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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing.

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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kimistorm · 4 years ago

Text

[Lee Minho] Cats are the Worst

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Lee Know/Lee Minho x GN! reader

Requested by: AvatarKyarra

Prompts: 6) “That wasn’t supposed to happen” and 9) “Don’t freak out”

Word count: 1.7k

TW: Mentions of food

AN: Lol <1k was a bit of a lie apparently. Anywho, thank you for the request! Sorry if the writing feels a little clunky/repetitive TwT BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, Hyunjin is back!!

“I don’t know, do you think he’ll like it?” you asked your phone that was on speakerphone as you scrolled through the list of recipes on your screen.

You heard an exasperated sigh from the other end of the line, “of course he’s going to love it. You’re his significant other.”

“Yeah, but he’s not that fond of sweets,” you bit your lip and ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

Han let out another groan from your hesitance, at this point, he was probably more frustrated than you, “have you seen him with Felix makes brownies?”

“Okay, but Felix’s brownies can make anyone melt.” You bit back in response as you thought to the cheery blond’s sweets. They always made you feel better, even after a rough day.

“He’s going to love anything you make him,” Han told you with finality, though this would be the fifth time he’s told you this. “But the more time you waste doing this the less time you have to make it.”

You snorted, knowing Han also had streaks of indecisiveness, “when did you become decisive?”

“Since you spent nearly an hour going in circles with me.” You let out a yelp of surprise, not realizing how much time had already passed. “Just make cookies! They’re going to be faster than a cake.” Your black-haired friend quickly told you, hoping to take this opportunity to give you a decision.

“Okay, okay, thank you!” you hurriedly clicked on the recipe with the highest rating and number of reviews.

“It’ll be amazing!” Han rushed to tell you as you fumbled with your phone to hang up.

“Thanks Han! If we have any extra I’ll bring you some!”

“Go, go go!” Han cheered before hanging up. With a determined nod, you ran around your shared kitchen for the ingredients. You frowned when you couldn’t find any more chocolate chips, Minho must’ve eaten them because you could’ve sworn you had some last week. It looks like you’ll have to change your plan and make sugar cookies. You found a simple recipe that allowed for decorating and decided that you’d decorate them. That’d be a cute gesture, right?

With clumsy precision, you measured out the ingredients and mixed them together to form the dough. You frowned as the recipe called to chill the dough for a couple of hours. You weren’t going to have time for that, so you’d have to skip that step and hope things still turned out all right. With the use of a couple of spoons and a butterknife, you were able to scoop out some relatively flat cookies onto the baking tray and pop them into the oven. It was a shame you couldn’t find the cat-shaped cookie cutters that you thought Felix gave you for Christmas, but they were very lost. Now that you think about it, you weren’t sure if you saw them since the day he gave them to you.

It was with a sinking heart when you realized you would have to wait for the cookies to cool before you could ice them. “It’ll be okay, right?” you worriedly mumbled as you glanced at your phone to see how much longer you had until Minho came home and the timer telling you that it would be close. Letting out a somewhat panicked but quiet, “aaaaaa,” you set to cleaning up the bowls and utensils you had used to make the dough. In no time they were on the drying rack and you grabbed a smaller bowl to make the icing.

You fished through to the back of your pantry for the somewhat old bag of powdered sugar that you used to decorate pancakes with and then never used again. You were glad to see it was still powdery and usable. You were measuring out the powder for the icing when a light body made its way to your side.

“Hey Doongie,” you cooed as you pet the cat who leaped onto the counter for some affection. “We’re going to make your dad cookies, what do you think?” dark eyes blinked at you lazily. “Ah, maybe that’s what I get for trying to talk to cats.” You sniggered when you got no response. You turned around to check the next steps of the recipe, but quickly spun around in fear when you heard the hollow ‘thunk’ of something plastic falling to the ground and an indignant ‘meow.’

“Oh no!” you panicked when you saw Doongie sitting cleanly on the counter where you left the white cat, but there was no bowl of powdered sugar. That was spilled on the ground. “Why’d you do that?” you wailed at the cat who you swore was smirking at you. You grew even more scared when you saw the disturbed flour on the ground. It was thrown all over the place and you saw pawprints leading out from the mess. “You didn’t!” you scolded as you followed the trail of white pawprints, already fearing for the mess that was being tracked all over your apartment.

Thanks to the visible trail, you were able to find the victim hidden in one of the cat houses perched on a scratching post. “You wanna come out?” you cooed to the cat enshrouded in darkness. You needed to see the damage that was done. Two eyes seemed to stare back at you from the darkness, blinking only once. You let out a sigh before returning to the kitchen to grab a cat treat. Doongie meowed pleadingly with you, going as far as to put a paw on your arm when you fished out a treat, “no.” You told the cat sassily, “you’ve caused enough trouble.” You swore Doongie rolled their eyes at you as you walked away.

“Come on out,” you gently cooed as you waved the treat in front of the opening to the cat housing. There was a moment of silence, and then a head popped out. You quickly moved your hand away so the cat would have to reach, and gasped when you saw the white cat who emerged. “Oh no Dori!” the normally striped gray cat was almost completely coated in powdered sugar. “On second thought,” you put the treat back into the housing, “you can stay in there.” You were not looking forward to washing the dark cat.

You left the cat to the darkness of the cat house and the treat before returning to the kitchen, letting out another wail when you saw Doongie playing around in the pile of sugar. “No! Bad cat!” you weren’t keen on another set of sugar tracks around the apartment so you slowly came closer to pick up Doongie. The white cat froze and stared at you, nimbly jumping out of the way when you lunged forward to pick them up. “No! Come back here!” you raced around the apartment chasing the white cat.

After a few seconds of chasing them, you decided to give up, hoping Doongie would calm down and sit instead of running around the entire apartment to cause an even bigger mess. You quickly closed the door to the bathroom where the cat was currently taking refuge and closed all the doors to the rooms. Hopefully this would keep the damage contained. With a sigh you set to cleaning up the powdered sugar that had splattered to the ground and somehow onto the cabinet right next to it.

You heard the deadbolt click and your heart sank as the door opened to reveal Minho, “hey,” while you were sad your cookies weren’t ready in time, seeing him always put a smile on your face and you got up from the ground to greet him, “you’re home early.”

“They let me leave earlier,” he smiled as the two of you quickly kissed. There was a meow and he looked down in confusion at the half-white half-gray Dori.

“Dori?” he kneeled down and rubbed the cat lovingly, “what happened?” he asked as he turned his attention to you.

“Don’t freak out.”

His dark eyes widened, “that’s not reassuring at all.”

“I was trying to bake you cookies, and then Doongie knocked the sugar bowl onto Dori.” Minho let out a quiet yelp and began inspecting Dori for any wounds. “Sorry.” You muttered shamefully, you were just trying to celebrate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho smiled as he pulled you into a hug, “that’s so sweet you tried to make something for me.”

“I guess I made something.” You muttered bitterly into his shirt, “a mess.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” he told you gently, “they’re self-cleaning,” he gestured toward Dori, “it’ll be fine. Probably.” You giggled at his last comment, relieved to find he wasn’t mad. He was an angel, if your positions were switched, you definitely wouldn’t be as cool-headed as he was right now. “Is something burning?” Minho asked after a moment and you let out a scream, running over to the oven and completely deflating when you saw the blackened cookies.

Minho aided you in opening the window and airing out the open oven so the fire alarm wouldn’t go off, “that wasn’t supposed to happen.” You mumbled sullenly as you took out the cookie sheet and cautiously broke one of them, causing it to completely shatter and reveal how deep the black reached. “I kind of don’t want to scrape off the burnt parts to get to the good stuff.

Minho peered over your shoulder and popped one of the broken pieces into his mouth. His eyes watered at the hot treat and he frantically waved a hand over his open mouth to try and cool it down. “Yeah, it’s kind of bad.” He answered honestly as he engulfed you in a back hug, “and it burned half of my taste buds before I even tasted it.” You deflated at his blunt comment, “don’t worry! Let’s go buy some cookies at the bakery down the street!”

“But I wanted to make you something to celebrate,” you pouted, looking sadly at the blackened sweets.

“Just being with you is enough,” he smiled into your neck.

You hummed and leaned into his touch, “you’re too nice.”

“Come on,” he gently tugged at you, “let’s clean up the cats and get some cookies.”

“I love you,” you told him softly as you gave him a kiss.

“Love you too.”

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the-world-that-was · 5 years ago

Text

Hittite Fried Apple Bread

Today, I'll be making another Hittite dish called "fried bread with apples". One of the universal staples of humanity is fried dough, and this is how I'll be interpreting the dish here - as lumps of fried batter with chunks of apple! Since we don't know how fried bread with apple actually was, this is taking a lot of notes from later Greek “tageientes”, and modern apple fritters.

youtube

In any case, let's take a look at the world that was! Follow along with my YouTube video above!

Ingredients 3 small apples 1 1/2 cups flour 1 tsp salt 1/2 cup cider (or apple juice) honey butter (for frying) oil (for frying)

Method

1 - Chop the Apples To begin with, peel your apples and cut out their cores. When this is done, chop your apples into chunks, and transfer them into a small bowl. Apples in antiquity were probably not as sweet as apples today, but any apple would work for this. I'm using some sweet eating apples - instead of cooking apples.

2 - Cook the Apples Put about 2 tablespoons of butter into a frying pan, and put this onto medium-high heat until it melts. Leave this for about 5 minutes until it starts to become liquid. At this point, toss your apples into the pan, and put it back over medium-high heat. Stir this occasionally for about 5 minutes, or until the apple starts to take on a golden complexion. When they're golden, take them off the heat, and let them cool down while you get to work on your batter.

3 - Make the Batter Mix your tablespoon of salt in with your flour, and whisk everything together. In another bowl, crack an egg, and whisk that together with some melted butter. Whisk it in slowly, so you don't accidentally scramble your egg. Then, pour in your cider or apple juice - Hittite Cider was unlikely to be carbonated, but this helps the batter stay light when it's cooked! A non-alcoholic substitute would be apple juice, and works just as well, but will result in a slightly denser batter if it’s not carbonated. When this is done, add your bowl of dry ingredients to your bowl of wet ingredients. Quickly whisk this all together into a lumpy batter - much like pancake batter. Then, pour your cooked apples into this. Fold it all together, and let it sit aside while you prepare your pot of oil.

4 - Prepare the Pot Pour a good amount of oil into a high-walled pot of your choice. I'm using olive oil, but you could use any neutral-flavoured cooking oil. Put this pot over a high heat, and let it heat up. You'll know when the oil is hot enough when a bit of batter instantly sizzles in the pot. Or just use a thermometer, if you have one.

5 - Cook the Batter Pour a large scoop of your apple batter into the oil, being careful not to splash hot oil onto your hands as you do. Don't overcrowd your pot, because then it'll be difficult to flip them. My pot can fit about one apple bread round, but that's also dependant on the size of your pot, and the shape of your batter rounds. Remember - even if it looks uneven, they'll come out looking and tasting amazing no matter the shape! Leave your rounds to cook for about 4-5 minutes a side, or until they're a deep golden brown. Carefully flip them over when bubbles start to form on the uncooked surface of the rounds, try and use two utensils to flip them if you can!

6 - Dry the Apple Bread When both sides of your apple bread is cooked, turn them out onto a wire rack, or a plate lined with kitchen towels, to drain off excess oil.

7 - Serve When they've drained for a few minutes, pour some honey over your apple bread, and serve up!

The finished dish is delightfully sweet, and quite light (if you used a carbonated apple-based drink). The honey adds a different kind of sweetness on top of the semi-caramelised apples inside the bread, depending on the kind of honey you use. Hittites in antiquity may have used date honey, but it is not unlikely that domesticated beehives would have provided honey to the Hittites themselves - as contemporary Mesopotamians to the south make references to Hittite Beekeepers introducing beekeeping to the Akkadians, suggesting that they kept bees, and therefore had access to honey. Even without honey, these apple bread rounds are sweet from the caramelised apples inside them.

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clearlynotjanus · 4 years ago

Photo

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Baking

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody

CW: Food mention, moral ambiguity Word Count: 2327 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Moceit, implied if you squint Dukeceit

To support my writing & get access to exclusive content not posted anywhere else, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

The flower shaped cookies sat mockingly on the stove, having long gone cold. Two tubs of white frosting had been placed on the counter with some food dye as well. Many times he had second guessed the unassuming vials of concentrated hue--was it too much? Just as many times he had stood, picked up a frosting container, rolled it in his hands, picked at the aluminum before convincing himself not to peel it back, not to sink his finger in, not to cope with Janus’ absence by consuming a gluttonous amount of sugar.

He’ll show, of course he would. Janus hadn’t forgotten or … ditched him like that before. Just because he was preoccupied with something beforehand doesn’t mean he was forcing himself to come, forcing himself to spend time with him, indulging him, patronizing him … Janus would never, he enjoyed stuff like this! Even if … even if it was just for the sweets.

“Oh dear,” Patton inhaled between his sugar-coated teeth, shaking his head down at the demolished tub of vanilla frosting.

“Am I interrupting?” Patton jumped, hiding the nearly empty container behind his back, looking exactly like Pooh Bear after a honey binge, Janus thought.

“Janus!” Patton greeted, a little too much excitement and anxiety in his voice. “N-no, of course not, I was just,” He faltered, glancing at the cookies like they held an easier way of saying, I was waiting for you, thanks for not breaking my heart.

“...Testing the frosting?” Janus teased, easing into the kitchen, amusement sly on his lips.

“Yeah! Something, hah, something like that.” Patton chuckled down at the floor, a shoulder shrugging as he apprehensively brought the evidence forward. He weighed it nervously in one hand before grinning at Janus. “I guess it’s a good thing we had two containers!”

“Mm,” He hummed down at his hands as he peeled his gloves off. A rare occurrence of course, but having spent plenty of time baking together, one Patton had at least slightly adjusted to. A patch of shiny scales that spread from Janus’ left knuckle up to his wrist gleamed with the movement of folding his gloves neatly on the counter. Occupied with the curiosity Patton felt observing something so … pretty, he didn’t notice Janus reaching with a bare thumb to wipe away a sizable glob of sugar from the side of Patton’s mouth until the sensation jogged him out of thought. Janus looked down at it before placing it between his own teeth. Despite the way Patton’s mouth gaped, Janus continued to delicately scrape the sugar onto his tongue. “A good thing, indeed.” He smirked at Patton, satisfied with watching the glow of his grin quickly turn into a scarlet blush.

