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jeongjaebae · 3 years

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No mistletoe required

⇢ Jaehyun x reader ⇢ 9.3k | AO3 ⇢ a cute and funny holiday college AU (lowkey enemies to lovers)

To your utter surprise and dismay, there's your neighbour. The one directly across from you who keeps turning the decorating into a competition, who happens to be setting up the next batch of lights on their door at this very moment. And that kind of ruins the previously good mood you were in, so you open the door to give them a piece of your mind.

Why are you still here? Why are you still putting up decorations? Why are you turning this into a competition that I never asked to join—

"Why are you shirtless."

Or: There were three things you did not expect to encounter this holiday season. The first was to have someone else staying on campus over the winter break with you. The second, to have this person as your neighbour who tries to one-up you in Christmas decorations. The third, that this said neighbour would be hot.

Not going home for the holidays really wasn't the worst thing in the world. In fact, part of you was looking forward to doing whatever the heck you wanted without your roommates in the dorm, and not having any extended family members around to lie about having a good GPA or significant other to. Not that your GPA wasn't good, but the significant other category might need some work. Either way, you were excited to be able to finally bake Christmas cookies, decorate the entire apartment, and marathon your list of Christmas movies all while wearing your comfiest (ugliest) clothes and being sufficiently inebriated. There would be no one around to judge you while you screamed the lyrics to All I want for Christmas is You while dancing around in your pajamas. There would be no one around you for miles as even the RAs go home for the holidays.

It was like a dream come true.

"Today's going to be the day the rest of the door decorations go up," you announce to no one in particular. That's definitely another benefit of being all alone in this residence building—you could talk to yourself without sounding crazy. "They are long overdue so let's get this party started!"

There really weren't too many decorations left in your possession. You'd brought only a few things from home when you first moved in, like the cute ornament that looked exactly like your dog back home, a bow (for your hair but holiday decor takes priority right now), and a string of fairy lights that was originally for decorating your room but will now be taped onto the front door because you refuse to lose this unspoken decorations contest to the neighbour directly across from you.

This contest had begun a couple of weeks ago when you and your roommates had first put up a wreath on the door. It was already December at that point, so it wasn't exactly too early to start with the decorations, but with finals coming up none of the other students had decorated their doors. You'd thought the wreath that your roommate Rose brought was such a nice touch to remind everyone that the holidays were coming soon and that you'd all pull through with finals. Just a sign of hope and love and all the warm and coziness that you loved about Christmastime.

So when you opened the door later that afternoon and saw an identical wreath on your neighbour's door, you were stunned. You almost thought they stole it at first, but then seeing how yours was still there, that made you question some things. Maybe it was just a coincidence that they happened to have the same wreath, and they only put it up when they were reminded by seeing your wreath.

That was the first time, anyway.

A few days later, your roommates had brought out some pretty Christmas lights to wrap around the wreath. Again, it was just to lift the spirits of everyone during the dreadful time that is finals season. So you guys wrapped the lights carefully around the wreath, making sure that no one would trip on extension cords or anything like that. It ended up looking really nice and you were kind of proud of your festive door.

Until you saw your neighbour's door that also had an added string of Christmas lights.

Even worse, theirs did not simply wrap around the wreath like yours did but framed the entire door instead. It was as if they drew around the door frame with a highlighter because now all the attention would go straight to their door and leave yours completely drowned out.

The third time it happened was with the ornaments. You'd put your dog ornament on the wreath along with the other objects that your roommates had brought, some of which were pretty questionable (Rose's sparkly bottle cap, Jihyo's homemade felt gingerbread man, and Miyeon's earring?), but the overall vibe was still nice. It made the hallway feel more Christmassy than before and you knew that your copycat neighbour would not be able to mimic this.

But somehow they did.

You'd been trying to catch a glimpse of this lame neighbour through the peephole of your door all day, but the moment you stepped away for a much needed bathroom break, that's when their ornaments went up. You had come back from your under 30 seconds of a break and looked through the peephole and gawked at those twinkling ornaments—proper Christmas ornaments! The neighbour had hung them on the string of lights framing the door so that the lights bounced off and looked even brighter, shinier, warmer.

It also made you want to punch a wall.

That had been the week before finals. Your roommates were out of decorations at that point and you wanted to channel your anger into studying, so nothing had been done about the decorations. Unsurprisingly, your neighbours also did not add anything else to their door decor, which definitely squashed any chance of coincidence.

But now that everyone has gone home for the winter break, you were determined to put up the most extravagant decorations and have your neighbours come back to their defeat. The fairy lights in your room were ready for the world to see as you blasted a playlist of Christmas songs at decibels much higher than normally allowed. You had the tape in hand and were ready to go into battle. The door still had a ton of space below the wreath, so you started there and created a Christmas tree shape with the lights, taping them at every corner with the little battery holder acting as a base of the tree. Your bow hair accessory went at the very stop as a makeshift star, and you ripped out a sheet from your spiral lab notebook and cut off the ripped side to use as tinsel for this makeshift tree. It looked nice and cute and was definitely cooler than any traditional decorations.

"Okay, now that that's done I can finally get on with the Christmas cookies," you say to yourself.

The rest of the day was spent on baking some cute sugar cookies using Miyeon's cookie cutters of various non-holiday shapes, and some red and green food colouring which turned your icing into pink and green. So much for Christmas vibes. They were still cute though.

But just after you put the cookies in the oven, that's when you hear the creaking of a door and some shuffling sounds. You even turn down your music the slightest bit to hear what was going on because who could possibly still be here in this building? You had been certain that everyone would be going home and you hadn't heard a sound in days.

To your utter surprise and dismay, there's your neighbour. The one directly across from you who keeps turning the decorating into a competition, who is setting up the next batch of lights on their door at this very moment. You watch for a few seconds through the peephole as this mysterious competitor adjusts the lights on the door just slightly below the wreath, so all you could see was a hand.

And that kind of ruins the previously good mood you were in, so you open the door to give them a piece of your mind.

Why are you still here? Why are you still putting up decorations? Why are you turning this into a competition that I never asked to join—

"Why are you shirtless." You eye him up and down, the sight in front of you temporarily distracting you from the long speech you were planning on bombarding him with. "Um, that's so rude? You're basically giving everyone totally unsolicited naked pictures of you and your...abs, embedded into their minds forever."

That doesn't seem to startle him at all, as he simply stares back at you without missing a beat. "And," he looks at you up and down too, "your ugly Christmas sweater will be ingrained into my mind forever."

"Excuse you?" You weren't even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater though; this was just one of your regular cozy sweaters. "Well, is it hot in here or is it just you?" you spit out, the words dripping with sass.

Wait. What.

That came out totally wrong and was not at all how it sounded in your head.

He pauses for a second too but just breaks into a chuckle. "Why, thank you."

"I meant hot! In your apartment! You're the only one feeling the heat since you're clearly hot enough to be shirtless in the middle of winter!"

The corners of his lips raise the slightest bit along with an eyebrow, and that's when you knew he caught on to the last bit of what you said. "I'm hot enough to be shirtless?"

"You are not hot, okay? Like, opposite of hot. You're so freezing cold that I am going to leave before I get hypothermia" you lied through your teeth. Anyone who could say that he's not hot would be lying but that doesn't mean you'd ever admit it.

"So I'm too cool for you?"

"Bye, boy."

And with that you slam your door shut and collapse right against it.

That's the neighbour who's been secretly competing against your holiday decor? You hadn't pictured anyone in particular when you thought about the lame neighbour putting up decorations on their door, but this guy has got to be the farthest thing possible from anything in your realm of expectations. Even though you spent most of that interaction avoiding looking at him at all, you definitely saw enough. More like too much. But surely a guy who looks like every girl's quarterback frat boy crush with muscles like The Rock couldn't possibly be interested in being less than five feet away from Christmas decorations? And what was he still doing here anyways, away from all the friends and family back home?

On top of that, now you had to continue this dumb contest for the rest of the break since you refused to let someone like that win at this.

***

The next day consisted of waking up to a drained laptop battery, your list of Christmas movies marked as complete, and no memory of having watched any of them because you'd fallen asleep near the beginning of the movie marathon. Cookies were left half eaten on the plate with crumbs everywhere and your mug had stains from the dried remnants of hot chocolate. It takes you a minute to collect yourself and for a good while, you'd forgotten about the awkward encounter with shirtless neighbour.

Until you hear him singing.

It wasn't a song that you recognized but that didn't matter because you were dazed. Firstly, that boy could sure sing. Yesterday his talking voice hadn't left any impressions on you probably because he hadn't said much and you were too busy noticing the insults that came out of that mouth, but his singing voice today is a whole different story. It's fairly deep but somehow still soft, and its timbre fits perfectly with the smooth R&B song he's singing. Of course you'd never admit it, but this was such a turn on and you did not know how to handle this information.

And secondly, it turns out the walls were not as soundproof as you thought, which meant he probably heard everything from your high notes screaming session to you talking to yourself about beating that dumbass neighbour at this stupid decorating contest. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but on the other hand, if he'd heard you through the walls then maybe he would know better than to sing and risk having you hear. Well, unless he's turning that into a competition too which may be a good possibility given how competitive he seems.

After eating an abnormally late breakfast at 3pm, you went to take out the large pile of trash that was overflowing the garbage can. It was long overdue but had just become an object in the background as everyone went through finals in the past few weeks. In short, it stank and was ruining your holiday mood.

There was something else that was ruining your holiday mood though. The first thing you see when you open the door to go take out the garbage... was your shirtless neighbour. Only he wasn't shirtless this time; he had a tee on but was still exposing those toned arms as he was, to your disbelief, still putting up some more decorations on their door. It seems like he actually did not copy your fairy lights idea yesterday because today he's taping up Christmas gift wrapping paper on the door. As if his apartment was a gift to anyone! You were sure that was a fire hazard or something but there were no RAs around to even report this to.

He freezes when you open your door and makes the most awkward eye contact with you for a few seconds too long.

"Wow, nice to see you in a shirt today," you say with heavy sarcasm dripping off those words. "Feeling kind of cold?"

"Nice to see you too." He doesn't take the bait but entirely changes the subject, a neutral but inviting expression on his face. "Hey, are your roommates here too?" And the dimples. Ugh, you could not look away from the dimples.

"What?" You pause. "Why?"

"Oh it's nothing, but I just keep hearing you talking to someone."

That's when it was your turn to freeze like a deer in headlights.

The thin walls. The singing this morning. Was it all so that he could make fun of you talking to yourself?!

"Excuse you? Just so you know, I still have more decorations that are much better than your corny wallpaper here. You aren't a gift, boy."

He simply chuckles but then gives you such a blinding smile. You hadn't paid attention to his face yesterday but with the shirt on today, it was a little easier to observe this competitive neighbour. And his smile, wow. "I'll be looking forward to seeing those."

Then you close the door and completely forgot about taking out the trash. Not the way this happens each time because of how much he infuriates you! But now it was too late to go out there because you'd be forced to run into him again, so you decided to wait until after he was done his door.

***

The video call comes at a good time as you'd finished a couple of Christmas movies and your fancy homecooked dinner of mac and cheese. It's not unexpected as your best friend and roommate, Rose, probably has some updates for you after her wild family gatherings.

"Hey, girl! How's it going?" You pick up on the first ring. You were surprisingly glad for the human interaction after being alone for nearly a week, but you suspect that her main motive for calling was to sneak away from her family holiday party.

"Wow, look at you all dressed up in festive pajamas!" She squeals. "They're so cute!"

"Thanks girl! Gotta be festive around here." Maybe you'd be embarrassed if it were anyone else on that video call, especially if they were all dressed up like Rose today, but she's been your best friend since middle school and you've all seen each other in plenty of embarrassing outfits on the daily. "How's your holiday going?"

"It's been good but pretty tiring. You would not believe the amount of drama my cousin has been trying to start." Rose breaks out into a chuckle. "But how have you been surviving there all alone without us?"

"Christmas movie marathons and cookies all day! It's been so nice to finally get a break from school and people, you know? Oh, except there's this annoying neighbour still here who keeps trying to compete with me for best decorated door or something." You roll your eyes. "Can you believe it? Who would do such a thing?"

"Oh, he's still doing that?"

"Yeah, unfortunately? I keep running into him too, like every time I step out—wait. You know him?"

She stares at you for just a second too long before responding. "W-what do you mean?"

"You asked if he's still here, but I hadn't even mentioned this neighbour's gender or anything yet."

"Oh nah," she brushes it off, "I didn't mean anyone specific but... Y/N?"

"Yes?"

Her voice drops down to a whisper as she leans in towards the camera. "Are you talking about Jaehyun?"

"Jaehyun?"

"You know, the one who looks like he should be walking the runway even in sweats and a tee."

You don't say anything but shoot her a questioning look.

"Oh come on. Broad shoulders, toned arms, probably has abs. Dimples and a nice face to top it off?"

"His name is Jaehyun?" you say lamely. "Wow, I was expecting something cooler. Like even Jay or something."

"So he is who you were talking about? Isn't he so hot?"

"Well," you hesitate. You would never admit that you actually saw the abs that she was imagining. Or that he does indeed belong at a photoshoot way more than he does in front of his door hanging ornaments. "He's okay I guess?"

"Just okay?"

You nod slowly. "Why? Don't tell me you... like him or something."

"What? No, Y/N, of course not! He's in my bio tutorial and we happened to bump into each other while walking back to the dorm one day, but that's it. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay, sure?" you say, unconvinced.

"Seriously! He's interested in someone else, okay?"

"You guys are close enough for him to tell you that?"

"I—" Rose stops and turns around to look behind her. "Shoot, my cousin found me. Sorry Y/N, I gotta go! Bye—"

Then the call ends. Even though you definitely did not see her cousin in the background.

It was nice to talk to your best friend again, but that conversation leaves you feeling strange. You're confused as to why she would word vomit about how hot Jaehyun was, then immediately try to convince you that she didn't like him in that way. You've all had crushes throughout the years and told each other eagerly about them, so why was she adamantly denying this one? If this had been a conversation in person, you'd probably be able to tell whether she was telling the truth or not based on the appearance or absence of stars in her eyes, but it was difficult to tell since it was a low quality video call after all. Maybe you'll grill her about it once she gets back.

That wasn't all though. There was a feeling you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it wasn't positive. Maybe you were slightly bothered by the fact that Rose hadn't told you about this crush? Or maybe you were feeling left out because she somehow knew this rival neighbour really well while you were left in the dark, trying to figure out who kept copying your Christmas decorations. That's probably it—you were disappointed that Rose hadn't told you that she knew the culprit all along!

Then another thought hits you when you're least expecting it. He's single. It's something that never even crossed your mind since you just started assuming that hot people at this age were all off the market and you'd die all alone. Not that him being single has anything to do with you not dying alone, but maybe Rose has a chance now if she really liked him. Nah, she's too good for a cutthroat Christmas decorator like him.

After washing your stack of dirty dishes in the sink, you finally take out the trash but not before checking for enemies through the peephole. Luckily enough, shirtless neighbour, Jaehyun, was not there. Unfortunately enough, his door actually looked quite nice with the wrapping paper on it. He chose one on the simpler side so that it wouldn't clash with the ornaments but it matched with the lights on the doorframe so well that it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside for just a second until you remembered whose door this was.

And then you remembered the bluff you so confidently stated earlier today.

So now you find yourself staring at the storage box at the top shelf of your closet because of that bluff you'd made so confidently earlier. The reality was that you weren't sure if you even had anything useful in this storage box but had to check for the sake of that bluff. You refused to lose to him at decorating, but even more than that, you refused to admit that he was right. So up the step ladder you went, standing so carefully as to not tip over and fall while dragging down everything with you. The top shelf was still quite high despite your height boost and tiptoes were still needed to reach the big cardboard box. You hoped that it was at least light but don't quite remember what you'd packed in there, so you grabbed it by the two sides and began slowly shifting it towards the edge of the shelf.

The last thing you register was hearing your own voice. Screaming very loudly.

Adrenaline coursing, blood roaring, heart pounding. You don't feel the impact as you hit the carpeted floor, nor the step ladder and the storage box and all the other items in your closet tumbling after you. It becomes a big mess on the floor of your room, looking like the closet vomited out half its contents. Unfortunately, most of it was on top of you so the clothing did nothing to cushion your fall. You would probably be feeling the ache tomorrow but for now, there was something even worse to deal with.

"Are you okay?" a voice suddenly asks. You nearly scream again. "What's going on?"

"I—um." The state of shock was still affecting your mind, so you simply decided to point up for your not-shirtless neighbour to see. "Spider."

And there it was, all of its eight legs attached to your wall right beside the box you were getting. You could've touched it! Your hand totally could've brushed it! The thought of it makes you squeeze your eyes shut and suppress a shiver.

