#framed recipe cards

[jinmark]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room in Salt Lake City Example of a large cottage dark wood floor kitchen/dining room combo design with gray walls and no fireplace

[peachesofteal]

No thoughts really… just Simon who is fucking obsessed with you and Johnny. Who can’t go a day without turning his phone on (without the SIM card of course, because Price would rip him a new one) just to flip through the pictures he’s got stashed in a private folder (password protected, of course.) Photos of the two of you all over the flat, on the couch under a big blanket during movie night, snuggled together, Johnny’s mouth open and head tipped back while he snores. You, in a bubble bath with a heavy pour of red wine, it’s stain just barely visible on your lips, smattering of bubbles across your collarbone. You, sitting on the kitchen counter while Johnny runs through his mom’s favorite recipe, taken from where Simon sits on the opposite side. A picture of you, under a white sheet, smiling at him, with just the shadow of Johnny’s hand along your upper arm. A photo of Johnny in car, laughing, face lit with joy, eyes happy and at peace. Another one of you in a too small dress, the one they both ended up ripping beyond repair. And a selfie, one you forced him to take, all three of your faces crammed into the screen. You’re absolutely beaming, beautiful and bright, so lovely it makes his chest hurt, and Johnny’s gaze burns into him from the freeze frame, crystal blue eyes that he could drown in. They’re just clips, memories, but things he holds too close to his chest, things he can’t live without.

Dead Disco.

[nanamimizz]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬.

tags: 18+ minors dni, fem reader, established relationship, pro soccer player kunigami, closet sex, fingering, making out, penetrative and oral sex hinted, jealousy and possessive themes, mention of unwanted flirting and physical touch - let me know if i missed something !

synopsis: what is kunigmai rensuke’s is kunigami rensuke’s, and nothing will change that even your stupid co-worker who can’t keep his hands to himself.

If Kunigami had it his way, he'd make it so you would never have to lift a finger. He’s overpaid doing what he lives for - going pro was everything he wanted, and it soothes an ugly green part of himself that knows he can provide for you. But you are too kind for that kind of life, you still try to pay for things despite how he always pre-pays for dinners or straight up takes your cards out of your wallet when you go out shopping. You work a normal job, something usual and consistent. You like it that way and he tries to respect that very much. 

He thinks he’s done an excellent job of it until you bring him to a corporate party and all that goes out the window. It starts normally enough, you show him around your office and it makes him smile that you have a framed jersey with his number on it, a poster of his team, and a framed photo of him holding you at a championship game - the first one of his pro career. It’s sweet, it fills him with such pride to know you carry him with you each day you clock into the office. He meets your co-workers - most are older than you as you are one of the newer hires and they all gawk over him with wide eyes and gasping lips.

You had told your office your boyfriend was a pro athlete but didn’t explicitly say your boyfriend and Kunigami Rensuke were the same. It didn’t bother him in retrospect, you’ve always been the quieter one between the two of you - all attempts for privacy came from you, and you never wanted Kunigmai to feel as if you were with him for fame or money.

You love Kunigami Rensuke with all your soul and it is there in the most subtle of ways that exist only for the two of you to bear witness to. The polaroid of your blacked-out silhouettes from New years on the back of your phone case and the locket around his neck that holds the photos of your engagement shoot that he kisses before he’s out on the pitch. The way you have a homemade book filled with recipes for when he goes on his diet to help him bulk up or slim down when the soccer season rolls around. The way he has a list of which chocolate and jam spread brands you like for when you have your cravings. 

These things, these actions are eternal in an otherwise epithermal world and Kunigami knows damn well that he does not stand for on the international stage to play for something like his country’s pride. He plays for you and for you alone, for the beading of tears that shine in your eyes whenever he succeeds - his pride is yours and his joy is yours too. And for the most part, you two have had your relatively peaceful love lives, your e  waits for the two of you in the summer of next year and it’s blissful in a way that he doesn’t have the words to describe. Maybe that’s why you always nagged him to pay attention in his Classics class, then he would have the words to describe all that he feels for you the way you always know what to say to him whenever he needs it.

And he would have all the words to say what he feels when he hears what your co-worker, a relatively handsome man your age, calls you - “Hey work-wife”. Kunigmai already does not like him, he feels the way you tense from where your arm is tucked into his elbow - he was raised to be a gentleman by a strict mother and an even stricter older sister who has been handed too many douchey men so she made sure to raise him right (He hears her bragging to you about his manners too many times to count when he brings you over for family dinners). He can see why you tense up because the minute you're on your own - you wanted to get something to drink and when he offered to get it instead, you gave him that pout that speaks to your want to do things on your own. It never fails to be cute to him so he laughs softly and lets you go with a nod of his head and a final squeeze of your hand. Any joy evaporates and tastes of ash when he sees your younger co-worker come up to you and place his arm around your shoulders - tugging you close, too close in his opinion which sours further when he sees how you tense under his touch.

He knows you, and he knows how much you hate anyone’s touch other than his own.

Kunigami is on his feet faster than ever and your work best friend sputters after him as their polite but meaningless conversation goes to dust as he leaves with a barely-there excuse. He is at your side faster than you can blink, long legs and speed training make it so. His hand is warm and familiar - firm as he loops it around your waist, tugging you until you are flushed to him, free from your co-worker’s touch.

“Wow, easy tiger - is this the infamous famous boyfriend? I thought you were fibbin’ about him bein’ a pro soccer player?” The man grins at you in a way that was supposed to be charming but looks more like a grimace and his accent reminds Kunigami of Karasu so he concludes he is from Osaka. Auburn eyes light into a blaze as he tilts his head, sizing up his prey and he is glad when he sees the other swallow thickly at the sight of him. Kunigami has always been imposing - with each centimeter he grows and each kg he gains it only adds to how easily he can intimidate the people around him.

So he delights when he sees how the other man’s confidence withers and dies, turning to bone and ash before his very eyes - it worsens when Kunigami can see the familiar glint of jealousy that burns like acid when Kunigami tightens his hold on your waist; drawing you closer to his side until he feels your warmth through your clothes. Kunigami’s ego only soars on two occasions when he scores and when he has you in his arms in front of someone who so badly wants what is so rightfully his.

Kunigami doesn’t say anything - he doesn’t have to, the other man knows the battle is lost. He never had a chance to begin with, not when your man is Kunigami Rensuke himself. You let him take you to the lobby of the building, far from the party and there is a look of distress on your face that Kunigami can’t stand - he has half the mind to go back to the party and punch your shitty coworker himself. With a quick sweep around the lobby, he snorts when his gaze lands on the opened coat closet that would be the perfect place to take this to where he wants. Still leading the way he pushes you inside it, locking the door behind him and he finds that it isn’t as cramped as he thought. It still lets him push himself up against your smaller form - crowding you against the wall in a way that he knows makes you tongue-tied.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask and he says a quick no because he’s not - jealous and possessiveness dance along his spine but that can wait until you are comforted.

“Does he always talk to you like that - touches you like that? When you don’t want to be?” He asks and he tilts his head so you can see a single searing auburn eye among the shadow of how his hair falls. You nod, bringing a hand to your face, and rub at your temples in exhaustion.

“Y-yeah he does - I thought it would go away if I started talking about you but when that didn’t work I started bringing some of your merchandise from home to here, you know to show that I’m dedicated to you and stuff.” You pause to take a shuddering breath as you remember how the man’s touch felt on your skin - stinging like acid rain and rancid like sulfur, you only wanted Kunigami to be able to touch you like that. He hums, leaning back against the door so that he can hear it creak a little under his weight.

“I thought - I already wanted to bring you along but I thought if you came he’d finally give up his stupid delusion of always flirting with me, calling me stupid things like his work wife and stuff.” You finish and your shoulders are by your ears like they do when you are about to cry so he draws near, wrapping a bulky arm around your tense shoulders. You are brought in close to where you can almost taste the notes of his cologne and all it does is make you nuzzle into his skin in the way you know tickles him. He chuckles into your ear and his hand that rubs at your shoulders relaxes you into his body.

“Guys like that are assholes, they don’t give up - thought you would have known that from being around me all the time and the team,” Kunigami mutters, throwing a tease in there to make you laugh. It’s to his relief that it does and you snort into the color of his shirt, your voice muffled against his strong body.

“You aren’t an asshole,” you defend him and he huffs amusedly at your claim.

“The others are - and I’m not an asshole to you.” He remarks pulling away just to look at you with a barely there smile that was a little too proud of what he is saying. You look at him with a stern expression, though there is some amusement in your eyes and he’s glad he still can cheer you up.

“Your teammates aren’t that bad, and neither are you.” Kunigami smiles slightly and butts his head with you like the way dogs do when they want your attention and your affection.

“That’s why guys like that always think they’ve got a chance with you - always so sweet even to shitty losers who don’t deserve it.”  You pull away to look up at him, raising a finger to point in his face with something stubborn in your eyes.

“You better not be put in that category of a shitty loser Kunigami Rensuke, you hear me?” You warn, voice firm and he smiles a little wider - the sort of self-satisfied and dripping in ego that he most reserves for being out on the field but he gives it to you too sometimes. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I got you, there's no way I’m a shitty loser when I get to take you home every night.” His smug reply and the rolling of your eyes are cut off by the heated kiss he presses to your lips. It tastes of him - the snowy peaks of his hometown and the fire of his veins you can only latch onto the front of his shirt when you feel his tongue slip into your gasping mouth. It feels right, it feels true Kunigami is the only man who is allowed to touch you, to taste you and that is how it must be. His hands don’t keep to themselves, they slip under the skirt of your dress. A simple long-sleeved dress but it makes him hungry all the same, gluttony and greed paint his hands as you feel them come up to the curve of your ass - his fingers follow the lace trail of your panties, stockings, and garters with the same worshiping haze of a devoted acolyte.

Devotion can be tasted and love can be felt as your hands do not remain idle, they are in his hair and cradling his jaw. When he pulls away Kunigami hates that he can’t sustain himself on you alone but your lipstick is on his lips and your perfume coils around him like a fog and he thinks that’s good enough for now. You’re panting, his hands haven’t stopped just because the kiss has and you whine something startled when you feel his fingers trace the gusset of your panties with something wicked in his autumn eyes.

“I thought you said you weren’t mad -”

“I’m not,” He says with certainty but there’s evil in the way he half smiles at you, “just competitive.”

 What you wish to say never comes as you gasp when you feel the skirt of your dress being rucked up and the too-cool air of your office dancing around your heated lower half. The garters squeeze into the plush of your skin and Kunigami can’t stop the groan that tugs from his chest even if he wants to. Rough fingers pull back the soft satin material of your panties, and your cunt weaves its silk webs of wanting that follow the damp fabric until they snap and his fingers are tracing the petals of your pussy with newfound hunger. The curls of your pelvis part and cling to your slick, Kunigami fights the urge to drop to his knees to lick you clean but this isn’t the place for that - the closet is too narrow and the walls too thin, they can barely conceal what it is he is doing to you now. Strong fingers find your puffy clit and you hide your whine into his beck, your form crumpling and shaking under the sudden but all-encompassing pleasure that laps at your ankles up to your neck. 

“You’re mine, yeah? Doesn’t matter what any shithead calls you - you’re mine.” His words are like magma that course through the earth and you can only nod and whine and nod some more with each declaration he murmurs into your ear as you lose more of your sanity in the flow and ebb of having your cunt played with. Kunigami is nothing but demanding and now that he’s shed his polite outer layer all he is left with is the beast within. He ensures to ensnare you with his claws as if there is anywhere else you would rather be.

 You feel his hair tickle your temples as his head turns - Kunigami twisting his head until his mouth is level with your neck - tender is the flesh and ripe for his white teeth to dig into the skin. You gasp, a third finger has slipped it along with the burning sting of his teeth digging into your neck you can’t help but sigh his name in utter adoration - “Rensuke!”

The fingers inside you curl and Kunigami sucks at your neck, the flesh darkening and flushing the same color as the lust shared between the two of you. Your chest aches, from your heart to the peaks of your nipples that grow tight still confide in your dress because this isn’t enough despite the burning twine of pleasure in your stomach.

You want for more - his tongue, his cock, and then his fingers again, it all feels so good; this does not feel like enough. Your words are clipped and breath but they reach him, your prayers for your lover of a god.

“Please - please Rensuke! I want more, please give me more!” You whisper to him, nerves fried and everything feels like a blur except for how your thighs tremble as the pleasure becomes more and more unbearable. His fingers, thick and long and so very cruel, keep their pace, curl inside of you the final time and you cum with his tongue in your mouth. It feels dirty and indecent - it could be because the setting of where your cunt was finger fucked into a haze is finally setting in but you can’t even put two in two together until you feel Kunigami’s hard-on pressed up against you. Your stockings feel soaked through from sweat and slick, your heels make you feel unstable and you can only blink up at him barely as he pressed his mouth to your ear again.

