#and i just scooped it out the pan and put it in the oven

[something-something-peaceful]

Oh boy time for a recipe that’ll probably be thrown into the forgotten depths

Chocolate lemon cupcakes

Chocolate cupcakes

* 1 cup (130g) all-purpose flour

* 1 cup (207g) sugar

* 6 tbsp (43g) unsweetened cocoa powder

* 1 tsp baking soda

* 1/2 tsp salt

* 1 large egg

* 1/2 cup (120ml) buttermilk

* 1/2 cup (120ml) vegetable oil (I used a majority of olive oil and used about 1/4 cup vegetable oil, I didn’t specify any better because fuck you and I don’t wanna)

* 1 tsp vanilla extract

* 1cup (120ml) hot coffee

Lemon Curd:

* 4 large eggs

* 1 cup granulated sugar

* 1/2 cup lemon juice fresh squeezed, from one large lemon

* 1 Tbsp lemon zest from one large lemon

* 6 Tbsp unsalted butter cubed

Frosting

* 1 cup (240 ml) heavy cream, cold

* 2 tablespoons (16 g) powdered sugar

* 1 teaspoon (3 g) cornstarch

* 1 teaspoon (2.5 ml) vanilla extract

For the cupcakes

1. Preheat oven to 300°F (148°C) and prepare a cupcake pan with liners.


2. Add the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt to a large mixing bowl and combine. Set aside.

3. Add the egg, milk, vegetable oil and vanilla extract to another medium sized bowl and whisk together to combine.

4. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix until well combined.

5. Add the water to the batter and mix until well combined. The batter will be very thin.

6. Fill the cupcake liners about half way and bake for 18-23 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out with a few moist crumbs. (I have a shitty oven so I added ten more minutes to the bake time after I checked if it was fully cooked, just start off with 5 minute increments, if you want to be more cautious) 


7. Remove the cupcakes from oven and allow to cool for 2 minutes, then remove to a cooling rack to finish cooling.

Lemon Curd:

* Place eggs and sugar into a small pot, whisk to combine. Add lemon juice, zest, and butter. Cook over medium-low heat whisking constantly until mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon.


* Transfer to a glass bowl and lay plastic wrap directly on the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Chill for 1 hours to almost set. 


Frosting

1. Chill the Bowl and Whisk: Begin by chilling your mixing bowl and whisk (or whisk attachment) in the freezer for at least 15 minutes. This helps the cream whip up faster and increases volume.

2. Combine Dry Ingredients: Mix powdered sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl. This ensures even distribution of the cornstarch in the whipped cream.

3. Whip the Cream: Pour the cold heavy cream into the chilled bowl. Using an electric mixer, start whipping the cream at a low speed, gradually increasing to medium-high as it thickens.

4. Add Sugar and Cornstarch: Once the cream starts forming soft peaks, gradually add the sugar and cornstarch mixture, continuing to whip.

5. Add Vanilla Extract: As the mixture thickens to stiff peaks, add the vanilla extract and continue to whip until well incorporated and the cream holds stiff peaks. (Probably make the frosting after the cupcakes have fully set)

Assembly

1. Remove the core of the cupcakes with a knife or a cupcake corer, you need a hole

2. Put almost solid curd in the center of the cupcakes, preferably with a piping tip.

3. Let curd set fully in the cupcakes for 1 hour more

4. Pipe on frosting, and serve

**note that this is posted on the same day is was baked, I can’t say how well the whipped cream frosting will hold up.

**a large cookie scoop helps with filling the cupcake liners. I used 2 scoops of the largest one I had

**normally you’re supposed to fluff your flour, but I was worried it would be too liquidy so I just scooped the flour from the container, like a heathen.

** I know I should half the recipe for the lemon curd, because there was a little left and it was overflowing out of the cupcakes a little, but it could be the fact the cupcake holes weren’t big enough. It wasn’t that much plus, you could mix the cake that’s left over from the removal of the middles with it, so idk.

I suppose I should put a useless story like all other blogs.

