#when this is over i will make a cherry pie with a lattice top

[america-oreosandkitkats]

do you guys think i should do something ✨fun✨ when i hit my 50th application submitted since january 25?

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,��� you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine…Dean Making You A Pie

Pairing: Dean x reader

A/N: Happy belated Thanksgiving!

_______

“Y/N!” called Dean. You popped your head up from your book on the back porch on the fall day, Dean stepping out the back door with a big smile. “Come on sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“Nothing. I have a surprise,” he said. He grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the house, your jaw dropping.

“Dean! What happened to the kitchen!” It looked like most of the counter top was covered in flour and some kind of batter, a white dust stuck to the cabinets, something red splattered on the floor. There were dirty dishes, utensils and baking supplies everywhere but Dean left you be and went to the wire rack by the oven.

“I made a pie,” he said. He pointed at the counter, a big smile on his face. “By myself. I mean I followed your recipe but I did it on my own for once. What do you think? Want to try some?”

“I would love to and I love that you decided to try baking on your own,” you said. You looked up and saw something on the ceiling, cocking your head.

“Are you freaking out about the mess?” 

“Um.” You looked around, eyes landing on the pie. The room was an absolute disaster but he looked so proud of himself. You’d made him pies more times than you could count and more recently he started helping out when you did. “Actually no. I um, it’s just a little messy but we can deal with it later. Cut me a piece of pie.”

“Definitely. I want to see how it compares,” he said. You made a clear spot at the island and Dean brought over the pie, carving out a slice for the two of you. He hummed and set it down on a plate you got out, quickly getting a fork.

“Oh is this cherry?” you asked, breaking off a piece.

“Yup,” he said, smiling as you took a bite. You chewed once before you paused, bitter and salt and thick chewiness hitting you. 

“Good right?” he asked. You chewed again, forcing your face to stay neutral. He took the fork from you and dug in, his face freezing the second he chewed. “Y/N.”

You hummed, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You don’t have to eat this.”

“Thank you,” you said, going over to the trash can and spitting it out. He quickly joined you, shaking out his body. “Dean sweetie. How much salt did you put in?”

“It said 1 cup? Or one teaspoon?”

“Yeah definitely not a cup. But your filling was decent.”

“I forgot the sugar in it, didn’t I.”

“Yeah just a little,” you said. “Presentation is great though. I love the lattice work. You did really good.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s fine. It’s actually quite impressive,” you said as Sam walked in from the garage. “Sam it was your turn to clean the kitchen this week wasn’t it?”

“I’m going to Eileen’s,” he said, turning around.

“Sammy-“

“Nope. Not my problem. Screw the chore chart. I’ll see you guys at Eileen’s for dinner,” he said.

“Wait! Try my pie. I made it myself,” said Dean. He smiled and Sam sighed, taking the fork from Dean and grabbing a piece. He plopped it in his mouth and frowned, looking around before spitting it into the garbage. 

“I hate you,” said Sam, Dean chuckling as he left.

“So should we clean up?”

“Yes but then we can try making pie dough again and another filling and this time I guarantee it’ll be amazing.”

“Can we do it tomorrow? I’m kinda exhausted,” he said.

“Sure. You can sit with me on the porch and cuddle then after we clean up.”

“That sounds like a perfect afternoon to me sweetheart.”

________

[fshoulders]

I’m a little weird about surprising people with baked goods. And pie is the very best, because a pie is such a glory!

I just did this today on a larger scale than usual. (Usually I…don’t tell my spouse I’m making a pie, then super-casually leave it out cooling or ask him to take it out of the oven in ten minutes while I hurry off because I’m almost late to an appointment.) My friends asked us over to (COVID-cautious backyard) dinner and I asked if I could bring anything. “Dessert? Bread?” (I was already plotting.) They had bread covered; I could bring dessert if I wanted to, but I shouldn’t feel obliged. THEY FELL INTO MY TRAP

So I:

hit the farmstand for cherries on the way home but bought local blueberries instead;

made pie crusts and seasoned them in the fridge;

consulted my pie testaments, rejected their strictures and modified a recipe instead, added 2 unexpected off-book spices feeling like a wildly creative and intuitive domestic goddess;

made a lattice top, crafted a really awkward bunch of ‘botanically accurate blueberry blossoms with leaves’ that looks more like a rejected monster design from The Thing;

baked the pie and ran upstairs to scrub the oven-sweat off my face and put on presentable pants;

pulled the pie out just in time to leave and put it in my two-decker Amish-made pie basket (a gift from relatives who wanted pie);

tried to hold it level between my feet all the way up hill and down dale to our friends’ house; dribbled blueberry pie juice in the car footwell, on my pants cuff, all the way up their deck;

off and on through dinner worried about the weird spices I’d so blissfully added;

cut my pretty lattice and served out pieces to my hosts, graciously accepted compliments but was still somehow surprised it was goddamn delicious!

And I tell you all this to emphasize how completely ridiculous and irrational it is that I did every single step of this with incredibly smug mischievous glee in my heart, like I’m pulling The World’s Most Perfect Prank, like I’m an unstoppable chaos goblin, like can you believe I’m going to pull this off!? They won’t expect a pie, and yet there will be a pie! Those rubes, those absolute fools! No one expects a beautiful* lattice-topped berry pie when I said ‘oh I’ll umm get something while I’m out’! I’m laughing in my wicked, wily insides the entire time, pulling off the lid of the pie basket and suppressing the deep evil cackles that rise like bubbles from my dark gooey heart. 😈

*The flowers were not beautiful but they were edible so I don’t think anyone minded. I figured I should show them. I may be a mischievous pie faerie, but I need to stay humble:

[amadokirino]

good afternoon from the pie shop, where I'm slinging slices to an alarming number of people as always. I struggle with the amount of people coming in here every day to eat pie. all hours, every day of the week, grown adults are coming in with a desperate need to throw pie in their mouth, and if I don’t have the flavor they want they throw a shameless little fit at the counter, stomping their feet and crossing their arms like they���ve been robbed of something they deserve. and I'm the evil person standing between them and their little treat. it makes me feel embarrassed for them. I don’t know why I feel this way. I suppose its just a manifestation of my disdain for still working in food service. 

but the pie is beautiful ok? the uniformity of the 10″ circles placed side by side, in varying colors and textures, each holding a different flavor. the meticulous placement of the ribbons of dough for the lattice top pies, filled with gorgeous apples, blueberries, cherries, strawberries, rhubarb root, heated up and mingling with spices and sugar and milk and butter. I would like to watch the bakers make them. i like to place them in their little white boxes where they fit just right, close it up and send it away on it’s journey through Brooklyn and onto someones table to be served up with ice cream and conversation. 

so yeah I like the pie. the pie is beautiful. a pie is for bringing to a party. that’s acceptable. it’s the people who come in regularly to eat like three slices of pie at a time. they freak me out. maybe it’s fat phobia maybe its jealousy as someone with anorexic tendencies and the shock of watching someone binge in broad daylight right in front of me like that. lmao. at the shop we call these people “pie people.” they come in with this gluttonous look in their eyes and they twiddle their thumbs and buy an entire pie and then open the box and get a fork and just start eating the pie right from the box like they've been starving for days. then they hit the bathroom and piss all over the toilet and leave the sink running and just exit the building to go be part of the world.... 

just seeing my disdain written out like this makes me giggle at the absurdity. I still love you if you are addicted to sugar. I’m addicted to salt! and pot. we all have our shit. I AM A COMPASSIONATE PERSON I swear to fucking god. and I simultaneously am so riddled with confusion and astonishment at the way people interact with the world them. people must think the same when they see me on an off day. 

[raindancer2004]

The Elite Guard Bake Off

Word Count: 3,492 Demetri x reader One shot Warnings: Fluff, occassional use of swear words

I got the idea for this after watching the ‘The Great British Bake Off’ yesterday afternoon. Hope you like it...

Summary: It’s a quiet saturday afternoon in the castle, the Elite Guards have the weekend off and Demetri’s mate is bored. What happens when she decides to bring Bake Off to the castle...?

It was Saturday morning and to say Y/N was bored was an understatement. It was so quiet in the castle; it had been that way for three days. There had been no trials or dismemberments and even the guards were surprised as there’s always something going on. On the flip side they were glad it was quiet as it meant guard duty was easy and they had more time to themselves.

Demetri was enjoying the extra time with Y/N having been given the weekend off along with Felix and the twins following them being away for ten days on a mission dealing with and silencing a threat to their world.

Y/N was in the library with the four elite guards, all doing their own thing; Y/N was listening to Demetri read aloud, Felix was trying to solve a sudoku puzzle and the twins were comparing different copies of ‘Alice in Wonderland.’ Y/N let out a small sigh “What’s wrong mi amore?” Demetri asked looking down at her “I’m just a little bored, that’s all” Y/N replied, Demetri closed his book and adjusted her in his arms so he could see her better “I can’t have that. What would you like to do?”  Y/N thought for a moment, then an idea struck her “I’m popping out with Gianna quickly…” “Why?” Demetri cut her off, an eyebrow raised “I’ll explain when I get back. I promise” She replied “Be careful please” “I will. I love you” She kissed him before getting up off the sofa to go and find Gianna “Oh, I need the four of you to stay together” She called over her shoulder.

“Our little human is quite amusing” Felix mused; the twins hummed in response “I’m curious about what’s she up to” Alec wondered out loud “I think we all are brother” Jane replied, Felix and Demetri nodded.

Y/N found Gianna in her room “Hi Gianna, are you free for a few hours?” Y/N asked “Hi Y/N, yes I am why’s that?” “Well, I’m a little bored but have come up with an idea for something to do and I need your help” Gianna looked at her for a few moments before replying “What do you have in mind?” “I’ll tell you once we are no longer in the castle. Come on we need to go shopping for stuff” Y/N replied and gently pulled Gianna out of the room.

Y/N and Gianna went to the shop and bought some ingredients and some baking equipment “Are we going to buy them mixers?” Gianna asked “Nope, they’re vamps, they can mix the stuff by hand using a spoon. I think a mixer may just complicate things” Y/N replies “Good call Y/N” “This is going to be fun” Y/N said smiling, Gianna nodded “It’ll also be funny to watch too.” They also pick up an apron and have it personalised with a slogan, minus the name as they do not know who’ll win.

Gianna and Y/N arrived back at the castle and made their way to the kitchen to set things up. A set of ingredients were placed on each of the four tables in the kitchen along with an apron and baking equipment. “What are you girls up to this afternoon?” Marcus asks as he passes them in the corridor “We are setting the Elite Guards a baking challenge” Y/N replied low “Sounds interesting. Have fun” he replied and continued on his way.

They went to Gianna’s desk and quickly typed out a recipe and instructions, deliberating omitting the cooking times. They made four copies and laid them on the tables beside the aprons. Gianna stayed in the kitchens double checking everything was in place that was needed whilst Y/N went to the library to get Demetri, Felix and the twins.

Y/N entered the library and wrapped her arms around Demetri’s neck from behind and leaned in to nibble his ear before whispering “Miss me?” He chuckled low “Always darling.” “Have fun shopping? You weren’t gone long” Alec asked “I did have fun and Gianna and I were out just long enough to get what we needed. Please follow me to the kitchen and everything will be revealed” She smiled at them and held her hand out to Demetri. He stood and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and walked with her to the kitchen, Felix and the twins following.