“You’re gonna go out there - say your goodbyes like the sweet thing you are with your cute cunt fucked by my fingers and with my marks on your skin. Get your things, take longer than ten and I won’t let you come all night long.”  A promise whispered, made with the following action of his hands following the curve of your ass as Kunigami smoothes down your pretty dress to give some decency after the indecent things both said and done in this small space. The prospect of punishment weighs heavy on the tongue but a part of him is delighted in your choppy nod and starry eyes. He opens the door but not without pressing a final kiss to your bitten lips and with a final reach of his hand to sweep your hair to the side - where the mark of his teeth screams all the possession he carries in his heart.

As you walk out of the closet with unsteady steps he can’t help but let his palm meets your behind in a quick swipe - it makes him half grin, a cruel tease as you jump and rub at your ass. Kunigami holds up the car keys and tilts his head in the direction of the parking lot.

“I’ll be outside - don’t keep me waiting.”

[quickiesgirl]

In the Kitchen - Wanda Maximoff

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Semi-Public Sex, Kitchen Sex, Cunnilingus, 50s Theme, Alternative Universe, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 1 - Kitchen Sex

You weren’t entirely thrilled receiving an invitation to the summer block party, thrown by your neighbor, Agnes. As fun as it may seem to fellow Westview residents, you rarely cared for the large, interactive crowds.

Instead, you enjoyed being in the presence of your family, whereas your wonderful wife, Wanda, was a social butterfly. Yet, even with these different traits, you still found some interesting ways to work around them.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder watching you walk through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of the shower. 

“Almost ready, my love?” She asked with the sweetest, most loving tone, untying the white, laced apron around her waist to lay it on top of the countertop, watching as you walked through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of a shower.

“Almost,” You repeated, leaning into the side of the counter, feeding the thin, leather belt through your trousers, noticing the silence that filled the active household, “Did the boys already head outside?”

“Yeah, they’re out on the lawn playing with Señor Scratchy.”

You took a moment to admire the missis. She looked absolutely stunning, standing there, dressed in her new blouse, bought specially for this occasion, and a bright, flowy pencil skirt that stopped mid-knee, hugging her hips in just the right places.

You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around her waist, chest pressing into her back while your chin lowered upon her shoulder with pursed, pouty lips, “Sure we can’t stay home today?” 

“Honey, we have to show up to the block party, Agnes is counting on us to bring the pies. I just hope I followed her grandmother's recipe correctly..." She said, glancing down at the recipe card, squinting her eyes, and knitting her brows together at the barely eligible writing scribbled across it. 

Wanda quickly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her attention was now set on the warmth spreading through her entire body as your lips began to lay kisses along the back of her neck, her floral-scented perfume filling your nose as you hummed softly and allowed your hands to caress her round, curved hips. 

Wanda sighed softly, cheeks growing a shade of scarlet as she tilted her neck to the side, allowing you more space to do as you please. 

Intoxicated by your touch and attention.

You move up slowly, soft lips brushing against the ridge of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, whispering in that dominant tone, “mhm, least I’ll have my gorgeous wife by my side,” 

She spun around in your embrace, laying her hands upon your clothed frame and sliding from your waist up to your breasts to adjust the collar of your long-sleeved button-up. 

“You know, no one would mind us being a few minutes late,” You suggested knowingly, inching your face closer to hers, “Just a little taste, baby?” 

Wanda immediately looked around seeing the many open windows surrounding the two of you, along with the frequently used door leading into the kitchen, “In here? W-what if someone sees us, or the kids walk in on us?” 

“No one will catch us, darling. I’ll be listening for the door the entire time.”

That look on your face tells everything she needs to know, all your wants and desires, without even having to read your mind. It made her ache for your touch. “Promise?” 

“I promise.” You smirked, watching her slowly move in, lacing her arms around your neck and connecting her lips to yours for a deep, intimate kiss.

Before she could think, you pinned her to the kitchen counter and grabbed ahold of her upper thighs to swiftly place her on top, causing a soft gasp to escape her lips. Your action sends a wave of heat between her thighs. She loved it when you’re forceful.

Wanda slowly kicked off her pearl-colored kitten heels, dropping them to the floor as she draped her arms over your shoulders, feeling your hands massage the underside of her smooth legs, the metal of your wedding ring cold and prominent against her skin, reminding her of the undying love you share for each other. 

With a twist of her wrist, her fingers blazed with red translucent energy, using her powers to suddenly close the kitchen shutters that looked in on the dining room table and living room, giving the two of you some much-needed privacy.  

Wasting no time, you pushed her skirt up and discarded her white panties to the floor, kneeling down, face inches away from her pretty, hairless pussy, already glistening with arousal. 

Eyes fluttering shut, taking in her sweet aroma with each breath before pressing your warm, wet tongue just above her entrance, licking a long, teasingly slow strip between her folds till you reach her sensitive bud, feeling her pulsate beneath your touch. 

Wanda sucked in a sharp breath, instantly dropping her hands up to grab ahold of your hair and push you deeper, showing you exactly where she needed you the most, causing you to devilishly smirk at your beautiful wife before pulling her hood back ever so slightly to reveal her swollen, sensitive clitoris, finally giving her some well-deserved attention. 

 The second the tip of your tongue swirled around, a pretty moan escaped her lips. Her head arching back as she squeezes your hair between her fingers, feeling the heat already pooling in her stomach. The weight of her gorgeous thighs now strung over your steady shoulders. 

“Best keep those eyes on me, sweetheart…” You said in less of a suggestion and more of an order, “I wouldn't want you to miss the show.” 

Wanda’s heavy gaze lowered, lashes batting as she watched your tongue work and maneuver her sweet spots between those pink, puffy lips, licking and teasing till her legs were trembling around your head. 

Your mind was set on one thing, getting a taste of that sweet cum gushing across your lips. 

 Her little pornographic sounds began to build, more and more, until they were spilling out of the kitchen. She was struggling to remain quiet. 

Wanda bunched the beautifully old-fashioned material of her dress in the palm of her hand, digging her long, painted nails into the fabric as her other hand reached down to grip the edge of the wooden counter, searching for any form of support so she could roll her hips on your tongue. 

A coil lay in her stomach, tensing and tightening, pulling her closer to release. 

“Mhm, that’s it, pretty baby,” You growl, grabbing hold of her hips over the soft material of her skirt to arch her pelvis forward and hold her still while you sink into her wet, tight hole, allowing your tongue to side in and out relentlessly, stroking her velvety walls while you fucked her forcefully. 

“Please, I'm gonna come! Y-you're gonna- make me cu-mmuhh~” She reached her tipping point, eyes rolling to the back of her head and her body tensing under your touch, unable to hold back any longer. 

Her cunt contracted, releasing her sweet juices along your tastebuds, painting your tongue like so many times before, yet every time, it was just as sweet as the last.

You happily cleaned her up, and slowly dragged your hands down, planting gentle kisses along her plush inner thigh while you ogled your wife, who was beautiful as ever with that dazed, euphoric look across her face.

The sound of the front door slamming shut instantly caught your attention. Your eyes broaden, listening to Billy shout from the living room, “Mom? Mom? Hey, where is everyone?”

Wanda gasped, hurriedly standing to her feet, hands flattening down her skirt, and slipping back into her heels as you swiped her panties from the floor and tucked them into your back pocket.

“We’re in the kitchen.” You spoke up, dragging your thumb over your bottom lip, collecting the rest of her juices to lick away before gazing in her direction, “We’ll be finishing this later.”

She blushingly smiled, trying to hide it as soon as Billy and Tommy rushed through the swinging door with pure excitement on their faces.

You made her needy, sick thoughts begin to wander, anticipating sundown when the kids are tucked away in bed, peacefully asleep while their moms finally have some alone time. 

Wanda Maximoff Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @wandsmxmff @cantthinkofauserlololol @pikachupepito2 @Natashamacimoff69 @likefirenrain @olsensnpm @cristin-rjd @demxnicprxncess @acimadetudorubron

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[shiftythrifting]

Wasn’t sure where to put this cause it’s not really a submission but I ordered two beet poot pins for my bf and I and it came with a recipe card so we made the recipe - also included a photo of my bf and his friend shoving their phones into the frame to “help me with lighting” lol (also I haven’t logged into this tumblr account since middle school so genuinely I have no idea what the profile pic is lol)

Yooooo that looks amazing! I love when folks make the recipes!

[jo-harrington]

You don't have time for Christmas.

Work and home and this friend in a crisis.

Work and home and, let's be honest, probably work again.

And before you know it, it's December 20th and you don't even have any decorations up. Barely anyone does. The neighborhoods that are usually lit up with lights and figurines enough to rival the Griswolds are noticably dark this year.

What holiday? What festivity? It's wake up and hustle and lay in bed in a dreamless sleep. Then wake up to do it all again.

You are a cog in a machine.

You don't know how to voice these things, your displeasure, the secret yearning for the pomp and circumstance and childhood whimsy for the holiday season that's tucked somewhere deep inside your weary body. You can't bring yourself to indulge in it.

You're tired.

You glance down the card aisle at the grocery store but don't stop to grab any for friends. You pick up a bag of peanut butter bells for your candy jar at work but then second guess it at the checkout. Gifts are bought with as much care as you could, but you can't even bother to wrap them as prettily as you usually would.

You can try again for Valentine's. Chocolate hearts with the crispy rice inside and roses for your coworkers. Something.

But this year, you don't have time for Christmas.

And he notices.

It starts with cookies.

He likes to bake--started with boxed cake mix and then you bought him a handheld torch one year so he could try his hand at creme brûlée after he watched a little too much Jacques Pepin on PBS--so it's not anything suspicious. No ulterior motives detected.

Only he's dug up the little handwritten notebook full of your grandma's favorite recipes. Grandpa's handwriting because he wrote it while she dictated. Cookies he's never tasted before himself but seemed to have nailed exactly the way she made them. The love he poured into the treats matched hers exactly.

He brings you a plate and a cup of cocoa when you come home and collapse on the couch.

You cry when you eat them. And he lets you.

Then he digs out the tree from the garage.

The one-car garage that you pay extra for doesn't fit either of your vehicles but fits all your crap. You both vow to clean up at some point and never do. He slogs through the boxes of old band tees that don't fit him and kitchen crap that you don't miss or really need, to get to the plastic 6 ft tree that used to have stickers to note which bough went in what slot but those are long gone.

He spends hours figuring it out and decorating it, and imagine your surprise when you come home to an otherwise-dark apartment illuminated by the fat, colorful incandescent bulbs that you're sure he spent a significant amount of time untangling. You'd both given up last year and went without lights. But there they are.

"What?" you drop your bag by the door. "What is this?"

"I dunno," he grins proudly. "Thought it would be nice. Get in the Christmas spirit. Saved the star for you to put on top if you want."

And you did. You wanted it so bad. Ever since you were a kid, you were the one to put the star on top of the tree.

After it's up, you marvel at the special care he's taken with the important ornaments. Fragile little wooden ones from your grandma, popsicle stick frames with baby pictures of both of you, a macaroni snowman that he gave his mom once-upon-a-time that his uncle had stashed away, and then a fancy hallmark one you got the year you moved in together.

They all have special places on the tree and tell a story of your lives, separate and then together.

You both lay under the tree that night, staring up at the glittering lights as you hold hands.

Finally it's Christmas Eve. Which to him really meant nothing, but to you meant the world. Christmas Days were spent with individual families but Christmas Eves of old meant a big dinner and time spent with your cousins and It's a Wonderful Life on the TV.

It's a tradition that got put to the wayside as everyone got too old and too tired. As you started getting scheduled to work, like this year. And it's almost worse this year, as you've done a stretch of you-can't-remember-how-many days, that you even turned down an invitation for the two of you from your mom for a small dinner with her.

You're exhausted by the time you get home and, more than anything, you're looking forward to the day off tomorrow.

Not the holiday. The day off.

Still, you remember to bring in the handful of gifts from their hiding place in your trunk. You don't really do gifts between the two of you anymore. Nothing big at least. Just a cheesy little thing. Something fun, not something serious. But you did a little more this year than you usually would--all of the OT you'd clocked for one, and too many things you saw that you knew would make him smile for another.

You try to tip toe into the house as quietly as possible so you can throw the boxes under the tree and shower but he's vigilant. He's been at the stove cooking for a while, and he greets you at the door as you shut it behind you.

