from an oven

The Voicemail, Part 3

Title: The Voicemail, Part 3
Author:  @piecesofscully
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Pre-Revival
A/N: This is an unbeta’d quickie continuation of a series written with @kateyes224 .  Please read parts 1 and 2 listed below, so that you have an idea of what the hell is going on. 

The Voicemail written by me

The Voicemail, Part 2 written by @kateyes224


With each step she takes, shooting pain jolts through the center of her heels as she finally enters her dark apartment.  There’s a staleness to the silence now, a product of entering single-living territory again, a lifestyle of chosen loneliness she hasn’t experienced for many years.  Each minute of her thirty-six hour shift sits heavily in her lumbar region, aching with ferocity as she shrugs off her coat and slings it over the back of a rarely used dining room chair.

Her phone pings loudly, its alert slicing through the quiet to announce a missed call and a voicemail.  She glances at the notification, fully expecting to see another summoning from the hospital, and she grips the chair as her knees buckle.  

Mulder.

Her cheeks flush pink with brewing embarrassment as she thinks back to a few weeks earlier, snippets of a drunkenly induced voicemail she had left him run muddily through her mind.  She had been drinking that night with the sole intention of getting drunk, an impulsion she hadn’t conceded to since her rebellious teenage years, and played his voicemail thirteen times, having memorized each line around the seventh or eighth. Each time she hit ‘replay’ she was another vodka and splash of cranberry juice deeper, soaking in every venomous word he spoke.

She has no memory of thumbing through her contacts and finding his number, or pressing the ‘call’ button.  She doesn’t remember hearing it ring or being directed to voicemail.  The words that had erroneously poured from her liquored mouth, however, come back in hazy fragments.

 “I wanted to abort my son.  You know why?  Because you were gone.”

 “How do you find a way to be everything and nothing to me at the same time?”

 “I hate that I love you.  I hate myself for loving you.  You’re like a disease.”

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Exo Reacting to their angry S/O baking after an argument and the kitchen being full of sweets.

》 FAQ // Masterlist


Xiumin - He wouldn’t say anything but quietly sit near you and eat each cupcake you take out from the oven. He’d be more than pleased to see you not stopping making sweets, but after a few minutes his stomach wouldn’t say so.

“Jagi, what about you take a break?” 

Luhan - He’d be purely disgusted at the amount of sweets in your kitchen, but would also be amazed at such a capacity you have of making so many. He’d just continue doing his work and hope you stop being mad soon.

“Baobei, do we have anything that’s less sugar…y?”

Kris - He’d be so confused and taken aback and amazed at what you’ve done all at the same time. He’d probably circle round and stare in disbelief at the cupcakes you’ve planted all over the room.

“What have you done to the kitchen?”

Suho - He wouldn’t dare comment on what you’re doing knowing he’s the one at fault, and simply sit at the back of the kitchen and try some of the sweets you’ve made, concluding that you really should apply for a cooking show.

Originally posted by suho-be-mine

Lay - He’d be over the moon when he sees all the cookies you’ve baked. He could swear you’ve never made anything this quick, but would promise never to be so stubborn again.

“Baobei, I love these, but let’s not argue anymore?”

Baekhyun - He’d be so suspicious of every little action of yours and would actually be anxious on how to react and what to say, so he’d carefully approach you and compliment how your cupcakes look pretty, hoping you’d forget about the argument that was clearly his fault.

Originally posted by yehet-a-kookie

Chen - Chen would whine, and would whine loudly at the sight of all the cupcakes lying all over the kitchen. He’d try to eat as many as he can, but would probably give up after the third one and call your friends for a visit so you eat them all together, while he goes to the bathroom to recover.

Originally posted by kim-jongmin

Chanyeol - It’s safe to say he’d be speechless when he first encounters numerous cupcakes lying wherever there was space left in the kitchen, but would muster up enough courage to leave a muffled comment.

“Jagiya, I do like sweets but this is… a lot.”

Originally posted by cnovotny88

D.O - He’d probably forget you’ve had an argument the moment he sees everything you’ve made and approach you with a grin on his face, discreetly proposing a conciliation.

“How about we make some dinner first and then eat these while watching some nice film?”

Tao - He’d be disgusted just at the amount of sweets he finds in the kitchen when he comes to reconcile and would probably have to rethink whether he really wants a person capable of making so many cupcakes at once or not. 

