#And the aroma when it comes out of the oven is divine.

[redheadspark]

can i request 3 from the actions list with jack russell from wwbn? thanks xx

A/N - Hey! I'll keep this one nice and short, thanks for requesting!

Obsessed

Summary - Who knew that a werewolf would be obsessed with Halloween

Warnings - Just some cute fluff :)

“Darling?”

“Oh, one second, Amor!  I’m in the kitchen and I’m almost done, is something wrong?”

“No…not really. I’m just….surprised,”

Having a somewhat decent day at your office job, you were looking forward to unwinding for the night with Jack, getting some more time with him before he would go off on another Monster Hunting Job that was in Europe.  But the last thing you were expecting to see, or even interact with at all, your little apartment decked out head to toe in Halloween Decor.

But how could you be surprised, given he fact that Jack was obsessed with the Holiday.

Being a Werewolf himself, he knew most of the myths and facts about Halloween and thought of it as an amazing holiday to celebrate.  You never minded it yourself, but it was intensified with Jack when you tow started dating.  Once late September and October came through, Jack’s mind was was the color of orange and black, on the crazy and insane sweets he would buy at the store, and without a doubt, the classic horror movies from the 30’s and 40’s.  He lived and breathed Halloween, it always brightened his mood during that time of year.

When you two moved in together, Jack was already thinking of the decor that he would use in the small space.  You both were already cramped, given your office job that plenty of things to take home and work on and his Monster Hunting equipment would be sprawled out all over the place, you had to wonder if Halloween decorations would even fit in the living room.

Jack made it work, along with the kitchen, bathroom, and even the bedroom.

Sure enough, there were plastic skeleton heads in the coffee table bowl, black candles that were massive already lit on the candle holders that looked like tree branches, and even the cocktail trolley had signs that said “Witches Brew” and “Lycranthropy Headquarters”. You had to admit, it all looked great.  Nothing cheesy or nothing too scary or horrid, but perfectly placed in the right spot.

“Ah!  I wanted it to be a surprise for you before you came home!” Jack came out from the bedroom, a few more decorations in hand as he saw you looking around the living room with a massive grin, “I must have lost time.  How was work, Amor?”

“Oh, good.  Nothing crazy yet,” You admitted as he walked over to give you a sweet kiss, “Jack, this looks awesome!  I could have helped you, you know,”

“No, I like doing this, it’s a bit calming for me before I leave for my job,” He replied as he made his way over to the kitchen.  You followed, smelling a sweet aroma near the stovetop.  A Dutch Oven was filled with boiling water, along with slices of apples and cinnamon sticks along with cloves.

“Smells divine,” You said to him as he pushed some of the apples around with a wooden spoon.

“Ah, my mother used to do this to fill the house with the smell of Autumn,” he explained, “I figured we would use this in our tiny apartment to officially being in Halloween,”

“Well, I wish to thank her to showing you how to do this,” You hummed as him as you kissed his cheek, “You ready for your trip?”

“Bags are packed and ready to go,” he reassured him as he turned down the heat very slightly on the stove, “Now, go take a shower and unwind a bit, I’m gonna order some food and we’re going to watch a classic tonight,”

“Which one?”

“Wolf Man, of course,”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Hearing Jack chuckle, you made your way over to the hallway that led to your bedroom and master bathroom, rubbing the back of your neck to ease some of the tension that was still there from work.  The sweet scent of the Autumn Aroma was floating everywhere in the apartment, letting the stress melt away and bringing in the warmth that you knew would come in Autumn.  It made you thankful that Jack found pleasure in the little things, whether it was him making your home a sacred place to unwind and relax in, or doing activities that made him feel happy and joyful in the harsher times of his life.  Jack’s heart was worth more than gold.

And it showed, even in his Halloween Decorations.

But of course you were surprised to see the skeleton hanging on the bathroom door when you walked in, you screaming from the sight and sighing heavily.  That’s when you heard his voice from the door.

“Sorry, Amor!  I’ll take the skeleton out of there!”

The End.

Halloween Prompt Session

[gatheringfantasies]

@illusionoftransience

Continue from here

Perhaps Siusaidh's thoughts about Manako being a grandma type may hold it's own merits course some people may see her as a motherly type as well who has a lot of heart to give. After all, Manako loves eating her own sweets she bakes and tends to enjoy multiple servings which may explain her figure that seemed quite soft.

Her trust and her carefree nature come with the way Cupid was, being a kind-hearted individual who couldn't hurt a fly in normal circumstances and sees the good in others, especially those who can come into this forest and find her cozy home. Then her ears twitched as she heard the guest speaking out to her.

“E-Eh? Manacutie?” The nickname taken her aback, that soft pink blush kept on her face only grew from it not minding the bow. “I-I wouldn't call myself divine- well- I- well- not like an angel since their ranked higher above than we cupids. Still, I'm happy you are happy to learn more about cupids since we're not really that much known and with some uh- poor examples. Oh right! The cookies!”

The cupid gasped as she went to the kitchen and focuses on the cookies making sure they were made to perfection with this sudden arrival of her new guest and acquiescence. Thank goodness they are still in the proper ranged and needs a little more time until they are fully completed without burning them which had only happen a couple of time when she first started baking in her home away from home.

There seemed to be a few potted flowers in the living room as well as one in front of the window to receive plenty of sunlight, to say the least, they were in good condition. Course Manako was allowing Shou to do as she pleased in her home so even if she noticed where she was headed she wouldn't mind finding out there was no basement this also included no floor upwards making it seem like a one-level home. Though, some of the mattress here was made by special means perhaps some traces of magic that clearly wasn't the cupid's.

“Ah!” She got surprised as hopped in placed from the sudden hand on her back! “Yes, yes I'm doing alright there~. Actually. . .~” Turning off the oven she places some pink mittens on and opens the oven. Carefully taking out the fully baked cookies that filled the air with it's chocolaty aroma and places the tray on top.

“I'm thankful for your offering but I don't have anything that needs to be carried. Though, you may grab a drink from the refrigerator there's plenty of milk last time I checked.” Manako smiled though that blush that only had vanish came back as she looks to the side seeing Shou beside her as suddenly as she placed her hand on her back. “T-thank you, I'm glad you think that. I've baked a lot with my mother when I was little. She would teach me all kinds of things, recipes, and other tips on how to properly bake. S-so, I had a lot of time to get uh- s-skilled with my baking that even those I've known for a few love it. If you want, you may grab a cookie right now as long you are careful.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Honey Lemon (Part 2)

Since it has been quite some time; here’s part 1.

Summary: At some point during her healing journey, Azula discovers that she has a fondness for bees. She settles down in a little Earth Kingdom village and becomes a beekeeper and sells honey.

Azula lays back, her hair fans out around her. The same breeze that rustles the dandelions tickles her face as it gusts over it. She puts her hands behind her head and under her hair. 

Cloud gazing–it has never crossed her mind to do it. 

At least not in the Fire Nation where there is no room for idle moments. 

She moves one arm, plucks a dandelion and twirls it in front of her face. She lets it fall from between her fingers and rests that hand upon her belly. She closes her eyes and drinks in the feeling of sunshine on her cheeks.

She hears Kei Lo shifting and shuffling next to her. He rolls onto his side, she pretends not to notice if only to get just one more moment of peace.

“Should we check on the pie?” He asks. 

Azula cracks an eye open, “hmmm?”

“The pie, should we check on it?”

“Right.” Azula sits up and stretches with a yawn. “Yes. The pie.” Looking at the way the sun casts the shadows it must be at least noon. She exhales, since when has she become so unconcerned and languid? It could be good for her, she supposes. After so many years of pushing herself. That is not to say that she has let herself grow complacent and outright lazy. At least she hopes that she hasn’t. 

She gets to her feet and dusts herself off. 

Decidedly tomorrow will be the day. She will begin seeking out someone to teach her the art of glassblowing while Kei Lo takes her honey to the market. She holds her hand out and helps Kei Lo to his feet. 

A vivid fragrance of lemon wafts about the entire house, it settles into the wood and works its way over the sofas and decorative pillows. A more subtle tinge of honey adds a sort of warmth to the aroma that reminds Azula that she is alright now. That things are okay.

That the worst moments of her life have finally come to a close. 

Life is kinder to her now and its kindness is extended through gentle scents and Kei Lo’s hand on her back. 

She ties her hair up and out of her face and fixes an apron around her waist. The one that Kei Lo bought her with the cream fabric and the embroidered buttercups. It isn’t quite her taste but it is practical enough and she can’t argue with practicality. 

The honey-lemon pie sits nice and cozy above a fire on a shelf in a stone alcove. She bends the fire away to nothing and kneels down to inspect pie. A rippling wave of heat greets her with a much more pungent honey-lemon perfume. She closes her eyes and inhales–it does her well, she thinks, to take these little moments to appreciate mundane pleasures. The ones that she had deprived herself of for much of her life. 

Part of her is thankful that she had.

She cherishes them with a greater profoundness. 

She slips a pair of mitts onto her hands and removes the pie from the oven. 

“It smells delicious.” Kei Lo observes. He stands behind her and takes her by the middle, presses a kiss to the side of her neck. 

“Yes it does, doesn’t it…” She trails off.

Sometimes her mind grows distant.

This time, as it is on occasions, she finds that her cheeks are a little damp.

“What’s wrong?”

She furrows her brows and shakes her head.

She wishes that she had an answer for him. 

He wipes one of those tears away with his thumb. And she roughly wipes the other away with the back of her hand. She isn’t sad, she has no reason to be. A lot of the time these days, when she cries it has nothing to do with being upset or stressed. 

A lot of the time these days, she is just emotional.

She cuts herself a little square of pie and samples it. Just slightly hotter than comfortably warm, it melts divinely on her tongue with a tangy burst that is both sweet and sour all at once. Honey and lemon in unison.

They are a bit like lemon and honey, she and Kei Lo. 

She turns around to meet his smile. The man cups her cheek. She swallows and her tummy tickles. And there it is, that thing that makes her want to cry. 

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” He says. 

She nods. 

And she realizes that it wasn’t a question at all, but a statement. 

An observation. 

She is happy and that is why she has been crying lately. She is crying because she doesn’t know how else to handle being happy and relatively care free.

[deluxepizzaengadine]

Mastering Pizza in Caringbah: A Gastronomic Delight

When it comes to indulging in delectable, mouthwatering pizzas, Caringbah stands out as a hidden gem in the culinary world. Our journey begins in the heart of this suburban paradise, where we explore the vibrant pizza culture that has left both locals and visitors craving for more. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the tantalizing world of Caringbah's pizza scene, sharing insights, recommendations, and the best-kept secrets that will undoubtedly elevate your pizza experience.

The Pioneers of Pizza in Caringbah

Caringbah Pizza Hub, a beloved establishment that has stood the test of time, takes pride in crafting pizzas that are nothing short of divine. Established over two decades ago, this family-owned pizzeria has perfected the art of blending tradition with innovation. Their wood-fired oven pizzas, prepared with the finest ingredients, have earned them a dedicated following.

The Pizza Varieties That Define Caringbah

Margherita Magic

One cannot talk about pizza in Caringbah without mentioning the iconic Margherita. Fresh mozzarella, handpicked basil leaves, and succulent tomatoes come together in a harmonious blend, creating a pizza that's both visually appealing and incredibly flavorful.

Seafood Sensation

For seafood aficionados, Caringbah offers a delightful twist with its seafood pizzas. Imagine a medley of prawns, calamari, and fresh fish, drizzled with a zesty lemon-garlic sauce, all resting atop a crispy, thin crust. It's a symphony of flavors that captures the essence of the ocean.

Veggie Extravaganza

Vegetarians, too, have their cravings satisfied in Caringbah. Roasted peppers, caramelized onions, artichoke hearts, and creamy goat cheese unite to create a veggie pizza that's a taste explosion. Every bite is a burst of wholesome goodness.

The Secret Sauce: Fresh Ingredients

What sets Caringbah's pizza apart is its commitment to using only the freshest and finest ingredients. The tomato sauce is prepared from handpicked, vine-ripened tomatoes, while the cheese is a blend of creamy mozzarella and aged Parmesan. The dough, a closely guarded family recipe, undergoes meticulous fermentation to achieve the perfect crust.

Beyond Pizzas: Scrumptious Sides

While pizza reigns supreme in Caringbah, the culinary offerings extend beyond. Complement your pizza with delectable side dishes such as crispy garlic bread, cheesy arancini balls, and fresh salads bursting with locally sourced produce.

A Slice of Caringbah's History

To truly appreciate Caringbah's pizza culture, one must understand its historical significance. The suburb's roots are deeply intertwined with Italian immigration, with many families bringing their culinary traditions to this picturesque corner of Sydney. Over time, these traditions evolved and fused with Australian tastes, giving birth to the unique pizza culture we know today.

The Caringbah Pizza Experience

When you step into a Caringbah pizzeria, you're not just having a meal; you're immersing yourself in a culinary journey. The warm ambiance, friendly staff, and the unmistakable aroma of wood-fired pizza create an experience that's as memorable as it is delicious.

Why Choose Caringbah for Pizza?

1. Unparalleled Quality

Caringbah's pizzerias set the bar high when it comes to quality. Each ingredient is chosen with care, and the passion for crafting exceptional pizzas shines through in every slice.

2. Variety Galore

Whether you're a meat lover, a vegetarian, or a seafood enthusiast, Caringbah's pizzerias have a pizza that suits your taste buds. The diverse range of options ensures that there's something for everyone.

3. Community and Tradition

The Pizza Caringbah is more than just eateries; they are an integral part of the local community. They uphold traditions while embracing innovation, making each visit a celebration of culture and culinary expertise.

Conclusion

In the realm of pizza, Caringbah stands as a beacon of excellence. The passion, history, and unwavering commitment to quality make it a must-visit destination for pizza lovers from near and far. So, the next time you find yourself craving the perfect pizza experience, look no further than Caringbah, where every bite tells a story of tradition, taste, and tantalizing delight.

[87898]

if you want to know my diet you can purchase the recipe book and make a bofy structure like me

bio.link/savitrid

The ones you buy at the store are usually dry and crumbly - not like real bread at all.

My keto bread is fluffy and light and it doesn't fall apart. It tastes like real bread and it chews like real bread.

And the aroma when it comes out of the oven is divine.

Plus, my lasagna oozes with flavor and spices… Basil. Parsley. Fennel. Oregano. Thyme. Garlic. Fresh tomatoes. Two types of meat. So delicious!

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Power Armor Punch Part 2

Masterlist

Jasmine: “Hm. I guess so.”

Nick: *turns his head to the door of his office* You better not be snacking on the stew down there!

Lucille: Ah! *drops the spoon on the floor*

Nick: *sighs and covers his face, shaking his head* Lucille is going to be the death of me one day...

Jasmine: (Stares up at him)

Nick: *notices* Not literally. It's just a saying. *reassuring smile as he gets ready to get up again* Better take over the cooking again before Lucille eats it all...

Jasmine: “…..okay.”

Nick: *gets up and goes to the kitchen* You like my cooking that much?!

Lucille: It's so good! I couldn't help it, Nick!

Nick: *sighs* So how's the flavor?

Lucille: The bramalough meat is really starting to come out in the broth. I think it's almost ready.

Nick: *checks* The vegetables seem soft enough... *takes a taste himself* Ah. Perfect. *sets it on the back burner before turning the other one off* Now the bread... *takes a peak and the sweet aroma of razorgrain bread wafts through the entire agency*

Lucille: Mmmm... I'm in love...

Nick: *raises an eyebrow as he stares back at her*

Lucille: With the bread!

Nick: ... *just goes back to checking the bread* Just a few minutes more. *shuts the oven*

Lucille: *pouts*

Jasmine: (Debating whether or not to come out of the desk)

Lucille: It smells like it's done...

Nick: It isn't. Trust me. *leans against the stove* It certainly smells divine...

Lucille: You're telling me... *licks her lips* I might take the whole loaf.

Nick: *growls* It's for everyone to share. Don't be a pig.

Lucille: *pouts*

Jasmine: (Decides to stay under the desk a little longer)

Nick and Lucille: *stand there in awkward silence for a few minutes*

Nick: *finally* Alright. Now, it's done. *pulls out the bread pan. The loaf inside it is all fluffy and golden brown. The delicious smell overtakes the agency, mixing with the pleasant aroma of Bramalough stew*

Lucille: *already pulling out the plates, bowls, and silverware*

Jasmine: (To herself) “Oh god, he is going to want me to eat some, huh….”

Lucille: *already ready to chow down with her bowl and plate in hand*

Nick: *already cut a few slices of bread* *takes them, puts a healthy amount of stew in the bowl and a slice of warm bread in on the plate... then promptly takes it to Jasmine instead*

Lucille: Nick-!

Nick: You can wait. Jas needs it more. *as he heads to the office* Go ahead and dish up a portion for yourself. Leave some for others if they come by.

Lucille: Will do...

Jasmine: (Hears them talking and Nicks footsteps approaching)

Nick: *crouches in front of the desk again and slides the food to her*

Jasmine: (Looking up at him) “…..If I put up a fuss about eating, would I be wasting my breath?”

Nick: Probably. Though, I think I'd be a little insulted if you didn't at least try a to taste it... *smiles a little at her*

Jasmine: “Hm…. has Lucille eaten?”

Lucille: *already diving into the stew, enjoying every bite. One step away from pulling a Dogmeat and slamming her face into the bowl, it's that good*

Nick: You kidding?! She was practically drooling over the stew when I told her to dish up! She's probably inhaling it in the dining room as we speak.

Jasmine: “Hah, that is why I put locks on my extra cookies.”

Nick: *Raises a brow* You trying to change the subject?

Jasmine: “I cannot hide from a detective…..”

Nick: No. No you can't. Now eat your stew.

Jasmine: “Right… straight to the point.”

Nick: You can’t be evasive with this one.

Jasmine: (Under her breath) “You would be surprised.”

Nick: Well, it's either eat your stew and drink water or I break out the Stimpak-

Jasmine: “I- do not know which one is worse….” (Looking down at her feet)

Nick: I think you'd prefer to taste delicious stew than be poked with a needle... buuut I could always arrange the latter.

Jasmine: “Hm… I guess making another run for it is not a option.”

Nick: Nope. Really, though. Try the stew...

Lucille: *taking a bite of the bread. Her eyes water at how soft and tasty it is*

Jasmine: “I am going to assume at Lucille’s robots are still blocking the door?” (Scooting a little further back into the desk)

Nick: Haven't moved an inch...

Lucille: *grabs a piece of bread and runs up to the office* Jaz you have to TRY this bread! It's amazing!

Nick: Good to know someone's a fan of my cooking! *grinning*

Lucille: *sadly* Jazzy doesn't like your food?

Nick: It's not that...

Jasmine: (Jumps back at the sound of Lucille running, bumping her head on the top of the desk) (Quietly) “Shit…..”

Lucille: Oh- sorry...

Nick: You okay...?

Jasmine: “Yeah…. I will be fine.”

Lucille: You going to eat? The bread is pretty tasty!

Jasmine: (Looks at Nick) “Are you offended?”

Nick: *waves the question away* Forget about me, kid. At this point, I just want you to eat.

Jasmine: “Yeah, and I wanted Giddy-Up Buttercup when I was little.”

Nick: You’re not dodging this.

Lucille: I will build you a big Giddy-Up Buttercup if you promise to eat regularly. Starting now.

Nick: Don't indulge her. You need to eat. Now.

Jasmine: (Looks directly at Lucille) “Funny, Mom tried to made a similar deal…..”

Lucille: But I can actually BUILD a Giddyup Buttercup!

Nick: *sighs and pulls out a stimpak* Lucille, you're not helping... *to Jasmine* My patience is starting to run thin, Jas...