“Y-yeah,” Patton breathed, absolutely dumbstruck as Janus turned towards the stove. Relieved at no longer being scrutinized so closely, his head fell; cool palms pressed to his burning cheeks and a ragged breath was pulled in as quietly as he could manage. Dully he registered the sound of bowls being placed on the counter, but they didn’t make sense through the ringing in his ears.

His thoughts raced in circles as he tried to decode the meaning behind that flirtatious gesture. Patton wasn’t stupid of course, but he was an expert at assuming far too much of others’ words and actions; a pro at falling in love with basic kindness. The habit made him think at least four times over about everything ever since Thomas’ last heart crushing break up. Janus had to know that, right? And if he did, that made him really mean, didn’t it? Why then, did Patton enjoy it so much?

“...cold now, the frosting will be easier, right?” Janus paused for Patton to answer, setting the dye vials next to some arbitrarily chosen bowls. When the other didn’t respond, Janus turned just as Patton’s hands fell in a cartoonish motion. Janus caught the action in a blur, shaking his head back with a quirked brow. Patton blinked, eyes wide before catching up to the moment.

“Y-yeah, yes!” He nodded, again too eagerly, and assumed his position at the stove next to Janus.

“Wonderful,” Janus clapped his hands softly together at his chest. “This should be easy then,” He observed as he turned his head to smile at Patton in a way that had red climbing up his neck again.

Patton forced himself to inhale through his teeth and focus on the moment instead of how close they were standing.

“Thanks for getting the bowls,” Patton reached to place the vial of yellow dye in one before handing it to Janus. Reaching for a bowl of his own, Patton realized he didn’t know which color he wanted to start with. There were so many to choose from! Patton tapped his chin as Janus took the remaining tub of frosting. The signature sound of the aluminum being pulled back accompanied the rest of Patton’s sentence, which was mumbled almost shyly. “I wasn’t sure if you would think mixing the dyes was too much effort.”

“Says the person who insists on making the dough from scratch every time,” Janus snorted easily as he dolloped a spoonful of frosting in his own bowl, and then Patton’s. Patton bowed his head with a small bit of shame, but smiled at the way Janus teased him. “I know what I’m getting into every time I join you,” Janus continued, squeezing a couple drops of yellow into his bowl. Somehow Janus made the sound of a fork scraping against porcelain repeatedly not annoying. Patton didn’t know how he managed that; it always seemed like the second he held a utensil near anything, annoying noise was unavoidable.

“I guess that’s true,” Patton mumbled, finally settling on starting with purple. He planned to do a few of everyone’s favorite colors and let them know they were on the counter for the taking. Well, except yellow and green of course. Janus always did his and Remus’ himself. Carefully he squeezed a couple drops of blue and red into his bowl, tongue poking out the side of his mouth; Paton’s telltale sign of concentration. Knowing this, Janus let a few moments pass in silence as he began artfully scraping his pastel yellow mixture into a ziplock bag, which would eventually have its tip cut off to make piping the frosting onto the perfectly shaped cookies that much easier.

As Janus finished with that, Patton beamed at his perfectly purple colored frosting. The color had come out flawlessly, his concentration paying off well. “Making some for Virgil?” Janus asked conversationally as he held a ziplock bag open for Patton to begin spooning his mixture into.

“And Roman and Logan, of course,” Patton assured with a smile of appreciation as his tongue poked out once more.

“Of course,” Janus sassed but fell silent again as he watched Patton make sure he got every inch of the frosting inside the bag. He wondered how Patton ever did this without him. Had Roman helped? He couldn’t imagine the superfluous Prince capable of staying still long enough to hold a bag like this. The idea of Logan helping was almost comedic. Perhaps Virgil then … The two did get on very well and the brood had a history of helping Janus in the kitchen, years ago.

“Alright! Next color,” Patton cheered. Janus’ smile twitched and he busied himself with folding the bag of purple, squeezing out the air to be placed on the counter for later.

The bowls were placed in the sink and the process was repeated with a couple of clean ones, now with Janus mixing the forest green with a hint of yellow to achieve the Duke’s signature lime color. He watched as Patton used about half the tube of blue for Logan’s indigo shade, complaining all the while that it wasn’t dark enough and looked too much like his own favorite baby blue.

Janus hummed as he observed it; it was true, the color was far too light. “Try a couple drops of this,” He offered, reaching and handing Patton the unopened bottle of black food coloring.

“Black?” Patton said almost indignantly. His bottom lip jutted out an inch as he looked down at the bottle, turning it in his hand.

“Well, he likes dark blue, doesn’t he?” Janus questioned, wondering how on earth he could have offended Patton with the color black.

“I guess…” He trailed off, glancing between the bottle and the pretty light blue in the bowl. “It’s just…” Patton paused, realizing his thought was a bit silly, but it felt like a good question. Janus never made him feel stupid for asking things at least, even if the answer seemed obvious. “Logan’s … on our side, isn’t he?” Janus quirked a brow, his expression devoid of amusement suddenly. “L-like, mine and …. and Roman’s… I mean.”

Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Patton had begun regretting the question; usually, Janus had some sort of answer immediately. His mind was much faster than his, able to connect things instantly where Patton couldn’t even begin to see a relation. His explanations were always succinct, at least to him. This sort of pause was … rare, if not unheard of. He anxiously rolled the bottle in his hands, wishing he could just sink out and leave.

Janus started with a quiet click of his tongue as his head turned to look at the wall behind the stove. “Since when is color indicative of that sort of thing,” Janus mused rhetorically. Another pause ensued and Patton wasn’t quite fast enough to draw his own conclusion from that line alone. He did start to wonder, however, if he had managed to hurt Janus’ feelings, and if that was why he was reluctant to answer.

“Yellow doesn’t exactly scream evil, does it,” Janus said with too much venom on his tongue as he looked back at Patton and jabbed a hand almost violently at the bright gloves resting on the counter. Patton held the bottle to his chest, shrinking away as Janus’ anger showed. He didn’t like when Janus got angry, but he at least understood it. He knew he could be frustrating.

“Neither does bright green, right?” Janus tilted the bowl towards Patton unnecessary before sighing. “Your side, my side,” He mumbled, walking away from the counter. Patton frowned at the ground as Janus reigned his frustration in.

He had a point. Yellow was bright and happy; the sun was yellow, dandelions, sunflowers … lots of good things were yellow; and green was everywhere. Not exactly the Duke’s shade of green, but green nonetheless, Patton guessed. Why had he never noticed it before? Between everyone, only he and Roman wore bright colors, but that didn’t make Virgil, in his black hoodie and equally black jeans, any less good than either of them! What did that mean for yellow and green then, if even a color as dark as indigo was to be considered light?

“I’m sorry,” Patton sighed, shoulders deflating. He cautiously approached Janus’ back.

“No, no,” Janus muttered, fingers pressed to his brow with a thumb on his cheek, a hand on his hip as he berated himself for showing so much of his aggravation. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

“I get it,” Patton’s tone smiled bitterly as he hesitatingly placed a hand on Janus’ shoulder. “I’m really frustrating and ask stupid questions sometimes.”

“Pat…” Janus turned his head to frown at Patton. “That’s not…”

“Forget I asked anything,” he squeezed Janus’ shoulder and nodded towards the cookies on the stove. “C’mon, we should finish up.”

Janus stared at the wear on Patton’s face for a long moment. The air was sweet and not just because of the frosting on Morality’s teeth. There he went, hurting Patton again. Would he ever be able to stop?

“Sure,” Janus deflated and reached up to place a hand over Patton’s on his shoulder. For a moment, Patton’s facade fell and the surprise in his expression was genuine, but the slip was only quick enough for Janus to catch.

The familiar routine continued, now silently as Janus scooped Remus’ green into a bag. Patton stared down at the black dye in his hand but only paused briefly before tearing it open and poising the tip above the bright blue frosting. Janus held his breath and it seemed Patton was doing the same.

“I’m sure Log--” Janus started, about to reassure Patton with the idea that Logan would enjoy a cookie no matter its color, but was interrupted by two black globs falling into the bowl finally. Janus closed his mouth and watched from the side of his vision as Patton began mixing the color thoroughly; slowly at first, and then as the blue darkened to a familiar indigo, faster.

“Oh,” Patton sighed, soon smiling down at the bowl of perfect Logan-colored frosting. “It’s perfect,” He grinned at Janus, seeming to instantaneously forget their altercation.

Janus’ smile back was softer, much more relieved than anything. “It is,” he nodded and reached for a bag to hold open once more. When Patton had finished scooping the frosting inside and Janus had turned to place the bag with the other two, Morality paused.

“Thanks,” He mumbled to Janus’ back, hoping he would attribute the sudden appreciation to helping with Logan’s color. Really, Patton wasn’t quite sure what it was he realized, but he did realize something about the black and white way he viewed everyone; and that was thanks to Janus, as usual.

Janus ran his hands over the ziplock bags laying atop each other. Yellow, purple, green, indigo, soon to have light blue and red together with them. The colors didn’t mean anything, even if they were obviously representative of a specific person here. Sure, they could theorize all day about why each color, but what did it matter? A little darkness in someone didn’t make them all bad, obviously.

“Of course, dear.”

Chapter One || Chapter Three

#moceitappreciationweek #moceit appreciation week #moceit week 2021 #moceit #sanders sides

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bruh-haikyuu · 5 years ago

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@arcangel-wings REQUESTED: Heya! I’m new to your blog and I really like your writing! Can I request Tenma Udai with an s/o who’s a baker while he’s in hs? So like he’s a delinquent and she’s a sweetheart who’s always giving people the stuff she bakes? Everyone thinks it’s weird but they fit together kinda thing 🥺?

A/N: Thanks for requesting!! This is über cute. Fem!Reader as alluded in the request^^

kilig. | udai tenma

word count: 2155

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) the rush or the inexplicable joy one feels after seeing or experiencing something romantic

“Chocolate is the ingredient for love~!” you say after pouring what seems to be an entire bucketful of chocolate chips into your bowl.

Your friend Saeko has seen just about enough of your nonsensical chatter about baking, your boyfriend and your abundant love for both. Already exhausted from a recent scolding by the vice-principal, she decides that it’s better off to smile and nod rather than try to come up with a snarky remark for your innocent mania.

“T-That’s a lot of chocolate,” she blurts out. When she picks up her spatula from the bowl, the girl grumbles at the sight of a liquidy trail drizzling down the utensil. “Ahh geez, it’s not supposed to be like this, isn’t it? Katagiri-sensei’s going to fail me again...”

You smile and hand her a bowl of flour. “Don’t worry, Saeko-chan. Just add a bit more flour and you’re good to go! You can never go wrong with cookies.”

The halo above your head is nearly visible. Saeko swears she can even hear angels singing to her in the background as you mix away on your fragrant bowl of dough. You don’t even seem real—from your angelic grin down to your overwhelmingly flowery aura. It’s tough enough to imagine that you’d ever talk to her of all people, but to imagine you’d go for a guy who’s just as much of a thug...

Unthinkable! Saeko shakes her head. She’d thought you’d pulled a joke on her the first time you announced that you were dating... him. Udai Tenma, star of the Boys’ Volleyball Club, a red-hot beacon of undomesticated temper.

She’d always known you liked him—though which part of him you liked is somewhat still a mystery to her—and as much as Saeko wanted to protect you from those ruffians, that absolutely infatuated look in your eyes was too much to bear. And eventually, she succumbed to your incessant ambitions of high school romance.

“You’re a saint, dude,” she sighs longingly. “I don’t get how you’re still dating that guy. I’m not really one to say anything about this, but don’t you think Udai’s kind of a jerk with the way he treats you?”

You chuckle, like a sweet grandmother about to tell a nostalgic tale to her grandchildren.

“I suppose you can say that Tenma-kun is a bit shy. He likes to act tough and mighty when he’s around people, but he’s actually just a normal boyfriend with a very sweet tooth and a penchant for manga.”

Saeko scowls. “Normal’s normal, but you have to at least let him know that you have your limits too. I really can’t stand leaving the two of you alone, w-what if Udai breaks your heart, or worse—”

“Tanaka-san. If you have time for chatter back there, then surely, you’re finished with your cookies?” at the sound of the grouchy Home Economics teacher at the front of the class, Saeko quickly returns to her bowl in a sorry attempt to look busy.

Deciding to humor her interest, you lean towards her and whisper lowly. “I’ll be fine, Saeko-chan. He may not look like it, but Tenma-kun’s actually very cute.”

In her mind, it’s much easier to simply handcuff herself to you so that you’re under her watch at all times possible. But your gaze is nothing short of genuine—you really love this guy, and the fact that you’re still with him, assures Saeko even just a tiny bit that he might not be so bad after all... with you at least.

You’re already storming away in your little world of baking. It amuses your best friend whenever you’re off making your personal masterpieces (“‘Masterpiece’ is absolutely right!” she’d say while stuffing her mouth full of your mini tarts). Each and every one of your creations are whipped up with the utmost amount of love and care, and for just the right reasons, everyone’s been pestering you to set up a bakery after high school. Your regular patrons just happen to be the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club—with the addition of the lively Coach Ukai who is rather fond of how much filling you put into your red bean buns.

As regular as regular can be, you’ve found yourself visiting the Volleyball Club clubroom after school every Wednesday to hand out your treats to not only your aloof boyfriend, but also to his friends, his coach and the prostrated manager who direfully needs a pick-me-up. And suddenly, you’re ‘Karasuno’s Cookie Goddess’.

“Ah, you’re making another batch, Y/N?” Saeko perks up when you split your dough in half.

“Yep!” you giggle, essentially a high school student drowning in love. “I want to make something special for Tenma-kun today.”

“... What’s the occasion? Is it his birthday or something?”

You shrug, face absolutely alight. “Nope, I just want to give him a surprise~”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tenma isn’t exactly unapproachable. It’s just that people tend to avoid him at all costs. Perhaps you were just bold... or remarkably stupid, but if you hadn’t addressed him that day, life would’ve probably been drabber.

Your parents and your friends (with emphasis towards your overprotective Saeko-chan) had shown their unfiltered concern when the news of your relationship circulated like wildfire. What was the analogy they used, again?

“You’re like a rabid bridge troll and a rabbit! It doesn’t work!” You could only laugh at their valiant efforts of a correlation... if they were really trying to make one. But after a few more reassuring pushes and awkward family dinners, they’ve come to be more lenient about your little ‘liaison’.

