. Walls are thin,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his hands on the counter in front of you. “So, let me guess this time. He came and left?”

 “He came, asked if I did, then I asked him to leave,” you corrected him.

 “Ouch,” he said sheepishly. “High and dry. That explains the robe and the wet hair.”

 “How hard is it to pleasure a woman?” you called out. “I genuinely want to know. I haven’t found a single guy who knows the difference between my clit and my vagina, Dean! How hard is it?”

 “Pretty hard if he doesn’t know the difference between buttons,” he let out a laugh.

 “I’m just going to order a new toy off amazon at this rate. It’d get the job done,” you shrugged, feeling defeated.

 “Can I watch?” he joked, opening the microwave door to stir his food. “Oh by the way. I wanted to ask you something which may or may not have been the real reason why I’m here. My microwave isn’t actually broken.”

 “And here I thought you were here to comment on my sex life,” you breathed out, adjusting your robe a little more. “I’m all ears.”

 “So my mom is having a birthday party this year, and they still think I have a girlfriend and invited us. I was kind of, sort of, maybe hoping you’d go with me to keep my family off my back for that anyways,” he said lowly, swirling around his food before shoving it back in for another two minutes.

 “Me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Of all people, me?”

 “You’re the only one I know that I can be myself around. I don’t have to force myself to get along with some random girl in front of my family. You’re one of my closest friends,” he pointed out. “You just have to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night. I swear I’ll repay you.”

 “Will you though?” you side-eyed him playfully. “Look Dean, you really don’t have to. We’re friends and I’m happy to do it.”

 “Really?” he beamed.

 “Yeah, I’ll do it,” you smiled politely. “I’ve met your brother a few times so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

 “I owe you big time, Y/N. You have no idea how much you are saving my ass by doing this,” he breathed out as the microwave beeped at him again. “I have shown up to the last three birthday parties alone and I’m not going through the ‘oh Dean, when are you finally going to settle down’ comment from my cousins, and aunts. Granted I was still dating Cassie last year, but she was away on some journalism trip. Not that they ever showed interest in meeting her. I’d just rather not deal with that again. I’m tired of the comments.”

 “I would say I know the feeling, but I don’t. I’ve been on my own since I was pretty young. I didn’t get along with my mom and it was just the two of us.”  you shared. “You’re making me feel pretty thankful I’m on my own.”

 “Really?” he cocked his eyebrow. “I always thought you got along with your mom?”

 “No. Not even close,” you scoffed.

 “Well, it’s you and me now, girlfriend,” he winked. “I’m serious about repaying you though. You’ll see why when you meet my family. Sammy is the only normal one.”

 “Name your offer, Winchester,” you said, crossing your arms over your body.

 “Uh, let’s see,” he raised his eyebrow, looking up to the left. “I’ll let you drive baby?”

 “Really?” you rolled your eyes. “That buys you handholding and that’s about it.”

 “Oh we’re playing this game now?” he chuckled, opening up your drawer to grab a fork for his dinner before taking a seat at the counter next to you. “Fine. How about - oh - how about I show you that not all guys are clueless when it comes to sex?” he said with a smirk.

 “And how are you going to do that?” you cocked your eyebrow.

 “How do you think, sweetheart?” he wiggled his eyebrows before taking a bite out of his food.

 “You? You’re going to have sex with me?” you asked in confusion.

 “Why not right? I mean, you’re gonna have to kiss me in front of my family. Not that you haven’t dreamed about kissing me,” he pointed out. “And besides, I know the difference between your clit and your pussy, how to pleasure you, and I’m not going to stick it in the wrong hole unless you ask me to.”

 “You said you were never going to bring that up,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?” he grinned. “I’m serious though. I’ll show you a damn good time, and treat you right. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, of course. But I won’t leave the room until I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

 “Dean, are you sure?” you questioned. “I mean, we’ve gotten really personal with each other but this is different. I don’t want to cross any lines here. I’m not putting our friendship at risk here.”

 “I know, but I think we’re both mature enough to handle this. Nothing will ruin our friendship, ” he stated. “‘Sides, you have to know by now that I think you’re hot, and I’d nail you in a second given the chance. Call it practice for my mom’s party.”

 “So if I untie this robe and drop it to the floor, you’d be cool with that?” you played, trying to gage his reaction as you stood up, stepping away from him. His eyes went dark as he froze, watching your every move.

 “More than cool with that,” he muttered.

 You reached for the tie, pulling it loose before opening up your robe. You could feel a lump forming in your throat. No going back now. Dean thought you were hot, you reminded yourself. You let the material fall over your shoulders, and drop to the floor around your feet. Dean swallowed hard, not daring to tear his eyes away from you.

 “Son of a -” he breathed out.  

 “I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” you teased,

 “Oh I’m done,” he stated, getting up from the stool. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

 “Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your voice was confident, but inside, you were dying to cover up and hide away forever. You weren’t gorgeous, or sexy. You weren’t the kind of girl a guy like him fawned over. You found guys like doofy. It was almost like you needed confirmation that he thought you were attractive.

 “Oh god, yeah,” he licked his lips. “Can - can I touch you?”

 “Yes,” you nodded. Your eyes locked with his breathtaking green orbs as he stepped closer. You were expecting his hands to either reach for your breast or your ass. You knew he was going to touch you. He asked and it was to be expected.

 He reached for your hips before slipping his arms around your waist, resting them on the small of your back. That was completely unexpected to say the least. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but there wasn’t the typical I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, lust that everyone else had. You were standing completely naked in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off your face. It was different and you liked that.

 “Seriously, you are fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, leaning in closer to you. You felt his breath mingling with yours. Was he going to kiss you? One of his hands reached up to your cheek, his index finger brushing the wet strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek in his palm. You melted against his touch, just a little as you glanced up into those breathtaking green eyes of his. He inched closer, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, hesitant kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. He was gentle, which is the opposite of what you were expecting from him of all people. If anything, he was making you feel more comfortable. You kissed him back with the same hesitancy he had. You slipped your hands around his back, tugging him closer to you out of instinct.

 “Mhh, we should probably move this into the bedroom,” you muttered against his lips.