"I thought we said no big gifts," he admonishes you and snatches the boxes from your hands. The wrapping paper isn't festive--just brown craft paper you stole borrowed from work since you wrapped on your lunch--but you managed to slap on some red and green bows from the drugstore that you grabbed the other day.

"They're not big," you explained. "I promise."

"Well neither are mine," he winked.

You slap a hand against his chest and then give him a kiss in greeting and thanks.

"One better be the RC racer I wanted when I was nine," he mutters against your lips.

"Hmmm, you're just gonna have to wait," you tell him. "And no shaking the boxes.

You're almost a little ticked off'; one of them is the RC racer.

You kick off your shoes as the smell finally hits you.

Dinner.

Thick and savory and fragrant.

Some kind of fish and roasted potatoes and the starchiness of a pasta and the tang of its sauce.

Recipes, again, taken from your grandma's little notebook. They stir something deep inside of you. That yearning you never voiced.

The weariness that's been slowly building within you finally comes to a head when you make it to the kitchen and see the pots and pans and two plates already portioned out.

An ice cold beer for him, and a Shirley temple, extra cherries, for you.

"Remember when you told me," he comes up behind you and his arms snake around your midsection, "that you and your cousins would sneak extra maraschino cherries from the fridge when your gram wasn't looking. And then she went to go get them for the pistachio salad and they were gone."

Your knees shake and you practically collapse against him.

"Speaking of which, there is a pistachio salad in the fridge for dessert."

"Why?" you sniff.

"Because that's actually my favorite, so sorry to your grandma's tiramisu." He pecks a kiss to the side of your head and rocks you back and forth. "But if you want to make that for New Year's Eve, I won't say no."

"No," you let out a watery laugh. "Why are you so good to me, why did you do all of this?"

"Because I know it's been a hard few weeks. Few months." You can feel him shrug. "Fuck, it's been hard for me too but...I know this is one of your favorite parts of the year and you just...haven't been in the spirit for it. So whatever I could do to make it happen for you..."

You turn in his arms and bury your face in his shoulder, in his neck, so he doesn't see your tears. Again. Worse this time as you begin to shake from your sobs. He shushes you, runs a hand over your back, and leaves kiss after kiss against your head.

"Baby, I'll do anything for you," he tells you, voice thick with emotion. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," you whine against his skin. "I'm so...so happy."

"Good."

"Thank you," you repeat it over and over again until it feels like you're empty of all the void and indifference that have filled you for the past few months are gone. In their place just...love and gratitude for him.

"Merry Christmas baby. I love you."

"I love you too, Merry Christmas."

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: The pain medication given to Bob after a training accident has some interesting, albeit endearing, side effects.

As you weave your way through the people, desperate to make it to the front desk, the words kept playing over and over in your mind.

Training accident. Had to eject.

The strong possibility always hung over in your mind, taunting you whenever he went to work. That one day you would receive that dreaded phone call.

And while you didn't get that phone call today the fact you came close was unnerving.

Hurt pretty bad. Needed surgery.

Your throat felt thick, as though you were almost choking on air. It was a surprise you could audibly tell the nurse at the front desk your name.

"He's still in surgery, Mrs. Floyd. You can wait in the lobby and we'll alert you when he's done."

Nodding because of your fear that if you spoke, the tears would spill out, you sat down in the uncomfortable chair.

You tried to people watch, see if you could spot someone you knew, who Bob knew. Tell you what happened.

But did you really want those horrible details?

No. You wanted to know that your husband was okay. That he would recover. That he would be back in your arms, where he belonged.

You could call his mom and sister, let them know what was happening. It could be comforting to hear their voices.

But it would also remind you that your husband was hurt and you didn't know if he was okay.

So instead, your fingers fiddled with his wedding ring that hung on the silver chain around your neck. He always gave it to you when he had missions.

That way you had a piece of him if anything happened.

"Mrs. Floyd?" You looked up to see a nurse standing near you.

"Your husband is all done with his surgery, he's-"

"Is he okay? How did his surgery go? Can I go see him?" The nurse took a step back at your numerous questions.

"His surgery went well. He's currently hopped on a lot of medication to reduce the pain, so he may be out of it. Once the doctor is done, you can go see him."

The next ten minutes were somehow even worse. Knowing Bob was so close, but not able to see him was absolute torture.

You practically ran when the nurse said he was ready for visitors.

The sight of Bob, eyes closed as he laid in the hospital bed, bandages covering his arms, hooked up to an IV bag was heartbreaking. Despite his tall, broad frame, he looked so small in that bed.

Maybe you should sit by the bed and wait for him to wake up. What even are the standard protocols when your husband has to eject from his plane and gets injured in the process?

Your feet had a mind of their own, bringing you to the bed. Then your hands had their own idea, reaching up to card your fingers through his ruffled dark blonde locks.

His shifted towards your touch, those beautiful blue eyes still closed.

"Hey love," you whispered before pressing your lips to his forehead. Seeing the rise of his chest with each breath brought you comfort; he was here, he came back to you, just like he promised.

A confused, drowsy hum left his lips as his eyes slowly opened.

"Robby?" You should take a step break. Should give him space.

But how could you, when those eyes deeper than the ocean looked up at you?

"Robby!" You all but threw yourself at him, burying your head into his neck, the comforting scent of sage filling your nostrils, "I'm so glad you're safe, I was beside myself when they called."

"I-huh?" His voice was drowsy and full of confusion. Makes sense, considering when he was last conscious, he was in a fighter jet, thousands of feet up in the air.

"Doctors say if you keep up your current trajectory, you'll be able to go home tomorrow. Gives me time to get your favorite meal ready."

"Beef Goulash?" Bob mumbled, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Of course! Your mom's recipe." You pressed your lips against one of his red cheeks before capturing his lips with yours. You couldn't help it. Your husband had survived, he was right there. How could you not kiss him?

"Am I in heaven?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Bob's question, shaking your head as you kissed him again.

"No Robby, you're at the Miramar Hospital."

Bob pulled away, confusion written all over his face, "But....you're an angel?"

You shook your head again, but without laughing this time, "Robby. You okay?"

"I.....I was in the air and Phoenix, she kept telling me to eject and I think I did? Then I woke up and you're....you're here and wow. You're stunning."

Your stomach fluttered at his compliment, "Of course I'm here," you grabbed the hand that wasn't hooked up to an IV bag, "What kind of wife would I be if I wasn't?"

Bob's nearly widened, "Wife? Did you say wife?"

Oh boy.

"Yes, I'm your wife. We got the rings and everything." You held up your hand, showing the gold wedding band, which matched the one Bob wore.

"We're married?" His eyes were as wide as saucers, hope and confusion dancing along those oceanic irises.

"We are. Have been for five years now."

"Five years?!" Bob put his hand over his heart, as if he were afraid of it jumping out of his chest, "Wow. I bet those five years have been wonderful."

"They have! And I will tell you all about them, after I get the nurse!"

You began moving to get up when a large hand grabbed yours.

"Wait!" You stopped to look at Bob, "Are you.....are you sure you're my wife? Not that I'm complaining it's just you're so beautiful and lovely and I....I'm....just Bob."

So the pain medication could make him temporarily forget you, but not his insecurities? Go figure.

"No, you are not just Bob. You are the smartest, sweetest, kindest, most amazing man I have ever met. You're a wonderful husband and father, and every day I'm thankful I get to wake up next to you."

A small albeit sweet lopsided smile appeared on Bob's face, before his eyes widened once again, "Wait....did you did you say father?"

You couldn't help but giggle, "Yes. You are the father to three cats, two dogs, a rabbit, and three amazing kids."

"I am? With you?" His body was practically buzzing with excitement. His eyes were shining so brightly as he looked at you in pure amazement.

"You are. In fact, we were working on our fourth kid before all this," You smiled slyly as your fingers reached over his forearms.

"We-oh. Oh. We were-we did-um, I'm just wow I'm just going to lie down, oh look there's a bed."

The nurses rushed in upon hearing the heart rate monitor increase.

One even asked, "What did you do?!"

"Told him he was married with children."

************************************

The next day, the nurses alerted you that after the pain medication had worn off, Bob did remember you as his wife.

According to them, he wouldn't stop talking about you.

"My wife! There she is!" You smiled at hearing Bob's cheerful voice, knowing he was there, safe and sound.

"Hey hot stuff, you ready to go home? Mack has been asking when you'll show the Wizard of Oz," you paused, "You know Mack? Our daughter?"

Bob chuckles while shaking his head, "Yes. I remember all my children, as well as my amazing wife."

"Good, though I was looking forward to you recreating our first date. Was hoping you would kiss me this time."

Bob pulled you into his lap, his hands cupping your face, "Guess I'll just have to kiss you for the rest of my life to make up for it."

His lips pressed against yours briefly before moving to your cheeks, then your forehead, then to your nose.

"I think I can deal with that," you giggled as he continued to pepper your face with light kisses.

"Me too darlin. Me too."

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||His Love Language

I love cozy scenarios. Fiction. And Chai.

Now, Alastor is very charming, he's the type of sinner demon who attracts everyone in the room, but since he's an aromatic and asexual it's almost uncommon for him to feel romantic attraction, so, that's why the moment he began spending time with you, he felt the world around him changing to something more uncertain and colorful.

New feelings he didn't know what to write about began spiraling out of his control.

But more than romantic attraction he finds himself fiercely protective about your wellbeing. If it's in hell he would probably not allow you to leave the hotel because he knows how messed up the place is, he'll bring you books if you like to read.

His love language is Acts of Service.

He's almost uncomfortable with physical touch, and you don't push it either, which is very appreciated.

He cooks for you, any dish you like, or if it's a foreign recipe all you need is to show him the cookbook, if you're feeling homesick and want to eat something you ate in your native, he'll cook that splendidly for you.

Since, he's so against refrigerated food, canned food, and lazy food in general he'll make sure you don't have to look into those options again, all you need to do is ask him to make something.

Since, your human he'll keep a water bottle full beside your bedside table at all times.

His voice is radio like, and it calms your anxious thoughts a lot, that's why you have a basket full of audios at all times, he's a sinner demon his usual broadcasts consist of souls being torn away.

But, if you want a comfort audio, or just a reminder of him when he goes for long periods of time, he'll gladly make them for you totally getting flattered.

He spoils you rotten since everything appears in a snap of his fingers he'll bring them over for you, if you just ask.

He's not completely against physical touch, there are moments where he'll stroke your hair, or let you lay against his frame as you find yourself in troublesome nights.

He's a wonderful listener, he'll listen to your rants, your thoughts, any experiences if you want to share, he'll listen to you patiently.

His patience makes you so comfortable around him, since he really cares for you, he won't ever yell or take his anger out on you.

His smiles are genuine around you, everything about you makes his sinner heart soften up like a warm blanket.

You will not ever need to worry about someone hurting you, this overlord literally gives all the sinners nightmares, it sends chills down their spine. He's very protective.

You won't believe that even in hell, Alastor can make you feel so comfortable, and cared for, everything about his actions won't make you doubt his authenticity. Because you're the only one he'll openly do these things for you, so welcoming. Without making any deals with you.

He'll even watch movies, in that 'noisy picture box' as he calls it, and sometimes even put you to sleep if you're that anxious.

He's a trump card you won't regret as your partner.

[world-of-aus]

Business as Usual

Pairing: Baker!Reader x Biker!Bucky

Warnings: A pinch of angst..

A/n: I’m in a biker!bucky funk and I am absolutely here for it. I am writing pieces that have me in a chokehold and that I know I will see through to the end. I hope you enjoy this first part to a two part piece!

The bakery was a quiet hum as your regulars moved throughout your store looking into the glass cases and wooden shelves for their favorite treats. You took notice of their hurried movements as their eyes went from the delectable treats you had made midmorning, to the grandfather clock that rested just at the back of your store. It was a monthly occurrence; your regulars rushing in to grab the baked goods before they came.

The 107.

You had only heard of them in passing before you had made the decision to open a second shop here in the heart of Brooklyn. Now they were all you heard of; their names whispered throughout your shop as the locals grabbed their baked goods from you. You had been warned of them plenty before you had signed your name on the dotted line to take owner ship of this place. Many advising against the purchase saying you’d be paying more than you’d be making.

How wrong they had been.

While yes, the price to have a shop on their street was a pretty one, most of the money you willingly gave over to them in a manila folder at the beginning of the month always found its way back to you.  You see the men of the 107 appreciated the service you provided to their people, enjoyed the welcoming environment you provided to those that stopped in for a visit. This is partially the reason why on the first of the month you now find yourself closing shop early to invite the bikers in.