“Hello Gianna” Demetri greeted her with a smile as they entered the kitchen “Hello Demetri” She replied smiling. “Ok, so first things first please go and stand behind a table each” Y/N instructed and watched as the four guards did as she asked. They murmured amongst themselves, wondering what was going on “You’re probably wondering why you’re here” Gianna spoke first and the guards nodded, a sign for her to continue “As it’s quiet today and Y/N was a little bored she came up with a fun way to pass the time” She stopped and looked to Y/N, who nodded “What’s your idea hunny?” Jane asked “My idea is Elite Guard Bake Off” She replied smiling “We can’t bake” Felix said pointing at himself and then the other three vampires “You can all read yes?” Y/N asked and they all nodded “Good, then you can bake” She replied smiling. Felix mumbled something so low Y/N and Gianna couldn’t hear it. “Speak for yourself” Alec replied equally as low.

Y/N ignored them and continued “You all have the same ingredients and the equipment needed to complete the task.” Demetri stood there smiling at Y/N, looking smug and feeling grateful his mate was human and loved to bake, for he had watched ‘The Great British Bake Off’ with her and has seen her bake cakes a few times. “What are we making then?” Alec asked, curiosity shining in his eyes “You are all making a Cherry Lattice Pie. You also need to make a Vanilla custard to go with the pie. You should note that we have removed the baking time of the pie. You will need to figure that part out yourselves…” “Like the technical challenges set by Paul and Prue” Demetri stated still smiling, cutting Y/N off “Exactly babe” Y/N replied nodding and noticed the confused expressions on Felix and the twin’s faces. “You have two hours to complete the challenge. Oh and Felix, this is not Mario Kart so there will be no sabotaging the others” He nodded “Ok” “Ready, set, bake” Gianna instructed them, both humans watched as the four vampires picked up their recipes and began to read them.

Y/N and Gianna sat and watched the vampires weigh out the ingredients and begin the process of making the pastry base. “The technical challenges are usually judged blind, darling” Demetri stated “I know but we want to see how you get on with the tasks…” “You mean laugh at us if we fuck this up” Felix stated “Precisely” Gianna smiled back, Felix growled “I have every faith in you Felix” She added.

Y/N was impressed when she saw how well Demetri was doing, he had made his pastry and put it in the fridge to chill and greased the pie tin in the meantime. He then prepared the cherries as per the recipe and set them to one side to start making the jam that would be mixed with the cherries later. A glance over at Felix’s table and it was clear he was struggling to make the pastry “Urrgghh I can’t do this” He growled “Yes you can Felix, just read the instructions again” Y/N advised.

Jane had made her pastry but did not chill it, instead choosing to leave it sitting at room temperature. Demetri laughed at this, as he knew it was best to chill pastry before rolling. ‘Thank you Bake Off’ he thought to himself. Alec on the other hand was covered in flour and was busy mixing the ingredients together to make the pastry, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Y/N and Gianna found it funny to watch the guards complete the challenge with varying degrees of success.

“Demetri’s quite good at this baking stuff” Gianna whispered “I know, but then he has watched Bake Off with me and seen me bake cakes” She whispered low. Meanwhile, Demetri removed the pastry from the fridge and divided it in two. He rolled out the bigger portion of pastry quickly whilst being careful to not over work it, and placed it in the greased tin, gently pushing it into the sides. He then filled the pie, discarding the leftover juice at the bottom of the bowl of Cherries. He then rolled out the smaller portion of the pastry and cut into strips and began to weave the strips on top of the pie to create the lattice effect. He was the first one to put his pie in the oven and set a timer on his phone for one hour. He felt quite proud of himself and found it funny that Felix was struggling.

“You have one hour and fifteen minutes left” Y/N called out “Shit” Felix growled “The pastry keeps splitting” “Just patch it up, I did” Alec called out as he was filling his pie crust. Jane giggled at the mess that her brother and Felix had made. She finished her lattice pattern and put her pie in the oven, setting a timer on her phone for fifty-five minutes. “This is so much fun to watch” Gianna said smiling, Y/N nodded with a smile of her own.

Alec struggled with the lattice pattern and eventually gave up “I think it looks alright” He mumbled to himself and popped the pie into the oven “Timer forty-five minutes” He told his phone as his fingers were sticky from the cherry and jam mixture. Y/N was trying so hard not to laugh at him “To think he’s meant to be a dangerous predator” She whispered to Gianna “I know, he doesn’t look so scary now he’s covered in flour and jam” She whispered back, and they started laughing. The vampires all look up the giggling humans “See I told you, they’re taking the piss” Felix huffed “Oh leave them be, it probably is a little funny to them considering what we’re doing” Jane told him.

Felix was the last one to get his pie in the oven, the lattice pattern non-existent on his pie. “How long we got left?” Felix asks “About forty minutes” Y/N responded “That’ll do time wise for the pie. Now to make custard, whatever that is” He begins reading the instructions to make the Vanilla custard.

Aro appeared at the kitchen door “Marcus told me of your plans for the afternoon and I just had to see it for myself” He tried not to laugh at the scene in front him. “I trust you are all having fun?” “We are Aro, not sure about them” Y/N replied gesturing to the guards “I think you’re supposed to put that white stuff in the bowl Alec not wear it” Aro said teasingly and walked away laughing.

Demetri finished making his Vanilla custard and set it to one side and began cleaning the table he had used as his workstation. “How come you’re finished D?” Felix asked sounding irritated “I’m just better than you” Demetri replied smirking at his friend, Felix hissed at him “I also followed the instructions given, it’s not hard” He added smugly before turning to face the sink, Felix tossed a spoon at Demetri “Oi! Don’t be a dick” Demetri responded, rubbing the back of his neck “Are you alright babe?” Y/N asked “I’m fine darling, the spoon not so much” He replied, glaring at Felix.

Jane finished second and set her custard to one side too and began to clear up. “I think the custard has gone wrong” Alec said aloud, Jane appeared behind him and looked over his shoulder “It’ll be fine, just keep stirring it” She replied “Really?” “Yes, Alec really. Keep stirring until it becomes smooth like the recipe says” He nodded “Thank you Jane.”

“Here you go darling, Gianna” Demetri said as he handed them a cup of coffee each “Thanks babe” “Thank you Demetri” They replied. “You trying to bribe the judges?” Felix asked “No Fe, I’m not. I have some time to spare and thought I’d make them a drink seeing as I’m nearer the kettle than they are” He replied “Suck up” Felix growled and Jane rolled her eyes “How about you pick up the pace big guy. I mean you’re currently in last position again” Jane said smiling “Bite me” Felix growled “Nah, I’m alright, I don’t know where you’ve been” She retorted, Demetri and Alec laughing at their exchange.

Alec poured his custard into a jug and began to tidy up. “I hate baking. Stupid human thing” Felix grumbled “Oi, my mate’s a human and she isn’t stupid” Demetri said slapping the back of Felix’s head “Gianna isn’t stupid either” Jane added “Really? Well whose stupid idea was it to get us to bake? It certainly weren’t mine” Felix said as he looked at Y/N frowning, Demetri moved to stand between Felix and his mate “Look at her like that again and you’ll regret it Felix” Demetri growled his friend’s name “Come on Felix it’s just a bit a fun” Alec said as he licked his fingers and then scrunched his nose when he realised what he’d done. Gianna laughed “You alright Alec?” “Will be once I wash my hands.”

Felix finally finished his attempt at custard and very noisily began clearing away the mess he’d made. Demetri’s phone timer went off and he carefully removed his pie from the oven and put it on the table to cool down. He sat back down to wait for the others to finish.

“You have ten minutes left” Gianna called out. Demetri warmed the custard back up gently in the microwave and got some cutlery from the drawer for Y/N and Gianna. Jane eyed Demetri as she realised that he was her competition and although she had never cooked or baked before, something inside her told her she couldn’t lose to him. Once Demetri removed his custard from the microwave Jane popped hers inside to warm it through. “What are you doing sister?” “What’s it look like I’m doing?” Jane sounded a little snarky, Alec looked taken aback whilst Demetri bit his lip to stop himself from chuckling “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked would I, genius” Alec retorted, Demetri laughed, he’d never heard the twins talk like this to one another and it was rather amusing to him “Now, now you two. Play nice” “Get bent” Alec huffed at him.

“Five minutes” Y/N told them. “What happens once the time runs out?” Felix asked “We get to try the pies and custard you all made…” “That’s it?” Felix asked cutting Gianna off “No, we decide on who’s pie and custard is the best and the winner gets a prize” Y/N replied. “Noone said anything about a prize” Alec pointed out “It’s a competition Einstein, what did you think would happen? Jane asked, Alec hissed at her and Demetri chuckled, realising Y/N’s sarcasm had clearly rubbed off on Jane. “She’s like the Queen of snark” Gianna mused “I know, it’s weird that’s it’s aimed at Alec right?” Y/N replied.

Jane’s timer went off and she removed the pie from the oven and set it down on her table alongside the custard. Alec’s timer went off next and he placed his pie on the table and noticed the juice from the pie had bubbled down the sides, so the pastry was purple in places.

“Time’s up” Y/N called out just as Felix’s timer went off. Felix removed his pie from the oven and placed it beside the jug of custard on his table “Thank the Gods” He sighed “Someone got out the coffin the wrong side this morning” Y/N said looking at him, Demetri was doubled over laughing as were the twins. “I don’t sleep in a coffin” He replied, “You don’t sleep at all, dumbass” Jane added.

Y/N and Gianna made their way over to Jane’s table first and tried her pie and custard “Nice lattice work on the top. The pie looks even in colour” Y/N told her as Gianna cut two slices of pie and poured some custard into the bowl. “The pie tastes nice, the pastry is just about done” Gianna told Jane and she smiled “Thank you” “I agree with Gianna, a few more minutes in the oven and the pastry would have been perfect, that said the pie tastes nice and the custard is good too” Y/N added “Thanks” Jane replied with a smile.

They tried Demetri’s next. “The pie is cooked really well, pastry’s nice colour and well done on the lattice work. It tastes really really good. You can really taste the Vanilla in the custard” Y/N said before taking a second bite of the pie “Oh my god. That’s amazing Demetri” Gianna praised, Demetri puffed his chest out with pride and flashed them a big smile “Thanks girls.” “Teacher’s pet” Felix coughed out; Demetri ignored him.

They tried Alec’s attempt next “There’s too much sauce in the pie, hence the overflow and it needed about another fifteen minutes in the oven. The custard tastes alright though” Gianna told him softly, worried about his reaction “Please don’t hate me” She added quietly. “Gianna’s right another fifteen minutes and the pie would have been completely cooked through. The cherry and jam mixture is really good. The custard tastes good” Y/N said and gave him a small smile.