 “You got it, sweetheart,” he smirked. His calloused hands slipped down the curve of your ass, reaching the back of your thighs. He lifted you off the ground with ease, earning a tiny yelp from your lips. You giggled as he carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He placed you carefully on the messy bed, letting you adjust yourself so you were comfortable while he stood tall.

 “You’re wearing far too much clothing, Dean,” you smiled up at him. He cast his head down with a smile playing on his plump lips. “Off with the shirt and show me what you’re working with.”

 He took the hem of his henley, tugging it over his head to reveal his upper body. God, he was a fucking sight. You had never seen him shirtless before this. You thought he was hot before this, but you had no idea just how hot he was until he shed some layers. He wasn’t completely toned. He was soft in some places and that only made you want him more. You wanted to trace your tongue over every inch of him.

 “Damn, you’re hot,” you commented as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He didn’t say anything to you. In fact, he looked a little nervous about it. You didn’t want to make a comment about it because this was a hook up and he wasn��t your boyfriend. You were going to let it slide this time and bring it up the next time you had a movie night or something. “Take it all off, baby.”

 “You’re such a dork,” he let out a laugh. You watched as he unbuckled his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down his legs, revealing himself to you for the first time.

 And oh my fucking god, he was perfect.

 He has the nicest looking dick you had ever seen on a man. Big, thick and he kept himself well taken care of down there in terms of grooming. You were actually looking forward to this one. Not just for how hot he was. Dean was a good person, and not to mention a man of his word. You were looking forward to seeing what he had to offer you in terms of owing you one.

 “Dean, you’re-“ you paused. “Fuck.”

 “Like what you see?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

 “Eh,” you giggled. “I’m not on the pill, just so you know. I do have condoms in my drawer though.”

 “Good to know,” he nodded. “Listen, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like and don’t like. By all means, tell me what to do and I’ll listen the best I can. I just want to make you feel good.”

 “The very same goes for you too,” you told him. “I wanna be able to make you come too.”

 “Trust me sweetheart, you are going to have no problems with that,” he assured you. “Now, are you sure you want to do this? I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

 “I’m sure I want to do this,” you confirmed. You smiled at his words. It was nice of him to ask you. He wasn’t forcing you by any means, or making you feel like you had to do this. It was actually really nice of him the more you thought about it.

 He carefully climbed on your bed from the bottom. Your eyes never left his body as he moved up the bed. His muscles flexed as he fit himself between your legs. His body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your inner thigh. He captured his lips with yours almost unexpectedly, pulling your bottom lip between his, sucking down softly.  Your hands traveled down the length of his back. You could feel the arousal pooling in your core. A delicious ache you couldn’t wait to satisfy.

 His hand traced up your torso, his thumb brushing underneath your breast as his lips moved along your jaw, making their way to your neck. You let out a sigh, melting into the mattress beneath you. Your hands slipped into his hair as he kissed his way down to your breasts.

 “F - Dean,” you breathed out. His lips latched around your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over your hardening bud. His touch gave you goosebumps and part of you thought that it was because you hadn’t been touched this extensively in a long time. He was fucking woreshipping you compared to the rest of them. Dean knew exactly where to touch you without a hint of guidance. He ignited something in you that no one had before. Maybe you were going to get an orgasm out of this after all.

 “Feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, kissing along your abdomen as his hands soothed down your sides, filling your stomach with anticipation of what was to come.

 “Damn good,” you panted. Your heart rate was speeding up, and he had barely even done anything to you yet.

 He climbed off of you, taking a spot at the end of your bed. His hand gripped your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he could begin the first real act of the night. He took his time and that was something you enjoyed about him. There was no rush like there usually was for you. His hand trailed along your inner thigh, tickling you in the best way, causing your core to clench around nothing. His soft, wet lips kissed along the opposite side of his hand and that drove you insane. You desperately wanted to feel him directly between your legs.

 “Dean, I swear to god if you don’t -”

 “Don’t what?” he chuckled. “Don’t rush a professional.”

 “Where’s the professional?” you giggled, earning a bitch face from him. “I’m kidding!”

 “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he winked, growing closer to where you needed him. He settled directly between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips. He pushed your legs open a little wider. The anticipation was killing you and he fucking knew it too.

 He inched forward, flattening his tongue against your folds, licking a long slow strip upwards, stopping just before your clit. God, did it feel good. His tongue was warm and wetter somehow. The initial touch sending a wave a pleasure through you. You threw your head back against the mattress, your fist grasping at the comforter. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

 “Fuck,” you whimpered.

 “Feel good?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded, staring up at the ceiling, awaiting his next move. You released the comforter, allowing yourself to relax. Dean did the exact same thing, this time going even slower and reaching your clit, causing you to jerk just a little. He kept up with that for another couple of strokes, and you could feel yourself growing more and more slick as he did.

 He pressed a kiss to your clit as his finger circled around your entrance. Your eyes clamped shut the second his tongue flicked swiftly over your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards, needing more and more of his touch. You could feel him smirking against you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

 He pushed a digit inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. He curled his finger as his lips enclosed around your clit, sucking just enough to drive you insane. You arched your back, needing more of him.

 “De-Dean,” you groaned. “To the left.”

 “Your left or mine?”

 “Mine,” you panted. His tongue flickered over your clit to the left in a repetitive, but unpredictable motion that had your toes curling. Your hand reached for his head, your fingers fisting his hair tugging him in the right direction as he sucked down on you.

 You could feel that familiar burn pooling in your lower abdomen. You knew it was mere moments before Dean worked you into your first orgasm the night. He removed his finger from your center and moved both his hands underneath your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as his tongue worked it’s magic.

 “Fuck Dean, I’m gonna - I’m -” you could barely even get the words out before warm pleasure pulsated through you. You twitched against him, your fingers pulling at his hair to try to keep him in place, and he never let up. He worked your through it, making it last as long as he possibly could.

 He pulled away and you felt lifeless. You had no idea how to even move, let alone breathe. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. You tried to focus on breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

 “Y/N, you alive?” he asked you.