The first of your regulars finds you at the register, a warm smile on her lips as she passes you the white paper bag. “Is this all,” you question as you place the bagged sweets on the scale. “Oh yes,” she chirps, “don’t want to grab to many sweets or I won’t have reason to come in later this week!” That brings a smile to your lips as you state her the price, accepting her card as you pass her the bag. “Well, you know I always look forward to our meetings I'll be waiting to see you later this week, hopefully with a new recipe for you to try,” you say as you pass her her receipt and card promising to see her soon as the next one in line takes her spot.

It’s like that till your bidding the last of your usual’s a farewell as you pass them their bag of treats with the same promise to see them later in the week. After the last toll is heard through your shop you're moving from behind the register to the front of the shop where you flip the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. You then twist the locks knowing that your visitors will be letting themselves in with their own copy of your shops key.  

You move back past the register pushing open the kitchens door as you make your way to the counter to fetch your new recipe that waits for you plated. As you reach for the plated desserts the gong of your grandfather clock can be heard through the shop, it was time. Picking up the plate you move over to the swinging door, kicking it open as you pushed through. Resting the plate next to the register you reached down to the shelves below to grab the manila folder that had been waiting weeks to be picked up.

At the same time that you push to full height you can see their frames fill your doorway, their boisterous laughter sounding through the locked door as they use their copy to let themselves in. The noise fills your shop almost instantly as they give you their warmest welcomes, a warm smile finding your lips as you give them your own welcomed greeting, your eyes locking with his as he leads his group in.

Steve and Sam are the last ones in, Steve’s fingers going for the locks as they all crowd you at the register. His frame is always closest to you; guarding, grounding, it’s an odd comparison to the man you met at your first encounter with one another.

“Is the lock really necessary,” you question to stop yourself from putting your full focus on him, there would be time for that soon enough. “I’ve got nothing to keep from any of you, heck I send you out of here every month with more than what you came for,” you add with a soft laugh. Steve is coming up the center Sam in tow as they flank Bucky, “Sorry y/n, bosses orders, you know we can never be too cautious” Steve answers easily with a smile. “Of course,” you confirm, with an easy smile of your own “so business as usual?”

This time you will your eyes to meet his, the ocean greys capturing you almost instantly, a nod to his head, a smirk kissing the corner of his mouth. It’s like clockwork, your hands grabbing the envelope to pass it to him, fingers brushing for a brief second before he’s passing the manila folder over to Steve. The plate goes next the treats you baked up earlier before their arrival being passed down but not before he grabs one for himself.

“New recipe,” he questions as he looks over the baked dessert.

Your smile pulls a little higher, “been wanting to add this recipe to my shelves for awhile now,” you say as you watch the rest of the 107 fill your bakeries tables, “couldn’t quite get it right though, but I think I may have finally perfected it.”

Moritas throaty groan fills the air then,  his palm smacking the table top he’s sat at with the others, Bucky throws him a glare but the man can’t be bothered as he praises the dessert through a mouth half full. You can’t help but to laugh offering him and the others in the room their choice of beverage from the coolers off to the side, “there’s freshly brewed coffee as well,” you throw in.

“Y/n,” Bucky warns but it falls on deaf ears as you wave him off beckoning him over to the office, “it’ll be quieter in there,” you add as you move away from the register and to your half-opened office door. You can hear Bucky send out a warning to his men, one that’s met with a quiet huff as the men indulge in the sweet drinks and an even sweeter pastry. You round your desk taking a seat on the soft cushion as you wait for the broad, short-haired brunette to enter your office; he doesn’t have you wait long.

You watch as he fills your doorway before the office door is being swung shut behind him, his large frame occupying the soft leathered cushioned chair before you. He relaxes into the seat, a warm smile kissing his pink lips as he takes you in, “how’ve you been sweetheart, any trouble?”

A warmth blooms in your chest, a sweetness for the man before you settling over your features as you adjust yourself in your chair, “The only trouble is you locking that door on your visits, you know how many customers come in after your visit just to make sure I’m still breathing?”

That draws a hearty laugh from the man before you, “you sure they’re not wandering in for the new pastries you set out after every visit?”

Your smile draws wider soft laughter bubbling past your lips, “can’t just put anything on those shelves you know, need to make sure they’re 107 approved – are they,” you question looking down at the untouched dessert still held in his hand.

You try to hold his gaze as he brings your newly baked recipe up to his lips, not letting your eyes drop down to his lips. He must know by now the effect he has on you as his eyes slip shut, lips closing on a hum as he lets the good settle on his tongue.  

“So,” you question choked, “how is it – good?”

His eyes slip open, lips upturning on a smirk, “107 approved,” he hums, “just like the baker who baked them.”

Heat floods your cheeks as you smile softly at the man before you, “you think the regulars will like them?”

His chuckle resonates through the small office as he finishes off the small pastry, “if these don’t sell out the first day I'll have Steve drop by to buy them all off of you, I’m sure Morita will work through these within an hour all on his own.”

“Or I could save you the trouble of driving in and just go drop off what doesn’t sell that day, I'd rather it go in someone’s belly then the trashbin out back.”

You can’t quite read the look that crosses over his features and for a moment you wonder if you might have overstepped. “You’re not worried?”

Your brows furrow, “now what would I be worried about Barnes,” you question with a tilt of your head.

“You know what comes with the likes of knowing us, being seen around us, you ain’t worried about that, worried about your name, the shops name being spread around in bad light?” You can’t stop the soft chuckle that leaves your lips, head shaking as you lean it back against the soft cushion of your office chair. “Barnes I have about 8 bikes lined up outside of my shop right now, and its not just any bikes it’s the 107, and they’re out there every first of the month just like they are now –  wouldn’t you say I’m past being worried about being seen with you, knowing you?”

There’s another unknowing look that crosses his features and this time you know you’ve overstepped when he begins to speak. “Our bikes lined out there every first of the month speaks volumes to the reputation we’ve built, we’ve instilled fear into our people, it’s know that as long as they don’t cross us they’re taken care of but we catch them slipping and that’s the end for them – you don’t want to be known for knowing us, it’s not good for you.”

Rejection settles over you and like a dog with its tail tucked between your legs you’re pulling a smile forcing out a laugh as you shake your head in agreement. “You’re right,” you say, “y/n,” he tries but you don’t hear it as you push off your chair needing to be out of this office.

“No, you’re right, this is just business, that’s what it’s always been and I guess for a moment I forgot.”

“Y/n,” he tries again as he pushes off his chair wanting to stop you, “shall we go and see if the amount is correct, surely Steve and Sam counted through it already,” you say as you side step him to get the door pulled open.

You’re stepping out into the bakery all eyes on you as you pull a smile for them, “so is it all there,” you question as you step closer to them, Bucky trailing like a looming shadow behind you.

Sam and Steve pull a smile but you can see there questioning gaze behind the kind eyes they give you. “Of course it is sweetheart, you’ve never been wrong with us.”

“Well let’s hope I never am,” you laugh though it sounds forced, “say how was the dessert, is it 107 approved, I’d really like to get them out on my shelves but I need the stamp of approval.”

That seems to ease the growing tension, the room now a light buzz as the men in their earned leather all praise your baked good. “That’s wonderful,” you smile this one not forced, “say Morita would it be okay if sent whatever is left over of the baked goods with your ma, I really wouldn’t want them to go to waste, maybe you can take them to the club with you.”

“You can send whatever you want with ma,” Morita grins, “just set her up with a bill will ya, I'll get it for her at the beginning of the month.”

You’re shaking your head, “it’s on the house, no really,” you add when he gives you a look, “I’d rather it go with your ma knowing it’ll reach you all then to have to chuck them in the trashbin out back.”

Morita lets out air, “are you sure – won't this set you back?”

“You know this isn’t my only shop right? I’d really rather send it with you all, no charge, unless y’all are feeling nice enough to knock a few bucks off for next month,” you add with a grin.

There laughter meets your ear, “we shouldn’t be charging you at all with all that you do for us, and our people,” Bucky speaks up, and you make yourself keep the smile on your lips as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “It’s business,” you find yourself saying, “you’ve got an image to up keep and people to take care of, I can respect that.”

Bucky wants to say more, to apologize for how his words sounded in the office, but you won’t hear it as you clap your hands together softly, “well If all the money is there, and you’ve enjoyed the sweets and refreshments I really shouldn’t keep you all any longer, surely you all have more important business to get too.”

The group can tell something is off with you, but they don’t push as they all offer to help you clean the mess, “nonsense,” you wave them off, “y’all go ahead, besides cleaning up shop and shelving the new desserts is my way to unwind after a long day.”

“Y/n,” Bucky tries, and you’re looking at him again tired smile on your lips, “it’s alright Barnes, y’all go ahead, I'll see you at the first of the month.”

The brunette doesn’t want to push you any further, hurt your more than he knows he’s hurt you with his words in your office so he sends his men off, his body straggling by your side as you see them all to the door. He turns to you, wanting to offer you something, anything, hell he would take you to the clubhouse right now if it meant he could put a genuine smile on your face.

“Buck, it's okay,” you offer with a hand to his arm, a smile to your lips, “go, I'll see you soon.” You’re turning to go back into the shop before he can get anything else out. The lock sliding into place meeting his ear; it's time to go. He turns to his group, Steve and Sam’s gaze already waiting, “what did you do man?” Bucky shakes his head as he goes to his bike, mounting it; “call Nat and Wanda, I want them to come check on her.”

“Buck what did you -”

“That’s an order Rogers.”

“Bucky was never really known for having a way with words.”

You scoff over the cup of hot chocolate in front of you, “please him never having a way with words, have you seen the women that throw themselves at him and the 107, their clubhouse is packed with them.”

“What Nat means is that he doesn’t really know how to express his concerns around those he loves,” Wanda reiterates with a hand over yours.

You shake your head, finger running along the rim of your mug, “I don’t know Wands maybe I was reading too much into all of this, maybe it has always just been business as regular and I let my feelings cloud my judgement of their visits.”

“If it were just business as usual you really think he would have Steve call me and Wanda to come check on you,” Natasha questions, “he cares about you y/n, and he’s just worried about you getting caught up in his life.”

“It’s not an easy one,” Wanda adds, “there’s always going to be a target on your back, and it's not only the club he’s going to have to worry about then, you’ll also become his focus.”

“And it seems you already are,” Natasha agrees.

The rejection from earlier rears its ugly head as you grab your mug from the register, it was only getting later in the evening and if you were planning on having an early start you’d need to head home soon. “I don’t know girls, while I appreciate him asking the two of you to stop by, he probably only did so to make sure we were okay since I didn’t really give him a chance earlier.”

“Y/n,” Natasha sighs, but you offer her a tired smile, “I’m fine girls really, you can let Buck and the boys know there was no harm done, and it’s like I told them earlier I’m going to see them at the first of the month like I always have, that’s not going to change, business as usual,” you throw in bitterly.

“Y/n,” Wanda repeats with a raised brow, you shake your head, “please drop it, its late and I have an early start tomorrow if I want to get my new recipe plated so I'd really like to get home soon, just tell Bucky that I'm fine, I'll be fine.”

The girls know not to push you, both of them squeezing you tight as you see them out, the door locking behind them as the two make their way down the empty walkway. They round the stop sign at the end of the street, there forms closing in on the three waiting men.

“How was she,” Bucky questions as the two close in on them, Natasha shakes her head, Bucky sighs all but ready to go over there himself but the redhead is stopping him with a hand to his arm. “It’s late, she’s tired, there’s no point in going over there now, she’s as understanding as her stubbornness will allow her to be.”

“Give her a day,” Wanda adds as she slides on behind Sam, “then get your shit together,” Sam mutters as he kicks up his stand. “She’s not as weak as you think she is,” Natasha murmurs as she slips on behind Steve, “if you’re worried about her not being able to handle her own, you're worrying about the wrong thing.”

[adobe-outdesign]

DHMIS Easter Eggs and Background Details

A huge list of a bunch of background details, foreshadowing, and Easter Eggs I noticed on my second watch-through. Note that I’m only including things that are fairly obscure, rather than “obvious” items others have already pointed out (so I’m not including the symbol sightings, for example). Feel free to add on with anything I missed.

