#a double batch of these in the oven right now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

citricacidprince · 2 months ago

Note

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing��, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

191 notes · View notes

therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 years ago

Text

Cookies | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanda’s in her happy place: the kitchen

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendo

Word Count: 1.3K

Masterlist

Wanda’s happy place was the kitchen. Either that or the garden. Domesticity brought a grounded sense of normalcy to her otherwise chaotic life: stripping wasn’t normal, pruning shrubs and breaking down a whole chicken were. At her most stressed, you’d come downstairs in the morning to the kitchen counters overflowing with a variety of muffins, cookies, and other pastries as she poured her stress into sugar.

Most days you left her alone when she got into one of her cooking moods. You learned the hard way when you were on the receiving end of a thrown wooden spoon. That was when you decided it would be best to hide out literally anywhere else in the house, but today you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe it was the sweet smell of her famous double chocolate chunk cookies, or perhaps it was the oldies hits playlist echoing throughout the downstairs. Either way, all you wanted to do was stand and watch.

Wanda was in her own world. She didn’t notice as you slunk your way to the kitchen, crossing your arms as you leaned on the wall, lovingly gazing at her all the while. The sweet smell of her famous double chocolate chunk wafted through the air as the latest batch baked to perfection in the oven. The others sat atop cooling racks, their tantalizing aroma infiltrating your brain. Dressed in her half apron, the strings tied in a neat bow and accentuating her still heavenly figure, Wanda danced around the kitchen. Her baking playlist was filled with an eclectic mixture of artists and genres spanning from the golden oldies to traditional Sokovian folk music. She was on a 70s kick today and Al Green’s voice echoed off the walls of Wanda’s safe haven.

She was ridiculously adorable. Wanda bopped to the beat, swinging her hips as she took one tray out of her oven and replaced it with another. She twirled, singing slightly-off key as she eyed the mixing bowl on the counter. Leave it to Wanda to lick the remaining batter off the spoon even after yelling at the boys to not do so. It was only the sound of your poorly stifled giggle that snapped her back into reality: she froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide as the spoon remained firmly in her mouth.

“What?” she mumbled innocently, swirling her tongue around the last morsels of chocolatey deliciousness.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Just thought licking the batter from the bowl wasn’t allowed in your good Jewish household.”

“This is a spoon, darling, not a bowl.” Wanda rolled her eyes, her lips curving upward in a subtle grin as she turned away from you. Your eyes were glued to the way her jeans fit her perfectly. The looseness of the vintage bell bottoms had no impact on the tight hug the rinsed denim had over her hips. The cookies were definitely not the only snack in the kitchen.�� “What are you staring at?”

“Huh?” Her voice snapped you out of your hypnotized state.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Umm…the stitching on your pockets matches the strings on your apron?” She glanced behind her shoulder, spinning awkwardly to try and look at her back pockets.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out.”

“Well I’m checking you out so…” you smirked.

“How about you check these out instead?” You opened your mouth to speak right as Wanda shoved a warm cookie right inside.

Like always, Wanda’s culinary skills were off the charts. It was warm, gooey, and ever so chocolatey the way you liked. A sinful groan escaped your lips as the morsel literally melted in your mouth.

“Well-?” She cocked her head, hand on her hip as she twirled the spoon around her free hand.

“Perfection. Like usual. But I don’t think these cookies are the best snack in the kitchen right now.” Wanda’s face blushed as red as her shirt at your insinuation. Not one who took praise easily, she kicked one foot in front of the other as she stared at the ground, completely embarrassed. It was her most endearing quality.

“So I’m a snack then?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know if I’d really consider you a snack though, Wanda.”

“Oh-?” Her eyes widened in confusion as you slunk towards her.

“I think that you’re definitely more of a dessert. The end of the meal, the best part of the night. A succulent, luscious, tantalizing dessert.” There wasn’t a second for Wanda to respond to your seductive insinuations. As she opened her mouth, you grabbed her face, pulling her as close as you could and pressing your lips firmly against hers. She tasted of cherry (her choice of chapstick) and chocolate, the intoxicating combination dizzying the both of you. Soft arms wrapped around your neck. The wooden spoon rubbed up against the back of your head and sprinkled your hair with chocolate. You didn’t care. As you deepened the kiss, Wanda carefully walked the two of you back into the island counter. She giggled as a soft bump stopped the two of you and you couldn’t help but smile into her soft lips. Her hands trailed down your neck, the wooden dowel drawing a line down your spine while her hands eventually gripped your waist.

“I smell cookies!”

“I’ll beat you to-EWW!”

Nothing broke the two of you apart faster than Billy and Tommy stopping dead in their tracks in front of you. Wanda pushed you off of her so hard you nearly toppled over while the spoon fell forgotten to the ground.

“Gross!” Billy mumbled as he grabbed two cookies off the cooling rack, not bothering to make eye contact with either you or his mother.

“Yeah, get a room, mom,” Tommy chided as he shoveled a stack of cookies into his hands.

“Excuse me, young man, but that’s way too many cookies,” Wanda scolded as she readjusted her rumpled shirt.

“If I eat enough cookies I’ll forget what I saw. Do you want me to be scarred for life?” Somehow you managed to cover your laugh with a cough as you knelt down to pick up the spoon. Wanda was speechless at Tommy’s remark. Her face, once red with desire, was now red with embarrassment. Was it a little impetuous? Yes. Was it funny? Absolutely, but you couldn’t let Wanda know that.

“Just get out of here before I make you put those cookies back, mister!” she called as he raced down the hall.

The two of you stood in the uncomfortable awkwardness of just being caught by Wanda’s sons. While it wasn’t the most compromising position the two of you had been caught in, you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. It was only the dinging of the timer that brought you out of such an awkward pause.

“So…” you mumbled after clearing your throat.

“So…” Wanda answered as she flipped cookies off the hot pan and on to the cooling rack.

“That was-”

“Awkward.”

“Very.”

“It’s our fault. We both knew they’re home.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact I’m incredibly horny,” you shrugged, plopping another cookie into your mouth.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.

“What? I haven’t seen you in a week, your ass looks fantastic in those jeans, and-goddamn, these cookies are incredible.”

“What do my cookies have to do with you being horny?”

“Nothing. They’re just really good.”

Wanda sighed, looking at the empty mixing bowl in front of her. “This is what I get for dating a twenty-five year old,” she mumbled as she shook her head.

“We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to.” Wanda’s head snapped up suddenly, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“Who says I don’t want to?”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

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viceofdionysus · 19 days ago

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Sweet as Candy

Frank Castle x f!Reader Lazy Ghouls' Kinktober Prompt List - Week 4 - DubCon Kinktober Master list (x) 18+ WC: 2.6k Who knew a piece of chocolate could have such an interesting effect? Contains: DubCon, Magical Chocolate, Dry humping, Oral (F!receiving), Tongue fucking, Ass spank (One), Face Fucking, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Manhandling, Cock Riding - Reverse Cowgirl, Cloth Ripping, Cumming inside

The door cracks open, welcoming him into the warm and cozy apartment beyond, the scent of baked goods swirling through the air. He takes a moment to pause, tipping his head back and letting the tension slide out of his muscles. He can hear you singing along softly with the radio and he smiles.

“Hey baby.” He calls.

“Hey handsome!” You answer, “Give me a minute, I’m elbow deep in cupcakes.”