"Wow, a big one," he says as he looks around and finally decides on some random tissue you had lying on your desk. He kills it in one swift motion, making sure not to leave any of its... bodily remains on your wall. Then he goes to dispose of it as you sit there wondering if this was all a dream and that someone actually dealt with your spider problem and made it look so easy.

Despite the rivalry between the two of you, at that moment, there was nothing more attractive than a guy who could kill bugs for you. The abs were just a bonus.

"All gone; nothing to worry about now." Jaehyun reaches out a hand. "But are you okay? That sounded like quite the fall."

"Yeah, just fine." You gingerly take his hand as your head is still spinning and he pulls you out of the giant pile. You're thankful for his firm grip but what you notice instead is how soft and big his hand is.

He catches you when you stumble. "Careful," he puts his arm around you and guides you to the bed. "Wait, you're bleeding."

"What?"

"Stay right here. I'll go get a first aid kit."

You sigh as he leaves, suddenly feeling exhausted and actually glad to be taken care of for once. The thought of Christmas decorations leaves your mind and is replaced by the feeling of his arm around you, the faint smell of his body wash, how he reached the spider so easily without even stretching too far and certainly without using the step stool. And now he's getting a first aid kit for you? This definitely must be a dream.

"You didn't hit your head, right?"

Oh. Right. That was probably why your thoughts are all strange.

Jaehyun settles into the chair opposite you, alcohol wipe and cotton swab in hand. "This cut must've been from the corner of the box. Might sting a bit."

You hardly paid attention to anything he just said because suddenly there's the way he leans towards you so, so closely. The rest of the world starts to blur into the background as you feel his hand gently brush your skin, the worry and care in his eyes so genuine. Any feelings of self consciousness seem to melt away, the close distance between you not uncomfortable but rather perfect for slowly leaning in and—

"Ow!" you hear in your own voice again. He'd started cleaning the area on your left cheek with the alcohol wipe and it was the sting that seemed to jolt you from the strange thoughts.

Maybe you really did hit your head because what was all that?

"Sorry," he flashes a smile and has the audacity to laugh at your pain. "Need to make sure this won't get infected."

"You brought this first aid kit from your place?" you ask dully.

"Well, didn't know where you keep yours so..." He opens a tube of ointment and squeezes it carefully onto the cotton swab.

"Wait, how did you even get here in the first place? No, why did you come here?"

The smile on his face only grows. "Your door was unlocked, obviously. And I heard you scream followed by several loud thuds. Is that good enough?"

"Yeah, but why did you come here? I would've been just fine."

"I had to make sure that my lovely neighbour wasn't dead, alright? Otherwise who's going to continue our little holiday contest and lose?"

"Okay, first of all, you would lose. Second, you should've left me for dead," you grumble. "No one wants to participate in your stupid contest."

"Oh, come on. I thought you were enjoying it since you promised to show me all the decorations you still have." He opens a bandage and places it ever so gently on your cheek. "All done."

"I could've done that myself you know."

At that, he raises an eyebrow at you, grin still plastered on his face. "You really would've killed that spider that caused all of this?"

"How dare you—I might've? But you caused all of this actually. If it weren't for that dumb competition then why would I be up in my closet looking for that box of stuff?"

It was true enough. You wouldn't have looked for this box and you wouldn't have seen that spider. And he would absolutely not be here dealing with you battle scars.

"Oh." Surprisingly enough, that smile he had on disappears and he actually looks kind of guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Right."

"No, really. I feel bad that this happened because of something so silly. Let me make it up to you; no more competitions, no more decorations."

You almost heave a sigh in relief after hearing those words. It was like a dream come true as you've wanted nothing more than to have this decoration obligation off your back, though not if it was because he assumed you were going to lose.

So you're still suspicious.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?"

"Hmm. Let me treat you to a meal?"

You look him up and down. "I'd rather stay in."

"We can stay in and get takeout or delivery?"

"I'd rather eat alone."

"Oh come on." He has the audacity to pout at you now. "What's the point of spending the holidays alone?"

"Well, actually I've been having a lot of fun on my own."

"But doesn't it get... lonely?"

Maybe. You shake your head. "Not really."

He heaves a dramatic sigh. "How about just one night? And if you really hate it that much then I won't bother you again."

You sigh too, equally as dramatic. "Fine. But only because I'll get to beat you at whatever games you have planned."

"I'd love to see that." The grin is back on his face in full force, dimples and eyes both seeming to twinkle.

"But why do you even want to spend time with me?"

"Well, we're the only two people on campus and we happen to be neighbours?"

You stifle your laugh at his goofy expression. "Okay, fine. Please don't make it weird though."

"Weird how?"

"You know, those apocalyptic stories about the last two people on earth having to do you-know-what in order to survive and procreate and all that."

If he had a drink in his mouth, you're sure it'd be sputtering out by the way he half laughs and half chokes.

"Um, no. I have not heard of anything like that, but I think we can confirm that I'm not the one making it weird right now."

"Hey, you were the one rude enough to go walking around shirtless!"

"I'm just kidding." He smiles that dazzling dimpled smile again. "No competitions, no decorations, and no weirdness. Deal?"

You purse your lips. "Deal, but also, shirts are a must. And pants. Don't you dare pull anything funny."

"Deal. Oh, but before I forget," he pulls out his phone and unlocks it. "I hope this isn't considered part of the weirdness."

"Hmm." It's the 'add new contact' page on his phone that he hands you, of course. "I'll let you off the hook just this once."

You add your name and number as well as a description of 'your amazing neighbour who's better at decorating' before handing it back to him.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm—"

"Jaehyun."

"You remem—you know my name?" His eyes widen, an eyebrow raised.

You shrug. "Yeah, Rose gave me your name."

"Rose talked to you about me?" Eyes flicker briefly and the corners of lips settle into a sort of frown. "What else did she say?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because—why were you guys even talking about me?"

"She literally called to say that there is absolutely nothing going on between you guys." You roll your eyes at just remembering that strange conversation. "But in any case, I'll have you know that I think she's way too good for you."

"And I'll have you know that there's absolutely nothing going on between her and me," Jaehyun crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed. Yet at the same time he somehow looked relieved, body slack against the wall and not tense like a moment ago.

"Whatever you say," you shrug. "Oh, but she did mention there's someone you're interested in."

"What?!"

You definitely save his name in your phone as 'stupid shirtless decorating neighbour'.

***

The next few days consisted of some simple exchanges through text. The hangout was planned for Christmas Eve which was still a few days away, and as much as you didn't exactly want to be talking to him, you find your gaze wandering to your phone whenever it lights up with his name flashing across the screen.

Yes, it was just a hangout, not a date. You'd be staying in, acting casual, and there would be no weirdness involved as the two of you had agreed. Besides, you didn't even like him. At this point you could only bring yourself to admit that he was quite attractive and that your annoyance with him might've died just a little when you watched him save you from the spider and treat your wound. But now there was a new annoyance stemming from how rudely this guy was showing off all of his perfection (all six feet of it!) right in your face. Who does he think is he? You just know that you're lucky he isn't in any of your classes because this competition might've started way earlier with test grades or whatnot.

The point was that you couldn't wrap your head around why he would suddenly want to hang out with you. Based on his previous actions, it was to probably beat you in various video games or in something that should not even be a competition.

You decide to video call Rose to ask her for advice on how to better prepare you for this war.

"Did I interrupt?" is the first thing you say when Rose's face comes on the screen. She seems to be at the table in the middle of a meal, but it didn't look like a restaurant nor did you recognize it as anywhere in her house. "I can call back later."

"Nah, it's fine! How are things going on your side?"

Before you could answer, you see a guy walk into the frame. And recognize him immediately. You lower your voice, "Are you with our TA?"

"Um..." She only shrugs at you but you could see her flashing a smile at the guy who walks out of the frame. Who you're sure is the TA of your psychology class.

"Rose, are you on a date with our TA?" you whisper.

"Sorry, I'll be right back," she says to him, before the background changes and you could see her walking to a different room. "Okay, yes, you caught me."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"Not long at all! It's a long story though and I'll tell you in person first thing when I get back. But hey, didn't I tell you that there was nothing going on between me and Jaehyun?"

"That's the first thing you decide to bring up?"

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew." She rolls her eyes. "Anyways, how are things going over there?"

You sigh deeply, ready to launch into the drama that is your life. "I may or may not have a hangout with him in a couple of days."

"What?!" she shrieks, making you nearly throw your phone. Her loud voice also invokes an 'are you okay?' from your TA, which you still could not wrap your head around. "Wow, that was quick."

"Calm down, girl, it's just a hangout. And yes, it's way too quick because I don't even know him? Don't know why he would want to hang out but I'm guessing it's probably to turn everything in a competition."

"Just because of that thing with the door decor?" She laughs. "I think you're reading too much into it. Just enjoy the holidays with some company! Besides, how do you know he doesn't want this to be a date?"

"Well, we agreed that there would be nothing weird, and also, doesn't he like someone already? So it'll just be chill and casual."

"Where are you guys going for this?"

"Literally nowhere," you stifle a laugh at the thought, "just his place right across the hall."

She snorts, "Oh man, good luck to him cleaning that up."

"Why, is it like super messy or something?" You wouldn't be surprised as it's a boys' dorm after all.

"Y/N, it's a next level mess in there, and nothing sparks joy. Trust me, Marie Kondo would definitely lose her mind seeing that mess of a place."

"You've been over to his place?"

"For a bio project! You'd think he could've picked the library or something but no, I had to trip over multiple piles of clothes lying around." She rolls her eyes, a smile on her face. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking to you about all this. Don't worry! It'll be fun."

"I sure hope so?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well if you really want to keep up with this contest of yours, I have an idea. I mean, only if you want to get back at him for the decorating thing or whatever stunt he pulls. Just in case."

"Um. I'm listening."

She leans closer to the camera, looking ready to spill some big secret. "You guys should make it a formal event. Get all dolled up—don't give me that look; I know you've missed dressing up since before finals. Anyways, get your fancy dress and makeup on and see who can clean up better. I know you've got some skills, so this is something you'd definitely win."

"But we're not even going out," you whine, "it's literally going to be twenty feet away."

"It's just an excuse to dress up, Y/N. Besides, if it's at his place you won't be freezing in your dress."

"I don't know—I feel like this kind of violates our 'nothing weird' rule."

She shrugs, "Well, it's only a competition if you're winning." Then she flashes you one of her hundred-watt smiles. "Just ask him. Okay, I gotta go. Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah, sure."

***

Jaehyun agrees to it, to your surprise.

You're not sure what kind of reaction he had as it was all done through text, but he didn't ask anything and just went along with it.

When Christmas Eve finally comes around, you pick out the most glamorous dress in your closet with some pieces of jewelry to match with it. The silvery material shimmers and glitters, bouncing light in so many directions it seems to make you radiate a type of confidence you could only wish you had. It was something you've never even worn before because of how revealing it was, but you'd brought to college with you in case of special events. And well, even though this was definitely not a special event, it still turned out to be a good decision because maybe you'd be able to beat him at his own game of so rudely showing off.

But the moment you knock on his still gift-wrapped door is when you knew that these contests never go very well for you.

"What. Is. All. This." were the first words out of your mouth as you stood there in shock. In fear. In awe.

"Hmm? You said you wanted it to be a fancy event, so I just made it fancy...?"

"I—"

You had no words for this.

The lighting was dimmed with only the flickering candles on a tabletop and fairy lights swirling right above it creating a soft glow in the room. There was a beautiful red tablecloth with expensive looking plates ready to be served with whatever food was behind the delicious smell remaining in the air. A bottle of red wine and empty wine glasses. His apartment was spotless and not at all what you imagined it to look like, especially after Rose's spiel the other day about how messy it was. You don't doubt he spent a lot of time and effort to clean the place and set all this up, but this was way beyond anything your imagination could've thought of.

And lastly, there was him. If you'd just expected him to simply have a shirt on, he definitely went above and beyond the low expectations you had. Here he was standing in a white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants. Sleeves rolled up. Hair gelled up and slicked back. There was no ounce of imperfection in him or in this entire set up, and suddenly the outfit you picked out seems so insignificant. You could already taste the disappointment of losing a battle you'd had all intentions of winning.

Another thing that worried you was that this didn't look like the setting for a hangout. This looked like the type of place rich people eat at, where proposals happen, where anniversaries are celebrated, where you might even run into a celebrity. You definitely shouldn't have listened to Rose's advice because now it just seems like you played yourself.

"Do you not like it?"

"No, it's fine but Jaehyun, it's just—a little weird."

"A little weird? Yeah, I thought so too." He looks down, leaning against the wall as if unsure where he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do. Not that far from your own situation.

"I shouldn't have asked for this fancy hangout," you say under your breath, then quickly change the subject before things continued down this slippery slope of awkwardness. "Anyways, I don't see a tree in here. What happened, Mr. I-have-better-decorations-than-you?"

"No tree this year, but I do have a gingerbread kit?"

"And what, were you going to put that on your door too?" You roll your eyes at him. "Let's put it together it right now."

"It was definitely an option but you're the one who wanted the fancy date." He shrugs at you innocently.

"I just wanted a chance to dress up, okay? You can't possibly comment on this," you gesture at the dress, "the way you made fun of my sweaters."

There's no expression on his face as he gives you a glance over then quickly looks away. "You look...good."

"Thanks, I know." You do a hair flip in his face just for emphasis. "Okay, let's get to it! And would you turn some lights on already?"

It turns out, decorating a gingerbread house became a lot like decorating the door to your apartment. Unintentionally. It's not like you were highly competitive by nature, but there's something about his calm demeanour, his laidback gaze, and the way his lips curl at the corners that irks you because you wanted to break down those walls and see something real. Who does he think he is, looking and acting so perfect on your supposedly casual hangout?

Besides, it wasn't your idea to see whose side of the gingerbread house looks better.

"We must look so silly doing this," you comment. "Two people all dressed up in fancy clothes just to build a gingerbread house."

"It's totally part of today's itinerary of fancy activities. Just look at how fancy my side is?" He turns the tray so you could see it. "It's looking like a mansion over here."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him but you'd expected nothing less. "Then I guess it would suck if someone decided to ruin it."

Holding his gaze as if a challenge, you take the tube of pink icing in your hand and squeeze it generously all over his side of the gingerbread house. It was like a thick coat of fluffy pink clouds on the roof, in the yard, and all over the windows.

His jaw drops. "You. Did. Not."

"I think I did," you tease, the biggest smile you've worn in days on your lips from just getting a reaction out of him. "And I'll do this too." He definitely does not expect it when the huge blob of the pink icing on your finger gets dabbed onto his cheek.

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N." That's the last thing Jaehyun says before he starts chasing you down with a tube of blue icing in his hands.

Then it becomes a game of running around the apartment in circles, occasionally getting close enough to place another wad of icing on him but also for him to cover you with it. Until you decide to grab the icing sugar and use that as your next weapon.

The first pinch of it lands on his face and coats it like a foundation far too light. The image of him— stopped in his tracks, lips pursed and trying to blow the sugar off, blinking with disbelief—was enough to supply you a year of happiness so that's when you let your guard down and pause to wholeheartedly laugh at him. But that's also when the icing sugar came flying at you.

In the end, both of your fancy clothes and tidied hair ended up being coated with icing sugar, as well as the apartment he'd put so much effort into cleaning. And you didn't mind at all for it worked in giving you a glimpse of someone real behind the mask of perfection that he had been wearing in the few times you'd seen him so far. Someone who isn't just abs and a pretty face, nor just competitions and winning.

Basically, someone you could like.

Dinner passes by in a breeze with delicious foods and surprisingly easy conversation. Maybe it should've felt like an awkward first date with how little you knew about each other and how you've barely seen each other before this point, but it wasn't like that at all. It was hard to define because it wasn't quite like talking to an acquaintance, yet friendship would be too tight of a term to describe this relationship. He felt familiar, like an old friend that you knew you could share everything with despite knowing him no better then a stranger. But perhaps that was from the amount of wine you both drank; while it wasn't your drink of choice, it was definitely helpful in facilitating a lot of laughter as you kept breaking out in giggles and he definitely couldn't keep a straight face.

Time was slowing as the two of you collapsed on the couch afterwards, satisfied from a hearty meal. You found yourself suddenly dreading the inevitable end to your time here, though the warmth of the wine pushes that thought away.

"If we were outside, that would've totally been a snowball fight," you mention, looking out the window where fluffy snowflakes started to float through the air. It seemed like a Christmas miracle for it to be snowing so unexpectedly but maybe this year will give you a beautiful white Christmas.

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles so brightly even with the dim lighting of the room. "Then we could've also been making snow angels or a fort."

"Sorry for dirtying your floor though." You couldn't help but giggle. "It was so clean before all this."

"Don't worry, this isn't even as bad is it usually is," he confesses with a laugh.

"Yeah, Rose told me all about that."