But you never feel like you have to worry when Tenma is around. In fact, when Tenma is around, you feel calm—even when he’s spouting off curses to a taller rival.

There’s a warmth unlike any other when he holds or kisses you. And though you’d have to drive him through hell and waters to say it out loud, you already know that every action he does for you is out of love. Words are material, it’s the action that counts, right?

“Sorry for the intrusion~!” you call out into the open doors of the Boys’ Volleyball Club’s space.

A flash of obnoxious yellow hair flashes before your eyes and suddenly, an imposingly tall figure appears in front of you out of nowhere. “Cookie Goddess!”

“Good afternoon, Yukimura-kun,” you smile. “Is there only you right now?”

“I’m here too, Y/N-chan,” the lax-faced captain Tokito emerges from the room in the midst of zipping up his jacket. His eyes flicker towards the packages in your hands and a smile cracks on his face. “Ooh, chocolate chip cookies today~”

You quickly raise the fragrant bags of treats into their view, bringing in the remaining swamp of boys from the clubroom. Suddenly, the common hallway is blocked by an influx of starving teenagers who are rampaging on about your existence.

“So good...” Yukimura murmurs dreamily, mouth full of chocolate. “Man, anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife if you were to cook them these everyday.”

A brazen first-year with frosted tips elbow him and sighs. “Too bad you’re taken, huh, Y/N-chan-senpai? If it were me instead of him, I’d always make it a point that ‘Heeey... guess what my girlfriend made for me today~ Isn’t she the best—”

“Oi, brat. Whose girlfriend do you think you’re talking about?”

The gangle of boys freeze up simultaneously at the grouchy voice behind you (aside from Tokito, who’s yawning at the whole ordeal). Whipping around to the dark aura boring holes into your back, you immediately light up at Tenma’s presence.

“Tenma-kun~!” you launch at him with your arms wide open. You’re ready for some sort of swerve from him, so you make sure you protect his bag of cookies with your arm... You’ve learned this counter-attack the hard way, of course.

But what you don’t expect is that your boyfriend makes no move to avoid you at all.

“H-hey! Don’t just lunge at me like that, you idiot! What if you fell down and knocked your head open?” Ah, at least the embarrassed comment is there.

You can only smile at him kindly. From the edge of your eyes, you swear that you can see a light blush dusting his face as your boyfriend gains newfound interest in your shoes.

“Come with me for a while,” he finally grumbles, effectively breaking the silence between the both of you. Grabbing your hand, Tenma leads you down the little aluminium staircase, eliciting small grates from the steps below you and a mass of curious whispers from the group you’d just left behind.

“Hey, Udai-kun~” Tokito calls out, a lilt of roguery in his tone, “Make sure to get back in time for practice, okay? And keep Y/N-chan in one piece, won’t you? We can’t get another Cookie Goddess if you don’t.”

When he turns into a secluded corner away from the prying eyes of his teammates, you can hear him audibly huff and mutter something under his breath. As silence lingers between you, you nearly forget about the reason why you came to visit.

“I made some cookies for you, Tenma-kun,” you say to him, urging the neatly wrapped bundle into his hands. “I hope you like it.”

You can clearly see the hesitation in his eyes when he takes it in his hands. You can probably guess why.

(“Y/N, your skills with a knife are scary, dude,” Saeko grimaced as she watched you trail over the dough with the gleaming blade of your paring knife.

“Aaand... done!” you proudly wiped the sweat off your forehead. It would’ve been more helpful with a cookie cutter around, but you figured that it would’ve been more heartfelt otherwise.

‘Heartfelt’, you pondered on the word for a moment. Would this be too heartfelt for such a rag-tag person like Tenma? It would probably be better to go for something simpler, just like the other days...

Nah. You shook your head as you chucked the tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven.)

You’re hoping for a shocked response from him, but Tenma only grumbles meekly. You brace yourself for another scolding for acting too chummy with him, or being too affectionate, or—

“You shouldn’t get too close with other guys.”

Wait.

Tenma crosses his arms, the curls of his hair falling gently over his forehead. His pink cheeks darken into a soft maroon. “If they found out you’re giving me this sort of special treatment, they’ll be all over you the next day, asking for it too... I don’t like it.”

The laugh that rises in your throat threatens to burst. What is this, you think. Your stomach hurt from the mere image of this innocent “delinquent” professing his jealousy for you. If he was like this all the time, wouldn’t that be an interesting change... Aah, your boyfriend really is cute, isn’t he?

A giggle escapes you and you watch him jolt in chagrin. “Tenma-kun, you’re so red.”

“I’m not!” he yells rather briskly, then shoots back at you. “You can’t say I’m red when you were all burning up as you were giving me these heart-shaped cookies.”

Touché. “I’m glad you like them, Tenma-kun.”

His gaze visibly softens up as you give him an angelic smile. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

At times like this, you really do see the boy who’d shyly confessed to you under the shade of the summer ginko tree. It wasn’t anything of a distant memory, it was just that Tenma’s usual demeanour and your unrelenting tolerance hindered the both of you from being completely outward with one another. Maybe something like this isn’t so bad after all.

“I-I have to go back to practice. You can go home by yourself, right?” your boyfriend clears his throat, urging you to leave.

Though you wished the moment would last a little longer, you know there are other countless shared opportunities with him. “Mm-hm! You do your best in practice, okay?”

He ruffles your hair and chuckles endearingly.

“Atta girl. Now go home before Tokito catches me getting all touchy-feely with you.”

Bidding him goodbye, you sullenly trudge away from your boyfriend (and his friends waving back at you from the balcony). Then the idea strikes you.

Special cookies ought to have a special flair to them, no?

Cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone, you shout, loud enough for his teammates to hear. “I love you, Tenma-kun~!”

And the crowd goes wild.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

From: Tenma-kun ♡

Subject: Untitled

(15:58) Now Tokito’s all over me thanks to you, making me do extra diving drills. You better make more of those cookies as compensation, idiot. Be prepared for it.

(15:58) Btw, don’t forget to look both ways when you cross the street on the way home. If you get into an accident, you won’t be able to apologize to me properly.

(15:58) ... Hey.

(16:00) I love you too.

#bruh haikyuu writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu #udai tenma #udai tenma x reader #haikyuu fluff #udai tenma imagine #udai tenma scenario #karasuno x reader #udai x reader #little giant x reader #sfw

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levis-little-nuggie · 5 years ago

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15 + Satan (sfw) ?

I totally didn't research apple pie recipes

So Satan is actually the brother I know the least about but this was still SO MUCH FUN to write, thank you Slip 💜💜💜 I left the reader as gender neutral as well just in case 💜 @slipperyslideyday

15: Apple Pie with Satan, SFW

The days were drifting as your exchange program continued on and you found yourself enjoying the company of a certain blonde demon. That wasn't to say you didn't like the rest of the brothers, it was just that sometimes their chaotic energy was overwhelming at times. You were curled up in one of the chairs in the planetarium, the water from the fountain reminding you of the soothing brook you used to sit by back home. The ambiance was comforting and perfect for catching up on your reading and that's how he found you.

Satan was walking around in the hallways merely to stretch his legs when he hard the familiar sound of pages turning. His interest piqued, he stalked over to your chair, a smile replacing his confused expression when he saw it was you.

"I didn't know you liked to read for fun," he'd said. You didn't hear him approach so surely the flutter in your chest was from being startled. You told him you liked the planetarium and how it offered you a bit of tranquility, a break from reality. He'd nodded in understanding and moved to leave when you called back out to him, inviting him to read with you, if he wanted. When he left, you weren't expecting him to come back with a stack of books, much less to pull up a chair so he could sit close to you.

While time passed, the only sounds that were heard besides the page turning and the fountain were little noises you'd made while reading; soft sighs and small exhales from your nose. However, you couldn't contain the laughter the bubbled up when you'd read when the protagonist was trying to woo the love interest by entering a pie baking contest thinking it was a pie eating contest.

You heard a hum and forgot you weren't alone. His green eyes piercing yours and you flushed, apologizing for the disruption. He waved it off nonchalantly and encouraged you to explain. Although he wouldn't admit it, he had been watching you lose yourself in your book. Your facial reactions to whatever you were reading, seeing you enthralled by the words, it made him feel validated, that he had someone in his life who loved books maybe almost as much as he did.

At the mention of pies, his lips turned downward slightly as he tried to remember the last time he'd had pie. "Devildom has pies?" You had asked and he laughed, "of course we have pies. You should try Madam Scream's apple pie." Upon further investigation, you'd found out that the other flavors of pie were great, but apple was his favorite.

That is how you found yourself rolling out the pie crust covered in flour in the House of Lamentation kitchen. You made sure to wait for a day you knew Beel would be out of the house so he wouldn't interfere. You woke up early and dragged Mammon out of the house so you could get the ingredients you needed that were listed in the Devildom cookbook you'd borrowed from Satan.

Mammon had pouted when you told him that you were baking something for Satan, but surrendered when you promised to make him something next time and ruffled his hair. Lucifer had walked by the kitchen, an eyebrow raised at the mess but couldn't hide the small smile at the reasoning behind your gesture.

Now, you've made pies before, but in the human world, you at least had pre-made crust. This time, you had to make the crust from scratch. But you also knew to make more crust than the recipe called for. You separated the lump of crust into 3 balls, one for the base, one for the lattice top, and the third for decoration and set them aside in the fridge.

For the filling, you weren't sure about "poison apples," but the book said that the poison was just a "flavor enhancer" and wasn't actually harmful to humans after they were baked. This left you feeling a bit disheartened as you were looking forward to licking the spoon. You weren't about to try your luck with the unbaked batter if it meant it could poison you.

Once the components were brought together, you set to work on the lattice crust, measuring out the dough in even length and width and layering the strips with meticulous precision. Rolling out the third ball of crust, you smiled and cut out the various shapes, using your fingers and whatever utensils your could find for the detail work. Arranging the pieces, you cheered as the little cat family sat happily on top of the lattice. Brushing over the egg wash, you placed your creation delicately into the oven and set the timer.

You had planned on bringing the pie to his room later as a surprise. You were not, however, planning to hear his familiar voice call out from behind you as you were elbow deep in the sink cleaning up the dishes.

"Madam Scream's replica poison apple pie," he mused, reading out loud. Of course he'd see the book, it was still open, right in the counter in plain sight. You hung your head in defeat and pulled your arms out of the water and dried them off, smiling sheepishly as you turned to face him.

"I wanted to surprise you." There were only a few more minutes left on the timer. A smirk spread across his lips as he stalked over closer to you. His hands gripped the counter on either side of the counter, cornering you, pinning you against the sink. You swallowed hard as his head lowered, bright turquoise green eyes delving straight into your soul. He lifted his hand to brush away batter that had, at one point, landed on your cheek and swiped at it with his finger. Holding you're gaze, he lapped at the batter, eyes turned predatory as your gaze honed in on the action and hummed in satisfaction.

"Delicious," his voice purred, before finally pulling away and ruffling your hair. "I'll go ahead and get that since you don't seem to be in a hurry." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but then the buzzing from the timer registered in your mind. Snapping yourself out of a daze, you went back to cleaning up the dishes. You wondered if he'd seen your choice of decoration, pouting because time stretched and the kitchen was silent. Did he leave? You didn't turn around to check, focusing instead on finishing up cleaning.

Just as you were drying off the last measuring cup, arms circled around your waist causing you to jump. Deft hands caught the cup that slipped from your fingers and placed it on the counter.

"You took forever," his voice was next to your ear sending a shiver down your spine. "I made a mess," you responded, voice barely above a whisper. His arms ushered you to turn around and walked with you over to the counter to admire your creation. The happy kitty smiling back, the crust a beautiful golden brown.

"Do I have to share this?" He hummed when you responded that you made it all for him. "I want to eat it now," Satan had his head resting on your shoulder, his chest pressed along your back.

"We have to let it cool." You swear you could hear him whine but it was barely audible.

"Good thing I brought this with me," one of his arms stretched out to pick up a book. You didn't know he'd had it with him but it made sense. He pulled away from you, his hand fell from your waist and tugged at your wrist. "Come," Satan pulled you along behind him and tugged you into his lap as he sat down in one on the chairs.

His arm snaked around your waist and you felt your cheeks heat up but you noticed he motioned to the book and you read the title. It was the book you were currently reading, on the page you left off on. You peered over your shoulder to look at him and had to bite your tongue at the faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"I wanted to read how Arthur would fair in this pie baking contest." He wanted to read your book with you. You smiled and got comfortable, raising your hand to hold the book for both of you and began reading to him out-loud. Satan closed his eyes and pressed his face into your back, breathing in your scent mixed with the smell of fresh apple pie, his decidedly new favourite scent next to the smell of pages in old books.

#obey me satan #obey me drabble #obey me satan x reader #Satan x reader #November prompt #obey me! shall we date #om!swd #gender neutral reader #fluff #sweet #sfw #om Satan #om swd #double check tags

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volexis · 4 years ago

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⤷ december 12 ▸ i have fillings for you ft. sugawara

summary: in hindsight, staying up till 2 am might’ve not been one of your best ideas. that is, until you get a call from your very frantic boyfriend asking for your help in baking cookies. what could go wrong?

warnings: there’s like one quasi-suggestive sentence but other than that pure fluff (i hope)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: lowkey ngl i don’t really like how this turned out but she’s here! i was in a suga mood a couple of weeks ago and i wrote this and somehow it turned into me creating this event lmao

note: find the rest of the advent calendar here!

You all but sunk into the mattress as you let out a deep sigh. After an exhausting day, all you wanted was to let sleep overtake you as you bundled yourself in a slew of snug, cozy blankets. Your room was peaceful. The dark emptiness of the night filled you with balmy, heady delight as you shut your burning eyes for the first time in what seemed like days.

A dull buzz rang through the room, sharp enough to pull you out of your half-asleep state. You groaned and rolled over, praying whatever noise dared interrupt you would stop soon. It did, and you smiled in relief, snuggling back into your bed. The noise returned not a second later, this time, accompanied with a bright, blinding light. You reached over to your bedside table, staring at the culprit, your phone, through bleary eyes.

Twenty-four new messages alongside seven missed calls, all from the same person: your dear, loving boyfriend. You clenched your jaw after a glance at the clock, irritation clouding your mind. You answered the incoming call with a growl. “Suga, you better have a good reason for even thinking of calling me at—”

“(Y/N) thank goodness you’ve answered, I need your help!”