Jasmine: (Now looks straight at Nick) “Mom said the same thing. Also, I am wearing a long sleeved jacket, so do not try to jab me, please.”

Nick: Not an excuse. Needles can go through fabric. Trust me on this.

Lucille: I think my robots speak for themselves when I say YES I actually CAN build a Buttercup!

Jasmine: (Turns to Lucille) “I am sure you can build a Buttercup, no doubt in that.” (Scooting further back into the desk)

Nick: Jas…

Jasmine: (Eyeing the Stimpak) “Why do you have to care about me so much Dad?”

Nick: Why shouldn't I?

Jasmine: “I-… do not have a answer to that…”

Nick: A parent should care about their own kid. It's not only right, it's how it should be... even if that kid turns out to be the leader of a bunch of Boogeymen. *looks back at Lucille*

Lucille: *nods*

Nick: Speaking of, where's your son, Lucille?

Lucille: He'll come event-

Shaun: *in the dining room* Ooh! Someone made stew? *dishes up already*

Lucille: There he is...

Jasmine: (Goes silent)

Nick: *mutters* Unfortunately, not all parents are created equal...

Shaun: *takes a bite of the stew. His eyes sparkle at the flavor. Calls up from the bottom floor* Mr. Valentine, did you cook this?

Nick: *looks to the hall and calls out* Sure did, Shaun! Go ahead and help yourself to as much as you'd like.

Shaun: Thank you, Mr. Valentine!

Nick: My pleasure, kiddo!

Jasmine: “Ha, kids are cute…..”

Nick: Speaking of... some kids should eat their stew unless they want a Stimpak sticking them. No, Jas, I will not stop pestering you until one or the other happens.

Jasmine: (Immediately protests) “I am not a kid!”

Nick: You could have fooled me. You did call me "Dad" a second ago.

Lucille: And you're acting like a little kid. *crossing her arms* Refusing to eat, not getting treatment when you so obviously need it, running away from your problem-

Nick: *irritably* I think that's enough, Lucille...

Jasmine: (Sarcastically under her breath) “I am sorry I am too traumatized go eat.” (Shakes her head) “Well then, explain how an adult would be acting right now?”

Lucille: An adult would at least attempt to eat- or at least find a way to make the pain go away despite their trauma.

Nick: Don't you remember how you felt after leaving the vault...? I doubt your appetite was exactly high at the time.

Lucille: On the contrary. I didn't have a choice. If I didn't eat, I wouldn't have the energy to fight. I needed to eat to survive no matter how bad I felt. *coldly* You either eat or you get eaten in the wasteland.

Nick: *sighs with dissapointment at Lucille. Turns to Jasmine* There's no need to be a wise ass. Now look, being difficult isn't going to get you anywhere but prolong your suffering. You can't sleep right now because we don't know the extent of your concussion. Food and water can make it at least bearable until you recover. A stimpak will fix it immediately with a simple jab in the shoulder. That's the reality of the situation, currently. So what will it be, Jas?

Jasmine: “I am sorry that I am difficult, but when Lucille jabbed me with the last Stimpak, all my fight or flight instincts kicked in and… Now I am under this desk trying to hide from a nonexistent threat.”

Nick: So you understand there isn't actually a threat. That's good- that means you understand you're in a safe place. Now how do we go from there to eating and getting out from under the desk?

Jasmine: (Shrugs her shoulders) (Sarcastically) “Guess this desk is my home now, because I do not have a fucking clue.”

Nick: *really starting to grow exasperated* You know, if being a smart-ass was the cure to every medical issue under the sun, your concussion would be gone by now. People are trying to help you and you keep trying to push them away or worse... but fine, if that's how you want to play this, then so be it. *finally gets up. To Lucille* Make sure she doesn't hurt herself. *as he starts to storm off* I'll be in the kitchen tidying up if either of you need anything. I need to cool off.

Lucille: Got it, Nick. *goes and sits against the wall in front of the desk*

Jasmine: (Quietly to herself) “Well now you have gone and done it again. You cannot tell when someone actually loves and cares about you. Ha, guess they were right, you are too fucked up to be fixed.”

Lucille: Hey. Cut that out. That's self harm, too... also, Nick does care about you... but you keep fighting him. Furthermore, it's not up to him or anyone else to fix you. Only you can do that.

Jasmine: “Okay, 1: I was talking to myself- mind your own business, woman! 2: I am not relying on anybody to fix me, or relying on anybody in any matter. I can and will help myself. 3: I know Nick cares about me, that is the problem, I do not know how to respond to that!!! Every other adult in the last decade have treated me like shit, telling me that I should never be cared about or loved, and I believed them! I still do and now... Just-…. forget I said anything.”

Lucille: *rests her cheek on her robot hand* If you want to know how to respond you could just... let him help...

Jasmine: (Quietly) “Just forget it Lucille. You have your kid to worry about. And it is not that simple.”

Lucille: Shaun can take care of himself pretty well, actually. He's in a place where he's safe, where people care about him, love him, treat him with respect. He knows that I have my hands full, managing settlements, getting supplies to maintain his home. I'm not worried about him... so using Shaun to convince me to abandon my post, watching you? Making sure you don't hurt yourself? It's not going to work. *brows nit bitterly as she focuses on the girl under the desk* And I'm aware it's not that simple. You're scared this is all one big trick. That everyone is out to get you because of what those terrible people did to you. You think "no one can possibly care about me, so why even bother?!" You think that everyone is just... like that, now. *flicks her good hand with a sincere apologetic frown* I'm sorry for that. Truly, I am. *frown deepens* But I know as well as anyone out here what's going on. *leans forward, the synth eye glowing much brighter* You're spiraling. You're running away. And the cycle of loneliness and pain you're going through will keep up until that cycle is broken.

Jasmine: (Eyes her down with a snarl) “What part of leave me alone did you not understand?”

Lucille: *pointblank. Not intimidated. She's looked into the eyes of death before and laughed* The part where a I've been asked to keep an eye on you by our mutual father figure.

Jasmine: “Relentless huh? Goddammit.”

Lucille: *just stares at her, slowly blinking*

Jasmine: “Stop looking at me!”

Lucille: *looks away but keeps an eye on her in her peripheral vision*

Jasmine: (Wipes her eyes to try to hide her forming tears, shrinking back) (Whispering to herself) “Just had to make everything shit by opening your damned mouth.”

Lucille: *mutters softly to herself... low enough that Jas can't hear* Why do I keep trying to help people who don't want to help themselves...? You try to be friendly but all you get are a bunch people who want to fight you... *wonders how Nick puts up with it all*

Jasmine: (Picks at her arms to help relieve some stress)

Lucille: *immediately turns, leans forward, and gently knocks her hand away from her arms* Stop.

Jasmine: (Immediately shoves her right back) “Do not touch me!

Lucille: *stays back* So that's it, you're just going to lie down and let those bastards win? You're not even going to put up a fight by taking care of yourself?! You keep pulling this lone wolf shit, pushing everyone away who wants to HELP you and you'll have done nothing but prove them right! Is that really what you want-?! *clicks her teeth and looks away again* You know what? Never mind. I'm wasting my breath. I'm getting so tired of helping people who only want to fight... or throw themselves off a cliff. *bitterly at herself* Maybe I should stop, now...

Jasmine: “Yes, please leave. Because I swear on my mothers grave that if you suddenly get close to me again- I will punch the living daylights out of you.”

Lucille: *her left eye twitches angrily but she takes a deep breath. She so badly wants to throw the desk to the wall, forcing Jasmine to stop hiding but she knows it won't do much. Instead she takes out a 10 mm pistol, removes all but 1 round- a blank so it's harmless, but still 1 round- in it and slides it over to Jasmine* You want to lay down and die that badly, then do it right in front of me. *doesn't actually want her to, she's calling her bluff on how little she cares about herself*

Jasmine: (Stares at the older girl for a moment) “Hm…” (Takes out her knife from the inside of her shirt and stabs herself in the arm) “I swore to my Mom I would never die by my own bullet, it was the only way I could get her permission to do shooting lessons.” (Removes the knife and stabs her torso area multiple times)

Lucille: WHAT THE-?! *didn't think she'd actually try- cursing herself out as she tackles Jasmine, knocking the knife away while seamlessly sticking her with a stimpak before it's too late*

Nick: *already running to his office* What the hell is going on here?!

Lucille: *already scrambling back with Jasmine's blood all over her before the girl can react* I'm sorry-! I didn't think she'd actually- God, what have I done?! *absolutely freaking out* I thought-! *tearing up with her robot hand over her mouth, realizing it too is covered in blood. Feels sick. Swore she would never be responsible for taking an innocent life with the parts of her adopted father... and here she is, covered in her adopted sister's blood* I'm sorry-! *chokes on a sob*

Jasmine: “Bloody hell lady!” (Jumps out from under the desk to slap Lucille harshly) “What the fuck did you want me to to do?!” (Snatching her knife and holding the open blade in her hand tightly before falling on her knees to look at her blood) “Ha, more blood pooling on me than I thought….”

Lucille: *just falls over limply* I deserved that...

Nick: *sternly* Jasmine... hand over the knife. Now. I won't ask again. *kneels and extends his good hand* After that, I'm checking you for any wounds. This is not negotiable.

Lucille: I was trying to call your bluff on how willing you were to give up. I even loaded a blank to make sure you wouldn't actually die...

Jasmine: (Sarcastically) “Brilliant plan Lucille, worked like a charm. 10/10.” (Looking down at the wounds on her sides)

Nick: *manages to take the knife away and stick her with yet another stimpak to heal her wounds. He cups Jasmine's face* Enough. Lucille will get a good talking to later. What matters now is that you're still here. Alive.

Lucille: *defeatedly* If it's all the same to you, I think I'll just hand in my eye and arm...

Nick: We're not doing that...

Jasmine: (Quivering) “Physically? Yes. Mentally? No. That was my third stimpack and if I do not faint in the next few seconds I just might throw up. Also, you do know I have more knives on me, right?”

Nick: *sighs* Of course you do... We should take you to Amari. She's the closest thing to a psychiatrist in the Commonwealth. You need help and I'm afraid I can't provide the kind you need... *carefully rubs the girl's cheek, fearing for her health*

Jasmine: “Yeah, like that is gonna go over well. I am not too fond of speaking about feelings or whatever, I will just take it as an interrogation session if you can even manage to get me to go.” (Slightly leaning into his touch)

Nick: Give it a chance, Jaz... can you do it for me at least...?

Jasmine: (Stares at him blankly)

Nick: Jazzy?

Jasmine: “I did not even do it for my Mom and sister.” (Trying to pull away from him)

Nick: *frowns, but lets her. Looks down then up at her sadly before finally looking down. Defeatedly* Go clean yourself up... You can crash on the couch in the loft downstairs... *feels he's at a loss*

Jasmine: (Sitting back) “I will just sit here for a little bit until the room stops spinning and I feel like I am not going to black out.” (Looks between the two adults) “I do not understand why both of you are acting like I tried to kill myself, I have been stabbed in way worse places and had to walk one distances afterwords and I survived.”

Lucille: Because you stabbed yourself.

Nick: And frankly, that alone is cause for concern.

Jasmine: (Spacing out, seemingly not hearing their words)

Nick: *comes back with a wash cloth and cleans her up as best as he can and lifts her to her feet, supporting her* Come on... let's get you to the couch... *starts walking her out of the room*

Jasmine: “I-… can walk myself.” (Tugging away)

Nick: You sure...? You don't seem that physically stable... *very certain now on how stable she is mentally... and that's not at all. Meant it when he said he'd lecture Lucille and still means to*

Jasmine: (Swaying but catching herself) “Yeah, I am sure. It is just my mind trying to shut off because of the stimpaks.” (Stumbling again) “Shit…”

Nick: You're probably more likely woozy from blood loss than you are the Stimpaks. They're not that kind of chem in my experience... *goes back to supporting her* Come on, let's go. Don't want you hitting your head again...

Jasmine: “Oh yeah, that too. But I think it is my mind shutting off to protect myself after being injected with something… nothing good ever happened after that…” (Trying to pull away again) “Seriously Nick, I can walk myself.”

Nick: *tight grip this time* Sorry. Can't let you do that. Please trust me when I say I'm doing this for you're own good? *almost pleadingly* Please...?

Jasmine: (still trying to wiggle out) “Ha, iron grip….”

Nick: *stern but worried tone as he tightens his grip more* Stop. Please. *sees the couch as they turn the last set of stairs* Look. We're almost there. I know I'm not the most perfect company, but bare with me for just a little longer.

Jasmine: (Stops struggling and looks at her feet with a heavy sigh)

Nick: *relieved when he finally gets her to the couch and sets her down safely* There...

Jasmine: (Rests her head on her knees while she speaks under her breath) “God, why do I even try.…” (Wiping blood off her jacket)

Nick: *leaves and comes back with a fresh washcloth* Here, kiddo. *dabs away the rest of the blood*

Shaun: *already went back to the atrium to tinker. He likes to hang out where the other settlers are usually*

Lucille: *cleaning up Nick's office... it's the least she can do*

Jasmine: “Thanks….” (Spacing back out)

Nick: *After a moment* You have a knife in your jacket pocket?

Jasmine: (Quietly) “I have three on me.”

Nick: May I have them, please?

Lucille: *feels terrible, still... she finishes cleaning everything up and starts sneaking down the stairs to leave the agency, her chameleon armor turning her invisible*

Jasmine: (Shakes her head) “Honestly, you would have to pry them off my cold dead body, they are my safety measures.”

Nick: "Safety Measures..." *glares as he scoffs in disbelief* After what just happened, I don't think they're as safe as you think they are.

Jasmine: (Distantly) “Hm…” (spacing off again)

Lucille: *takes advantage of Jasmine spacing off to quickly pickpocket the knives off her, quickly sneaking off after before she can catch wise*

Nick: *in this case turns a blind eye to it*

Jasmine: “And you are aware that I hide them all over the place on my body and furniture, right?”

Lucille: *too late for Jas. She's already made off with the ones she could reach*

Nick: *frustrated sigh. goes and sits in a nearby chair to watch Jas in case she pulls out yet another hidden knife. If he's quick enough he can swipe it right out of her hands*

Jasmine: (Snaps out of it- realizing that some of her knives are missing) “Hey!” (Stands up to go after Lucille but falls on the floor on her knees) “Fucking… gah!”

Nick: *gets up and helps her back into the couch* You can get them back later... *lying but its to put Jas at ease* Rest.

Lucille: *walling off the subway station to turn into her personal home. Doesn't feel she's welcome in the Agency anymore*

Jasmine: (Eyes him closely) “I highly doubt that...” (Shakes her head to change her sentence) “I doubt that I will be able to rest.” (Stands back up)

Nick: *stands in front of her. Sternly* Sit down. You're in no condition to move...

Lucille: *feels like all of her efforts are pointless. Doesn't think Nick wants or particularly needs her around right now... especially with what happened with Jas.* Sorry, Nick. I don't deserve these parts. *She stares at her metal hand then looks up to where her synth arm is connected to her shoulder and considers what it would take to remove it.*

Jasmine: (Looks right back up at him in the eye) “You are right, but I need to do something, anything other than lay around with my thoughts that are not very good right now. So please move because I am NOT staying here no matter what.” (Moving to around him)

Nick: *already stepping in front of her again* Well, I didn't realize my agency was so off-putting to you. Now if you'd just stop for a second I'm sure we can find SOMETHING benign for you to do that won't result in you getting yourself killed.

Lucille: *pulling out some tools and starts working on the connecting joint to her shoulder, slowly starting on removing the arm using a mirror. Freezes in place when she catches the gaze of her left eye. For a moment she sees Nick's dissapointed frown* Don't look at me that way, you old bot. It's for the best. Your old arm should have stayed where it was... *working diligently on the limb*

Jasmine: (Dodging around him) “That is for me and my messed up soul to figure out, alright?” (Walking away but stumbling slightly) “Please…. do not bother convincing me otherwise, and everywhere is off putting to me so do not take it personally.”

Nick: *sighs* I suppose there's nothing I can do to convince you... *sticks his hands in his pockets. Glad the robots haven't left their posts, yet* Careful out there...

Jasmine: (Nods slightly to avoid a headache) “Yeah….” (Walks a few dozen feet away, fully planning on running outside)

Nick: *Side eyeing her because he knows what she is planning*

Jasmine: (Talking to herself) “You will not even make it five feet outside without collapsing in pain, you will just end up back on square one hiding under a desk. Turn back, they only want to help you.” (Wandering aimlessly around because sense of direction is put off) “There is no danger, it is safe, no one is hurting you.” (Turning a corner) “You do not even know where you are going, you are not thinking straight, not even breathing or seeing correctly, oh God.” (Realizes she has no idea where she is at) “Uhhhh… shit….”

Nick: *watching her stumble around the second floor and the long waiting room/hallway*

Lucille: *winces and holds back a scream as she disconnects the wires that connect to the synth arm. It falls limply on ground with a clang. She looks at her eyes* The... the truly painful part is about to begin... *reaches for a spoon*

Jasmine: (Starting to panic) “Okay… uh…shit, come on you stupid bitch you navigated in worser conditions than this…..” (Starts running down the halls) “Ah, no, slow down you are gonna faint…. Just... call for help for once in your life.” (Looking around) “That is just great, the room is getting bigger and smaller at the same time. Okay… just find the exit and get out of here.” (Starts running again) “Nope… starting to see spots, stop running you idiot you are gonna fall.” (Grabbing onto the wall) “Ah-… should have told them about the cuts on my arms and legs… No! I am not a kid, I can take care of myself like I always have, I am fine…..” (Keeps stumbling forwards) “You can get out and you can hide, it can all be okay if you get your head straight. Shit…. I need a Jet…. No, That will make it worse. God, it is all a time loop, shoulda just let myself slip off permanently while I was on ice.” (Keeps walking)

Lucille: *lifts the spoon to her eye and stops. Again, she sees Nick for a moment* I can't keep hurting people trying to help them. That's not how we operate... better I be useless than a menace... *starts digging in, prying the robot eye from it's socket. More error messages flood her vision*

Nick: *looks alert suddenly and starts running in the direction of Lucille* What does that idiot think she's DOING?!

Jasmine: (Gets spooked by the sound of running and shouting and takes off in the opposite direction) “Oh my god… hide, hide, hide, get out, get out, get out.” (Gasping for air as more spots fill her vision)

The Robots: *still guarding the exit obediently*

Nick: *banging on the door Lucille put up* Lucille! I know what you're doing! If you think you're doing everyone a favor, then you'd be wrong!

Lucille: *really starts digging in*

Nick: *as he starts trying to break down the door with his shoulder* Don't do this! I gave you those parts for a reason!

Lucille: I don't deserve them! I've done nothing but hurt people lately! *pulling at the eye from the back*

Nick: That isn't true and you know it! *breaks in the door finally, running over and pulling her arm away from her eye, yanking the spoon out with it. He tears the spoon from her hands and tosses it aside before grabbing Lucille's face* Luce, look at me... can you still see? Can you still see in color? Can you move your left eye?

Lucille: *left eye bloodied by jamming a spoon into her eye socket. She sniffs and looks at her legs* I... I can still see... it's normal..

Nick: *notices the arm and sighs*

Jasmine: (Still running like hell despite the blinding pain in her head) “Okay okay okay….. where the hell is it?” (Finally finding the exit but seeing a bot guarding the door) “Fucking…. I do not have time for this.” (Approaching) “Move, now… please….”

It's the first exit in the Atrium... it's Edgar, the Sentry bot.

Edgar: *Negative beep*

Nick: Why do you think you don't deserve these old bones?

Lucille: I almost killed Jas...