Lastly they tried Felix’s pie. “Wow, your pie has a soggy bottom…” Felix huffed and Alec laughed “Felix has a soggy bottom” Jane and Demetri rolled their eyes “They’re like children” Jane muttered. “The pie isn’t completely cooked as it needed another 20 minutes in the oven. Wow, your custard is really lumpy” Y/N told him. Gianna tried the pie and custard and struggled to hide her reaction “The custard doesn’t taste very nice and it’s lumpy. Also there’s too much sauce in the pie” Gianna added and Felix growled at her. “Oi! Behave” Demetri said, standing up “They’re just being honest Felix” Jane added “Yeah, but…I already said I couldn’t bake so I don’t need them telling me I’m shit at it” Felix replied pointing at Y/N and Gianna “Lighten up Felix, my attempt isn’t much better than yours and you don’t see me throwing a tantrum” Alec added, coming to stand beside Gianna.

Y/N and Gianna both agreed it was a tie between Jane and Demetri and ate some more of their pies “Why are they eating more of theirs?” Felix asked sounding disgruntled “They’re probably trying to decide whose is better” Alec replied. “We have made a decision” Y/N told them “May the best vamp win” Alec said looking between Jane and Demetri “I will” Jane said confidently “We’ll see” Demetri added.

“Y/N why don’t you get the prize ready” “Oh yeah, hang on” She replies and pulls out a grey apron with the slogan ‘I’m the castle’s best baker” in white writing and turns around showing it to the four guards “All this effort for that. Not bloody worth it if you ask me” Felix snorted “Don’t be a sore loser Felix” Y/N said, not bothering to look at him.

“The winner is…..Demetri” Gianna says smiling “Yes” Demetri calls out “It was really close, honestly” Y/N said looking at Jane. “It’s ok sweetie. I’ll beat him next time” She replied, nodding at the tracker “I look forward to the challenge” Demetri responded. “Seriously though, congratulations Dem” Jane said holding out her hand to him “Thank you Jane and well done, your pie does look really good” He replied shaking her hand.

Y/N put the apron over Demetri’s head and pulled him down for a kiss “Well done handsome” “Thanks beautiful” He replied and kissed her again. “Would I have gotten a kiss if I’d won?” Jane asked looking at Y/N and Demetri, her tone teasing “Maybe” Gianna smiled and gave her a playful wink. If Jane could have blushed, she would have “Ha. She got you good” Alec said laughing at Jane’s reaction. “Thank you for an entertaining afternoon, we’ll have to do it again sometime” Gianna said as she picked up Jane’s pie and custard “If noone minds, I’ll be taking this and going to watch a movie in my room” Gianna said and then left the kitchen, Jane smiled. “A movie sounds good Dem, what do you think?” “Sounds like a plan” He replied and kissed her again. “Bring the pie and custard please” “Of course darling” He was smiling proudly knowing that his mate liked the pie and custard he had made and that his first baked creation won him a prize, even if it was only an apron.

[honey-dewey]

Family Reunion

Pairing: Javier Peña /Reader

Word Count: 2,702

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, probably inaccurate Spanish, but otherwise none! This is all fluff!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Returning home is hard, but with you by Javier’s side, he can face anything. Including a Peña family reunion.

“I’m really not sure about this.”

You laughed, putting a hand on top of his and watching the Texas countryside pass you by. “Javi, it’s two days. What could possibly go wrong?”

Javier sighed. “Ay dios míos, you’re gonna regret saying that.”

The Peña family ranch was all set up for the reunion, and for the first time in a long time, Javier was actually able to go. He pulled up the driveway, face already scrunching as three women rushed out and stood eagerly on the edge of the driveway. “Here we go.”

Immediately, as soon as Javier’s feet hit the pavement, the three women were upon him, hugging and squealing that they’d missed him. You grinned, stepping out of the car and simply watching as Javier tried to brush off his sister’s affection.

Finally, once they were all done greeting Javier, he pulled you close to his side. “These are my older sisters, Maria, Cynthia, and Patricia.”

You smiled. “Pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Cynthia bounded back into the house, apparently eager to tell everyone Javier was home. Maria, who you were pretty sure was the oldest, helped you and Javier grab your bags and take them inside. While Javier got lost in the sea of family members who hadn’t seen him in a decade, you found near silence in Javier’s old bedroom, which was where you two would be sleeping.

“Y’know, Mamá couldn’t believe it when he called home to say he got married,” Maria said, setting Javier’s bag on his bed. “Our little Javi, all grown up and married.”

You put your bag down next to Javier’s. “Is he the youngest?”

“Nah,” Maria said, pointing to a framed photo on Javier’s nightstand. “Melissa and Lori are both younger than him.”

Examining the photo, you suppressed a grin. “He’s the only boy?”

Maria’s Cheshire grin grew. “Yeah.”

An unfamiliar woman poked her head into the room. “Is this Javi’s spouse?”

You nodded.

“Ah!” The woman pulled you into a tight hug. “Hi! I’m Melissa!”

“Lissa!” Javier said, and Melissa put you down with a pout. “Bájalos, ahora.”

Another call of Melissa’s name, and she was racing out of the room with a cheerful laugh, Maria hot on her heels.  

Javier fell onto the bed, and you pulled the door shut, falling next to him. “Home sweet home,” he groaned, putting his hands over his eyes.

You rolled over and ended up laying on Javier’s chest, resting your ear on his collarbones. “I like it,” you said softly.

After a few minutes of simply enjoying each other’s company, a loud shout echoed through the house, disrupting your peace. “Lori’s home!”

The house began to bustle, but you stayed on top of Javier, keeping him trapped. He didn’t seem to mind, and actually wound an arm around your back to keep you secure. Voices filtered around you, but they were fuzzy, like they were underwater or behind a closed door.

Finally, someone opened the door to Javier’s bedroom. “Hijo?”

“Si mamá?”

Javier’s mother looked at you on top of him and smiled. “Lori is home. Do you want to say hello?”

Javier sighed, and you laughed as you were lifted up as he breathed in. “Yeah, I’ll come say hi.”

He stood, and you stood with him. “Come on. You’ll like Lori.”

Lori, if you remembered correctly, was the youngest and the most mature. She looked damn near identical to Javier, despite her feminine features and the fact that she was clearly younger.

“Ah, you must be Javi’s spouse!” She said, shaking your hand. “Damn, Javi really knows how to pick them!”

You laughed. “Thank you, but I think I picked him.”

Lori smiled. “Of course. C’mon! Can you bake?”

Turned out, Lori needed help with the pies, and you and her spent almost half an hour making various pie crusts and fillings. Javier tried to help for a few minutes, but he got dragged off to help somewhere else. You waved as he went, following one of the younger cousins.

“So, how was Columbia?” Lori asked, mixing another apple pie mix in a glass bowl.

You took a breath, continuing to knead lest your emotions get the better of you. “Hard,” you finally admitted. “Very hard. I wasn’t even in the thick of the fighting most times, but it was harder than anything I’ve ever done. We had to move four times, and we caught bombs in Javi’s car on two separate occasions. It was a good day if no one shot at him, and then there was all that shit with Los Pepes.”

“Oh I heard about that,” Lori said sadly, grabbing another pie pan. “That must’ve been hell for him, not being there when they finally put a bullet in Escobar.”

“Steve called us immediately,” you said. “The body was still warm, I don’t think the news knew yet. But we did. Javier cried.”

Lori shrugged. “What’s he gonna do now?”

You looked around, making sure the kitchen was empty. “Going back.”

“What?”

You nodded. “They’re sending us back, something about the Cali cartel? I dunno, but apparently it’s big and it’s a problem. They want Javi because, well, he’s had connections with those people.”

“Oh,” Lori breathed, passing the pie to you so you could lattice it. “That’s awful.”

“That’s government work,” you said with a sigh.

Before Lori could speak again, Javier came back with two men, one of whom put an arm around Lori’s waist.

“David, this is Javier’s spouse,” Lori said, smiling as the man kissed her cheek. “The one who was working with the DEA.”

David nodded to you. “Pleasure. I’d shake your hand, but,”

You grinned, holding up your pie crust covered hands. “I’ll spare you the feeling.”

“And this is my cousin Chris,” Javier said, leaning on the counter and watching you expertly lattice the pie in front of you. “How many of those are you making?”

“Three apple, two cherry, one pecan for Cynthia, one blueberry, and a peach pie for Javi.”

Javier lit up. “I thought you weren’t making a peach pie!”

Lori laughed. “Beth brought Georgia peaches, so I had to.”

Chris opened the oven, examining the pies. “Damn, these look divine.”

“Off,” Lori said, giving Chris’s hands a light smack with a wooden spoon. “These are for dessert!”

Once you were finally done and the pies only had to be baked, you were able to wash your hands and sit on the couch. Javier sat next to you, along with a few aunts and uncles you didn’t know. Javier’s father sat in a recliner, his mother sat on a loveseat, and beside her sat a wonderful old woman who you quickly learned was Javier’s grandmother. You closed your eyes, leaning against Javier’s shoulder and dozing a bit. You didn’t fall asleep, but damn you wanted to. Conversation filtered around you, but you didn’t pay much attention.

People came and went, and eventually, everyone was moving outside. Javier nudged you to awareness and you blinked blearily in the Texas sunlight as you followed him outside.

“Veteran DEA agent, bothered by a bit of sunshine,” Javier teased, handing you his aviators. “Ain’t you a sight.”

You huffed at him. “Don’t make me regret saying yes to marrying you,” you said, waving to Patricia and Melissa.

Lunch was a happy affair. You sat beside your husband, chatting eagerly with some of his cousins. His sisters sat with you, happily telling you stories about Javier that made him turn red and you bend over with laughter. Finally, once they’d had their fun embarrassing him, Cynthia, Maria, and Lori all left to go oversee some game the young cousins were playing. Melissa leaned over the table and grinned, Patricia already rolling her eyes.

“Javi,” she said sweetly, fluttering her eyes. “Have you taken Bella out yet?”

“Bella?” You asked, seeing Javier copy Patricia’s eye roll. “Who’s Bella?”

Melissa pointed to the stables that the ranch had. “Javi’s horse. She’s getting old, but she still runs.”

“She’s thirteen,” Javier said. “Not old.”

Patricia smiled. “Javi managed to get her off a man trying to sell her for meat,” she explained to you. “Right up until the day he left for Columbia, she was his pride and joy. Brought her back basically from the dead.”

You tried to imagine Javier caring deeply about a horse, deeply enough to save her. Unsurprisingly, the thought came easy. “Bella, it’s a beautiful name.”

“Short for Belladonna,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

The ground was warm beneath your feet, still bare because you hadn’t had time to put shoes on before lunch. The Peña stables didn’t have many horses, maybe three or four. Right at the end was a stall painted with gorgeously intricate vines and flowers, the belladonna plant. Javier leaned over the door, whistling.

The effect was almost immediate. He was shoved from the door, a black horse pushing him out and butting against his body, searching him.

“Bella!” He said happily, scratching behind Bella’s swiveling ears. “Hello! Did you miss me?”

Bella snorted.

“I know, I missed you too,” Javier said, lost in his own little world. “Hey, guess what! I got married. Mhm, I think they’re perfect too.”

You smiled, leaning against the wall and watching Javier talk to Bella. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll take you on a ride.”

He introduced you to another horse, Bella’s neighbor Aristotle. Aristotle was well behaved, and within no time, you were sitting in the saddle and following Javier down a trail. Aristotle was an easy ride, and it helped that you had some prior riding knowledge. Javier, however, was leagues above you, riding as if he’d been doing it his whole life. Which you supposed he had.