 “I- I think,” you answered, your voice high pitched as your eyes opened, meeting his gorgeous green orbs. “Barely but alive. Just give me a minute after that one. Fuck!”

 “Told you I’m good,” he winked playfully.

 “Oh shut up!” you let out a laugh, rolling onto your side, pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand instinctively reached up to your hip, drawing you into him as he kissed you. God, did this man know how to kiss. He had your toes curling at the thought of continuing like this. But you knew he had other plans for the night, and quite frankly, so did you. “Your turn now, Dean.”

 “You definitely don’t have to do that, Y/N,” he shook his head.

 “I know. I want to. It’s only fair to for one, and two, I really want to taste you,” you played. “You want to move up the bed a little more?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded. You managed to sit up, allowing Dean to lay in the middle of your bed. His hard cock rested against his stomach, and honestly, you couldn’t wait to taste him. You couldn’t wait to feel him on your tongue. Dean positioned himself so he was comfortable, and you gravitated between his legs. It was going to be easier for you to take him this way. You knew there was no way you were going to fit all of him in your mouth, but you were going to try your very best to pleasure him the same way he did you.

 You took his velvety length in your hand, your mouth watering at the sight of him. Dean’s eyes were on you, and somehow, that didn’t make you nervous. You stuck your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock, instantly tasting the salty, almost sweet, precome that pooled at the slit. Dean hissed at the contact and you knew you did something right.

 You moved down to his balls, flattening out your tongue before moving carefully along each one. Then you traced a line up his length, reaching the top, taking the entire head in your mouth. Your eyes flicked up, looking at Dean’s face directly and you could see that he was enjoying what you were doing so far. You sucked down lightly, spit collecting in your mouth as you did so. You released him, using your saliva as lube to slick up his cock, making it easier to pleasure him without worrying about hurting him.

 You took him in your heat, sinking down a little lower this time while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could feel each ridge and vain along your tongue, and damn did he taste good. A taste you wouldn’t mind having more than once if it were up to you.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. His hands made their way into your hair, half holding it back, half kind of tugging. You circled around the tip, running swiftly into the slit before teasing over his frenulum. He let out a loud groan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

 “Y/N-” he cried out as you took him deeper, the tip hitting near the back of your throat as your hand jerked him faster. You sucked down, causing him to moan once more.

 “Y/N - fuck, you gotta stop,” he urged you. You pulled off of him with a pop, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He was panting, his chest heaving. You smiled, knowing you did a good job.

 Dean rolled off to the side, opening up the drawer of your bedside table, grabbing one of the condoms out of the box of twelve. As nervous as you were before, you weren’t now. Not even close. If anything, you were excited to be doing this with Dean. No pressure or unrealistic expectations. He cared whether or not you were enjoying yourself, and you were. But most of all, you were comfortable with Dean. Maybe it was for all of those reasons, or the fact that you had never trusted someone the same way you did your best friend. He wasn’t some random guy you met in a bar or a diner.

 “You sure you want to do this?” he questioned once more, playing with the condom between his index finger and his thumb. “We don’t have to. I can just pay you back some other way if you don’t want to.”

 “Yeah. I want to,” you nodded. “Do you want to?”

 “Yeah,” he said softly, ripping the condom package open. He took the condom out, rolling it down properly over his hard length. You lay down on the bed, opening up your arms for him to climb on top of you. He spread your legs a little wider as he positioned himself between them. You couldn’t wait to feel that stretch when he pushed into you.

 He took his thick cock in his hand, running it swiftly through your folds. You instinctively moved your legs further apart, your eyes meeting his, waiting for him to move. You nodded your head, reassuring him that he could proceed. He smiled softly. The tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. Your hands traced up his arms, settling on his shoulders. He pushed himself gingerly inside of you, stretching your walls more than you expected as they accommodated his length. You took a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shutting as your head pressed to the pillow beneath it.

 Dean positioned his hands on either side of your body. His lips met yours as he bottomed out inside you. His kiss putting you at ease. You wrapped your arms securely around his shoulders and bent your knees to give him more room to begin moving. He felt fucking perfect inside.

 “You good?” he breathed out, trailing his lips along your jaw.

 “Yeah,” you swallowed. “‘M good.”

 He drew his hips back before moving back in at the very same pace. You felt your walls fluttering at the new sensation of him. He felt fucking amazing when he moved. His length hit all the spots you needed him to, and all the spots you didn’t know you needed touched until now. His muscles tensed just a little when he moved, and his lips never left your skin, only added to the overwhelming satisfaction he was already giving you.

 “You have no fucking idea how good you feel around me,” he growled into your neck.

 “If it’s anywhere near how good you feel inside me then I think I know,” you groaned, your hand shifting into his hair, keeping him at the sensitive spot on your neck that drove you crazy. “Keep kissing there.”

 “Curl your fingers in my hair again,” he asked lowly, his hips pushing back into yours.

 His thrusts picked up the pace. You rolled your hips against his in tune with his and that familiar burn made itself known. Your breathing was getting shallower, and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, especially in the places Dean’s skin was touching yours. The heat from him, along with the incredible aura you were creating together; it was bound to get a little hot.

 Dean was panting against your skin, and he had to adjust himself, leaving your neck. He held himself up on his hands once more, his chest abandoning yours. His eyes traveled up and down your body, drinking you in as his cock quivered inside you. You didn’t want this to come to an end. He made you feel so fucking high; like every other emotion didn’t exist. It was just pure euphoria.

 You readjusted yourself, hooking your ankles around his ass, giving him a different angle. He pushed into you and hit your g-spot dead on, you almost came right then. That coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter as he moved. You could feel every dip and ridge of his cock. Your mouth was growing dry as you struggled to breathe.

 “Dean, I’m so close,” you straggled out.

 “Good,” he panted. “Me too. What do you need?”

 “Faster!”

 He picked up his pace, pounding into you. You let out a loud moan and suddenly you were thankful it was only Dean’s apartment next to yours and no one else was next to you. Dean pecked your lips once more, and you could see the drips of sweat beading on his forehead and the top of his freckled dusted nose. His green eyes were damn near black, hooded with lust and pleasure that you had never seen before. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to hear him.