Jasmine: (Getting in a defensive position and standing straight, ignoring the dizziness) (Shakily) “What do you plan on doing when I go around you?” (Moving around him)

Edgar: *angry beep, knocking her out with a light bump of his hammer*

Mills (a ghoul settler with a visor): I'll take it from here. The boss would hate it if her sister got hurt... *scoops Jas up and takes her to one of the blocked off track tunnels and lays her down on a bed and just sits outside the front door... waiting for his shift in literally putting himself in a stockade*

Nick: That's what this is about?!

Lucille: I promised myself I'd never take an innocent life as long as I had your arm and eye. Then I told Jas to take her own life...

Nick: ... I'll admit that was horrid and tactless, but don't go thinking those parts are conditional! I gave them to you because it was the right thing to do- because without them you'd be out an arm and an eye. *starts reattaching the arm*

Lucille: But-

Nick: We can talk about what happened later. I'm just glad I found ya before things got too messy...

Jasmine: (Laying there motionless) “Mmmhhfff.” (Slowly stirs awake, looking around) “………..” (Realizes she’s now in a strange room in a strange bed) “Motherfucker!!!” (Tries to get up but immediately topples over onto the floor) “Ow….shit.” (Standing back up with her waistband knife in her hand and making a beeline for the door)

(Note from @lucilleandherrobots: Ow. Yeah. There are train tracks in there by the way. Seriously needs a renovation)

Mills: *just sitting in a chair outside of the place. Literally hasn't done anything but drink a cup of Cola since he dropped her off in a bed*

Lucille: ... *looks away from him. Only winces when the wires connecting to her nerves are attached again*

Nick: There. Now see if you can lift your arm.

Lucille: *lifts it okay... it's a little off, though*

Nick: Mm... Needs to be calibrated a bit. Easiest fix is moving it up them out then back up again. *pantimiming the movement with his own "bad" arm even if it's newer than the one he used to have*

Lucille: *does that unceremoniously*

Nick: Alright. Now I'm going to need you to test your hand.

Lucille: Nick. I'm fine...

Nick: If you were, we wouldn't be in this mess...

Lucille: ... *tests each finger individually before wiggling the entire set like she's seen him do a thousand times*

Jasmine: (Looking around again for the exit, knife drawn out) “Oh God, that is the last time you let that happen to yourself.” (Tries to run off in a random direction but trips and falls like a toddler) “Ugh… goddammit! Just do something right for once today and stop flaring around like a useless child!!!” (Makes another break for the exit)

Mills: Hey, you okay...? *watches her get up... mutters* Well, guess she is.

Edgar: *immediately knocks the knife out of her hand when she gets close, then swings around and hits her a little harder than last time. Dissapointed beep*

Nick: Alright. *gets up and starts to walk away* Time to check on the real trouble maker between the two of you... *starts making his way to the Atrium*

Jasmine: (Laying on the floor for a few moments knocked out) “Ughhh, get up…. come on!” (Tries to reach for her last knife but can’t move her arm in the right direction) “You have gotten worse beatings than this, get up, stupid… bitch….” (Tries to stand up again despite being in obvious pain)

Mills: *keeping his distance* Why are you trying to run so badly...? *very confused ghoul*

Edgar: *conks her on the head again as soon as she stands*

Nick: It's complicated, Mills. *walks over to the Sentry bot and Jas* You done messing around?

Edgar: *doubtful beep*

Jasmine: “Hghnn…. No…” (Pitifully tries to stand back up and make a dive for the dropped knife)

Nick: *deftly kicks the knife into the air and catches it, pocketing it immediately* No. Sorry. *picks her up by her jacket* Back to the agency with you. *heel turns and tucks her under his arm like a bag of flour as he marches away from the exit*

Jasmine: (Shrieking like a toddler who just been picked up) “Put me down!” (Struggling harshly but slows down due to pounding headache) “Shit….ugh.” (Limply kicks at him)

Nick: You never learn... *not even fazed. Just keeps walking*

Mills: *blinks in confusion* I'm just going to stand in the stockade...

Jasmine: (Still kicking and screaming like a toddler) (Weakly) “Put… me… down…!”

Nick: *not responding. He's done trying to talk her into anything that will help her. If he has to be tough on her to get through to her, he will*

Jasmine: “Are you even listening? Put me down!!” (Kicking weakly again, losing more of her strength)

@lucilleandherrobots

[nad-zeta]

MOTONARI- Serendipity

Fandom- ikesen

Words-1100

EEEEEEP🍾🍾🍾🙈🎼happppy birthday to you🍾🍹happpy birthday to you🎼🎼🥁🥁 happy birthday dear neeeemooo🎼🎼🔥🔥🥁 happy birthday to you🍹🎼🍾🥁😍😳😳 hehehe@readerinsertfanfiction annd the bday bash continues 🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️🤩🤩😍😍☺️☺️🎂 letsssss goooooooo❤️❤️🎂🤩🤩🎂🎵🎵

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

"If i add perfume to my ankle maybe that damn mutt will stop mauling them as if they are the last bit of food on earth," you pondered rushing through the park gate to take a familiar shortcut to work. You were already beyond late, no thanks to your lack of self control on this particularly biting morning.

On your usual route through the markets you honest to god couldn't help yourself, not when that all too divine, all too chocolatey aroma tickled your senses. Nor when the shop owner announced that she had just taken a full tray of freshly baked croissants from the oven. Curse your weak will and curse croissants for adding to the waistline.

Neither the less you were rushing and dreading the pipsqueak pain in your ass, who you knew would be waiting at the office doors. "Perhaps tiger balm would be strong enough to deter-" the train came to a screeching halt all at once when your once clean crisp white silk shirt now seeped with the hot liquid.

"Foda-se! Watch where yer going!" The tall stranger barked out at you.

"You were the one that slammed into me'" you met the strangers tone head one, talking over him as you frantically searched your blazer pockets for a napkin, tissue, will to live, anything honestly that would get the stain out before your meeting.

"Better check those head flowers of yours. Yer sprouting such nonsense." He stood tall, with folded arms and domineering posture, completely and utterly unimpressed. But neither were you! Afterall he was the one that appeared like Hoodini

Despite the clear height imbalances you met the man's gaze head on. Fueled only by the morning's empty carbs and irritation you were ready to throw hands, when your colleague-

— bless her soul for having the best and worst timing— spotted you from across the park and pretty much sprinted to intervene. How she moved so quickly in those heels without breaking an ankle was completely beyond you, but she moved like a velociraptor across the terrain screeching at you with a gentle tugg. "Hey come on, you can chat with your handsome friend later, the meeting's about to start."

Handsome. HANDSOME. No man that refuses to acknowledge their wrong doings was handsome, no matter how smooth or attractive their voice.

"He is no friend of mine!" you announced loud enough so he could hear, sparing the silver haired stranger one more daggered glance before rushing into your morning meeting.

The next morning was as much of a whirlwind as the first. Curse your favourite coffee place for being so busy. With eyes glued to the phone screen while you endeavoured to type up a quick mail before stepping foot into the office. Some people truly had no boundaries, being bold enough to ruin your day before the sun was even fully above the horizon.

You didn't even know how it happened but all you know was, one moment your tea was balancing between chest and forearm and the next you were drenched, again, pulling the heated fabric from your skin and muttering an endless sea of swear words behind gritted teeth.

"Merda, look where-" the stranger's gruff words caught in his throat when eyes locked with yours and flashed with recognition, completely stilling in his movements. "Flower girl? If yer wanted an excuse to talk a man up yer just had to say so." You had not missed the way his grumpy scowl turned to smirk in an instant.

"As if! Don't go around flattering yourself." and before he could even dare to respond you trotted off to your first meeting of the day nose sharply in the air with no intentionof looking back. No doubt your colleague would take a jab at you for yet again entering the office with a stained shirt.

By the third run in you started to consider the possibility that you might have been cursed, although at least this run in was without spillage. So maybe only half curse?

Leaned up against the park railing— the tall dark brawny man stood, two paper cups beside him as he took a long drag from his cigarette. When your eyes met an unmistakable smirk befell his lips, much like the one you had caught a glimpse of the previous day. It spelled danger, mischief and warned not to get too close. But you were but a cat at heart and as the saying goes, curiosity saved the cat?, or was it killed? Either way you moved closer especially after he picked up one of the paper cups gesturing for you to take it. You didn't even have time to decide whether to accept the drink or not as Motonari simply pushed it into your hands.

You froze, mind silenced from tasks and to-do lists as you stared down at the cup in your hands.

It was littered with flower doodles and flower girl written in bold black ink, while his was littered in a school of nemo fish with Motonari written in bold and black.

"What's wrong m'lady, why yer standing there all slacked jawed? Cat got your tongue," he winked putting a small distance between the two of you before taking a sip of his own drink.

Soft whispers of the delicate osmanthus met your nose, bringing back memories of summer afternoons, pages slipping between fingertips and soft sounds of a distant wind chime.

"What is this?" your gaze finally shifted upwards to meet his. Despite the warmth filling your chest your words came out biting.

"I'd thought you would have pieced it together by now, but maybe you aren't quite as clever as I thought you were," he responded with a shit eating grin and tip of the chin.

You wanted to bite back with a scowl but no matter how hard you tried to school your features a wide smile broke free when you took your first sip, perhaps fate had a guiding hand in his drink selection because he had absolutely nailed it.

However the sweet and delicate drink did nothing to mask his rough brash demeanour," what ya grinning at? Creep," he leaned in closer, eyes shining with a childlike curiosity.

"The only creepy one here is you!" You responded with a pointed finger, smile fading away into irritation once more.

"Says the one who looked like she was about to gobble me up whole mere moments ago," the short burst of laughter left him as he turned on his heel.

Raising a nonchalant hand up in a single wave he shot you a final parting grin over his shoulder, "until next time flower girl."

And you wondered if fated hands would intervene again tomorrow.

[ckneal]

Now, I’ve been around fanfiction long enough to know that in any angel-turns-human AU story, there is one question that burns brighter than all the rest: What about their first sick day?

Well, I’ll tell you this: That first year after the rapture, out of the two of them, Adam is actually the first one to get sick. He picks up a really, truly nasty, slowburn of cold about a month after bringing Michael home. And, aware that he had just taken a huge chunk of time off (convincing Sam and Dean to help bring Michael out of the Empty was not an overnight task, nor teaching Jack how to make a new human body from scratch), Adam initially tried to smother the growing ailment with over-the-counter remedies and sheer willpower, while this bug steadily asserted dominance, laying waste to his sinuses, building up pressure inside his head, and settling into his chest and making itself heard in his throat. Three days in, his boss finally sent him home because everyone knew, even if he was refusing to say that he was sick. Michael, of course, was relieved to see Adam finally resign himself to bedrest, even though the entire situation is a sharp reminder of the fact that Michael is no longer a divine being, capable of healing with a touch. He feels all the more useless when Adam, well-meaning but also speaking through a haze of cold medicine and the beginnings of a fever, tells Michael he should keep his distance, because who knows how badly his cold would hit someone with virtually no antibodies.

Adam then passed out for the majority of the day, while Michael proceeded to mope in the living room, feeling like he’d been banished, pretending to have something to do but really just moving things around the room that were perfectly fine as they were before. He’d given up, gone online, and scrolled past the third post on his favorite Supernatural site that he normally would have jumped to correct on their misinterpretation of lore had he not been so preoccupied (never mind that he still hasn’t actually read his father’s books), before it struck him that he does know what to do in this situation.

Adam had shared a lot of memories in the cage, particularly during the years right after Lucifer’s departure, when they were first alone together and Michael was more guarded when it came to participating in conversation. Many of those memories had been from Adam’s childhood that he had deemed “harmless.” And as such, while Michael was new to the practice of being around sickness, Michael actually did know how to take care of someone. At least, he knew how Kate would have taken care of Adam. While never having met Kate Milligan, Michael was aware that she had been very young when she had Adam and that she had raised him alone, that she worked often, and that as Adam got older, it became increasingly difficult for her to take time off from work to care for him when he became ill. But she would do what she could in her off hours.

One of those things was preparing meals in advance that Adam could pick from as needed. Michael wasn’t overly acquainted with cooking at that point, but luckily, Kate hadn’t been either. She would buy premade items from the grocery store and alter them at home. Adam’s favorite had been half and half peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, which had been made by purchasing dough for both confections and simply meshing them together before baking. Oddly, the more difficult item to find was the soup. It was canned, but Kate had stuck to a specific brand, because it had been Adam’s favorite brand during a brief period of pickiness when he was eight. It didn’t appear to be as common in the city where Adam and Michael had settled as it had been in Minnesota during the 90s. Fortunately, Michael had stolen Adam’s phone before going shopping, and a stranger he came across in the greeting cards section at the drug store showed him how to use the map function to locate various stores nearby.

Adam managed to sleep through the racket that ensued from Michael coming home and fumbling his way through what, make no mistake, could only very loosely have been called cooking--Michael managing to unsettle a tower of stacked mixing bowls and burn himself on both the stovetop and interior of the oven--Adam only finally waking up when his nose cleared long enough for the smells to reach him. Michael was standing by, and Adam very quickly found himself being pushed onto his back when he opted to sit up.

“Michael? Get out of here, you’re going to get sick.”

“Not if you don’t breathe on me,” Michael said, quoting a memory from when Adam was nine that he knew wasn’t strictly true, but did not particularly care. He had a jar of Vicks Vaporub in hand and was pulling Adam’s shirt out of the way.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dinner. Hold still.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since a half hour ago, hold still.”

Despite twice repeating the instruction, it’s only when Michael straddles Adam that Adam actually lays still. He continues to press for details though, because Adam does recognize the aroma drifting in from the kitchen, and while he doesn’t particularly remember sharing those memories, he isn’t so much surprised that Michael does (Michael’s recall verges on obsessive), as he is by the fact that Michael actually did something with it. In the month since leaving Kansas, Michael only very rarely left their apartment, and never on his own.

Had it not been for the fact that he was determined to wait for Michael to decide when they would be back on those terms, Adam might have forgotten he was contagious and kissed Michael right then.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.”

Michael only looked up from Adam’s chest and noticed the way Adam was looking at him when Adam’s hand settled on top of his. That was, additionally, the moment when it struck Michael he was straddling Adam, and that the last time one of them had done that to the other, one of them hadn’t actually been physically real, and that they hadn’t done what they’d been doing then in a fairly long time. Of course, it hadn’t seemed strange to him to get into this position a second ago, as, in terms of Michael’s projections, they had done a lot more than kiss, and their relationship with one another hadn’t changed at its core since, but in terms of Michael being a physically present being in a body of his own, they hadn’t actually. . .

“Michael?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“I’m pretty sure I smell smoke.”

And then all at once, Michael was scrambling off the bed, the moment hastily pushed aside in his rush to save the cookies (which were burnt, but a benefit of Kate’s “recipe” was that there was plenty of dough leftover for new batches). By the time that Michael came back, Adam had remembered that he was a breathing germ farm and subsequently put his bedroom eyes away, and Michael suggested they relocate to the couch and watch the obnoxious devil show that Adam liked (Lucifer) while they ate.

Of course, despite Adam’s gradually flagging efforts to keep Michael at a distance for the sake of his health, Michael wound up catching the cold and would spend the next two weeks buried under every blanket they owned while Adam returned the favor of taking care of him. Because Adam was right, he had no antibodies, of course he was going to get sick.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Peaceful Dawn

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

It wasn’t the usual brother he shared breakfast with, but breakfast wasn’t normally cookies, either.

I have been awake entirely too many hours, and distracted by so many different things today, but I finally got something short down for fluffember/fluff&fun day six, sunrise and delicious cookies.  One of the advantages of my current job is that I get to watch the sun rise, and today’s was particularly striking, so that was definitely in my mind as I wrote this.

Scott liked to rise before the dawn, partially so that he didn’t feel like he was wasting part of his day, but also because there was something beautiful about watching the first rays of light strike the sky.  The possible colours varied, from warm blues to fiery reds and blazing oranges, and with the varying levels and types of clouds on every day, no two sunrises were ever the same.

Sunrise was also peaceful. With most of his family still asleep, there was little to disturb him as he stood in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for when he came back from his run.  Gordon was usually the only brother to join him, and while the blond could be a menace most of the time, sunrise was sacred, and both of them had their own routines.

Today, he was joined by a different brother.  Gordon had been out well into the early hours on a rescue, so he and Virgil had only got home an hour earlier and were both well and truly conked out in bed, where they would stay for several more hours.  It was hardly the first time that had happened, and Scott had fully expected to have the sunrise to himself, as normally happened whenever Gordon was out late.

He had not expected to come down into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas because without Gordon around, his routine shifted a little and he let himself have just a little more time to enjoy the sunrise before pulling on running clothes and sneakers, to be confronted with the scent of baking.

Proper baking.

The smell was nostalgic; the mixture of chocolate and cinnamon had been one of Mom’s favourite cookie recipes, and Scott had come home from school more than once to the aroma lingering in the air.  He’d also helped make them a few times, although as proven when he attempted to make them after the avalanche, helping was not the same as being able to do it.

Only one of them had inherited Mom’s ability to make those particular baked goods just right, and it was the last brother Scott had expected to find in the kitchen when he got up that morning.

“Did you even sleep?” he asked as he padded into the room quietly out of habit, stretching away the last stiffness of sleep as he did so.

John shrugged. Combined with the fact that he had clearly been down long enough to change from his uniform to his civvies, that was enough of an answer, and Scott sighed.

“You’d better not burn yourself.”

He should probably be chivvying John to bed, having been given the rare opportunity to be in a position to do so, but the baking cookies smelt divine and Scott knew well enough that John wouldn’t leave the kitchen until they were done.

John scoffed as though he thought Scott’s concern was ridiculous.  Considering his disposition for clumsiness post re-entry, Scott thought it was well-founded.  The last thing he needed was his brother tripping and burning himself.

“Keep up that attitude and you don’t get cookies for breakfast,” the ginger told him.  Scott could point out that cookies weren’t a healthy breakfast, but also he really loved Mom’s cookies, and John would definitely take that as an invitation to make sure he didn’t get a single crumb.

Besides, treats were good on occasion, especially of the homemade, edible, variety.

Scott slid into one of the bar stools and leaned back against the table, half an eye on the first rays of dawn outside while the rest of him watched John patiently waiting by the oven for the timer to tick down to zero.

It probably wouldn’t be long before the early morning tranquillity was shattered by a stampede of Tracys – good home-baked food was rare and there would be no prisoners taken once the aroma reached the bedrooms to disturb the rest of their still-sleeping family – but for the moment it was nice and quiet, the sky was as gorgeous as ever in the light of day, and there were promised, tasty, cookies in the imminent future.

All in all, it was a good start to the day.

[wrenhyperfixates]

How the God Stole Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki despises Christmas, and after watching the Grinch, he decides there’s only one thing to do about it. But you just might melt his cold heart. Warnings: zip, zilch, zero A/N:  So this is my little spoof of the original and best Grinch, starring Loki. Hope you all enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Red and green everywhere, the same songs playing in every single store, silly little decorations in every nook and cranny. Yup, it was official. Loki hated Christmas. He couldn’t even place his finger on why, exactly; he just did. So, naturally, this was his least favorite time of year. Sadly, none of his teammates seemed to share that sentiment.

Loki walked into the common room only to hear the same carol that was playing in the last shop he’d visited. He gritted his teeth against the sound of his brother signing along. The Tower was just as heavily decorated as the rest of the city. If there was a Christmas-field version of something, you could bet one of the Avengers had bought it. And if they hadn’t, it was just a matter of time.