“I think I’ve already gotten diabetes just from looking at all these sweets.”

Kai - He’d challenge himself to eat all of the sweets you’ve made if that’d make you forgive him after the argument you’ve had. If that doesn’t work, he’ll challenge you on an eating battle, but make sure he loses so you feel a bit better.

Originally posted by yixingsosweet

Sehun - To be honest, Sehun would probably wait for you to apologise after an argument, but when he sees what you’ve done to the kitchen, he’d try to strike up a conversation and call his hyungs to help him distribute the cupcakes to others, so you feel nice knowing people enjoyed your baking skills.

Originally posted by laychee

- Admin Lene

anonymous asked:

Omg! Can I please request a cute story with a gender neutral reader and Wilford goofily competing in baking. Bonus love if Google is there watching and critiquing!

“I’m gonna win!”

“No way!”

This had been going on for some time now. You and Wilford were baking cupcakes. This had been a regular occurrence since you’d outed yourself as a baker at the start of your relationship. The challenges has slowly become harder and harder in your baking competition. Today’s cupcakes had to be made with honey.

Google, Dark, and Host were the judges of the food. Host was narrating the whole thing like a radio commentator, Dark was watching you intently, scowling when one of you made a mistake. Google was analyzing the statistics of the outcome.

You pulled yours from the oven and began to decorate them properly. Wilford was already garnishing the plate. Time was almost up.

Yours were chocolate cupcakes with a honey cream icing and filling, covered in nonpareils. Wilford’s were vanilla with honey flavoring and chocolate icing and a honey garnish. Times up, go say your prays!

You gave Dark, Host, and Google one each and so did Will. You gave a glance to him.

Dark spoke, “Presentation wise, Wilford’s is better.” Dark only judged the presentation.

“Wilfords speed made the flavor sloppily put together, (y/n)’s pace was better for the outcome.” Google only judged statistics.

The Host was on flavor, which he’d eaten both of he cupcakes already. “I- I can’t choose which one I like more.”

You huffed.

you have no idea how incredibly reckless i would be if i didnt spend all my time stopping my best friend from being incredibly reckless

A few years ago, when I was living in the housing co-op and looking for a quick cookie recipe, I came across a blog post for something called “Norwegian Christmas butter squares.” I’d never found anything like it before: it created rich, buttery and chewy cookies, like a vastly superior version of the holiday sugar cookies I’d eaten growing up. About a year ago I went looking for the recipe again, and failed to find it. The blog had been taken down, and it sent me into momentary panic. 

Luckily, I remembered enough to find it on the Wayback Machine, and quickly copied it into a file that I’ve saved ever since. I probably make these cookies about once a month, and they last about five days around my voracious husband - they’re fantastic with a cup of bitter coffee or tea. I’m skeptical that there is something distinctively Norwegian about these cookies, but they do seem like the perfect thing to eat on a cold day. 

Norwegian Christmas Butter Squares

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 egg
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp vanilla
½ tsp salt
Turbinado/ Raw Sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Chill a 9x13″ baking pan in the freezer. Do not grease the pan.

Using a mixer, blend the butter, egg, sugar, and salt together until it is creamy.  Add the flour and vanilla and mix using your hands until the mixture holds together in large clumps. If it seems overly soft, add a little extra flour. 

Using your hands, press the dough out onto the chilled and ungreased baking sheet until it is even and ¼ inch thick.  Dust the top of the cookies evenly with raw sugar.

Bake at 400 degrees until the edges turn a golden brown, about 12-15 minutes. Remove from the oven. Let cool for about five minutes before cutting the cooked dough into squares. Remove the squares from the warm pan using a spatula.

Sensing the Gods

Zeus:
Touch: raindrops falling
Sight: flash of light through the rain
Scent: day after a rainstorm
Emotion: a slight startle when a large thunderbolt lights the sky
Hear: resounding crack of thunderbolts
Taste: the numbing surge of electricity when testing a battery

Hera:
Touch: the feeling of the wedding ring
Sight: the tears of love as a betrothed walks down the isle
Scent: the welcoming familiar smell of home
Emotion: love as grey as the hair time and passion has aged like wine
Hear: sound of child laughter
Taste: home cooked meal hot from the oven