He walks down the short hallway and pauses in the entry to the kitchen. His eyebrows raise in surprise, you weren’t lying. Cupcakes cover every available surface, dressed prettily in a rainbow of autumn colors.

“What is all this? You didn’t have anything on the calendar.”

“Last minute order.” You answer, “I couldn’t say no to Billy’s puppy dog eyes.”

Frank shakes his head, “I haven’t met a woman yet who can.”

“But he’s paying double my rate, plus a hefty rush fee.” You pause and look over at Frank, smiling.

Frank pushes off the doorframe and saunters over to you. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the back of your neck.

“Need any help?”

“No, I’m good. I need to frost this batch and the one in the oven, and then I only have one more after that.” Your nose crinkles, “But the last batch are filled cupcakes, so they’ll take a little longer.”

Frank nuzzles behind your ear, drawing in the sugar sweet scent of you, “Just let me know. You know my hands are at your disposal whenever you need them.”

Your eyes widen as lust raises her head in your core at his double meaning. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You say faintly.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you, and steps back.

“Oh, before I forget, there’s a candy bar on the table for you.” You say, “A woman at the store was giving them out and she was very insistent that I take one.”

“Think she drugged them?” Frank asks, altering his course towards the small kitchen table.

You laugh, “I think she’s trying to get her business started, so she’s forcing samples on people.”

Frank picks up the thick rectangle, the plastic wrapper crinkling in his hand. “Damn.” He says, looking at the candy bar that’s just longer than his palm.

He opens the bag and carefully breaks the bar into fourths, before drawing one out. He bites into it and groans. It’s the right amount if sweet, the chocolate rich and smooth on his tongue. There’s just a bite of something a little spicy to balance the sweet, and he feels something heated beat inside him in answer.

“I don’t think she’ll have any problems getting customers.”

“That good?”

“Incredible. You want a bite?”

“I really do. But not until I’m done,” You sigh, looking over your shoulder at Frank. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed.”

Frank just nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. Probably just from coming in from outside.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but let him get away with it for now. “Alright, but if you start feeling weird, let me know.”

Frank just laughs and sets the chocolate back on the table, leaving your square on top. You turn back to the cupcakes, icing the remaining two in the batch with quick circles of your wrist. Frank’s footsteps tell you he’s left the kitchen and headed towards the living room.

Frank leans back into the couch, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. He’d picked up the remote, but it hangs loosely in his hand, the TV still black. It only takes a moment before his eyes slide closed, his head falling back.

After pulling the cupcakes out of the oven, you slide the last batch in and lean against the counter. Your eyes fall on the chocolate square waiting for you, looking like the most tempting thing you’ve ever seen. Leaving the cupcakes to cool, you cross the short distance and pick up the chocolate. As soon as you pop it in your mouth, it starts to melt, swirling sweetness and heat.

“Oh, oh damn, that’s good.” You press a hand to your mouth and just let yourself enjoy the flavors for a moment.

After you swallow, you turn back to the cupcakes, heat starting to build in your core already.

Frank wakes suddenly, his heart pounding wildly, his cock aching. He stumbles to his feet and makes his way down the hall to the bathroom. The door doesn’t shut all the way behind him, but he’s not worried about it. Instead he looks in the mirror, seeing his flushed cheeks and wide peoples.

“Allergic reaction?” He thinks and leans forward.

As soon as he makes contact with the counter, he grinds his hard cock into it. Bright pleasure zips through him, quickly followed by a sense of dissatisfaction. It’s not enough, it’s not right. Just as his thoughts are starting to spiral, he hears your voice in the kitchen.

You hear the bathroom door bang open, but you’re focused on scooping out the guts of the cupcakes so you can fill them. “Frank? You okay baby?”

In answer, he wraps his hands around your waist, and presses close to you. The heat of him sears through you.

“Frank!” You laugh, picking up the bag of cream filling.

He watches you, dark eyes wide, as you press the tip into the cupcakes and firmly stroke the bag. The bag spurts under your hands and soon the cupcakes are brimming with creamy filling. Without realizing it, Frank starts to grind his hips against you, enjoying the slow drag of his cock against your softness.

“Frank?” You ask, setting the bag down, “You okay?”

“Need you.” He says, breath hot against your ear, “Need you right now, honeygirl.”

“Frank, I need to,” He cuts you off with a particularly firm roll of his hips.

“Keep working,” He says, “I won’t distract you.”

As if the man isn’t a walking distraction, you think, picking up the frosting bag. He shifts and you realize that he’s kneeled behind you. As you open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, he shoves up the hem of your dress, and licks a long stripe up your pussy.

“Frank!”

“Taste so good for me, honeygirl. Sweetest thing in the world.”

The cloth between him and your core barely manages to mute the heat and wetness of his mouth. You groan, dropping the frosting bag back on the counter, as he mouths at you, the wetness from his mouth joining the wetness for your core. He teases you like that for a while, until he can feel your hips rocking insistently against his face. Then he hooks two fingers around the gusset and moves it away, watching as it clings to you before allowing itself to be pulled free. He dives back in, his tongue sliding through your folds, the scruff on his cheeks rough against your thighs.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasp.

Frank sets his hands on the back of your thighs, gently guiding them further apart, giving him more room to work. He brushes the tip of his tongue over your clit, enjoying your long moan. He can feel his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans, but he can’t be bothered to do anything about it. The taste of you on his tongue spurns him to lick harder, faster.

He slides his hands up your thighs to grip the soft globes of your ass. He kneads firmly and you’re sure you’re going to have impressions of his hands. He rapidly flicks his tongue over your clit, drawing out all your prettiest noises. Stars are beginning to form behind your eyes when he shifts and wraps his lips around the small bud. He suckles gently at your clit, hearing the hitch in your breathing.

“Frank.” You gasp.

You can feel him smile into your pussy before he sucks more firmly. It doesn’t take much more before you’re coming apart for him. You gasp softly as he pulls his head back and you think for a moment that he’s satisfied. But then he slowly grips your ass firmly as spreads your cheeks apart. He licks his lips as more of you is exposed to him, his eye tracking over your glistening folds, your soaked hole.

“Damn, honeygirl.” He murmurs before diving back in.

He slides his tongue through your folds, gathering your delicious slick, groaning at the taste of you. He keeps licking, occasionally using his teeth to gently tease your folds until you’re moaning for him. He alternates to long licks up your pussy, stopping short of your clenching entrance. When your moans take on a desperate edge, he turns and bites into your soft thighs, sucking a dark mark into your flesh.

Frank dips his tongue into your pussy, driving it back and forth slowly. As he tongue fucks you, you whine at the feeling of his hums vibrating through your pussy.

“Frank!” You grip the counter tightly, fighting for balance.

He groans, rutting his aching cock against empty air. Slowly, he moves one of his hands until he can rest his thumb against your clit, pressing against it in firm, tight circles.

“Oh!” You sob, throwing your head back.

He tongue fucks you into one orgasm and keeps going as you quiver around him. He continues as your trembles still around him, his thumb pausing against your clit. The pressure is beautiful, but you miss the friction of it. Gently you rock your hips, trying to get him moving again. But when he does, it’s not what you expect. His other hand lets go over your ass cheek and he gives you one firm spank that has you gasping.

“Frank, please!”

He pulls you back, rocking your hips until you get the message. You find a rhythm, rocking along his face as he keeps his tongue darting in and out of you. You can feel the drag of his stumble along your thighs, the press of his nose in your sensitive areas.