At least the sweets constantly being baked weren’t entirely despicable. Though, admittedly, even his notorious sweet tooth was getting a little sick of them. Right now, he could smell the aroma of gingerbread wafting from the oven. It made him consider skipping the cup of tea he was currently on his way to get, but he knew he needed it if he had any chance of calming down. He was glad he’d decided to go to the kitchen after all when he saw you were the one baking, flour smeared on your apron and face in an adorable mess.

The poor God of Mischief was still rather isolated from everyone else. He was trying, but by the time any of the Avengers had gotten over his past wrongdoings, he was sour towards all of them. It was hard to want to be friends with people who spent the first six months of his living in the Tower scorning him. It was also hard to call a place like that home. There had been one shining beacon of beautiful light during those early days: you.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, heating up the water for his cup. “Those cookies smell divine.”

“Oh! Hi Loki,” you exclaimed, turning around, not having heard him enter. “And thanks. Do you want to help us decorate?”

“That depends on who exactly ‘us’ is.”

“The whole team.” He made a small hum of acknowledgement and blew on his scalding drink. You frowned a little, knowing full well that he distanced himself because of how they used to treat him. But you also knew they wanted to change things, they just weren’t entirely sure how. “It could be a great bonding opportunity. Plus, I’ll be there, obviously, but so will Peter and Bucky. Doesn’t it sound fun?”

Besides you, the trickster god found some companionship in the two aforementioned Avengers. They’d come after Loki had, and Peter’s endless optimism had won him over. As for Bucky, he had gone through much the same that Loki had, their common pasts bonding them quickly. Unfortunately, all his friends loved this despicable holiday.

“Perhaps another time,” he finally replied. “Next year.”

“Ok,” you sighed. “You’ll at least watch movies with us tonight, right?”

“I do not know. Perhaps it would be better if I did not.”

“Please,” you pouted. “Come on, it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll even save a special cookie for you.”

“Your persistence is as relentless as it is adorable,” he laughed. “I will come, but just for a movie or two. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed. “You won’t regret it. Oh! And, Loki, come here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. It surprised him, to say the least. He still wasn’t entirely used to such signs of affection, but they were welcome, especially from you. However, he never was quite sure how to respond. After a second, he somewhat awkwardly wrapped his arms around you to return the hug.

“What was that for?” he questioned as you pulled back.

“You just seemed like you needed one,” you shrugged.

The joy that that gave him lasted all the way into the evening when it was time for him to join you for a movie, as promised. He’d put it off as long as he could, even considering just skipping and saying he’d fallen asleep. That would upset you, though, and you were the one person he hated to lie to. So, he made his way to the common room where a new movie was just starting. You scooted over a little on the couch so he could squeeze in between you and Peter. Bucky was sitting on the floor close by, and Loki had no doubt you’d specifically requested they be in those positions so he felt more comfortable. He was greeted with a few polite—dare he say, borderline friendly—nods and waves from a few of his other teammates. And, of course, an overly enthusiastic pat on the back from his brother as he passed.

“Loki! Glad you could make it,” you whispered as he plopped down next to you.

“Well, a deal is a deal, darling.”

“That reminds me, here’s your cookie.”

The little gingerbread man you handed him was decorated to look like him in his Asgardian battle armor. It was a wonderful likeness, all things considered. He smiled as he took a bite of the baked good. He tried to let go of all hate for the season as he relished this moment with you, but it was still lingering there.

“It is delicious, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

You quieted down as the movie began and the opening credits played. Loki was already losing interest, and then the title appeared. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. A most intriguing title, he mused. Now that his interest was peaked, he watched with rapt attention as the animated film began. That grumpy, green fellow was possibly the best protagonist in any movie he’d been made to watch yet. He certainly had the right idea about Christmas. And those tiny little voices would have annoyed Loki to no end. It really was no different than what he was going through now, he realized. He thought it rather rude to call the Grinch “mean” though. It seemed to Loki he was just misunderstood.  

As he watched the Grinch load up all the wreathes and toys into his sleigh, Loki was struck with an idea. Why should he not be able to do the same thing? Ok, maybe he couldn’t get away with stealing from the whole city, but what about the Tower? It was his home, too, and no one had asked him how he felt about all this stuff.

Now that he had a master plan blossoming in his head, he didn’t much care to see the end of the movie. He’d gotten everything he needed out of it. So, he went up to get a refill on his drink. By the time he go back, it was over.

“You missed the ending,” Peter said. “Do you want us to go back?”

“No, it is fine. I thought it was perfect just the way it was.”

“But all you saw was him stealing Christmas?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. In fact, I could use your help.”

Before Peter could ask with what, everyone was getting up and leaving the room, ready to call it a night. You fretted over the fact that he’d only gotten to see one movie, but he assured you it was alright. The matter wasn’t dropped until he promised to watch at least one more tomorrow, too. It didn’t make much difference to him though, considering that after he was through with the Tower, he was sure no one would be much in the mood for Christmas movies, anyway.

“You’re planning something,” Bucky said before exiting.

“Maybe. Are you looking to assist?”

“Probably not. But good luck.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight, Loki,” Peter said as he tried to hurry off after Bucky.

“Spiderling, may I enlist your help?” Loki asked.

“I, uh, yeah, I guess. What are friends for?”

“Excellent!” Loki exclaimed as the rest of the Avengers finished filing out.

The more he explained the plan, the more nervous Peter became. It did give Loki a bit of a pause, but oh, it sounded like great fun! For weeks on end now, he’d been suffering through this horrid season. It was just a little payback to the universe. That was fair, right? Maybe, but it was not fair to force his friend to help him.

“Listen, spiderling, if you do not wish to help, you do not have to,” Loki said.

“This is going to make you happy, right? Like, is this going to make your Christmas?”

“Quite honestly, I think it will.”

Peter considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of this situation. “Ok, I’ll help. On one condition. We leave everyone’s rooms as they are. We’ll just clean out the common areas.”

“That is quite reasonable. Thank you, spiderling.”

The duo got to work, stuffing all the little decorations in their sacks. Peter insisted that if they were going to do this, they had to do it right, and fetched a reindeer antler headband for himself and a Santa hat for Loki. While it was on the one hand entirely ridiculous, it did give Loki a bit of a laugh at the implication of it. Him as the Grinch and Peter as Max, his reluctant but loyal ally. The thought made him smile a little.

Everything was going great until they got to the first of the many large trees in the Tower. Loki stood there with a cocked head, tapping his chin. Sure, he could try to do it like the Grinch had, but life wasn’t a cartoon. So, no, that would pose more of a problem than a solution. Besides, Loki had something the Grinch didn’t. Magic. Carefully working his seiðr, the god shrunk down the first pine, ornaments and all, and put it in one of the bags.

A little while later, he was getting ready to do the same thing to one of the last remaining trees. Then you came stumbling out into the room. Peter did a little panicked dance before slinging a web and sticking himself to the ceiling. Loki walked up to you and laid his hands on your shoulder, trying to determine how conscious you actually were.

“Loki?” you asked, rubbing your eyes, your voice a little slurred from sleep. “What’re you doing? Where’re all the decorations?”

“You tell me. It is your dream,” he quickly lied.

“My dream,” you parroted spotting the filled sack on the ground near his feet “So is this because we watched the Grinch? Does that make me Cindy Lou Who?”

“I suppose it does, darling,” he laughed. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Are you going to put everything thing back, Loki Claus?”

This time the chuckle came from Peter, who was watching the whole thing play out from his vantage point. You were too out of it to notice, though. Instead, you kept looking at Loki with those adorable doe eyes.

“I... Perhaps. Let us just get you back to your room right now, ok?”

You nodded, and he picked up your tired body, using his godly strength to carry you bridal style and lay you down amongst your many blankets and pillows. You gently tugged him down onto the mattress with you, and he remained there for a moment, not exactly sure of what was happening.

“Do you need to talk?” you questioned, cupping his cheeks and seeming a bit more awake than you a had a second ago. “I know things are hard, but we all do really care for you. I really care for you. And I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I will be alright, darling. Just get a good night’s sleep for me, hmm?”

“Ok,” you sighed as he got up. “Night, Loki.”

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered as he leaned over to give your head a small kiss.

He walked back out to his partner in crime, who was anxiously awaiting him. Loki let out a huff. He knew what the right thing to do now was.

“So?” Peter asked.

“Let’s put it all back,” Loki conceded.

And so they did. It took most of the night, but they got every last knickknack and ornament into place. Then Loki did something he never imagined he would; he added even more. His magic made the garlands a little bit fuller, the lights a little bit brighter, and the trees a little bit taller. More little statues and winter scenes appeared on nearly every surface possible. Finally, he nearly doubled the number of gifts under the tree, adding his own to the mix. He gave a satisfied little nod when he was done, then looked at Peter who was beaming at him.

“What is it?” Loki inquired, though he knew the answer deep down.

“Oh, nothing. This was fun, though. We should do this every year,” Peter yawned as they worked their way to their rooms to catch a couple hours of sleep.

“Maybe we will, spiderling. Maybe we will.”

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

Loki woke up the next morning slightly more cheerful than he had in months. Ironic, considering today was actually Christmas, the culmination of the season he hated so much. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed and stretching out, Loki realized maybe he really was like the Grinch, and the only reason he disliked it so much was because he was so alone. And, like the Grinch, maybe he wasn’t appreciating those he did have enough. Maybe it was time to come out of his mountain cave and live amongst the people in town.

He eyed his Santa hat from last night, hanging from a bedpost. He picked it up and put it on his head, laughing a little in the mirror. He tugged on a deep green cable-knit sweater before he remembered the rest of the team’s plan to wear ugly sweaters today. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him exactly, but he conjured one up for himself. It was a little ridiculous, but he supposed that was the whole point.

Heading out into the hall, he realized everything was dead silent. Loki wondered for a second if maybe you all had decided to go out for breakfast this morning. He sighed, but he couldn’t really hold it against any of you if you hadn’t invited him. He never said yes on a normal day, and he’d made it a point just how much he disliked Christmas. Regardless, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!”

He nearly pulled out a dagger as everyone suddenly jumped out in front of him and shouted those words. Once his heart rate slowed back down to normal, he smiled despite himself. That’s when he noticed plates piled high with his favorite foods and realized you’d all must have gotten up early to do this for him.

“Merry Christmas, everyone. What is all this?”

“We just wanted to do something for you, Loki,” you explained. “Oh! And we got you a gift. Here.”

You handed him a small package wrapped in green and gold. It must have been convenient that his colors were also colors for the holiday. He laughed a little to himself, wondering how he hadn’t noticed before. He tore into the wrapping paper to find a small planner. You nodded at him, urging him on as he gave you a quizzical look. It had a bunch of events written in it, as well as which members of the team were attending.

“See, we know you don’t always come to our team events,” Bucky told him, “but we know you might want to start.”

“We have not always been the most... accepting,” Thor added. “Now, though, we want you to be able to come to any and everything you want to.”

“So we wrote it all down for you,” Peter finished. “This way, you know when things are and can just join whenever you feel like it.”

“Do you like it?” you nervously asked, biting your lip.

“Darling, it’s perfect,” he sincerely told you, tears of gratitude welling in his eyes. “Thank you. All of you.”

He was met with a chorus of “you’re welcomes” and “anytimes” as the room was filled with even more smiles. Soon, everyone dug into the feast that had been prepared, and the rest of the day was filled with merriment and laughter. Loki was surprised to see there were even more gifts for him resting under the tree. By the time it was dark out, the team was settling in to watch a few final Christmas movies for the season. Loki didn’t think he’d be taking any ideas from them tonight.

“Darling,” he said as the two of you were alone, grabbing movie snacks in the kitchen. “May I ask you why you all did what you did for me?”

“It’s like we said, Loki. We all do care about you, and we want you to be able to do stuff with us. They know you’re not a bad guy, you’ve more than proven that. For a long time they just weren’t exactly sure how to bridge the gap. But you’re a part of the team, and we want you to feel like it.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“It’s no problem, Loki. Plus, you really did go all out with these extra decorations.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he blushed.

“Oh?” you said, walking up to him so that you bodies were nearly pressed together. “You don’t now, huh Loki Claus?”

Of course you hadn’t bought his lie last night. He laughed a little to himself now for thinking you had. But Loki realized something else, too. What you’d done last night, what you’d said, you’d fully known what you were doing. The way you’d pulled him onto the bed and held his face, told him how you cared. You knew it was real.

“Darling,” he said. “I think I do need to talk, after all.”

“I’m listening. What is it?”

“I love you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he reciprocated immediately, smiling against your lips. Now he was wondering if he was dreaming. But no, just like last night, this was real.

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” you said, catching your breath, “I love you too.”

Hand in hand, you went to join the rest of the team. So maybe Loki’s heart didn’t literally grow three sizes that day, but there was one more comparison to be drawn. Because, you see, in finding his place, Loki realized that Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

[anjuschiffer]

Blessed Flower [Brought Us Together]

You know what I haven’t written yet? GARMARI!

Also, sorry it took his long to write this QQ

---

45. I can’t imagine this world without you

48. Why are you crying?

---

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak​ @damianette-is-life​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @elijahcrevan​ @vixen-uchiha​ @nathleigh 

---

AO3

Today was the day.

After months of sweat, blood and tears, Garfield had finally done it. He found the answer to his desire...he had cured Tara’s illness, so why?

Why did he dread this walk through the forest today? Why did his feet feel heavier with each step he took, as he got closer to the cabin he used to look forward to?

Why did he hesitate to continue down the ever so familiar path? A path he has walked down plenty of times before, both during the rain and through snow. So why? Why was he doubting himself? Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Garfield stopped, looking up towards the forest canopy, tiny beams of sunlight making its way through the dense layer of leaves.

The twilight’s breeze rustled the spring leaves, calming Garfield’s uneasiness a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Garfield recomposed himself before continuing his journey down the dirt path most of the people in his village often avoided.

“It’s cursed.” They would say.

“Those who enter often never return.” They used to warn him.

“No one dares to enter La Feerie’s Garden, even if the Blessed Flower is in it. You rather remain alive than face Lutin for her flowers.”

But despite their warnings, Garfield still went into the forest in search of the magical flower, having found it around a year ago. But upon reaching the one spot in the forest where the magical flowers bloomed, Garfield met her.

“How dare you pick ma petite fille?” A voice growled, Garfield stiffening as his hand hovered over the white flower, listening as footsteps drew near. 

He didn’t dare turn around in fear of seeing what was to possibly kill him. “Who are you and why are you-”

“I need them to help cure my friend’s illness!” Garfield blurted out, keeping his head lowered as he pulled his hand back to himself. 

Well, Tara wasn’t exactly his friend...more like the neighbor he didn’t have the guts to tell her that he liked her...but even then, he couldn’t just do nothing as he saw her dying before his eyes. “She’s been suffering from pain in her muscles and her cuts are starting to heal slowly. I heard that this flower-”

“Ah, so you’ve heard about the Blessed Flower.” The voice said monotonously, Garfield noticing that the voice was now in front of him. Bare feet were now in his vision, Garfield noticing that they looked human.

Slowly looking up, he was met with soft bluebell eyes. “And do you know how to administer it, human? Or do you plan on killing your friend?”

Garfield froze under her gaze, carefully choosing his next words. Was she not a human then? She can’t be one if she addressed him as ‘human.’

“I don’t. But I would gladly do anything to learn how to use it if it means saving my friend.” Garfield remained silent as he awaited for the girl to say something back. “Just teach me and then when she’s cured, we don’t have to see each other again. I’ll even give you permission to erase my memories if you think that’s a fair trade.”

He didn’t expect her to sputter into laughter, folding into herself as Garfield felt his body tense despite being confused by her response. 

“You’re an odd one, I’ll tell you that. Odd, but honest.” The girl finally said after composing herself. 

She stretched out her hand, Garfield looking at it before accepting it. The two stood up together, the girl smiling at Garfield despite his clear confusion. “I am Marinette, guardian witch of Edel Forest. You, what is your name?”

“Garfield Logan.” He responded. “My name is Garfield Logan. So please, Guardian, teach me how to save my friend.”

“Then follow me.” She commanded, Garfield watching as a small cottage materialized before their eyes. Or rather, came out of hiding.

As Garfield followed her into her cottage, he was met with the aroma of freshly baked bread and a hiss. He followed the sound, finding out it came from above him. A black cat with its back arched and fur sponging up was the one who greeted him with a hiss. His green eyes bore through him, the cat watching Garfield’s every move. “Don’t mind Chaton. He’s been overprotective of me ever since...do you like pie? I just finished making one!”  

Garfield simply nodded, but couldn’t help but notice the trembling of her hands as she moved around her cottage, watching as she fumbled to look for extra eating utensils.

Just how long has it been since she had anyone over that she couldn’t find another plate? 

Apparently a long time, Marinette having to resort to using a tracking spell to help her find one, causing Garfield to watch in utter awe as a plate levitated from its place and made its way to Marinette.

Meanwhile, Chaton continued to monitor him, his green eyes never once leaving Garfield out of his sight.

--

Over the course of the year, Marinette taught Garfield how to harvest the Divine, showing him which Blessed Flowers were used depending on the illness or the injury.

She taught him how to plant, care and harvest the plant. She even told him the importance of talking to the plants and how they enjoyed the extra attention. After all, it helps to enhance their healing capabilities. 

Sometimes when they were out in the field, the two would find ladybugs flying about. Garfield would tease Marinette whenever various would sit on her, Marinette whining to him that it wasn’t funny.

She taught him how to measure and procure the different medications that could come from the magical plant, Garfield absorbing everything with wonder and amazement. Who knew that the magical plant could also help with toothaches!

“Yarrow. That is its actual name.” Marinette clarified at one point when Garfield was busy packaging some yarrow into his bag to take back to the village. 

They had finished grinding up some dried yarrow and packaging them for tea. They even had a few made into pastes. “To be honest I don’t know why people call it the Blessed Flower,” she said as she unraveled her braided midnight hair.

Garfield watched as she carefully took out the red ribbon that held up her long hair, wondering why she has never done so before. It was pretty, very pretty.

“Perhaps because it can help with so many trivial things that inflict us.” Garfield provided, slinging the bag across his body, opening the door to leave. He watched as Marinette looked at him with panic, her eyes having dilated a bit before going back to normal. “I’ll be back again tomorrow, at the same time.” 

He watched as Marinette relaxed, her shoulders lowering from their tense form. 

“Have a safe trip.” She said, waving as he closed the door behind him before stopping.

“You should have your hair down more often. It’s pretty.” Garfield said, closing the door behind him and headed to the village. With each step he took, he felt his cheeks burn even more.

Why did he even say that?

--

Marinette hummed as she placed down a pot of chamomile tea on the table, gasping with glee as she remembered it's been a few minutes since she checked on her apple pie.

She skipped to her oven and carefully took the pie out, smiling at how well it came out.

She placed the pie down, liking that for once in her life, her table was cle-

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time her kitchen table wasn’t filled with books for herbs? That she had actually used it to have food on it?

Because she never once had to use it for a guest before. She had always just baked with her magic, pots, pans and ingredients floating midair as she recited recipes from her childhood. 

When was the last time she was excited to even have someone over?

The door creaked out, Marinette smiling as she saw Garfield walk in.

“Gar! Welcome back!” She greeted, making sure to not rush up to him. 

“Hey Mari.” Garfield said with a weak smile. A hiss was heard nearby. “Hello to you too, Chaton.” Even though it’s been months since their first encounter, Chaton was still hostile towards Garfield. 

“Want to have some pie?” Marinette went back to the table, lifting it up to show him. “I just finished-”

“Tara’s cured.” Garfield blurted out, watching as the apple pie splattered down to the table. “Mari, I-”

“That’s wonderful news!” Marinette celebrated, clapping her hands together before letting out a gasp. “Oh no! The pie!”