 He hit your sweet spot once more, throwing you over the edge. You arched into him as your fingers dug into the flesh of his back. He collapsed on top of you, and you buried your head in his neck, muffling your cry just a little. Pure ecstasy flowed through you, causing you to shake beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him so tightly, you were afraid he wouldn’t be able to move.

 “Fuck - Y/N, mhh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spilled himself into the condom. He twitched, moving just a little as the waves of his orgasm worked through him. You were shaking, but at the same time, you felt completely lifeless. Like he had fucked every ounce of energy out of you, and in a way, he had.

 He pulled out of you slowly, holding the base of his cock where the condom was. You pointed to the tissues on the nightstand for him to use. He quickly discarded the condom into the trash bin next to your bed before he settled down next to you.

 “Fuck,” he breathed out. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

 “You imagined it?” you let out a chuckle.

 “Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” he let out a laugh. “In all honesty though, it was some good sex.”

 “It was,” you agreed, adjusting your head on your pillow as you glanced up at the ceiling.

 “Did you come?” he laughed.

 “Shut up, asshole,” you shook your head.

 “Oh I know you did,” he teased. “More than once. I’m just that good.”

 “Yeah yeah,” you licked your bottom lip. “You held up your end pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

 “I’m glad,” he smirked. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing my parents we’re together.”

 “Me either,” you breathed out.

 He rolled off the bed, reaching for his boxers on the floor at the end of the bed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he tucked himself back in his boxers. You weren’t expecting him to stay in the slightest. It was a good time and it would’ve been awkward if he did.

 “So where and when for your mom’s party?” you asked, moving the pillow to cover yourself up a little.

 “Saturday night,” he said, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s kind of fancy so you’ll have to wear a dress. I’m wearing a black suit if that helps you at all.”

 “I have a classy black dress that should work,” you nodded.

 “Perfect,” he nodded. “I am really thankful you’re helping me out. I don’t mean to fuck you and run, but I’ve kind of gotta get to the bar.”

 “It’s okay,” you assured him. “Not like we’re together, bestie.”

 “I know, but I like to treat my women better than that when we do something like this,” he frowned.

 “I’m your best friend and I know where you live. Trust me, it’s cool. I’m not really one for cuddling after sex and talking about feelings anyways,” you shrugged. “Thanks for making me come, not once, but twice. You treated me better than any guy. Now get out of my apartment and go to work.”

 “Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “You could always come with?”

 “Nah,” you shook your head. “I’ve got plans with my one true love, Netflix.”

 “Sorry I’m getting in the way of that,” he let out a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

 “That you will, Dean,” you winked. “Thank you for this. You do know how to satisfy a woman.”

 “You’re damn right I do.”

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

Part 2 coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! I will not be sharing anymore without it. 

feedback is the most important thing you can do for a writer! 

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 25 (Finale) || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This series has been the most fun thing to write ever and I’m so grateful to everyone that has joined me on this journey. I really really really hope you like how I decided to wrap this chapter of their lives and I hope you’ll join me in the sequel to explore more adventures. I love you all and can’t wait to hear the screams that I’m certain are soon to follow this post. 