"She did? Oh I'm so going to kill her."

The two of you burst out laughing at that, leaning over in a way that has your hand lightly brushing against his.

"It's not all terrible though. It almost looks like it snowed in here too," you say, admiring the sprinkles of icing sugar scattered all across the floor that looks nothing like actual snow, but it's nice to think of it that way. "Icing sugar everywhere."

Everything you look at seems to glow and sparkle with the heat of the wine still swirling through your body, heart racing, cheeks hot, the world spinning just slightly. And it's not like you were completely drunk, but instead it felt more like you were drunk on life with small, happy thoughts bubbling through your veins—how cozy this place was, how it's the holidays, how you actually enjoyed spending time with Jaehyun and how things turned out much better than you could've possibly imagined. It was nothing like the image of competitive gaming with the frat boys that Rose had put in your mind; this was the most romantic thing that anyone's ever done for you even if it wasn't intending to be more than a casual hangout.

Then there was how attractive Jaehyun looked as he's seated right beside you, hair dishevelled from earlier, a faint pink dusting his face, shirt unbuttoned just low enough to expose the top of his chest. Icing sugar at the corner of his lips where a faint smile rests.

When you look back up, his eyes meet yours and you have to urge to quickly look away, cheeks blazing from knowing you'd been caught staring a moment too long. But instead, a sudden stroke of courage compels you to hold his gaze, perhaps to see a reaction, perhaps as a question silently lingering in the room for much of the night.

"Mhm, it's beautiful," he says softly, still not moving his gaze from where it rests on you. "You still have some right here," he says softly, leaning in slightly as his hand brushes across your heated cheeks. Everything seems to happen in slow motion when he reaches your bottom lip, thumb grazing gently.

And suddenly it was like a repeat of what happened just days earlier. When he meets your eyes again this time, his dark pupils are twinkling in an answer to your question, luring you into their gravity until you're sinking, eyes closing, slowly getting lost in him.

Sparks fly at the slightest brush of his lips on yours and that's enough to abruptly drag you out of the moment you were swept into.

"Wait, Jaehyun—we agreed not to make things weird."

As much as you wanted to just kiss him right then and there, there was still some part of your mind that was telling you to stay away from this slippery slope. That things will be different after the rose-coloured lenses of alcohol and lust fade, that the weird that you both had tried so hard to avoid would end up happening and ending badly.

"Um, right. Sorry." He looks away, refusing to meet your eyes as his cheeks redden, unrelated from the wine. "Y/N... it's just that I've liked you for so long."

Out of all the things you thought he would say, this was nowhere near any of it. His words catch you totally off guard and seem to immediately sober you up.

"What? What do you mean?"

He sighs softly, a hand running through his hair and a hand on yours, tentatively.

"I'm not sure if you remember but we went to the same middle school." Jaehyun pauses, his eyes searching yours for a reaction but you don't dare breathe, waiting for him to continue. "I know this was so long ago and it shouldn't even matter anymore but middle school wasn't really a good time for me."

You take his hand in yours, encouraging him to go on.

"Kids could be so cruel back then, you know?" He smiles sadly. "But you were the only person who showed me such kindness. I could never forget that, Y/N."

"Middle school?"

He confirms with a small nod and that's when you think back. Middle school wasn't a good time for you either and it probably wasn't for anyone, but nothing in particular stood out in your mind. You had a small group of friends back then and got good grades. You were in the school's band and might've been teacher's pet one year. There wasn't exactly anyone bullying you, but there was one girl who was mean and made up rumours about you and some guy you didn't even know. That guy turned out to be really nice though, and the two of you ended up as good friends as a result of that rumour. But all that ended when his family moved right before high school and you never saw him or contacted him again.

"Sorry, I don't really recall. Were you in my class? There really weren't any boys in my life back then, like the only guy that I can recall is Hyunnie." You smile just thinking about the memories. "He was a good guy. Not sure what happened to him but I kind of liked him."

Jaehyun says nothing but you could see a hint of a smile that he was trying to hold back.

"What, you also know Hyunnie?"

He still remains silent, this time shrugging his shoulders the tiniest bit as he bites his lips.

"Then? Wait—" You gasp when it hits you. "Wait. We all called him Hyunnie but... Hyunnie. Jaehyun. That's—no," you shake your head, "there's no way. That's impossible."

"Y/N," he weaves his fingers with yours.

"You're joking." You stare at him to try to put the pieces together. The Hyunnie you remembered was a small, chubby boy with glasses so big they seem to cover his whole face while his bangs would cover the rest of it as if seeming to hide him from the world. Maybe initially you just wanted to support him as the rumours tied the two of your together, but after getting to know him better you realized he was very kind and genuine. And that's when your admiration for him started.

"Remember the secret code names we had? And the glow in the dark watch? And our mad minute competitions?"

"You're Hyunnie," you breathe, still shocked.

"Yeah," he whispers.

"But—why didn't you say anything at the time?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't feel the same," he looks away, not meeting your eyes. "I thought moving away would help me get rid of my feelings...but it didn't work."

"Why were you so sure about that? Why wouldn't I feel the same?"

"Is it not obvious? I—wasn't exactly someone you would be proud to be with. You were so sweet and popular and gorgeous. You had so many people wanting to be with you, and I—I was nothing.

"Don't say that! I was so happy that you were one of my closest friends." You pause. "Also, how could you be so wrong?" You roll your eyes at him, at all the silly things that once felt like the end of the world but are now so trivial when looking back.

"Was I wrong?"

"Yes! I liked you too, okay? I don't care what you look like. Jaehyun, you don't know how hard it was for me after you left without a trace."

"I'm sorry. I can only promise you that it will never happen again." Then he pouts. "Also, I worked so hard for these abs just to hear you say you don't care what I look like. Wow, I'm hurt."

That makes you burst out laughing. "They're definitely nice, but you are worth so much more than what you look like. And don't think that I wouldn't like you for who you are."

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in just a little closer.

"Okay."

"Never think that you're not good enough."

A hand cupping your cheek, tracing your jaw. Even closer.

"Okay."

"And don't ever leave me like that again."

His lips hesitate just for a moment.

"Okay."

Then they're crashing on yours, the electricity between you crackling so loud it blocks out the rest of the world as your mind is only filled with Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. His lips are sweet like the cotton candy you had back in seventh grade, lingering on your teeth at the amusement park, turning his tongue bright blue. His touch is gentle, ebbs and flows like the ocean during the eighth grade beach trip, water gently lapping at your feet, sand between your toes and between entangled fingers. His scent surrounds you like a warm hug on a cold day, like a hoodie too big to fit your shoulders while sitting outside of the school after the dance. All the memories flooding back make your mind spin; the things you've forgotten, the ones you've buried, and the fragments that he'd taken when he left, now brought back to their rightful place.

As the clock struck twelve, there were only whispered words of Merry Christmas in between lingering kisses, racing hearts, brushes of bare skin.

It wasn't weird like you were afraid tonight would go. What you once thought to be awkward and strange turned out to be so right, so perfect. Sure, it might hurt to know that there was all this lost time between you, but now you could make up for that by spending the rest of it getting to know each other again. Learning and relearning each other until there was only a seamless connection between the past and the present, an invisible red string tying the two of you together.

And maybe you did lose all these competitions to him but they never really mattered to you anyways especially when you gained back an old friend, a first love, a soulmate.

#jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct fluff #nct fic #nct x you #nct x reader #jaehyun au #guys i haven't written a fic in like 2-3 years #if no one reads it then it'll be 10k of practice at best LOL #me living out my holiday fantasies ok #idek how to tag or write A/N anymore #it's been tooooooo long #my fic

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vikinglanguage · 4 years

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Desserts in Danish

requested by anonymous

[Image description: A top-down view of a person sitting on a white bedsheet on the floor, surrounded by various desserts. Only a little bit of their legs and some of their left arm, as well as their right hand are visible. They are wearing white socks and holding a book in their left hand. The surrounding desserts are on 4 different plates: A souffle (I think?), some kind of pastry, a bagel, and a fourth dessert that is not visible, due to a fluffy white and brown cat that seems to currently be eating it. End image description]

General – generelt

dessert (fk.) – dessert

wienerbrød (itk.) – Danish pastry

kage (fk.) – cake

slik (uncountable, itk.) · godter (uncountable, pl.) – sweets/candy

is (fk.) – ice cream · ice

tærte (fk.) – pie

småkage (fk.) – cookie/biscuit

Pastries – wienerbrød

There are so many different types of pastry, but these are what I consider some of the most common ones.

spandauer (fk.) · bagerens dårlige øje (lit. “baker’s bad eye) – the pastry most commonly known as just “a Danish”

borgmesterstang (fk.) – a long, braided pastry, typically with sugar and nuts on top. Lit. “mayor pole”. This is also what I would consider a type of kringle (fk.), which is also a word for pretzel, which gets confusing quickly.

- kanelstang (fk.) – see above, but with cinnamon

- pistaciestang (fk.) – see above, but with pistaccio

(kanel)snegl (fk.) – cinnamon roll. Lit. “cinnamon snail”

dagmartærte (itk.) – a larger, round pastry. Kind of like several cinnamon rolls that have been made into one large pastry, but the dough is softer. Inside there’s normally a vanilla cream and cinnamon remonce. Lit. “Dagmar’s pie”

fastelavnsbolle (fk.) – is actually two different pastries!

1) a closed, semi-hard, spherical or square pastry with cream or jam inside and icing on top. This is the type of fastelavnsbolle you’d probably make at home.

2) looks like a bread roll cut in half, but made of soft, flaky pastry dough. Typically has some kind of vanilla cream or whipped cream inside, and maybe some jam. Might be drizzled with powdered sugar or the like. This is the type you’d be likely to find in a patisserie.

brunsviger (fk.) – I don’t even known how to describe this. It’s from Fyn, and it’s a large, square pastry with a quite dense dough. It’s has this cinnamon mass on top, and it looks absolutely disgusting, but it tastes nice.

Cakes – kager

lagkage (fk.) – layered cake

bradepandekage (fk.) – large, square, spongy cake, made in a baking tray with tall sides (en bradepande). Bradepangekager come in a myriad of types such as:

- sandkage: “sand cake”. A true classic. The most basic, sweet cake with a hint of vanilla.

- drømmekage: “dream cake”. Sandkage, but with a topping of coconut flour and brown sugar.

- chokoladekage: chocolate cake. It’s basically sandkage, but you add melted chocolate and cacao (and perhaps a bit of coffee) to the batter.

- den-du-ved-nok: “the-one-you-know”. The drømmekage edition of a chocolate cake. This time you definitely add coffee, and for the topping you use cacao, a bit of coffee, a bit of cinnamon, powdered sugar and coconut flour.

- brunsviger: I already explained this one, but it’s technically a bradepangekage as well.

banankage (fk.) – banana cake. A type of sandkage, but usually loaf shaped.

gulerodskage (fk.) – carrot cake. Yet another sandkage, but usually round.

muffin (fk.) – muffin

pandekage (fk.) – pancake, though Danish pancakes are more like sweet crêpes

æblekage (fk.) – apple cake, which is not technically a cake, but rather apple porridge topped with whipped cream and crushed macarons

jordbærkage (fk.) – strawberry cake. Same concept as apple cake. Note that this is NOT red porridge with cream (rødgrød med fløde)

hindbærsnitte (fk.) – imagine poptarts if they weren’t trash. It’s a small, rectangular cake (perfect for holding in one hand – en snitte) that consists of two layers of shortcrust, with a layer of raspberry jam in the middle. On top they have a thin layer of white icing and rainbow sprinkles.

kakaosnitte (fk.) – despite the name it doesn’t have much in common with hindbærsnitte. It is a snitte, but it just has a thin layer of shortcrust on the bottom. On top is a thick layer of filling that mainly consist of coconut flour, sugar, cacao and whipped egg whites.

Pies – tærter

Danish pies are pretty much the same as all other pies. They’re made from shortcrust and are usually filled with some kind of berry or fruit.

brombær (itk.) – blackcurrant

jordbær (itk.) – strawberry

æble (itk.) – apple

rabarber (fk.) – rhubarb

blåbær (itk.) – blueberry

You can attach all these to -tærte and make a compound word, as such: jordbærtærte.

Cookies – småkager

Literally all the Danish cookies I could come up with are almost exclusively eaten at Christmas, so really this is just Danish Christmas cookies. A bunch of these will be what you find in your grandma’s blue sewing tin.

brunkage (fk.) – lit. “brown cake”. A brown, circular or square cookie that contains a lot of different spices (potash, cinnamon, ginger, all spice, cloves etc.).

vaniljekrans (fk.) – lit. “vanilla wreath”. A fairly thick, circular, sand coloured cookie with a hole in the middle and a distinct pattern. It tastes very strongly of vanilla.

jødekage (fk.) – lit. “jew cake”. A basic circular, sandy cookie with a topping of sugar and cinnamon.

pebernød (fk.) – lit. “pepper nut”. Small, round “cookies” whose colour is usually somewhere in the range of sandy and dark sandy. They have a bit of bite to them, as they contain pepper and ginger

specie (fk.) – extremely basic, thin, circular cookie that usually tastes like vanilla.

klejne (fk.) – I am almost hesitant to classify this as a cookie, but whatever. It’s actually quite soft and is deep fried in a type of coconut oil. I don’t know how to explain what they taste like, because they just taste like klejner. They look like this.

#danish #dansk #language #langblr #danish language #desserts #dessert #cake #pie #cookie #biscuit #pastry #pastries #danish butter cookies #long post

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greekcookingmadeeasy · 3 years

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Greek Christmas Bread-Hristopswmo

🍞🙏

Greek Christmas Bread ‘Christ Bread’ – Hristopswmo BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy

Check my YouTube Video: HERE

Κοιτάξτε επίσης την συνταγή μου σε YouTube βίντεο, το λίνκ είναι: ΕΔΩ

youtube

Makes 12 - 16 pieces Hristopswmo is a very special Bread prepared for your Christmas Table. We traditionally eat it on Christmas Day where we break bread for the family. Usually in the older days, they used to decorate Hristopswmo with scenes from the Greek land, the farmer’s land, because it was like a blessing for the people working on the land. Of course, you can decorate it anyway you like. It is a wonderful bread, very aromatic filled with scents from cinnamon and anise. Suitable for fasting and vegans.

INGREDIENTS Ingredients for the dough: 375 gr / 13.2 oz / 3 cups Bread Flour, good quality 30 gr / 1 oz Fresh Yeast OR 10 gr / 0.35 oz / a bit more than 2 tsp. dry Yeast 125 ml/ 0.5 cup lukewarm Water 125 ml/ 0.5 cup fresh Orange Juice Zest from one Orange 4 gr / 0.14 oz / 1 tsp. Sugar 5 gr / 0.18 oz / about 1 tsp. Salt 30 ml / 2 tbsp. Olive Oil 15 ml / 1 tbsp. Honey 1-1.5 tsp. ground Anise ½ tsp. ground Cinnamon ¼ tsp. ground Cloves

Ingredients for the decoration: 125 gr / 4.4 oz / 1 cup All-purpose Flour 2.5 gr / 0.09 oz / about 1/2 tsp. Salt 75 ml / 0.3 cup lukewarm Water 1 whole Walnut (in its shell) Several whole Cloves A bit extra Flour to roll out the decorations For glazing (optional): 1 Egg Yolk + 1 tbsp. Water

METHOD: A. Make the dough for the Bread decorations first:Traditionally, its round shape and the rich decorations are what set Christ Bread apart from all other breads!

Note about the ingredients for decorating: I use all-purpose Flour and more salt, because I don’t want the decorations to rise and their shape to alter!

1. Place the flour, reserved for the decoration in a bowl. 2. Add the lukewarm water and salt. 3. With your (gloved) hand, knead them together for a couple of minutes until they turn into a firm dough.

4. Leave it aside for 15’ to rest. B. Make the Bread decorations: 5. After 15’, roll out the dough on a flat, dusted with flour surface.

6. Examples: 7. Make 2 long strips to shape a cross on the bread (traditional). 8. Shape leaves and flower decorations with your hands and and make their 'veins' with a sharp knife. Or any other decoration you like. 9. Reserve.

C. Prepare the dough for the Christ Bread: 10. Pour ¾ of the lukewarm water in a strong mixer bowl. 11. Add the sugar and yeast. 12. Whisk to mix them together. 13. Leave the mix for 15' to rest and for the yeast to activate.

14. Then, dissolve the honey in the rest of the lukewarm water. 15. Start the mixer using the hook adjustment. 16. Pour in the rest of the water. 17. Lower speed and gradually start adding half of the flour, spoon by spoon, beating to blend it in. 18. Now add the orange juice, all the spices and the orange zest in the dough. Continue beating. 19. Note: I have used 1.5 tsp. ground Anise because I like its aroma. If you prefer, you can use 1 tsp. for a subtler, lighter aroma and taste. 20. Pour in the 2 tbsp. Olive oil, before you continue adding the rest of the flour.