Episode 1

In the theme song, Red Guy is “you”, which makes sense as he’s usually the audience surrogate character

Among the briefcase’s papers is a sticky note with 1906 on it

Right as the briefcase leaves, the last line is “you can be the ones who dig a hole for a funeral” as foreshadowing to the next episode

Everyone’s name tag in the factory has their name except for Yellow’s, which just says “employee”

When Bird is talking to Red in the office, he says that they’ve only been there for “9 minutes”. This is at the 14 minute mark and they got to Peterson’s at 5 minutes in, so they have indeed been there 9 minutes

According to the Carehound poster, Peterson’s is closed Mon–Sat and is open for exactly 4 minutes at 10 PM on Sun

Red Guy framed and hung the fax the fax machine gave him on the wall

Before the song starts the briefcase is rushing off to his job, but when the song ends he tells Brendon it’s time for his bath (as in, they’re going home). Meaning that teaching/torturing the puppets was the job he was rushing off to

Episode 2

The orange with eyes that was in the very first DHMIS short is in the BG when Red checks his ID card

The gel teacher appears as an inanimate object while Duck’s in the bathroom during the Big Day song

The tissue box says “sad squares” on it

Yellow’s red overalls from the ending of the DHMIS 6 short appear on his bed

The make your new friend box claims the new friend is not, in fact, toilet trained

The cassette that Duck plays is the same song from the end credits

Stain mentions “some people think we’re in a simulation” during their song, which references both the end of the OG series and episode 6 of this show

The shovel at the end of this episode cameos at the end of the original DHMIS 6 short as a teacher

There are a bunch of maggots by real!Bird’s feet at the end before they start the song

Episode 3

The Chuddle Dollops are “warm lasagna flavor”

Lillie and Todney switch their shirts from brown to black and white stripes while at their house for some reason

The picture Todney holds up appears to show Yellow holding a very Dead Duck by the leg

When Todney and Lillie are measuring their heights, the names on the wall are “grandma”, “Todney” and “Lily” (spelled with a Y)

When they measure Yellow’s height, they also measure his feet. They’re getting his measurements so they know what size to make the outfit they stick him in later

Duck has the toasted bread slice child from earlier on the table when Red drops in

Episode 4

That triangle thing from the original series shows up on the bookshelf early on

The apple teacher from the last episode also shows up on the shelf, surprisingly not eaten

The pamphlets Warren holds up for the restaurant-style meal include one for Grolton’s Chiken

The trio’s digital style avatars from DHMIS 4 show up in the BG when they go online as well as the “nothing” sign from 2 and the clown painting from 1

There’s a phone in every ep so far, probably as a reference to the role phones played in the OG series. A phone ringing is what leads Red into the office in 1, Red says you have to schedule to use the phone in 2, Lily and Todney cut the landline in 3, and there’s a phone in Yellow’s brain that Warren uses to order food

The search results on Colin include “long faced individuals in YOUR area - looking to chat!” and “long faced man VS horse - the ultimate long face showdown!”

Episode 5

The recipe note on the fridge says “rat shin”, “pie”, and “egg soup”

The photo in the kitchen background changes to a different photo each ep

Bird’s clipboard includes “one Jason” at the bottom

Bird individually counting tiles instead of counting it as one floor is valid considering the floor extends infinitely during the blackout in 6

If I’m not mistaken Red walking into another room is the first time that’s ever happened in either the show or the shorts. Usually it just cuts to them already in a different room

There’s another phone on the wall in the living room

The train teacher’s eyebrows fall off in bike form and remain gone while in car form

Mullhoven’s name is on a signpost (and the teacher) during a song transition, and the poster under it says that this is a “neighborhood watch area” with a picture of a woman (maybe meant to be Lelsey? though it doesn’t look much like her)

Roy’s face is on a pirate flag

1906 reference on the second bus, which reads “terminal 196″ in all of the destination windows

The car has a worm button in it

Bird says “we’ve already seen a dead horse”, even though they haven’t

Mini-Tony on the dashboard

Time Child’s digital clock reads 19:06

Mulhoven is spelled differently every time it shows up

Some of the Mulhoven signs include “Nice Hair”, “Nice Road”, and “It’s shoes”

Another sign says “Quiz Night Fun: Every Morning (It’s fun!)”

People have pointed out the Roy cameo in the neighbors shot, but Duck is also a few windows down

One character is dressed like Lily (blonde girl with striped shirt and a red letter), though the letter appears to be “I” instead of “L”

Episode 6

The bill is from Roy-Electric and it’s for 19.06 pounds

Electracey’s last two numbers on her neck are 96

Final phone is the fake phone with a real phone in it. Duck also has a phone during the blackout

Drawing with the dead Duck from Episode 5 of the OG series pops up in the BG during the shredder scene

Crossword includes “Roy”, “gravel” (a nod to DHMIS 3), and “aspic” (DHMIS 5)

When Electracey is malfunctioning the sunlight outside flickers with the indoor lights, hinting at the dollhouse thing

One of the chalkboard drawings says “aspic” and another says “Roy”

Clayhill is also on the chalkboard but scribbled out

The electric clock in the house reads “20:06″ (as in June 20th)

The urn that Red smashes has Duck’s face on it, meaning it’s once again another dead Duck

Sketchbook is lying dead beside the other teachers in front of the fridge

The fridge from the opening also shows up, with the same character pictures (and Duck with a powerdrill, the one used for Stain in episode 2)

There’s a decapitated Duck with a TV where the head should be, which lines up with Yellow breaking the doll in the next scene

The symbols on the book are as follows: Red’s eyes, decapitated Duck and Yellow heads (Yellow’s showing him with wires instead of blood), Roy coin from Ep 1 with a worm, battery with a worm, shovel, Tony, and Yellow’s severed hand from Ep 1

[tickletastic]

Tomato Red

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Liam/Theo, Mason/Corey

Summary: Theo's gotten more comfortable with touch, which seems to mean forgetting to hide the fact that he's ticklish.

Leaning over the counter, squinting down at the recipe card, scrawled years ago by Jenna Dunbar, Theo reaches for the measuring cup, walking Corey through the process of making fresh pasta sauce from Jenna’s fresh garden tomatoes. Corey was a disaster in the kitchen, but he got pretty good at the small stuff with Theo’s lessons, and after mastering alfredo, Theo figured tomato sauce wasn’t too much of a stretch. Corey watched patiently, nodding when Theo introduced him to a new ingredient or method, obediently grabbing every ingredient as Theo asked for them.  

Mason had wanted to learn too, to watch Theo’s mastery as he carefully guided Corey through the process, but Liam managed to goad him into a Mario Kart tournament, with a promise of free coffee for the next week if Mason could beat him. The two of them hunched over each other at the kitchen table, both trying to understand the chaos of the race on the Switch’s small screen, cursing and bickering as they kept passing each other by. Mason insisted on using the living room’s flatscreen to play, but Liam made an excuse and said he wanted to supervise Theo’s lesson, though Mason figured it had something to do with Theo’s reading glasses and the fact that the veins in his arms grew more visible the more he concentrated on the recipe. 

As the match comes to a close, Mason huffs through his nose, leaning back in the creaky wooden chair, declaring he needs a break lest he need glasses for his squinting. Theo sends him a playful glare, and Corey teases Theo about the thick black frames on his nose, reaching to smudge a fingerprint on them before Theo swats him away. They go back and forth, laughing and chiding each other on, until Theo rolls his eyes and turns back to the recipe card in his hand. 

“Would you grab the flour?”

Corey nods, but his mischievous smile is hidden from Theo, and, when he rounds Theo to reach for the flour in the cupboard, he tweaks the older boy’s side. Theo giggles–really, truly giggles– and jerks away from the offending hand. When Corey leans back in, getting Theo in the ribs, Theo just giggles and squirms like this is a normal occurrence, like he’s forgetting to be embarrassed by the sincerity of the interaction. 

When Theo effectively squirms away from Corey’s teasing fingers, a ghost of a smile on his lips, he notices the room has gone eerily silent, save for the annoyingly catchy Mario Kart menu music. He slowly turns around, suddenly self-conscious, and is met with the wide-eyed gazes of Liam and Mason, prompting a blush all the way up to his ears. 

Liam is, first and foremost, proud that they have managed to get Theo to a point where he doesn’t think twice about a friendly touch, doesn’t even flinch when he sees it coming from the corner of his eye, even lets it happen. Months ago, Theo would’ve tensed up at the slightest touch, would’ve made an excuse to leave, would’ve lashed out, but they’ve gotten to a point where he welcomes it, lets Corey tickle him playfully in the middle of a cooking lesson. He is, secondly, entirely too endeared by Theo’s brief, shrill giggle, the way he squirmed and wiggled away, the adorable lopsided smile that pulled at his lips. And finally, he is, of course, also delighted to find out that Theo is, seemingly, pretty damn ticklish. 

When Theo sees the mischief on Liam’s face, and the matching grin on Corey’s, he runs, but he’s nowhere near scared or nervous; Liam can smell the playful chemosignals in the air. In seconds, all hell breaks loose: Theo makes a dash towards the door, narrowly stopped by Corey and Liam blocking the exit, the kitchen chair Liam had sat in ending up on the floor, the flour forgotten on the counter. Theo scurries back to the wall, standing next to the open window, considering his options. His eyes are wide as he looks between Corey and Liam, and he keeps making quick, aborted glances towards the window. As if reading his mind, Liam raises his hands in surrender, and motions to Corey to keep his distance.

“Mason, come get your boyfriend,” Theo tries for a warning tone, but there’s a hint of breathlessness in the demand, a pull of a smile at the corner of his lips.  

From his spot at the table, Mason smirks, shaking his head resolutely, “No can do, dude. I want to see how this goes.”

Theo tries for a glare, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s cowering away from a little tickling. “I’m warning you, Mason. If you don’t collect one of these two, noses will be broken.”

“They have supernatural healing, and one of them has supernatural strength, I think they can handle it,” Mason responds, and there’s something in the flippantness of his tone that makes Theo that much more skittish. 

“Are you sure?” Theo dares to move his eyes from Liam and Corey to quickly glance in Mason’s direction, “because I’m pretty sure that Pretty Boy Corey, here, has never had his nose broken.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Corey teases, and Theo flashes him the finger, sticking his tongue out like a child.

“You’re so going to regret that in five minutes.”

Theo glances at the window, and Liam puts his hands up yet again, gesturing for Corey to back up a bit. “Hey, we won’t do anything, alright? Just stay here.”    

Theo nods hesitantly, taking half a step away from the wall. Liam smiles, taking a tentative step forward, and Theo is bolting back in seconds, a leg hiked out the window. Liam is just in time to grab Theo before he can fold himself out of the window entirely. 

Theo hits the floor with a dull ‘oomph’, quickly straddled by Liam at his hips.

“You are such a drama queen,” Liam says, rolling his eyes, a stupidly goofy, fond grin on his lips. He looks down at Theo with that cute lopsided look, that shiny mischievous glint, and Theo almost gets lost in it, almost forgets that the mischief is directed at him.

“I’m the drama queen? I must’ve learned that from you.” 

“From me? You’re the one-” Liam scoffs incredulously, “you know what? I don’t have to take this from you right now. Corey, come here.”

Corey grinned, rushing over to kneel beside Theo, smiling down menacingly at his best friend, reveling in watching him squirm. “I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

“Fat chance,” Theo huffs, eyebrows tight and pinched, “don’t forget you’re like a million times more sensitive than I am.”

Corey blushes, but tries to ignore Theo’s snark, he’s not the one about to get tickled to pieces afterall. “You sure about that? You’re so ticklish you can’t even say it.”

Theo ducks his head, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks from the teasing. He opens his mouth, hoping to try for something quick and biting, before he’s interrupted by his own boisterous, unbridled cackle. Liam’s wandering fingers tease at Theo’s hipbones, digging in and pinching sporadically. 

Liam laughs in response to Theo’s sudden, boisterous laughter, grinning down as the chimera tries to fight off the tickles. Theo gasps and wiggles, caught between tossing his head back and wanting to watch where Liam’s curious fingers go. The pinching at his hips has him hiccuping, squirming and trying to grab Liam’s hands. 

“Good spot!” Corey praises, his fingers starting to draw slow shapes on Theo’s collarbones, “that’s one of his worst spots, I’d say it’s a solid 8/10.”

“Shuhuhut up!” Theo screeches, grabbing one of Corey’s wrists and holding it hostage. Corey can’t help but laugh, Theo’s control of only one hand of his attackers not doing much at all for his situation, the other three still very much taking him apart.  

“What about here?” Liam asks Corey when his fingers wander up to Theo’s sides, scratching and spidering over the bare skin, exposed from Theo’s struggling. Theo goes from cackling to relentless, bubbly giggles, the stream so steady and unending that Liam worries he’s having trouble breathing. 

“Not as bad, like a six maybe?” Corey says, his brows furrowed in confusion, “but sometimes he-”

Theo takes in too much air all at once, and snorts loudly before filling the room with more breathless giggles. 