“Frank,” You gasp, fucking yourself against his face. When you falter, he grabs your hips and finds the pace for you.

Pleasure snaps suddenly, sending you spiraling. He grins, never letting his tongue still. He runs his thumb through your soaked folds, gathering up your wetness and then sets his hand against your lower back, shifting until he can press the pad of his thumb against the star of your ass.

“Oh! Fuck!”

Your hips press insistently against him as he slowly circles his thumb. As he presses his thumb firmly, but not enough to slide in, he curls his tongue into your sweet spongy spot. An insistent heat, so familiar, but so different, scorches through you, leaving you panting and needy.

“Frank!” You sob, pleasuring building fast in your core.

His tongue is unrelenting inside you, pressing against you in a way that has stars forming behind your eyes again. The added pressure at your ass has you falling over your edge almost too quickly. But Frank is right there to start building you up again.

As he feels your orgasm start to subside, he starts working his thumbs in tandem, working your clit and the tight ring of your ass in small, firm circles. The winding coil of pleasure in your core snaps tight and then shatters, the stars behind your eyes blinding. When you manage to come down, your breath rapid and your chest heaving, Frank is still going.

He’s drawn your hips back until you're standing on tiptoes, his whole face buried in your pussy. You wonder if he can breathe like that, but the thought passes quickly.

It feels like his tongue is everywhere at once, your sensitive pussy reacting to the slightest brush of him. The stubble brushing against your thighs is sending jolts of pleasure through you with every movement. You think that you should feel spent and exhausted, but if anything every orgasm makes you feel more turned on, more desperate.

“Frank!”

He slides his tongue out of your weeping pussy and trades it for the fingers that were at your clit. As he works them into you, he gently laps at our clit. It feels like all your nerves are on fire, pleasure searing all other thoughts out of your brain. You don’t know when you started, but you realize that you’re chanting his name.

You’re not sure how many times he brings you up to and over your edge, but at some point your arms lose their ability to hold you up and you sprawl over the counter, narrowly avoiding the cupcakes.

When he finally pulls back, licking his lips, you feel loose and warm, but even still need pounds in you. Frank gently spreads you open with two fingers, pleased at the way you’ve bloomed for him.

“Frank,” He hears you whine.

“You still need more, honeygirl?” He asks, shifting to rut against your leg.

“Please.” He hears you whine.

In a quick movement, he yanks you down to him, shifting to press his back against a counter as he pulls your back flush against him. Your knees splay wide on either side of his broad lap as he settles you against him. He bounces you on his lap a few times, enjoying the way you whine at the not enough pressure. With one hand, he manages to undo his jeans and shove them down, catching his underwear too. His other hand grabs and bunches the back of your dress into a handhold for him. He guides you to his cock, his progress stopped by your underwear. With a snarl, he reaches between your legs and rips the fabric in two. He rolls his hips, dragging his cock against you until it’s covered with your slick.

“Frank!”

“I’ve got you, honeygirl.” He reassures you, “I’ve got you.”

He guides you back to his cock, stopping you as the tip slides inside. He groans, feeling the way you clench around him. Then he pulls you all the way back, hilting himself in a smooth move. You gasp as the sudden fullness. Frank reaches around and cups your breasts firmly, tugging at your nipples through the dress. His hands dive into your dress, tugging it down as he scoops your breasts up. The fabric of the dress pulls tight over your shoulders as he forces the neckline to rest under your boobs. He gives a small thrust, pleased at how they bounce in his hands.

“Frank.” He knows what you’re asking for, what both of you need.

He settles his hands on your hips and guides you up and down on his cock. You're clenching around him, already so close to another orgasm. Frank can feel his cock throbbing, the desperate need to empty his balls into you is the only thing driving him. He moves you faster, but it's still not enough. He slams you back down on his cock until he’s fully hilted again and he grinds against you, slow and dirty. You gasp, feeling yourself clench tightly around him.

“Fuck, baby,” He whispers, “Play with your clit.”

Immediately your hand slides under your dress and finds you clit. Your fingertips dance over it until you find a rhythm for yourself. It doesn’t take much before he feels your walls starting to flutter around him. When you cum with a sharp gasp, he follows you with a low moan.

When his senses return to him, his hands are resting on your waist, your head tilted back. Gently his nuzzles against your throat.

“Damn, honeygirl.”

Carefully he rocks his hips, his cock still hard and aching and buried deep inside you.

“You got more in you, baby?”

There’s heat and need pounding in your core, making everything hazy. “Yeah, baby,” You manage to answer, “I can go as many times as you want.”

Frank chuckles, rocking his hips in earnest. “We’ll see about that honeygirl.”

#Frank Castle #Frank Castle x f!reader #kinktober 2024 #lazyghoulskinktober2024

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naomijoestar · 29 days ago

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⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: fluff, comedy

warnings: none

characters: josuke, okuyasu, koichi, rohan

notes: i randomly thought of this last night while i was asleep (so you bet i had no sleep and decided to work on this instead) anyways since its the afternoon now i have decided to fix it up and post it! hope you guys enjoy <3

Baking with each duwang gang member!

Josuke Higashikata

Josuke is determined to bake the perfect cake for your anniversary. He’s confident at first, flexing his muscles while mixing the batter, but then he accidentally spills flour all over himself. You laugh so hard you can’t breathe, and he tries to play it off cool.

“Guess I’m just sweet enough already,” he jokes, blowing flour off his nose and winking at you.

As you’re decorating, you catch him using Crazy Diamond to fix a broken egg—claiming it doesn’t count as cheating. You both end up splashing each other with frosting, turning the whole kitchen into a sweet, sticky mess. By the end, the cake is barely decorated, but Josuke pulls you into a hug, both of you laughing uncontrollably. He promises to take you out for a real cake later.

Okuyasu Nijimura

Okuyasu thought baking cookies would be easy—until he realized there were actual instructions involved. He’s squinting at the recipe like it’s written in another language. You decide to guide him step by step, and he keeps asking if it’s okay to eat the dough at every stage.

When you turn around, you catch him eating half of the ingredients, chocolate chips smudged on his face. “What?” he says innocently, mouth full. “I’m just testing them!”

Eventually, you manage to get some cookies into the oven, but when the timer dings, Okuyasu excitedly pulls them out with his The Hand, accidentally wiping away the entire tray. You burst out laughing as he looks at his empty hands in confusion.

“Well… at least we still have the dough!” he grins.

Koichi Hirose

Koichi is surprisingly good at following recipes, but he’s so nervous about impressing you that he keeps double-checking every measurement. “Are you sure it’s exactly one cup?” he asks, staring at the sugar like it might explode.

You reassure him and playfully sneak a dab of frosting onto his cheek. He blushes, flustered but smiling, and tries to return the favor. But the moment is interrupted when Echoes starts repeating every measurement Koichi says, making it impossible to focus. “One cup! One cup! One cup!”

You both burst out laughing as Koichi apologizes and tells Echoes to quiet down. Despite the chaos, the two of you manage to make a beautiful batch of cupcakes, and Koichi proudly hands you the first one, beaming with happiness when you tell him it’s delicious.

Rohan Kishibe

Rohan insists on making something “artistic” and spends way too long sketching out intricate designs for the cookies you’re baking together. He’s laser-focused on getting every detail right, using Heaven’s Door to ensure his piping skills are perfect.