21. Don’t forget to add the salt in the dough. 22. After about 5', you will notice that the dough becomes one mass (lump) around the hook and has detached from the bowl. 23. Stop the mixer!

24. The dough should be elastic, soft but not sticky! 25. Bring a 26 cm / 10 in spring Form tin and detach its bottom. 26. Mark its perimeter on a parchment paper, so it is easier to cut it.

27. Wet the parchment paper and line the bottom of the tin. 28. Close the tin again and spray (or brush) the sides of the tin with oil. 29. Now spread the dough equally inside the tin.

30. Place the decorations on top, starting with the cross and the walnut in the middle, and add the rest anyway you like them! 31. To finish the decoration, place the whole cloves around.

32. Whisk the egg yolk with a bit of water and brush it on top of the pie to get a nice glaze during baking. 33. Place a clean kitchen towel on top of the tin with the bread dough. 34. Bread dough now needs time to rest, but also for the yeast to activate and to help the bread rise. 35. To do that, you could either place the covered dough near a warm source (like by a window near the sun or a radiator) or put it in the oven setting: “Dough Proving” like I did. 36. The dough needs 1h30'-2 hours to rise and double in size! 37. After about 2 hours, remove the kitchen towel from the dish. You will see that the bread has doubled in size.

D. Baking instructions: 38. Now bake the bread (in the same dish) in a preheated oven, both bottom and top heating elements on, @180℃ / 350℉ for about 40' or until it turns golden all around (depends on the oven). 39. TIP: If your oven is not preheated (like mine, because I used it to prove the dough!!), add 5'-10' extra in your baking time i.e. 45'-50'. 40. After about 50', check if bread is ready with a knife. Pierce it in the middle of the bread. It should come out clean. 41. When bread is ready, remove it from the oven. Place it on the kitchen top until it cools down. 42. I can't think of anything better than home baked bread! Its earthy, appetising smells fill my whole house.

43. The cinnamon, anise and orange juice & zest give this Bread an extra spicy and sweet taste and beautiful Christmassy scents which makes it stand apart from a normal bread!

E. Serving suggestions: On Christmas Day, you can either break bread and share at the family table. Or cut it with a good bread knife making first the cross sign on top ✝️!

I have baked many times Christ Bread through the years. I am showing you a couple others using different decorations.

Here, I have used the same dough to make the decorations. But because it has risen as well, the result is not as beautiful. But its taste is great!

You could also serve Christ Bread on your Christmas buffet! This is my amazing Christmas Buffet with all my homemade delicacies! To introduce: Savory dishes: Turkey wreath, Pihti-Jelly with meat, Shrimp Salad, Piroski, Savoury Choux Croquembouche and Christ Bread-Hristopswmo!

Sweet dishes: Melomakarona-Finikia with beer, Chocolate Kourabiedes, festive Tiramisu, Chocolate Squares-Xmas Trees and Christmas Cookies & chocolates!

Find all the Recipes of this Special Greek Christmas Buffet HERE

Find many more of my Christmas Recipes, by checking the Link HERE

F. Storing info: If you can't consume all the Christ bread in one day, cut it in smaller pieces and freeze them for max. 1 month. Take one out, leave it to reach to room temperature and eat it; it will be as fresh as the day you baked it!!

I am sure you will enjoy it and it will be a wonderful addition to your Christmas table. I wish you all a Merry Christmas with your family with lots of health and happiness, always 💖🌟🎁🎄🔔!!

Check my YouTube Video: HERE

Χριστόψωμο BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy Σερβίρει 12-16 άτομα Το Χριστόψωμο ε��ναι κάτι πολύ ξεχωριστό για το Χριστουγεννιάτικο τραπέζι σας. Παραδοσιακά φτιάχνεται την ημέρα των Χριστουγέννων, όπου κόβεται και μοιράζεται στην οικογένεια. Στα παλιά χρόνια συνήθιζαν να στολίζουν το Χριστόψωμο με εικόνες από την Ελληνική ύπαιθρο και τη ζωή του αγρότη, επειδή έτσι ευλογούσαν τους ανθρώπους που εργάζονταν στη γη. Φυσικά, μπορείτε να το διακοσμήσετε όπως εσείς θέλετε. Είναι ένα υπέροχο ψωμί, πολύ αρωματικό γεμάτο με υπέροχες γεύσεις από κανέλα και γλυκάνισο. Κατάλληλο για Νηστεία και Βίγκαν

ΥΛΙΚΑ Υλικά για τη ζύμη: 375 γρ / 13,2 oz / 3 φλ. Σκληρό Αλεύρι (κατάλληλο για ψωμί), καλής ποιότητας 30 γρ / 1 oz φρέσκια Μαγιά Ή 10 γρ / 0,35 oz / λίγο περισσότερο από 2 κ.γ. ξερή Μαγιά 125 ml / 0,5 φλ. χλιαρό Νερό 125 ml / 0,5 φλ. φρέσκος χυμός Πορτοκάλι Ξύσμα από ένα Πορτοκάλι 4 γρ / 0,14 oz / 1 κ.γ. Ζάχαρη 5 γρ / 0,18 oz / περίπου 1 κ.γ. Αλάτι 30 ml / 2 κ.σ. Ελαιόλαδο 15 ml / 1 κ.σ. Μέλι 1-1,5 κ.γ. Γλυκάνισο σκόνη ½ κ.γ. Κανέλα σκόνη ¼ κ.γ. Γαρύφαλλο σκόνη

Υλικά για τη διακόσμηση: 125 γρ / 4,4 oz / 1 φλ. Αλεύρι για όλες τις χρήσεις 2,5 γρ / 0,09 oz / περίπου 1/2 κ.γ. Αλάτι 75 ml / 0,3 φλ. χλιαρό Νερό 1 ολόκληρο Καρύδι (με το κέλυφος του) Διάφορα ολόκληρα Γαρύφαλλα Λίγο επιπλέον Αλεύρι για να φτιάξετε τις διακοσμήσεις Για το γυάλισμα (προαιρετικά): 1 κρόκος Αυγού + 1 κ.σ. Νερό

ΜΕΘΟΔΟΣ:

Α. Φτιάξτε τη ζύμη για τη διακόσμηση του Χριστόψωμου πρώτα:

Παραδοσιακά, το στρογγυλό του σχήμα και οι πλούσιες διακοσμήσεις είναι αυτό που κάνει το Χριστόψωμο να ξεχωρίζει από όλα τα άλλα ψωμιά.

Σημείωση σχετικά με τα υλικά της διακόσμησης: Χρησιμοποιώ Αλεύρι γ.ο.χ. και περισσότερο αλάτι, επειδή δεν θέλω η διακόσμηση του Χριστόψωμου να φουσκώσει και να αλλοιωθεί το σχήμα της!

1. Τοποθετήστε το αλεύρι, που προορίζεται για τη διακόσμηση, σε ένα μπολ.

2. Προσθέστε το χλιαρό νερό και το αλάτι.

3. Με το χέρι σας (με γάντι), ζυμώστε τα μαζί για 2 λεπτά, έως ότου μετατραπούν σε σφιχτή ζύμη.

4. Αφήστε τη να ξεκουραστεί για 15’.

Β. Φτιάξτε τη διακόσμηση του Χριστόψωμου:

5. Μετά από 15’, ανοίξτε τη ζύμη σε επίπεδη, αλευρωμένη επιφάνεια. 6. Παραδείγματα: 7. Φτιάξτε 2 μακριές λωρίδες για να σχηματίσετε το σταυρό πάνω στο ψωμί (παραδοσιακό).

8. Φτιάξτε με τα χέρια σας φύλλα και διακοσμήσεις λουλουδιών και φτιάξτε τις «γραμμούλες» τους με ένα κοφτερό μαχαίρι. Ή οποιαδήποτε άλλη διακόσμηση σας αρέσει. 9. Βάλτε τα στην άκρη.

Γ. Ετοιμάστε τη ζύμη του Χριστόψωμου: 10. Ρίξτε ¾ από το χλιαρό νερό στο μπολ ενός δυνατού μίξερ. 11. Προσθέστε τη ζάχαρη και τη μαγιά. 12. Ανακατέψτε τα καλά με το σύρμα. 13. Αφήστε το μείγμα για 15' να ξεκουραστεί και να ενεργοποιηθεί η μαγιά.

14. Στη συνέχεια, διαλύστε το μέλι στο υπόλοιπο χλιαρό νερό. 15. Ξεκινήστε το μίξερ χρησιμοποιώντας το γάντζο. 16. Ρίξτε στη ζύμη το υπόλοιπο νερό. 17. Ξεκινήστε σταδιακά να προσθέτετε το μισό αλεύρι, κουταλιά-κουταλιά, χτυπώντας με χαμηλή ταχύτητα για να το ενσωματώσετε. 18. Τώρα προσθέστε το χυμό πορτοκάλι, όλα τα μπαχαρικά και το ξύσμα πορτοκαλιού στη ζύμη. Συνεχίστε να χτυπάτε. 19. Σημείωση: Έχω χρησιμοποιήσει 1,5 κ.γ. γλυκάνισο γιατί μου αρέσει το άρωμά του. Αν προτιμάτε, μπορείτε να χρησιμοποιήσετε 1 κ.γ. για λεπτότερο, ελαφρύτερο άρωμα & γεύση. 20. Ρίξτε και τις 2 κ.σ. Ελαιόλαδο, προτού συνεχίσετε να προσθέτετε το υπόλοιπο αλεύρι.

21. Μην ξεχάσετε να προσθέσετε και το αλάτι στη ζύμη. 22. Μετά από περίπου 5', θα παρατηρήσετε ότι η ζύμη γίνεται μια μάζα γύρω από το γάντζο και έχει αποκολληθεί από τις πλευρές του μπολ. 23. Σταματήστε το μίξερ!

24. Η ζύμη πρέπει να είναι ελαστική, μαλακή αλλά να μη κολλάει! 25. Φέρτε ένα στρογγυλό ταψί με τσέρκι (αποσπώμενα τοιχώματα) των 26 cm / 10 in και αφαιρέστε τη βάση του. 26. Σημειώστε τη περίμετρο της πάνω σε αντικολλητικό χαρτί, για να είναι πιο εύκολο να το κόψετε.

27. Βρέξτε εν συνεχεία το αντικολλητικό χαρτί και απλώστε το στο κάτω μέρος του ταψιού. 28. Κλείστε ξανά το ταψί με το τσέρκι και λαδώστε τις πλευρές του. 29. Τώρα απλώστε τη ζύμη του Χριστόψωμου ομοιόμορφα μέσα στο ταψί.

30. Τοποθετήστε τις διακοσμήσεις από πάνω, ξεκινώντας με το σταυρό και το καρύδι στη μέση, και προσθέστε τα υπόλοιπα στολίδια που φτιάξατε, όπως σας αρέσει! 31. Για να ολοκληρώσετε τη διακόσμηση, τοποθετήστε τριγύρω τα ολόκληρα γαρίφαλα.

32. Χτυπήστε ελαφρά τον κρόκο του αυγού με λίγο νερό και απλώστε το με πινέλο πάνω από το Χριστόψωμο, για να χρυσίσει όμορφα κατά το ψήσιμο. 33. Τοποθετήστε μια καθαρή πετσέτα κουζίνας πάνω από το ταψί με τη ζύμη. 34. Η ζύμη χρειάζεται τώρα χρόνο για να ξεκουραστεί, αλλά και για να ενεργοποιηθεί η μαγιά ώστε να βοηθήσει το φούσκωμα του Χριστόψωμου. 35. Για να γίνει αυτό, θα μπορούσατε είτε να τοποθετήσετε την καλυμμένη ζύμη κοντά σε μια ζεστή πηγή (όπως δίπλα σε ένα παράθυρο κοντά στον ήλιο ή δίπλα στο καλοριφέρ) ή να την βάλετε στη ρύθμιση του φούρνου: «Φούσκωμα ζύμης» όπως έκανα εγώ. 36. Η ζύμη χρειάζεται 1h30'-2 ώρες για να φουσκώσει και να διπλασιαστεί σε μέγεθος! 37. Μετά από περίπου 2 ώρες, αφαιρέστε την πετσέτα κουζίνας από το ταψί. Θα δείτε ότι το ψωμί έχει διπλασιαστεί σε μέγεθος.

Δ. Οδηγίες ψησίματος: 38. Τώρα ψήστε το Χριστόψωμο (στο ίδιο ταψί) σε προθερμασμένο φούρνο, στις κάτω και πάνω αντιστάσεις, @ 180 ℃ / 350 ℉ για περίπου 40' ή έως ότου χρυσίσει παντού (εξαρτάται από το φούρνο). 39. ΣΥΜΒΟΥΛΗ: Εάν ο φούρνος σας δεν έχει προθερμανθεί (όπως ο δικός μου, γιατί το χρησιμοποίησα για να φουσκώσει η ζύμη!!), προσθέστε επιπλέον 5'-10' στον χρόνο ψησίματος, δηλαδή 45'-50'. 40. Μετά από περίπου 50', ελέγξτε αν το ψωμί είναι έτοιμο με ένα μαχαίρι. Τρυπήστε στη μέση του ψωμιού. Πρέπει το μαχαίρι να βγει καθαρό. 41. Αν το ψωμί είναι έτοιμο, βγάλτε το από το φούρνο. Τοποθετήστε το στο πάγκο της κουζίνας μέχρι να κρυώσει. 42. Δεν μπορώ να σκεφτώ τίποτα καλύτερο από το σπιτικό ψωμί! Οι γήινες, ορεκτικές μυρωδιές του γεμίζουν ολόκληρο το σπιτικό μου.

43. Η κανέλα, το γλυκάνισο και ο χυμός πορτοκάλι & το ξύσμα δίνουν σε αυτό το ψωμί μια επιπλέον πικάντικη αλλά και γλυκιά γεύση και Χριστουγεννιάτικα αρώματα που το κάνουν να ξεχωρίζει από το κανονικό ψωμί!

Ε. Προτάσεις σερβιρίσματος: Την ημέρα των Χριστουγέννων, μπορείτε είτε να κόψετε ψωμί με τα χέρια και να μοιράσετε το Χριστόψωμο στο οικογενειακό τραπέζι. Ή κόψτε το με ένα καλό μαχαίρι ψωμιού σταυρώνοντας το πρώτα ✝️!

Έχω ψήσει πολλές φορές Χριστόψωμο όλα αυτά τα χρόνια. Σας δείχνω μερικά ακόμα χρησιμοποιώντας διαφορετικές διακοσμήσεις.

Εδώ, έχω χρησιμοποιήσει την ίδια ζύμη του ψωμιού, για να κάνω τις διακοσμήσεις. Αλλά επειδή φούσκωσε και αυτή, το αποτέλεσμα δεν είναι τόσο όμορφο. Αλλά η γεύση του ψωμιού είναι υπέροχη!

Θα μπορούσατε επίσης να σερβίρετε Χριστόψωμο στον Χριστουγεννιάτικο μπουφέ σας! Αυτός είναι ο εκπληκτικός Χριστουγεννιάτικος μπουφές μου με όλες τις σπιτικές λιχουδιές μου: Για να σας τα παρουσιάσω: Αλμυρά πιάτα: Πίτα με Γαλοπούλα, Πηχτή με κρέας, Γαριδοσαλάτα, Πιροσκί, Αλμυρά Σουδάκια Croquembouche και το Χριστόψωμο!

Γλυκά Πιάτα: Φοινίκια με μπύρα, Κουραμπιέδες σοκολάτας, γιορταστικό Τιραμισού, Τετράγωνα Σοκολάτας Ραγισμένα-χριστουγεννιάτικα δέντρα και χριστουγεννιάτικα μπισκότα και σοκολάτες!

Βρείτε όλες τις συνταγές μου για τον Σπέσιαλ Χριστουγεννιάτικο Μπουφέ μου ΕΔΩ

Βρείτε πολλές άλλες Χριστουγεννιάτικες Συνταγές μου, κοιτάζοντας το Λίνκ ΕΔΩ

Ζ. Πληροφορίες Φύλαξης: Εάν δεν μπορείτε να καταναλώσετε όλο το Χριστόψωμο σε μια μέρα, κόψτε το σε μικρότερα κομμάτια και βάλτε το στη κατάψυξη για 1 μήνα μάξιμουμ. Βγάλτε ένα κομμάτι, αφήστε το να φτάσει σε θερμοκρασία δωματίου και φάτε το. Θα είναι τόσο φρέσκο όσο την ημέρα που το ψήσατε!!