Liam can’t stop himself from audibly cooing, even more so once Theo starts to blush even harder, heat radiating off of his skin, “you know? It’s hard to believe we were once so scared of Theo when all it would’ve taken to defeat him is a little tickling.”

“Shuhuhut up! Shuhuhut uhuhup! Shuhuhuhut uhuhup!” Theo squeals, bucking harder as he feels Corey’s free hand wander down, dangerously close to his underarm. 

“Shhh,” Corey grins, leaning down so he can whisper directly into Theo’s ear, “don’t interrupt, the adults are talking.”

By the time Corey’s hand has finished its slow crawl under Theo’s arm, Liam’s hands have moved up to Theo’s ribs, and Theo lets out a sound that could only be described as a shriek, before descending into booming belly laughter. 

“Plehehase! I cahahn’t! I cahan’t!” Theo yells, head thrown back as he pushes against Corey and Liam’s hands. He squirms violently until he can’t anymore, fighting and squealing as Liam and Corey take him apart beneath their fingers. When the squirming tires him out, he’s left twitching and laughing as Corey and Liam go to town. 

“That’s a ten!” Corey exclaims, wiggling his fingers where they’re trapped under Theo’s arm. 

Liam smiles, watching tears of mirth form in Theo’s eyes, “any other ten spots I should know about?”

“Nohoho! No! Ihihim begging! Thihihis is mehehe begging! Please!” Theo shouts, kicking his legs behind Liam.

“Alright, alright,” Liam relents, pulling his fingers away. Corey is not nearly as merciful, and his restricted wiggling under Theo’s arm is what sends the chimera into silent laughter. 

When Theo starts to hiccup, head thrown back in ticklish agony, Liam leans forward and tasers Corey in the ribs, swatting him away while he giggles in response. Corey squirms away, backing up until he’s sitting on the floor next to Mason’s chair. Liam leans down, wiping sweat-slick curls off of Theo’s forehead, tenderly wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.

“You alright?” Liam smiles softly down at Theo, hovering an inch away from his face. 

“I will be,” Theo says, his usual sarcasm returning, “once I get some revenge.”

Before Liam can even react, he’s flipped underneath Theo, their previous positions reversed. A nervous grin breaks out on his face, hands up in front of him as a barrier between himself and Theo. He tries for puppy-dog eyes, but feels the nerves set in when he sees the menacing playfulness Theo shoots him. “Have mercy?”

“Not a chance.” 

[drivinmeinsane]

Hot Chocolate ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day One ※ Officer K / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: It has taken months of trading and seeking but you finally have all the ingredients for a special surprise just in time for the winter holiday.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: K survives, Fluff, Established Relationship, Generic Winter Holiday

※ Word count: 1480

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Gnawing on your lip, you examine the careful line up of ingredients on the counter in front of you. Cocoa powder, honey from K’s bees, salt, milk, vanilla extract, and marshmallows. All real, not fabricated, and painstakingly collected. You’re all too aware of the cost of the items. Everything has to be perfect and it has to rely on your faded memories of a paper recipe card from your childhood. It, along with the rest of the recipe cards in your family’s possession, had eventually been used as tinder for a fire. You sigh, more of a growl than a quiet exhalation of air. 

“I told you not to fuss,” K says from the other room, his voice gradually getting louder as he comes to stand in the doorway. He leans on the frame, finger marking his place in the paperback he’s holding.

You look over at him and are about to lean to block his line of sight to your kitchen project when you realize that his eyes are solely focused on you. Warmth bubbles up in your chest. “And I asked you to stay on the couch.”

He shrugs, unbothered. You approach him, knowing that he will be a silent observer until he gets a scrap of attention. K never asks for it directly. You’re barely to him before the replicant extends his arms and pulls you to his broad chest. You encircle his waist and find comfort in his warmth. Heat is a rarity this time of year. Central heat belongs only to the wealthy. He allows you to turn the two of you so his back is to the kitchen and to the surprise that you’re so worried about. Thankful for his patience, you press a kiss against his collarbone where the neck of his shirt has loosened up enough with age to expose it. K shivers and his arms tighten around your body, but one of his hands comes up to cradle the side of your face. His fingertips gently trace the shell of your ear.

“What are you working on, sweetheart?”

“It’s a surprise,” you say, closing your eyes contentedly.

K is all but petting you. His fingers leave trails of heat in their wake as they course new paths over your skin. The weight of his gaze bores into you, equally heated. He always looks at you like he cannot believe you’re present, tangible, able to to be touched. Filled with regret, you extract yourself from his embrace. His hand lingers, sliding across your jaw as you take a step back to gain much needed distance. If you weren’t careful, you would spend the rest of the holiday in his arms. Not a bad thing, but you want to give him even a small token of your affection in the form of a new experience. You’ve spent many hours discussing the flavors of different foods with him. He had been limited to the tasteless, synthetically produced excuse for food from his inception date to the time Deckard gathered his body off the stairs outside Satelline Labs.

Catching his free hand as it falls from your face, you give it a firm squeeze that he returns, careful to not crush your considerably more fragile bones in his grasp. His eyes are darting, examining every facet of your features. You bring his hand to your lips and give it a soft kiss across the scarred knuckles before letting it go.

“I won’t be long, honey. Put something festive on?”

He nods, relieved to have a task. You retreat back to the kitchen while he starts to flip through the collection of records that you and K have slowly been building together since he came into your life all those months ago. As with most of the objects in your shared home, they were scavenged from defunct buildings or traded for.

Turning on the burner, you place a pan with milk on the slowly heating element. You let the milk reach a near simmer before turning it off and slowly add the cocoa powder and salt to the liquid. You whisk it thoroughly, breaking up any clumps, and stir in the vanilla extract and then a reasonable dollop of honey. You scoop up a little bit into a spoon, blow on it, and sample. You add another pinch of cocoa powder before gathering up a second shallow spoonful and having checking it again. It tastes good, real.

From the other room, you hear music start to play. It sounds like the opening notes to Jingle Bells. You smile. Of course he chose the Frank Sinatra album. 

You move the pan to a potholder on the counter and take a mug down from the cupboard. You’re careful when pouring the hot chocolate into it, not wanting to waste a single drop. It is just enough to fill the mug with a finger’s width of space left for the marshmallows. You pick up the pillowy shapes with your fingers and gently deposit them on the surface. They float on top of the concoction like the seabirds you and K saw over the edge of the sea wall during a calm morning not so long ago.

Before making your way to the living room, you pick up the mug. Its chipped porcelain is warm against your knuckles when they brush against the side of it. K is sitting on the couch, drumming his fingers on his knee. He’s watching the record leisurely spin.

“Honey,” you say, coming to a stop in front of him.

He looks up at you with a crooked smile. “Darling.”

“Happy Holiday,” you say, offering him the still steaming mug, “Here. Be careful. It’s hot.”

The replicant takes it from you with a steady hand. He peers curiously into the vessel and pokes at one of the marshmallows with an exploratory finger. “What did you make?”

“Hot chocolate,” you tell him.

K brings the mug to his face, inhaling the scent deeply. He presses his lips to the edge of the cup and takes a pull. He doesn’t swallow right away and insteads lets the hot chocolate sit in his mouth for a brief moment, savoring the flavor. His eyes slip closed when he swallows but when he opens them, he looks dazzled. He rushes to take another drink of it. 

“Thank you,” he says once he has swallowed the second sip.

“Anything for you.”

The former LAPD officer reaches out with the hand not holding the mug and draws you to him, not standing. You come to rest on your knees between his spread legs. He leans forward and tips your head up with a still calloused hand, once from a firearm, now from farming a few select crops and tending to bees. You meet his gaze and hook your arms around the outsides of his thighs. You’re waiting for him to make the next move and he doesn’t disappoint.

He leans over further and presses a kiss to your mouth. His lips are hot against your own, and he tastes of sugar and chocolate. You can’t help but brush your tongue against the seam of his lips, swiping your tongue against his when he willingly opens for you. You’re fighting to not pant into his mouth and instead force yourself to withdraw, consoling yourself by sucking on his bottom lip. His grip on your chin tights slightly, just on the edge of too tight. He pulls away. You rise onto your knees to chase after him but he sits up just enough that you can’t capture his mouth in another kiss 

His blue eyes scan your face, tenderness etched onto his features. His lips are kiss-swollen and glossy. “What can I do for you?”

“Read to me?” You ask. You get to your feet, using his sturdy legs as an aid. You take a seat on the couch next to him.

“Such a simple request, sweetheart,” he says softly, picking up the book he was holding when he sought you out earlier. He shows the cover to you and you nod your approval before shifting so that you’re pressed against his side. You are all but curled up in his lap. 

K puts one arm around you, holding you close. His body temperature runs slightly higher than yours and you sigh into the warmth of him. He parts the pages of the book with his free hand. The book is splayed open on his knee. He seeks out the first page and upon finding it, he begins to speak.

“‘And still I dream he treads the lawn, Walking ghostly in the dew, Pierced by my glad singing through,’” K reads steadily. The soft tones of the album playing on the restored record intertwine with his voice. He reads long after the needle reaches the end, long after you’ve dozed off against him.

[nakunakunomi]

It's the thought - Izo x Reader

Look, I know I am supposed to be writing Spooktober things now, but I couldn't really let this pass without at least a little writing. So without any further ado, enjoy a little celebratory blurb for the one true love of my life, Izo! 2nd person. GN reader. Modern AU

It was a beautiful fall day: the leaves on the trees had been turning all shades of crimson, orange and yellow, and the temperatures had lowered from the scorching summer heat to something more pleasant, without being actually cold. Fall had officially started, and you were absolutely enjoying the atmosphere. 

You were home alone for now, making use of the time you had to yourself to warm up the oven and get to baking. For fall, pumpkin spice everything seemed like the obvious choice- but not today. Today you had an entirely different mission: bake your boyfriend a cake. You had found a recipe online that was beginner-friendly yet ambitious: two layers and a cream frosting, soft pink details and strawberries. They were out of season now, but you knew how much Izo loved them, and you wouldn’t spare any effort for his birthday. 

You’d been a little sad to be hearing he’d still be working today, as you had hoped he’d maybe take the day off for his birthday, but he’s never made a big deal out of it. 

“When you’re my age, y/n, it truly doesn’t matter much anymore. It’s just another day. But, if you’d like, we can go out to dinner, the two of us?”

You had -of course- agreed, but since you were home anyway, you had decided that you wanted to surprise him as well. After all, he made such an effort of surprising and pampering you throughout the year, with little thoughtful gifts, flowers to make your house an even more beautiful place, takeout of your favorite meals whenever you were too tired to cook… 

So you had gone out, purchased all the ingredients for a cake (and some more, just in case something went wrong), his favorite flowers, and put those in a vase on the table. You had made a card with a handwritten love letter earlier, and had now put it next to the vase and a little box that was neatly wrapped with a rose gold paper. Inside was a watch you had seen him eye a couple times before, but never purchasing it, because he felt like it was too expensive for a watch, especially since he still had one that was working perfectly fine still. 

The oven signaled that it was done preheating, and you practically jumped from the sound, already confused how time was flying by so fast; you had barely set the table with gifts and hadn’t even started measuring and weighing the ingredients. You let the oven sit like that for now and got to quickly prepping the ingredients. Once preparations were over, it didn’t take too long for you to actually do the recipe. You made sure to follow the recipe to the letter, knowing that baking was more of a precision job than cooking usually was. 

When the cake was finally in the oven, you cleaned up the counter and prepared the frosting. After that, you let the cake cool down on the counter while you tidied up the house. You opened up a window to let the room air out, and went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for your dinner date already. That way you could focus on cake decorating until Izo got home, and leave for the restaurant whenever he was ready, You didn’t want him to have to wait for you. 

You put on your favorite music while washing up, loudly singing along and already imagining what the evening was going to be like. You were getting excited when- 

You heard some noises downstairs, and even though the shower was running hot, you suddenly got cold shivers. 

You then heard some yelling, and were ready to panic until you recognized the voice. 

“Izo?” you walked downstairs carefully, nothing but a towel wrapped around your frame, still dripping wet, being careful not to slip. 

“Y/n?” You sighed in relief when you realized it was in fact Izo who had come home much earlier than anticipated. Your relief was short lived when you realized your surprise was a little ruined now, and then replaced by worry when you saw his face, confused and not at all the way you had expected him to look when he saw what you were preparing. 