You roll your eyes but play along, knowing he takes pride in his work. At some point, you accidentally knock over a bowl of sprinkles, and Rohan looks over with a disapproving glance. “This is supposed to be a masterpiece, not a disaster zone,” he sighs.

In a playful huff, you sprinkle some of the mess onto his hair. He glares, but then a sly smile spreads across his face. He uses Heaven’s Door to write “in love with sprinkles” in your mind. The next thing you know, you’re giggling uncontrollably, tossing sprinkles everywhere while Rohan shakes his head, pretending to be exasperated—but he’s clearly enjoying it.

Not my best work but i really like what i wrote for my love okuyasu so I decided to post :p Requests are open, so don’t be shy to ask for anything you’d like me to write!❤️

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work <3

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lieslab · 1 year ago

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Sweet Cheeks

Summary: You decide to make Felix a batch of brownies after he has a rough day, but things go wrong.

Word Count: 1,500

Genre: Sickly sweet fluff

Read the last post: 🍯

_ _ _

“Hi baby, I miss you. I’m sorry if I’m not texting you much. It’s been kind of a rough day today. Please don’t be too mad at me. I’ll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. I’m leaving the studio right now and I’ll be home soon. I love you❣️”

You glanced down at the message that your boyfriend had sent you and paused for a moment. Biting down on your lip, you thought for a moment before sending your response.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s okay. We all have bad days sometimes. I’ll be waiting for you when you get here with open arms. See you in a few minutes. I love you too!!”

You glanced at the clock on your phone and paused. You figured that something had been bothering Felix today. He had texted you here and there, but his tone was much different than it normally was. His responses came back in one or two words instead of a few sentences or double, even triple, text messages.

You ran through your brain trying to figure out what Felix did for you when you had a bad day. Most of the time, he made you brownies and insisted that the two of you needed to spend some quality time together. It could be as simple as watching a movie or playing board games.

Your eyes slowly looked up from your phone and across the living room towards a closet. The top of it was filled with a variety of board games that the two of you had collected over the years. Since he was close with the rest of the band and the two of you had your own place, a lot of the time, they all came over to hang out.

There were always, at least, two of them that would bicker about what everyone else wanted to watch on the living room TV. That’s when Felix and you had decided to start collecting board games. While everyone was watching TV, sometimes the members would wander out to the kitchen and get caught up in a board game.

Flinging yourself off of the couch, you hurried towards the kitchen. Unlocking your phone, you headed towards your notes app. After begging and begging for months, Felix finally caved while he was drunk. He gave you the exact measurements for his secret brownie recipe while giggling. Obviously, he wasn’t going to give you it for free. Between every ingredient, he pucker his lips, and waited for you with his eyes closed.

You’d kiss him and then he’d reveal an ingredient. The whole thing took less than five minutes and when he woke up the next morning, with a killer headache, he had no idea what he had done the previous night. Perhaps, this was finally your chance to wow him.

You quickly washed your hands and began gathering everything you needed. Not wanting to waste a single second, you measured out your ingredients perfectly and placed them into a large mixing bowl. Excitement swirled in your stomach. You couldn’t help, but smile to yourself.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home and reveal your plans. Of course, the brownies wouldn’t be done cooking by the time he arrived. If you were lucky, perhaps, the house would greet him with the warm scent of chocolate. You knew how much he loved his brownies and physical affection. It was the perfect way to make him feel better.

You grabbed a whisk out of a drawer and began whisking everything together. Everything was still out because you didn’t have time to put it away. You’d finish mixing the ingredients together, place them in the pan, toss them in the oven, and then you could clean up your mess.

So there was a bit of flour you spilled and some egg that you hadn’t cracked over the bowl properly with. Liquid egg white had formed a small puddle on the table. You had plenty of time to get everything set up before Felix came home, or so you thought.

After removing the whisk, you picked up the large mixing bowl full of batter, and began heading towards the stove. You already had a pan waiting for you. You had coated it with a cooking spray, so the brownies didn’t stick to it. Right as you were walking towards it, you forgot that you had spilled vegetable oil on the floor.

The moment your bare foot touched it, you slid. Caught off balance, you let out a yelp as your body fell back. Time seemed to freeze as you flew through the air. Your body was weightless until your back smacked into the tile floor. The bowl full of thick batter tilted. Due to the remaining oil in the batter, it slid forward.

Splat!

Sticky batter instantly covered your face. To make matters worse, the front door opened a few seconds afterwards. While you were still in shock and trying to claw the mixture out of your eyes and off your mouth, so you could breathe, Felix’s voice filled the air.

“Honey, I’m home!”

The batter was everywhere. Clumped together in your eyebrows, coating your eyelashes, your fingers were caked in it. You frantically wiped it away from your face, but it only made the mess bigger. It got in your hair, it went beneath your nails, you were almost near tears.

All you had wanted to do was cheer up your boyfriend and instead, you had made a bigger mess. You’d have to make more batter for more brownies and you weren’t even sure you had enough ingredients.

“Baby?” Felix’s voice called out again. “Where are you? Are you here?”

You froze as his footsteps headed towards the kitchen. “I’m in the kitchen. Don’t come out here! I’m working on…on a surprise?”

Felix chuckled, “you don’t sound so sure about that.”

You let out a sigh as his footsteps came closer. Soon he’d see you as a complete mess. You quickly forced yourself to sit up. Batter dripped down onto the front of your shirt. You let out a sting of curse words upset with yourself.

Loud laughter caused you to snap your head up. You shot Felix a glare, but all he could do was laugh harder. His eyes scrunched up into crescent moons. The sides of his lips upturned as his chest heaved with laughs. “W-what happened?” He finally got out after trying to compose himself.

“I was trying to make you brownies and then I fell. I’m going to clean it up, I swear.” You scooped up some of the batter that had fallen onto the floor and placed it back into the mixing bowl.

A bright white smile never left his face. He stared at you with endearing amusement. “You were going to make me brownies?”

“You said you were having a rough day. I wanted to make you feel better.” You scooped up more batter into the bowl. “I’m sorry I caused a bigger mess. Your brownies are going to be delayed because I need to clean up.”

He reached out a hand towards you.

“What are you doing?” You raised an eyebrow. Your hands were still covered in batter. You had gotten most of it off your face, but some was still smeared behind.

“Helping you up.”

“But I-”

He cut you off by bending down and grabbing your hand without complaint. He helped you get up and another smile appeared on his face. Without a sound, he reached out a finger towards your face and scooped up some of the remaining batter into his mouth. “Mmh, delicious.”

“Stop it! There’s raw egg in that.”

“And?”

“You could get salmonella.”

“Calm down sweet cheeks. It’s not the first time I’ve consumed raw brownie batter and it won’t be the last time.” He leaned forward and quickly pecked your lips with his own. Eyes full of mischief, his tongue appeared a few seconds later as he licked his lips. “You taste delicious. I’m sure they would have been wonderful brownies.”

You bit down on your lip. You weren’t going to tell him that you had his brownie recipe. You would keep that a secret for now.

“How about you go clean up in the bathroom? I’ll fix up your mess out here and when you get back, we can make a batch together?”

You nodded your head and let out a sigh. “I’m really sorry for this. I was hoping you’d be able to come home to the smell of warm brownies.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Without missing a beat, he scooped another fingerful of batter off your cheek, and shoved it into his mouth.

“Salmonella!” You cried out again worried that he’d get sick from the raw eggs.

All he could do was let out another laugh as you shook your head and walked away.