She quickly began to try and put the crumbled pie back into the pan, but it kept spilling out.

“Mari-”

“Can you believe it Gar? We actually cured Tara!”

“Marinette. Are you okay?” Garfield managed to say, reaching to grab her hand, only for Marinette to pull it back to herself as she picked up the wasted apple pie.

“Of course I am! Your wish came true, so why wouldn’t I be-”

“So why are you crying then?” Garfield softly asked, watching as she silently cried. They glistened as they ran down her face and onto her hands. “Mari,” he softly said, not knowing what to say.

“It’s goodbye...isn’t it?” She asked, setting the pan down. “Now that you got what you wanted, there isn’t any other reason for you to keep coming here. You got me to help you cure your friend.” She let out a dry laugh. “There isn’t any other reason for you to stay here.” 

“Mari. I still plan on coming here.”

“Coming here? What for? You already cured Tara- oh...oh!” Marinette exclaimed, a giggle escaping her. Then a dry laugh erupted.

“Marinette?”

“You’re just like them.” Marinette whispered. “You come to me, use me and then plan to continue to use me.”

“Marinette, let me-”

“You plan to continue to come here on behalf of your village, aren’t you? Act like it’s for your village’s benefit but end up using me for your own gain, right? That’s your plan, isn’t it, Garfield?”

“What? No! I would-” Garfield denied, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“To think I feel for this again!” Marinette yelled, Garfield watching as her red ribbon flew and began to ravel her hair into a bun. Black dots began to blossom onto the ribbon as a red aura began to emit around Marinette’s hands. 

“Marinette, please. Just listen-”

“That’s what they said. To listen to them. To help them carry out a plan that would only benefit themselves and few others, but not everyone...but not this time.” Chaton appeared out of nowhere, now perched on a wooden beam above Marinette. His fur was on edge and his eyes gleamed a nasty jade. “I won’t let you use me again. I won’t let you!” Marinette yelled, dashing for Garfield, who did nothing but remain frozen as she tackled him to the ground.

Garfield struggled to break free from her magic binding, but his wrists were bound to the floor in plant vines. 

“Marinette, please!”

“Silence!” Marinette bellowed. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should’ve just sent you off like I did to all those who came before you! 

But how naive I was. To think that the Council was wrong all this time, only to see that they were actually right.” Her eyes glew a dangerous red. “You humans never change.”

Garfield watched as Marinette placed her hands on his head, a soft glow emitting from them.

“If you think this is for the best...then go ahead. Erase my memories...just like we promised when we first met.” Garfield softly said, looking straight back at Marinette. “Do it if it gives you peace of mind.”

He watched as something flashed across her eyes, watching as she hesitated to continue.

Marinette pursed her lips, shutting her eyes close before getting off of Garfield. A shuddering breath left her.

“What am I doing?” Marinette warbled, watching her hands begin to tremble. The glow surrounding her hands began to dim down, extinguishing. She hid her face with her hands, feeling her tears begin to trail down her face. “Just what-” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, I shouldn’t be- just what the hell-”

“Marinette.” Garfield softly said, watching as the vines disappeared from around his wrists, allowing him to sit next to Marinette. “I’m alright...it’s alright.”

“Alright? How is this alright?” Marinette gestured to herself. “I almost erased your memories and was on the verge of killing you! How is that alright?” She yelled, a sob escaping her. “How can you just-”

Garfield pulled her into an embrace, startling Marinette.

“Because I know you, Marinette.” Garfield said, tightening his embrace. “And even if you did erase my memories, my heart would remember the year we spent together.”

He felt as Marinette trembled against him.  “It will never forget, I know it won’t. After all, you mean so much to me.” He listened as she began to sob. “So even if you har-”

“Don’t ever let me do that to you. I’ll die before I ever dare to harm you, Garfield.” She whispered, gently pushing away from him to look at him. “Because...because I can’t imagine this world without you...I can’t live without you!”  Marinette confessed, looking at Garfield with fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

“Ever since we met, I no longer felt alone. I was no longer alone once you stepped into my home. I was looking forward to seeing you everyday, to chatting, learning together and just being with each other. I enjoyed it...I love spending time with you being with you.”

Garfield let Marinette recompose herself, allowed her to wipe away her tears. He didn’t know when, but at one point, Chaton came to the both of them, sitting in her lap. “I don’t want you to go. To leave me alone…”

“If...if you head let me talk, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. But even so, this is all my fault.” Garfield admitted. “I shouldn't have let you jump to conclusions like that by not saying what I need to say first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I should’ve told you the better news first before the good news.”

“The...better news?” Marinette asked.

“I want to live here. With you.” Garfield said with a smile, grabbing her hand. “I, too, realized that I like being with you.”

Marinette looked at him with wide eyes, a faint pink on her cheeks.

“Do-Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” Garfield said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I really do.”

Marinette let out a small gasp, causing Garfield to lift his head to look at her. She smiled back at him and cupped his face.

They both erupted into laughter, pressing their foreheads together. Fingers intertwined as they sat together in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fireplace keeping them company. 

They didn’t need anything more to be happy.

Just the two of them. 

Just each other.

That was enough for them.

[iridescent-hallucinations]

A freshly baked love story

December prompt day 7:  Baking sweet treats

Summary:  JJ and Emily spend a quiet evening in together

Pairing: Jennifer “JJ” Jareau x Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 1755

Read it on AO3

One dreary Thursday evening in December, on a rare day off without the kids, Emily and JJ found themselves enjoying a quiet night in. Both of them had worked a long week, only coming back from a particularly gruelling case the night before. Sandy had offered to keep the boys for an extra night to allow the two agents to recuperate and spend some much needed quality time together.

Deciding on ordering food rather than cooking, the two had spent the last hour eating in silence, engrossed in the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off, a guilty pleasure of theirs. As the episode drew to a close JJ raised her head from its resting place on Emily’s chest and gently sat up, ignoring the quiet aches coming from her worn out muscles. Emily unhooked her arm from behind JJ’s back, giving her room to sit up more fully.

Grumbling at the loss of contact, Emily turned to face JJ - a raised eyebrow questioning why they weren’t still cuddling.

“I have an idea,” JJ began, drawing out the words so they came out as a melody, “let’s try baking some Christmas cookies of our own”. Her eyes lit up at the idea, as she brought her bottom lip between her teeth to bite down gently in anticipation of a response, and despite Emily being less than enthusiastic at the suggestion, who was she to argue with her wife when she looked so damn adorable?

Emily rolled her eyes, but JJ could see the smile tugging at the corner of her lips,  threatening to give her away.

"Alright, I suppose we can do that. Do we have all the ingredients?” Emily asked, grabbing her phone off the coffee table. JJ was already half way to the kitchen, clearly more than a little excited.

“Yeah, we should do, it sounds pretty easy... and if it goes well we can decorate them with the boys tomorrow” JJ replied to the other woman over her shoulder, remembering most of the recipe from the show they’d just been watching.

Emily read out the list of ingredients whilst simultaneously pulling out baking trays and mixing bowls.

After messing around in the cupboards, JJ finally stepped back from the counter top, clearly pleased with her efforts.

“There, that’s everything we need” she said, turning round to see where her wife was, eagerly awaiting her assistance.

“Great, you get the dough started, I’ll prep the baking tray” Emily stated, allowing herself to smile brightly at the sight of JJ enthusiastically smashing a bar of cooking chocolate.

Less than 15 minutes later, the two had prepared a pretty decent looking sheet of cookie dough. They didn’t have any cookie cutters to hand, but Emily had a stroke of genius, running into the kitchen with Michael’s Play Doh cutters held proudly above her head.

“We can use these! There’s not a Christmas tree shape, but we could make little cookie people with the silhouette cutters... and there’s a star!” Forgetting her lack of enthusiasm, Emily was clearly very excited, and JJ couldn’t help but laugh at the brunette’s exclamations.

“Great idea babe” JJ replied, beginning to make light work of cutting the shapes into the rolled out dough.

Eventually, on the tray were two cookie women shapes, 2 cookie men shapes - to represent their little family - a scattering of stars, and enough dough to make one or two more shapes.

Emily fumbled around with the little plastic cutters, searching for the right one. JJ watched her with curiosity, unsure as to what her wife intended to do with the remaining dough.

“Aha!” Emily exclaimed, holding the red heart shaped cutter she’d  been searching for.

She cut two heart shapes into the dough and placed them alongside the rest of the unbaked cookies that were ready to take their nap in the oven.

“There.” Emily began, closing the oven on their sweet treats. “In about 15 minutes we’re gonna have the best cookies you’ve ever tasted” she stated, matter of factly.

Grinning at the brunette, JJ swayed over to her, wrapping her arms around the older woman’s hips, pulling them flush to her own.

Pressing a sound kiss to Emily’s lips, she couldn’t help it when a soft moan slipped out. Feeling strong arms come to rest at the back of her neck, JJ took a moment to just appreciate where they were. How far they’d come.

Breaking apart, JJ turned to start washing up, leaving a mildly flustered, but thoroughly happy Emily to watch as she walked over to the sink. Unable to help herself, the older woman reached out for her phone, snapping a quick photo of the blonde, who was minding her own business at the sink.

JJ often heard Emily taking photos of her, she didn’t entirely understand why her wife enjoyed taking photos of her in such mundane situations, but it did cause her stomach to clench knowing Emily felt these silly little moments were worth documenting.

Feeling arms snake around her waist, JJ was pulled from her thoughts, grounded in the reality that was Emily’s warmth. As she continued to wash the mixing bowl, the brunette began peppering her neck and shoulders with light, lazy kisses. The sensation was beautiful, totally intoxicating, causing JJ’s head to lull backwards, falling onto Emily’s shoulder and allowing her further access to her neck, collar bones and shoulders.

Washing up forgotten, JJ suddenly longed to look into her wife’s deep brown eyes. Turning in her arms, she sighed contentedly, feeling so safe, so grounded in her lover’s embrace. Leaning in to close the gap between them, JJ gently kissed Emily’s lips, she still, after all these years, couldn’t get over the way her lips tingled when they connected with Emily’s.

The kisses didn’t stop, each woman unable to get enough of the sensations created as they stood, pressed against the sink, making out like horny teenager. Just as the older woman’s arms came to pull JJ’s hips closer, intensifying the kiss, and eliciting a hungry moan from the blonde, a shrill noise startled them.

Leaning back, Emily brushed her nose against JJ’s, letting her eyelids flutter shut so she could compose herself.

“Looks like our cookies are done,” Emily whispered against JJ’s face.

JJ groaned at the loss of contact as Emily peeled herself away to put their Christmas themed oven gloves, the ones that had little reindeers all over them, on.

The oven door opened, immediately allowing the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies to escape and flood the air of the kitchen. It smelled divine, and both women basked for a moment in their domesticated glory.

Emily gently placed the tray on the kitchen counter, smiling down at their little Christmas creations. The cookie people had sort of warped in the oven, but they had a certain charm to them and Emily knew when Henry and Michael decorated them, they’d look perfect.

The stars had worked really well, each one a beautiful golden brown with five points all totally distinguishable despite their plastic cutters. JJ admired their work with her hands on her hips and her head tilted to the side.

“What d’ya think? They look pretty good to me.” Emily said, tilting her head to match JJ’s.

“I just hope they taste as good as they look... and smell... Em, I know we just ate but they’re making me hungry.” JJ answered, with a pretend frown.

Emily laughed, gently touching a cookie to test the temperature. Once she knew they weren’t going to burn her fingers, she began carefully transferring the various shapes onto the wire cooling wrack, knowing the cookies had to cool completely to set their shapes. Something she learnt from great British Bake Off judge Paul Hollywood.

As she continued to pick up each cookie, taking great care, Emily couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. It spurred her on, and before she knew it she was in the midst of a giggle fit.

“What’s so funny?” JJ asked, unable to stop herself from catching Emily’s giggles, it was contagious.

“I was just thinking about how it’s good our cookies don’t have soggy bottoms, you know, the judges on the Great British Bake Off judges would be proud of us” she managed between laughs.

“You don’t have a soggy bottom either babe” JJ laughed, enjoying their shared inside joke.

“Neither do you, your bottom is beautiful,” the older woman added, taking a jagged breath to calm her laughter down.

The final cookie was placed next to its siblings on the tray, and the women shared a knowing glance. Emily picked up one of the heart shaped cookies and held it out to her wife.

“Wanna take the first bite?” She offered, moving closer so JJ could take the treat from her hand.

JJ nodded in response, leaning forwards to tentatively bite into the warm cookie, not bothering to remove it from her wife’s hand.

It was still soft in the centre, and JJ moaned out her approval as she stood, chewing on the delicious goodness they’d created together.

“Yeah, they’re good,” she offered with her mouth still full.

Emily took a bite of her own, also making approving noises. She had never really baked before, no one had ever taught her how, but with JJ she was able to do so many things she’d never done before, she was able to grow as a person and live a life she never would have dared to dream of in her younger years.

“Just as I suspected, the best Christmas cookie I’ve ever tried, I can’t wait for the boys to come home so we can decorate them together.” Emily said, with an honest to god smile plastered over her face.

Putting the half eaten cookie down, Emily once again drew JJ into her embrace by pulling her hips towards her own.

“I love you Jayje. So much.”

“I love you too Em, so much.”

They shared a simple kiss. Simple in the way it felt so right, so natural, simple in the way it held promises of forever.  

As they separated, Emily reached up to caress JJ’s cheek, watching her blue eyes reflect the depth of their commitment back into her own brown ones.

“I know something that would taste better than cookies right now” Emily said, lowering her voice and waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Slapping her wife’s arm and gasping with feigned disgust, JJ laughed before replying, “well I did say I was getting hungry again...”

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Dirty Dancing ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Request: Please I'd like a Ke smut fic where he arrives home while Reader is listening music and doing a sexy dance (she wears a beautiful dress) and stares at her watching her dance moves, she notices him and they end up making love  -Anon

Warnings: Smut

Words: 1.6k

A/N: Yiiikes I’ve neglected my requests for too long and I’m super sorry about that! I’ll be working on the two remaining in the upcoming weeks. Also, I added another anon’s request for neck kisses on here too. Hope you enjoy!

Shutting off the car’s engine, the sheer exhaustion from shooting long, grueling hours for the last three months was finally catching up to Keanu. Though his body desperately craved hours of fitful sleep, he chose to ignore it and prepared himself to see you instead.

In a state of utter weariness, he managed to drive across the city during rush hour just to have dinner with you tonight. He had missed you dearly throughout the entire time he was away and could no longer bear being apart from you, the most precious person in the world who ultimately held his heart.

Arriving at your house a half an hour early, Keanu wanted to surprise you. With a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bottle of your favorite red tucked securely under his arm, he quietly let himself in through the front door using the spare key you had given him.

From the foyer, he could already smell the enticing aroma of food wafting in the air. Stomach grumbling, he padded down the hall leading to the kitchen where the sound of music grew louder with his approach. Keanu’s lips quirked into a delighted smile as he rounded the corner, and his eyes widened at the surprising sight of you dancing to the lively beat.

For now, he decided to stay hidden in the shadows, his mind rapt at the way your hips sashayed to the seductive song blasting in the background. Donning a sexy, figure-hugging red dress which he hadn’t seen you wear previously, Keanu couldn’t tear his gaze away as the deep bass thudded through the walls. Still unaware of his presence, you exuded utter confidence with every rhythmic sway and dip of your alluring body, the sensual scene sending jolts of arousal through him.

Breath hitched in his throat, Keanu could feel his trousers tightening when he noticed the skirt of your dress had ridden up a little higher on your thighs, exposing more of your soft and supple skin. All he could think of at that very second was ripping your clothes off and taking you right then and there. Three months without having you had made him very impatient and very desperate.

Eyes devouring every inch of your beauty, Keanu thought about how dinner would surely be off the table for the next hour. He had forgotten how tired and hungry he was, a surge of energy and desire taking over as a result of watching your enticing show. Presently, his burning need inside was reserved for you and you only.

“Holy shit!” you gasped after you finally glanced over to where Keanu was and caught him standing there, an irrepressible smirk flashing across his face. “God, Ke. You scared me.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he chuckled lowly while sauntering into the kitchen, placing the items he brought on the table.

Lowering the volume of the music, you then smiled at him once he reached you. “You’re here early. The chicken is still in the oven cooking.”

“I wanted to surprise my best girl,” Keanu replied, leaning down briefly to peck your lips. His hands slowly ran down the side of your body before settling on your hips. “Is this dress new?”

“I got it this morning,” you answered sweetly. “You like it?”

Keanu nodded, mouth ghosting down your neck. His breath tickled your skin as you released a soft moan when he pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hardness between his legs. “I love it, and seeing the way you dance in it? That was very hot and entertaining as you can tell.”

“How much did you see?” You questioned, slipping your palms under Keanu’s shirt and noticing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Most of it. You’re a damn good dancer, baby. An incredibly sexy one, too.”

“Perhaps I should give you a private show next time,” you suggested with a sly wink, fingers rising to tangle themselves in his hair. You tugged on them the slightest bit, just enough to elicit a reaction from him.

Abruptly, Keanu then smoothly lifted you up in his arms, placing you on the cold, granite countertop of the kitchen island. He stood in between your spread legs, leaning down and trailing moist kisses along your jaw and collarbone. His hand began to hike your dress up, revealing your laced panties to him as his mouth moved to that sensitive spot behind your ear.

Keanu’s breath was warm and ragged on your skin as he whispered, “Definitely next time. Right now, I’m going to show you how much I enjoyed that little show of yours.”

Lips locked in a deep, fervent kiss, Keanu wasted no time touching you wherever he pleased. Hearing your hum of approval, his long digits skimmed up your inner thigh agonizingly, swallowing the airy moans escaping your throat. You cried out the moment he pulled your underwear to the side and slid his fingers inside your dripping cunt, your wet walls instantly squeezing around them with a vice-like grip.

It had been far too long.

Pulling back, Keanu’s dark, lust-blown eyes held your half-lidded gaze as he pushed in his dexterous digits until he was knuckle-deep before drawing them out almost teasingly, causing you to whine and writhe underneath him uncontrollably. Eventually, he gained speed, alternating between finger-fucking and stroking your clit as you quickly came apart with his hand alone.

Your eyes were clamped shut, chest heaving unsteadily as Keanu retracted his thick fingers from your core. Smiling, he licked the slick essence coating his fingers, its divine taste both tangy and sweet on his tongue, a flavor that was uniquely and delectably yours. Still lost in your post-orgasmic haze, he deftly unzipped the back of your dress, allowing him to easily remove it from your limp body.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in the bare sight of you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m a lucky man knowing that you are all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathlessly added. “Please, Ke...”

Peeling off his shirt, Keanu stepped back, and then asked huskily, “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“You…” you sighed, watching as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants along with his boxers down, freeing his hard, pulsing cock. “I need you, Ke. I need you inside me.”

Giving himself a few languid pumps with one hand, Keanu swiftly slid your panties down your legs using the other and tossed it somewhere in the room. Sitting up, your hands gripped the edge of the counter, waiting in anticipation as he guided his tip to your heat. Slowly, he sheathed his cock inside of your pussy, and immediately it stretched to accommodate his girth.

As he bottomed out, you placed delicate kisses down the column of his neck, and he nearly purred at the sensation. No matter how many times you and Keanu made love, he surely could never get enough of you. He would cherish each moment of it, whether it would be rough and fast or sweet and slow. What he most cared about was simply you and making sure you felt loved and adored with every fiber of his being.

You lied back down on the counter as Keanu hovered over you, his hips beginning a delicious rhythm that had you mewling in seconds. He knew the two of you wouldn’t last long, not when this was your first time together in months. Soft grunts filled your ears as he thrust in and out of you, his control gradually slipping the more you whimpered out his name.