Any other day you would’ve hung up on him after thoroughly berating him for calling you at such an ungodly hour, but his words were saturated with desperation and something you hadn’t heard from him in a while: unmitigated panic. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You could practically feel the warmth from his relieved smile through the phone, and you couldn’t help but glower. “Tell me what happened.”

“So, you remember I have a holiday party at work tomorrow, right?”

You confirmed, and he continued, practically tripping over his words as they sped to leave his mouth all at once. “Ikindasortaforgotthatineededtobakecookiesforthekidsand—”

“I’m stopping you right there. I did not understand a single thing you just said. It’s too early for this,” You felt bad, but you couldn’t help but laugh at your panic-stricken boyfriend. He resembled one of his students before giving a class presentation. “Please, can you slow down and repeat that?”

He took a shaky breath. His next words were slower, sounding them out in a bashful, apologetic tone. “I kind of, sort of, maybe, forgot that I promised the kids I’d bake cookies for their winter party... now all the stores closed and won’t open until after school starts…”

He tapered off as his voice softened into silence, words practically drenched in nervous anticipation. Your irritation bled into a temperate ire as you processed his words. “Let’s see if I understand this. What you called me for, at two in the morning, was to help you bake?”

His silence was answer enough. Your anger faded as his words sunk in, in its place a resigned smile. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. Anyways how’re we even going to get this done? Where are we even going to mee—”

“I’m already outside.” You swore you’d murder him one day.

You swung the door open unceremoniously, not at all surprised to see him towing bags of supplies with what could’ve passed as a sheepish smile if you didn’t know him well enough to see the gentle yet smug grin lying beneath it.

You followed him as he strode through your apartment, wincing as he upended the contents of his bags on your counter with a resounding crash. He dusted his hands and turned to you. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

You smiled, and he mirrored it with one of his own, quickly settling into a practiced rhythm beside you. He was in charge of shaping the cookies and monitoring the oven while you mixed the ingredients. The silence that soon enveloped your kitchen was nothing if not comfortable, a perfect backdrop to the soft clatter of your latest midnight endeavor.

“Babe, I’m almost out; can you pass me that flour over there?” Nothing.

“Babe? Suga? Kou?” You turned to face him and almost dropped your bowl. His hands were still; fingers wrapped tight around the scoop, dough dribbling off its edge while his eyes glued to your figure. He sported a smile sweet as sunshine, brimming with tender adoration.

“Kou?” Your breath caught in your throat, voice barely above a gentle whisper. It was enough to snap him out of whatever reverie absorbed him.

As if embarrassed to have been caught staring so unabashedly, he turned away quickly to face the bowl in front of him, pointedly avoiding your inquisitive glances. You wouldn’t have guessed Suga was feeling so flustered if it hadn’t been for the warm tint spreading over his cheeks and up to kiss the tips of his ears.

“What was that all about?” your tone dripped with the same teasing lilt he’d use to croon sweet nothings in your ear in your most intimate moments. It never failed to send electricity singing through your every nerve, and you hoped it would affect him the same way.

“Can’t I look at my beautiful partner?” His words were more brazen than you expected, having recovered from the ruffled state he was in just seconds before. You swiveled to gawk at him, scowling as he snickered at the mild disbelief in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this,” you motioned to your attire: rumpled pajamas far too large for your frame paired with mismatched socks, and, to top it all off, a starchy lime green apron. “The epitome of beauty.”

Suga's smile melted into something tender and compassionate as he let go of his utensils; his lithe fingers reached to cup your cheeks and tilt your head to meet his gaze. You held your breath, incapable of tearing your eyes from his.

“I don’t care what you’re wearing, you could be wearing nothing at all, and it wouldn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely radiant.”

He firmly pressed his lips against yours, chuckling softly at your jolt of surprise. The two of you part, and he leans back to look at you, hands drifting to hold your waist and draw you closer. He kisses you again, and again, and again; fervently as your mind spins into delicious emptiness.

You’re both brought back to reality as a timer beeps obnoxiously loud beside you. Suga laughs against your skin and reaches over to check his phone, eyes widening in horror as realization crashes over him. He peels away from you and rushes to the oven, fretting over the condition of his treats.

You smile from your place on the counter, lowering yourself onto one of the nearby chairs to watch your boyfriend dart around the kitchen. You check your phone, and it dawns on you that you’ve been baking for the past four hours. Exhaustion envelops your every sense, and you yawn widely. Suga notices and looks down, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, love. We’re almost done, though. I think this is the last batch. After that, we can go to bed.”

You nod numbly and rest your chin on your palm, eyes slipping shut as you gently succumb to your long-awaited slumber.

You’re woken by soft, dim sunlight streaming through the cracks in your curtains. Almost out of habit, you reach over and search for your phone to turn off any alarms. Instead, you find a plate of cookies, delicately frosted. A small card rested by their side, the ink partially smeared in Suga’s hurry. You laughed quietly. He must’ve woken up late.

Dearest (Y/N),

You don’t know how much I appreciate your help last night. It was extremely unfair of me to call you so late, but you responded regardless. You turned what could have been an evening of inevitable disaster into a memory I’ll treasure forever. You fell asleep after we put the last batch in so don’t worry, I cleaned everything before heading out! Thank you again, really. I can’t wait to see you when I come home; love.

Yours always,

Kou

A fond smile makes its way across your lips as you scan his neat yet rushed handwriting. You dropped the card on the table with a sigh, almost missing a small post-it note attached to the back. Eyebrows furrowing, you flip the paper over to read the words, gentle and deliberate in its delicate script.

P.S. Ironically, I wrote this before I wrote what’s on the card, which makes this more of a pre-script rather than a postscript? Anyways, I’m rambling, on to the actual message.

I got to thinking after you fell asleep last night. Your words stuck to me. I never once stopped to consider you might not believe me when I remind you of how gorgeous you are. You’re my everything; my heart is full of you, so full my words fail me even now as I write this.

I said it once, and I’ll say it eternally. You are beautiful. Though you may not see it, I’ll make sure to repeat it every day until you learn how beautiful you are.

taglist: @tsumuseum @amoroushero @mrslordexplosionmurder @ssat0ris @osamusriceballs @seraphgabrielle @1642lux

additional note: event taglist is open! Send an ask if you’d like to be added <3

#sugawara x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara imagine #haikyu!! imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyu!! x reader #hq x reader #sugawara x y/n #sugawara koushi x y/n #haikyuu fluff #sugawara koushi #sugawara fluff #e: writes

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waywardodysseys · 4 years ago

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Eight Days of Christmas - Day 5

I Never Knew the Meaning of Christmas

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff, naughty innuendos

Summary: Your ninth Christmas with Ransom Drysdale.

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Pots clang together as you pull a stack of baking trays from a cabinet. You have plenty to help with what you are to accomplish tonight - baking sweet treats with your husband while your three-month-old son, Oliver, watches from the sidelines.

A loud cry and gurgle make you turn towards your brown-haired, blue-eyed son. He’s sitting in his highchair watching you gather materials. “I’m sorry, Oli. I hate loud noises too.” You walk over and place a kiss on his soft cheek. “Daddy will be home soon.” You move back over to the kitchen island as soft Christmas music floods the kitchen from the Bluetooth speaker on the other side of the room. You grab your list and begin making sure you have all you need as the front door opens and closes.

After hanging up his coat, Ransom wanders into the kitchen. “Whoa! How much are we making this year?” Ransom inquires as he walks in and sees the kitchen island covered with various baking ingredients and supplies, he then places a kiss atop Oliver’s head. He smiles as his son smiles wide and toothless towards his dad. “You’re a lucky fella, Oli. Getting to spend your entire day with momma,” he pauses then mutters under his breath, “when it should be me.”

You shake your head and lightly laugh, “Well at least Christmas break officially begins for you next week. So, I’m sure you’ll get enough time with both Oli and me before you have to return back to work in the new year.”

Ransom walks over and wraps his arms around you. “What you makin’?” He pushes your hair aside and presses his lips against your neck.

“Cookies and those pecans both of our families love to devour.” You pause. “I gotta make a batch for my office too. Oli and I are going to visit them on Monday.”

“No pies?”

You spin in his arms and face him. “Last year you,” you pressed a finger against his chest as you emphasized the word, “Mister Drysdale, tried to make a pie and it turned out horrible. And burnt. We’re sticking to cookies and the pecans.”

Ransom laughs, “Not my fault someone was extremely turned on by seeing me cook!” His hands squeeze your hips. “You know how turned on I get just by seeing you. Missus Drysdale.”

You slap Ransom’s chest playfully, “There’s a child present!”

Ransom grins then kisses you softly. He whispers, “It won’t stop you later.” He smiles against your lips when he hears your soft, low moan. He knows he has you wrapped around his finger because he’s wrapped around yours. “And you know I won’t stop you.”

You needed air. Your body’s heated from his words and actions. You step out of his arms and grab a mixing bowl so you may begin. “You’re incorrigible, Ransom.”

He smirks, “Only with you.” His stomach growls loudly then he frowns and looks at the kitchen, “What about dinner?”

“We can order in. I’m not trusting you with cooking anything when I have to bake.”

Ransom shrugs and huffs jokingly, “Okay. Okay.” He smiles then eyes the kitchen island. He rubs his hands together, “Where shall we begin?”

A couple of hours later, the entire house is smelling of cinnamon-sugar pecans and sugar cookies. Ransom is nearly covered in flour because it slipped out of his hands when he was trying to open it by ripping it open when you suggested he just cut the top of it off. Of course, he didn't listen, and the bag dropped and burst open. You laughed; glad you had bought extra. Oliver laughed loudly at his father’s accident too. Ransom turns towards his son, “I thought you’d be on my side, Oli!”

Oliver laughs again, kicking out his legs and hands. Ransom chuckles and goes over to his son’s side. “You and I gotta stick together. We gotta keep momma on her toes.”

You look over and see Ransom tracing Oliver’s cheeks with a finger. You smile, knowing he’s already a good father and will continue to be one. “What about making a cake? Think you can do that?” you inquire.

Ransom looks at you, brow raised. “What happened to my wife? She said I wasn’t to make anything,” he stresses that particular word like you had earlier, “while she baked.”

You laugh, “Maybe I want to see my husband doing something in the kitchen. You know give me some, uh, motivation for later?” You look at him with a sly smile then playfully wink.

Ransom stands hurriedly, “Well, if that’s what gets me…” He stops when you give him a glaring look. He shrugs and chuckles, “I don’t think he can understand us, sweetheart.” He points back to Oliver.

“Says you,” you respond as Ransom opens cabinets doors looking for a clean mixing bowl since a few are already in the sink. “Ah! Found one!” he exclaims as he brings it out then places it on the counter. He then shuffles over to the pantry and finds a boxed cake mix. There’s no way he was following a recipe card for a made from scratch cake. Besides, no one really could tell the difference. “Who’s getting this cake?”

You’ve returned your focus to what you were doing a few moments ago. You slice the store-bought rolled sugar cookie dough then place them on baking sheets. You dunk some of the raw cookie dough into a bowl of sprinkles, while others go directly to the baking sheet, they would be decorated with icing after they come out of the oven. “Take it to work. Show people you care.”

Ransom scoffs, “I make sure they get their bonuses, make sure the Christmas party is hosted in some lavish hotel. I do care.” He walks back to your side, sneaks a piece of the raw cookie dough, and scarves it down. “I still don’t get why we have to make goodies. The store sells its own!” he remarks.

“I saw that,” you utter softly. You then counter his remark by stating, “And because it’s the thought that counts Ransom. Have you not learned that yet?”

“I’ve learned it. You’ve taught me well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss against your cheek.

“Then I shouldn’t hear any complaining,” you tease before you give him a quick peck on the cheek in return.

Ransom scoffs, “Well, at least the thought counted when I gifted you with a baby last Christmas.”

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale!” you exclaim with a laugh.

Ransom shrugs and smirks, “What! It’s true!” He begins to gather the ingredients he needs and proceeds to place them all in the bowl, along with the cake mix. “How do I mix this?”

“Seriously, Ransom? The electric mixer is in the pantry. Did you get a pan ready?”

“Knew I was missing something,” Ransom remarks as he heads back to the pantry and grabs the mixer. He searches for a cake pan, greases it then sets it aside. He goes back to where the bowl is the mixer. “Where are the--”

“Utensil drawer,” you answer.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You hum in response then watch as he has a somewhat difficult time putting the beaters into their designated holes in the mixer. You laugh and begin to say something but are stopped by his words: “Don’t even say it.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Ransom rolls his eyes, “Well, you were either going to say something about how I can’t get these things in their holes,” he grimaces realizing what he just said. “Or something even dirtier than that.”

You snort, “I guess you’ll never know.”

Ransom finally gets the beaters in place and turns on the mixer. He realizes he might get batter all over him, so he turns it off then places the mixer into the bowl and turns it on. He proudly smiles to himself as he begins to move the bowl with his hands slowly, like he’d see you do plenty of times, making sure he gets the entire mixture thoroughly mixed together before pouring into the pan. Finally! Something I can do!

“My husband might indeed get lucky tonight,” you state as you take out a baking sheet filled with pecans coated in a cinnamon-sugar concoction. You then place the baking sheet full of uncooked cookies in the oven.

“You gave me something easy, Y/N.” Ransom retorts.

“I know. I wasn't about to give you something hard to do.”

“I’ll give you something hard later tonight,” Ransom states as he looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows.

You shake your head and laugh as you begin stirring the pecans. Oliver laughs bubbly as he moves his eyes between his mother and father. You look at your son. “Don’t ever ask your daddy to cook you anything Oli.”

“Hey! I can use the microwave!” Ransom boasts as he finishes mixing the batter. He sets the mixer aside. He absentmindedly reaches for the plug and unplugs it. He then empties the batter into the cake pan and makes sure it evenly spreads out. ‘No one wants an uneven cake’ your words echoing in his head. “May I put this in the oven?”

“Yes.” you reply as you move out of the way.

After Ransom places the pan in the oven and sets a timer, he walks back over to the mixer. He pushes down on the button to release the beaters, but instead he turns it on, and batter begins to fly everywhere. “Fuck! I thought I unplugged this! What the…,” he seethes as he reaches over and finally unplugs the correct cord. He then examines the cord he did unplug, which was to the coffee maker.

You begin laughing and Oli joins in with his spirited giggles.