Read the next drabble: 🥢

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #fanfic writing #fanficwriter #skz imagines #skz fanfic #lee felix #felix x reader #stray kids felix #kpop #kpop fanfic #stay

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gunnerfc · 11 months ago

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🎄WOSO FICMAS: Dec. 22 - Ellie Carpenter 🎄

Ellie Carpenter x Reader (Lyon & Matildas) | WC: 562

Dec. 22 prompt - baking cookies

-> woso ficmas masterlist can be found here!

You weren’t sure whose idea it was for the team to have a “family” dinner where everyone brought something, but as you and Ellie were struggling to make Christmas cookies, you regretted signing up for the baked goods.

“Why is this so hard?!” your girlfriend moaned, frustrated with your failed attempts at making cookies.

You had tried three separate times before now and each time the cookies seemed to come out worse than the time before. You shared Ellie’s frustrations, not understanding why the cookies didn’t turn out right each time.

“Let's just try one more time before calling it quits,” you sighed, hoping this time would finally work in your favor.

Ellie jumped down from where she was sitting on the counter and moved to get some of the ingredients as you listed them off. Step by step the two of followed the recipe you found online, double-checking everything you did, determined to finally succeed.

With the cookies now in the oven, the two of you sat on the couch, exhausted from spending hours in the kitchen with no success.

“The next time someone has an idea like this, we are not making cookies, okay baby?” Ellie stressed, frustration still apparent in her voice.

“Agreed,” you responded, wanting the whole cookie-making experience to be over with so you could cuddle with your girlfriend while watching a random movie. A movie neither of you would really be paying attention to, more focused on making out.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for another seven minutes before the loud timer from the oven went off, alerting both of you that the cookies were done. You jumped up before Ellie could, not wanting the cookies to sit in the oven a second longer than the recipe called for. As you pulled them out and moved them to a cooling rack, Ellie joined you in the kitchen.

You knew you should probably wait for the cookies to cool down before trying to take a bite, but you needed to know if you were going to need to buy store-bought cookies and then lie to your teammates. Holding your breath you took a cookie and broke it in two pieces, handing the other to the defender. You both took a hesitant bite out of the cookie, scared it was going to taste bad.

Before you could process that the cookie was perfectly baked, Ellie yelled a loud “YES!” which told you that both of you had succeeded. Ellie leaned in for a quick celebratory kiss before she finished the rest of the cookie in her hand.

“We did it baby!” the blonde cheered, happy to finally be done with the baking experience.

“Fucking finally!” your tone matching Ellie’s, making a mental note to avoid baking as much as possible for any future team dinners.

With the cookies cooling in the kitchen, the two of you moved back to the living room of your apartment, finally ready to settle down for the night. A random movie played in the background, neither of you caring to pay attention, more focused on making out. The failings of earlier were long forgotten as your girlfriend’s lips moved against yours. You were glad to have spent the day with Ellie at home, away from your jobs even if it meant having to make four different batches of cookies.

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #olympique lyonnais feminin #ellie carpenter #ellie carpenter x reader

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love-takes-work · 1 year ago

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Teabag Cookies

Amethyst routinely eats used teabags. This is not good for humans, but if you wanna be like her, how about making your own edible teabags (well, as chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies)? Read on. . . .

See more SU food tutorials!

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon tea, any flavor you like

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

½ cup fine granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate pieces (to be melted)

Directions:

Use a stand mixer or hand mixer to whip the butter on medium speed until it is fluffy; it will take about 3 minutes. You can use a spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

In a little dish, stir together the tea and sugar. (Variation idea: If you want to make different flavors with different tea, you can half the ingredients and make separate batches.)

Whip the sugar mixture into the butter mixture, and once it's fully incorporated, add the vanilla extract.

Then add in the flour and salt. You will want to turn off the mixer, fold it in with the spatula a bit, and then use a low speed to complete mixing it in. Don't overmix; you want this to be evenly mixed together but no more.

Flatten the dough into a disc. Wrap it up in plastic wrap or a reusable refrigerator wrap, and chill it in the fridge for 1 hour or more.

Once the chilling is complete, prepare a clean floured surface and roll the dough out with a rolling pin to about half a centimeter/a quarter of an inch. Try to get it into a nice rectangle shape.

Using a nice sharp knife that makes clean cuts (or a pizza cutter), cut into nice little rectangles.

Use a spatula to lift the rectangles onto baking sheets lined with baking parchment. Space them with about a centimeter between them.

Then use the knife to chop two ends off each rectangle so they will be shaped like teabags.

Use a straw to punch a nice hole in each--not too close to the top. Make sure each hole goes all the way through.

Chill the cookies in the refrigerator for 15 to 20 minutes. This will help them retain their shape and not let the hole close up too quickly; they will start to harden as they cook in the oven before the butter in them melts if they start cold.

While waiting for the cookies to chill, you can preheat the oven to 340º F / 170º C. When ready to bake, use the middle rack only (do two baking batches). Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes and do not let them get brown--they should remain tan.

Cool on wire racks. Once the cookies are totally cooled, you can dip them. Use a double boiler to melt your chocolate pieces, stirring with a spatula to help combine lumps.

Dip the cookies halfway in to coat them with chocolate, and then put them back on their parchment to settle. You should chill the cookies again to help the chocolate solidify.

Now, for the strings (which really make the effect!), if you are already a tea-drinker you can save up tea strings and tags from other teabags you've used. This is especially cool if you are varying the flavors of the tea in the cookies and you can include matching tags. . . .

But if you don't drink tea, don't want to wait to collect tea strings, or just want to make your own, you can use dental floss for the strings and folded-over address labels as tags.

If you are serving these at a little tea party or at a gathering, you can always decorate these tags with names, symbols, stickers, or messages!

When you're ready to put it all together, just loop each string through the cookie holes and tie them.

It's pretty much required that you serve them on adorable dishware with dainty cups, right? They are perfect for dunking in tea!

Or you could just unceremoniously chomp them down, like a certain Gem we know!

See more SU food tutorials!

#steven universe #food #amethyst #onion friend #three gems and a baby #tiger philanthropist #myblog #gif

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kitashousewife · 2 years ago

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something sweet

an: heehee i am suuuuuch a baking girly and i LOVE sweets and my sweet samu so i was quite excited for this hehe

pairings: timeskip!osamu x fem!reader

warnings: food mentions, husband samu!!, fluff, pet names, suggestive ending

Osamu walks through the kitchen, flicking lights on as he goes. He got home only a few minutes ago, changing out of his work clothes as quick as he can to get started.

He leans back, a satisfying pop rippling through his spine as the pressure from another busy day at Onigiri Miya fades away. Osamu reaches a cupboard, searching through different odds and ends of battery containers, broken flashlights, and dull pencils until his tired fingers reach the small recipe book underneath it all.

A smile appears on his face as he thinks of every childhood memory involving this book. Many moments of flour being thrown across the countertops, laughing at the crudely drawn gingerbread versions of both boys their Ma would present them, and so many more.

Rough fingertips trace the worn pages, flipping through until he reached the tried and true gingerbread recipe, handwritten by his Ma.

"Hey baby, you're home early," you greet from around the corner, rubbing your tired eyes as enter the kitchen. Osamu's heart swells. He knows you've been working so hard lately. He was quite excited for tonight, and hoped that maybe he could ease the stress a little bit.

"I decided that the snow was a good reason to close up early," he gives you a kiss on the lips, grinning when he feels you about to laugh.