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2,199 [Series total: ~74.8k]

~~~~~~~~

A Look-back at how we started:

“Sara’s pregnant.”

No sentence had ever made you feel anger, fear, disbelief, sadness and a whole bevy of other emotions quite as quickly as that one did. You wanted to scream and you wanted to cry. Instead, you put a mask over your expressions and just took the glass of wine Laura was offering as she filled hers to the brim.

“What?” You whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

“Cale called me today…he was so obviously nervous and before I could even ask what was wrong he was rambling on about how she was pregnant and he didn’t know what to do…” You could see the disappointment on Laura’s face and you attempted to send her a reassuring smile, though you were sure she noticed how forced it seemed. Swirling your wine in your glass, you thought about all of the reasons this news bothered you, making you almost sick to your stomach.

Now onto the finale: 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

Leaning against the doorway to your shared bedroom, you felt a smile spread across your face as your boyfriend spilled the news out of frustration, a response to his mother’s unnecessary concern. 

“What?” Laura whispered, her voice cracking. The expression on her face was one of shock and awe as she just stared at Cale. Shivering as a chill ran up your spine, you turned to adjust the thermostat, cranking up the heat to ward off the mid-November chill. 

++

Cale’s parents had arrived in Denver yesterday afternoon and though you’d had dinner with them, neither you nor Cale were sure whether or how to share everything that had changed since you’d seen them last. You’d mentioned that the two of you were thinking about buying a house here which had been met with some confusion but otherwise you kept things fairly light conversation wise. A part of you had expected Laura to question you not drinking, but when she hadn’t said anything you assumed she hadn’t picked up on it at all. 

When you’d crawled into bed last night, you and Cale had still been undecided on whether to share the news yet but when you woke up this morning, it seemed like hiding probably wasn’t going to be an option. Of course, though you rarely experienced morning sickness, today of all days it had to hit you like a truck. Cale had been the doting father-to-be that he always was, holding your hair back and massaging your lower back gently. When the nausea didn’t begin to ebb like it normally did, he’d called your coworker to move all of your appointments for the day before settling you back into bed with some tea, crackers, and a wastebasket. Only with your insistence that you would be fine did he head off to practice, leaving you to doze off again. 

You’d woken up a couple hours later to Cale perched on the side of the bed, his fingers dragging lightly over your stomach. 

“You feeling any better?” He’d questioned, concern flickering across his face. “Think maybe you could use something to eat?” 

Stretching, you sat up just a little, testing out how your stomach would react to the movement. It didn’t twist or turn like it had earlier and you let out a breath of relief, reaching out to pull Cale into a quick kiss. 

“Heat me up some of the leftover soup from the freezer?” You requested. You knew Laura and Gary were coming over to spend the afternoon with the two of you, but you were fairly certain that your stomach would be unable to handle whatever lunch they brought. 

“Course sweetheart.” Cale agreed, leaving you to slowly make your way up and out of bed. 

The minute she’d walked through the door, you heard Laura question Cale about why he was cooking when he knew that they were bringing lunch. 

“Because Y/N wants soup.” Cale replied, pulling the defrosted soup from the microwave so that he could dump it into a pot to finish warming. 

Laura had expressed her confusion stating that you and Cale had both known that they were bringing one of your favorites. 

“Mom...she wasn’t feeling well this morning okay.” He sighed. “Soup is easy on the stomach, that is not.” 

“Is she sick? Cale why didn’t you tell us? If she’s not feeling well we can go find something else to do.” Laura had pressed. 

“She’s fine now.” Cale replied, his voice gaining a little bit of an edge that signaled his annoyance. 

“Seriously Cale, if Y/N isn’t feeling well she should be resting, not having to worry about entertaining us.” Laura continued. 

“Mom. Relax.” Cale declared. Immediately Laura started speaking again and the next words out of his mouth were the ones you’d been hiding. 

++

With the silence starting to become uncomfortable in the kitchen, you made your way out from your spot in the doorway, nestling up to Cale’s side as he stared at his mom. Your sudden presence seemed to startle Laura and Gary and they ran their eyes back and forth between you and their son. 

“You’re pregnant?” Laura questioned, tears welling in her eyes. Nodding, you took a step back to pull the ultrasound photos out from the magnet on the side of the fridge. Setting them down in front of her, you pecked Cale’s cheek, before turning to adjust the temperature on your soup so that it didn’t burn. 

“How do you feel about being a grandma?” You questioned after a moment, laughing as she launched herself around the kitchen island, pulling you into a hug. 

“You’re pregnant. You’re really pregnant.” She choked out in disbelief. 

“Yeah mom. I’m pregnant.” You stated. 

“Oh my lord.” Laura breathed and when she pulled away you could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. “This wasn’t planned was it?” She questioned, her slight confusion returning. 

“No, it wasn’t planned.” Cale voiced from behind you. 

“But you’re happy?” She confirmed, looking past you to her son. 

“We’re so happy.” Cale assured her. “Best surprise ever.” 

The way he looked at you sent you back to the night he was referring to a month ago. 

++

Cale had been away on one of the first roadtrips of the season when you’d found out the news. 

With moving and then trying to get settled in in your new home, you’d forgotten you were due for your birth control shot. Finding a local clinic, you made an appointment to go down and get it taken care of. You’d submitted to the requested urine test not thinking anything of it. It wasn’t until a nurse came into your room informing you that they couldn’t give you the shot that anything at all seemed out of place. 

“Wait...what do you mean? Why can’t you give me the shot?” You remembered asking. 

When she’d explained that she couldn’t give you the shot because you were pregnant, your jaw had dropped, your hand drifting down to your stomach. And though you didn’t think they had lied, you took the paperwork the nurse offered you before rushing to the nearest pharmacy where you’d purchased three different pregnancy tests. 

An hour later you were sitting on the bathroom floor staring at various phrases or symbols all signalling that you were definitely expecting - ‘3+ weeks’ one test in particular read. 

You knew you couldn’t be much further along than that, you’d gotten your period shortly after arriving in Denver. You were certain of that because you’d forgotten to pack anything and Cale had had to run to the store on his way home from camp. 

Though your initial reaction beyond disbelief was joy, you were worried about how Cale would take the news. You’d only been together for 5 months and while he’d expressed that he’d be open to having kids if the situation was right...you just didn’t know. 

It had taken you almost 24 hours to come to the conclusion that you just had to trust that Cale would be as happy as you were. This baby was part of both of you and it wasn’t like things between you were anything but good. Knowing that Cale would be home the following night, you set to work on figuring out how to tell him. Heading out to the store you found a retro looking Avalanche sleeper. You’d stopped into a second hand book store while you were out, looking more for something for you to read than anything else but you’d stumbled upon the children’s book ‘goodnight hockey’ and it seemed like the perfect addition to the little package you were putting together. 