“It’s not funny!” Ransom exclaims as he frustratedly presses the button, takes out the beaters then places them in the sink. “GODdamn it!” He begins mumbling curses under his breath as you and Oli continue with your laughter.

You grab a dish towel and walk over to him. You pull on his sweater to make him look at you. You smile as you wipe away some of the batter on his neck and chin. You see a smear of batter on Ransom’s cheek and you lick it off. You moan, “Tastes good.”

“Hopefully, you’re talking about me,” Ransom pridefully remarks.

“The batter. I already know you taste good.” you state then are enveloped in Ransom’s arms. “You still have batter on your clothes!”

Ransom chuckles, “All the more reason to discard them later!”

You slip out of Ransom’s arms as your timer dings for the cookies. You grab them out of the oven and place the baking sheet on a cooling rack. You watch as Ransom walks over to his son and gets him out of his highchair. Oliver smiles and clings onto Ransom’s sweater as the two men walk over to the stove.

“Nearly time to put you to bed Oli. Your momma and I have plans.” Ransom happily states as Oli moves his hands against Ransom’s sweater, finding some batter. He looks at it wide eyed. Ransom smiles then takes his own hand and pretends to lick it. “It’s fine. I promise. Probably better than what momma gives you.”

Oli grins from ear to ear as he looks at his dad. He presses his hand to his mouth and wipes his hand all over his face, which causes the batter to smear across Oliver’s face. Ransom chuckles as he finds some paper towels and wipes it all away.

You look at your husband and son. Your heart overflows with emotion as you take them in and take in this moment. You stop what you’re doing, walk over to them, and cup one of Ransom’s cheeks then cup Oliver’s cheek with your other hand. “I love both my boys. Thankful for each of you.” You press a kiss against Ransom’s cheek. You then kiss Oliver’s cheek. “Thankful the love of my life gave me the most beautiful son in the world.” You wouldn’t trade either of them for anyone else. You then burrow into Ransom, wrap an arm around him, and keep a hand against Oliver’s cheek.

Ransom keeps Oliver glued to one side with one arm while the other snakes around your frame. He presses a kiss to Oliver’s forehead. He then presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m thankful for a loving wife who’s given me the gift of a son and a family. Who’s shown me what Christmas really means.”

A soft melody of music begins to fill the air. Ransom smiles, familiar with the song now playing. How fitting. He hums along with the tune as you and he begin slowly swaying to the music. When the chorus begins, Ransom whispers while looking deep into your eyes, “I never knew the meaning of Christmas until you came into my life.”

You smile in return. Infusing this into your memory bank, knowing eventually Christmas will become Ransom’s favorite holiday, and time of year.

#eight days of christmas #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x y/n #christmas series #ransom drysdale x reade #eight days of christmas day 5

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missguomeiyun · 4 years ago

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hotteok from scratch

Starting to watch videos on Korean street food ~8pm is a dangerous move. But I did it. & I started craving hotteok - the sweet pancake that typically contains brown sugar & crushed walnuts.

So I decided to make it.

The photos are not the greatest bcos of the lighting. .. sorry!

Making the dough: 1.25 cup flour, 1 tsp white sugar, 0.5 tsp sugar, & 1 tsp instant dry yeast.

The recipe I used said to sieve all these ingredients, then add in the ‘liquid’.

As you can see, I did not do that :P

I added 0.5 cup lukewarm milk, then mixed it all together.

The dough was surprisingly very easy to mix! Cover with plastic wrap & let it ferment till it gets to 2x it’s pre-ferment size.

...A little over an hr now......... & it has not changed. At all o_O

Make the filling: brown sugar + crushed walnuts.

* the making-of part got kinda messy bcos both of my hands were oiled so I skipped photos.

Long story short: divide the dough into 5-6 pieces, lightly oil your hands so the dough doesn’t stick to you, flatten each piece & scoop in some sugar+walnut filling, then close it.

Try to make a flattened shape at this step as it will make the pan-frying slightly easier (instead of rolling them into balls).

Oil your frying pan.

Put the pancakes in & pan-fry on medium heat for at most 3 mins each side.

Flip & repeat.

Ppl have this flat metal circle utensil to press down on the dough but I don’t have one, so I used a small plate. I brushed on some oil then pressed down on the pancake with it.

Done~

I’m quite happy with how these turned out.

I think the edges could use a little more ‘browning’. But hey! They didn’t burst & the sugar didn’t leak everywhere :D

Cross-section of 2 pancakes.

So I can guarantee that the filling was ‘centered’, which was nice! The dough was good; right consistency despite not rising during the fermentation step ( I don’t know what happened; I think my house is too old). It was chewy with a bit of hardiness. The best part was that it didn’t have the yeast-y flavour! The filling.. . could probably use more crushed walnuts so there’s more crunch texture but not a big issue. I remember ages ago when I made these, I overfilled them so the brown sugar leaked out when I pressed down on the pancakes; so I didn’t add so much this time. It was a sub-optimal filling:dough ratio bcos most ppl will likely think it’s not sweet enough. I’ll try to add more filling in the future!

#homemade #homecooking #korean food #food #street food #hotteok #sweet pancake #pancake

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brotherlysuggestion · 5 years ago

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Some basic baking/cooking tips that I've picked up over the years:

Basic tips:

Food keeps burning on the outside but is underdone on the inside? Try a lower heat for a longer time. This goes for both the stove top and oven. All foods. Eggs, pancakes, cupcakes, cookies, whatever.

Put a little bit of oil and salt in the water you're cooking your pasta in. The oil will help keep the noodles from sticking together, and the salt helps add flavor.

In general, salt the water of stuff you boil! Contrary to popular myth it doesn't make water boil any faster, but it adds some nice flavor to your potatoes/pasta/etc.

Adding coffee to a boxed chocolate cake mix can bump up the taste a few notches! I like to brew black coffee and use it in place of the plain water the recipe asks for.

When using a stand mixer, mix in the flour on a lower setting, half a cup/cup at a time. If you put in a bunch of flour in at a high speed, it'll poof into a giant flour cloud and coat everything that you love in a fine coat of flour dust.

Crust on your pie/cheesecake keeps burning? Put tin foil around the rim of the pan, covering the crust. It will protect it from getting so overdone.

If you like brownies that are a little gooey in the middle, add an extra egg! It makes them super gooey without actually being undercooked/unsafe to eat.

In math, 4 of 1/4 cup = 1 cup. This is not how measuring cups work. I don't know why, but 2 half cups have more flour in them than 1 whole cup. If you double a recipe just use the original measurement cups/spoons twice, otherwise your ratios will end up screwy.

If you mix melted butter with a cold liquid, the butter WILL resolidify into little chunks! If you need your liquid butter to stay liquid, mix in room temp/warm liquid!

Softened butter gives a different texture to dough/batter than melted butter. Know which one your recipe calls for.

There’s multiple levels that your oven rack can sit on, like a shelf! They’re little grooves in the wall of your oven that the metal grate sits on. You almost always want to be using the very middle one, unless the recipe specifies otherwise.

If a recipe calls for spices/herbs/etc but comes out bland on first attempt, try it again! My rule with bland recipes is to try it twice: once seasoned as directed, and once with seasoning adjusted as if the author of the recipe is a suburban soccer mom who thinks ketchup is spicy. Go ham and double/triple/whatever the spices to your tastes. Try it with adjusted spices at least once before tossing the recipe out.

Weird but common terms in recipes:

If a recipe calls for "stiffly beaten egg whites" it means to beat them until they're white and foamy/frothy throughout!

If a recipe tells you to "fold" batter, it's a method of gentle stirring that gets a lot of air into the batter. You sort of mix the batter up and over itself using vertical strokes instead of horizontal.

Also "cutting in" butter or margarine is a specific mixing technique. You use a fork or a knife to incorporate very small chunks of butter into your flour/dry ingredients. This is a really good technique for making flaky pie crusts/biscuits (American biscuits, that is)

All of these weird terms are easily googled and have written or video tutorials on how to do it!

Safety advice:

If you ever use a pressure cooker; please, PLEASE very carefully read how to release/equalize the pressure before attempting to open it. It will straight up explode. It is dangerous for both your house and body. Don't just wing it, please.

Don't use wax paper in place of parchment paper in the oven! Parchment paper and wax paper look and feel very similar, but parchment paper is coated in a silicone layer while wax paper is coated in a wax (generally paraffin). Silicone is heat resistant. Wax melts off of the paper, potentially allowing the paper to catch fire. Don't catch your food on fire.

DO NOT try to put out a grease fire with water! Turn the heat off and either smother it by putting a lid/cover over it until it is deprived of oxygen and goes out, or smother it using baking soda or salt. DO NOT use flour/sugar/baking powder to try and smother the fire. These look similar, but their chemical makeup is different enough that they will catch on fire and make a bigger mess.

Nervous about food being uncooked in the center? Open them up! I always stab into the pancakes/potatoes/meat I cook to check that it's cooked thoroughly. I know it doesn't look picture perfect, but it'll be okay. You're allowed to check.

Dietary restrictions:

If you're using gluten free flour try adding some unflavored gelatine, pectin, or agar agar powder to add moisture and keep it from crumbling! Gelatine isn't vegan/vegetarian safe, but both pectin and agar agar are! About a teaspoon of powder to cup of flour usually does it, but there's a lot of guides online.

Egg replacements for recipes are numerous! Yogurt, ripe mashed bananas, peanut butter, agar agar in water, silken tofu, and cornstarch with water all work really well depending on what you’re making and how many eggs you’re replacing! There’s lots of guides online for this.

Recipe calls for buttermilk, but you can’t/don’t drink milk? Put in about a teaspoon of vinegar per cup of plant based milk (almond milk, rice milk, soy milk, etc.). BAM, buttermilk substitute!

Tofu, mushrooms, eggplants, and beans are all really good meat substitutes!

For disabled and neurodivergent bakers/cooks:

You’re allowed to sit down when baking! Get your ingredients and measuring tools all laid out in one place and take a seat while you blend ingredients! Take a seat while you stir your food on the stove! If standing is unpleasant for you, don’t do it!

If you have trouble keeping track of what ingredients you’ve put in already, make a list on a piece of scratch paper! Write down all of your ingredients and check them off when you put them in! If you need help to keep track of how many cups/tablespoons/etc. of something you’ve put in already, put a tally mark after each cup you put in! Then if you forget/lose track, you have a little checklist showing you where you are!

If you can’t handle the noise/stimulus of mechanical mixers, think about whether or not you can mix it by hand! It might take longer than when using a mixer, but it’s worth it if you otherwise couldn’t do it.

If the noise/stimulus of metal clinking against ceramics is bad for you, there’s multiple ways to get around that! Plastic bowls are inexpensive and will dull the noise of a spoon hitting them! Depending on what you’re doing, rubber spatulas can be used in place of a metal utensil, and those will make very little noise! If you need a fork replacement or a stiffer utensil, then check out baby utensils! Oftentimes forks/spoons/etc. for small children will be coated with a rubbery material on the outside, and if you can find them in sizes that aren’t too tiny, it will also muffle the noises a lot.

Reassurances that you aren’t a bad baker/cook:

All those cool cookie frosting designs from instagram? They frosted those using mostly/all royal icing. It's a runny icing that hardens quickly and is great for decorating cookies. Regular cake frosting won't ever really achieve the same effects as royal icing. If you've ever tried cookie decorating and it came out horribly then you probably aren't a bad decorator, you probably just didn't have the right frosting.

It’s okay if you feel like there’s too much for you to remember! Most all (good) recipes lay everything out for you and will specify if you need to pay special attention to not overmix, or making sure the butter stays liquid, etc. etc.

Very few people can “just eyeball it” and cook/bake (especially bake) well without using recipe measurements. If you want to adjust seasoning, or flavor components, that’s fine! But there’s no shame in needing to follow recipes to get the base down correctly. I’ve been baking/cooking for 10+ years and I have to follow recipes!

Try not to stress out too much about the end result! Baking and cooking can be incredibly therapeutic. Try to enjoy the process if possible! Put on some music or a television show/movie in the background!

Okay, that’s all I have for now, but go out there and bake! I promise that you can do it! As long as you have a good recipe and some spare time/energy, you can do it!

And feel free to contact me if you have more questions! I’m not an expert, but I’d love to help!

#mod static #not a suggestion #baking #cooking #adulting #lifehacks #protip #life advice #life hacks #cooking advice #baking advice #food #advice #ask to tag #sorry for taking so long on this you guys!#I meant to have this done sooner but I got so wrapped up in projects over the holidays #I wanted to add more but I have to call it good enough for now I think #I hope that this helps somebody!

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dajaregambler · 5 years ago

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HeliosR - Ren Kisaragi Card story ‘‘Cookies are sweet’’

Translation of Ren Kisaragi’s 4* ‘’Gothic Halloween’’ card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Marion: Ren. Make some new dough using the ingredients here.

Ren: Eh… Why me…?

Marion: Don’t you get it by looking around. Jacqueline, Jack and I have our hands full already with throwing out the burned cookies and cleaning the oven.

Ren: ….I’m not saying I'll help.

Marion: What was that?

Ren: N-nothing…

Gast: I opened the window. Think it can help with airin’ out...

Gast: The room’s decorated all nicely, it’d be a waste if the burnt smell kept hanging in the air

Marion: Gast, you join Ren and make some batter. Cut out the dough too when it’s ready.

Marion: We’ll be handing these cookies out to the public, so it doesn’t matter how many there are. Work your fingers to the bone.

Gast: Y-yeah, understood… It’s kinda like some awful factory in here.

Gast: Alright! Let’s give it a shot. I’ll use the utensils over there, Ren you use the stuff that’s here...

Ren: ….

Gast: Hm? Ren, what’s up?

Ren: These cookies, how do you make them?

Gast: Aah, haven’t done it before? That’s fine, watch how I do it and we’ll try it together then

Gast: That reminds me, you’re not fond of sweets huh. Which is prolly why you don’t make ‘em

Gast: You okay with the smell? Sometimes there’s people that can’t handle it

Ren: Finished mixing the eggs. What should I do next

Gast: Hm? Aah, next is this… put in the bread flour and mix it. It’s easier to mix if you put it in batches instead of all of it at once.

Ren: Got it….

Gast: Say, is there a reason why you don’t like sweet stuff?

Ren: …..

Ren: Don’t have any real reason in particular. I ingested enough sweets for a lifetime worth of it, which is why I never get in the mood to eat some

Gast: A lifetime worth of sweets? What’cha mean?