Είμαι σίγουρη ότι θα απολαύσετε το Χριστόψωμο μου και θα είναι μια υπέροχη προσθήκη στο χριστουγεννιάτικο τραπέζι σας. Σας εύχομαι καλά Χριστούγεννα με την οικογένειά σας με πολύ υγεία και ευτυχία, πάντα 🎄💖🎁🌟🔔!

Κοιτάξτε επίσης την συνταγή μου σε YouTube βίντεο, το λίνκ είναι: ΕΔΩ

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years

Text

Christmas Traditions

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, drunk mention, food mention

Pairings: Platonic DLAMP

This is for the @secretsanders gift exchange, run by @spectralheartt!

@ninja-girl2846 was my Secret Sanders target! They requested Christmas time fluff with DLAMP, so I hope I delivered!

Deceit popped into the commons of the Mindscape, still wearing his snake onesie. The only one facing him was Virgil, who gave him a small smile.

Patton turned, squealing when he saw how adorable he looked. “Dee, you look so cute! I’m so glad you like the snake onesie. We were going to give it to you for Christmas, but we wanted you to match for movie night.”

Tears welled up in Deceit’s eyes. “I’ve never gotten a Christmas present before. I-I’ve never even celebrated it before.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Patton broke it as he gasped, throwing a hand over his mouth.

“I had forgotten that we had never celebrated with you.” Logan got up off the couch, heading over to where the other two stood. He pulled Deceit into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “I apologize.”

“We must fix this!” Roman shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Christmas Eve is tomorrow! Dee deserves to do everything we’d normally do.”

“Dude, there’s no way we can do everything.” Virgil uncrossed his legs and stretched before heading over to stand next to Logan. “Why don’t we each pick something? Then I don’t have to overwork myself getting anxious, and Dee gets to see why each of us likes Christmas.”

“That’s a great idea, Virge!” Patton said, practically vibrating with excitement.

Roman lightly bumped shoulders with Deceit as he joined the group. “How does that sound, Steak and Snake?”

“That sounds horrible, and your nickname was great.” Deceit laughed as offended noises left Roman’s mouth. “Which of you wants to go first?”

“Virgil suggested the idea, so he should go first.” Logan pointed out.

Virgil tugged on his hoodie strings. “Someone else can go if they want. I’d rather be last.”

“Okay! Why don’t I go first? While the cookies are in the oven, we can do something else.” As soon as Patton realized what he said, he giggled. “Whoops. Guess you know that my favorite thing to do is make cookies!”

Patton lead everyone into the kitchen, giving them all snowman aprons. As he tied his Santa apron, he started to give instructions. “Dee, you’re with me. Virge, can you preheat the oven? Roman, could you get out the ingredients? And Lo, can you measure them out? We’ll get bowls out.”

Deceit handed Patton some smaller bowls. “Why are you measuring it out first?”

“Yeah, Pat, when I bake I just measure as I go,” Roman added, handing the canister of flour to Logan.

“Actually, this practice is used in a lot of professional kitchens. It’s called mise en place, and it essentially means putting things in place.” Logan explained as he pushed the bowl with flour toward Patton. “It’s a practice that should be used more often in home kitchens. Well done, Patton.”

A light blush spread across Patton’s cheeks at the praise. “I saw some people do it on one of the cooking shows Thomas had watched. It looked like it made things easier, so I tried it, and it did!”

Once Logan had measured out the ingredients, the other three started to put things away. Logan constantly told them that it was easier to clean as you go. It was now an ingrained reaction, something Logan was proud of.

While they put things away, Patton was assisting Dee in the first step of the recipe.

“Okay, so we need to cream together the sugar and butter.” He said, unwrapping the butter and putting it in the mixing bowl. “Can you pour in the sugar for me?”

Deceit slowly poured the sugar in. He was careful to mimic what he’d also seen from Thomas’s cooking show binges.

Patton clapped his hands together. “That’s perfect, Dee. Now we’re going to let it mix until it’s blended together.”

They took their time, slowly moving through the steps. Once they’d finished rolling out the dough, the oven beeped.

“Alright, Dee, what shapes do you want?” Patton asked as Virgil dug out their cookie cutters. “We have snowmen, gingerbread men, snowflakes…”

Deceit looked over the cookie cutters for a moment before grabbing the snowman and the candy cane.

“Those are the best choices!” Roman said, giving a twirl. “Decorating the snowmen is an exercise in creativity!”

“You could say it’s a treat.” Patton joked, making the others groan.

They worked quickly, filling up four different cookie trays. Patton put the first one in the oven. When he turned around, he looked to the others. “While those are baking, we can move on to the next activity.”

“My turn!” Roman sang, grabbing Deceit by the shoulders and steering him into the living room. He situated Deceit on the couch before waving a hand. Three boxes appeared in a shower of rainbow glitter, which melted away instantly. “Decorating is my favorite part of Christmas!”

The five of them started to hang various decorations around the room. Roman had created a nutcracker for each of them, which Logan placed on the windowsill. Patton took care of putting their stockings above the back of the couch. Virgil hung the wreath on the door, making sure they could still get it open if necessary.

This left Roman and Deceit to hang ornaments on the tree. As the others finished their tasks, they joined in on the tree decorating. Every so often Patton had to head into the kitchen to switch out cookie trays, but by the time they were finished each of them was helping with the tree.

“Do you want to put the star on top?” Virgil asked as he held it up. “Unless you wanted to do it Pat, I-”

“Dee can do it! If he wants.”

Deceit shook his head and reached for the star. Once it was in his hands, he started climbing the ladder. Logan and Roman steadied it for him as he reached the top.

Patton cheered as soon as Deceit had plugged it in. He smiled as he came back down the ladder, which Roman vanished.

“Who’s next?”

The other sides couldn’t help but softly smile at the childlike excitement on Deceit’s face. Logan took a step forward. “I believe it’s my turn. I enjoy wrapping presents.”

“But, Lo, if we do that together then we’ll know what everyone got!” Patton protested as Virgil nodded behind him.

“No worries, I’ve already thought of that.” With a wave of his hand, Logan’s presents appeared on the table. Each of them was in a white box-only marked with the name of the recipient.

Logan grabbed Deceit’s hand and sat them down in front of two boxes. “Now, the easiest way to wrap is the gift bag. In my opinion, that’s the cowards way out.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Roman’s outburst, Logan started to teach Deceit how to wrap presents the correct way. After a few minutes, the others joined in. While Logan was clearly the best at wrapping, Deceit wasn’t too far behind him.

The worst of them was Patton, followed closely by Roman. The two of them didn’t mind. All that mattered was that they were having fun.

And sticking each other with various bows was definitely fun.

“Would you two-” Logan cut himself off with a heavy sigh. “We have finished with my portion of the evening. Virgil, I believe it’s your turn.”

Virgil nodded, waving Deceit over to the movie bin. “I like to watch Christmas movies. And before you ask, Nightmare Before Christmas totally counts.”

“I highly agree.” Deceit laughed as Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” While his tone may have been neutral, there was a small smile on Virgil’s face as he gestured to the Christmas tab of the bin. “Pick out a movie.”

Once Deceit had settled on White Christmas, they all piled onto the couch to watch it. Roman picked up the remote, ready to hit play-

-and the power went out.

Deceit looked around, confused. “How does that happen?”

“It means Thomas is drunk, likely on eggnog,” Logan explained as he summoned a flashlight. “Unfortunately, that means that the Mindscape will quickly be losing heat. Drinking alcohol might make someone feel warmer, but it actually has the opposite effect on the body.”

Virgil crossed his arms. “He’s not in much danger since he’s with his family. But why did he have to do it when it was my turn.”

“It’s okay, Virge, we can turn on a movie while we decorate cookies tomorrow.” At Patton’s suggestion, Virgil perked up.

“Is there anything we can’t do about this?” Deceit asked, clearly starting to panic. “I get warm extremely fast.”

“Don’t worry, Dee! We can cuddle!”

Patton wrapped his arms around Deceit, snuggling into him. Roman conjured a heavy blanket that could fit over all of them.

Small chatter filled the room as the body heat they shared started to warm them up. Roman and Logan were discussing the different colors of icing they’d need tomorrow while Patton and Virgil pointed out their favorite ornaments on the tree.

It took them nearly ten minutes before they realized Deceit hadn’t said a word.

“Dee?” Patton asked, squeezing him in a hug. “What was your favorite part of the day?”

“I think it’sssss thisssss.” Deceit hissed out, eyelids drooping. He leaned onto Patton’s shoulder, causing the moral side to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from squealing. “I love you guys.”

The others all exchanged fond looks.

“We’re glad you’re a part of the family.”

#ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #drunk mention #food mention #platonic dlamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my writing

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

Older Now, But Not Done Hoping (2/3)

Killian Jones has lost his festive spirit. It’s been forcibly removed by corporate America and private developers and how much alcohol the customers at his bar drink every night. Although, he supposes, that means he’s making a profit, but that also feels a little Scrooge-esque and he doesn’t have time for visits from ghosts.

Because he’s suddenly got a whole schedule in front of him, written out and planned by his roommate. To reclaim their mutual and collective festivity. Together. Oh, and he’s in love with her. At Christmas. And all the time, really.

This is going to be great.

Rating: Teen Word Count: 9K and change. Lots of adjectives. Lots of New York. AN: Back again with more words and more pining and more New York at Christmas. Like. A lot of New York at Christmas. You really need an appointment with Santa at Macy’s in Herald Square. This is still for @xellewoods and still because of @cssecretsanta2k18. Merry Christmas Eve, internet!

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll.

He’s never actually been to hell, but Killian assumes if he were to ever visit, it would be very similar to standing in the middle of Times Square on a Saturday in December.

Three different tourists have already run into him. One with a particularly aggressive shopping bag.

There is a person taking pictures of...something half an inch in front of him. They’re also standing on his left toe. But Emma is also holding on tightly to his right hand, so Killian figures that evens it out.

Or something.

It’s a few days after they first decided to do this – recapturing their festivity and Emma has been nothing if not a complete force for Christmas goodness. There have been cookies baking almost constantly in their less-than-impressive oven all week, a constant scent of sugar hanging in the air that Killian is certain is going to, eventually, do some serious damage to his cholesterol levels, She keeps bringing the cookies into the bar.

The regulars have started making requests. There were some questions about some kind of chocolate wreath-shaped thing that had filling and Emma had spent the next two hours crouched over her phone doing research.

There’s been Christmas music playing on loop whenever he wakes up as well, the quiet hum of Michael Buble’s voice seemingly working its way into Killian’s subconscious, and the list of tourist traps they’re getting ready to traipse to this afternoon has been hanging on the refrigerator door since Tuesday.

And, honestly, from the outside looking in, this is not a bad thing. This is a very nice, very festive thing. But from the inside looking out, it’s also kind of a worrisome thing because Killian cannot remember the last time Emma looked up a recipe for anything, let alone some random international dessert, and he’d spent those same two hours casting meaningful glances Will’s direction.

He’d been no help at all.

Figured.

So Killian is only a little concerned that this is all some great, big coping device and a distraction and he knows the last place to broach that particular subject is the middle of Times Square with a tourist resting most of his weight on his left foot, but there’s this knot in the pit of his stomach that hasn’t gone away in days and maybe won’t ever go away and he’s not entirely sure what he would have done if something had happened to her.

Or what will happen if Robert whatever-his-last-name-is calls his phone again. He’s called six times in the last four days. His assistant has called ten times more. Killian is very seriously considering throwing his phone up Broadway at some point this afternoon.

Maybe he’s just eaten too many cookies.

Emma is also questionably good at baking, it seems.

That figures too.

“Hey,” Emma says, tugging lightly on his hand. Neither one of them are wearing gloves. “You want to walk while you ponder whatever serious thoughts you’re pondering right now?” “Who says I’m pondering anything? Serious or otherwise?” “Your thought face.” Killian chokes on air that doesn’t smell like garbage anymore, but does, somehow, smell kind of smoky and there’s something coming up from the vent on the other side of the block. The tourist in front of him does not appreciate whatever undignified sound he makes, glancing over his shoulder at him with a look that could probably melt snow into disgusting sidewalk slush.

“Oh my God,” Killian mumbles, and this is not the bright, festive outlook he promised Emma he’d bring when she handed him a mug of coffee that morning. “You are not part of this conversation. Just keep walking. Right across the street.” The tourist blinks. And does not walk.

Killian can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Do you know how to get to Rockefeller Center? The one with the ice skating rink, I mean.”

Killian glances around to make sure there aren’t any hidden cameras. There aren’t. Just the normal cameras and traffic cameras and, God, there are a lot of very obvious cameras in the middle of Times Square.

He supposes that’s a good thing. Security. Or something. And no one getting shot. God.

The tourist waits expectantly for an answer, ignoring the small crowd that is forming behind them because they all refuse to walk across 44th Street in a timely fashion.

“Wait, what?” Killian asks, brain not quite ready for the specifics of the question. He’s half positive he’s being Punk’d. He’s not sure Punk’d is a thing anymore.

“The Center with the ice skating,” the tourist repeats. He shifts the bags in his hands, knocking one with an I Love NY emblem against Killian’s calf. Emma is honestly doing a God awful job of not laughing, although he’s fairly certain she’s not laughing at the tourist.

Killian’s definitely the jerk in this situation.

“You’re going the right way up,” she answers, twisting against Killian’s side to block another plastic bag strike. Or maybe just move closer to him. He really hopes for the second one. His phone has stopped buzzing. “Five more blocks to 49th, but then you’ve got to head back East. Over towards 5th Ave.” “Which way is East?” Killian resists the urge to shout slightly dated comedy routines in a tourist’s face. He assumes that was not on the list of how to reclaim their festivity 101. He also assumes that was not the name for the day.

Emma would have come up with a better name.

“That way,” Emma says, nodding towards her right. “Two blocks over towards 5th Ave.” “Ah, technically three, right?” Killian asks. He winces when he realizes he’s joined the conversation, squeezing Emma’s hand slightly in apology.

“Seven minus five is two. That is like...the most basic math in the world.” “I’m not disagreeing with that, love. I’m just saying,” he waves his free arm towards Broadway. “That’s also a street. So that should be three blocks.” “It’s, like, three feet of space.” “Still counts as a street.” Emma shakes her head. The tourist looks very confused. People are moving around them now. There are so many honking cars. “No, no, no,” she chants, and this probably shouldn’t be enjoyable. It’s definitely not on the list. “That’s ridiculous.” “The street is right there, Swan. Look that guy almost got run over walking across it.” “Happy Holidays.” “I’m just saying,” Killian continues, almost entirely forgetting about the tourist and his bags and whatever desire he possesses to pay a ridiculous amount of money to go ice skating. “That’s a street and that should be included in a block.” “Nope.” “A block is a measure of street to street.” “That makes no sense,” Emma argues. She’s waving her other hand now too, strands of hair hitting against her cheeks and chin when she keeps shaking her head. Killian resists the urge to run his fingers through it.

That, however, would require him to let go of her hand, so…

“A city block is not a set measurement,” Killian says. “Think about 14th Street in between 6th and 7th Ave. It’s the longest block in the world.” “That is only because you think it is. Manhattan is a grid system.” Killian opens his mouth to object to that, or possibly quote some more stand-up routines, but Emma’s eyes narrow and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing too loudly. “Most of Manhattan is a grid system,” Emma amends, and he can’t help but smile. “City blocks should be consistent. And the minimal amount of space between 7th Avenue and Broadway right here should not count as a block. It’s, like, seriously a few feet.” “And also not part of the grid.” “What?” “Not part of the grid,” Killian repeats, smile widening.

He’s not sure when this started, exactly, the almost too obvious attempts to poke each other’s even more obvious buttons, but it may honestly have started the first time they met and argued about something he also can’t remember. It might have been hockey.

It’s an unspoken kind of game now, an easy rhythm to it that always seems to time up with his pulse and the slightly erratic way Emma makes his heart beat. It’s fun.

They may be scandalizing the tourist.

Emma scowls, trying to tug her hand out of his grip so she can cross her arms over her chest. He doesn’t let her move. “How do you figure?” “Broadway doesn’t run north and south,” Killian answers. “It goes sort of diagonal across the city. You can’t have diagonal on a grid.” His smile turns into a grin – wide and winning as soon as Emma huffs out a breath of frustration through her teeth. She twists her lips, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing and it probably isn’t supposed to be attractive, but Killian is mostly attracted to every single thing she does, so he’s not entirely surprised by it.

“Did I win?” Killian asks. “Three blocks?” “That is stupid.” “That’s not an answer, love.” “Literally the most stupid thing I have ever heard. Broadway shouldn’t count at all, then! In anything! It shouldn’t even be a street.” “It’s definitely a street. Look there are cars on it right now. I think this means I won and you just don’t want to admit it. What do I win?” “Shut up.” “Still not an answer,” he mutters, moving into her space with practiced ease and clicking his tongue in reproach when she swats at his chest. “Now, Swan, that’s hardly festive.” Emma sticks her tongue out.