"Good day to be the owner, huh?" you laugh, and Osamu can't help but laugh as well.

Only now do you realize what he's set up in the kitchen. The marble island is covered in different ingredients, measuring cups, cookie cutters, and so many decorations. In his large hands rests a rather dainty book, which you've heard all about.

"Sweetheart, could ya grab me an apron?" Osamu asks, giving you the sweetest smile. You hum, a grin of your own growing when you realize his regular black apron is in the wash.

"Here you go," you hold back a giggle, but your very focused husband doesn't mind. He hums, grabbing the fabric without looking. He slips his head through the halter, grabbing the ties to fasten them expertly around his middle.

Standing in the kitchen is a 6-foot-tall Osamu, donned in a rather frilly apron, trimmed with lace and bright green and red colors. Before he notices, you snap a photo of him holding the recipe book with focus, his other hand on his hip in one of the most festive outfits you've ever seen.

"What's so fun-oh," he stops when he realizes what apron you brought him, and shakes his head when your laugh finally breaks loose. "Ha ha ha, we'll see who's laughing when a certain someone doesn't get to try any of the cookies."

You scoff. "How cruel," you tease, hopping up onto the counter next to the large spread. He fits himself in between your legs, placing both warm palms on either thigh. He leans in, and the smell of his shampoo lingers as he gets closer. Right before he reaches your lips, he stops.

"Could ya soften two sticks of butter, please?"

You smack his arm, the playful gesture earning a giggle from your husband. But you oblige, only because you would love a gingerbread cookie.

Especially made from such a professional.

"Whenever Ma does holiday bakin', she makes a double batch of everythin'," he explains, carefully measuring out the brown sugar before adding it to the bowl. "That way, she can put a couple of each cookie on some plates to give to our friends."

Their Ma is always the most giving. She spares no expense to treat her boys, and now you any chance she gets.

"Besides gingerbread, what do we have on the menu tonight?" You turn over your shoulder, setting the oven temperature while Osamu mixes, since he always forgets.

"Well, I was thinkin' we could do some gingerbread men, some sugar cookies, and maybe some brownies. We could plate em' up and deliver em' tonight, if ya don't mind."

"That sounds lovely. Where do you need me?"

His large, strong arm pulls you in, propping you back up on the counter in your original spot.

"My pretty wife just needs to sit here, cause I got somethin' in store for ya later." he winks and gets back to mixing.

That "somethin'" he mentioned earlier was not what you expected.

"You want me to decorate every cookie?"

"You know I'm not good at it doll! Please," he whines, transferring the last cookies to their cooling racks. He's not wrong. The gingerbread house the two of you made a few days ago isn't going to win any contests.

"Look, I even made things easy for ya," he bribes, pulling out little bowls of candy, frosting filled piping bags, and decorative plates to transport your goodies on. You sigh in defeat, finally getting started.

The two of you work in tandem. You, decorating each gingerbread man with the same sugary grin and buttons, and Osamu, taking the last treats out of the oven and moving the dishes into the sink to be cleaned later.

"Samu, would you put the gingerbread men on the plates with the brownies while I finish up these sugar cookies?"

He hums, placing them quickly to give you enough room for your final creations. And, knowing your husband like you do, you finished an extra sugar cookie just for him.

"Okay, I think we are good to go," you wrap the final plate before grabbing what you can.

"The car is heated up and ready, where shall we go first?"

For the next hour, the two of you drive house to house, leaving treats at each one. The two of you finish at Ma's, where Atsumu happens to be as well.

The four of you spend the majority of your time laughing. Ma, telling stories of the twins at Christmas, both boys laughing and poking fun at each other. Before the two of you leave, Ma gives you both a kiss on the cheek and the warmest hug, thanking you over and over for spoiling her so much.

"I think that's all of 'em right?" Osamu asks before starting the car, looking around the seats to check for any.

"Just these!" you smile, holding up a plate with two gingerbread men on it. "I made them for us as a treat when we finished."

Osamu unwraps the plate, heart growing three times the size when he gets a chance to admire the gingerbread one.

One, who assumes is you, has the icing version of your hair, eyes, and smile, wearing your favorite sweater. The gingerbread version of him is wearing an apron, baseball cap, and has his tongue sticking out.

"Why'd ya make me so goofy?" he fake whines, pointing at the face. You cackle.

"It wasn't to be mean! I was trying to replicate your concentrated face at work!"

He laughs, before leaning over the center console to cup your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek.

"Thanks for all yer help tonight. I know doin' this is silly, but it means a lot to me. I love you," He beams. You lean into his warm palm, grabbing his arm.

"It's not silly, it's sweet," you tap his arm. "And, I love you too."

He pulls you in for a sweet kiss, pulling away to give you a kiss on the nose. The two of you begin your drive home, laughing and listening to the soft hum of the Christmas music on the car radio.

Osamu reaches for his gingerbread self, humming as he takes a bite.

"Just like Ma's," he says between bites, proud of his efforts.

"Why did you eat gingerbread Samu? You didn't want mine?"

He smirks, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it as the two of you pull into the driveway.

"I'd rather eat the real you,"

"Samu!"

#heidswinterevent #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #osamu miya fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #osamu x you #miya osamu x you

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oh-hell-help-me · 1 year ago

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July 11: National Blueberry Muffins Day

Luigi was a known master sleeper, able to find a place to rest in many places and situations that others would consider difficult.

However, this status didn’t extend to immunity to loud sounds- including snoring.

Lying awake in the bed he shared with Bowser, Luigi couldn’t help but realize that he’ll need to invest in earplugs-

*Snooore*

-or simply buy them, since, well, he’s married to a king who literally spent three months spoiling him with food and an extended wardrobe-

*SNNNOOOOOREE*

-and maybe tell him to find a medical professional for possible sleep apnea-

*SSSSSNNNNNNOOOOOOORRRREEEE*

And Luigi gets up, throws the covers off, and makes his way out of the Royal Chambers, down the halls, and into the one place he can go to for some peace of mind:

The Kitchen.

Although, even as he stands in the middle of what he considered a pipe dream before coming into this world, Luigi felt himself draw a blank.

What now?

….Maybe something sweet?

Heading towards the fridge, he checks inside for inspiration- or even a snack-

Some sourdough discard, eggs, milk, various juices, cheese, half a double cherry, blueberries-

Wait.

In one move, he closes the fridge and turns around, heading to the pantry and opening it up.

Flour, sugar, salt….

Blueberry muffins!

Excited, he grabs all that he could, haphazardly placing ingredients on the counter- one thought jiving in his brain: muffins, muffins, muFFINS, MUFFINS-

And he gets right into making them.

Admittedly, his ability to remember what he did was… hazy, especially when he knew he relied on muscle memory rather than a set recipe.

(It was probably a sign that he was falling asleep on his feet, now that he thinks about it.)

In flashes, he knew that the batter looked alright, and that he used appropriate pans, but the temperature and time he used was questionable.

(By the time he put them in the oven, he does recall feeling heavy- in the way sleepiness always makes him feel.)

He stood there, time being a blur before the smell of baked blueberries wafted out and the sound of the timer’s ring shocked him awake.

(The kitchen started to slowly brighten with the rising morning sun, but that didn’t matter to its only occupant.)

Unaware of his increasingly sluggish movements, Luigi sat the pans on the counter without much fanfare. Yawning, he turns around, decides to call it a day, stumbles a path to where he thinks the bedroom is, and climbs up-

And then he was out like a light.