Ren: …… When I was a kid, I ate pancakes made by Will for me and Akira as a snack

Gast: Will? And aren’t pancakes supposed to be sweet?

Ren: That was anything but close to the level of ‘sweet’. Even calling it ‘sickly sweet’ won’t cut it

Ren: Back then I noticed his senses weren’t normal but had no idea of how to tell him….

Ren: Will was happily smiling and looking at us expectantly, so we ate about 10 pancakes stacked up while crying in front of him

Ren: Since then I’ll feel full just by seeing sweets in front of me, I end up refusing to eat

Gast: Ooh, that’s why huh… Kinda close to being traumatic isn’t it

Gast: Dunno how tough it was for you guys but hearin’ about it is funny…kinda pleasant even.

Ren: Funny?

Jacqueline: Hey hey, what about pancakes?

Gast: Ooh, Jacqueline. You heard that just now?

Jacqueline: I only heard ’pancake’ being mentioned. Marion-chama seemed to be interested, so Jacqueline went to ask instead!

Marion: J-Jacqueline! Stop it!

Gast: Ahahah, now that you mention it Marion does love pancakes. Couldn’t help but start droolin’ at the thought of a sugary pancake?

Marion: Hah? Just because it’s about pancakes it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make fun of me

Gast: Owah, my bad. No need to frown at me like that...

Marion: Don’t bother talking about nonsense, concentrate on making cookies. Jacqueline, let’s finish up cleaning the oven.

Jacqueline: Yes-nano~♪

Gast: What a hot-headed factory boss. Don’t work seriously and you’ll get beaten by his whip

Gast: But should be fine if our hands are moving, feel free to tell me more stuff, Ren

Ren: ….Hah?

Gast: It’s totally not like you to talk about yourself like that. And I mean, well, it being about old memories with Will and Akira is even more rare….

Ren: ….

Gast: Besides, Will having no sense of taste… Thought he was the type of serious guy to do anything flawlessly, so this is a bit unexpected

Gast: Though I’ll keep it to myself since telling him about it will 100% sour his mood.

Gast: Also... I remembered ‘cuz of the oven but, seems that Akira has a knack for makin’ the microwave explode too. I knew he was bad with electronics, to think it went that far though...

Gast: Haha. Will has no sense of taste, Akira sucks with electronics, and then there’s you with no sense of direction.... You guys are a funny bunch.

Ren: …….

Gast: Eh, Ren? Why the silence?

Ren: I’m done talking

Gast: Could it be that upset you? My bad, it wasn’t my intention to hurt your-

Ren: Next…

Gast: Eh?

Ren: I mixed all of the ingredients. Tell me what I should do next.

Gast: A-aah…. And here I thought we were minglin’…

Ren: Don’t be selfish. I don’t have the slightest bit of intentions to socialize

Gast: Haah, cold… Anyway, it’s whatever for me, but shouldn’t you give these cookies at least one shot?

Ren: ? ….Why?

Gast: Think it’s Marions way of trying to communicate with you

Gast: Eh, nothing but a guess though… Even going out of his way to decorate the room, can’t help but have that kind of hunch about it....

Gast: But, it’s fine if you can’t try ‘em out since you don’t like sweets

Ren: …….

Gast: And…hup. Gimme that baking sheet over there. We’re gonna roll out the dough and let it rest in the fridge for some time

Victor: -Welcome. Help yourself to some coffee while waiting until the preparations for the inspection are ready.

Ren: ...Yeah.

Victor: Oh? ...What is that?

Ren: Cookies made to hand out on Halloween. Right now Marion is making a lot of these back at our room.

Victor: I see. How nice, seems they’d go along with coffee.

Ren: You can have them. I don’t like sweets

Victor: It’s alright for me to have them? I’m awfully grateful that it’ll be appropriate while I’m in the middle of preparing but...

Ren: …..

Ren: I’ll only take one cookie. You can have the rest.

Victor: Alright then, thank you very much. ….Is it to your liking?

Ren: …………………..It’s sweet

Victor: Fufu. Showing that you don’t enjoy it while eating, that is quite curious.

Notes:

ren + akira + will = triple baka?

#heliosR #helios rising heroes #ren kisaragi #gast adler #victor valentine #marion blythe

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

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Piece of Cake

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I got hungry writing this so now you can get hungry reading it! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Okay, I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants to know why the hell we should do this’, Captain Fowler sighed standing in front of the briefing room. ‘Just so you don’t give me shit, my superiors decided it’s necessary to do some image polishing. We will hold a baking competition next Sunday. The revenue will be donated to New Jericho to help newly deviated androids after the revolution.’ A collective groaning passed through the rows. Most had hoped to use their free weekend in other ways than bake something at work and even those who had to work on Sunday had better things to do. ‘Right. Now to move on to the second point on my list. Nines? If you were so nice to stand up?’ All heads turned towards the new face in the force. An android that looked uncannily familiar to Connor and gave them all an uncertain little wave of the hand. ‘This is Nines, an RK900 model. He is our newest Detective recruit from the Academy. Be nice to him.’ More groaning. A baking competition was bad enough, now they had another damn android in their ranks. Perfect. But Fowler was quick to silence them: ‘By the way, I knew I had to give you all an incentive to perform your best in the competition. Reed hadn’t had a partner in a long time. Whoever performs worst will be partnered up with him.’ ‘The phck?’, Gavin revolted instantly and the rest of the DPD had a similar opinion about it. Fowler ignored the comments. ‘And- Whoever performs second to worst has to show the newbie around.’ Again the group started to complain, but Fowler just smiled and left, his amusement barely hidden when he ordered: ‘Dismissed!’

Gavin spent his free Friday contemplating over his cookbooks. He knew he wasn’t the best with baking. He occasionally made bread and he was able to cook some basic meals. He hadn’t much time to do more anyways and he didn’t bother too much with it. His cupcakes were decent enough, he thought. But they didn’t really taste good. And he needed to be good. The moment he had seen the new android, he had decided he wanted nothing to do with the man. He looked like Connor, he seemed to behave like him, and he was an android. Enough reasons for him. So, he definitely didn’t want to be second to worst. But he could do that, right? He would practise a bit and simply recreate the recipe on Sunday. He would practise until his cupcakes were perfect. It would be an easy win.

On Sunday, half the DPD’s bullpen was redesigned as a makeshift kitchen: Mobile heating plates were installed, and Mixers stood all about as well as portable ovens. Most of the DPD that had been condemned to take part in the competition already milled about. Gavin repositioned his heavy bag of ingredients, bowls and utensils on his shoulder and headed for a station in the far end of the room. Until Tina held him back and gave him a little piece of folded paper with an evil smirk. ‘You are the last to arrive, Gavin. So you end up with the last person not partnered up yet: Nines.’ ‘The phck?’ Gavin unfolded the paper and evidently, there was the name RK900 written on it. ‘You are supposed to work together on this and produce two different pastries. Did no one tell you?’ ‘No!’ ‘Well now I have’, Tina laughed at him. ‘Consider it a team building exercise.’

Gavin went to his station and glared at the android that joined him as he entered the bullpen minutes later. ‘Hello, my name is Nines’, he introduced himself, holding out his hand. Gavin ignored it. ‘I know. Name’s Reed. What did you plan on doing?’ ‘Cupcakes?’, the android offered, letting his hand fall to his side. ‘No phcking way. That’s my thing. Choose something else!’ Nines looked to the ground. ‘I can’t do anything else.’ ‘Then download some program or something.’, Gavin groaned already frustrated when they hadn’t even started. ‘That would be cheating.’

Gavin stared at the thing, thoughts of murder running through his head. Alright, that wasn’t too bad. He thought to have memorised the recipe from a cake somewhere… It would work, they would be fine. He just had to be better than second to worst. He would manage. ‘Alright, then let’s begin, tin-can.’ The android systematically began adding ingredients while Gavin began preparing the oven and the cupcake tray, all the while watching Nines’ hands. ‘Hey, don’t you think you should weigh your amounts first? Instead of just throwing shit in?’ ‘I don’t need a scale. I can measure the force of it on my hand and subtract.’ Gavin shrugged. Right. Android. ‘Alright, let’s put them in the oven and be done with the first hopefully better-than-second-to-worst batch’, Gavin announced, his mood actually not too bad realising that he had spent barely an hour here and already had their first project in. ‘It hasn’t reached optimal pre-heating temperature’, the android disagreed. ‘You kidding me?’ ‘No, the recipe asks for 176.67 degrees Celsius. It takes the oven 14.7 minutes to reach that temperature.’ Gavin looked at the android truly rethinking his life choices. ‘And what would that be in normal units?’ ‘The metric system is the “normal” for most countries and apart from Kelvin, what isn’t commonly used out of scientific-‘ ‘What is it in Fahrenheit?’ ‘350°F. We still need three more minutes until-‘ Gavin grabbed the tray and slammed it into the oven, causing a bit of the dough to swash over the edge. He didn’t care anymore.

Nines blinked at him, but apparently managed to accept what happened. ‘What did you plan on baking, Detective?’ ‘Phcking told you already: cupcakes’, Gavin hissed. ‘The task was to create two different-‘ ‘I know!’, the man shouted and earned some surprised looks from the people around him. ‘I phcking know, let me think for a minute!’, he demanded a bit quieter once they had turned back to their stations. But the android actually shut his mouth for once. Gavin turned to the ingredients he had left. He had to remember the recipe for a marble cake. He had baked this cake every year for Eli’s birthday when they had still lived at home. You wouldn’t forget something like that, surely.

He patted the egg carton before opening it. You needed eggs, that much he was sure of. How many? No idea. Butter and flour were a must have in every recipe and they still had enough of that. Sugar and baking powder. Maybe milk? Maybe not? He remembered rum was also part of it, but they didn’t have any and borrowing some from Connor who was working on something ambitious he had currently set on fire to be fancy with the glazing felt too much like admitting defeat. Cocoa-powder and chocolate also laid on the table. He shrugged. So much for practising the entirety of Friday.

Gavin went on with mixing his ingredients together. Like always he feigned total confidence despite complete nescience. He added what he felt was right, using the scale to determine an amount that sounded convincing enough. He decided against the milk in the end and ended up with two batches of dough that could be the real thing. He was quite proud of himself. Both batches had the right respective colour and a consistency cake-dough could theoretically have. He was about to go on with it, as the android next to him opened the oven. ‘It isn’t ready yet’, Gavin commented absent-mindedly, still looking at the bowls. ‘They will take a few more minutes.’ ‘How do you know?’, Nines asked. ‘Doesn’t smell right yet’, Gavin said. ‘But the recipe spoke of-‘ ‘Recipes are lying’, the human interrupted. ‘You need to feel when they are ready.’ ‘Feel when they are…’, Nines seemed to mull it over, but then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. The first recipe for cupcakes was written in 1796. One would think they got the baking time right by now.’ With these words, Nines took the tray out of the oven, continuing to lift them onto a plate by tugging them out by the paper holder. ‘Well it’s your pastry’, Gavin shrugged, thinking that the machine just added one project with the potential to be a phck-up to the pool. More chances for him to succeed. With a sigh he added both batches of his dough to a ring cake form and put it on a tray. Now he just had to wait for it to bake and felt quite confident of reaching his goal to be at least third last.

‘Okay then, let’s look at the results!’, Fowler announced once all stations were cleared. ‘First we have Connor!’ He went over to Hank and Connor’s table. The cake looked like the pictures in a cookbook, something you would never be able to recreate, and the damned android did it. It was a very ambitious take of a layer cake with cream and a flambéed glazing. Phcking show-off. Hank had prepared macarons that apparently tasted delicious. Well, that was to be expected from an android and a family man. Next up were Tina and Chris. Tina had made an assortment of tiny cakes with different toppings and tastes. Gavin knew first-hand that they were amazing from all the times she had made them for their movie nights. Chris had opted for a simple yet suasive apple strudel. Again, probably taught by helping his wife. Wilson and Person had created waffles and pancakes. Gavin was tempted to call that cheating, but they had also prepared trimmings of hot cherries, cream and cinnamon apples. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

As Fowler walked over to their table, Gavin held on to the hope that they would be better than Person and Wilson just because they had put just a bit more effort into it. But his heart sunk as he tasted a cupcake and scrunched up his face in disgust. ‘The dough is still raw inside!’ Immediately Gavin hoped that his would be the worst. If he was the absolute worst, he would be partnered up with himself and Nines had to show his phcking self around. That would be fine. That would be perfectly fine. The other way around though… ‘Okay, Reed, this is cake, but it tastes horrible.’ Well shit.

‘Let’s conclude!’, Fowler announced in a festive tone that made Gavin sick. The Captain had immense fun by doing this, Gavin was sure of it. ‘Nines is partnered up with Gavin, Gavin shows him around, and everything except of their projects will be sold to raise money for New Jericho!’ Gavin and Nines used the short break to look at each other in fear of the things yet to come. Fowler turned to them and grinned knowingly. ‘Case closed!’

#detroit become human #dpd #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Captain Fowler #let's be honest he just wanted some snacks #initial idea was for Gavin to try something ambitious so he would most definitely fail and be partnered up with himself #only to discover that Nines is just absolutely horrible #But I liked this better #I learned a lot of new words with this what the hell is the english language #also boring language because ring cake isn't as funny to say as Gugelhupf #don't ask me why we call it that it doesn't really make sense #didn't expected to search what year cupcakes first made for an android story but here we are #want cake now

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years ago

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A Real Girl Chapter 3: Holiday Blueprints- er Misprints?

A/N: Hello!!! Took too long to update as I always do, it seems. I’m sorry about that. Just had really bad writer’s block lately. Unexpectedly did some SayoLisa things while I was gone. I baked a crap ton of cookies lately, around 100 pieces to give to neighbors for the holidays. I even ended baking while waiting for the new year haha. Also bought a new guitar since I left my old one back at my uni when I came home during the COVID lockdown back in May due to travel difficulties, and I was starting to really want to play. My fingers hurt like hell yesterday and the day before coz I might have overdone it after not touching a guitar for nearly 7 months. Anyways, Happy Holidays everyone, and Happy New Year!

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

A Real Girl Chapter 3: Holiday Blueprints- er Misprints?

You’d think that being something of a…robot (Sayo wasn’t sure if that was what she was, but she supposed you could call her that) would make her quite efficient with measurements and weights, and allow her to smoothly function in fields requiring such processes. However, as she leaned in impossibly close to her liquid measuring cup, pouring at a drop-per-hour to ensure she had the exact amount she needed, well… that pretty much denounced that assumption.