The game, it seems, usually dissolves into something that some may consider flirting.

Killian doesn’t. Of course. Because he’s the world’s biggest idiot.

“You get nothing,” Emma says. “You lose. Good--”

“--Day, sir,” he finishes, the muscles in his face starting to ache from standing in the cold with a very confused tourist starting at them and smiling at Emma. “Was it on TV? Is that why that just happened?” “We should be monetizing your mind reading powers. I mean we’re in Times Square. Only seems right, huh?”

Killian chuckles, pressing a kiss to her hair and that’s been happening more in the last week, but he’s managed to rationalize it on the lingering hint of gunshots mixing in the air with the sugar and over-confident real estate developers.

Emma’s never actually told him to stop either.

“Is Willy Wonka a Christmas movie?” Killian asks, Emma shrugging in response. “That’s like...aren’t the kids supposed to represent the seven deadly sins or something?” “Were there seven kids?” “No, right? Charlie and Violet and Mike TV and the chocolate kid.” “The chocolate kid? Augustus?” Emma shrugs again. “I’m missing someone aren’t I? There’s one more kid.” “I’m not the one who watched it on TV recently enough to quote it,” Killian points out. “That can’t possibly be considered a Christmas movie. That’s not festive at all, it’s--”

“--You’re missing Veruca,” the tourist interrupts, and God Killian’s totally forgotten about the tourist. “Also agreed on the festiveness. I have no idea what the hell you were talking about with the blocks, but thanks for the directions. You both are incredibly cute.” He nods once, a tight smile and then he’s gone, a flash of bags and one side of his scarf hanging over his back.

Neither Emma nor Killian move.

A different tourist runs into them.

“I can’t believe we forgot Veruca,” Emma mumbles, barely audible over the rush of another push of pedestrians. “She’s the only one who gets a song.” “Not a Christmas song, though.” “That’s a very good point.” “I’m here to make those.” She hums, twisting again and, somehow, finding a few inches of a space she hadn’t been previously occupying which is why Killian can feel, with almost startling clarity, how quickly her body tenses when a car honks.

Emma’s breath catches, shoulders going tight and the arm that had been hanging at her side flies around Killian’s middle. She squeezes tightly, burying her head against his jacket and he’s only a little worried she’s going to cut her cheek on his zipper.

She doesn’t shake, still, but Killian can’t actually feel her inhale either and he’s not entirely sure what to do.

He swallows down the rather large wad of whatever that’s returned to the back of his throat, shifting his weight so he can work his own arm around her, tracing mindless patterns against her back and the ends of her hair.

At some point, some part of his mind decides to start mumbling words against her, quiet promises and guarantees he’s got no business making – it’s fine and nothing’s happening, love and I’m right here, Emma. She tightens her hold on his middle, almost the wrong side of painful, particularly when his phone starts to make that obnoxious buzzing sound again.

“Is your phone ringing?” Emma asks, not quite able to mask the sniffle when she inhales again.

Killian nods. “Incessantly it seems.” “Should you be acknowledging that?” “No.” “Is it Scarlet?” “No.” Emma leans back, an appraising look on her face. “Ok,” she says slowly. “I’m not...actually trying to pry, but apparently we’re doing this not telling each other stuff now and--” She grits her teeth when Killian’s eyes widen. “Damn, that’s not what I meant. I just…” “I know, Swan,” Killian promises. “And it wasn’t an intentional secret, more a biding my time secret until I figured out a way that it wouldn’t be an issue.” “And have you?” He shakes his head, disappointment slinking down his spine and threatening to freeze him to the spot. They could probably market that in Times Square, honestly. “No, nothing. And Scarlet said the pita people are a little annoyed with us now because Gold’s offering more money and threatening to get the city involved and--” “--Can he do that?” “I have no idea, which is part of my problem, honestly. But I’ve also got an actual business to run still and try to make money at so I haven’t been able to devote a ton of time to research.”

“Plus reclaiming your festivity,” Emma adds, voice dropping a hint in a way that is far too telling because they spend far too much time together and she’s definitely been using Christmas cookies as some kind of emotional buffer.

That tourist totally thought they were a couple.

God, Killian hates when Will is right. It’s so annoying.

“That’s something I was more than willing to dedicate several days to if I needed,” Killian says. He makes a face – a twist of eyebrows that always manages to get Emma’s lips to twitch slightly, the most delicious kind of festive themed torture.

“I think Scarlet would kill you. I already told him I’d bake him some kind of cookie loaf thing his mom used to make when he was a kid to make up for this.”

The ice at the base of Killian’s spine melts immediately, only to turn into fireworks and hope and so much goddamn want he can’t understand how it’s not just pouring out of every single one of his pores. Emma smiles. “You want some help? When you make it, I mean.” “I was thinking about doing it when we get home. Then he can eat it while he complains about how bad American football is tomorrow and wax poetic about the Premier League or whatever it is he watches.”

“The Netherlands National team.” “Is that weird?” “I think his mom went to Amsterdam once,” Killian reasons. “It’s definitely a family thing. What if we bake whatever cookie loaf whatever in wooden shoes. That’s festive, right?” “I think that may be a stereotype honestly.” He makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat – another attempt to get Emma to smile that may, honestly, be just flirting. He is, admittedly, still having a difficult time hearing her call the apartment they have shared for literal years as home.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to antagonize him on purpose,” Emma says, stabbing a finger into his jacket. They’ve finally started moving again, walking up 7th Ave with the throngs of tourists and flustered retail workers and Killian has absolutely no idea where their destination is.

“Would I do that?” “I think you are, currently.” “Nah,” Killian says, but it sounds exactly like the lie it is and he realizes where they’re heading. Towards that line wrapped around the corner of the block, shivering families and over-excited kids and Emma when her head falls against his shoulder.

“Damn,” she breathes. “I didn’t think this place got a line anymore. What year is it?” “It’s Saturday.” “Damn.” Killian hums in agreement because he can’t quite understand why anyone in their right mind would stand in line to get into the goddamn Hershey’s store. It’s a tiny space and it probably smells even more sugary than their apartment, the scent wafting onto the sidewalk every time someone opens up the door.

“How much do you think this door person gets an hour to direct this line?” Emma murmurs, not lifting her head up.

“Not nearly enough.” “Yeah, that’s true. Damn. Seriously. I know I just keep saying that, but David said Ruth wanted this one specific kind of hot chocolate.” “Oh, is that why we’re here?” Emma makes a noise that might be agreement or the growing sense of frustration at their inability to start the plan on the right foot. “It has to be Hershey’s?”

“So David claims.” “That is oddly specific.” “I’m just the messenger.” “It’s been appropriately delivered,” Killian says. He lets his cheek rest against the top of her hair, staring at the door to the Hershey store as it keeps swinging open and the, very likely underpaid, door attendant tries to explain why you can’t go in quite yet to every person who asks him. “What about M&M hot chocolate? That’s like…” “Close?” Emma suggests.

“Like 7th Avenue and Broadway on 44th Street.”

It gets the laugh he was hoping for and the smile he was only slightly determined to work out of her, a breath of fresh air and brightness that would rival every light in Times Square in several hours. He’s thinking in metaphors now.

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “Exactly like that. Alright, well we’re oh-for-one. It can only get better from here, right?” “That’s definitely the spirit, love.”

She nods once, a quick smile and even quicker tug to the end of the scarf she’d totally forced him to wear that morning, before grabbing his hand again and tugging him towards the M&M store on the other side of the street.

It’s a bigger store than its Hershey counterpart – several floors and more space between shelves and while there are still plenty of people crammed inside, it’s not impossible to breathe as soon as they try to move. Emma doesn’t let go of Killian’s hand. Or the the other way around. He honestly could not care less, just lets her direct them forward and it takes half a second to realize she’s humming along with the Christmas music they’re playing.

And Killian’s laugh seems to almost fall out of him, quiet and a little surprised because, even after all these years, he’s a little surprised by how easy it is to remember how much he loves her. She keeps humming, head moving with the beat every now and then until the music shifts and stops and--

“God, what the hell is that?” Emma asks sharply as a painfully cheery voice announces it’s time for our hourly holiday giveaway over the PA system. “They give away something every hour?” “I don’t think they’re exactly lacking for funds here, Swan.” “You’re a miser.” “No, no, Scrooge never would have made Jacob Marley baked goods when he got home later.” “You are helping. You’re not making them and--wait, wait, I know the answer to that question!” He hadn’t heard the question. It clearly doesn’t matter though, because Emma is moving and Killian’s got no choice to follow her, twisting around displays and oversized versions of the M&Ms on the TV commercials and there’s a glint in her eyes that he hasn’t seen in forever as soon as they skid to a stop on the side of the cash registers.

“Hi,” she says brightly to a polo-wearing worker who only looks a little stunned by the enthusiasm in front of her. “I know the answer to your trivia, giveaway thing.” The theme of the day may actually be both Emma and Killian overwhelming strangers across Midtown Manhattan.

The girl’s eyes dart across Emma’s face, likely looking for signs of impending insanity because he can only imagine the kind of people who come into the M&M store shouting about things throughout December, but she doesn’t appear to find anything entirely wrong and her answering smile is only a little tremulous and customer service appropriate.

“You know what other Christmas song was referenced in Christmas (Baby please come home)? By Michael Bublé?” “Well, I mean all of them. The lyrics don’t change just because Bublé is or isn’t singing it. Better with him, but…” Emma shrugs and Killian genuinely isn’t sure whether to laugh or kiss her or possibly just shout that he’d very much like to spend the rest of his life scandalizing M&M store workers with Christmas knowledge for the rest of their lives. “Everything’s better with Bublé at Christmas, right?” Emma continues, and the worker nods slowly. “Anyway the answer is Deck the Halls.”

“That’s right,” the worker says. Her name is Aurora. It says so on the tag on her shirt.

“Yeah, I know.”

Killian ducks his head, moving it directly into Emma’s hair, which is either the greatest or worst idea he’s ever had, but he’s also having a difficult time staying upright while laughing so hard. Aurora looks even more stunned.

“Ok,” she says, more forced customer service voice as she leans back behind the register to grab a pre-filled bag of red and green M&Ms off the nearest shelf. “So, uh...congrats on your extensive holiday knowledge and opinions on Michael Bublé.” “Who doesn’t like Michael Bublé?” Emma counters. She takes the bag, a quiet noise because it’s obviously heavier than she expected. Killian is feeling more festive already. He didn’t know the answer to the trivia question. “Also, thanks. Do you guys sell hot chocolate? You know fancy hot chocolate? That could be easily passed off as hot chocolate made by Hershey?” “There’s a Hershey store on the other side of the--” “--We weren’t really big on waiting in the line,” Killian explains, Aurora’s eyebrows jumping when he joins the conversation.

“Ah, well, unfortunately no. Unless you’re looking for Dove chocolate hot chocolate.” Emma shakes her head. “M&M owns Dove chocolate too?” “Mars does. And, like, every gum brand you can think of. Although I’m pretty partial to Juicy Fruit. And Uncle Ben’s rice.” “Wow,” Emma muses, shifting the candy into the crook of her elbow. “That is...something huh? Corporate. That's the word I was looking for. It’s corporate.” Aurora looks incredibly confused. That’s fair. But Killian can hear the hint of something on the edge of Emma’s voice, a flash of disappointment that does not belong in this day or this month or this holiday and at some point he really will stop pressing kisses to her temple.

Probably when his stomach unclenches.

“C’mon, love,” he says, letting go of her hand so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. “I bet there’s super fancy hot chocolate in Bryant Park.” That’s the next stop on her list. She smiles.

And they end up giving the M&Ms to the door man at the Hershey store – some kind of up yours to corporate America that probably doesn’t belong at Christmas either, but Phillip, his name is Phillip it says so on his name tag, mumbles something like oh my God, thank you, I never have enough time to eat on my 15 and promises not to brandish competitive merchandise. They tell him the bag was made by Aurora in the M&M store who really likes Juicy Fruit gum.

He beams at them.

It only takes a few minutes to get to Bryant Park, twisting their way between tourists and slow-moving cars in Times Square and both of them exhale sharply as soon as their feet land on the 6th Avenue. That, of course, only lasts as long as it takes to get across 6th Avenue and the sea of humanity waiting for them in Bryant Park is only a little intimidating.

“If I just keep mumbling damn under my breath all day is that going to get super annoying and repetitive?” Emma asks.

Killian shakes his head. “Depends on your voice inflection. Throw in some accents too. It’ll sound like a new word every single time.” “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” “Did you not hear yourself say you wanted to go ice skating before?”

“Maybe we’re both secretly fantastic ice skaters and we’re just missing our potential. This is our moment. Carpe diem or whatever.” “You know usually people leave off the whatever part of carpe diem and I think the whole phrase really suffers because of it. Not nearly as inspiring.”

Emma scoffs, but there’s still a smile on her face and she pulls herself closer to him when he moves his eyebrows. “You think you’re very charming don’t you?” “Only around you.” It’s not actually an admission, but it kind of feels like one and Killian digs his teeth into the side of his tongue. To stay grounded. Or whatever. Emma, however, doesn’t seem troubled, just presses up on her toes and rests a freezing cold hand against his cheek.

“I’ll take it,” she says. “C’mon. We’ve got to rent skates.”

Skating, it turns out, is much more difficult than Killian expected to be. The rink itself isn’t particularly crowded, but ice, by its very nature, is particularly slippery and neither he nor Emma seem capable of finding their stride.

He hopes that isn’t a sign.

“Oh my God, no, you’re going too quickly,” Emma says, breathless and a little flushed. That may be a sign.

“Swan, we literally cannot be going any slower. We’re not even moving.” “Too quick.” Killian chuckles, but the sound turns into a groan when Emma’s skate skids underneath her, sending her crashing into his chest. “Oh shit, this was a mistake,” she moans. “Whose idea was this? This is not festive at all.” “Your idea, love.” “Idiot.” He’s back to laughing and the security guard with perfect skating form, who probably makes a bit more than either Phillip or Aurora, keeps glancing at them. Because they aren’t moving. And haven’t in some time.

“That’s incredibly untrue,” Killian says, leaning back slightly. It’s a mistake – they both shake and wobble, baited breath and wide eyes with only the fear of becoming some viral sensation keeping them upright.

There are a lot of phone in Bryant Park. And Christmas music. He’s fairly positive this same song has been playing on a loop for the last thirty-three and a half minutes.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?” Killian presses, and the ice under him suddenly feels thinner. Metaphorically. Emma’s eyes flash, a warning there. He ignores it. “C’mon Jones, you’ll love it. It’s a famous roller coaster. On the Travel Channel all the time. Everyone has to go on it once in their life. Just ignore the negative effects the g-forces will have on your internal organs.” Emma’s nose twitches. “I never said that part. And if that was supposed to sound like my voice, it was absolutely atrocious.” “Eh, I’m working on the fly here,” Killian grins.

“Well the least you could do is quote me correctly. Don’t you actually remember what I said?” “Perfectly.” He doesn’t shout the word, although the security guard definitely looks up like he did. That may be because it’s the truest truth Killian has ever spoken. “You said you didn’t want to ride with some stranger if I wimped out. Mary Margaret and David were probably already making out in line.” “They totally were.” “Interrupting,” Killian mumbles, Emma sticking her tongue out in response. “Anyway, they were off being disgusting and you said I had to ride and--” He has to take a deep breath, the ice feeling like it’s melting a bit under him, but that may just be because Emma's fingers are warm when they lace through his.

“I told you that if you freaked, you could just hold onto me,” Emma finishes. “Because I wasn’t going anywhere and you made a joke about Isaac Newton.” That was timely.” “Yuh huh. Ok, we can go slightly faster on the ice if you absolutely do not let go.”

Killian nods, tugging Emma’s hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles. “One foot in front of the other.”

They push off.

And for, at least, sixteen full seconds Killian is certain this is going to work. They’re gliding and haven’t sustained any lasting injuries and Emma’s hand feels impossibly wonderful in his. It’s good. Great, even. Festive, for sure.

That is, of course, until an alarm blares somewhere and the kid pushing a wooden sled thing shaped like a tree to help him keep his balance totally loses his balance.

Emma yelps, Killian growling a wholly inappropriate curse with a now-crying kid in such close proximity. It’s less good then. Because then they’re a mess of limbs and Emma’s hair in his face and ice is incredibly painful when they’re both landing on top of it with a distinct lack of grace.

Neither one of them lets go of the other’s hand.

“Those g-forces were more aggressive than I expected,” Killian mutters once he gets some oxygen back into his lungs and a bit of feeling back into his right leg. The words are mostly pressed into Emma’s cheek though, half her body still draped over his and the laugh that flies out of her is questionably loud.