Hades:
Touch: the cold pool of tears after a panic attack as sleep calms the suicidal
Sight: a funeral procession honouring the soul to the underworld’s gates
Scent: freshly dug earth in a cemetery
Emotion: peace after a loved one has passed
Hear: the quiet of a cemetery
Taste: salt of tears as a life is not taken

Hermes:
Touch: wind through a open car window
Sight: yellow lines and green lights ensuring a speedy travel
Scent: lingering smell of gas at a full station
Emotion: relief as a long awaited trip arrives
Hear: clinking of coins in a till
Taste: the dryness after a long walk along a gravel road

Demeter:
Touch: long dry grass crunching in the fall
Sight: auburn, reds and golds of Autumn
Scent: pumpkin spice and freshly mown grass
Emotion: solitude and a festival glow as December rolls around
Hear: a lawnmower’s growling as it works through tall grass
Taste: fresh fruits and the taste of nectar and milk

Aphrodite:
Touch: creamy texture of chocolate in your mouth
Sight: long distance partner smiling after being far away
Scent: lovers perfume/cologne
Emotion: heart pounding, misty eyed love as a smile comes from seeing a love in your arms
Hear: impassioned breaths of intimate moments
Taste: the passionate kisses between lovers forgetting time for a moment

Ares:
Touch: the long embrace of a soldier and child/love as they come home
Sight: half mast flag
Scent: soldier’s sweat after taking off his uniform from all day
Emotion: pride in your country
Hear: the resounding “Daddy!” of a coming home surprise
Taste: fresh food cooked after time away from your country

Hephaestus:
Touch: aching feet of a retail worker as they slump in a break room chair
Sight: the clock
Scent: burning embers of a fire, stale ash
Emotion: relief and excitement getting a job offer after searching relentlessly
Hear: clang of an anvil and sizzle of molten iron in a cooling bucket
Taste: cast iron cooked meals, fire cooked steak

Apollo:
Touch: the calluses on your fingertips after months of practice in guitar strings
Sight: beautiful works of art
Scent: lemonades on a day in summer
Emotion: shivering goosebumps as an emotion is struck hard with music
Hear: the sharp and clear melody of a freshly strung guitar
Taste: slight moment of metal and ink as a pen is drawn to your tongue

Artemis:
Touch: animal’s soft fur like water through your fingers
Sight: doe slowly walking out of a dense forest
Scent: a forest with rich leaves
Emotion: awe as a baby deer and mother wait patiently for your car to pass before crossing
Hear: twang of a arrow releasing from a bow string
Taste: cooling water after exploring in the woods

Athena:
Touch: stiff spine of a new book cracking open
Sight: a deserved verdict to a defendant
Scent: old pages/books
Emotion: peace inside a bookstore
Hear: hoot of a stirring owl in the evening
Taste: fingertips as they’re licked to turn a fresh page in a book

Persephone:
Touch: embrace of a love come home again
Sight: the first spring flower blooming
Scent: new morning dew in spring
Emotion: relief and glowing love as a partner smiles on a long awaited Skype call
Hear: buzz of bees in the summer
Taste: pomegranates

Poseidon:
Touch: tide bringing you in to shore again
Sight: crisp blue of the ocean at peace
Scent: the sour smell of a seafood section of a supermarket
Emotion: awe inspired by an image of the open sea
Hear: hooves thundering along a dirt path
Taste: salt of the sea as it slashes into a smile while swimming

Asclepius:
Touch: the padding comfort of a bandage on a healing wound
Sight: seeing a loved one feel well again after sickness
Scent: disinfectant
Emotion: the drowsiness of NyQuil as it lulls your symptoms away to sleep
Hear: fresh air after sickness has clogged your sinuses for weeks
Taste: the sweetness as a sigh of relief escapes your breath

Helios:
Touch: your cheeks stretching against your teeth as a yawn escaped into the sunrise
Sight: painted reds and oranges of a sunrise
Scent: morning dew in springtime at 6 am
Emotion: excitement for a day ahead, full of possibilities
Hear: the morning birds stirring in the early morning light
Taste: morning coffee next to an open-curtained window

Dionysus:
Touch: moments when you can feel comfortable with your body after dysphoria
Sight: the charcoal of a panther, eyes glowing in the night
Scent: draping aroma of a fertile vineyard
Emotion: Pride in being part of a LGBTQ community
Hear: chorus laughter of a raucous party
Taste: sweet tang of a well aged wine

Meet You Downstairs

Read on AO3

As Jack descends in the elevator to the basement, it strikes him that he never knew his condo building had a rental suite. Between his hockey commitments and hermit tendencies, there’s still a lot about his own home he doesn’t know despite living here for six years. It’s part of the reason he offered to help out around the building: to keep himself social during the summer season. His parents talked a lot about building a community of friends outside of work, and he knows his way around a toolbox so. Why not?