At least she could accredit some of her stiffness to Imai Lisa who currently had taken seat on a high stool across from where Sayo was, both elbows rooted on the small kitchen island of her home, head nestled in her hands as she stared at Sayo with an amused grin, the usual playful twinkle in her eyes. When given such undivided attention, wouldn’t you want to hide from the pressure of such a gaze? Thus, Sayo thought it would be best to avoid Lisa’s eyes altogether, and pour all her focus on the melted butter she was pouring into a bowl at an incredibly painful rate, hoping it would bore Lisa and make the girl do something besides burning Sayo with her gaze.

It didn’t work.

She shifted her gaze to Yukina, hopeful to find any semblance of help, but Yukina was just as much of a pain as Lisa was being, sprawled across the couch, flat on her belly, with her eyes pointed to Sayo in an unwavering stare.

She internally sighed as she returned to accomplishing her current task, moving on to another step, doing her best to ignore Lisa and Yukina in a casual manner while not seeming too cold, and give the wrong impression that she disliked them. Fun fact: She did not. If anything, she might like those two a little too much. So, now she just had to express just that. How she’d accomplish it? She didn’t know. She just hoped she could.

Mixing in the final needed ingredient which was a mix of chocolate chips and shards, Sayo smiled in satisfaction, sneaking a bite of one of the chocolate pieces, the action not escaping Roselia’s bassist as the string members’ eyes met, Lisa giving Sayo a shit-eating grin that just screamed, ‘gotya’.

Sayo simply rolled her eyes at that, thankful that Yukina was no longer paying attention to their wordless little exchanges; but she still felt that now familiar warmth in her cheeks as she turned away, choosing to search for an icecream scoop for her dough, instead of silently battling out of her embarrassment with Lisa. Upon finding the utensil, she began lining her balls of goodness along a baking sheet with parchment paper, making sure they had enough space between them to not touch as they baked.

She nodded in approval as she finished two trays worth, popping them in the cleared space in Lisa’s fridge to let them cool and develop their flavor.

“Nice work, Sayo~” The homeowner hummed, beckoning the said girl closer by opening her arms wide. Sayo was still getting used to it, but Roselia had very obviously increased their skinship acts as of late; hugs, cuddles, and handholds being thrown around far more than they used to.

And then there was the occasional kiss to the forehead or cheek, usually just between the other four, as Sayo still felt uncomfortable with that particular act. The few times she had received it from someone other than Hina was during a particularly fruitful tutoring session with Ako where the small girl was overjoyed as she shoved her recent report card in Sayo’s face, jumping up and down in excitement, before lunging over and planting a small kiss on her cheek.

It surely shocked them both, but they eventually got past it and continued on like normal. The other time was with Poppin Party’s Toyama Kasumi. That wasn’t as unexpected as most would think as the girl had probably hugged and kissed more than half of the school’s populace. It was only a matter of time before she got to Sayo.

And thus, these little gestures were something Sayo was (very, very) slowly getting used to. Sure, she would usually state if she did not want to…participate… in such activities; but more often than not, she did not necessarily oppose the idea, however it never ceased to be embarrassing for someone like her. It was a matter of tolerance? Resilience? Possibly with how Sayo struggled to keep a normal temperature each time.

Her parents had to issue her a stronger coolant with how often she’d been overheating. She was surprised they seemed prepared for this development, overhearing her father mutter a, “I expected the heat flushes with how we planned it out, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. Well, whatever!”. Sayo admitted the fact that this bodily reaction was an intentional installment made her feel annoyed.

Walking around from the opposite side of the island, Sayo reached Lisa, halting just in front of her, hesitant for a moment’s worth before allowing herself to indulge in Lisa’s motherly spoiling. Immediately, after stepping into the space of those arms, she was engulfed in a tender warmth, arms squeezing just the right pressure of tight, yet not overbearing.

Sayo leant down to rest her forehead on Lisa’s shoulder, that cinnamon powder scent calming her in a way she could not describe. A hand made its way into teal locks, twirling and playing with the ends of her hair before travelling upwards to massage her scalp. It made her sigh in relaxation.

If there were things she loved about her body system that she’d never admit, one of those things would be the nature of her senses. She wondered if this was what it actually felt like for real people. This heart-fluttering, yet calming sensation. Pleasant. Feelings… that made you want to smile and, entrust and rest your heart in the palm of someone you loved.

Sayo wondered how Lisa felt about all of this. Was she simply doing it out of habit as she coddled all the other members, and even some of her friends? Did it also make her feel this sense of… what Sayo detected in herself… so-called happiness? Did it please her when Sayo allowed her this opportunity to be so close to her? Or was Sayo the only one fretting about all of this? Worried whether or not she was stepping over lines, or hurting someone every other moment, or offending the people she cared about if she chose to do or not to do certain things that were supposedly of ‘normal’ nature.

Before Lisa could consume her every thought, a weight pressed against her back, slim arms wrapping themselves round about her waist just below the brunette’s other arm.

“M-Minato-san?!” Sayo let out a high-pitched squeak she didn’t know she was capable of producing.

There was no reply, she only felt what she would assume was Yukina nuzzling her head against Sayo’s back. If Lisa’s affectionate hugs weren’t enough, Sayo did not quite know how she would deal with this. Her tenseness must have been apparent as Lisa whispered to her,

“Relax Sayo. Take a break. It’s okay to not do anything sometimes.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply nodded, very conscious of the way she was sandwiched between her two bandmates, simply standing there. Doing no particular thing.

The lack of tasks unnerved Sayo the tiniest bit as she was used to always being productive no matter the hour- though maybe not as flustering as her hugging situation with Lisa and Yukina- but in the end, even she could not argue against the peace she felt when they all just stayed there, enjoying one another’s presence.

But it would have been a little more relaxing if Yukina and Lisa were not so busy killing her with their intense friendship and care. Sayo didn’t think her heart could take this much physical affection. She was surprised Yukina, of all people, was able to freely express it. Probably Lisa’s influence. And maybe Sayo was jealous of that ability to convey their thoughts and emotions with such liberty.

They remained that way, silent, otherwise unmoving with the exception of Lisa’s expert hands massaging the calm into Sayo’s body. Everything felt so surreal. She felt as though she wouldn’t mind drifting off in their embrace-

A jolt ran through her spine as she felt a ghost of a kiss pressed against her temple. And just as light, a touch of fingers gliding across her abdomen, causing her breath to hitch. ‘What were those?!’ Her eyes shot open, she didn’t know when they had shut, but now they were flicking about, the only thing she was able to see at the moment were brunette curls and smooth skin. She wanted to argue with herself whether or not what had just transpired was actually real, or just a figment of her imagination, but before she could do so a resounding ding of a kitchen timer cut through her brooding.

“I-I’ll… I shall… go. Get that… thing.” Sayo volunteered as a way to escape her mental tormentors. She awkwardly pulled away from the pair; Yukina more willing to allow her exit as she returned to her initial spot on the couch, but Lisa less so, the girl giving her a small pout before relenting, releasing the guitarist from her hold. Sayo would be lying if she said she didn’t suddenly miss the feeling of them and their gentleness wrapped around her.

But this was no time to think about that.

It was time to check on their cake in the oven!

Clumsily staggering around the marbled center of the kitchen, thoughts still swirling, Sayo stood in front of the hot oven, crouching down to check on the cake currently baking inside through the glass. It looked pretty ready. She guessed she could take it out. In her mind’s jumbled and rushed moments, she forgot to don her oven mitts, opening the stove with little care.

And at the moment she reached into the hot chamber, Roselia’s drummer suddenly came bursting through the front door with one of her chuuni war cries, surprising everyone including Sayo, causing one of her hands to hit the roof of the stove from the inside, and unconsciously holding it there for longer than she should have. It took a moment for her to register what had just occurred, but the sensation that she had come to know as pain- courtesy of her indicators- sunk in, her eyes opening wide in shock and she automatically voiced a yelp louder than she would have liked.

This immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room to her. With Sayo cradling a mitt-less hand close to her body, the fact that she had been checking on the cake, the smell that wafted in the air, and Ako’s prior yelling; Lisa pieced it together all too quickly.

“Sayo! Did you burn your hand?!”

With worry spreading amongst the group, Yukina got up from her place on the couch, walking towards the teal-haired girl who currently sported a look the mix of panic and fear.

“Ako! You shouldn’t have come in so roughly!” Rinko scolds, everyone momentarily thrown off by the smoothness of her speech and the absence of honorifics, probably due to her lack of shyness in her state of concern for Sayo. It kind of touched her heart, if she were completely honest.

But now wasn’t the time for that. She hadn’t meant to alert them, she needed to hide it before it was too late-

“Sayo, give me your hand.”

“I-I’m quite alright, Imai-san.” She stuttered out, retreating a step, back hitting the counter’s sink behind her. Her eyes widened a fraction more.

“No, No you’re not. I know it for a fact.” Lisa replied determinedly, reaching for the hand that Sayo stubbornly kept away.

“I really am-“

“Sayo, hurry, I know how much those burns can hurt and we need to run it under some cool water as fast as we can.”

“B-But-!”

It wasn’t as though Sayo feared getting wet. Her skin was waterproof after all. What wasn’t were some parts underneath it. The wires that functioned as her “veins” and nervous system. And even if her skin was made to withstand certain temperatures, it also needed to be as close to real skin as possible to not give herself away.

If the burn from the oven was enough to melt away those layers and expose part of her inner workings, she wouldn’t know how to explain it. Much more if she short-circuited in the event that there was indeed an opening and it was suddenly exposed to water.

She didn’t have the luxury of time to decide. Lisa caught her hand while she was weighing her options and quickly shoved it under running water.

It was cold. The pain temporarily waned, but most importantly for Sayo, the lack of forceful shut down helped her realize that she would be alright for now, seeing her hand was just a searing red with no openings whatsoever.

She sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t that bad” Lisa murmured, shutting the water and bringing Sayo’s hand up closer to inspect it. After a few moments of looking it over, she gave Yukina and an extremely down-hearted and apologetic Ako some instructions to retrieve the first aid kit down the hall, by the bathroom, while Rinko was tasked with doing the actual bandaging while Lisa took over the kitchen. Once Sayo was seated safely on the couch, as the cake was on the table, Lisa gave her head a single firm pat. “Alright, no more baking for you.”

“!!!” Sayo tried to protest. “But I want to help-“

“You’ve helped out enough.” Lisa cut her off firmly, arms crossed over her torso, a stern look in her eyes. “Let us take care of it.”

“But-“

“I’d prefer you sit on yours.” Lisa cleverly quipped, ending that particular conversation.

Sayo sighed in defeat, turning to watch Rinko as she expertly and neatly wrapped her hand in a bandage after having applied an ointment that would help with the pain and discomfort. Just as the girl looked up to check with Sayo if the job she did was alright, the teal-haired guitarist smiled at her. “Many thanks, as usual, Shirokane-san. You always help me out.”

Rinko mumbled out a long, strung-out, incomprehensible reply, face red as a tomato, but Sayo managed to make out a, ‘You’re welcome, Hikawa-san’, and that was enough assurance for her.

Shifting her gaze once more, she was met with Lisa’s head on, fiery gaze. And should Sayo dare say… jealous?

“How come I didn’t get any heart-felt thanks… I’m the one who-…” As the bassist continued to grumble in her corner of the kitchen, Sayo got up, strange bulk of confidence directing her actions as she stood in front of the sulking girl, looking down those few inches she had over Lisa.

“Eh? Sayo-“

Before she could say anything else, the guitarist had wrapped her arms around Lisa’s shoulders, the latter’s arms automatically finding purchase around taller girl’s waist.

“Thank you… Lisa.” She spoke in a near-whisper, though heard by everyone in the room due to how quiet they all were, mute from the surprise at Sayo’s assertiveness. Also the fact she called Lisa by her given name without honorifics.

That had certainly brought everyone’s thoughts to a screeching halt for a few seconds, trying to grasp the situation and its authenticity.

“I- eh- uh… y-yes? O-of course! Of course, Sayo-“ While Lisa was busy being a blubbering mess, Yukina had walked up to them and tugged on the hem of Sayo’s shirt. Arms still wrapped around Lisa, Sayo turned her head to the side to offer an inquisitive look.

“Minato-san?”

“…I must receive your hugs of gratitude as well.”

“…huh?”

“RinRin wants some too, Sayo-san!!! A-and… and if it’s okay, Ako would like a hug as well…” The youngest exclaimed.

Well, this cooking session certainly turning out to be what Sayo first expected it to be.

//-//-//-//-//

One might be wondering why Sayo, and Lisa- and supposedly all Roselia- were busy preparing cakes and cookies.

Well, when you place people with crazy ideas such as Kasumi in a room with an equally crazily enthusiastic Kokoro with the power to make those ideas a reality, you had… something quite amazing. The two had pouted up a storm when the band friend-group had to have separate Christmases with their respective families, and some with their own bands.

They had desired a ‘boppin’ party, as Hina put it (said sister of hers also being one of the perpetrators) after their joint holiday live, but the idea was immediately shot down. So, in order to appease these children, they all had agreed to free up the new year’s and have a party-slash-sleepover.

It was collectively agreed upon that they would not allow Kokoro to spoil them with everything, and they had divided the food tasks for the new year’s dinner. Roselia had been assigned the aforementioned cookies and a large strawberry cake. To make up for not getting to spend Christmas and eat the classic food together, as Kasumi claimed. In charge of desserts alongside them was Afterglow. Afterglow had made plans to do their prepping at Tsugumi’s café and they had chosen to make cupcakes, tarts, and some homemade icecream.

Popipa decided to pay a visit to Saaya’s bakery and have her dad prepare them some fresh pizza. Pasupare were assigned with drinks, and other little finger foods and snacks that were easier to acquire as they still had a few scheduled events up until the last minute. Raise A Suilen was chosen to buy the chicken. Chuchu wanted a turkey for unknown reasons, so they’d have that too. Pareo would most likely be the one behind all their prep, anyway.

Aside from food assignments, each band was tasked to come up with a party game; two to three members would then lead out the activity and the rest could participate.

These were the things they each had to prepare.

And prepare Roselia did.

“Ready to leave, everyone?” Yukina’s cool voice questioned, door held open for the others to walk through. Everyone was bundled up in their respective coats and scarves.