“The ranch is huge,” Javier said, leading you through a section of forest. “But even if it wasn’t, we’re all good friends with the neighbors, and they don’t mind when we ride on their land.”

You left the forest and entered a large field that stretched on for miles, a wooden fence bisecting the field. “Is that where the neighbor’s property starts?” You asked, pulling Aristotle to a stop on the edge of the woods.

“That’s still ours,” Javier said. “Technically the neighbor’s land starts at the end of the field on the other side of the fence, but the fence was there when we bought the land and no one wants to take it down.”

You nodded. “How far is it back to the ranch?”

Javier looked at you, confused. “Twenty minutes at a steady trot, maybe thirty at a walk, why?”

Pushing Javier’s aviators up your nose and wiggling in the saddle, you grinned. “Over the fence, race you back!”

Just like that, you were off. Aristotle seemed just as joyful as you as you leapt the fence with ease, using what little riding knowledge you had. Javier caught on to your game and followed suit, laughing as Bella and Aristotle raced side by side.

The trail was likely too dangerous to keep this pace at, but if you weren’t mistaken, you could wind around the forest, staying at your pace. Abandoning Javier at the path, you cut a sharp turn, feeling the wind on your skin as you laughed.

True to your thoughts, within ten minutes, you were coming up on the ranch with no Javier in sight. Jumping the fence yet again into the riding ring, you pulled Aristotle to a stop, jumping down and stroking his nose.

Maria and Cynthia ran up to you as you straightened your shirt. “What happened?”

The sound of hooves alerted you to the return of your husband. “Javier and I went for a ride. I challenged him to a race home. He lost.”

Javier stopped Bella beside you, looking you up and down as he slid out of his saddle. “That was some damn impressive riding,” he said. “Congrats.”

You grinned. “C’mon, let’s put these two away and relax.”

Of course, in the Peña house, there was no such thing as relaxing. You and Javier were halfway to the porch when Javier was hit in the back with a water balloon. He turned, back dripping. Melissa and Patricia both pointed at each other, barely containing their laughter.

“Oh hell no!” Javier said, taking off his shoes and smiling. “Get back here!”

He chased after his sisters, both of which ran away, shrieking with laughter. You sat on the porch swing, watching Javier grab a water balloon and throw it. His aim was off, so instead of hitting Patricia, he hit Maria, who immediately joined the fight as well. Within minutes, all six Peña kids were throwing water balloons at each other and laughing. It was such an innocent sight, and it made you sigh. How long would you be in Columbia fighting the Cali Cartel? When would Javier get a chance to laugh like this again?

A shriek pulled you from your thoughts as Maria took control of a garden hose and began to aim it mostly at Javier, catching Lori and Cynthia in the process of soaking her brother. Javier ducked away from the hose spray, and Melissa snuck around Maria’s back and stood on the hose. It was a simple trick, but one Maria fell for, looking into the hose and immediately getting a face full of water.

“Niños!” Javier’s mother yelled, coming out of the house. “Que estás haciendo?”

“Jugando, Mamá!” Javier called, sitting up in the grass from where he’d been play wrestling with Cynthia, entirely soaked and decently muddy. “Melissa lo inició.”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Niños!” Javier’s mother said again, trying to cut the childish bickering off. “Lavarse!”

“Si Mamá!” The chorus of six voices called back. Javier was up first, shaking like a wet dog and trotting over to the house, followed by his sisters.

Ten minutes later, a significantly cleaner Javier was sitting next to you, his hair still wet and in completely different clothes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly, watching the large extended family gather for dinner.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

Javier took your hands. “You only ever use that tone when something is really wrong. What is it?”

You shrugged. “Just wondering when we’ll be back here. Will it be years, like last time?”

“Not if I can help it,” Javier said softly. “Hey, look at me cariño. This won’t be like last time, okay? I swear it. We’ll be home soon.”

Nodding, you kissed Javier, running a finger over his ring. “I love you.”

Javier smiled, kissing your forehead. “I love you more.”

You leaned against him, taking in the setting sun and the bustling happiness of the yard. Someone started playing music, and you perked up. “Oh! I love this song!”

Javier tipped his head, trying to figure out what was playing. “I don’t know this.”

“It’s from the mid sixties,” you said, standing and tugging Javier to his feet. “Never charted, but my mother loved it.” You started to sway with the happy music, and Javier copied your movements. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, you don't have to be a star,” you sang, making Javier smile. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, I love you just the way you are.”

Javier moved his hands to your waist, and you put your forearms on his shoulders, still swaying and singing. “For love is just the same, without fortune and fame. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

The song kept playing, and you kept singing, dancing with Javier on the porch. About halfway through the song, someone interrupted you. “Hey, dorks!”

You jumped, almost knocking into Javier and hurting him. “Jesus! A warning next time!”

Maria grinned. “Mamá says it’s time to eat, and if you don’t come down, she’ll feed your portion to the dogs.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like Mamá. C’mon, let’s eat.”

You took Javier’s hand, following him off the porch, still singing lightly as the grass crunched under your feet and the warm Texas breeze rippled your clothes.

“Hey, lover, treat me good and nice, and it will be alright. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

[idreamofplaid]

The Feel of a Heartbeat

Square Filled: Autumn for @spngenrebingo​; Meet Cute for @spnfluffbingo​; Heat or Rut Blockers for @spnabobingo​

Characters: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Sam lost his Omega many years ago and gave up on the idea of ever having another, but he’s about to find out that part of his life isn’t over.

Word Count: 4161

A/N: I thought this was a oneshot. There’s a Part 2 in the works. That’s where the smut is gonna happen. 😉 This story is also asking to be even longer than that. There’s the question of why Dean needs the pie that I want to answer. 🙂

Created for @spngenrebingo @spnfluffbingo & @spnabobingo

Sam had told himself any number of lies over the years. More than once, he had told himself this was the last case; and then he was out. Out never came. He was still hunting, and it was his life now. He had assured himself that everything he’d done had been for the greater good without any selfish motives. He’d also told himself he was evil, and neither was true. Sam had learned he was more complex than the simplicity of either of those things. 

The biggest lie he’d told himself was that he shouldn’t have an Omega in his life; it was better if he didn’t. He had tried commitment once, and it had ended badly. Very badly. He had watched his Omega die, burning on the ceiling. It had taken him years to come back from that.

Thankfully, the grief had initially suppressed his ruts. It also took away his scent. This became evident to him when his ruts finally returned. Normally during a rut, Omegas would be drawn to him. They would practically surround him, needing and wanting his knot. He still got his fair share of flirting and attention, but it wasn’t the same; and for Sam that was a relief.

Sam had no interest in the attention of an Omega or anyone else. His heart still hurt too much for Jessica and the guilt he felt for his perceived role in her death was too strong. A part of him had been taken away, ripped from him in the cruelest way imaginable. A couple of times he had sought out the company of an Omega when the pain of needing to mate had become too great, but the relief his body found only crushed his heart more. None of them was Jessica, and he didn’t dare to let himself feel anything like what he’d felt for her again.

That’s when Sam started taking suppressants, and he had been taking them ever since. They had blocked his ruts and brought a certain peace to his life, but no satisfaction. He just told himself that part of his life was over; his chance to bond himself with another was gone. Over the years, he found ways to accept it and deal with the resulting emptiness. Mostly, this involved burying himself in research and killing monsters, but the loneliness never went away.

Sam’s life changed on the day he walked into Lebanon’s one and only bakery looking for pie. One of the effects of the suppressants he took was that they not only erased his scent but also the scent of any nearby Omega, taking away any temptation and the possibility of fulfillment or pain. As he stepped inside the bakery, it was more than just pie fillings and frosting he smelled. 

The scent of pumpkin and sugar was heavy in the air; but what Sam smelled wasn’t muffins. This fragrance was laced with the aroma of crisp fall air, the way the day smells when you walk through an apple orchard while the trees are heavy with fruit and the fallen leaves are crunching beneath your feet. This smell was all delicious Omega, and that was something Sam hadn’t smelled for a long time. 

He hadn’t thought about it much really. It didn’t register with him that when the suppressants took away his scent and his ruts, they also took away his ability to smell Omegas. Then Sam saw her. He was instantly overwhelmed by the combined smell of sweetness, warmth, and freshness. It made his heart race, his knees a little weak, and his cock twitch with interest. 

It absolutely couldn’t be. Sam stood unmoving for a minute, transfixed by what was happening to him. He had been barely nineteen when he’d last felt something like this. It was unmistakable, and were it not for the suppressants; he would have probably gone into rut right there.

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

Y/N was putting apple turnovers in the display case when Sam walked through the door. His presence filled the space as soon as he stepped into her shop; her senses tingled, and she could feel him. When Y/N looked up, she saw a man so handsome that for a moment she forgot what she was doing. 

His hair grazed his shoulders, and those shoulders were the broadest ones she’d ever seen. His eyes were a soft, warm hazel highlighted with green. Then he smiled, and her knees went a little weak. Dimples. How could a man who looked this strong also have dimples so adorable? Y/N tried not to stare at his muscles; his pecs were straining against the first closed button on his shirt, and his biceps filled the sleeves of the plaid flannel he was wearing to their limits. She silently reminded herself to stay focused.

She looked up and smiled her brightest. “Hi. What can I help you with today?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. It wasn’t cupcakes she wanted to give him.

Sam smiled even bigger, and she could swear she saw a certain kind of gleam in his eye. It was the kind that only Alphas have. His expression was self assured and sexy, the kind of look that made an Omega want to submit and be marked. She told herself she had to be imagining it. This guy wasn’t an Alpha. If he was an Alpha, she would be able to smell him.

This tall, handsome, every bit an Alpha but the smell, man opened his mouth to speak; and his voice had a depth and a richness that calmed her on a primal level. He had the soothing tone that an Alpha would have only with his Omega. It was the way she had always imagined it, and him, to be. 

Sam interrupted the confusion of her thoughts. “I need a pie.” A bit of hair had fallen across his temple, and all the Alpha power she had sensed earlier was replaced with an almost boyish charm. He tilted his head to the side, and his hair moved over his forehead. “That is, my brother needs a pie. I need a pie for my brother.”

His awkwardness was cute, and she decided she must have imagined the Alpha thing. None of the Alphas she’d ever known could so endearingly fumble their words. He chewed at his bottom lip and tried again. “I mean I’m here to buy a pie for my brother because he’s been having a rough time lately, and pie cheers him up.”

He was handsome and thoughtful too. “Okay. I think I have exactly what you need.” There went her word choice again, sending her mind in other directions. “Do you want something with fruit? I made the cherry and apple fresh this morning. I’ve also got chocolate, banana creme, and lemon meringue, or you can order anything off the menu, and I’ll have it ready tomorrow afternoon.”

She gestured over her shoulder to the menu, but Sam was quick to answer. “No, I...um, definitely need it today.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and she noticed how long and thick his fingers were.

Her voice took on a softness and a certain seriousness. “Apple is a great choice for this time of year.” Whatever this situation was with his brother, she wanted to help him. She felt it was her place to help him. He had activated all her Omega senses. She was still confused about how, but it had definitely happened.

Y/N lifted the fresh baked pie from the case. The crust was beautiful. She had taken great time with it, working the crust into a work of art. She had carefully latticed the top with the strips of crust weaving over and under each other and offering a peek of the fruit underneath. 