…

Later, a family of Koopas followed their noses to the kitchen, finding slightly warm batches of blueberry muffins-

And a sleeping Luigi, quietly snoring on top of the fridge.

#bowuigi #NATIONAL HOLIDAY

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sasquapossum · 2 years ago

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Awesome Chowder Recipe

Here’s a recipe for what I rather immodestly call my Awesome Chicken Corn Chowder. It’s not quick, either in hands-on time or total time, but it’s so good. Amounts are approximate, because this is just not the kind of recipe where precision matters all that much.

First, make the stock. I like to do this by buying a rotisserie chicken at the store, carving it up normally for one meal, then using the rest to make stock. First, remove all the usable meat - yield is usually a couple of cups’ worth for us - and save it for later. Then toss the rest in a Dutch oven, cover with salted water, and let it simmer for a couple of hours. I like to add a lot of thyme and a little marjoram too. Or you can skip this part and buy stock at the store ... but then you won’t have the meat as well. You’re on your own for that part.

For the soup itself, the first part is to peel, cube, and boil four large(ish) potatoes just like you would for mashed, but using the stock. You might need a little extra water to cover, and that’s OK but it should be mostly stock. While that’s happening - about twenty minutes - you can prepare the rest.

Cut up about half a pound of bacon and fry it up. The smokier the better. Kayem makes a great double-smoked bacon that’s too strong for most uses but perfect for this.

While you’re cooking the bacon, cut up a large sweet (e.g. Vidalia) onion, then take out the bacon and cook the onion in the fat. It’s a chowder. More fat is good.

While you’re cooking the onions (I love how this all fits together), cut up the chicken you saved earlier.

By this time the spuds should be done. Drain the water into a bowl - not the sink!- because you’ll be using it in a moment. Save half the spuds whole (well cubed), then mash the rest. This is the essential step, thickening up the final result to just the right chowder-y consistency. Now put everything in your Dutch oven.

Whole spud cubes

Mashed spuds

Bacon

Onion

Chicken

One can of creamed corn

One cup (or more) of thawed frozen corn

My final ingredient is a generous amount of Trader Joe’s umami powder - mostly various kinds of dried mushroom, but also a bunch of other spices so I don’t have to add those separately. I sprinkle on enough to cover the whole surface, maybe a couple of tablespoons. Hard to go wrong, really.

Next, let it simmer for a couple of hours. Most people would do this on the stove top, but I like to toss the whole thing in the oven for better temperature control. Just give it a stir once in a while. When time’s up, finish by adding heavy cream until the color and taste suit your preference - usually about a cup or so for me.

As I said, it’s not quick, but at the end you’ll have a big batch of super rich, hearty soup. All you need to go with that is a good robust bread - a local bakery makes anadama which is perfect for this - and that’s a meal to remember.

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itsaash · 1 year ago

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Pumpkin Spice

@noots-fic-fests thank you for including this prompt so I can take something that happened in my life and turn it into something decidedly better, ha. Enjoy some fluffy, domestic Jily! And I believe sweater weather Harry was born in March? So he'd be 8 months old the next October

Lily had just wanted to make something nice. Sure, sure, the days are long but the years are short. But when you’re in the thick of having a 8 month old people could just fuck right off with that advice. Because the never ending loop of naptime, nursing, introducing solid food, play time, diaper change, and repeat made some days interminably long. And James was an amazing partner and an even better dad, but the season had started up again, and Lily was not in the groove of solo parenting. She was skidding on one wheel on the edge of the groove threatening to fall over at any moment.

When she was nursing Harry, cuddling his warm body close, she’d sometimes scroll on her phone and cooking videos were some of her favourites. She’d be lulled by the perfectly aesthetic backdrops and clean kitchens. The process of turning a group of ingredients into something new and amazing. Her feed knew her well and alternated between plans and ideas for baby food, and delicious looking snacks and drinks. Being October, pumpkin everything saturated the videos. Bread, muffins, cookies, stew, coffees, all featuring pumpkin. She didn’t have much time or energy for more time in the kitchen after the essentials of baby food and basic meals. But maybe a pumpkin spice syrup was achievable?

So after forgetting to get canned pumpkin at the next two grocery store runs, Lily finally remembered and was excited to make something for herself. Harry went down for his afternoon nap, and after stepping carefully to sneak out of his room she went into the kitchen to make the syrup. The can opener, pumpkin, vanilla, and spices were lined up on the counter, and she measured the sugar into the water for a double batch. She stirred the sugar in with her little purple whisk and watched it dissolve. She checked the recipe again, ok, it needed to reduce for a while. She turned down the heat and went to the bathroom.

Then went to move the laundry into the dryer. Shit, that was a pile of clean laundry. The clothes got put away, and she tracked down the new box of trash bags for the garbage in the laundry room that she had emptied the lint trap into. May as well take out the other bathroom garbages while she was at it. Weird, this bathroom smelled bad. She looked around, had a diaper fallen behind the trash can or something? There wasn’t an obvious culprit so Lily finished emptying the bins and brought them all downstairs to the main garbage in the kitchen.

The kitchen was a haze of smoke.

“What in the ever loving pumpkin fuck of goddamn stupid pumpkin fucking shit…”

A string of incomprehensible curses continued as Lily dropped the trash bags and raced to the stove to turn off the burner. The water had long since evaporated and the sugar was beyond burned with her cute little whisk melted sadly to the side of the smoking pot. The smell hit her senses like a freight train as she put on an oven mitt and carried the pot outside and left it on the porch, slamming the door just a bit on the way back in. She turned the hood fan all the way up and went around opening every window she could get her hands on. Thank god it wasn’t too cold outside yet.

Lily hardly knew if she should laugh or cry. It smelled truly awful. How had she not realized that smell was a burning smell? How could she have forgotten this one thing she had wanted to do for herself so quickly? And how had the stupid fucking smoke detector not gone off?? Although now in hindsight, with no major harm done, and the smoke already dissipating, she supposed she was glad to not have a baby awoken from a nap by screeching added to this situation. She walked away from the blaring sound of the hood fan and sunk to the floor under an open window on the other side of the house. Which is where she was when James got home.

“Hey Lils love! I’m home — oh shit wow you’re right there! You scared me,” James said. He came in the door and was startled when he turned to take his shoes off and saw Lily sitting there. He set down his bag and walked over to her and slid his back down the wall. “Why are we sitting on the floor?” he asked softly, nudging her with his shoulder.

Lily waved her hand vaguely at the house, cheek resting on her bent up knees. “I ruined our house with this awful fucking smell. Can’t you smell it?”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t seem to be panicking, so I figured it’s not an emergency.” He scooched even closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and Lily turned to tuck her face into the warmth of his shoulder. “Want to tell me what happened? You ok?”

Lily wasn’t crying, but her voice was thick and she was just so tired.

“I just wanted to make pumpkin spice syrup. But then I got distracted and immediately forgot about it and it’s such a stupid thing to have done and now it smells so bad.” Her breath hitched at the end and she heaved a breath in. “And my little whisk and the pot are totally ruined.”

James just tightened his grip on her shoulders and hugged her close, let her breathe and be still and cry.

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” he said, finally.

“Fuck off, yes it does.”

“Ok, yeah it does.” He took in a theatrical sniff and winced. “That’s what burned sugar smells like? It’s nuclear level.”