“Yes… Minato-san.”

“As one of the descendants of the five great dragon Lord-“

“Are you ready, Ako?”

“Yes. I’m born ready!” Ako giggled, running out the rest of the way, arms spread out in a T.

“Ako, be careful of slipping!” Lisa called from behind, and as if fate wanted to play a little trick, Ako slipped right then and there. Luckily, she hadn’t fallen over, and simply laughed, everyone else sighing in relief. “Geez, Ako…”

“I’m okay!”

Then… there was the last person. Sayo stood up from the step by the doorway after wearing her boots, looking around the area and her person to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Once she was satisfied that she was all ready to go, guitar slung over her shoulder, she grabbed the fairly large cake box in her good hand, and then a smaller box of cookies, similar to what Rinko was carrying, in her bandaged hand.

As she exited, Yukina turned to lock the door, double-checking it a few times to confirm that it was indeed closed properly.

And then everyone began to walk to the station to get to Circle for their party. They had rented out the basement so that they would all fit and have a sizeable amount of space to move around.

Just as they exited the gate to Lisa’s house in single file, Sayo was slightly startled by a cool hand prying the cake away from her. The bassist gave her a small smile before replacing Sayo’s now empty hand with her own, squeezing gently. Right after that, the box of Cookies was taken away by Yukina, and the songstress had slipped her smaller hand into the tealettes’s other hand, intertwining their fingers.

Sayo knew with certainty that her face was dyed hot red despite the cold of the evening that was beginning to settle.

“So that your hands stay warm.” Lisa winked.

“Right… of course.” Sayo craned her neck forward, stiffly, fixing her eyes forward on the road. “Thank you.”

…and maybe it was a good thing they held her hands since she did a tiny slip on the road just moments after.

//-//-//-//-//

“Why… did the groupings end up like this?” Sayo muttered.

“Sorry, Sayo.” Lisa clapped her hands in front of her. “Since Ako’s nose started bleeding with how high her tension was, Rinko decided to sit this one out and look after her so that Tomoe could participate. And Yukina and I are the game masters, so every team was going to have about seven members each. And since Roselia was mostly out of the game, we decided to randomly draw lots for the teams…”

“Yeeeeyyyy~ We’re the guitar team!!” Kasumi cheered excitedly, cutting Lisa’s explanation short. “Isn’t that cool, Sayo-senpai?”

“Y-yes, sure.”

“Waaaahhh~ Moca sure is impressed by this coincidence.” As usual, the slothful member of afterglow drawled, casually slipping her arm around Sayo’s waist. “Though I guess it’s not so bad at all if Sayo-san’s here.”

“Eh…” Sayo was starting to think everyone was getting too comfortable around her, skinship and first-name basis and all those little things. Though she supposed some of those factors were old news for some people, and new for others. She was still slightly conflicted about it, though. She had never really allowed people so close to her space, but… she knew her reality was changing by the day.

And she didn’t necessarily hate it.

“If this group has two guitarists from Poppin Party…” Tae hummed in contemplation. “Then we have two times the Popipa energy?! Woaaahhh~”

“That’s right, Tae-chan! Double PopiPower!”

“I’d prefer we only have the minimal amount of that power.” Sayo grumbled to herself.

“On the same team as Popipa, on the same team as Popipa, ON THE SAME TEAM AS POPIPA… POPIPA!!!”

“Rokka-chan!” Kasumi and Tae screamed with as much enthusiasm in response to Rokka’s warcry of fangirling.

“Does that make it three times the PopiPower?” Moca asked Sayo, pointing at the trio, raising their arms up and down in some kind of cult ritual.

“Please don’t ask me that…”

“Ahh~ To be graced by the presence of a Rose, and all the other beautiful flowers in the garden, how blessed I am by my little kittens. Hakanai~!!”

“Kaoru-samaaaa!!!”

“This one is giving me a headache as well.”

“Oh, come on Onee-chan~ Don’t be all ‘Mugyuuuu’.” Hina poked at her side. “Aren’t you feelin’ boppin’ now that we’re on the same team?” She grinned, hugging Sayo from that same side, opposite of Moca.

Sayo looked at her sister’s hopeful eyes, their pressure from the pureness strong. She was rendered unable to deny those shiny greens. Heaving a sigh, she replaced her apprehensive expression with a gentle smile, deciding to be honest with her thoughts about her sister more often outside of their home.

“I suppose… I am a bit happy to be playing on the same team as you, Hina.” She replied, placing a hand atop the shorter girl’s head and giving the short teal hair a gentle ruffle.

There was a collective pause amongst the friend group as they saw this rare tender moment between the twins, hearts clenching at its wholesomeness. Luckily, Sayo hadn’t noticed, thus it didn’t become an awkward issue for her and the topic moved on.

Hina squealed in delight, tightening her hug around Sayo, clearly over the moon. “Onee-chan, I love you! You’re the best!”

“I’m- okay…”

“Eeeehhhhhh~, no fair! I want a hug from Sayo-senpai too!”

Sayo sure was giving a lot of hugs today it seemed.

“Me too!” Tae followed after her leader, joining in the stuffy group hug with Roselia’s guitarist at its core.

“Rare chance!” Rokka realized, diving into the opportunity.

“I wouldn’t mind giving my little kittens some loving-“

“I’d rather you not. Please just… do it normally.”

“…yes.”

As this scene between the guitarists of the bands unfolded, everyone else was just left to watch, unsure of what to do as Sayo was squished in the middle of this human hug pile.

“Oi.”

Well at least Ran might do something.

“I’m a guitarist too. Why aren’t I with you all?”

Maybe Sayo’s assumptions could be wrong more times than she thought.

“That’s because Ran is always left out~” Moca teased with an impish grin.

“You little sh-“

“Language!!” Tomoe hit the top of Ran’s head, and the two both started their bickering, Himari panicking, unable to stop them, and Tsugumi ending up mediating.

“Umm guys… can we start the multi-legged race now?” Lisa sighed at everyone’s antics, feeling like they weren’t going to get to the game any time soon.

“Don’t worry, Lisa.” Yukina placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. Lisa felt happy at the comfort, wondering what advice the white-haired vocalist would give in this situation. “This is also rock.”

Of course. This was also Yukina. What was she expecting?

//-//-//-//-//

The girls were able to get to the games… eventually. Surprisingly enough, despite their differences and eccentricities, the guitarist team- minus Ran- was able to stage quite the victory. Not only did they have crazily unrivaled coordination during the leg race, in the next game where each person playing was blindfolded and separated from their teams to try to reassemble via making a sound specific to their team to find each other… well Kasumi was like some kind of beacon or control tower, loudly screeching out what she told everyone was the guitar sound.

Yeah, no.

They won anyway, so… it was fine?

You’d expect the teams to shuffle for team games, considering each band had to prepare a game and have different game masters. And Sayo had been waiting for that moment. But her group never changed. None of them were chosen to be in charge of the games, and well… maybe she shouldn’t be surprised at that. She should probably be more relieved, actually. Things might just get out of hand if entrusted to these children.

So she waited for games with fewer people, or individual player games.

…but apparently all of the bands had decided on group games that would work better with bigger groups. Therefore, Sayo was stuck all night with the ragtag gang brimming with ‘PopiPower’.

Well, everyone seemed happy, so it wasn’t so bad. Sayo would think this with a secret smile as she watched over all her friends.

And as they gathered on the roof of the small building to finish off their little party by watching the fireworks that signified the start of the new year, Sayo found herself blessed to be surrounded by these girls, quirks and all.

And as Tsugumi, along with Tomoe and Pasupare tried to prevent Hina from falling off the edge, Sayo couldn’t help but think,

‘They’re crazy, but thank God for this crazy bunch.’

//-//-//-//-//

After everyone had finished cleaning and locking up Circle’s basement, they were picked up by Kokoro’s long-ass limo, everyone fitting comfortably inside. Even Chuchu was impressed, and that spoke volumes.

Upon arriving at her mansion, the suits escorted everyone with their sleepover bags to a large room with beanbags, blankets, pillows, strewn about; and futons neatly lined side by side.

“I call center spot!” Hagumi declared, rushing and jumping into the soft cushion.

“Then I wanna be next to you!” Kokoro imitated the motions, landing beside her ginger-headed friend. “Happy~!”

“Kokoro, Hagumi, you need to get washed up and changed first.” Misaki chided, walking over to where they were to usher them to the baths.

“Aww, okay.” The pair beamed, before Kokoro turned to everyone. “Let’s all get in together!”

“Hoo boy, that’s gonna be a whole ‘nother mess.” Arisa complained, rallying up her pair of idiots, along with Saaya and Rimi. “I just wanna get to bed. My back is starting to kill me.”

“There you go with your granny talk again, Arisa~”

“Shut up, Kasumi! Whose fault do you think that is?!”

Following the first two bands out were Afterglow and RAS, more civil and calmer in their exit, and Sayo was grateful for that.

“Shall we?” Yukina invited.

Roselia nodded their heads, grabbing their things and heading out.

//-//-//-//-//

Bathing time was rather uneventful, and many of the more level-headed members of the grouped offered their prayers of sincere gratitude that they were able to catch a break and relax in the Tsurumaki’s onsen-level baths.

After that, everyone shuffled sleepily to the bedroom, energy suddenly sapped out from each one of them. Kasumi yawned a contagious one, spreading to O-Tae, then to Rimi, then to the three grand fools of HaroHapi, then to Himari, Ako, and eventually it made its way through all the girls.

… except Sayo.

She looked around, at first finding it adorable how everyone was similar in this aspect having read about it before that yawning was quite contagious.

Then she realized that… she wasn’t like everyone.

She must have stalled in her walk, as Chisato seemed to notice, turning back to her curiously. “Sayo-chan? Are you alright?” The actress asked in concern, separating from her group and approaching the frozen guitarist. “You look… distressed.”

This caught everyone else’s attention.

“Eh? Sayo-san is?” Ako came bounding back towards her, taking her hands carefully in her own. “Sayo-san are you oka- ah! Your hands!” She seemed to realize as she held them. “Is your hand okay now?”

“Did something happen to Hikawa-senpai’s hand?”

“Ah~” Lisa followed Ako soon after. “She accidentally touched the stove earlier and got a slight burn on her hand.”

“Eh? We didn’t notice.”

“Huh? But she had a bandage the whole ti-“ Lisa’s eyes narrowed, staring Sayo down accusingly. “Did you remove it at the party?”

With how she avoided the brunette’s gaze, everyone knew that hit the mark.

“Sayo!!!”

“It is not such a big deal, Imai-san. I felt fine, so I deemed it unnecessary to worry everyone else on such a joyous occasion.”

“Sayo, that’s not the point!”

“Hikawa… san.” Even Rinko frowned disapprovingly, and one by one, Sayo saw the sleepiness in everyone’s eyes replaced by concern.

She hated being the cause of it.

Bowing down in her perfect apology stance, she felt a churning in her stomach, along with her eyes stinging. They were body reactions she was not familiar with. Her mind said it was something like sadness and distress, but the data was mixing and meshing, and fighting. And once again she was confounded by the dreaded feelings. It made her all the more upset.

“Hikawa-senpai.” It was Misaki’s voice. Clear and breaking through the daunting darkness of her thoughts. “No one is mad at you, or blaming you. Okay?”

Sayo’s head shot up, those words clearing her mind as she met those concerned gazes once more, but there was less of that painful stir in her chest. A warmth was slowly overtaking the hurt, and she felt a flush of cooling run through her system.

“?!”

“Senpai?! Are you about to cry?!” Saaya’s question caused a bit of panic, everyone not knowing what to do when one of the steeliest personalities suddenly appeared to be on the brink of tears.

In a flash, before anyone else could react, bright colors filled Sayo’s vision, and she found herself in a situation she was now very accustomed to. A hug.

“When I feel sad, lonely, or when I’m crying, hugging always makes me feel better.” Hagumi murmured. “I want senpai to feel better too.” Sayo felt the movement of Kokoro’s head, assuming the girl was nodding her agreement.

It was warm. Everything, everywhere, it was just so warm. It wasn’t a scalding heat, it wasn’t the biting cold.

For the first time, she might have understood.

Sayo felt… loved.

Returning the hug towards the younger girls, Sayo felt a pleasant kind of prick in her heart as they beamed up at her.

“Ako-chan was right.”

“Mm-hmm! You really are a super comfy big sister!”

“No fair that Yukina-san and Lisa-san keep you all to themselves!” The two mentioned people tried to hide their blushes, but some of their sharper friends had picked up on it, curious at the reaction.

“Righttt?” Hina butted in. “Even though she’s supposed to be my Onee-chan!”

Sayo sputtered out a ‘what are you saying’, flustered all over again as the two released her, Rinko and Chisato taking their place, the former taking Sayo by her good wrist as they sat her down on a random bench in the mansion’s long halls, having acquired a kit from the suits. The rest were ushered into the room to get ready for bed and not overwhelm Sayo.

After treating her hand, the trio made their way into the room, finding everyone positioned and ready for bed, but still awake, attention at the door.

“Sayo.” Yukina called, patting a futon between her and Hina who was next to Lisa. The girl got the message, bowing her thanks to Rinko and Chisato who accepted with their usual grace.

As she made her way there, she noticed that she was at the center of all the laid-out beds, and this made her blush.

Kasumi seemed to pick up on it. “It’s the Sayo Protection Squad formation!” She chirped at the increasingly embarrassed guitarist.

“The… what-why?”

“Mou~ Enough questions!” Hina and Lisa pulled her down to bed, the younger Hikawa twin immediately locking the elder in place with her body.

“H-Hina… I can’t… I can’t move.”

“That’s the point dummy.”

Sayo relented eventually with a sigh, easing Hina’s body-lock into a cuddling position instead, something they were accustomed to at home, at least. Her younger sister was almost on top of her, but she hardly minded the weight.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed everyone moving their futons closer to hers, Lisa moving over to Hina’s as the twins were already practically sharing. As everyone wished their good nights and Happy New Year’s shutting off the lights, Sayo felt Yukina take her uninjured hand, cradling it close, while Lisa held the other, kissing over the bandage.

“Good night, Sayo. Happy New Year.”

Good night.

And a Happy New Year… everyone.

Thank you.

A/N: D’awww, Sayo is well loved. I’m glad. Please leave some kudos, comments, reblogs if you’re on tumblr! Thank you for the support for this story! See you next chapter, and Happy new year!

~Shintori Khazumi

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