The basement is… really creepy, actually, reserved for the storage lockers and recycling bins. Even the parking garage is a level up and more inviting than this. There’s only one hallway so Jack follows it, certain he’s going the right way when he hears the voice through the wall.

“It’s fine, Mama. I know you wanted to help me pick out a place but this one is great. It’s in a nice neighbourhood, very secure… Yes, I got your pepper spray in the care package, but please, this is Providence, not New York City.”

Jack doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but he can’t help but notice how young this guy sounds. In a building where the average condo sells for over two million dollars, most of the neighbours he sees in the halls are retirees or working professionals. There aren’t many parties, which he appreciates.

He knocks on the cheap wooden door which rattles in the hinges. No wonder they’re renting this room out instead of selling, he thinks. There’s shuffling on the other side, and Jack hears the boy… man say “Goodness, I think the custodian is here already… of course I have pie who do you think I am? Call you back, love you.”

The door opens and there’s a lingering moment of silence as they each look at the person across from them. This guy looks to be a few years younger than Jack, a bit shorter, lean but with well-defined muscles he can see quite clearly thanks to him wearing the shortest shorts that could possibly be considered not-underwear. He’s staring. Oh boy, he’s staring and he needs to not be doing that so he drags his eyes up and they stall on the loose neckline of his tank top.  

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Brave Iced Rolls


Yields 12 rolls

The things you’ll need

Ingredients
  • 5 tablespoons bread flour
  • 1 package active dry yeast
  • ½ cup warm milk
  • 8 eggs
  • 3 cups + 3 tablespoons bread flour
  • ¼ cup sugar
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1 ½ cups butter, room temperature
  • Orange royal icing
  • Maraschino cherries
  • Egg wash
Equipment
  • Stand mixer
  • Whisk
  • Rubber spatula
  • Bench flour
  • Medium mixing bowl
  • Decorating bag fitted with a #12 tip

Let’s get started!

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
  2. Mix yeast, warm milk and 5 tablespoons of bread flour to create a paste and allow it to set for 10 minutes.
  3. Beat eggs and sugar.
  4. Add the remaining flour in 4 parts as you knead the dough on low. Add salt half way through.
  5. Add in soft butter chunks and knead dough for 2 minutes.
  6. Shape dough into a ball and allow it to set for 1 ½ to 2 hours in a warm place.
  7. Punch dough down and form it into small spheres. Allow them to proof for 30 minutes.
  8. Brush rolls with egg wash and bake for 22 minutes or until golden brown.
  9. Remove from oven and cool slightly before icing. Drizzle royal icing over each roll and top with half a maraschino cherry.
  10. TaDa! These scrumptious Brave Iced Rolls will be the subject of folklore for generations to come!

Oreo Cheesecake Cookies

Ingredients:

  • 4 ounces cream cheese, softened
  • 8 tablespoons salted butter, at room temperature
  • ¾ cup sugar
  • 1 cup + 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 10 Oreo cookies, broken into pieces

Instructions:

  • In the body of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat cream cheese and butter until light and fluffy, scraping down the sides as needed.
  • Add the sugar and beat well.
  • Add in flour, a small bit at a time, beating in on low speed, just until incorporated. Fold in oreos until evenly distributed.
  • Cover bowl with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least 45 minutes, and up to 2 hours. 30 minutes prior to baking, preheat oven to 350 degrees (F). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.
  • Using a cookie scoop, scoop out 2 tablespoon sized balls of dough, roll them into rounds, and place them on the cookie sheet.
  • Lightly press down on each cookie.
  • Place pan in the oven to bake for 10-11 minutes, or until *just golden at the edges. They will still be very soft when you remove them from the oven - that’s a good thing!
  • Cool on the baking sheet for 10 full minutes, then very carefully transfer to a cooling rack to cool completely. Enjoy :)

Jack knew something wasn’t right when he woke up. The covers were too hot on him and his head was pounding like he’d been drinking too much the night before. He shifted, trying to get his bearings, but at some point during the night, he must have pulled the covers over his head. He struggled free, enjoying the fresh air, before noticing a pair of paws on the bed. When he moved his arms, the paws moved too. What followed next was a confusing jumble of panic and incoherent screaming that came out as yowls.