“P-Please, Ke,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his back as he lowered his lips to yours. The pleasure was becoming too overwhelming, leaving you unable to form a coherent word, but Keanu knew precisely what you needed.

“I-I’m close, baby,” he warned, his movements faltering as the tightly-wound up coil in his stomach began to unravel much like yours. “Come with me. Go ahead, let go. Let go for me.”

With a shuddering breath, you shook in pure ecstasy while you came around Keanu’s cock. You managed to keep your eyes open long enough to watch him reach his own high, his face contorting with bliss as he released hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you. Satiated, Keanu slumped forward, carefully not to crush you as you both tried to regain your senses.  

After some time had passed, he gently withdrew his softening cock from you before grabbing paper towels to clean yourselves up. Keanu then helped you hop down from the counter, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a passionate kiss once your feet touched the tile floors. You only broke away when the oven timer suddenly dinged behind him, reminding you of the dinner you were prepping before his arrival.

“Chicken’s ready,” you mumbled against his lips. “Are you still hungry?”

“Starving,” Keanu laughed before reaching down and retrieving your discarded red dress from the ground. “You should probably hang this up for later.”

“Later?” Your brows rose in curiosity. “You want me to wear it again later?”

“Yes,” he stated, dipping down to kiss you breathlessly again. “You did promise me a private show, and I want to see you dance with this on again.”

“What if I danced with nothing on?” You proposed with a teasing tone. “How would you like that instead?”

Nodding, Keanu’s lips curved upwards, already feeling himself harden by the mere thought of it. “I’m really glad to be back home.”

“Me too,” you agreed before stepping in to close the distance, your lips connecting one more time.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​

[tact-and-impulse]

Holiday fic for @shepherds-of-haven! Thanks for the deadline extension. I hope I’m not too late! More under the cut or on AO3.

midwinter depths

It all started with an innocent conversation, Lavinet asking what they were planning to wear for the Wintersun Gala. The confused, collective answer was: what gala? After some back-and-forth, it became apparent that the Diminished-majority members of the newest government agency had not been invited to the illustrious holiday celebration. The reactions were varied, but they eventually came to one conclusion. Couldn’t they host a competing, more inclusive, and most importantly, better party? Certainly not as fancy, but in terms of community outreach, it would be far superior.

Responsibilities were dealt, and by dawn, the Shepherds set out to prepare.

***

The bus was late. Croelle adjusted his hat and clenched his teeth. Another inconvenience, just the latest obstacle to his work. The shelter’s glass panes looked very fragile and tempting at the moment, but ultimately, he didn’t move from his current seat on the metal bench.

A tall woman approached the bus stop, ashen hair pulled into a high ponytail to reveal slightly pointed ears. Her hazel eyes glinted with the iladrin, and one hand carried a bag of groceries. She checked her wristwatch, which sparkled with miniscule gems, and stopped at the other end of the bench. A strong wintry gust blew past, rattling the shelter. Heavy silence descended upon them.

“If you’re waiting for the bus, you might as well walk to your destination.” He intoned.

“Excuse me?” Her polished voice was more amused than affronted.

“It’s been twenty minutes. I hope you don’t have anywhere urgent to be.”

“And why are you still here?” She retorted.

He lifted the brim of his hat, to look at her again. Pale brows, an aquiline nose, a thin mouth colored by dark mauve lipstick. Handsome, he supposed. “Are you a Shepherd?” He had dragged his line of sight away from her face to the embroidered hound on her coat.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Dragged into it, really. Speaking of which...” She handed him a blue and silver flyer, detailing games, raffles, and a potluck dinner. “We’re hosting a party tonight at our headquarters. Ten danars admission, though I’m not sure whether it’ll be enforced. It’s mostly for the rest of the Shepherds, and their friends and families.”

“Is that what your bag is for?” He turned his attention to her purchased items.

“Oh, I don’t cook for groups. But I was assigned to buy ingredients for punch and I’m very good at making vytas.” She rummaged through a variety of fruits, before removing a jar of honey and admiring the color in the weak morning light. “I’m picky about my ingredients. No alcohol though, to be palatable for Mages like us.”

“I’m not a Mage. And I don’t eat fruit.”

She tilted her head, stepping in his direction. He flinched, as her gaze ran over him in obvious scrutiny. “How are you still alive?”

This close, he was able to see her hair clip. Three birds in flight, carved out of lacquered wood. He evaded her question. “For the same reasons anyone else is.”

She didn’t respond to that, still analyzing and trying to puzzle him out. Definitely, this Mage was a strange one. He hadn’t heard of any such figure in the Shepherds, but he could always use his resources to find out. She pivoted away from him, putting her jar back. “So, are you going to attend?”

“I have work. Why? I’m not your friend or family. Are you desperate for my company?”

“No.” She easily replied. He refused to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I only want to make sure that my effort pays off.”

“You hate holidays, don’t you?”

Her slight smile became brittle. “Do you only ask questions and never answer them?”

A short, derisive laugh escaped him. “Part of the job.” Wait, what was he doing? Conversing, letting down his guard, still sitting here instead of headed to his next assignment. He might have suspected she was an Enchanter if it weren’t for the wristwatch. The pearly face bore the symbol of the Shifters, the points and curls in fine etching.

“And what is your job?”

“You’re a nosy woman.”

“I prefer ‘curious’.”

“There’s such a thing as being too curious for your own good.”

“I’m not particularly interested in being good.”

He grabbed her slender hand, and she emitted a startled noise as he pulled her towards him. He lowered his voice, speaking into one tapered ear. “Interested in being bad then?”

She was perfectly still for a moment, her pulse rapid under his fingertips, and then, she roughly pulled away. Her eyes locked him in a deadpan stare. “That’s another question, and for this one, I’ll follow your example and decline to answer.”

“Hmph.” Determinedly looking past her form, he spotted a van turning the corner, the Shepherds’ emblem on the hood to mark its status as a government vehicle. “There’s your ride.”

She followed his line of sight and blinked. “Oh. So it is. Would you like to come along? The driver’s my kin, and he won’t mind.”

“I’d rather not.” He scowled, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodbye.”

“Well, if your work allows it, feel free to stop by tonight’s dinner. I don’t have to remind you to try the vytas.” She pointedly lifted her bag and then laid a hand upon her lapels. “You can ask for me, Zoegea. And you are…?”

He grunted. “Croelle.” And with that, he walked away before the van arrived. Minutes later, he wondered how he could be so foolish to tell her his name. Just for that, he had to pry more information out of her. He crumpled the flyer in his pocket but it stayed there.

***

The smell of baking bread was one of the best things in the world. Trouble knelt down, to peer into the oven. The rolls were puffy and golden-brown, nearly ready to eat. There was something nostalgic about waiting and watching, like he was five again and his mother was cooking in their tiny kitchen.

A rustle of movement caught his attention and he met bright amber eyes as his partner mirrored his position. “Hey, so the mashed potatoes should be done soon. What’s next?”

“We should be good for now. Thanks, Senna.” He grinned.

“No problem! So, what’re you doing?”

“Just checking on the rolls. Best part of being on the team in charge of side dishes.” It was always enjoyable to mold the balls of dough in his floured hands. He splayed his fingers over the warm glass. “It takes me back to when I was a kid. My mum made her own bread.” Right now, the yeasty aroma of the dinner rolls was just like the one that permeated the cozy apartment of his childhood.

“So did mine!” She eagerly shared the similarity. “Not that the Westwood bakery’s was bad, but I always liked hers best.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel!”

She rocked back on her heels, her tanned face flushed. “I actually remember my mom’s recipe, so I bake now and then. It’s not exactly the same though.”

“But it’s something. I couldn’t read before my own died.” His memory of her was vague. She had pinned her hair when washing other people’s clothes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair had been blond like his, but her eyes were a warm brown. Her voice was sweet though it was harder to recall now. Her scent was the easiest: clean linen and a touch of spiced apples. Other than that, he didn’t even have a photograph. “Wish I knew how she did it.”

“Maybe, we can figure it out. Or at least, get pretty close.” She suggested. “We can bake multiple batches and narrow it down from there, based on what you tell me.”

“Trial and error, huh?” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that! When should we start?”

“Probably sometime in the new year. When are you available?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll find the time. Just text me and I’ll be there. Do you have my number?”

“Yup, I saved it when you recruited me.” She flashed a thumbs-up. “I’ve just never had to text you before, because I keep running into you.”

“Hey now, you’re the Diviner.” He joked. “You’re not using magic to find out which bar I go to?”

“Trouble, you always go to The Burning Crown.”

“It’s the free drink Nessa gives me every time. Actually, I think I should probably switch it up. Too many fights break out in there, and uh, I’m trying to follow your advice.” If she hadn’t stopped him, his old gang would have been too glad to bring him down to their level. That wasn’t what a Shepherd did, and having her near was a good reminder.

“That’s great!” Her smile was wide and honest. “I know it’s hard, but I’m really happy you’re trying. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do it, I believe in you.”

He coughed, as an excuse to stop staring. “Well, you’ve shown me that talking out of a brawl is an option.” Then, he winced. “Ah, shit, I gotta stand up again. My legs are killing me.” He stood, his thighs burning, and offered a hand to her. She grasped it, and as soon as she was upright again, she quickly squeezed.

“I don’t think I’ve had a Wintersun like this before. Today’s been so much fun.”

“Me too. It’s always fun spending time with you.”

She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he felt suspended in place. Then, with a sudden draft, Riel stepped in, carrying a clipboard.

“Are we on schedule?”

Trouble noticed she had let go, and he crossed his arms, pressing his empty hand against his body. “For sure, we are. Even though we won’t be serving until six tonight, we’ll be ready by then.”

“Parties usually start late, anyway.” Senna added, with a sparkle in her eyes.

Riel pinched the bridge of his nose. “And guests arrive early. Regardless, if you need anything from the supply team, tell me before five so I can accommodate you accordingly.”

“Understood!” A whistling ringtone began to play, and she removed her phone from her apron pocket. “Oh, good. I was waiting for them to call back. Sorry, this will be just a few minutes. But if not, I’ll see you later. And I’ll text you about our meeting, Trouble!”

“Looking forward to it!” He replied as she sprinted out.

Riel’s cool gaze shifted between Trouble and the swinging door. “A meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bake bread together. Isn’t that nice? She’s a great friend.” In response, he gave such a long sigh, that Trouble demanded. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Never mind.” He was already walking away.

“Oi! Just tell me!”

***

The knife moved easily in his grasp, as he sliced the parsnips. If the rest of his family could witness what he was doing, they’d be delivering the full brunt of their disapproval. Before today, he also thought he was better suited to security detail, but he had been convinced to join the rest of his friends. His squad insisted they’d be fine, Trouble had extolled the benefits, and a particular pair of deep brown eyes had been disappointed as the owner asked. “Are you not going to cook with us?”

Thus, here he was, preparing roasted vegetables for an impromptu party.

His partner for this task had her own tray, and she carefully sprinkled garlic salt over the halves of looked like miniature cabbages. When he brought over the parsnips, she glanced up at him. “Oh, you’re already done? Thank you, Blade!”

He stiffly nodded. “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, I’m okay. These are ready, so I’ll put them in the oven. You can get a drink.” A quick smile, and she was off to the adjacent kitchen. The storage room wasn’t as warm, and soundlessly, he crept out. He returned before she did, with two water bottles retrieved from the cooler in the hallway.

Wintersun was just another day, or at least, that was what he believed before. Now, far from the place of his upbringing, he was often out of his comfort zone. However, he didn’t mind learning more about the world, outside of the family business. And today had been very pleasant.

When Captain Enris walked past, he held out the extra bottle, nudging it against her hand.

She blinked. “Is this for me?”

“Yes.” He raised his brows. “Take it. You haven’t been hydrating.”

“It slipped my mind.” She admitted but accepted the water. From under her sleeve, her tattoo peeked out, the inky scrawl of Kettish script unconventional but poetic. She removed the lid and drank deeply; her mouth was red and gleaming.

He abruptly dropped his gaze. “You have the tendency to put yourself last. It’s not sustainable, so you should remember to look after yourself as well.”

Her laughter rang out, clear and crisp. “Ultan said something like that, a long time ago.”

She had never mentioned the name before. He tensed, the plastic bottle crackling in his grip. “Who’s Ultan?”

“He owned a little bookshop in Courtshore. I worked for him, after Drummond’s Point was…wiped out. It was my longest job, about two years, and I really enjoyed it. He, um, found some old magic books for me; that’s how I started learning magic.”

“He must have liked you.”

She hummed, considering the possibility. “I think so. He was a Norm but his late wife was a hedgewitch, so he always kept me safe. If anyone was suspicious, he said I was his granddaughter sent to live with him. I’m not sure if they really bought it though…”

He was a tiny bit happier that the connection was familial, although he was unsure how to feel, being compared to someone who was like her grandfather. He decided on tentative compliance. “Would you have stayed with him?”

“I don’t know. He fired me, you see.”

“What? Why would he? You’re…a good worker.” Damn, that sounded utterly inadequate. As if two words could describe how important her presence had become to the Shepherds.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” She smiled. “But what he thought is still a mystery. He just gave me the week’s wages and told me I wasn’t welcome anymore. So, I just kept moving, and I never heard from him again.”

His anger on her behalf lingered but he kept his response neutral. “It’s his loss and our gain. I’m glad you’re here in Haven. It would not be the same without you.”

He was certainly not as eloquent as she was, but he hoped the Enchanter was more at ease. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and she rested her back against the wall. “That’s kind of you to say.” Fondness colored her expression.

“Does it surprise you?”

She laughed again, and he welcomed the sound. “No, not at all! You’ve always been kind. Strict, but you truly care. You’ve never led us astray, despite how you’re not a big fan of Wintersun.”

“Was I obvious?”

“Compared to everyone else, just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I noticed you’re not frowning as much. Are you having fun?”

“I’ll take the quiet now, before the crowds arrive.” He wryly answered.

“It’s close enough!” She set her half-empty bottle down and clapped. “Let’s finish seasoning the rest. I was thinking of having lunch afterwards; how about you?”

He deliberately paused. “That sounds agreeable. Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Tallys mentioned a sandwich shop the other day. I can call ahead for pick-up.” She was already pivoting.

“Linaria.”

At the rare use of her given name, she immediately turned, lips parted.

“Let me see the menu first.” He grumbled.

With another giggle, she offered her phone. “The next thing we should work on is your pickiness.”

***

The free chair was inviting, and Chase took it, sliding over to the other person at the raffle table. “Hey, sunshine. How’s the sprain?”

“Better today, but not enough.” The newly incapacitated Battle-Mage scowled reproachfully at her left foot. “So I’m still stuck here.”

“You wanted to cook?”

“Even if I could, that’d be better than tearing up tickets.” She snorted. Her fingers pulled at the paper chain, twisting at the perforated end and depositing a fresh one in his open hand. She kept the other half, flicking it into a large glass jar. Valeriana had let her hair down, which was a first. Wine red and pin straight, it framed her face and grazed her elbows. She seemed more vulnerable, her features relaxed and youthful. He idly wondered who else had seen her like this. She must have sensed his regard, because her gaze shifted to him. “Did you need something else?”

“Nope, just hanging here and watching the rest of the hospitality team. Mostly, it’s Lavinet though.” The heiress had taken charge over the decorating business and she was ordering some of the newbies around to meet her standards. Embroidered white tablecloths, silver streamers, tea lights, and authentic pine trees for ambience. It all sounded magnificently meticulous, and he was trying to avoid her, just in case. “My side’s done with the party games.”

“Yeah? What have you got?”

“Elements, dreadnoughts, pin the tail on the ahfuri for the kids. We dug up some sui boards for the older folk. Anyone with spare change can play intrigue or Angels and Devils. And darts. Bet you’d like that.” As strong as she was, he knew she valued precision most of all. It was also what he liked about her, that she could run rampant on their missions given half a chance but opted for control.

He was interested in what she was like, if she lost it.

She leaned back in her seat, the motion steering him to the present again, and cracked a smile. “That depends on what prizes you have.”

“Ah, and like with all games, your prize is based on your stakes. Anything from chocolate truffles to plushy Shepherd hound toys to gift cards. Or I can always surprise you.”

“The bar is high.” She raised her brows but her eyes glittered at the prospect. Good.

“I’ll do my best, gorgeous. So...what has our dear organization obtained for the raffle prize?”

“You’ll have to win and find out for yourself.”

“Fair enough. Let’s hope this is a lucky one.” With a flourish, he brought the ticket to his lips in a light kiss and pocketed it. Then, he gestured towards the fall of her hair. “No bun or braids today?”

One hand tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “I want less tension for now, I’ll tie it back later.”

“Gotcha.” In the meantime, he’d appreciate the view.

“Caine asked me the same thing too.” The kid was eager to help out, and at the other end of the hall, he was stringing icy blue lights on one of the smaller trees. “He said it was nice.”

“He’s right, it suits you. You look lovely.” And he meant it, not even winking.

She held his gaze, about to bite back, but she paused. The moment stretched, before she quietly replied. “Thanks.”

His skin itched and he rubbed the back of his neck. Huh. She was attractive, it was hard not to notice since the day they met. It was only that she was a lot more so, because of how intimate her appearance was. It was lust, he decided, and he could deal with lust. Yeah.

“Well,” Chase cleared his throat and ruffled her hair. To his pleasant surprise, it was very soft. “I’m off to check on my people. Keep getting stronger, sunshine.”

“Uh…right.” Her dark eyes were wide, and he couldn’t look away.

“I’ll bring you a plate of food at dinner, and then, we can swing by the darts. Sound good?”

“Sure, I guess, mm.” She didn’t blush easily, but she was clearly flustered, blinking rapidly and tripping over her words. Cute. Her long eyelashes fluttered and he was transfixed.

Then, there was a clatter, and they both whipped towards the sound. Caine had dropped a third of his lights. Wincing, he called out. “Sorry!”

“Are you hurt?” Valeriana asked.

“No, I’m okay! How’re you?” He was giving them a trepidatious expression.

Oh. Chase was still touching her head. Slowly, he let go and forced a two-fingered salute. “We’re fine here! You’re doing good, little man!”

“I’ll see if I can help him out.” She muttered.

“You don’t have to, I’ll send a couple of my guys to check on him. Get some rest before tonight, alright?”

She didn’t seem fully appeased but she grabbed her ticket chain and reluctantly nodded, echoing. “See you tonight.”

“It’s a date. Later, Valia.”

If she protested at her shortened name, he didn’t hear it. He strolled along, starting to whistle. After making sure no one else was around, he glanced down at his hand and grinned.

***

The pressure cooker must have disappeared into an adjacent plane of existence. Red sighed as he closed the latest cupboard. “Nope, not here either.”

“Seriously?!” Alcea popped her head up, from behind the counter. Her golden curls bounced, her gray eyes brimming with dismay. “Damn it, where else could it possibly be?”

“At this point, I’m wondering if we should go to the nearest mall and buy another one.”

“Yeah, but we just bought this last week! Riel would throw a fit if we went back. Anyway, it should still be in the box!” She dove again and he smiled, leaning over the granite.

“Or we could always just do it the old-fashioned way. There are plenty of pots that no one else is using.”

“I guess we can.” She grouched. “It’d just be easier to make vegetable curry when we don’t have to be watching the stove the entire time.” She pulled away from the clutter of miscellaneous cooking utensils, and agonizingly rose to her feet. “Augh, my back!”

“Are you alright?” He rushed around to help, but she shook her head.

“Only out of shape, but I’m alive.”

“Good, because I still need you.” He grinned, hiding his relief. “Who else is going to taste test?”

“Uh, nobody, because that’s my job for today? A privilege of being on the entrée team.”