Wrapping up the sleeper and book with one of the pregnancy tests, you sat down trying to think about what you wanted to say to Cale with the card. It had come to you as you were going to bed and after writing it down, you tucked the card back into the envelope writing Cale’s name on the front. 

The next day was the longest wait of your life but you were determined to tell Cale when he got home, the secret you’d been hiding for two days already eating at you. It was late...really late and you’d moved from the couch to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate when you heard Cale’s key in the door. 

As he stumbled into the kitchen he seemed surprised that you were still awake, but he’d leaned in to kiss you quickly. Only then did he notice the package on the counter, his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it. 

“What’s that?” He questioned, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the back of the barstool. 

“A present. For you.” You murmured softly, sending him a sneaky smile as you poured boiling water into your mug on the counter. 

“My birthday isn’t for two weeks sweetheart...can’t it wait?” He asked, leaning against the counter. 

“No, it can’t.” You insisted. “Open it now.” Cale eyed you for a minute before immediately reaching for the wrapping paper, causing you to glare at him in disbelief. 

“Who taught you how to open presents?” You exclaimed. “Open the card first…” Cale rolled his eyes playfully before grabbing the card off the front of the box, slipping the little note card out of the envelope. 

Daddy hopes I get mommy’s giggles, 

Mommy hopes I get daddy’s rosy cheeks, 

No matter what I’m going to be perfect, 

You’ll see for yourself in about 36 weeks. 

You watched as his eyes glazed over, his brain struggling to process given the late hour. Setting the card aside, he tore into the paper on the box frantically, pulling the lid off to reveal all of the goodies tucked inside. You watched, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, as Cale bypassed the pregnancy test instead pulling the sleeper from the box. Just as quickly though, he reached back inside, his jaw dropping as the stick with the word ‘pregnant’ stared back at him. 

“We’re having a baby?” The words spilled from his lips as tears rolled down his cheeks. “You’re serious?”

“I’m pregnant Cale.” You confirmed. “You’re gonna be a dad.” Closing the few steps between you, Cale wrapped his arms around you, spinning you once before burying his head into your neck. 

“I can’t…” He mumbled into your skin. “You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You insisted. “3 home pregnancy tests and a clinic test all confirm.” Although Cale seemed happy, his lack of an official reaction was starting to worry you slightly. When he kissed you though, you took that as a good sign, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Please tell me you’re okay with this…” You whispered, shifting your fingers to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “...because I know this wasn’t planned and it happened sooner than I think we were expecting…” 

“We’re having a baby.” Cale repeated, his tone awestruck. “Fuck sweetheart...of course I’m okay with this.” He breathed, shaking his head as if to pull him out of the daze he was in. “You’re having my baby.” He stated, his grin growing. “I’m shocked but...good shocked.” Kissing you again gently, Cale pulled back and immediately dropped to his knees, his hands sliding across your lower stomach. 

This was the kind of reaction you’d hoped for, better than you’d hoped for even, and you felt your own tears fall as Cale nuzzled against your stomach, kissing gently over the skin there through your shirt. 

“Baby says happy early birthday daddy.” You whispered, staring down at him. 

++ 

You’d spent the rest of that night talking about your surprise blessing, Cale’s palm never leaving your stomach. It had been perfect, just perfect. 

“Oh this is so wonderful.” Laura exclaimed. “How far along are you?” She pressed, her eyes drifting down to your where your baby bump would soon be growing. 

“8 weeks.” You replied. “So still very early but the doctor says everything looks good. We’re due mid-june.” You explained, laughing as Laura expressed her happiness by bouncing up and down. 

She hugged you again before moving to wrap Cale in her arms, the two of them whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. With his wife having expressed her excitement, Gary slid around the counter and pulled you into a hug as well. 

“Congratulations. Can’t wait to meet my grandbaby.” He expressed, squeezing you a second time before moving to pat Cale on the back. You knew Cale needed this moment with his parents, so you turned your attention to the pot of soup bubbling away on the stovetop. 

This year has been full of so many secrets: the disaster around Cale’s pregnancy scare with Sara, your exchanged feelings in March, dating for two months without anyone knowing, moving to Denver, and now the fact that your little family is growing. 

And though the baby was going to remain a secret to some people for a little while longer, one thing was absolutely not a secret: you were in love with your best friend and he was in love with you. Your journey together was only just beginning. 

Cale’s early birthday present: 

[twilitty]

3 & 3 bella x jacob for your fic ask game? 👀👉🏻👈🏻

Thank you for the ask! I almost went wayyy overboard with this so I had to rein myself in lol I hope you enjoy it! Just a sweet little date to the movies (1.2k words) warning: this was not proof read lol so ignore any mistakes please

It was Billys idea for Jake and I to go to the movies, or rather, it was his idea for us to leave his house and suggested the movie theatre to ensure we’d be gone for a length of time. Billy Black, while a fan of both his son and I, is not a fan of having his living room dominated by us. After our latest movie recorded over his baseball game he told us we had to find another place to go, and that once the MLB season was over we’d be allowed back in the house. This seems to affect Jacob more than it does me.

“I don’t see why he can’t just go watch with Harry or your dad or something,” He complains to me after we pile into my truck, him taking over the drivers seat because apparently I make him nauseous. No, not me, my driving abilities. It’s a common argument in our relationship although our arrangement of him driving works better for both of us. I get to look out the window and choose the music, he is saved from the migraine and stomach ache my driving supposedly causes.

“That’s his house, we shouldn’t be kicking him out,” I say while sliding through radio stations. “Besides this way we get movie popcorn not the microwave stuff.” This way I am also forced to dress in something other than sweatpants and a big t-shirt, which seems to be my uniform whenever I’m at the Blacks. This is my first time wearing jeans in nearly a week, the texture is familiar and rejuvenates my confidence. I mentally thank Billy.

“That’s my house,” the boy next to me says, sounding just a little bit like a scorned toddler. “I should get some rights to the TV.”

“You get TV rights once baseball is over,” I say, rephrasing what his father told us. I have no idea when the baseball season officially ends, or even when it started. And, I don’t dare say this for fear that Jake’s mood will remain negative, but I think another sport comes after baseball. Maybe football? Or hockey? Jacob will likely not get TV rights until he moves out and buys his own TV.

“Yeah, yeah, just not the same thing.”

The drive into Port Angeles, which houses the nearest theatre, is comfortable and quiet except for new age rock playing through the speakers. Jake has tried to install an aux input, so I can play music from my phone, but I won’t let him. I enjoy the radio, and besides there are too many choices on my phone.