He must have passed out again, because when he came to, he was still disoriented and nauseous. He confirmed that, no, it had not been a bad dream. Somehow, he’d grown four legs and a tail overnight.

After the initial panic, he jumped on his bedside table where his phone was, but he was uncoordinated, and ended up knocking the phone to the ground. He batted at it on the floor, but found that the battery had drained itself overnight when he’d forgotten to charge it.

Cursing and swearing to himself, he wandered his apartment on shaky legs. Thankfully, he hadn’t quite turned off the tap in the bathroom and the dripping of the faucet helped to parch his thirst as he tried to think of what try next. He needed to get help soon. Otherwise, he was going to end up starving to death in his own apartment.

In the living room, Jack found a window that he’d left open because it had been too hot last night. He squeezed out onto the fire escape and tried not to look down. It was strange in this body. Jack never had an issue with heights before, but now, a glance downward to the street had his head spinning with vertigo.

Left with no choice, Jack began to climb upward with the dim hope that someone had also left a window open.

He didn’t get too far before the enticing smell of spices and baked dough reminded him how hungry he was. He followed the smell until he staring into a kitchen where someone was bent over, pulling pies from an oven. Jack called out for the guy’s attention, and when he finally glanced in Jack’s direction, he scrambled to open the window.

“Hey, kitty. What are you doing so high up?” he asked. Jack stiffened when the guy picked him up, but he let himself get rescued from the precarious ledge. “Where did you come from?”

Help me! I’m not really a cat! Jack tried to say, but as expected, it came out in a series of pitched meows.

“Hmmm, okay. You hungry?” He set Jack on the floor to rummage around in his fridge. He set out a plate of leftover meatballs which Jack, losing his composure, attacked immediately.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, little–uh– guy?” He attempted to lift Jack’s tail to check, but Jack had hissed and swiped his claws. “Okay, never mind. We’re not going there,” he said backing off. Satisfied, Jack continued to eat, though with a suspicious eye on the guy who’d now dropped onto his stomach to watch Jack with a bright smile.

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You’re Kidding // Spencer Reid x Reader

Request Prompt:  Where the reader is pregnant with Reid’s baby but she doesn’t know how to tell him and then she accidentally lets it slip and it’s magical 😊

Requested by: Anonymous


You paced back and forth that morning, your bare feet finding comfort in the soft carpet underneath your toes. You kept looking at it, staring at it. It was there. It wasn’t going away. And neither were the previous other two that looked exactly like the one in your hand.

“You’re kidding, right?” you asked to no one in particular. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t even think, much less fully process what was happening at the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you finally breathed out as you stared at the pink plus sign. “This is happening.”

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Happiness Is Homemade

also on Ao3


MooMaw’s kitchen is always filled with light.

It’s pouring through the windows above the sink and filtering through the blue and white checked curtains that hang above it.

Eric sits on the counter, right in the middle of a sun beam, and swings his little feet against the cabinets below as he licks brownie batter off a wooden spoon.

MooMaw has the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she uses a spatula to scrape the last of the batter into the pan.

The cord stretches from the wall and Eric extends a sock covered foot out towards it and tries to touch it with his toes.

It sags before he can get to it as she steps forward and takes the spoon from him.

He only has a second to pout before she’s putting the spatula in the bowl and the bowl in his lap and ruffling his hair.

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Eric Bittle Is A Problem

(AO3 here)

Eric Bittle is becoming a problem. Not the problem Jack thought he was going to be in the beginning, no, he hasn’t had to worry about Bittle not pulling his weight on the team since pretty much the first time they played together. And certainly not now, when they work so well together on the ice. And off of it, too; it was surprising, but Jack considers Bittle to be one of his greatest friends, even if sometimes it feels like there’s maybe something shimmering around the edges of their relationship, something Jack doesn’t quite understand, it’s good with them, comfortable and fun in a way Jack isn’t used to.

But he’s becoming a problem, worse, a distraction . A menace, really.