“Just one?”

“One of many.” She smirked. “But I’m not giving up on our missing item! I’ll send a text to the group chat.” She dug out her phone and her thumbs flew across the screen, her charm bracelet jangling with its trio of silver birds. As they walked through the corridors, he kept a close eye, ensuring she wasn’t bumping into anything.

Their allotted kitchen space was looking rather colorful. Onions, garlic, ginger, cauliflower, peas, cans of coconut milk. Jars of spices were lined up on one end, their labels in large print. And in the midst of the ingredients, an open book waited, displaying the pages of the recipe.

He rolled up his sleeves. “So, we’re making two batches: mild and spicy.”

“Yup. Oh! Should we ask Mimir for input on the latter?”

“If she ever shows, and doesn’t she have a high tolerance? Like, she inhales what would kill everyone else?”

“Right…maybe not.”

“It was a nice thought.” He squeezed her shoulder. Years ago in Capra, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario.

They hadn’t been close then; they shared mutual friends, but he was only aware of her as ‘the other Conjurer who was always in the stacks late at night’. Conversely, she knew him as ‘the guy who tried to descend the university into Hael itself’, but mercifully, she didn’t blame him at all. In fact, the first thing she asked upon their formal introduction was how he did it. The rest was history. The Shepherds had inherited a massive library from a Mage, and on their coinciding off days, the two of them claimed a study room and filled a whiteboard with spell runes and equations. She was bright and vivacious and daring; his younger self had made ignorant mistakes, and now, he could add overlooking her to the list.

After plenty of scrambling and bitten-off curses, some of which were Elvish, their main dish was bubbling. She ladled a spoonful, blew, and sampled. Her eyes shut as she broadly smiled.

“That good, huh?”

“Don’t take my word for it. Come on, try for yourself!” She grabbed a new spoon, taking from the top. Holding the steaming mixture to his mouth, she ordered. “Open wide!”

He chuckled. “Sharing a privilege?” However, he accepted. It was delicious, fragrant with coconut and bold with delayed heat. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any left.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Nope, it’s a second to see you eat something I helped make.”

“I hope your expectations were met.”

“Exceeded, for the entire morning actually. I love working with you.” She was incredibly close, her cheeks rosy. He tilted his head-

“Hello?” A timid voice called, and they both spun around to see Shery, standing at the threshold. Her hands shook as she lifted a large, familiar box. “Um…I saw your text to the group. Were you looking for this?”

“That’s it! Thank you sooo much, Shery!” Alcea bounded forward, relieving the other blond of the pressure cooker. “Where did you find it?”

“On our side.” She pushed the nose bridge of her glasses. “It was behind one of the trash cans.”

“We really appreciate it.” Red smiled. “We’ll save a bowl for you later. Mild, of course.”

She seemed very reassured. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll hold some fairy bread for you two. See you soon.” Just as silently as she arrived, she hurried off.

He peered at the box. “I’ve never used a pressure cooker before. Have you?”

“Not for curry.” She conceded, lowering it to the floor for unpacking. “But here, let me show you the basics!”

Settling in for the explanation, he watched her animated face with pleasure. This was a privilege he would claim for himself.

***

The van slowed to a stop for the red light, so Ayla propped her feet up on the dashboard. “Think a lot of people are going to show up?” They’d been traversing Haven for a second round, buying additional supplies and plastering the last of the flyers.

“It’s cheap food and entertainment. So, probably a fair amount.” Her companion answered, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. His green gaze didn’t move from the road. “Are you inviting anyone?”

“Who would I invite? You’ve been in Haven longer than I have.”

He huffed. “Sure, I have a head start of six months, but I’ve been away on missions. Some of them were with you.”

“As if I could forget.” The light changed, and the van continued on its path.

She had hoarded every piece of information she learned about him. He was an Elementalist like her, but his skillset was well-rounded, with a preference for ice. The tattoo under his collarbone was of three birds, belonging to a species with a distinctive call, which his clan had taken for their own name as well. That song had not been heard in decades though, and he always shut down when it came to the fate of Vale. He couldn’t join the military because he was Diminished, so he had been a mercenary for a number of years. He liked his khav strong and bitter, and his toast just this side of burnt. Alright, the last bit was extraneous, but it wasn’t like she wanted to make him breakfast or anything.

“Hey, E.”

“Yeah?” He responded in kind.

“What’s eggnog taste like?”

“Did they not have any in the desert?”

“It has raw eggs, right?” She glanced behind her, to the milk jugs and egg cartons they had purchased. The other bags had remained stationary, teeming with chocolate, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream cans. “It would spoil in the heat.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile. “True. Did you ever have custard?”

“Something like that, a milk and rice pudding my parents gave me once.” She remembered the little bowl in her hands, how she licked the spoon clean. Her mother and father, grinning as they watched her try the dessert for the first time.

“It’s similar, but more drinkable. You add cinnamon or nutmeg, and sometimes, alcohol. If you don’t like it, you can just stick to the cocoa.”

“I’ll try both.” She countered. “Do you add spices to the cocoa too?”

“Some people do. I like mine with cinnamon and a pinch of chili powder.” Interesting. Another thing she learned.

The car in front suddenly braked, and she swore. The van lurched, Erigeron’s solid arm bracing over her front. As they halted, way too close to be comfortable, his other fist slammed the horn. Up ahead, a couple scurried across the road. Noticeably, there was no pedestrian crossing.

“Tourists.” She scoffed.

“Too busy looking around them to care about anyone else.” He was still touching her, and he slowly pulled away, studying her face. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” Her pulse was elevated from the near hit. The intensity of his stare made her shift in her seat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He twisted around to examine the back, grimacing. “Hope nothing’s broken.”

“That would really suck.”

They started moving again, and she glanced at the speedometer. He must have caught her wary expression, because his rough baritone added. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”

Damn, that was really smooth. She fixed her gaze out the window, trying to think of icicles and snowstorms.

It was a matter of minutes before they parked at headquarters. As soon as he removed the key from ignition, a familiar figure entered the garage.

“Oh, wonderful. I was just about to call you, darlings.” Lavinet tossed her hair and marched out to meet them. “Have you procured what’s left on our list?”

“Sure did.” He grunted and removed his seatbelt. “Check for yourself before we bring them in.”

“No need, I trust you two.”

Unloading was going to take longer than expected; they would need multiple trips. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be leaking. Ayla took a few bags, but he stopped her from grabbing the next.

“You can go inside first.”

“I can take more.”

He firmly clasped her shoulder. “Nah, just come back. Everything will be here, and you must be cold.”

She was, but she nudged his side. “Hurry up, won’t you? Elementalists can still get sick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nevertheless, he smirked. Stupid, sexy, silver-haired Mage.

Lavinet held the door and joined her for a short distance, eyes glittering. “How was your outing?”

“O-outing?” She spluttered. “We were running an errand, that’s it.”

A lofty laugh escaped the other woman, shielded by a fur-lined glove. “You aren’t fooling me at all. I noticed those little touches. I expect every detail over appetizers, dear.” With a wink and wiggle of her fingers, the heiress glided off to her next task.

“Hey!” Her protest went ignored. Burrowing her face in her scarf, she redirected an air current to cool down. It wasn’t enough.

***

The door opened, and Halek glanced towards the direction of the noise. “You’re late-” He stopped, noticing that while the newcomer also had violet eyes, she wasn’t who he was expecting. Black hair was styled in a braided crown, with a finger’s width of white weaving down the left side. One hand gently closed the door, as she hastily ducked her head.

“Sorry, I’m not Briony. We switched last minute. I’ll be helping you instead.” She went to the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands.

“Well, I’ll take any help right now. What’s your name?”

“Kalmia.” She even pronounced it the way a Hunter would, the first syllable in the back of her throat. But she was a Mage, apparent enough from her eyes, and her hair color automatically disqualified her from being a pure-blooded Hunter.

“Are you a Battle-Mage too?”

“No, I’m a Healer.”

“That’s better. Briony means well, but she tends to break things and I need the stove today.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, as she turned off the faucet. “I read the menu. It does seem like a lot…”

“It’s why we’re the first ones in the kitchen.” The pot roast was going to take most of the day to cook, and the glazed ham was a new addition to his repertoire. But he was excited to try.

She joined him in peeling the carrots and potatoes, introducing herself. She had been adopted by Hunters in Maj; he vaguely recognized the town as a former refugee campsite. After they passed, she slowly made her way to Haven. Meanwhile, this was the first year he spent beyond the largest Hunter city, The Reach. She didn’t fawn over who he was, and perhaps, that could be chalked up to how distant Maj had been. Either way, he was secretly happy.

By five, the pot roast was keeping warm in the slow cooker, and he closed the oven door on the ham. “This will be ready in a couple hours.”

“And what’s next?”

“Next, I’m going to take a nap. You can do what you want in the meantime. I’ll be in the back.”

“Oh. Alright.” She looked around, hesitant. “Um, sleep well?”

His attempt at a nod was more of a head droop. “Later.” The nearest break room had a decent couch and when he stirred awake, he felt a little better.

And the kitchen hadn’t burned down. Kalmia was taking a kettle off the stove and acknowledged his return with a little wave. Her braid had been undone, her hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “I made tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure.” He yawned. When he sat down, a steaming cup was waiting for him. The liquid was a dark gold color, still spinning gently. Used to the blends their quartermaster liked to offer, he expected sugary sweetness. Instead, this herbal tea was surprisingly mellow, like chamomile at first, before giving way to a deeper bittersweet flavor. Complex and refreshing. “This is just what I needed.”

She beamed, hands wrapped around her own cup. “It’s one of my favorites from when I was living in Leore.”

He stared at her for a few moments, before remembering to look away. “You have good taste.” His phone suddenly vibrated and he scowled at the caller ID. He let it ring, watching as the inevitable voicemail notification appeared.

“Is it a spam call?”

“Worse. My fiancé. You know, Hunters and their arranged marriages.”

“You don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t. But the other choice is to condemn everyone at home, depending on more new Hunters.”

Her expression was melancholy, and barely above a whisper, she said. “If you’re trapped, it’s not a choice at all.”

The sentiment warmed him as much as the tea did. But there was also the ring of truth in her words and the strength of memory in her distant gaze. He wondered what had happened to her, who could have hurt her. If he wanted to, he could reach across the table and pat her shoulder. Pushing the thought aside, he refilled their cups. “I have a recipe for almond cookies. It’d go well with this, next time.”

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

The implicit promise cut through the tension, and he exhaled. “I’m free whenever. In the past, I always liked Wintersun, because I have the time to cook, eat, and sleep. Or because it has ‘sun’ in the name.” Halek dryly noted.

“Oh, that’s right. I like Wintersun too. The hanging laurel especially.” She sounded wistful. “Probably because Kalmia means laurel. But you already know that.” She added, self-conscious.

“Mm. Did your parents want you to fly?”

She laughed, for the first time that day. She seemed almost surprised by it, and tried to answer him but her giggles kept breaking through. “Me, flying? As a baby?”

Happiness suited her better than sorrow, and he started to shake with repressed laughter too, at the mental imagery of a pair frantically running after a dark-haired infant drifting away from a farmhouse. He didn’t have to think of other traditions involving laurel.

***

The icing smeared in a runny white trail, drawing a groan from Briony.

“Come on!” She glared at the sugar cookie she was currently decorating, and then at the rest of the tray she had wreaked havoc on. She thought switching to the dessert team would be more fitting to her skillset and it was, until the baking was done. Somehow, all of her miniature Shepherds appeared awkwardly proportioned at best and hideous at worst.

“Everything okay?” The kind voice meant to comfort but she only felt more ashamed. Gentian’s recreation of Tangriel’s Tower was the most impressive cake she’d ever seen, with its fudgy center and raisin-lined battlements. Also...he was really cute in an apron, with his blue-black hair gathered into a bun for convenience. Really cute, even if she was kind of jealous.

“Oh, it’s just fantastic.” She grumbled. “How do you make everything look so tasty?”

“I don’t know?” He sheepishly shrugged. “How are your-oh. Well...they’re definitely original.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Yeah, her creations stood out, compared to the cake, Tallys’s individual servings of Elvish trifles, and Shery’s traditional fairy bread. “But they should taste okay! I think...”

Gentian reached for one of the smaller cookies, intended to be one of the few replicas of herself and topped with light pink frosting and violet sprinkles for her eyes. He took a bite; she held her breath. She tried not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.

“This was your first time making them?”

“Technically, yeah. Shery read the recipe I was using and said it seemed alright. I just followed the instructions and hoped for the best. I mean, I don’t remember baking anything before.” Briony nervously laughed. Beyond the past few months, she only knew her name and the password to her phone, which had been wiped clean. The Shepherds had found her in an underground fighting ring, where he slipped inside to recruit her. The glaring lights had targeted his figure when he stepped forward as her next challenger. Unassuming at first glance, but she immediately recognized he was a skilled fighter, just by how he moved. “Anyway, what do you think?”

He smiled. “I think if the rest of the tray is just like this one, you won’t have any left at the end of tonight. It’s delicious.”

“Really?!”

“Try one for yourself.”

She chose another doughy Shepherd, a navy-colored mess, and chomped it down before he could notice. It was slightly warm, the edges crispy. Vanilla and sweet icing filled her mouth. “Ah, it’s good! I need to save that recipe…it should be in my phone’s history.”

“If you need help tracking it down, I can help.”

“That’d be great! But didn’t you only see it during this morning’s meeting?”

“It was enough.”

Now, she was certainly confused. “You memorized it in less than a minute?”

Hesitantly, he replied. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“Eidetic?” The word was unfamiliar.

“Photographic is another word. I don’t forget anything I’ve seen or experienced once.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! That’s like the opposite of my problem.” That earned her a laugh, which was encouraging. She paused. “But if you don’t forget anything, that includes things you don’t want to remember, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He became quiet, his thoughts obviously far away. She’d seen him like this on occasion, especially around the Ket members.

She strode around the table and as his blue gaze drifted to her, she hugged him.

“Briony?” His soft voice had dipped low, and the vibration against her cheek made her heart flutter.

“You look like you needed a hug. And Wintersun is exactly the time for hugs. Well, so is Lovelace Day, but that’s not right now!” Lovelace Day was also a long ways off, and she imagined it would be nice to spend it with him. If he agreed. “Is this okay?”

“It is.” His hand touched between her shoulder blades, with the lightest pressure. She was about to hold him tighter when there was the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Immediately, they let go of each other. Tallys stood at the door, appearing spotless despite the day’s work.

“I was about to ask if you two had finished.” She gave them a very pointed look. “But it looks like you just started. See you around.” As she spun on her heel, she was definitely smirking.

“Oops.” Briony grinned at him. He was even cuter when he blushed. “She crept up on us.”

“I should have noticed though.” He sighed but smiled when he finally met her gaze again. His expression was gentle, without a trace of sadness. “Thank you.”

“No problem. If you’d like any more hugs, just let me know.” She spread her arms in offering.

“I’ll remember.” His tattooed wrist lifted, and he quickly tugged a lock of her pink hair, his fingertips brushing her cheek. While she was still processing that, he cited a need for more powdered sugar and headed out.

Alone, she pressed her hands to her burning face. Maybe, she could pass by him under the hanging laurel later…

***

The party lasted into the late hours of the night, and by the end of it, the Shepherds were exhausted and trudging during the cleanup. The leftover prizes were fought over, though most somehow ended up in Caine’s arms, and there was enough cake remaining to bring home, so no one was going to leave unsatisfied. The laurel branches had been plucked clean, petals stuck to sleeves and clinging to mussed hair. The unanimous consensus was that it had been a success, one final fun celebration together before they began anew. And really, that was what Wintersun was all about.

[iforgotmypreviousaccountlol]

Starting Line

Happy Holidays, @carson-asmo-lover 

This is your Secret Santa gift. I hope you like it!

AU: Asmo is a uni student who just moved into a new apartment unit, Solomon is living next door learning how to bake. Every day, Asmo would smell the sweet aroma of baked goods from his room and in the hallways. One day, after a hectic day from uni, he stops in front of the door trying to guess which baked good is being made for that day. The door opens, cue awkward silence, Solomon invites Asmo into his apartment, and into his life.

ASMO

There, there it is again. Asmodeus glanced at his wall clock. Right on time: 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The sweet smell of sugar and pastry permeated his room. His next-door neighbour is baking again. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to take a guess which pastry his neighbour decided to make today. It has been a good past-time for whenever he found himself bored on some days when he doesn’t have uni classes. Not that he had nothing better to do, he had to catch up on a lot of schoolworks but he isn’t in the mood to do them right now.

He moved in just a few months ago so he could be closer to school, but now that he enjoyed the new-found freedom that is living alone, he realized he missed the constant presence of his brothers. Sure, having his own place meant that Lucifer wasn’t around to nag him when he goes out to party most nights, or if he brings people back to his place for some night escapades (He never did bring someone over though. Maybe he should.) He made a mental note to go home for the weekend if the workload permits.

“Cinnamon rolls,” he finally said, propping up from the couch. The sweet smell of the cinnamon powder that contrasted with the slightly sour cream cheese made Asmo’s mouth water. He groaned. “If you’re gonna make pastries, at least offer some to your neighbours so we don’t get hungry from the smell.”

Now he has no choice but to go down and buy something sweet to satisfy his craving. He put on a peach sweater and wrapped a white scarf around his neck. He stared at his reflection for a moment. His champagne-colored hair was longer on one side, stylishly swept to frame his face. His diamond stud earring reflected light when he turned his face in a certain angle. “Alright, enough. I look stunning, as always.”

He wrinkled his nose at his neighbour’s door when he passed on his way out, the smell of cinnamon is much stronger in the hallway. He hadn’t even met the mysterious baker, given that he’s almost always out to some party when he isn’t in class, it’s strange that they never even once bumped into each other in the lobby or the elevator. He shrugged and went on his way to hunt for some cinnamon rolls.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Asmo was almost dragging himself back to his condo unit after a hectic morning. He had a 3-hour lecture for Fashion Marketing and he had to pass a 10-page essay on Fashion Theory (which of course, he crammed last night. He even skipped a campus party!) and he’s just about ready to pass out and is determined to take a long nap for the whole afternoon. That would have been a solid plan, except it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and the scent of baked sweets wafted from his neighbour’s room and into the hallway.

He stopped on his tracks and inhaled the scent, his brain immediately fell to its routine, trying to discern which ingredients are being used to create what pastry. “Milk, definitely. What else? Eggs? And oh—”

The door suddenly opened. Asmo jerked back in surprise, his hand latched to the strap of his sling bag. He blinked once, twice.

A tall man with silvery-white hair with stunning blue-gray eyes, wearing a black turtleneck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and white apron, came out of the room carrying a small trash bag. Asmo was never one to be at a loss for words, especially not in front of attractive people, but his tongue refused to make an audible sound.

“Oh, hello. I suppose you’re my neighbour? I believe this is the first time we’re meeting each other?” The man continued, “I’m Solomon.”

Asmo shook off his surprise and cleared his throat. He wore his usual disarming smile and nodded at him. “Asmodeus. I just came back from school, I was just, uh,” he said while gesturing to his unit’s door.

“I see.”

Awkward silence filled the space between and around them. Asmo noticed a faint sprinkle of flour on Solomon’s right cheek, he clamped down the urge to reach in and dust it off.

The fire alarm started beeping causing the two to jolt in surprise. Solomon raced to the trash chute, dumped the trash bag and raced back inside his room to turn off the oven. Asmo stood unmoving to the doorway. He wondered if he should offer help.

