The Caged Bird | ROTG

THIRTEEN

Question: do yall want smut? I planned on writing smut for these two.....but I wasn't sure if my readers would be on board :0 let me know in the comments!

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Tear open the cages,
Let yourself be free.

With your memories refilling everything, you didn't fear him. Now that you thought about it, you never did but you could feel yourself opening up more.

"Do you have any plans for today?" Pitch asked. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

"Oh! It's Thanksgiving." You shrugged. "Not my cup of tea, especially after learning about its history."

"Do they finally teach its true origins in school?"

"Unfortunately no, I only learned it on the internet. Specifically through social media."

"Rather disappointing, I had hoped the education system would do better."

"You and me both." You sighed. "But Happy Thanksgiving, I'm genuinely grateful I met you." When you hadn't received an answer in a while, you turned to check on him. Pitch stood there, as if he was still processing what you said.

"Oh no, was that too much? I'm sorry!" You cried.

"No need to apologize! I'm just not used to receiving such high praise."

"Oh! Well you better get used to it." You laughed. Pitch cocked a brow and leaned in closer, pressing you against the wall.

"Is that a promise?" He whispered, almost like a pur. Your breath hitched and stared into his eyes.

"Absolutely." You winked and slipped under his arm, walking away. "I have to feed Emerson first." You could feel your heart pounding and your face flushed. You opened opened ziplock bag of the one mice inside, setting it inside your snake's terrarium.

"Happy Thanksgiving Em." You watched as she slithered out of her cave to swallow the frozen mice. You returned to where Pitch was. "How about I cook something for today?" You suggested.

"If you're comfortable with doing so, but with what appliances?"

"At my apartment, come on." You held out your hand. The fearlings hissed as Pitch complied, but you ignored them. Your apartment was just the same as you left it.

"Wow, you live here?" Pitch glanced around.

"It's a bit messy."

"You're still a college student, of course there's going to be clutter." Pitch checked your bedroom. "Hm, no wonder you don't get sleep....your bed is buried under all those books."

"Oh!" You awkwardly closed your bedroom door. "Senna went bed shopping with me....cause she knew I wouldn't get one."

"Mm, she sounds like a good friend."

"She is." You started preparing: cleaning the vegetable and meat, gathering all the cooking utensils. Pitch propped himself against the counter with a book he found on the floor, occasionally he would glance at you.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to cook like that?"

"Remember Senna? Her mom substituted for the mother I never had. She taught me everything like the recipe for her special Thanksgiving dinner." You smiled. "She said 'this is a special recipe so share it with someone who is special to you'." The aroma caused your stomach to growl and you looked at your work in satisfaction.