Y/N was proud of that pie, and that was the one she wanted him to have. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and Y/N noticed he started to take out a credit card; but then he handed her cash instead. “I’m Sam. Thanks for this. I’m sure Dean will like it.”

She handed him his change, and her fingers lightly grazed his palm as she did. “I’m Y/N.” She smiled. “Come back next week. I’ll be making pumpkin spice muffins with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon apple bread.” He nodded and treated her to another dimple adorned smile before he took the boxed pie from her and left with a jingle of the bell over the door.

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

Sam couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was something about her smile, something about the way he looked at her, and when she touched his hand; it felt like he had come home. There was something so familiar about her, like he knew her, but he was sure he’d never met her before. 

The next week he left his salads and smoothies behind for another trip back to the bakery. It was fall, nothing wrong with indulging in some baked pumpkin treats. He would work it off during his morning run.

Y/N was with another customer when Sam walked in. That gave him an opportunity to look at her, study her really. Her mouth was small. It didn’t cover much of her face, but her lips were full; and, to Sam, they appeared very kissable. He wondered how soft her bottom lip would be if he dragged his finger over it while he looked into her eyes before he kissed her. 

Sam’s eyes travelled down her body. He watched as she wrapped cinnamon rolls; the paper sounded with a satisfying crinkle as she placed them in the bag. It made Sam think about sharing one of those pastries with her. He imagined her breaking off a piece and putting it into his mouth. He also imagined that her fingers would be even sweeter than the cinnamon roll.

Her smile set off a sparkle in her eyes when she saw him. “Hi, Sam. Are you back for the pumpkin muffins?” 

He sank his hand into the pocket of his jeans, not quite sure what to do with it. “Yeah, they sounded too good to pass up.” 

She picked what appeared to be the largest muffin in the case while she asked him, “here or to go?” 

On impulse, Sam answered, “here.” He could think of nothing better than to stay in her presence as long as he could. 

She put his muffin on a plate, and he noticed how tiny her hands were. Sam wanted to hold her hand, lace his fingers through hers, feel connected to her. “Do you want some coffee to go with that?” 

“That’d be good,” Sam replied. 

She smiled at him again. “Go ahead and find a seat. I’ll bring it out to you.” 

Sam chose one of the round cafe tables in the corner farthest from the door. When Y/N brought over his coffee, she was carrying a second cup. “Mind if I join you?” 

There was nothing Sam wanted more. “Sure.” Her movements were fluid, graceful as she pulled out the chair and sat across from him. Sam had never been so thankful for small tables. Usually such things made him feel too big for the world, like he didn’t fit. That was a feeling he’d never been comfortable with, and he found himself trying to feel smaller in spite of his Alpha status. It was a lingering result of the guilt he felt after Jessica’s death. 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee. Sam could smell it, nutty with the slightest hint of vanilla. She said, “I haven’t seen you around before. Have you been in Lebanon long?”

“It’s been a few years. My brother and I have a place outside town. We both travel a lot with work. When I’m home, I don’t usually have a reason to go places like a bakery.” Sam’s focus was fixed on his coffee mug for a second, then he looked at her. “I have one now. This coffee is amazing.” He paused, and she could see him thinking. As he took another sip, he looked at her in such a way that Y/N knew he meant more than the coffee had caught his interest.

They talked for nearly an hour. Y/N was thankful it was a slow morning. She only had to leave the conversation once to get a loaf of banana bread for one of her regulars, and eagerly she had returned to her spot near Sam. Already, she enjoyed the feeling of being near him. He wrapped her in his presence without even touching her, and she was realizing more and more it was a place she wanted to stay.

As their morning together was drawing to a close, things between them got quieter. There were fewer words and more comfortable silence. Sam looked at her, and she could see him thinking again. Finally, he asked her, “Have you ever been to the fall festival?”

Y/N felt her stomach do a flip. She hoped this was headed where she thought. “I’ve been a couple of times. It’s great for getting into the spirit of fall, and autumn is my favorite time of year.”

“Would you like to go again...with me? You could show me the ropes. I haven’t been to many fall festivals, or any other kind really.”

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach settle, and the calm of being around him took over again. “Yes, I’d like that.”

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

It surprised Sam how much time he spent preparing for this date. Thinking about what he was going to wear wasn’t something Sam did beyond making sure it was functional enough that there was a wide range of movement and comfortable enough that he could spend a ten hour stretch in the Impala wearing it. He hadn’t even cared about clothes in his Stanford days when he was young and falling in love with Jess.

Sam had no idea which colors looked best on him, but blue was his favorite; so he decided to go with that. He chose one of his newer plaids that was predominantly blue with some gray and white mixed in, along with his best pair of jeans. At least a fall festival wasn’t fancy, so his clothes worked. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel about wearing one of his FBI suits on a date, especially one that was taking on so much importance for him.

He’d even thought about asking Dean if he could take Baby for the day, but he wasn’t ready for the kind of questions a move like that would inspire. It was hard enough telling his brother he was taking someone to the town festival at all. Neither of them had hardly given the banners announcing the Lebanon Fall Festival a second glance in all the years they’d lived there. 

The biggest decision came for Sam two nights after he’d asked Y/N out. He was alone in the bunker bathroom and staring at himself in the mirror. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at his own reflection, really looked. 

The years had aged him, not that that was a bad thing. It meant he was still alive. It also meant there was wisdom in his eyes. Sam had suffered in those years; he’d learned, and he had overcome much loss and pain. The hard edge he’d once had that was fueled by anger was gone. It had been replaced by a steadfastness, a certainty of who he was that had been defined by the things he’d endured.

It was with that certainty, Sam opened the medicine cabinet, took out his bottle of suppressants, and dumped them into the sink. He turned on the water and watched as they dissolved and disappeared down the sink. 

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

Y/N was practically giddy with excitement by the time she heard Sam’s knock at her door. She smoothed her hands over her hair one last time, took a deep breath, and opened it. She knew he was handsome, hadn’t been able to get the memory of that out of her head. He had been in her dreams these past few nights, but to have him in front of her again was purely breathtaking.

He led her to his truck parked by the curb. It was a vintage model, at least a couple of decades old. She wasn’t good with cars; so she couldn’t pinpoint it, but it fit the day perfectly. Sam opened the passenger door for her and helped her in.

The short ride to the fair was filled with laughter and fall sunshine streaming in through the windshield. Sam told her stories about when he was a kid. She found out he’d loved books growing up, still did, and so did she. They talked about the last books they’d read and favorite genres. They talked about the places they’d like to go. Sam shared with her that he’d seen most of the United States but not much outside of it, and he would like to change that.

She could imagine traveling the world with him, experiencing it through his eyes; but that was something she would do with her Alpha. Y/N felt a pang of sadness stab her heart at the thought of losing that dream with Sam. For now, she should just focus on enjoying this day with the fascinating man in front of her.

They played games together: ring toss, tin can bowling, and pumpkin tic tac toe. Sam was, not surprisingly, skilled at all of them. But when it came to popping balloons with darts, he was exceptionally good. He’d won the two prize limit in under five minutes. Both were teddy bears in the typically bright colors of carnival toys. She kept the green one, and the pink one she gave to a little girl waiting in the line next to them. 

When she turned back to Sam, he was watching the little girl hug her new bear with a soft look in his eyes. Y/N was mesmerized by the look on his face. Finally, she asked him, “Where did you learn to do that?”

The look on his face changed, and it made Y/N sorry she’d said anything. “My dad taught me.”

Sam was quick to recover, the melancholy gone from his eyes. “Would you like to learn?” She nodded, and he positioned her in front of him. “Pick up one of the darts.” Sam draped his arm along the length of hers and settled his fingers over her hand so he could guide her movements. “Focus on the target. Don’t think about it too much. Just keep your eye on the place you want the dart to go.”

He moved her hand in a circular motion. “Stay loose.” Sam let go of her hand and dropped his own hand to her waist. “Now, throw it.” Y/N kept her eye on the center of the balloon and let the dart fly. It landed just to the left of her target. “Not bad,” he told her. Sam kept his hands on her waist. “PIck your spot on the balloon. Focus. And let it go.” This time, the dart she threw landed in the center of a red balloon with a loud pop. 

Y/N couldn’t help but jump up and down a little. She was surprised she’d been able to do that. Sam’s hold on her tightened slightly, then he let her go and stepped back. “Throw the last one.” Her last dart didn’t pop another balloon, but that did nothing to diminish her glow. 

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

The day had a magic about it. The air was cool, and the sun was shining with a diffuse brightness in a vibrant jewel toned blue sky, the kind of a glorious autumn. Seasonal produce was everywhere. The yellows, oranges, and reds of squash, pumpkins, and apples created a rich backdrop for the sounds of laughter coming from the people playing carnival games and enjoying fall treats.

Sam felt good, better than he had in a long time. Y/N’s enthusiasm filled his veins with an excitement of his own. It was possibility. The blood of life was flowing through his veins again. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind, a spark of recognition flared. This is what it felt like when his instincts weren’t dulled by suppressants. This is what it felt like when he was falling in love. He reached for Y/N’s hand, and she laced her fingers through his.

Sam enjoyed the feel of her hand in his. The way their fingers wrapped together made him feel something deep inside of him that he could only define as peace. It was a rare feeling for him, so rare he didn’t think he’d ever felt quite this way before. He could feel her smiling at him, knew it without looking. When he did look, her expression comforted him somehow, wrapped around him, and gave him hope for the future. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. “You haven’t lived until you have fall carnival food.”

They passed by several concession stands before Y/N found the one she wanted. Sam had never seen anything like it; there was more junk food here than he allowed himself in a year, and now he wanted all of it. He’d never had funnel cake, kettle corn, or a fried candy bar; but it was the caramel apple stand where Y/N came to a stop. Sam had never had one of those either. 

There were green apples and red apples covered in a layer of caramel. Some had crushed peanuts on them; some had been dipped in candies, and others were decorated with swirls of chocolate. “Want one?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah.” Sam answered with a smile that turned on his dimples. Y/N took her time choosing exactly the two apples she wanted. Both were Granny Smith with festive dark chocolate drizzles; one had nuts and one didn’t. She kept the one with the nuts for herself.

To Sam’s surprise, it wasn’t entirely easy to take the first bite out of a caramel apple. The layer of solidified gooeyness with the firm apple underneath made it a challenge to sink his teeth in just right, but when he did the intense sweetness of the caramel with a hint of tartness from the apple was perfect.

Sam thoroughly enjoyed the indulgence of the apple and managed to make an adorable mess. Y/N pushed a stray bit of caramel from the corner of his mouth onto his lips with her fingertip. Her touch lingered for a beat, and Sam felt something stir inside him and come to life. 

She asked him then if he wanted to try a bite of her apple. “It’s good with the peanuts.” He took a bite of the apple she offered him. His eyes met hers, and it was then that the thing awakening inside him exploded. The intense smell of pumpkin, sugar, and autumn air once again flooded over him like it had that first day he met her in the bakery. It was like a strong ocean wave that threatened to knock him down. Omega. HIS Omega.

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

Y/N felt a little shy as she held out her apple for Sam to take a bite. There was still a phantom tingle in her fingertips from touching his lips. Her body was nearly humming from his closeness. It felt natural to her to feed him, like the intimate gesture was just one of many they frequently shared.