“That’s not even funny.” “You’re laughing!” “No, this is not laughter--” Emma’s body shakes when she cuts herself off, twisting in a way that is entirely unfair when they are still so decidedly in public, and Killian isn’t entirely prepared for the look on her face. It makes his heart thud erratically in his chest and his vision swims slightly, but that may just be because of the distinct lack of blood flow he’s getting to several different limbs at this point.

“Thank you,” Emma finishes. He doesn’t expect that.

“What?” “Thank you. For...well, for going along with this festive nonsense and I know Scarlet was pissed you weren’t going to be there later--” “--He can deal with it. It’s probably one of the last Saturdays he’ll have to be behind the bar anyway, so you know, relatively speaking.” “I really don’t think that’s true.” Killian arches an eyebrow. “No?” “No,” Emma says, and there’s no way to doubt the certainty in her voice. The same certainty that knew he’d enjoy the goddamn roller coaster and that they should definitely go on the roller coaster three more times while David and Mary Margaret did something disgustingly romantic on the other side of the park.

That may be the biggest sign of them all.

Killian wonders if that’s what they actually tripped over.

“No,” Emma says again, fingers drifting back to his chest and the zipper hanging underneath his scarf. He’s definitely not counting the number of times her fingers drift. Only a crazy person would do that. “This is--Christmas is supposed to be good, right?” “I’m fairly certain those are the rules, yes.” “Then this is going to be good and fine and--” “--Festive.”

She beams. And for another few seconds, not quite sixteen because nothing can ever be normal or consistent, Killian is positive he’s going to duck his head and kiss her. Right there on the goddamn ice in Bryant Park. He’s half an inch away from doing it, the glint in her eyes doing something specific to his cognizant reasoning and ability to breathe and Emma’s fingers are still toying with metal and fabric and, if put under oath and asked, he would guarantee she tilts her head up.

Towards him.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Exactly that. That’s--” “--I’m going to have to ask both of you to get off the ice.”

Emma’s eyes flutter shut, head dropping onto Killian’s shoulder and he’s probably going to limp for the rest of the afternoon. That may make the rest of the schedule difficult. Plus the whole kissing thing.

He ignores that part.

The security guards stares at them expectantly when neither one of them makes a move to stand up. “Now,” he says. “Unless you’d like to do some single-hand combat with the zamboni.”

Emma’s body shakes again and Killian isn’t sure what noise he makes, but it doesn’t sound human and kind of hurts his throat on the way out. “That’s definitely a new angle for the Greatest Story Ever Told,” he mumbles, nudging Emma up and they both slip and slide and glare at the security guard in equal measure.

The zamboni does not appear to be moving.

“Who does that make us, exactly?” she asks, arms flailing slightly to keep her balance. They could not be farther away from the opening in the boards. “Different variations of the Little Drummer Boy?” “Well you do know all the words to every Christmas song ever written, Swan.” He does it, only partially, to get that very specific flush on her face – but that partial amount may honestly be, like, ninety-seven and half percent and Killian barely hears the security guard clear his throat. “Not all of them,” Emma grumbles. “Just, you know. Some of them. A normal amount. People know these things. Maybe you’re the weird one.” “Yuh huh.” She sticks her tongue out again, glancing at the security guard. “In that one song. The guy from Tennessee. Do you know where he was heading?" “Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie,” the security guard responds. He doesn’t smile, not entirely, but his lips quirk just a bit and the zamboni is still on the other side of the ice. “That’s basic Christmas song knowledge, ma’am.”

Emma makes a sound that will probably echo in between Killian’s ears until New Year’s and possibly the rest of his life – joyful and festive and he hopes the smile on her face imprints itself on his brain because he can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t remember every single bit of that very particular smile.

Probably to continue to pine for his roommate.

And her knowledge of Christmas song lyrics. But mostly her. Just. In general.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Emma continues, working her way against Killian’s side as the security guard does his very best to usher them off the ice and away from the slowest-moving zamboni in the history of the world. “Thank you for proving my point. You’ve done a very good Christmas thing here.”

“It’s been my pleasure ma’am, but if we’re finished discussing slightly nostalgic holiday feelings, then I’m really going to have to ask you and your boyfriend to get off the ice. Killian’s eyes fall out of his head. Or, at least, they feel like they do. He imagines there’d be more yelling from the ever-growing crowd on the right side of the boards if they had.

As such, there’s no yelling, just a distinct lack of contradiction from either him or Emma and it’s not the first time someone has made that mistake. In fact, it’s a mistake that has become so common that it’s almost expected and his pulse nearly stays at a normal, human level when someone utters those words in that very specific order.

Almost.

So they don’t say anything, no correction or objection, just slightly awkward skating technique and quiet happy holidays under their breath when they avoid fighting the zamboni. And Emma’s still smiling when they hand their skates back, head tilted up towards Killian because it’s still early and there’s still plenty of city and--

“You want to get some food?”

She nods. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They don’t go in every store in the holiday market, but it’s pretty close, testing as many overpriced food in the name of festivity as they can. There’s a fairly serious debate over the Belgian fries and which sauces they should get and whether or not the cookies that they buy from the booth four away from Max Brenners are better than Ruth’s.

“I’m going to tell her you even considered this for one single, solitary second and she’s going to kick you out of the house,” Emma warns, Killian already shaking his head.

“Nope. She likes me way too much. I am Ruth’s favorite kid.” “You are not her kid.” “Tell that to Ruth.” “God, it’s so stupid when you’re right. You do this whole thing with your face and it’s--” She waves a frustrated hand a few inches away from his nose, yelping when he nips at her fingertips. “It’s genuinely the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” “We should have ordered garlic aioli for the fires.” “Ah, damn that sounds good.” “At some point you’re going to realize I know absolutely everything, love,” Killian laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders to direct her back to the fries booth. The garlic aioli is worth it.

Although it doesn’t entirely go with the eggnog-flavored coffee.

“We should have waited,” Emma says, wandering up Fifth Avenue and the crowds around them only seem to be growing. “You know, like swimming.” Killian scoffs. “Wait thirty minutes post aioli to drink a festive beverage?” “I mean, that sounds kind of fancy, but something along those lines, yeah. Is it just me or is it getting even more crowded?” “It’s Saturday.” “You say that like it’s a reason.” “Is it not?” he asks, weaving his way through a very obvious tour group and his toes are going to be bruised from the beating they are currently taking. “This is really ruining my perception of eggnog completely, love. I think we’re going to have to chalk this up as a mistake and try again later.” “We’re going to spend a small fortune on food and beverage.” “Ah, well, what better way to declare bankruptcy?” “That’s the spirit, for sure.” He chuckles, tossing the cup out and reaching behind him for Emma. Something about the crowd and people’s inability to walk across the street in a timely fashion. “Are you worried I’m going to get lost?” Killian glances over his shoulder to find her smiling at her, a few flecks of what may be more snow because it’s starting to get cold again in her hair. He nods slowly. Or quickly. He’s not entirely sure. Everything seems to have lost its meaning outside of the moment and them and they’re the ones causing pedestrian issues now.

A horn honks at them when the light turns.

“Oh shit,” Killian breathes, tugging Emma against him with far more force than necessary and he hadn’t realized they were so close to Rockefeller Center already. “Do they realize it’s just a tree?” “Do we realize it’s just a tree?” “This is a very good question.” Emma laughs, twisting around him until she’s the one doing the tugging and it isn’t really all that hard to get closer. That’s probably another sign. They’re practically slamming into Killian at this point. That may bruise too.

“Well,” Emma says, dragging the word out. “It certainly is a tree, isn’t it?”

“With lights.” “And support wires.” “It’s a big tree. There are physics involved.”

Her nose does that thing again. It’s distracting. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about physics, please.” “Isaac Newton.” “What about him?” “Knew about physics,” Killian shrugs. “Right?” “You having to double check on that leads me to believe he probably didn’t.” “No, no, objects and motion and, you know, intrinsic force or something.” “You made that last one up,” Emma accuses, although it loses a bit of its bite when the smile on her face would probably rival the goddamn tree at night. When it’s lit up. It’s really more impressive then.

They seem to have messed up their Christmas tree timing.

God.

“Alright, here, I will prove it to you,” Killian says. It takes some finagling to get his phone out of his pocket, wincing when his shoulder makes a noise it absolutely shouldn’t and that only gets another laugh out of Emma. And he’s just about to google something, but this whole day has been absolutely absurd and maybe they’re wearing signs that suggest strangers should keep approaching them.

“Would you like me to take your picture?”

The woman in front of them is holding an I Love NY plastic bag. She’s probably from, like...Indiana or something.

“Oh no, no, that’s ok,” Emma promises, rushing over the words so quickly it’s impossible for them to sound anything except disingenuous and people from Indiana are, apparently, very confident.

The woman reaches out to grab Killian’s phone, promising it’s fine, I don’t mind at all and there’s something about her family waiting on line to get into FAO Schwartz too. Killian barely hears any of it, Emma’s arm finding its way around his middle and--

“Smile!”

They do. And Mrs. Indiana takes no less than twenty-seven pictures. “I’m sure I got a good one,” she says, handing Killian back his phone with a genuineness that the world could probably use more of.

He nods. “Thanks. C’mon, love, let’s see if we can guess the themes of some of these windows.”

They get stumped by Cavalli. And the robot theme at Tiffany’s. Although they do go into Tiffany’s which is a little unexpected and kind of nice, particularly when Emma’s breath catches just a bit at several different and decidedly sparkly things.

“I just don’t understand what robots have to do with jewelry,” she says, hours later and tucked into a dimly-lit bar on the Upper West Side that Yelp! promised had very good holiday drinks.

The eggnog tastes better without the lingering bit of aioli. And probably the rum too.

“It’s clearly above our pay grade, Swan.” “Someone had to approve that. Multiple someone’s!” “I’d imagine it was an entire committee,” Killian says. “Ads and sales and marketing. There were probably several graphs made.” “Power points too?” “Undoubtedly.” She laughs over the top of her own drink – something named after some dead poet because that’s this bar’s schtick and the whipped cream on top is threatening to brush against the tip of her nose. Maybe they should get some kind of schtick for their bar too.

Then maybe they can keep it.

“This sounds very in depth.” “Corporate America at its finest,” Killian mutters, a hint of bitterness that does not belong in a bar so clearly obsessed with death and Christmas. Emma blinks. “Sorry, sorry,” he continues. “That wasn’t--you know, one of the first memories I’ve got is walking up Fifth Ave with Liam and questioning every single window display. I was very impressed by Saks.” “Well they do that whole light thing on the side of the building. What kid wouldn’t love that?” He smiles. And takes a far-too-large drink. “That’s a good point.” “I didn’t know you and Liam used to do this,” Emma says, voice dropping slightly because it’s kind of depressing and he’s kind of depressing and he refuses to look at his phone. So he’s kind of immature too.

“That’s not your fault, Swan.”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just…” She exhales, ruffling her own hair in the process and it may be the single most endearing thing he’s ever seen. “I wasn’t lying before. You can tell me stuff and things and whatever you want and I know talking about Liam is--”

The single most difficult thing in the world. She doesn’t actually say that, but she doesn’t have to and Killian keeps wondering what he’d say about a developer and him and he would have liked Emma so much.

God, he likes Emma so much.

He loves her a lot.

It’s getting more difficult not to tell her that.

“You know that was the first time I thought I could really actually decide to like you,” Emma says, an abrupt subject change that makes Killian wonder if he’s more drunk than he thought.

“What?” “I didn’t want you to come on that trip. To the amusement park, I mean. Elsa was supposed to come, but then stuff happened and she couldn’t and David suggested you and I was, God, I was so mad.” “If this is supposed to be a compliment, I’m afraid you’re missing the mark, Swan.” “No, no, I know I am, but...David said he’d asked you and then you were there and I knew we were going to have to ride everything together. I was so pissed about it. Ask Mary Margaret when we go home.” His heart may explode at that particular word. So he takes another drink. “Don’t think I won’t.” “I am counting on it. Because I was so mad, but then you were--” Emma shrugs, downing the rest of her drink and slamming it back on the table like she’s proving a point. “The roller coaster clicked on the chain and you grabbed my hand like death was imminent and it was…”

She sighs again. He’s not counting. He’s totally counting. What a creep.

“I don’t know,” Emma shrugs. “Human.” “Did you think I wasn’t?” “I’d considered alien cyborg for awhile, if I’m being totally honest.” “Brutally it seems.” Emma laughs, twisting her hair around her fingers. A tell. That he noticed a few minutes before they got on the roller coaster.

It feels like they’re about to get on again. Or, maybe, they’ve just never got off.

“This is a good story, I promise,” she says. “I just...we had fun that afternoon, right?” Killian nods. He needs more to drink. “And we’ve never really stopped and I just--it was like something clicked and I thought maybe we could get along and I wouldn’t be some horrible third wheel for Mary Margaret and David for the rest of my life and, well--” Another deep breath. He feels a bit like he’s suffocating. “I wouldn’t have wanted to reclaim my festivity with anyone else.”

It’s not romantic. Not really. It may even be decidedly unromantic.

Killian’s brain doesn’t care – because his brain is on overdrive and his heart is threatening to explode out his chest and he’s standing before he realizes he’s decided, pulling Emma off the stool in the corner and they nearly fall over five different times on their way back to the sidewalk.

“What are we doing?” Emma asks, a note of something in her voice when he hails a cab.

He doesn’t answer. At least not here. “Macy’s,” he says instead, nodding towards the driver and if this is all going to end, if he’s going to lose his bar and his livelihood and his festive spirit, then he’ll be damned if he does get some photographic evidence of how absolutely happy he is right now. In this moment. Without a tourist from Indiana ruining it.

None of the pictures she took were very clear.

Emma doesn’t ask any questions the entire drive downtown, but her eyes keep darting towards Killian and his clearly impatient left foot. He keeps tapping it. And they can’t actually get in front of the store – promising the driver two blocks away is fine , although he’s also a little worried about timing and store hours and they don’t quite run from 36th Street.

They jog. Briskly.

“It can’t possibly be good for me to be this out of breath, can it?” Emma asks, pressed against his side just a few feet past the doors.

“You’d still get your guy, Swan.” “And in this case is the guy Santa?” “You know, I bet if we combined our mind reading abilities in Times Square, we’d make an absolute fortune every day.” She hums, glancing around like whatever department they’ve stumbled into will have directions to Santa. “Where do you think he’s hiding the North Pole?”

“Only one way to find out, right?” Emma nods.

There’s more jogging and weaving through workers offering perfume samples and they’re definitely deep in Macy’s when the escalators start looking older. “Do you think they’re required to keep these?” Killian asks, glancing down at the rickety thing under them. “Like for history?” “New York City does love its history,” Emma says, and if he weren’t so determined to get their picture taken with goddamn Santa Claus he probably would have noticed the way her voice stuttered slightly over the words.

As it is, he’s far too busy gaping at the scene as soon as they step onto the eighth floor. There are snowflakes everywhere – hanging from the ceiling and displays, music pumping through what sounds like a dozen speakers and more than few workers dressed as elves. He hopes they make more than minimum wage.

Some joke about Bob Cratchit or something.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Killian stops dead in his tracks. Emma makes the world’s single most ridiculous noise. “What?” she balks. “An appointment to...see Santa? Are you serious?”

The elf nods. It’s nice to see nothing about this day has made any sense. “It’s uh...a new North Pole tradition this year!”

“Written by the North Pole PR department,” Emma grumbles. The elf nods again. “So there’s like...no chance of getting to see Santa without an appointment? Seriously, why is that a thing?”

The elf glances around – like she’s worried about being overheard and Killian has to press his face into Emma’s hair to stop from dissolving into hysterics. That’s totally why. “It’s crowd control,” she whispers. “You know we had families waiting hours and screaming and crying kids. So many crying kids. But then they’d get inside and they’d get stuck and--”

“--Stuck in the North Pole?” “There’s a pretty extensive display back there,” the elf explains, Emma humming in understanding. “But you’re kind of locked in. This is, you know, better. A little colder, but better.” “Practical,” Killian says.

“Yeah, exactly that.” The elf looks around again, mouth twisting when it appears she comes to some kind of decision. Her eyes narrow slightly, gaze turning appraising and maybe a bit wistful and Killian can’t understand that part, but then Emma squeezes his hand slightly. He hadn’t realized she was holding his hand. “Tell them that you had an appointment for 10:15,” she whispers, leaning over the podium so her hat almost falls off her head. “They’ll let you right in.” Killian blinks. And blinks again. The elf smiles. And Emma squeezes his hand. “C’mon, Jones,” she mutters. “We won’t get what we want for Christmas if we don’t go see Santa.”

The elf yells something as they walk by – barely audible over the classic Christmas carols all but blasting through the North Pole, but it sounds a hell of a lot like that’s really romantic and Killian wonders if anyone’s just gone into complete cardiac arrest in the North Pole.

Probably not.