The first time it’s a problem, Jack and Shitty had gotten back from a beer run, and Shitty was explaining some essential feminist theory to him as they made their way from the car to the Haus, “And that, my Canadian friend, is why intersectionality is so important. Like, you can’t really understand anything  unless you understand all of the realities and identities that inform a person’s existence, my man. I me-” as Jack turns to enter the kitchen, the rest of Shitty’s lesson is lost to a loud thrum in Jack’s ear that he distantly realizes is the rush of his own blood through his veins as he almost fumbles the case of beer and the bag of fancy nuts and chocolates that he thought Eric might appreciate- for his bakin g- and had purchased on a whim.

He manages to save the beer and the bag of goodies, but not to suppress the inelegant “ Buh -” that escapes his slackened mouth. Because Bitty is bent over at the waist, looking into the oven and making a satisfied little hum at the progress of whatever is baking in there, and he’s wearing those shorts, the short, short shorts that barely qualify as such in Jack’s opinion. And the way he’s bending is causing his muscles to tense and bulge, and his butt . Oh, Crisse , his butt is like a work of art and on display right in front of Jack, and he is in so. Much. trouble.

Jack manages to turn his random noise into a reasonable approximation of “B-Bittle,” and to reassemble his face into a generally neutral expression as Bitty stands and turns toward him and Shitty, who now stands next to Jack and thankfully doesn’t mention his near stumble. The late afternoon sun slanting through the window catches in Eric’s hair and he appears to glow for a moment, Jack manages not to choke on his sharply indrawn breath at the sight, because Eric Bittle is beautiful, and Jack is awed that he hadn’t noticed it until now.

“Oh, hi, y’all,” Bitty says brightly, a genuine smile lighting his face and stretching his lips distractingly. “You’re just in time, because this pie is almost done, so if you wanted some, you’ll just have to wait for a few while it settles,” Bitty checks the timer with a brief glance before looking back toward the doorway where Jack is still frozen, he quirks a perfectly shaped blond brow as if to ask what Jack’s problem is, but when he speaks again, he says “Did you two have fun at the store?”

Shitty moves into the kitchen, patting Jack’s shoulder on the way, “It smells swawesome in here, Bits. You’re the best!” Bitty grins and a slightly pink tinge paints his cheeks as he watches Shitty begin to put away his beer and the few other groceries they procured. He looks back at Jack, eyes darting briefly to the bag he is clenching before settling back on his face, a curious little smile on his pink lips. It spurs Jack into action, finally, and he moves into the kitchen holding the bag out like an awkward shield.

“These are for you,” he says, sounding too loud to his own ears, and maybe too loud in general, because Shitty looks over from where he’s stacking beer into the fridge with a strange look on his face that Jack will not analyze later. He continues, careful to regulate his volume this time, “Um, for your baking, I mean. I thought you’d like them,” he amends. Jack can feel his face heating, hopes Bitty doesn’t notice, that he writes it off as the heat from the oven, but when Bitty takes the bag and their fingers brush he feels the flush deepen. It gets worse still when Eric opens the bag and he makes an excited little sound.

“Oh, gosh, Jack, thank you! I know just what to make with these,” Bitty places his hand on Jack’s forearm and squeezes gently, repeating a thank you and grinning at him, his smile is open and fond and it warms Jack in a different way than the hot flush that he knows is painting his face and neck now.

“ Bienvenue ,” Jack says, voice a little too quiet and close now. Bitty smiles at his slip into Quebecois. It’s almost too easy to slip into the quiet of the moment, the little bubble of space around them, warmed by the sunlight through the window. They stay close, looking at each other for what feels like a long time, but realistically can’t be more than a second or two, then the sound of Shitty shutting the the refrigerator door and exclaiming “Shit, Bits, that pie smells fuckin’ delicious! Think it’s done yet,” effectively breaks the moment.

Bitty laughs and turns away from Jack, his fingers trail along Jack’s arm leaving a warm tingle lingering on his skin. The buzzer sounds as Bitty steps away fully, and Jack shakes himself, realizes he’s still holding the case of beer and places it on the counter. Bitty looks at him briefly as he takes the pie from the oven, and Jack feels the confusion rumbling through him play across his face, but Bitty thankfully looks away before he notices.

*****

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anonymous asked:

I’m the anon who requested the rainy day kisses and you totally delivered the goods. :D Thank you!! I hope it’s okay that I send in another request because I really enjoy your scenarios. ^^ For the chocobros: post-game happy AU where everyone has a family and the bro has a heart-to-heart with their teenaged kid (for this request: a daughter for Gladio & Iggy, son for Prompto & Noct) who asked the bro about the moment they knew their s/o was ‘the one’. Thanks!