Her eyes found his, and she let herself float into the warm golden brown of his hazel eyes. For a moment, she lost herself in him and in the way he was looking at her. Then, she smelled it. It was the distinctly earthy smell of firewood set ablaze. She tore her eyes from his to look around. Had someone started a bonfire?

There was no fire. Y/N looked back at Sam, and she could only describe what she saw there as amazement, maybe even awe. He looked like he wanted to say something. She could still smell the firewood. Now it was joined by the scent of bourbon, warm and rich, kissed by the sweetness of maple syrup. It was him; the smell was coming from Sam.

Y/N’s heart started to beat faster, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. He was an Alpha, and he wasn’t just any Alpha; he was hers. She felt the slick begin to pool in her panties, and pain with a white hot intensity jabbed at her abdomen and radiated through her core. She dropped the apple and grabbed for Sam’s arm to steady herself. “Alpha?!”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @peridottea91​ @logical-princey​ @emilyshurley​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @ledzeppelinsbonzo​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @heycasbutt​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @gh0stgurl​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @lonewolf471​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​ @triiitoo​ @deansotherotherblog​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes​ @stunudo​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @theychosefamily​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @i-joined-social-media-finally​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @wendibird​  @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @neii3n​ @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ @sammysnaughtygirl​

[0zzysaurus]

Hey broham

💗 🍰 💓 💕

💗 how do you show you care? what do people do that makes you feel loved? Givin' people things, reaching out whenever I think about 'em, uhh, just hanging out. !! SHARING FOOD. I eat very slow and I tend to have... mild food aggression haha, so if I'm giving u any of my food then u are beloved to me. I just like when my friends acknowledge I exist 😭 like, I know that's a very low bar but idk, my perception of how I should be treated by people isn't great.

🍰 what’s your favorite dessert to eat? do you have a favorite to make? Oh shit don't make me choose.... Ummmm.... fuck... Okay, it's not my favourite dessert overall by a long shot, but my favourite dessert to eat is ice cream cones. Just cus they're fun and come in lots of colours and you can decorate them and stuff!! :]] My favourite dessert to make is probably tarte tatin because it's so fucking easy and takes like no time at all, or apple/cherry pie because I can do fun little lattice shapes for the top of the pie.

💓 what do people do that makes your heart skip a beat? what makes your heart melt? hearing people I crush on laughing ;; especially at my jokes, I feel like I'm on top of the world when that happens. Or like, sometimes my friends will ruffle my hair or hold my hands or play fight with me and I just :]] feel happy about it. The more I think about it actually I'm realising I just have a very simple monkey brain in terms of the kind of affection I like ://

💕 vague about your crush or partner? .... :]] *sweats* haha uhhhhhh 👉👈 um uhhh haha uh about that, um- HEY WHATS THAT OVER THERE-🏃‍💨

[subtract-me-from-your-heart]

Hello, and welcome to another episode of Sin Eats. On today's special episode, we'll be making...

The Bare Minimum Cherry Pie

I'm gonna be real with you. I like pie as much as the next person. I love putting it in my face. I especially love fruit pies because of the tart and sweet combination. However, I absolutely hate making pies.

Pie crust is annoying. Either it's too wet or too dry, it comes out tough because I didn't roll it thin enough or I over-mixed it... I don't know why, but I have literally never made a good pie crust. So I don't enjoy it. And I'm too old to waste time doing things I don't enjoy unless I have to (e.g. paying bills, doing taxes, getting an annual physical...).

Yet, every year without fail, all my dad wants for his birthday is a cherry pie. So here we are, making a very lazy but very tasty pie.

Given the above, I'm not going to be providing a pie crust recipe. I just buy it from the store. Does it taste homemade? No. But does it taste decent and turn out consistently well every time? Yes. Anyway, if your filling tastes good enough, you can get away with a lot.

Ingredients

3 x 14.5 oz (411g) cans tart cherries (for the love of GOD do not buy cherry pie filling or sweet cherries unless you want to die from sugar overload)

4 tbsp corn starch

1 1/4 cup (300g) sugar

Pinch salt

Almond extract

Lemon juice (optional)

Amaretto (optional)

1 egg (optional)

Steps

Combine cherries, about a can and a half of the juice, corn starch, sugar, salt, almond extract, lemon juice, and amaretto in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. I generally eyeball the almond extract, amoretto, and lemon juice. The lemon juice just kinda brightens it up a bit. And I really like the taste of almond extract, so keep that in mind.

Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat. It will take a while. I'm very sorry. For real, though, burnt sugar tastes disgusting, so don't try to expedite the process. When it comes to a simmer, cook for about 10 minutes, stirring regularly, until the liquid is thick and bubbly. It shouldn't be totally jellied up, but close. Taste test (very important step) but don't burn your damn mouth in the process. If you're happy, set it aside to cool.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (218°C). Cover a cookie sheet with foil and place on lower rack. If you don't do this, you're gonna have to clean sticky cherry goo out of your oven.

If you're using a store bought crust, you can just slap that into a 9 inch glass pie pan. In the past, I have sliced the second crust into long strips and done a lattice, but I'm too lazy tonight. Tonight I'm just gonna punch some holes with heart-shaped cookie cutters and call it a day.

When your pie filling is cool enough, dump it on into the bottom crust to fill the pie. If it's too hot when you do this, it's gonna melt your pie crust and I guarantee that is not a good time. Complain when it takes too long, though. Watch a murder show or something.

Cover with the second crust. It'll shrink a bit when it bakes, so I like to just fold the top crust under a bit and leave about a half inch extra outside of the pan. You can seal it however you want, but I like the tried-and-true method of pressing a fork all the way around the edges. Fork that pie.

Crack an egg into a small bowl and add about a tablespoon of water. Whip it up with a fork. Using a pastry brush or paper towel, coat the top crust of the pie. This makes it really nice and shiny when it bakes.

Bake for 20 minutes at 425°F (218°C). Add a pie crust shield to keep the edges from getting burnt to shit. Reduce heat to 375°F (191°C) and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes. The crust should be nice and brown and the filling should be bubbling.

That's all she wrote. Let it cool for about 3 hours before you try to eat it. It's great topped with whipped cream or ice cream.

Enjoy the fruits (ha ha) of your labor!

[lovelylogans]

HEY HEY HEY! Very important question. If the sanders sides in your fics were meals/drinks on a menu what would they be? I kept reading wyliwf and picturing like. The loganberry parfait. Patton cakes. Etc💖:)

oooooooooooooohhhh that's a great question! idk if i have punny names, but after considering it for a minute, i do have food associations, and as such:

lavender for luck (which has skewed dessert-themed, for some reason?)

virgil as sour cherry pie: sour at first taste, tempering out to sweetness, protected by a good crust and a cautiously-woven lattice; this feels very virgil to me, for whatever reason.

patton as homemade cosmic brownies: perhaps a touch childish, but a definite comfort and familiar to all, with colorful bits of fun and, perhaps, made with a bitterer dark chocolate rather than a milk; this feels very lfl!patton, to me.

logan as bergamot lemon earl gray tart: as lemony snicket once said, "tea should be bitter, and as sharp as a two-edged sword." traditional flavors that nonetheless make something intriguing and, well, sharp—logan's intelligence and his (somewhat rigid) ways get a bit looser when combined with other ingredients. (it's a metaphor, it's a work in progress, it's a work-in-progress metaphor)

roman as fritters with lemon mousse and strawberries: listen. a bit over-the-top, a bit ridiculous to order at a regular diner, but no one can deny that they're good—flashy and full of substance, that's our roman.

dee as anise rhubarb compote: unusual flavors, a part of a recipe that's recommended to be paired with something else; poor dee in this au feels a bit incomplete after the death his brother, but he certainly knows how to make a statement on his own.

cora as hummingbird cake: a classic! old ladies love it! i can't really give you metaphors here this one is Exclusively Vibes!

wyliwf (which is based off food flavors i tended to mention with their character in the wyliwf canon):

patton as, obviously, hot cocoa/coffee: starts off sweet, ends out bitter. one would typically think of patton as a happy-go-lucky good guy, but he's had his share of hardships and struggles that don't stop him from being, well, sweet. however, he does sometimes use that sweetness to overshadow his more complex emotions.

logan as caramel-crumb coffee cake: a birthday breakfast, but caramel fits logan to me: you have to follow precise, scientific measures to burn sugar to get caramel to the exact right consistency. caramel, paired with the bitter taste of coffee—idk, there's just something that fits here.

roman as cherry-flavored anything, but particularly cherry pie/cherry ice cream: honestly, at first, my thought was roman red, cherry red, but really—sweet fruit around a hard pit. roman's made of tough stuff, but that doesn't stop him from being a crowd-pleaser.

virgil as lasagna: made with a lot of layers, sometimes difficult to make from scratch but often with another person's recipe, lasagna has a lot of substance and is comforting to those who invest the time.

janus as mille-feuilles: literally, thousand layers. unlike virgil's lasagna, mille-feuilles are notoriously fussy to get exactly right, and it will refuse to turn out right unless you approach it in a very specific way. however, when it does turn out right, people agree it is incredibly delicious and well worth the effort. there is absolutely a metaphor in there for janus.

[america-oreosandkitkats]

when this is all over i will make myself a cherry pie, latticed, with big chunks of sugar on top

[justlookfrightened]

How hard could it be?

A/N: This has *nothing* to do with my last post. 

“Yeah, sure, Tater, anytime,” Jack said. “Not like I’m going anywhere, eh? Yeah, okay, tonight at seven. I’ll be there.”

The fact was, Jack really wasn’t up for a game of Zoom Pictionary, but he had an A. He had to stay involved with the team, even though he was pretty sure this season was over. If he didn’t, he’d have Marty and Thirdy to answer to.

And if Marty actually retired, there was talk that they’d give Jack a C, too, instead of being one of three A’s. He’d tried to nip it, gone to Thirdy and apologized that anyone had said it, even if it wasn’t Jack, and found out that Thirdy was the one who started it in the first place.

“We all know you’re the face of the franchise, man, and not just because you’re pretty,” Thirdy said. “I’ll wear the A ’til I retire, as long as the team wants me to, but we both know that’s not going to be too many more years. Making you captain is just recognizing reality. The young guys look up to you, us old farts respect you … of course you’re the leader.”

Maybe Marty wouldn’t retire after the truncated season, Jack thought. Maybe he’d stay one more year, try to end on a high note instead if in this weird limbo.

Jack could only hope.

He turned back to his laptop and unmuted it, but the video he’d been watching on the best ways to cook chicken breast had given way to something else.

The voice that came from the laptop speakers had a warm drawl, and the hands on the screen were weaving something, making a basket pattern over a … pie, definitely a cherry pie. The dark red of the cherries offered a good contrast to the pale pie dough, and the cherry juice that stuck to the back of the strips as the man folded them back made it easy to see what he was doing.

“Now, a lot of folks are afraid of doing a lattice top because it looks complicated,” the man said. He had just laid a new strip of dough horizontally across the pie, and he was taking the strips that were folded down -- every other one of the vertical strips -- and flipping them over the new horizontal strip. “It’s really easy once you know how.”