“What was that sound?” You walked up to him, giving him a brief kiss, whispering a happy birthday against his lips. “Well… I will assume you were preparing a surprise for me?” You nodded, and he chuckled. “Did you by any chance leave food out and a window open?” You closed your eyes, cursing as you realized what had probably happened. “I think the neighborhood cat was just as surprised as you were to find me home early.” You walked into the kitchen with him, only to find little pawprints in frosting all over, and the cake that was cooling down ruined with tooth marks and paw- and clawprints and more frosting smeared all over. At the very least it looked like the creature hadn’t ingested too much, so you were sure it would be fine. You looked over at the table, relieved to see that at least your gift setup wasn’t bothered by the cake thief either. 

Still, your relief was replaced with sadness, as you did put in all the effort. You felt your bottom lip tremble as you took in the view, only to be pulled out of your thoughts by a strong arm around your waist. Izo pulled you into his side, chuckling softly. 

“I wanted to surprise you. You seemed a little deflated that I didn’t want to celebrate beyond going out for dinner, so I wanted to see if we could maybe have a fun afternoon. I got off a little early, only to see that you were preparing something as well” 

You nodded.

“It was going to be a strawberry cake, your favorite” “Does that mean you have fresh strawberries in the fridge?” You didn’t see it, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes”, you smiled as well. “And you got my favorite flowers,” he said, walking up to the table, taking you along with him with one arm still wrapped around your waist, the other softly touching the flowers, studying the arrangement. You looked at his face, admiring him instead of the flowers. 

“Thank you.”

He turned to you before even opening the card or the present, and you smiled, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed about the whole situation: the failed surprise, the mess that the kitchen was, the fact that you were not ready, standing there shivering in your towel. 

“You’re welcome, I wish it was mo-”

He shushed you with another kiss, effectively taking away most of your worries and otherwise negative feelings. He had that effect on you, immediately making you feel better with nothing but a loving gesture. "It's perfect” 

You had no choice but to replace your frown with a smile as well. 

“let me get dressed then, and then… we’ll celebrate”  "And maybe clean up a little as well"

[pearlcaddy]

I really need people who don't watch The Try Guys and only know about them from the recent Ned bullshit to appreciate their most recent video.

For the past couple months, they've been releasing a mix of videos that in some cases have been carefully edited around Ned and in others been shot recently without him. There's been some shade sprinkled throughout the newer stuff, and there was this particular gem in a recent video:

[ID: Screenshot from Try Guys 30-Day Meditation Challenge of Keith standing in front of the cover of the Try Guys' book, The Hidden Power of Fucking Up. Normally the cover has a photo of all four Try Guys, but the image of Ned has been replaced with a blank 404 error message.]

In general, their approach has been to throw some shade but ultimately cut around and ignore him.

But now it's Without a Recipe season.

WAR is one of the Try Guys' major series, released during November and December, in which they compete with each other to bake an item without a recipe, usually to disastrous results. Because the videos are long and such a central part of their winter holiday schedule, the videos are filmed months in advance. (Despite how long this post is, I'm a very casual fan, but my understanding is it's shot in the summer?) Which means that these episodes were filmed pre-scandal and that they're very difficult episodes to scrap or reshoot. And, given the camera set-up, it would be almost impossible to completely cut out a participant.

So they went a different direction.

[ID: Screenshot of the title card reading, "The Try Guys: Without a Recipe. Everything is Fine: A Totally Normal Season." Next to the text are images of explosions and a sarcastic hand giving a thumbs up.]

The shade in this episode starts early. Zach has consistently been the weakest baker, but his chyron for this year was unapologetic.

[ID: Screenshot of Zach being interviewed by the camera. At the bottom of the screen is a chryon that reads, "Zach: No longer the 4th best."]

For the most part, the episode cuts around Ned; the audience isn't told what type of Pop-Tart he bakes and we don't see the judges tasting and reviewing his bake. Group shots of the four Try Guys tend to be cropped so that only Keith, Eugene, and Zach are visible.

The time he's made most visible in the background is in these shots:

[ID: Screenshot of Keith in the foreground. Behind him is Ned, seen from the shoulders down. The framing deliberately leaves the text on Ned's shirt visible. It reads, "I love bad ideas," followed by the heart on fire emoji.]

But my favorite parts of the video are when they just replace him. Because, while the rest of the episode plays like a normal episode, there's wild shit happening whenever Ned would have been on screen.

There's one time when the editors wink to a fan theory that they'd used a fake pole to partially edit him out of a shot in a previous video. How? By needlessly covering him with a fake pole instead of cropping him out the way they do with all the other shots from the same camera set-up.

[ID: Screenshot of Zach in the foreground. To his left is a computer-generated image of a large, clearly fake pole over the space where Ned would be.]

Now normally the bakers are split into two pairs and work at side-by-side work stations where they riff off of one another while baking.

[ID: Screenshot of Eugene and Zach in the kitchen baking at separate tables that are arranged side-by-side.]

So at some points in the video, Keith (who is the baker paired with Ned in this episode) is in footage where the Ned half of the screen is replaced with footage of an unused workstation, as below:

But my favorite parts of the video were the ones where they replaced Ned with something that really acknowledged the elephant in the room:

[ID: Screenshot of the same kitchen set-up from before with two tables next to each other. Keith stands at one, looking at the baker at the other table. Ned has been replaced with a computer-generated image of a pink elephant.]

Whenever Ned is (presumably) speaking, the audio is replaced with a loud elephant trumpet.

They commit to the bit so much that, when the judges announce the results, they don't even show us Ned's Pop-Tart.

[ID: Judge Rosanna Pansino holds up a Pop-Tart. A red-and-white paper box of fresh peanuts has been added to the footage, completely shielding the Pop-Tart from view. The peanut box has a cartoon image of an elephant as part of its design.]

Now, they easily could have cut out the announcement of the results, especially since they cut out all of his baking process.

But Ned comes last.

So they leave that part in. As a treat.

When the judge announces the name of the fourth-place baker, instead of saying "Ned," the audio is replaced with her voice saying "Elephant," and when we cut to Ned's reaction?

[ID: Screenshot of the Try Guys clustered together. Ned has been replaced with the pink elephant, who is screaming in protest while the other three Try Guys shrink away from him. The chyron reads, "4th Place: Elephant."

And then true chaos reigns when we get to the announcement of the winner, and there's honestly so much going on that I'll leave the image ID to explain it.

[ID: Screenshot of the Try Guys clustered together again. This time, Ned has been replaced with the body of a dancing man, while his head has been replaced with a terrifying dough face that Keith made earlier in the episode. Behind Ned is a smaller, full-body image of the pink elephant, standing in profile. Sat on the elephant's back is a cut out of the impersonation of Zach from the SNL skit that mocked the Try Guys' infamous What Happened video. Also on the back of the elephant are an image of a bent-over old man and a man in a suit holding a red cloak. I'm either not online enough or not versed in Try Guys' lore enough to understand their significance. The chyron reads, "Winner: Daddy's Favorite," in reference to Keith's victory.]

The whole video is truly, beautifully unhinged and I'm absolutely living for it. I've been wondering how they were going to handle WAR, because it's my favorite series and I knew editing around Ned was going to be a challenge.

Ned was always competitive, particularly on WAR, and I'm absolutely delighted that it turned into 40 minutes of everyone at 2nd Try taking the piss out of him... only for him to come in last place.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Summary: On February 13, those over 16 receive an empty box in the mail every year. You place items in the box and they appear in your soulmate's box the following day. Until now, you haven't figured out who your soulmate is. But after an unexpected run-in with your least favorite aviator, you discover your other half may be closer than you think.

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Note: Thank you to @wildbornsiren and @green-socks for helping me work out this concept. Your advice really gave me the confidence to pursue this idea! 💖 And also thank you for beta reading, Sam! 😘

I wanted to come up with an original concept for a Soulmate AU and I have not seen one done exactly like this so I figured I would give it a shot! I would love to know what people think of it as a concept as well as the execution in the fic! 🥰

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

You couldn’t believe it was already February 13th. You had been so preoccupied lately with the last few missions, increased training, and yearly inspections that it completely slipped your mind. Yet there was no denying the date when you checked your mailbox and found a red, heart-shaped box with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Oh, shit,” you cursed under your breath as you picked the Box up. It looked exactly the same as it did every year since it had first shown up in your mailbox when you were 16. Just as it looked the same as every other Box that magically appeared in everyone’s mailboxes on this day once they reached that age.

No one knew exactly how it happened or when it started. Some say a form of the Boxes had been around since the 1800s, while others claimed to have found mentions of something like them back in the 1500s, while some scholars tried to argue the proof of their existence as far back as the 1300s or even crude versions in Ancient Rome. But in modern times, a holiday was formed around the arrival of the Boxes, one centered on love and giving. They called it Valentine’s Day after one of the earlier mentions of the event in a poem. And every year at that time, the same thing happened all over the world.

On February 13, the Box would appear in your mailbox. When it did, you would place items into it, things that either showed off who you were or showed your love and admiration for the person about to receive what you picked out. Then, you would place the Box back into your mailbox by midnight. The next morning, the Box would still be there, but it would now be filled with different objects. Objects that your soulmate had placed in their Box the day before.

Over the years, you had received a wide variety of trinkets from your soulmate: various types of candy, love-themed stuffed animals, the occasional jewelry, a wooden rose, a well-worn baseball, a picture frame left empty just waiting for a photo to go inside it, a bottle of half-used cologne, a stack of recipes.

And every year, there was a famous love poem nestled at the bottom. You often wondered if he would write you original poetry if it was allowed, but the Boxes didn’t permit that sort of thing. Nothing handwritten or originally composed, no photographs, no business cards, no blatantly identifiable items of any kind. Anything you placed in your Box that was deemed too telling by whatever magic or energy made the Boxes work remained in your Box when you opened it the next day.

It had only happened to you once when you tried to send a pin with the Naval Academy’s logo on it the year you were accepted, but apparently, it was too much of a hint as to your identity to pass on to your soulmate. It seemed as if the Boxes wanted to help you find your soulmates, but didn’t want things to be too easy for you either.

Glancing at your watch, you cursed even louder as you realized that at this time of night, the only places in the area that might still be open were convenience stores or the Walgreens a few blocks away. However, this close to the deadline, stores like Walgreens that catered to the Boxes were usually packed with last-minute shoppers or picked clean by now. So, with a sigh, you jumped back into your truck and drove down to the convenience store at the end of the block. 

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t a wide selection to choose from. Just meaningless junk and useless items. Reluctantly, you settled on a California shot glass (broad locations were usually allowed and your soulmate had once sent the wrapper from a bottle of whiskey so you assumed he drank) and a car air freshener shaped like a heart in one of your favorite fragrances. It was pathetic, but at least it was something.

As you headed up to the sizeable check-out line, you stumbled to a stop as you recognized the man at the end of the line. You stared at the back of his head all day during briefings and meetings so even from behind, it was impossible to mistake him. For a moment, you considered waiting for him to finish checking out or even just leaving the store now without your purchase, but it was almost 11:30 pm and time was running out to get your items into your Box. So, taking a deep breath, you stepped into line.

Sensing someone approaching from behind, Hangman glanced over his shoulder and did a double take as he recognized you. He flinched slightly and his shoulders tensed, yet his usual cocky smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here. I would have thought Miss Perfect would have had her gift planned out weeks ago. Cutting things a little close there, aren’t we?”

You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest that happened anytime you were around Hangman. Ever since the day the two of you had met at the Academy, you had gotten along like oil and water. Always trying to one-up the other or prove you were the best, your interactions usually ended with some sort of heated argument or screaming match. The universe seemed to enjoy your little feud because, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two of you had ended up in the same squadron after graduation. And you were both transferred together to the next one. Then to the same class at Top Gun. And yet another joint squadron change. It was practically unheard of, and yet, since the first day of either of your careers, you had been working together. But it never lessened the antagonistic tension between you. If anything, it only got worse as time went on.

When you were in the sky, the two of you could work together in perfect harmony and despite everything, you were the perfect wingmen for one another. Yet, the moment the two of you got face-to-face on the ground, that was when things became hostile. Just like now.

Trying your best to maintain your composure, you snapped, “We’ve been out of the country for the last two weeks. When was I supposed to get anything? Besides, you’re here too.” Looking down at his hands, you rolled your eyes as you spotted the fighter jet-shaped object he was holding. “A keychain? That’s the best you can do? Wow, Bagman. Some girl out there is so lucky to have you as her soulmate.”

Hangman’s jaw clenched tightly and you could tell he was trying his best not to start cursing you out in the middle of the checkout line. Instead, he just sneered, “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. I’m sure your soulmate is going to love that tacky glass and a single air freshener.” 