“It was even worse 20 minutes ago,” Lily muttered.

“Want to go cuddle on the furthest couch from the kitchen until Harry wakes up?”

Lily laughed but nodded, and then moved to the couch in the theater room, which was quite separate from the rest of the house and had a baby monitor in it. James laid on the couch and Lily cuddled into his side, making herself small. James ran his fingers through her hair over and over.

“You know it’s ok, right Lils? You’re fine, Harry’s fine, the house is fine. It’s ok.”

Lily hummed noncommittally.

“Ok, but can you tell Loops about it? So that I can tell Sirius how bad sugar can smell? Because, honestly, who would’ve thought.”

James smiled to himself when Lily let out a real laugh and reached for her phone. She texted him, a smile quirking on her face.

my house smells like sugar. And not the good kind like in cookies. Like the awful burned kind and it’s truly terrible.

I also need to test my smoke alarms.

These two things may be related.

Not one minute later her phone was ringing. James laughed and kept running his fingers through her hair as she talked to Remus. She told him the story, after reassuring him they were all fine, and her voice lost some of its tightness as they joked over the lengths they’d go to for a PSL and Remus threatening to come smell it for himself while the smell was “fresh”. She, laughing, said fuck off and good bye, hung up and turned to cuddle into James chest even closer. He smelled like the soap from the rink and like himself and when she breathed in deeply she didn’t smell the sugar at all.

“I’m sorry I made our house smell terrible.”

“I literally don’t care, Lils. I’m just sorry it didn’t work out how you wanted it to.”

She let his breathing soothe her as his chest rose up and down under her cheek.

“You can close your eyes if you want, flower. I’ll get Harry when he wakes up and I’ll go out with him and get a grocery store special for dinner.” Lily knew that meant a rotisserie chicken, a truly bizarre combination of the pre-made side dishes, and probably something sweet from the freezer aisle. But it was always perfect. She hugged him tighter and nodded. And she drifted off.

Lily woke later to the sounds of James and Harry coming into the house. James was keeping up a running conversation with Harry, talking to his son like he was much older than his 8 months. Lily stretched under the blanket that James must have laid over her, and the smell hit her nose. She cringed, but tried not to dwell and went to see her boys.

“Mommy’s awake, Harry, look!” Harry babbled happily and Lily took him from James, kissing all over his face.

“Did you two go on an adventure?” she said to Harry in an animated voice.

“We sure did,” James replied, picking up bags and heading to the kitchen. “To the wilds of Target. And we totally scored.”

Lily watched as he pulled groceries from the reusable bags like a magician pulling a never ending scarf from a sleeve. First came the expected rotisserie chicken, a container of spinach and artichoke dip, two options of chips, a pre-made spinach salad, and a few other grocery essentials.

“Wow, good choices, Harry!” Lily cooed. “I’ll be breaking into that dip immediately. Hopefully the terrible smell doesn’t ruin all this good food Daddy got us.”

“The power of spinach and artichoke dip can overcome anything,” James reassured her, and moved to take Harry from her. “Can you open up that bag, Lils?” he asked, pointing to one. Lily raised an eyebrow, but went to the bag and looked in. She paused for a long moment before reaching in and pulling out a wicker basket filled with all sorts of treasures.

“James! What is this?!” she exclaimed as she freed the basket from the bag.

“It’s a boo box!” James said happily. “You’ve been doing such a good job taking care of Harry when I’ve been on roadies, babe. And I love you so much, you do so much for us, so Harry and I wanted to do a little something for you.” He came over and leaned in to press a soft kiss below her ear and Harry pulled her hair happily.

“Thank you so much,” Lily said thickly.

“You're welcome,” James said easily. He turned and settled Harry in his high chair, and got some blueberries and a mini cucumber from one of the bags and washed them to pass to Harry for him to gum.

Lily looked through the basket. There was pumpkin spice syrup, of course there was. She huffed a laugh but was thankful for the easy version of the fall treat. Next she touched the new whisk, red this time, and sent James a small smile still tinged with sadness. There were also smaller bottles of brown sugar cinnamon, apple, and chai syrups. She set those aside and found three of the tubes that have all the ingredients you need for different soups, a foot mask, a lip mask, and finally underneath all of that she pulled out a crew neck sweater. It felt creamy and soft in her hands, with cute fall themed charms all over it. She hugged it to her chest and looked up at James. “James, baby. This is so nice.” James stepped close and took her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug from behind, his chin hooked on top of her head. He reached around her to point at some of the treasures.

“Lots of syrups to try is fun, right? I’m so going to try that apple one in something. And look how funny that lip mask is. Harry laughed so cutely when I held it over my mouth and pretended to talk with it. Let’s see the sweater on, isn’t it so soft?” he rambled.

Lily smiled with her eyes prickling as she pulled the sweater over her head. It was a bit oversized, the sleeves hung perfectly so she could scoop the cuff into her hands and feel the softness. James hugged her again, trailing his hands under the sweater to rub her back and feel the softness of the inside of the sweater.

“I love it James, thank you.”

“Love you, Lilyflower,” James said and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. Lily turned and pressed a kiss to Harry’s head, thanking him too. He burbled happily back at her with purple fingers and mouth. James pulled out his phone to take a picture when the doorbell rang. He set his phone down on the counter.

“I’ll get it! But I’m so getting a picture of you in that sweater with Harry when I’m back.” He pointed finger guns at her as he walked a few steps backwards towards the front door.

Lily laughed and watched James’ back as he turned around and walked down the hall to open the front door. Her thoughtful, giving husband. The smell of burnt sugar still undeniably hung in the air, but it was fading. Her guilt was fading too, replaced with love for her family.

“Hey! Oh wow no way,” she heard James say from the door.

“Who is it?” she called as she started to put away the soups and syrups into the pantry.

James didn’t answer and she walked back to the side of the kitchen from where she could see the door.

“James? Oh!”

He surprised her, he was right there when she turned the corner, a big box in his hands.

“No one was at the door when I opened it. They must’ve just delivered the box and left.”

“What is it?” Lily asked.

James placed the soft cardboard box on the counter and opened the lid, revealing 6 of the most beautiful cookies Lily had ever seen. They were huge, fluffy and delicious looking. A chocolate chunk on, one that must be red velvet, one that looked like it might be peanut butter, and more that she could only guess at the flavours, but couldn’t wait to taste them and find out.

“Oh my god. They’re beautiful. Who are they from? Did you order these too?”

“Nope, not me, oh here’s the card,” James replied. “Awww, they’re from Loops, see.” He passed the card to Lily.

To Lily

I hope these drown out the burned smell!! Congrats getting through the day without a kitchen fire!

Lily laughed. “That little shit.”

“I’m surprised he went with cookies and not some sort of fire extinguishing blanket,” James laughed.

“Don’t suggest it, or at least 2 will be at our door as fast as he can get them shipped here.”

“Actually, I think that’s kind of genius? I’m going to order one. I’ll send them one too.” He broke off a piece of the chocolate chip cookie and popped it into his mouth as he opened up his phone. “No harm in being prepared.”

Lily could only nod along with that logic, and she reached out and broke an orange cookie apart, and yes, as the taste of pumpkin spice cookie filled her senses, the burned smell finally faded away.

#jily #baby harry #pumpkin spice #cw food #fic-o-ween 2023 #James/Lily #domestic fluff #yes #this is based off me smoking out my kitchen #it smelled bad for days #i did not however get a boo box

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