Then he folded down the other vertical strips -- the ones that were under the last horizontal one -- and added another horizontal strip before folding them back.

Jack knew he should turn the video off. There was no way he was ever going to make a pie. He hardly ever ate desserts anyway, and never fruit pie. There was the fat in pie crust, all the sugar -- it wasn’t worth it. He had one piece of tarte au sucre when he went home for Christmas, if he went home for Christmas, and that was that.

But the man’s hands -- strong, square hands with neat nails and no rings -- kept moving and he kept talking as the pattern took shape.

“This is a real simple pattern, of course,” he was saying. “You can do it all sorts of ways. I like a braided edge, but that takes a bit of practice.”

The pie was finished, and the hands slid it into what looked like an old oven. The picture cut to a young guy -- well, Jack would have assumed that from the voice -- holding up a pie identical to the one that had just gone into the oven. His eyes were warm and brown, his hair was the color of the now-golden pie crust, and his smile was wide.

“This is the way it looks when it’s done,” he said. “See, don’t you think it looks like I put a lot of effort in? And if your first few attempts come out a little wonky, that’s okay. Everything takes practice, and besides, the people you want to impress will just know how hard you’re willing to work.

“If you try it, I’d love to see how it turns out,” the man continues. “Go ahead and send a picture. And of course, if you made it this far, please hit the like button and think about subscribing.”

Jack scrolled down and hit the thumbs up button before looking further.

The video had been posted by OMG! Check Please two years ago and had been watched over 100,000 times.

The account had about 10,000 subscribers, and there were plenty of comments, some complimentary, some with practical questions. Jack read through the first couple of pages before checking his cupboards.

He had flour, salt and a bag of apples. The spice rack that Maman had insisted on when he moved in had cinnamon -- something that was included in most of the apple pie recipes he found in a quick Google search. But he didn’t have any real butter or shortening, which apparently he would need. 

Jack pulled his chicken breasts out to thaw and placed an order for butter and shortening to be picked up curbside. More apples, too, he decided. He put the chicken breasts back in the freezer and added frozen chicken tenders and frozen broccoli to his grocery order.

An hour later, he grabbed a clean mask off the hook by the door, pulled a cap down above his eyes, and headed to the market.

At least this was giving him a reason to get out, start his car and try something new, all in one day. One day in a string of days that were starting to all feel the same. If he watched and listened to OMG! Check Please another two (or three) times while he waited, well, that was just preparing himself.

How hard could this be?

Read Part 2

[unwritrecipes]

The Book on Pie's Blueberry Clafoutis Pie-Famous Fridays

Happy Friday, my friends! Who’s ready to bake some pie?!! Today we celebrate renowned baker Erin McDowell and her wonderful and extremely comprehensive cookbook, The Book on Pie: Everything You Need to Know to Bake Perfect Pies. Whether you’re an expert pie baker or a complete novice on the pie baking front, as long as you ❤️ pie, this Famous Fridays is for you!

There are tons and tons of amazing recipes for pie in this book and it would have been extremely difficult to pick which one to feature but for the fact that my fridge is full of farm-fresh picked blueberries right now, so choosing this Blueberry Clafoutis Pie, was a no-brainer (told you I’d be unleashing a storm of berry recipes!!)

But before we get to this lovely summery pie, I just want to talk about how truly terrific and aptly named this cookbook is. In addition to a slew of fabulous sweet and savory pie recipes, you will learn everything you need to know about crimping and braiding and the lattice technique, how to blind and par-bake and dock, what special tools and pie plates to use and all different sorts of pie toppings, from streusel to nut butter whipped cream to dark chocolate drippy glaze! And everything is written so clearly with helpful little tips and accompanied by stunning glossy photos that you feel confident that no matter which recipe you try, you’re bound to succeed. In other words, this book is a keeper that I really think you’ll use for years and years!

And now finally, onto Blueberry Clafoutis Pie!!! Traditionally, a clafoutis is a homey French crustless dessert made with cherries that has an eggy batter that gets poured over the fruit and baked. Here, Erin brilliantly translates that into pie form, so that the blueberries get surrounded by a light custard AND you get the magic of an all-butter pie crust. So many great flavors and textures!!

Once you’ve put together and par-baked your pie crust (take a look at this post for how to do all that), you brush it with a little egg wash and fill with your berries

Next you whisk together the custard, pour it over those berries

And bake! Easy-peasy and done!

The filling is slightly creamy and perfectly balances out the juicy berries and crisp golden crust!

Unfortunately, I don’t have a cut piece to show you because I brought it to my sister’s house and it sort of got pounced on and disappeared before I could get my camera out, but that only shows how much it was loved, right?!! And sure, I could make this again (and I will) but I wanted you to have this asap since we’re really in the middle of blueberry season right now. In any case, I hope it inspires you to make your own!

So…get yourself a copy of The Book on Pie as soon as you can—with all the fresh fruit around, now is such a great time to bake pies and have a wonderful, safe and pie-filled weekend!!xoxo

The Book on Pie’s Blueberry Clafoutis Pie-Famous Fridays

Makes one 9-inch pie

Prep Time for Crust: 15 minutes, plus several hours chilling time, rolling out and par-baking. Prep Time for Filling: 10 minutes; Bake Time: 45-55 minutes

Ingredients

For the crust

1 ½ cups unbleached, all-purpose flour, plus extra for rolling out

1 ½ teaspoons sugar

½ teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons (½ cup) unsalted butter, cut into small cubes and chilled

⅓ cup cold water

1 teaspoon cider vinegar

Ice Cubes

1 large egg whisked with 1 tablespoon cool water, for egg wash

For the filling

10 ounces fresh blueberries

1 vanilla bean, cut lengthwise

½ cup sugar

¼ cup unbleached, all-purpose flour

1 cup whole milk

⅓ cup heavy cream

3 large eggs

½ teaspoon fine sea salt

Pinch of cinnamon

Confectioners’ sugar for dusting, optional (I didn’t use)

The Recipe

1. For the crust: Add the flour, sugar and salt to the bowl of a food processor and pulse a few times to blend. Add in the chilled butter and pulse a few times until the butter has become the size of small peas.

2. Into the ⅓ cup cold water, add the vinegar and stir. Then add enough ice cubes to raise the level to ½ cup. Add 2 tablespoons of the mixture to the flour mixture and pulse a few times to incorporate it. It will look very crumbly. Then add 1 more tablespoon and pulse again a few times. You should see the mixture start to come together in a shaggy way with lots of crumbly bits. If you absolutely think you need to, add one more tablespoon of water. I never need to—it’s better for your dough to be too dry than too wet.

3. Turn the crumbly dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and gather it all into a ball. Make sure to scrape out the bowl of the processor—sometimes some of the wet parts of the dough get a little stuck and form the whole thing into a ball. Then flatten into a disk, wrap well in plastic wrap and chill for several hours and even better, overnight.

4. When you are ready to roll out the dough, flour a board or counter with a little flour and flour your rolling pin too. If the dough is very stiff (mine usually is) let it sit out on the counter for about 20 minutes till it seems pliable. Roll out the dough, rolling from the center out and to a corner, then lifting the dough off the surface of the board and giving it a little ¼ turn and rolling again, repeating the process until you’re rolled the dough out into a circle that’s a couple of inches wider in diameter than the pie plate.

5. Fold the dough in half and transfer to the pie plate, unrolling it and then carefully easing it down onto the bottom and sides—no stretching! Fold the overhang over and crimp/decorate the edges any way you like. The easiest way is to just use the tines of a fork pressed into the dough to create a little pattern. Now prick the bottom and sides all over with the tines of the fork.

6. Place the pie plate in the freezer for 30 minutes.

7. Meanwhile preheat your oven to 425ºF. When the 30 minutes are up, line the pie with a piece of aluminum foil or parchment paper and either pie weights or beans. If any of the edges stick out, cut little pieces of foil to fit over them. Bake about 15 minutes and then remove the foil and weights. Return to the oven for about 2-4 minutes more until crust is golden brown and transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

8. To make the filling: Place a rack in the bottom third of the oven and preheat oven to 350ºF. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and place the cooled pie shell onto it. Brush the pie shell all over with the egg wash and then fill with the berries, spreading them out evenly. Set aside.

9. Place the sugar in a medium bowl and scrape the seeds out from the vanilla bean into the bowl (discard the pod, or add to some sugar to make vanilla sugar). Use your fingers to rub the vanilla bean seeds into the sugar so that the sugar gets infused with the vanilla. Whisk in the flour. Then add the milk, cream and eggs and whisk well to combine. Whisk in the salt and cinnamon. Pour the liquid over the berries in the crust and kind of spread it around if it doesn’t distribute evenly.

10. Bake for 45-55 minutes, until the custard is set at the edges but the center is still a little jiggly when you gently shake the pan. Let cool on a wire rack and either dust with the confectioners’ sugar or not and serve. You can serve this while it’s still warm or at room temperature. Like all fruit pies this is best on the day that it is made.

Enjoy!

Note: Recipe adapted from The Book on Pie by Erin Jeannne McDowell. I used this pie crust recipe because it’s been my reliable go-to for years now, but I have used Erin’s too and it’s also terrific.

[sushiandstarlight]

Cookies: Chapter 16

This chapter includes yesterday’s prompt “evergreen” and today’s prompt “lights.”

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapter 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: G, light teen for suggestion, nothing explicit

It took some amount of time to get downstairs, what with the way Crowley pinned his angel to the bed. And then Aziraphale's wandering hands in the shower. And the way they wound up snogging each other senseless at the top of the stairs, almost winding up at the bottom by way of running afoul of gravity. By the time they made their entrance into the kitchen, hands linked, they were pink in the face and couldn't stop smiling at one another.

That was, until Aziraphale saw the pies lined up on the kitchen island: apple crumble, cherry lattice with sparkling sugar on top, and mince were all present but also accompanied by blackberry and peach. Aziraphale drew close and hovered over the pies, cooing about how beautiful they were. He reached out to touch one, but Edie smacked his hand with a spatula.

“Ow!” he yelped, yanking back his hand.

“They are for dinner tomorrow night,” Edie sounded deathly serious.

“Oh, alright, but they are beautiful,” Aziraphale sat on one of the barstools, continuing to admire them. Crowley recognized the rapt attention, remembering how Aziraphale had looked at him in the shower. He took a quick mental turn from that image before he was overwhelmed with the urge to grab the angel's wrist and drag him back to their bedroom.

“What have we got here, then?” Crowley sauntered to the counter, also admiring the pies. They were a thing of beauty. Gladys and Edie clearly had talent. Edie pointed out each type with the spatula and Crowley crowed, “you missed a couple, Angel. Off your game.”

“I was a bit distracted,” Aziraphale hmphed. Crowley approached his stool and spun it around to face him.

“You can only smell some pies over my mouth-watering aroma, then?”

“Or maybe you still smell like butter and sugar. It's distracting.”

“I've bathed!”

“I know, I helped!”

Crowley felt his face go crimson. He looked over at the ladies only to find them looking suddenly very busy facing the opposite counter.

“Maybe I'll be rubbing down with butter and sugar every day for you when we get home,” Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and smirked at him.

“Oh, that would be a terrible mess on my sheets.”

“Tell me, in this vision are they tartan?”