NOCTIS

Noctis walked into the training arena, watching his son warping from one end of the room to the other. He stood by the doorway, watching as Ferox panted, dropping his dagger to the ground with his hands on his knees.

“Giving up already?” Noctis called, and Ferox rose to his full height. At thirteen, he was almost as tall as his dad, stretching his back and allowing it to crack loudly before loosening up his shoulders.

“Mom said I should take combat training more seriously.”

Noctis snorted. “Sounds like something she would say.”

Ferox tried warping a few more times under his father’s supervision, but eventually gave up, collapsing in a heap on the ground with his arms and legs splayed out like a drunken starfish.

“This is too hard,” Ferox groaned, pinching his eyes shut. “I don’t get why she’s being so strict with me about this warping thing.”

Noctis came to sit down beside his son, nudging him until he sat upright. “Your mother has been through a lot in her past. She’s lost a lot of people, had to make sacrifices to save others. Warping is something that only those tied to the King’s magic can do. She knows that mastering it will keep you safe in the long run, so trust her on that.”

Ferox leaned his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up with his fist. “Is that how you met?” he asked.

Noctis shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “Maybe.” He sighed, remembering the day. “We’d met on the road one day. Magitek troopers had invaded the outpost we were visiting, and me and the guys decided to try and fight them off. But we were tired, careless. It had been a really long day. But then your mother came swooped in and basically took them all down single-handedly.”

Ferox’s mouth gaped. “Woah.”

Noctis nodded. “Yep. I knew then and there, as the dust settled, that I was in love with her.” He patted his son’s knee. “Enough resting. Wanna try again?”

“I guess I should,” Ferox conceded, rising to his feet. “Do you think Mom’ll spar with me if I ask her?”

“Hey,” Noctis teased, grabbing a pair of wooden swords from a bin. “You too good to spar with your old man?”

“You just said Mom was a better fighter,” Ferox countered, and yelped as Noctis took a playful whack at his shin.


PROMPTO

Solis was lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. He had found one that was labelled with pictures from a little over twenty years ago. He blew his unruly blond hair, a feature he’d gotten from his father, out of his eyes as he opened the pages and scanned over the images.

The photos in the album were varied. Some were of scenery, some were taken during combat (Why, Dad. That’s definitely not a smart thing to do), and there were quite a few selfies that made Solis chuckle.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” His father’s voice made him jump as Prompto sauntered into the room and plopped down next to his son.

“Just looking at old photos,” Solis shrugged, flipping to another page. “Oh, hey, look…it’s Mom.”

Solis saw his dad’s face soften as he looked at the photo of the two of you. It was one that Prompto hadn’t taken himself—it was a candid shot Noctis had snapped of you at the Vesperpool by the water. It was right around the time you’d met, and you were standing too close together to be just friends. Prompto thought back to that moment, and chuckled to himself.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Solis mimicked, causing Prompto to burst into a fit of giggles. Even at sixteen, Solis was the spitting image of his father. Same hair colour, same lanky build. But he had your eyes and your smile, which were Prompto’s favourite features.

“Just thinking about the moment I knew I wanted to marry your mom.”

Solis scrunched up his nose. “Dad, I don’t know if I want to hear that story.”

“Guess who’s gonna hear it anyway?” Prompto tousled Solis’ hair, much to his chagrin.

“Dad! I’m not five anymore!” he whined, but settled into the couch to listen to his father’s story. “Go on.”

“Your mom suggested one morning that we go take photos of the catoblepas,” Prompto pointed to a different photo, one that illustrated the creature. “She insisted on getting up close and personal with them. She figured it’d be better for the picture. So I’m set up with my tripod and my camera about five or six feet away, and she’s holding these mushrooms to get them to come closer.”

Prompto mimed the set up with his hands, and Solis nodded along the way.

“I was ready to take the shot, and she was posing, looking all cute. But then the catoblepas got so close. I yelled to warn her, but when she turned, she reached out her hand and pet the damn thing. And it actually nuzzled into her palm. Can you believe it?” Prompto sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “A legendary creature, yielding to your mother. What a lady.”

Solis turned the page of the album and found the photo of you cozying up to the catoblepas. “One thing’s for sure,” he decided. “You’re both nuts.” He paused. “But I’m glad you found each other.”