The movie theatre is dead. It’s not a deal day and no new movies have been released, or at least not any popular movies. The theatre is hosting Actress Night, where they showcase some of the highest ranking movies from an actress previously voted on. It’s Julia Roberts tonight, Jennifer Aniston tomorrow, and some other woman we’re way too young to know the name of after that. Jake purchases us two tickets, I pick up the bill for popcorn and drinks.

This is one of my favourite things about being with Jacob. It’s so easy. He pays for some stuff and I pay for some and sometimes when we’re both broke we just sit at home and eat stale pretzels while watching Real Housewife reruns. I don’t have to worry about owing him money or the scales of our relationship being tipped unevenly.

The room which hosts our movie, Pretty Woman, is nearly empty except for a few middle aged couples sitting near the front. “I’ll never understand why adults congregate at the front like that, it must hurt their eyes to be so close to the screen,” I mumble as we pass two men sitting so close their heads are tilted completely upwards just to see the opening advertisements.

“Or,” Jacob tells me, “They’ll be too busy getting funky to watch.” That’s the other thing with dating Jacob Black, he enjoys saying things that he knows get under my skin. He’s brash, bold, saying whatever he wants. I’m a little more timid, and this is something I never forget when I’m with him.

“Ohmigod.” I duck my head, grabbing his wrist to pull him up the glow-in-the-dark stairs. “I doubt they’re… getting funky.” His wrist twists and I end up holding his hand, him stepping up to be on the same level as me.

“Bella, come on, adults always come to the movies to get freaky-”

“Stop with the lingo or I leave,” I bluff. “No more funky or freaky, got it, Black?”

He squeezes my hand once, smiling down at me with mild humour, russet skin illuminated by the stairs. I love his smile. “Alright,” he agrees with a sideways pull of his mouth, trying to hide a laugh. “But you better not be expecting anything spicy from me tonight.” A woman turns over her shoulder to look at us, a frown impeding on her expression. Jake notices this and guffaws a little too loudly. “Come on, let's go.”

He pulls me up the stairs to the very top level, my feet all too willing to carry me away from the scowling woman. We sit in the middle of the row and I can hear Jessica in my mind, the back row is for more than kissing. I should know, Mike and I always sit in the back row. Angela had a field day with this information, by which I mean every time she and I went to the movies she would actively avoid the back row so as to not contaminate her clothing with the supposedly filthy seats. Now, sitting next to my boyfriend in the more than kissing row, I am feeling a little worried about the state of our seats.

The movie title rolls as Jake slides his phone off and places it in my purse, which he dutifully places on the seat next to him. “To make sure nobody snatches it,” he informs me, even though out of all twelve people in the room, we are the only ones up here. The popcorn stays on his lap, pushed against the arm rest so I can access it without needing to lean all the way over. He won’t let me hold the bag, which is my own fault. I tend to hoard my movie snacks and he is most definitely not letting that happen.

As the movie opens, Julia Roberts dressed scantily, Jake takes my hand in his as I reach for popcorn. “If you finish this within the first fifteen minutes I will be very disappointed in you.” He whispers it, sending a pointed look at me, as if I’m known for my Olympic-level popcorn eating skills. I am not known for this skill, and the only person aware of it is Jacob Black and he seems hell bent on making sure I don’t eat my share and then his.

“You’re such a nerd,” I whisper back, but even I can hear the smile in my voice. He releases my hand for a moment before recatching it and twining his fingers through mine. We sit like this for a while, hand in hand, me craving a sticky handful of popcorn and him all too happy to watch me struggle to eat with my free hand.

The movie continues, Jake whispering criticisms in my ear as new events and plot turns take place. When Julia is denied help at the expensive store he whispers, “I would have served her,” then with a look at my expression he quickly back peddles, “not ‘cause she’s pretty but ‘cause she deserves respect and service. You gotta treat people fairly, you know.” Then we lapse back into silence.

The movie ends, I take the empty cups and popcorn bag, Jake takes my purse and informs me that it brings out the honey shades in his eyes. I’m not sure he even knows what that means, but let him hold my purse because he enjoys doing things like that. Sometimes I bring my purse even when I don’t need it, just so he can hold onto it.

[purpleandgreen13]

Inktober Day 2

Favourite Crop

Day 2 and Harvey gets parsnips from the farmer. He decides to do something nice in return.

Spring Year 1

Doctor Harvey is sitting in the reception on a particularly and noticeably stagnant day in the clinic he runs in Pelican Town. Lewis called in for some eye-drops at 9.00am promptly, but since then he has no business all day. He was tempted to close up shop when the door creaked open and in stepped the farmer.

“Afternoon Doctor Harvey!” The farmer spoke cheerily. “Ooh, it’s quiet today.” They peer around the empty space of the waiting room. “Never mind, the first crop of this year’s parsnips are ready! Bumper one too! I’ve brought you a few to taste!”

Harvey’s moustache quirked as he smiled. The farmer is always so kind. He hoped that they would make a success of that old farm they’d taken over, they worked so hard, they deserved it.

He takes the parsnips with thanks and bids the farmer good day. They wave at the door one last time, “Gotta go Doctor Harvey, farm work is never ending and these parsnips won’t give themselves away!”

That evening, after a frustratingly quiet day, Harvey has energy to spare and his thoughts linger on the kindnesses the new farmer has bestowed on him recently; almost daily coffee, pickles in little jars, just enough for one person, little samples of truffle oil.

It’s time he returned the favour he decided.

He gets out his laptop and searches for parsnip recipes.

“Soup!” He says to no-one in particular. “Perfect.”

He never cooks. The microwave he has may be the most overworked piece of equipment in his poor excuse for a kitchen. Harvey is usually too tired after a day in clinic to cook proper meals and somehow it seems such a waste of time to be cooking for one. Microwave meals are very handy.

But today he decides to make something from scratch for the farmer to pay them back for all their kindness.

He spends a few minutes making a list and goes next door to Pierre’s general store to pick up ingredients.

Milk and vinegar, along with an onion, celery, a carrot, thyme and ginger.

If he’s read the recipe correctly, he just chops everything up and throws it in a pan. Right? Right?!

He hands the money over to Pierre. “Can I borrow your kitchen for a couple of hours, before you have dinner today?” Harvey knows that the family has dinner late after closing up the shop. This will give him a chance to cook the soup and clean up after himself.

“Sure Harv.” Says Pierre, “You know you can use it anytime. You should get Robin to build you a proper kitchen one day.”

“I will when I’ve paid for the clinic.” He laughs, “One day in the far distant future.”

In the kitchen he gets to work. He’s absolutely clueless about cooking and has to go back to clinic after cutting himself twice with a knife and burning the cuff of his shirt on the gas ring.

Finally, after a lot of trial and error, he has something resembling soup. A bit lumpy in parts and he may have added a touch too much pepper, but it’s edible.

He’s very proud.

He carefully decants the soup into a plastic container ready for delivery to his neighbour the farmer.

The next day, the farmer opens the door to a beaming Dr Harvey. It’s 6.30am.

“Morning Farmer!” Harvey says breezily.

The farmer ruffles their hair in consternation. What time did Harvey get up this morning to be so chipper and be here so early? The Farmer has only just got up.