“...yes.”

“No loss there.”

“Hey!”

“That's okay, Angel,” Crowley wagged his eyebrows at him, “they're tartan in my vision, too.”

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled happily on the stool.

“Alright, that's enough mushiness near the pies, you're going to melt the pastry,” Edie swatted Crowley with a tea towel.

“Fine, fine. We'll move it along,” Crowley made a motion towards the sun room and set off for it. Aziraphale lingered, smiling bashfully at Edie and Gladys.

“You don't really mind, do you?” Aziraphale stood to leave.

“Nah,” Gladys winked at him and handed him a tiny mince pie, “Run along, now.”

Aziraphale smiled broadly and left, catching up with Crowley.

“Pssh, really?” Crowley had spotted the pie.

“Told you she likes me,” Aziraphale's smile was smug now.

“I think you're the favorite.”

“Do you want a piece.”

“Nah, I would rather watch you eat it.”

“I still don't understand what you get out of watching me eat,” Aziraphale sat on the loveseat, peering up at him. Crowley hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

“Well,” he shrugged, going for casual, “I like to watch you take pleasure in things. I like knowing you're enjoying yourself.” He sprawled on the other side of the loveseat, managing to take up most of the room while Aziraphale sat up properly. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and waited, watching Aziraphale with a lazy smile on his face.

“Could you...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away.

“Naw, now don't do that,” Crowley nudged the angel's knee with his own, “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, that's a list,” he looked back at Crowley, “I wondered if you might tip your glasses down while you watch me. I like watching you, too. Your eyes... they're so expressive.”

“Didn't know you liked 'em,” Crowley pulled his shades down his nose part way and peered at Aziraphale.

“I do. I like that you take them off when we're alone.”

“I've got nothing to hide from you,” Crowley watched as he took a small bit of the pie and hummed happily, “Except for Christmas.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Tomorrow, no secrets then.”

“Yes, I will feel better not keeping it from you.”

Crowley grunted, watching him take another bite and let out another hum, wiggling on the part of the cushion that Crowley wasn't currently sprawled over. Crowley kept watching him even as he finished, patting the sides of his lips with a napkin and brushing invisible crumbs off his trousers.

“It was one thing,” Crowley cleared his throat, but it did nothing to get rid of the gravelly sound his voice had dipped into, “before I knew what you sounded like when you... you know. Those little sounds you make, Angel, they would keep me up at night after our dinner dates. But, now I know...” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door and pushing up his glasses.

“Maybe a little dessert is in order.”

“Dessert,” Crowley blinked, confused, “But you just had pie.”

“It really does devil with your brains, doesn't it?”

“What?”

Aziraphale stood and made for the door, leaving the confused demon still on the sofa as he turned and went up the stairs.

“You dummy,” Edie poked her head around the door frame, from out of nowhere, “he wants you for dessert! You best get up there.”

He should have been mortified, but instead he just smiled at her and hoped he'd willed down the color that wanted to rush to his cheeks.

She high-fived him as he ran past her.

-

After supper it was decided that they would all go out and have a look at the lights that Aziraphale had been diligently hanging outside the inn. Crowley was happy enough to look at them, but still reluctant on account of the weather. The snow had continued to fall and it was ankle-deep now. He shivered as he peered out the the front door.

“You're not going out like that!” Gladys was behind him, shoving a long black coat into his hands, “You'll catch your death. I insist.” She watched him as he put it on and buttoned it and then wrapped a red and green scarf around his neck enough times that his chin was nearly lost inside it. And then she handed him mittens.

“Really? Where on this planet did you find men's sized mittens?”

“I made them.”

“What? Why?”

“For you! You always look cold. You make me cold just looking at you sometimes.”

He put on the green mittens, even though they made him feel silly. Pretty much instantly his hands felt warmer, but he wasn't about to tell her that. One look from her, told him she already knew, though.

“See, I thought you might take better care of yourself if doing so meant using a meaningful gift.”

Crowley clutched his hands to his chest and leaned in to her, whispering, “I'll treasure them, really.”

“Don't much care for treasuring, I'll be happy knowing you're using them.”

Aziraphale bustled by them in a cream-colored overcoat. He also had knitted mittens, but they were white with faux fur around the wrists. He pulled on a matching hat and stood by the door.

“Are we ready to go have a look?” Aziraphale craned to look past Gladys, “Where's Edie.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Edie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolates and passed them out. “No need to stand around out there freezing our buns off without something to keep us properly warm.”

“Finally, someone's speaking sense.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” she handed him his cocoa and patted his cheek- her hand was still warm from holding the cup- “if I'm the one speaking sense, we're in loads of trouble.”

Aziraphale opened the door and led them out into the parking lot. There wasn't a strong wind, but enough that it nipped sharply at Crowley's ears as he followed behind the others. He burrowed his face down into the scarf.

“Alright, turn back... now,” Aziraphale walked around and stood behind them as they turned back to the inn. They gasped and smiled and turned one at a time to congratulate him: The whole front of the inn was outlined in white lights, gently fading off and on at random. The walls were outlined in red and draped with net lights the same color. All the bushes were strewn with red and green lights.

Crowley was staring hard at the white lights, trying to discern a pattern to their tranquil flashing when he felt something warm and fuzzy slide over his ears. He jumped, reaching up to find earmuffs.

“Wha-”

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. There were too many layers to feel the angel's warmth and Crowley felt the pity of it. Still, his ears had stopped stinging.

“Thanks,” he leaned back and kissed the angel's chilly cheek and shivered dramatically, “The lights are beautiful.”

Gladys appeared in front of them and clutched both of their chins.

“You boys have made this Christmas so special, you know that right? We couldn't have done all of this without you.” She was looking at them very earnestly from beneath the low brim of her knit cap. It had a giant pompom on top that was wiggling with the light breeze.

“I think we're thoroughly enjoying our stay,” Aziraphale's voice sounded a little pinched.

“I think we'll all enjoy our stay more inside,” Crowley burrowed up to his sunglasses into the scarf around his neck, “Not that the lights aren't pretty.”

They went back inside, still sipping their cocoa.

“By the way,” Gladys said as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, “I got a call from the group holding the bake sale. All the baskets sold.”

“Oh, what marvelous news!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together happily.

“Someone, one person, bought all of them.”

“Wow, that's a lot of cookies for one person...” Crowley grumbled.

“And then donated the cookies to the orphans...” Gladys was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Don't look at me! I've been here the whole time,” Crowley squawked.

“I do wish I had thought of it, but I confess that I didn't,” Aziraphale looked honestly contrite.

“Whoever did it, it was an unexpected kindness,” Edie was still eyeing Crowley who shrugged at her.

“Anyway,” Gladys threw up her hands, giving up on having an answer tonight, “We all better get to bed. Santa's coming tonight! But he won't visit until we're all in our beds. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Gladys. Edie.” Aziraphale nodded to them and they watched the two wander off down the hall.

“You,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, “You bought all the cookies, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a wonderful thing to do.”

“Nah, it was alright.”

“The children will love them.”

“Come on now.”

“I think,” Crowley found himself being pressed against the nearest flat surface- the wall, thankfully next to the coat hooks,- and kissed sweetly, “You should be rewarded for your good deed.”

“Is it a good deed if there's a reward?”

“Sure, if the reward was unexpected,” Aziraphale practically dragged him up the stairs. As if he was going to protest.

Chapter 17 is now up!

[steves-on-a-plane]

Pumpkin Pie

For @thefanficfaerie​‘s OTP Challenge (2020) Words: 721  Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader     Prompt: Spooktacular Halloween: Day 7 - Pumpkin Pie Summary: Tony wanders into the kitchen to find his wife and new dog busy baking up a storm in the kitchen. In the mood for pie, Reader set out to bake a pumpkin, cherry and pistachio pudding pie.

“Mmm, something smells delicious.” You felt hands on your waist before Tony kissed you on the neck. “What are you cooking?”

“I was in the mood for pie.” You said. “But I couldn’t decide what kind, so I ran to the store and got ingredients for pumpkin, cherry and pistachio pudding.”

“Well Pumpkin, it was nice knowing you.” Tony teased the dog who was sleeping a few feet away on the kitchen floor. At the double mention of her name, Pumpkin perked her ears up and tilted her head to the side, waiting for further instruction.

“Good girl, Pumpkin! Ignore Dad he’s just being silly.” You cooed from your place at the counter. You went back to work pinching a pie crust into a baking tin.

“Dad?” Tony repeated incredulously.

“Well what else would our dog call you? Tony?” You asked. “Face it, Babe, you’re a dog dad now.”

“I’m not putting one of those ‘Dog Dad’ magnets on any of my cars.” He insisted. “But I will gladly eat some of these pies once they’re done.”

“It will go faster if you help.” You insisted. “You could get the KitchenAid out and start making the pistachio pudding.”

“But Mom, I was going to play in my lab with my computer stuff.” He whined already heading to the cupboard where you kept your mixer. “You know, I don’t remember the last time I made pudding.”

“You should be able to handle it, there’s literally two ingredients.” You commented as you continued scooping homemade cherry pie filling into the tin.

“Don’t know, sounds pretty complicated.” Tony commented as he measured out the two cups of milk he needed.

“Once you get that mixed, I already made a graham cracker crust.” You nodded at another pie tin that sat near Tony’s portion of the counter. “You can put the putting in there and then get the whole pie in the fridge.”

“JARVIS, can you turn on the oven and preheat to three hundred and seventy five degrees?” You asked the househould AI.

“Absolutely Mrs. Stark.” He answered back. You got to work laying pieces of crust in a lattice work design atop your cherry pie before the oven beeped and JARVIS let you know it was up to temperature. You assigned Tony’s his next tax, mixing the ingredients for the Pumpkin pie together.

“What are you doing?” Tony questioned you as he cracked some eggs into the mixture. “Pumpkin pie doesn’t have a top crust.”

“I know.” You assured him. You continued to roll out the pie crust before you. “But I thought I’d cut out a few of these and arrange them on the top.” You showed him the leaf cookie cutter you planned on using. You just wanted to add a hint of decoration to the pie. Pumpkin the dog perked her head up once again.

“Well just because it’s a pie, doesn’t mean it has to be boring.” Tony agreed. “But I think a certain someone is looking for a snack.” Tony nodded his head in Pumpkin’s direction.

“Don’t worry, Sweety, Mommy didn’t forget about you!” You wiped your hands on your apron and walk over to the cupboard where you stored your dog food. From the doggy snack cupboard, you found the Pumpkin flavored Dog chews that you’d bought earlier and removed one to offer to Pumpkin. At the sight of the snack her tail was wagging. Pumpkin barked excitedly. “Here you go, good girl.” You handed her the chew and she let you pet her head once before she trotted back to her bed and laid down. You washed your hands and finished cutting out your leaves.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a Holly Homemaker.” Tony commented an hour later as you admired your three perfect pies.

“I like to bake.” You shrugged. “Don’t go getting any ideas.” You warned him. “I still can’t do much other than boil water when it comes to regular food. So,” You handed Tony a fork. “Which of these should we try first?”

“Well, a good judge will sample all three.” Tony declared. He dipped his fork into the Cherry pie, which was the closest to him. “Mmm, on second thought, I want another bite of that one! He went in for a second bite before you could stop him.