GLADIO

Gladio knocked on Acacia’s door. Having a teenage daughter was not easy, and having a teenage daughter in full mood swings was enough to want to make Gladio pull his hair out. It reminded him of Iris when she was younger.

A muffled voice rang out. “Come in.”

Gladio opened the door to his raven-haired daughter lying face down on her bed, not even attempting to greet her father as he took a seat by her desk.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Acacia peeked an eye at him. “Nothing.”

Gladio folded his arms over his chest. “Didn’t sound like nothing according to Mom.”

Acacia sat up, apparently triggered by whatever Gladio had said, irritation clear as day on her features. “She’s just so over protective!” she huffed, hands balling into fists. “I just wanted to go away for the weekend, and she won’t let me because she said she doesn’t know who else is going.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a decent enough reason to say no to me.”

Acacia groaned. “Not you too.”

He smirked at her, shaking his head. “Do you know the moment I realized your mom was the one?”

She blinked slowly. “I don’t see how this is relevant to what’s happening right now.”

Gladio continued. “When I was on the road with the guys, I met her. She was definitely too good for me. Way too smart, way too pretty. And for some reason, she gave me the time of day. After what happened in Lestallum and we lost Jared, she offered to stay and take care of Iris and Talcott until we got back.”

Acacia looked at her father expectantly.

“I knew then, when she decided to put her whole life on hold to make sure that my family stayed safe, the last remaining family I had, that she was it. She cared so much about these people that she barely knew, took them in like they were her own and kept them safe while the world fell apart around them. And now she’s trying to do that for you. She lost a lot of people in the ten years of darkness, sweetheart. Try and understand that she’s being protective of you because she doesn’t want to lose you, too.”

Acacia let out a sigh, slumping her shoulders. “I guess I owe Mom and apology.”

“Guess you do.”

She nodded and rose to her feet, slowly making her way to the door.

“If you want to go camping,” Gladio offered. “I’d be more than happy to take you.”

“Thanks Dad, but no,” Acacia replied, stepping into the hallway. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. Yeah, he thought to himself. Just like Iris.


IGNIS

It wasn’t often that Ignis and his daughter got to spend a great deal of time together because of his duties at the palace and her school schedule, but he relished the moments they did get to share. They often cooked together, concocting new recipes side by side.

“How come Mom doesn’t cook?” Aurora asked, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Is it because she can’t?”

“She’s not extraordinarily proficient, but she gets by,” Ignis stated, and Aurora marvelled at how skilled her father was with a knife even though he was blind. “Actually, it was our first evening in together when she decided to cook for me that I realized how much I loved her.”

“Aw! Dad!” Aurora gushed. “Tell me! I love these stories.”

Ignis chuckled and kept at the chopping.

“She’d planned this whole dinner for the two of us. She knew that I enjoyed the culinary arts, and wanted to give it a go herself. I told her that it wasn’t necessary to go through all the effort, but she informed me that I’d cooked for her on multiple occasions, so it was only fair.”

Ignis smiled to himself at the memory.

“She ended up burning everything.”

Aurora couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad! Why are you smiling? That’s terrible!”

Ignis could still smell the ruined dinner, the smoke coming from the oven and the shrill sound of the fire alarm beeping in the kitchen. He remembered the sound of your laugh, the sound of you swatting a broom at the alarm to get it to shut off, as it was just out of reach.

“She took such care to ensure that everything was perfect, but in the end, the meal being ruined hadn’t phased her spirit,” Ignis continued. “She ended up pulling out two servings of Cup Noodles, and we ate them together by candlelight.”

Aurora leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “Dad, that’s so cute.”

“It was a special moment,” Ignis agreed. “I knew then that her resilience was something to be admired. I knew her before I was blind, as just a friend, and after I sustained my injury, she refused to leave my side. She’s always been more than I deserve, and she even gifted me with you.” Ignis reached out and wrapped an arm around Aurora’s shoulders, giving her a light squeeze.

“Love you, Dad,” she smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Ignis went to go stir a pot on the stove. “There is one thing you have in common with that night, come to think of it,” a mischievous lilt to his tone.

Aurora glanced over at Ignis. “Hm? What’s that?”

“Technically speaking, you were an accident as well.”

For a blind man, he was quite skilled at dodging flying spatulas.