And there’s not really a line because it’s almost 10:15 on a Saturday in New York and meeting Santa probably isn’t on anyone else’s must-do list, but they still have to wait outside a door and--

“Why Santa?” Emma asks, eyes still bright when she glances at him.

“Wasn’t on your list.” “Yuh huh.” Killian shrugs. “What’s the most ridiculous, cliché Christmas thing you can think of?” “Sending Christmas cards.” “Exactly,” he says, nodding in thanks when a different elf directs them towards a different themed room and Santa smiles at them as soon as they walk. “And,” Killian whispers against Emma’s hair, “you need pictures for that.”

She doesn’t quite gasp, but it may actually make her breath hitch and that very enjoyable flush is back on her cheeks. Santa is asking them questions, another elf directing them towards their designated seats on either side of him, but so much of Killian is tied up with Emma that disentangling that seems like a feat impossible.

So he does the only thing that absolutely, positively does not make sense. He pulls her onto his legs and wraps his arm around her waist and they banter with Santa Claus.

“I just want something good,” Emma answers when asked what she wants, and Killian doesn’t think before he drops a kiss to her shoulder blade.

Santa may wink. “I’ll see what I can do. And what about you, my boy?” Killian startles, Emma’s laughter ringing in his ears. She moved her own around his shoulder at some point. “What she said,” he mutters. “Something...something good.” Santa definitely winks.

And they make ridiculous faces at the camera – smiles and laughter and more tangled limbs that may represent something more because Emma Swan is so much a part of his life that Killian can’t imagine a life that is any different. He doesn’t want to. Not at Christmas.

Or ever.

He pays for the biggest photo package they have. It comes with keychains. And mobile downloads. And, several hours later, after copping some of his own alcohol stock from his own bar, with Emma curled up asleep against him on the couch, he changes his phone’s lock screen – an unposed photo that was probably against the rules to take and even more against the rules to use, but she’s smiling and he’s got his lips pressed against the back of her jacket.

He doesn’t realize she picked the same photo while he was behind the bar.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #secret santa fic #EVERYONE IS IN LOVE #EVENTUALLY THEY WILL ALSO REALIZE THAT

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tea-and-toblerones · 6 years

Text

The One Where Ed Gets Creative With Some Frosting | A One Shot

Happy Christmas Eve everybody! Let’s celebrate with some sexy times with Teddy.

Rated M for Smuts

It had been a week since you and Ed had went drunken caroling and you two hadn’t even touched the decorations since then. You spent the next day re-cooperating, taking care of each other. You both had different hangover cures so the two of you shuffled around the kitchen gathering the things the two of you needed to feel better. Ed swore on a ginger beer first thing then pancakes. You always went for sprite or 7 up with a bowl of ramen, loaded with hot sauce. After your breakfast you both laid on the couch, passing a ice bag between the two of you. You had smeared Vicks under yours and Ed’s nose to curb the nausea.

It wasn’t until Ed brought home two gingerbread house kits did you even think about decorating. When you asked why he got two, he shrugged saying that you guys could make a deluxe house.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, but we can try it.”

You were looking over the kits, seeing what was all inside. Seemed fairly standard. You heard the paper of a second bag crinkle as he had started pulling extra supplies out of another shopping bag.

“I thought maybe we could make little cookie men to live in the cookie house. Not gingerbread men though. That would be weird.”

He had bought a variety of candies. Gumdrops, Mike and Ike’s, candy buttons, gummy worms, miniature and regular candy canes and sixlets. There was also a bunch of different frosting colors, extra food coloring to make different colors and piping bags. He even purchased cookie cutters. Not only was there the men ones, he had Dino ones, a bunch of different types of animals and shapes. Not to mention about every type of sprinkle you could think of. You wondered if the boy had bought out the entire baking aisle.

You had pulled down your battered recipe book and picked out a simple, yet delicious sugar cookie recipe. You had planned on only making one batch, yet here you were, surrounded by one batch of plain sugar cookies, one batch divided out into different colors, one batch of peanut butter and one batch of mint chocolate peanut butter. Ed being the eager student watched everything you did intently, handing you the next ingredient, reading off the directions for you in his smoothest, sexier voice he could muster. He had to repeat himself several times because you were whisked away in his silky dulcet tones.

You tossed the dough in the fridge to chill, doing a quick clean up of the kitchen before Ed drags you out to the living room to start trimming the tree. He had been sitting on floor, untangling the mess of lights. He had them plugged in so he was aglow with the multi colored lights. His face pulled in one of concentration as his fingers worked out the sad excuse of a wrap job. You had tried to keep them neat, wrapping them in an ‘o’ but much like any other type of wire they magically seemed to do the chaos cha cha in the box. You couldn’t help but snap a picture of him, planning on making a sort of scrapbook of your first Christmas together.

He had climbed onto a step ladder to wrap the lights at the top of the tree with ease. You ended up wrapping them a bit on an angle to make up for the two bare patches. The ornaments you owned were all various sizes and shades of blues, white and silver. You had forgone the garland for wispy white and teal ribbons. You had went a purchased glass icicle and snowflake ornaments to really make the tree pop. You both stood back to admire your colorful tree. The bright lights mixed with the cool blues and whites reminded you strongly of Ed’s rainbow-hued body.

“All that’s left is the star on top!” You exclaim, bringing your hands together, proud of your tree.

“Are you sure? I think we missed one.” His voice was airy, almost playing with you. He was fighting the smile that was trying to come across his face.

“You slip something in the box when I wasn’t looking?” Knowing Ed it could be a variety of things. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but the boy’s poker face could definitely use some work. He tried his best to shrug nonchalantly, but he couldn’t keep that grin off his face if his life depended on it.

You look in to see a small, flat box, wrapped in a pretty gold bow. You pick it up and look over to him. “Well what is?”

He just shrugged again. “I dunno, why don’t you open it and find out.”

You pull the ribbon loose, careful not to tear it. When you lifted the lid off you saw an ornament with the picture of the two of you posing in front of giant inflatable gingerbread man. You were laughing, your arm wrapped around him as he was beaming, his santa hat perched jaunty on his head. On the back it read Our first Christmas, with many more to come.

“Oh, Teddy, it’s perfect!” You throw your arms around him, planting your lips on his. After a couple seconds you broke away, your head spinning.

“I’m glad you like it, love. Where does it go?”

“Front and center obviously.” You point to the desired spot and he hangs it where you instructed, cramming the star on the top before climbing back down.

You take several pictures of the tree, some selfies of the two of you with the tree and one with Ed pointing out the ornament, a thumbs up and a huge smile on his face.

You had taken a break halfway through to cut the dough into shapes and start baking them off. You were checking to see if they had cooled off enough to start icing. You placed them on a plate and went to set them on the table to start decorating. When you turned around you saw Ed sitting at the table, waiting patiently to begin. He had stripped his shirt off and used the peel and stick Christmas bows as pasties. You had packed the gift wrapping stuff with the ornaments and Ed had obviously found it. He wore a cheeky grin, waiting for you to comment, but instead you acted like this was completely normal, which for Ed it was.

“Okay, we have the not gingerbread men, some trees, some snowmen, some wreaths and some plain round ones to decorate however.”

You had sat side by side, picking a not gingerbread man to start with. Ed had grabbed a round one and began. You were concentrating hard, placing little dots of frosting to use as glue for the candy buttons when you hear Ed whisper your name, so he wouldn’t startle you. When you look up to see what he had decorated, snorting because you had somehow forgotten about the holographic bow pasties he was still wearing. He motioned to the four cookies he had decorated. Four EXTREMELY dirty cookies. He had drew a pair of tits on the first one, followed by a cookie with a very crude pussy, a smile with its tongue out followed and ending with a dick, going the extra step of adding the white sticky fluid coating the head and dripping off.

“You like the sound of that baby girl?” You could hear the lust dripping off of every word. “You like the sound of my tongue on your clit? My fingers in you, working you up? My cock filling you like no other?”

You were still gripping the piping bag and had unknowingly squeezed it, causing the white frosting to shoot out and splatter all over him, sticking to his light chest hair.

You don’t miss a beat, your tongue quick to lick it off. You hear a soft moan as you move from his chest to his neck. You take your time, the little whimpers and moans were just adding fuel to your already raging fire.

“I’m going to lay you down, and the first thing I’m going to do is admire every inch of you.” His feathery tone sending shivers up your spine. “Then I’m going to tease you with my tongue. Starting with your mouth and making my way down to those gorgeous fucking tits of yours.”

Your mouth never stops moving, as you tug the fleece pajama bottoms and boxers down. You feel his muscle clench as his skin comes in contact with the wood of the chair, but otherwise there’s no indication of what you were doing.

“Once I felt like I have teased them enough, I’ll make my way down your stomach and slide my finger past your already drenched entrance making sure to just casually brush against your clit before I begin to thoroughly savor that pretty little sweet tasting cunt of yours that drives me absolutely mad.”

As he was talking you had grabbed the piping bag again, laying a line down his already erect shaft, finishing it off with a ring around the head. You hear a hitch in his voice the moment you press your tongue flat against his warm velvety skin, your hands resting on his thick muscular thighs. You look up at him from under your eyelashes as you wrap your lips around his pink head. His eyes never leave your face, his pupil dilated with arousal as you begin your slow descent down his thick cock.

“I’m going to- nnnngg- tongue and finger- oOooO- fuck you until you- Oh fuuuuck- come completely undone underneath me- Jesus fuck your mouth feels so FUCKING good, baby.”

He had given up on the dirty talk, his hand resting on the back of your head as you bobbed along. His hips thrusting up to meet you. Your eyes still locked on to his as the swears fell steadily from those gorgeous lips of his.

“Your fucking mouth works MIRACLES but it’s nothing compared to that tight pussy that’s going to be wrapped around me. Shit, how you work me up, it’s fucking intoxicating!” His hand went from resting to wound in your hair. His hips had lost what rhythm they had as he was reaching his climax. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m so fucking close…” You could feel his grip tighten right before his release hit the back of your throat. The bows had been dislodged at some point and were laying discarded on the floor along with the rest of his clothing.

You didn’t even bother leaving the kitchen. As soon as you broke away from him, he was out of the chair and pulling off your t shirt as he eased you down on the tiled floor. You tense at the coolness of the tile against your hot skin but Ed mouth quickly made you forget as he made straight for one of your pink buds. He had straddled you as he worked, you could feel the heat radiating of his bright torso as he worked. He broke away sooner than you thought, reaching up on the table, grabbing the piping bag and whichever candy he could reach without getting up, which happened to be the gumdrops. He didn’t squeeze it directly on your body, like you had did, he applied it to his finger and drug it across you torso. He added a fair amount on each one of your breasts and smeared a wide line slowly down your torso. He topped it off by placing gumdrops down the center of the line.

Just as he said, he was in no hurry. He did admire the effect of the frosting covering you. His tongue gliding over his lips as he took you in. You knew he was picturing another sticky white substance covering you. It was a kink of his, but one he hardly ever indulged in. His tongue had in fact explored every inch of your mouth before moving to your neck, leaving a trail of nips and kisses down your neck, causing you to moan.

His tongue pressed against your breast, licking off the frosting off slowly, working in a circular motion towards your nipple. Instead of taking it into his mouth like you had thought, he moved over to your other one, doing the exact same slow, clockwise movement. His mouth hovered over, his warm balmy breath causing you to shiver. You had been prepared for him to pull it up into his mouth but all he did was lightly run his tongue over the pebbled flesh before moving on to the gumdrops. His mouth came down completely over each one, his teeth just grazing your flesh as he collected each one. Every time his teeth made contact you’d shudder. You had raised your head to watch him work. Everytime he collected a piece of candy, his eyes would find yours, his state holding you captive due to the sheer amount of sex appeal it held. It was almost like he was the predator and you were his prey. The way the corners of his lips curled up was reminiscent of something playing with its meal before going in for the kill.

You could feel your need of him growing as he teased you. The candy was gone but there was still traces of frosting left behind. You could see where some had clung to his chest hair as he had made his way down your body. When his tongue did two long drags across your stomach to collect the remaining frosting you let out a shuddering moan. His finger had glided up your thigh, making its way to your wet center. When his middle finger slipped inside a moan escaped your lips,,causing him to smirk.

“Just imagine how it’s gonna feel when my cock is buried deep inside that tight little cunt of yours.” he had spoken with a seductive growl, his mouth trailing down you. His tongue pressing over your wet slit.

“I can never get enough of your delicious cunt. And you’re always drenched and dripping, just waiting for me to lick every bit of you.” everything that came out of his mouth was said slow, seductive voice.

And that’s exactly what he did. His tongue flicking across your sensitive bundle of nerves. He had been rubbing you with his thumb as he spoke, making it hard to focus on his words. You had watched his mouth as he spoke, his tongue coming over his lips, his teeth dragging across his bottom lip in anticipation.

His beard provided enough friction to drive you wild as his mouth sucked at you. His nose brushing against you as he worked in that tantalizing speed. The gentle hums he let out as he worked just added to the sensations. His fingers working you into a frenzy, your hips rocking, burying his face into you more. You loved to watch him work. Those gorgeous copper curls between your legs, just begging for you to sink your hands in. Which you do, enjoying the feel of his silky locks between your fingers. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge as he coaxed you along.

“That’s right, love. Let go for me. I can tell you want to, be a good girl for me, please?” He knew exactly what words to use, matched with the gentle yet demanding voice.

That’s all it took, your body reacting to his commands. The waves of pleasure crashing over you, your grip on him tighten as you rode out your orgasm. Constant praise coming from him as he stroked your hair. His mouth had came on yours, soft but urgent. You could feel his need for you growing with every kiss he pulled from you lips.

“Need to feel you around me baby. Can I? Please?” He gasped out as broke away from your kiss swollen lips. You nod, wanting to feel his cock buried in you, crashing relentlessly against your back wall. Your muscles clenching around him.

You could feel his thick head rubbing over you, coating himself with your fluid before positioning himself at your entrance. You gasped as his head pushed into you, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he begins driving himself into you. Little moans dropping from his mouth as he thrusts himself into you.

“Fucking shit you fit me like a goddamn glove. So fucking tight.” His voice in your ear, his hot breath on your neck causing goosebumps to come across your flesh.

His mouth was working on your neck, massaging it with his teeth, little bursts of air accompanied by a little grunt coming out every time he collided with you. His name coming out of your mouth in a moan that was steadily growing in volume. You could feel the muscles in his arms working as his thrusts became rougher. You wrapped your legs around his torso so he could reach even deeper within you. Your heels digging into the top of his ass, spurring him along as you clung to him. Your legs sliding over his sweat slick skin, making you dig your heels in even more. The sweat on his forehead gleaming under the kitchen light, causing his curls to stick to his forehead. His eyebrows drawn together as he worked, his breath coming out in ragged bursts, punctured by ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ and ‘god damns’. Little beads of sweat clung to his chest hair along with bits of frosting that had remained behind.

You could feel the warmth beginning to gather again as he continued to drive himself into you. You had been matching his rhythm, but had fallen out of sync as his pace quickened. You could tell he was close, so you brought your hand down to your clit, rubbing frantic circles to speed up your release. Your body tingling, every nerve on in, the tension building almost like the pressure you feel before a storm. Your muscles beginning to tense up, your release imminent.

“Fuck, I’m so close baby. So close.” He managed to sputter out between his grunts.

That paired with the frantic pace you had been working at, you felt your release hit you like lightning, setting every nerve on fire as you felt like yourself tighten around him. That paired with the cry that came from you was enough to send him over the edge. His shaky cry mingling with your own as he filled you. You could feel his fluids running out as he pulled away, laying beside you, his chest heaving as he drew air deep in his lungs. He still pulled you close to him, place a kiss on the side of your head.

As much as you wanted to lay there enjoying his presence, now that your lust had been saitied, the floor was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Once you both had caught your breath you moved from the kitchen floor to the shower to wash off the sweat and frosting that was left behind.

Once you were clean, you finished up the cookies, both of you eating the ones he had decorated. The both of you finished the cookies, decorating one to look like Ed, complete with a crude guitar and flannel. He has decorated one to look like you so cookie Teddy wouldn’t be lonely in the gingerbread house. The gingerbread house of hell. Ed had insisted on placing every type of candy on it to create a child’s dream house. He grinned looking at his handiwork. You had started yours to look like a proper house but gave into his pleas of more candy. You place the cookie versions of yourselves with the house, putting it on display.

By the end of the day you had finished all the decorating, the house fully ready for Christmas. You both settled on the couch, mugs of cocoa in hand as you watched yet another Christmas movie. Your eyes going over to the tree, most importantly the ornament he had gotten. The words ‘the first of many’ playing on a loop, causing a smile to come to your face.

“Everything alright, love?” His voice pulling you out of your reverie.

“Everything’s perfect Teddy. Everything’s perfect.”

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