Harvey’s moustache droops, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no, it’s fine doctor, please, come in.”

For the first time Harvey crosses the threshold of the farm. It’s tiny. He’s not a small man and with the two of them standing there the room feels stiflingly small.

“I um, brought you something.” He takes the precious plastic container out of his bag, “I made you soup. You know, with those parsnips you gave me?”

“You- you made me soup?” Asks the farmer incredulously.

“Yeah. Parsnip flavoured. I figured parsnip must be your favourite right? You grow hundreds of them, you’re always giving them away to everyone. Every time someone passes you in the square, you’ve always got bunches of parsnips as presents, it’s like you can’t get rid of them fast enoughandOhdearYobayourreallyhateparsnipsdon’tyou?" His words run into one another as the penny drops.

The farmer presses their lips together and raises their eyebrows in assertion.

“Soooo, parsnip soup, the inherent essence of parsnip, parsnip boiled down to its most basic components would be your worst nightmare?”

The farmer tilts their head and raises their eyebrows again, wishing Harvey would stop saying parsnip. Just when they thought Harvey’s moustache couldn’t look any sadder it falls further and his cheeks redden.

Adorable thinks the farmer, not for the first time.

Seeing his pride turn to disappointment the farmer grins at him in solace, “Harvey, this was a wonderful thing to do for me! But yes, I hate parsnips more than anything in the world." They continue hurriedly, before the moustache falls to the ground and the farmer has to chase it around the fields, "I AM hungry though, so why don’t you let me buy you breakfast at Gus’s while I tell you all of the things I like and don’t like so that next time you cook for me, you’ll know?”

Harvey laughs too. Maybe this plan didn’t turn out so badly after all.

Wait. Next time?

[monomonomagines]

October Prompt #22 Abandoned Amusement Park with Kazuichi

Every few weeks or so you were used to going out with Kazuichi to look for spare parts for his newest projects. The whole ordeal certainly sounded as though it was an easy process and to an outsider may even sound like a pleasant way to pass the time. However, the reality of the matter is that you aren’t even sure how Kazuichi can manage to constantly go to the richer neighborhoods and take all the appliances he can home with him without anyone batting an eye but you’ve seen it enough times to vouch that no one really minds. And sure, it wasn’t illegal as he did tell you but it just felt weird going out just to haul broken microwaves home with him.

This on the other hand was no small haul he had found. Nor was it what you thought he meant when he invited you to “the amusement park,” simply leaving out a few key details as to where you were going if it wasn’t that he just forgot them altogether. Although, maybe that was your fault as well for expecting Kazuichi to ask you out on an amusement park date when he had such terrible motion sickness. Truthfully, you knew all along that there was literally zero chance that he could go on a ride without blowing chunks but why silence the romantic deep down within you, right? How you wished you didn’t just go along with that silly little thought earlier.

Now you were faced with a small wave of disappointment that you had to swallow down as you match Kazuichi’s big grin as the two of you enter not an amusement park for a cute date but rather an abandoned one for more parts than he could dream of. Parts to help him finish old projects and start new ones. Parts to help him think of more projects to do or how to fix things and make them work better than ever before! No matter the reason there was no containing his excitement and boy was it contagious!

Say goodbye to that disappointment you felt earlier because Kazuichi’s excitement is that of a child’s in a candy store. The whole time he’d be dragging you along looking for parts that he can safely get off of a ride or booth or whatever else was laying around, for people like you two to pick clean. The only thing was, it felt a bit odd to be finding so much when this place looked like it had been abandoned for what you assumed to be years. Sure there were some parts that were definitely unusable from how far they had been weathered by the elements as they lay helpless against their unrelenting force but most of the pieces were in such great condition that Kazuichi would get so excited that he’d go on a huge ramble.

Finding another gem hidden amongst a mess of rusted parts, Kazuichi pulled out a small gear, marveling at it as he turned it over in his hands.

“S/o look! Another one to take home and put to use! I feel like I really owe it to the people that abandoned this place for leaving so many great parts.”

Beaming at you, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy now as you answered him, “Yeah! That’s great, Kaz but could I ask you something about this place?”

Picking up on your serious tone, his smile fades. A new concerned look crossing his features now to take its place. You didn't seem to be enjoying yourself as much and at this point, he had already scared himself into thinking he blew it. What was he thinking taking you to some amusement park to go junk hunting!? What was he doing taking you to hunt for parts in general!? God you probably hate him and-

“Kaz?”

Leaning down to look at him more closely he nearly lets out a shriek. Far too lost in his own thoughts to even have realized that he didn’t even answer you.

“I-I’m fine! I uh...I just was thinking about your question.” He replies, scrambling to form a cohesive sentence as he looks into your eyes, expression softening as he catches his breath finally. “I found the place accidentally actually.”

“Accidentally?” You inquire furrowing your brow as you think on what he said.

“Look, it’s fine if this isn’t your thing, I know it’s probably really not the most romantic and I’m sure it’s not any fun that I can’t ride the rides so we can just-”

“Kaz! You’re spiraling again. I love you so I always enjoy our time together.” You admit, noticing an excitable twinkle in his eyes as your words register.

“S/oooo! That’s why you’re the best!” He beams at you, a silly lovestruck expression now on his face as his worries float far away from him. That is until your next words bring him back to reality.

“It’s just...I could’ve sworn this was that old amusement park that everyone claimed would get you a curse or something just from stepping inside.”

That was when the panic set in. Now instead of finding anything romantic or to be some amazing good luck, Kazuichi was feeling his blood go cold.

With his eyes losing any shine in them and his skin looking pale he can only repeat your words seeming to be lost again in the deep abyss of his mind.

“C-cursed?” His voice came out broken, almost sounding like a mix of a whisper and a hoarse screech as his eyes stayed glued to you. Seeming to latch on as if you were the only thing tethering him to the mortal plane right now.

“Yes...but I’m sure that it’s just some...some rumor.”

“I DON’T CARE IF IT IS! LET’S JUST GET OUT OF HERE!”

Immediately going into panic mode, Kazuichi began to scramble for the exit, pulling you by the hand as he shrieked and cried the whole way. Only stopping his mad run to catch a breath once the two of you were far away enough that he deemed you both safe.

Letting out a puff of air as you try to catch your breath with him, Kazuichi pulls you into a tight hug wetting your shirt with tears as he leans into you. “S/o you don’t think we’ll really be cursed right? I didn’t get us cursed did I!?”

Feeling his frame shaking against you, you wrap your arms around him in return reassuring him that it’ll be ok with a kiss to his head. “I don’t think we will. Besides, even if we are I won’t blame you. I’ll always be yours, cursed or not.”

Smiling down at him as he lifts his head to look up at you with teary eyes, he utters out a small but endearing, “I love you, S/o. Never leave me.”