Thick smoke came out of the oven when Solomon opened it, he fanned the oven with a mitt. The fire alarm hasn’t stopped beeping so Asmo mindlessly stepped inside and grabbed the nearest flat object (which happened to be a pan of piped cream puff dough) to fan the alarm component on the ceiling. He honestly had no idea what he’s doing. The piped dough from the baking pan fell and scattered on the floor, one even hitting him right on the cheek.

“Oh. It stopped,” he commented, the pan still raised over his head.

Asmo glanced at Solomon who was still kneeling in front of the oven and saw that a bunch of dough pieces is now strewn around the kitchen floor. A solitary piece of dough stuck on the baking sheet finally gave up and dropped on Asmo’s forehead. He blinked slowly, unsure on how to react.

Solomon snorted, obviously trying but miserably failing to hold back a laugh. Asmo flicked away the dough which earned a chuckle from Solomon, which in turn triggered Asmo to burst into laughter.

“Sorry, that was… not funny.” Solomon said in between laughs.

Asmo doubled over. He wiped a tear that escaped his eye from laughing and said, “It kinda was.”

“Listen, why don’t you sit and clean yourself up. I’ll just tidy up for a bit and we could enjoy the successful batch I made earlier. Think of it as a welcoming present.”

Asmo considered it for a moment. Sleep or… this? “Sure.”

Solomon smiled, and started cleaning up the mess.

Asmo pulled out a chair and sat. His rose and gold eyes followed Solomon’s movement. It mesmerized him; the grace in his movements, certain and self-assured. He stared so hard he didn’t even notice that Solomon was already standing in front of him asking something.

He shook his head a tiny bit. “I’m sorry, come again?”

Solomon chuckled. His chuckle sent a shiver down Asmo’s spine.

“I asked if you would like tea or coffee. To pair with the cream puffs.”

“Tea, please. With milk.”

Solomon nodded and proceeded to the kitchen counter to make the tea. Asmo wanted to face palm and cringe. Why is he acting this way?

“So… tell me about yourself,” Solomon said.

Asmo paused. In any other instances, he would’ve already started talking about himself without even needing to be prompted. Why is it that he can’t think of something interesting to tell this guy?

“Why don’t we talk about you first?” Asmo deflected the question.

That earned another smile from the fair-haired man. He brought the cooling rack containing the cream puffs and a tray of tea and cups.

“What do you want to know?”

Everything, Asmo thought. Instead he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Chemistry. You?”

Huh, that surprisingly fits him. “Fashion design. Why are you always baking?”

Solomon sipped his tea. “I promised my little brother Luke I would teach him how to bake. You see, a friend of mine, Barbatos went overseas for a job. He was the one who was supposed to teach Luke. But since he can’t, I decided to give it a go.”

“That’s incredibly nice of you.”

“Thank you. For now I still need to watch videos and study the recipe but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. Well, except for the incident earlier.”

Asmo nodded. The cream puffs looked so good he wanted to pull out his phone and post it on his Instagram but he stopped himself. He reached for one and popped it into his mouth.

The milky taste and the slight crisp of the puff blended well, it tasted divine—Asmo’s thoughts stopped at the same time he stopped chewing. WHAT IS THAT? It’s bitter and spicy and sour, flavor after flavor assaulted his taste buds faster than his brain can process the actual taste of the pastry.

He looked at Solomon, the latter clearly expecting a comment or reaction from him. Good thing he quickly managed his expression. He smiled, the cream puff still stuck on the roof of his mouth.

He was saved by the ringing of Solomon’s phone. When Solomon turned his back to reach for his phone, he quickly spit out the pastry on his handkerchief and stowed it on his bag’s pocket.

Solomon’s eyes widened slightly at him when he saw him gulped down his tea as a desperate attempt to wash out the aftertaste. “You sure are thirsty. More tea?” Solomon offered.

“I am. Yes, please.” Asmo nodded vigorously.

“So, what can you say about the cream puffs? It’s my first time so I can understand if they didn’t turn out perfect.”

That would be the understatement of the year, Asmo thought. He also dreaded the question. To tell or not to tell? “Do you have any more of the strawberry tart you made the other day?”

“How did you know I made some?”

“Please. Everyone on this floor probably knows what you’re baking every day.”

Solomon chuckled and proceeded to get a strawberry tart from his fridge.

Asmo swallowed, bracing himself. Just a small bite. A chaos of flavors.

He placed his palms flat on the table for 10 seconds then rushed to the sink to spit out the tart and gargle water. “What the hell was that?”

Solomon raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean? It tastes normal to me.”

Asmo’s jaw fell when he saw Solomon eating his tart with no problem, enjoying it even. He can’t believe he spent his days craving for sweets his neighbour baked when in reality they taste this atrocious.

“That’s it, Solomon. You’re not allowed to bake anymore,” Asmo said, shaking his head.

“Huh? I thought I was doing fine. I really need to learn though, I can’t disappoint Luke.”

Asmo bit his lip, considering. He sighed. “Fine. You can bake all you want, but never without me. I’ll oversee whatever you’re doing to make sure you never end up making those… those unidentifiable monstrosities again!”

Solomon smiled; in his grey-blue eyes, Asmo saw wonders, and potential, and… a future. “Deal.”

SOLOMON

Solomon checked his watch. It’s Friday and Asmo will be coming over in a minute or two. It’s already been more than a month since they started their “baking lessons.” Granted, it’s not every day; it’s only twice a week, thrice when their schedule permits. But would it be a stretch if he admitted to himself that the highlight of his weeks are the days when Asmodeus comes over to watch him work?

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He should just give Asmo a spare key, he thought while walking towards the door.

“You’ll never guess what happened in class today! So see, I crammed a paper again last night so I almost came late for class. Our professor for that class was Professor Simeon, you know? He’s wonderful but can be very strict so I didn’t want to be late and be scolded but then, on the way to the classroom…”

Solomon’s lips tugged at the corner as he watched Asmo lament about his tiring day at school. His strawberry champagne bangs swept stylishly, slightly messed up by the wind. His gold and ruby eyes sparkling along with his words and gestures. Asmo always looked alive to him. No, not the usual alive as in living. Really alive. Maybe that’s what happens when you know to find love in everything.

“Anyway, what are we making today?” Asmo finished, hanging his white coat on the rack near the door.

We. It shouldn’t have sounded as nice as it did. “We,” he said the word with maybe a bit more excitement than warranted, “are making red velvet cake.”

“All right! That’s great. I love red velvet.”

“I already prepared—”

He stopped because of the irritation that flashed in Asmo’s eyes. He bit his lower lip to suppress a smile.

“Throw it out.”

“That would be a waste. At least try out the batter before rejecting it.”

Asmo put both his hands on Solomon’s shoulders and looked at him seriously, emphasizing his words, “Solomon, I know for a fact that you are an amazing and smart chemist, but you’re hopeless in the kitchen.”

Solomon laughed which earned a chuckle from Asmo. “No, no, I didn’t add any suspicious ingredients this time. I swear. I followed the instructions word for word.”

Asmo begrudgingly took a spoon and tasted the batter.

“Good?”

He shrugged. “Surprisingly.”

It was two weeks ago when Asmo finally figured out what he was doing wrong all this time. Solomon had a bad habit of experimenting with ingredients, most likely because of his chemistry experiments. But even after figuring out what’s the problem, Asmo continued supervising his baking. Not that he’s complaining, and not that he would ever ask the arrangement to be over. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked having Asmodeus over.

Solomon started whipping the frosting with a hand mixer while Asmo stayed close to watch him. It took a lot to focus and not glance on his side.

Asmo said, “Hey, you got a little something—”

His eyes met Asmo’s in time as Asmo’s fingers dusted something from his cheek. They stayed frozen in time for a moment; staring at each other, Asmo’s fingers barely grazing Solomon’s cheek.

The moment would’ve lasted longer if the mixer’s whisk attachment hit the side of the bowl in a wrong angle and sprayed both of them with frosting. They blinked at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Kitchen blunders for the nth time,” Solomon joked.

Asmo pulled out his phone and suggested they take a picture, Solomon let Asmo take their “selfie.” After Asmo was satisfied with the pictures, Solomon reached for a paper towel to wipe frosting from Asmo’s usual immaculately beautiful face.

After the cake cooled, Asmo helped design the frosting. He also took pictures to post on his Instagram. Solomon made an account last week just to look at the pictures occasionally. The photo of the cake earned hundreds of likes and comments in minutes. Well, that can’t be helped, Asmo is a popular guy. Solomon would be too if he actually bothered to socialize, but he found it rather exhausting to deal with people he’s not interested in.

“Hey, could you send me our picture from earlier?” Sol said.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Asmo fiddled with his phone. “…And sent.”

“Thank you,” Solomon replied.

They settled down on the table to eat the cake they made and have some tea. They talked about their days and their upcoming exams. Eventually, the sun started setting. Its golden rays streaming from the window, dyeing the room in a soft orange hue.

“I think you’re okay now, Solomon. Remember to just always follow the instructions and don’t add any unnecessary ingredients to whatever you’re cooking or baking, and it’ll turn out fine.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. He pushed away the idea that Asmo will now stop coming over because they already eliminated the cause of the weird taste (which isn’t actually weird for him).

“It's a force of habit. I’m always curious so I can’t stop myself from experimenting with things.”

“I guess…”

“Why, am I eating up too much of your time?” He asked.

“Of course not. I like spending time with you, Solomon.” Asmo’s cheeks flushed a bit.

Solomon sipped his tea.

Asmo took the small window of silence to change the topic. “Anyway, I got a call from Mammon the other day and guess what? He’s appearing in a mag—”

“Me too,” he interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“I like spending time with you too.”

Asmo was caught off-guard but eventually smiled. He reached for his bag and pulled out a silver box with a champagne-colored ribbon. “By the way, here.”

Solomon’s brows wrinkled. “What’s this?”

“Happy Birthday, Solomon.”

“How did you—”

Asmo winked at him. “Information comes easily when you have a lot of friends.” Asmo laughed and continued, “Kidding. I’m in the same class as Meph, he works in the registrar’s office as an assistant so I asked him. I had to do him some favours, but eh, it’s worth it.”

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.”

Asmo’s phone beeped, he looked at his notifications. His eyes widened a fraction.

Solomon smiled. He had an idea why Asmo was surprised. He glanced on his own phone, notifications pouring in fast. He clicked on a post, his first one ever.

It’s a photo Asmo took of them earlier. Asmo, lively as always, was throwing a peace sign while winking, his ruby and gold eyes full of wonder; Solomon, his blue-grey eyes a pool of mystery, was smiling a bit, looking at him contentedly. The caption? Best birthday with ‘that special someone.’

His phone chimed, a notification appeared on top of his screen: Asmodeus liked your photo.

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.30

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Next stop is Mrs Mason’s house to talk to her about baking the wedding cake.

Tagging: @holdmeicant​ @willymywonkers​ @sleepiesapphicxoxo​

For their next stop, it was off to Mrs Mason's house. The woman was an extremely talented baker (proven by her magical pies) so she was the obvious choice to bake the cake. Her kitchen window was open and a sweet aroma came through it.

"Mmm!" Willy hummed in delight when he noticed the smell. "Something smells wonderful!"

"It's coming from over there" Charlie said, pointing to the window. The three of them walked over to the window. They looked inside to see both Mrs Mason and Priscilla working hard in the kitchen.

"Mrs Mason! Cilla!" Rose called to their attention.

Priscilla turned around first. She had flour dusted on her face. "Oh, hello Rose, Willy, and Charlie!"

"Hello my dears!" Mrs Mason greeted them. She was also covered in flour but unlike Priscilla, she just had it on her apron. "Please, come on in you three. The door is open"

Rose, Willy and Charlie went to the front door, opened it up and made their way inside into the kitchen. "Whoa" Rose said when stepping foot into the room. "It's a mess in here!"

There were dirty dishes filling the sink, the counters were dusted with flour and crumbs, and on the table stood a many array of cakes, all different flavours.

"Yes it is, but all for a good reason" Mrs Mason said with a smile as she began stirring a bowl of melted chocolate. "Priscilla and I have been hard at work all day trying to come up with the perfect cake for your wedding"

Rose furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "How did you know we'd even be by today?"

"Actually, we were gonna come by and get you to try the cakes" Priscilla explained. "But you're here now so it'll be easier for us to figure it out" She went to go dip her finger in the bowl of chocolate but Mrs Mason slapped it away. "Ow! What was that for?"

"This is to pour on the cake, not for you to dip your fingers into" Mrs Mason scolded her. Priscilla stuck her tongue out at the woman, causing Mrs Mason to roll her eyes. "Oh, here" She grabbed a rubber spatula and dipped it into the chocolate. Then she gave it to Priscilla.

Priscilla smiled at her and batted her eyelashes. "Thank you!" She went to go sit at the table as she licked the chocolate off.

Charlie joined her at the table while Rose and Willy stayed with Mrs Mason. "You two made all these in one day?" He asked, referring to all the cakes.

"Sure did" Priscilla nodded. She began pointing out some of the cakes to Charlie. "So far we made Red Velvet, Black Forest, Angel Food cake, Devil's Food cake, German Chocolate"

"And right now I'm working on the cake that I'm sure will be the one you two will pick" Mrs Mason said. "It's chocolate, of course. The cake itself is chocolate and the glaze I'm making here is chocolate. It's even got a creamy chocolate center" She stopped stirring to look at Rose and Willy. "I was originally just going to make the chocolate cake, but Priscilla wanted to give you two other choices" Mrs Mason eyed the girl. "Or perhaps she just wanted an excuse to eat cake all day"

"Hey! The more cake the better" Priscilla defended her choice.

Rose smiled and looked at all the cakes. "Well, they all look and smell wonderful"

"They sure do" Willy agreed with her.

Mrs Mason smiled. The oven dinged indicating that the cake that was in the oven was ready. She put on her oven mitts and then took out the cake. She placed it onto the counter. "Rose, dear, can you pass me the bowl of chocolate please?"

Rose grabbed the bowl and handed it over to Mrs Mason. Mrs Mason then poured the contents of the bowl onto the cake, coating it nicely and evenly in the chocolate. After that, she grabbed a piping bag and began to decorate the cake, making roses out of the frosting.

Mrs Mason piped away, and Priscilla and Charlie chatted. Rose grabbed the bowl which was now left with a coating of the chocolate along the bottom and sides. She dipped her finger into the bowl and scooped some of the chocolate with it. She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked off the chocolate. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned in delight at the taste.

"Mmm. That tastes absolutely divine" Rose said. She didn't miss the way that Willy was staring at her. His lips were slightly parted and his gaze was mostly on her lips. "You okay, cocoa bean?" She asked with a sultry purr.

"You've just got a little bit of chocolate," Willy reached over and using his thumb, he wiped off the bit of chocolate that was left on her bottom lip. "Right there" He brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked off the chocolate. His eyes never left hers as he did so. "That is divine" Willy added, flashing Rose a smirk.

Rose could feel her face heat up as she bit her lip. That turned her on more than she wanted to admit.

"No way!" Priscilla suddenly exclaimed, slapping her palms onto the table. It broke Rose and Willy out of their intense stare, and it broke Mrs Mason's concentration from piping. "Rose, Charlie just told me your wedding dress is going to be made out of cotton candy!?"

Rose couldn't stop her excited smile. "It sure is! My new friend, Lucy, is going to make it for me"

"I can picture you now" Priscilla closed her eyes, smiling as she imagined Rose in a puffy pink cotton candy dress. "You're gonna look so beautiful!"

"I know she will!" Willy agreed with a dreamy smile and giggle.

"So, you've got the dress, Eleanor is handling the music, and Mrs Mason is working on the cake. Do you know what you want for decorations?" Priscilla wondered. "Not to toot my own horn or anything, but when it comes to making things look amazing, I'm your girl" She winked as she pointed at herself.

"Are you offering to be our decorator?" Rose inquired.

"That I am" Priscilla nodded. "You just tell me what you want and I can get it done"

"Thanks, Cilla. We'd appreciate that"

"Alright. This is the last cake I'm baking today" Mrs Mason said when she put the piping bag down. Then she picked up the cake and presented it to Rose and Willy. "What do you two think?"

"Oh, Mrs Mason! It's beautiful!" Rose gushed over the pastry. The cake itself was a dark brown due to the chocolate. Mrs Mason piped red and white frosting roses along the top of it. "You managed to make the roses look so real. This is definitely the cake I want for the wedding" Rose looked at Willy. "How about you, cocoa bean?"

"You can have whatever cake you want, starshine, as long as it makes you happy" Willy said.

Mrs Mason smiled. "Now this one is just a sample. How many tiers do you want for the actual cake?"

"A three tiered cake will be fine" Rose answered.

"Wonderful" Mrs Mason put the cake down on the counter. She grabbed a few plates. "Charlie, do you want to help me serve some cake?"

"Sure thing, Mrs Mason" Charlie told her. He got up from the table and went to go help Mrs Mason cut pieces of the cake. Rose and Willy sat with Priscilla at the table.

Rose eyed all of the other cakes. "What are you planning on doing with these?"

"I'll take the Black Forest to my mom. It's her favourite after all" Priscilla said. "And whatever you want to take home to the Buckets is yours"

"And whatever is left after that, I can sell in the shop" Mrs Mason added.

Charlie walked over to the table and set two plates of cake in front of Rose and Willy. "Charlie?" Rose piped up, making him look at her. "Which one do you think we should take home?"

"The Red Velvet" Charlie decided quickly. He went over to grab a couple more plates of cake. He set one in front of Priscilla and then sat back down with his own plate of cake. Finally, Mrs Mason joined them at the table with her plate of cake in hand.

"Do you know what you two dears are doing about the food?" Mrs Mason asked Rose and Willy.

"Mum said she'd be willing to handle the cooking and stuff, but she'd like a couple extra pair of hands" Rose explained.

"I'm sure Danny and Felix would help her" Priscilla suggested. "Danny, he loves to cook and Felix, well he just likes to be a helpful hand"

"Oh goody. Then that just leaves one more thing on my list. I need to find someone who can handle all the flower arrangements, including my bouquet" An idea came to Rose's head. "Didn't Harry say that he owned a flower shop?"

Priscilla gave Rose an unsure look. "Are you sure you want Harry anywhere near this wedding?"

"I know everyone here is still skeptical of him, me included, but I need someone to take care of the flowers. And besides, this'll be his chance to really make it up to me"

"If that's what my pretty truffle wants, then I think we should all support her decision" Willy said. He grabbed Rose's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Even you, Cilla" He added, glancing at his friend.

"Willy is right, Priscilla" Mrs Mason agreed. "This is Rose's wedding. If that's what she wants to do, then let her"

"Alright. You convinced me" Priscilla said. "But you're taking me with you to go see him. You know, just in case he tries anything"

"If you're going with her, someone else is gonna need to stay behind and help me clean this all up and pack up the other cakes" Mrs Mason said, motioning to the mess.

"I'll help you" Charlie offered.

"Me too" Willy said. "Rose knows what she wants, and I trust Priscilla to take care of my starshine"

"Don't worry, Willy. Rose is in good hands with me" Priscilla said, draping her arm over her best friend's shoulder. She wasn't blind to see the serious way Willy was staring at her. Honestly, she found it a little intimidating. "What?"

"I mean it. If I find one hair hurt on my Rose's pretty little head, I'm holding you responsible" Willy said it so seriously and darkly. He was a happy person overall but if something were to happen to Rose, he would lose all manner of control.

"Understood" Priscilla said quickly, honestly feeling scared in that moment. She knew Willy meant well though. This was the love of his life they were talking about.

Willy's expression quickly changed from a serious stare to a happy grin. "Good!" Willy chirped, happy and pleased with Priscilla's promise. He did have to admit though, he was a little scared of Rose facing her used-to-be relentless pursuer without him, but he also knew that she would be in good hands with Priscilla.