You felt your cheeks growing warm as you stared daggers at him, but it wasn’t all due to anger. Though you would never admit it, you knew he was right. This was a pathetic excuse for a present for the person who was meant to be the love of your life. He always gave you such lovely, meaningful gifts and this was the best you could do? You wish there was some way to explain what happened. That this was all due to bad timing and an insanely busy schedule and that you had wanted to give him so much more. But without a way to send personal messages, this was all you could do. 

However, just because all of that was true, it didn’t mean you were going to let Hangman get away with pointing it out. Still glaring at him, you said, “As a matter of fact, I know this is exactly the sort of thing he will love. You don’t know anything about him or me outside of work, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up, and worry about your pathetic gift and how disappointed your soulmate is going to be in the morning.”

For a brief moment, the expression on Hangman’s face wasn’t one of anger or rage. It was one of pain. And you realized he probably felt as shitty about his gift as you did about yours. You knew there was more to Hangman than he ever revealed to the other aviators, and at this moment, you felt like for the first time you might have gotten a glimpse of this other side of him. But before you could say anything, he steeled his face once more and whirled around to face the counter without another word.

Even with his back to you, you could see he was still very upset. His broad shoulders were tensed as he stood slightly hunched over and drawn in on himself. Suddenly, you had the urge to wrap your arms around him from behind and press your face against his shoulder blades as you whispered soft apologies to make up for what you had said. But you quickly shook your head to snap yourself out of it. This was Hangman. The two of you fought more than cats and dogs. This was just how it was between you. And yet, as he finished paying and glanced quickly back at you one final time, you couldn’t help but wish you had apologized after all.

That night, you tossed and turned in bed, haunted by what had happened with your run-in with Hangman and how you should have handled it differently. However, all of it was forgotten the moment you woke up and remembered what day it was. Springing out of bed, you threw on some clothes and rushed out the front door.

As much as you wanted nothing more than to run downstairs and return with your Box as quickly as you could, it just wasn’t possible. The entire building had the same thought. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment, you were met with a crowd of people all struggling to make it to the stairwell. The landlord had hired someone for each floor to attempt to control the traffic, but as usual, it was a useless endeavor. There was nothing to do but wait your turn as the horde of people slowly made their way down the stairs and to the row of mailboxes by the front door. 

When you finally made it to your mailbox and retrieved the package from inside, you hurried back upstairs with the Box clutched tightly to your chest. Some people couldn’t stand the anticipation and had ripped open their Boxes in the lobby, but you preferred to open yours in the privacy of your apartment. Luckily, getting back up was a lot quicker than getting down. The crowds had thinned as most people made it down to their mailboxes and you were able to make it back in only a few minutes.

Once inside, you leaned heavily on your door, trying to calm your excitement. You waited all year for this moment, to get just the tiniest glimpse into the person who was supposedly your other half. Yet no matter how happy you were, you couldn’t help but dread the feeling of disappointment he must be having seeing what you placed inside your box this year. You just hoped you could make it up to him next year, potentially even in person. But maybe that was too much wishful thinking. 

Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid. The second you saw what was inside, you dropped the Box as if it had burned you, spilling the contents across the floor. Gasping, you slid down the door to the ground, your hands pressed tightly over your mouth. You couldn’t believe your eyes. There had to be some kind of mistake. Somehow the Boxes got mixed up and yours was sent to the wrong person while you received this one instead. Because this could not be your Box. 

Yet, there was no denying the truth. A piece of paper stuck out of the Box. Glancing quickly at it, you saw that it was your yearly love poem, though this one had a theme of forgiveness and doing better in the future as well as love. As in, asking forgiveness for such a crappy gift this year. Because there, peeking out from underneath the table where it had landed, was the only other item from the Box: a familiar-looking keychain shaped like a fighter jet. 

A million different explanations ran through your head as you tried to think of some rational explanation that didn’t end with your soulmate being your wingman. They probably sold these same keychains in thousands of stores across the country and maybe he finally figured out your clues and realized you were a fighter pilot. Maybe he got his pilot’s license this year and this was his way of sharing the news. Maybe he might have gone to an airshow and wished you were there with him. Or…. maybe the keychain you now held in your hand was the same one you had seen last night in the convenience store.

You had to find out for sure. There was no way you could go about your day until you had verified this was all just some big cosmic misunderstanding. So, you grabbed the keychain, your bag, your keys, and your jacket before hurrying towards the door. 

Your jacket was only half on as you threw open the door and were almost hit in the face with a fist that was in the process of knocking. Dodging back, you saw Hangman standing in the hallway, his chest heaving as if he had just run the whole way here. Glancing down, you saw that in the hand he didn’t have raised, he was holding your shot glass and air freshener. So, it was true….

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

“How?” You stumbled backward, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse. But a large hand shot out and grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Hangman had touched you many times before, yet there was something different about this time. It felt safe and comforting and it sent a small shiver across your skin. 

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay! What about this situation makes you think I’d be okay? You wanted to scream at him, but you know it wouldn’t do any good. So, you just pull your arm out of his grasp and take a few steps back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I-I just need a minute.” 

You hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water off the counter. Draining it in just a few gulps, you wipe the back of your hand across your mouth as you try to figure out what to do next. Your mind was running a mile a minute and all you wanted to do was to lay down in your bed, burrow under the covers, and forget this morning ever happened. However, this was not something you could just ignore for now and figure out later. Hangman was still in your living room just waiting for you to return. You knew you had to face him sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.

As you walked back into the living room, you saw Hangman standing by your bookcase. When you got closer, he held up the picture frame you had received in your Box a few years ago. With a wistful smile on his lips, he said, “You still have this. And you kept it empty…”

With your arms crossed tightly across your chest, you gave a half-hearted shrug. “I never had the right photo with the right person to put in it.” As you reached out to take it from him, your mind flashed to the hundreds of photos with you and Hangman people had taken over the years. “Or I guess I did and just didn’t realize it.”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

The pet name was the final straw as you felt something snap within you. “No, no, I’m sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and placed the picture frame back on the bookshelf. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be you. It– It just can’t be.” 

Hangman turned away but not before you saw the pain flash in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess you thought you’d be paired with someone better. Someone you could at least stand to be in the same room with.” He started heading towards the door, but you jumped in front of him to stop him from leaving. 

“No, it’s not that at all. Hangm– Jake.” His head was still hung low so you took his face between your hands and turned it so he was staring at you. Taking a shuttering breath, you explained, “It can’t be you because I don’t think I can handle the fact that we’ve known each other for almost 10 years and didn’t know. That my soulmate was right in front of me this whole time and I never…. That I wasted so much time arguing and fighting with him that I never allowed myself to see him for what he truly was.”

But it didn’t matter how much you wanted things to be different. There was no denying the truth at this point. In hindsight, it all made perfect sense. That heat in your chest you felt every time Hangman walked into the room wasn’t hate at all. It was love. Love you thought you could never have so you used it to fuel your anger towards him. You had turned the magnetic pull between you into something ugly and bitter all because you were hurt he could never be yours. And because of that, you almost ruined everything. 

Jake must have seen the tears forming in your eyes and the way your lip trembled as you tried to hold it together because his pained expression softened into one of understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He softly took your arm and drew you into his chest. The gesture was so tender and soft that you couldn’t fight it anymore. Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you buried your face into his shoulder. Jake’s hand gently caressed your back, rubbing small, soothing circles across it while you sobbed. And it felt so right. The hot feeling you got in your chest whenever Hangman was around spread throughout you and when he lightly pressed his lips to the top of your head, you thought you might explode.

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

So, you lifted your head slightly, and whispered, “The worst part is, I know it’s you. I’ve known since the minute I first saw you back at the Academy. Sitting in class with that stupid toothpick in your mouth and the big ol’ grin on your face. You were the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and I instantly fell for you. For a moment, I even let myself imagine you might be my soulmate.” You tilted your head up to look him squarely in the face. “But when I asked you about one of the poems my soulmate had sent me, you said you’d never heard of it.”

Hangman smiled softly with a sorrowful gleam in his eyes. “I remember that day perfectly. You walked up to introduce yourself and when I saw you, I couldn’t breathe. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen and your voice… When you mentioned the poem, I had a momentary flash of hope that it could be you. But it was a really popular poem and one I had sent a few years before, so I just figured it was wishful thinking. And I couldn’t admit it right then anyway. Because with her – with you – I was Jake. As open and real and vulnerable as I’ve ever been with another person. But when you asked me in class, in front of the rest of the cadets, you were talking to Hangman, and he would never be caught dead reading poetry. So, I lied. And it seems that I doomed us both.” 

You shook your head frantically. “No, Jake. This isn’t just on you. I lied too. I was so upset that you weren’t my soulmate that when you started asking me about what sort of music I listened to and you mentioned a bunch of artists, including the band whose CD I had sent you, I said I didn’t know any of them because I couldn’t handle talking to you right then. I just wanted the conversation to be over. But if I had just told the truth, you probably would have realized who I was. So, this is just as much on me as it is on you.”

“Thank you.” He placed another kiss in the middle of your forehead and a wave of warmth flowed through you all the way down to your toes. Then he chuckled, “I guess the universe knew we were idiots and needed as much help as we could get. Maybe that’s why we’re still stuck together through every mission and every transfer. Not even the United States Navy is a match for soulmates.”

“I guess not,” you giggled. Then, turning more serious again, you said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I am lucky to have you as a soulmate. And I’m not disappointed in the slightest.”

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

You groaned as a huge smile lit up your face and you playfully slapped his chest. “Oh, God. We’re going to be one of those super mushy, romantic couples that drives everyone crazy with how in love we are, aren’t we?”

“I’m counting on it.” There was absolutely no humor or playfulness in his tone. Just complete sincerity. And as you gazed into his pale green eyes, it felt as if you were staring directly into his soul. It felt as if you were staring directly into your own heart. 

Jake’s fingers brushed against your cheek before gently tilting your chin back. Your eyes fluttered shut even before his lips pressed against yours. Before this moment, you thought you knew what a kiss felt like, what love felt like. And yet, nothing you had ever experienced felt anything close to kissing Jake. It was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket but instead of pain, your body vibrated with a euphoric buzz of pleasure. 

And as he drew you in closer against his chest, it felt as if your hearts began to sync and beat in time until the two thumps melded into one. There was not a single sliver of doubt left in you. Jake Seresin was your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier about it.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog,  @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233

[i-am-a-fan]

Things I learned my first year in American College ™ that maybe would be helpful for others?

Don’t skip meals, if you have to then buy a starchy snack to keep you from feeling funky until meal time

Take out is a god send

Buy frozen Veggies

WD -40 is a good investment ( Squeaky door frames to Wasp Killer)

Bring rain boots. It won’t hurt.

Be okay with bugs. If you have a phobia, make sure there’s a designated bug killer.

Know how to communicate your wants and needs

DONT. LEAVE. OUT. DISHES. WITH. FOOD.

Keep sandals on at all times if you’re on the first floor. (I had scorpions :,>)

Eggs are a good and easy source of protein!

you will get tired of eggs.

Go out. do stuff. Even if it’s just sitting in the library for a bit.

You’ll need more paper towels than you realize.

Take a water bottle with you. A 16 oz is really enough.

Have a routine. It’ll help keep you sane

I know everyone says this, but start your stuff early. Especially if you work. The bad part is that most of your peers will not be able to help you if you start early.

MAKE. FLASH. CARDS. Write down the information your professors give you like 3 times in different places.

Your professors and peers are mostly there to help you.

Little treats will mostly keep you sane but will drain your bank account

There’s a million ways to cook instant ramen packets. Don’t just follow the instructions.

IN FACT HERES MY FAVORITE RECIPE I MADE

Take the ramen packet that’s cooked on the stove (I usually used spicy lime shrimp.

Separate the noodles and the flavor packet.

Fill a medium pot with about 3-4 cups of water. (I measured out the water to be the same amount as could be held in the bowl I used). Turn on to medium heat.

Add the flavor packet to a pot of water.

Add a slice of butter (for creaminess).

Add half a spoonful of chili garlic sauce

add a spoonful and a half of soy sauce

add minced garlic (half a spoonful)

Add ginger paste ( a dollop)

Add chicken flavored Bouillon (a spoonful)

Mix it all together and let it boil.

Once boiling crack an egg and there and MIX. MIX!! You want the egg to cook fully in the boiling water.

Once the egg is cooked add in the noodles and let the noodles cook for like 3 minutes?

Once the noodles are starting to separate, add in your hearts content of frozen minced spinach.

Wait until spinach is no longer frozen and serve.