It was my possible step brother’s birthday and there was a mix up with the 2 cakes. Instead of chocolate raspberry and vanilla lemon cake, the bakery mixed up the flavors and reversed it. And me being weird I kinda liked it. So here’s a recipe that basically makes that cake. Why are these so long? Like that story was simple and easy. You could easily just say “my mom made this a lot when I was a kid.” Like I’m pretty good at writing a whole essay about something that doesn’t matter, evidence and an explanation, everything you could need. Would anyone even read this? It’s a recipe on tumblr, if I posted this on Pinterest maybe but even then most people I know don’t like citrus and chocolate. I offered some cupcakes to my grandma but I actively left out that the custard is lemon flavored, because I knew she’d make a virtual face at it. I want to show my creations but I can’t do that when no one is willing to try it. My mom was easy to convince because sugar. This is long because that’s the whole joke, for this whole piece about a simple story to be far too long when people just want the recipe. Would this bit even work? It’s all at the end, not at the beginning like every other blog does but I understand how frustrating that shit is. And like since I’m dragging it out it’ll only be more of a nuisance to the people wanting to see the recipe. Should I just half the lemon curd recipe? Do people even read the notes about the recipe? I sure don’t also. I also should’ve put proportions sizes but I don’t wanna put effort in remembering or counting. 8+6+1…. Uhhhh 15 cupcakes that I made. How likely is it that government secrets are put in these long bullshit paragraphs? I hope I get some criticism on this recipe there was a fair amount of research and rewriting. I forgot the name for cupcake liners btw, I had to ask my mom what they were called so that was a little awkward because I was making some more notes on the recipe while doing so. I wonder how I’m going to transport those cupcakes, I mean my grandma’s house isn’t that far of a walk but also it’s kinda hot and I don’t have any boxes also it’s night. Is this paragraph long enough that the joke gets hammered in? I don’t think it’s long enough but I could be wrong, I suppose I should write some more nonsense to add to the word count. Anbdndjdjelskxnjskwjsjzjksnsbsjkwksbhsjsksnsbsjkwndnzjsknwnsjsksks. Space. Ajkdndjoelndkkpl high ndkskskskndjjdksksnnsjsk. I got my cats some new toys recently, they’re touch activated and they make noises and move around. Of course I think they primarily like them because of the cat nip. I think I’m going to stop writing this, I’m getting bored and I don’t have much to say rn.………………………………………………………………………………………… I hope I don’t explode after this…………………………………….. my phone is spacing out this out weirdly, idk what that’s about…………………………………………………………………..do you think aliens are real?………………………………………are ghosts real?……………………………………………………………………. How do food bloggers end these anyways? I’ve never read the paragraphs but they have to at some point, right? ……………………………………………………………………..I think half the reason why food bloggers have such long paragraphs is because we’re encouraged to make a whole essay whenever we’re writing something. I know I am…………………………I’m probably wrong……………………. It probably forces more ads onto the screen at once………………….aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…………… I know it doesn’t matter but I wonder how the tumblr algorithm works, like do they prefer to show longer or shorter posts? Of course it could be our decreasing attention spans. I like spam, it’s not that bad, of course I’m probably a couple of sprinkles of salt away from death……………..I’m tired……………………… I think it’s time to stop typing, I think my space button is starting to die.

[extremely-lost-girl]

Recent observations have shown bakers are a spectrum between

'EVERY THING MUST BE EXACTLY ACORDING TO THE RECIPE'

And

So if I mix these ingredients together it might turn out like a cake or a wierd omelette either way I'm going to mess with it until it looks edible.

The between being following the recipe with a degree of flexibility

[luveline]

as a kid i was so scared of my parents splitting up, what if roan learns someone in her class’ parents are divorcing and it sends her spiralling thinking she’d never see reader again?

thank you jade 💛

thank you for requesting lovely ♡ eddie and roan (almost) stepmom!reader, 2k

"Yeah, I got the expensive kind," you're saying, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder, a knife held loosely in your hand. "I don't wanna make it wrong." 

Roan can vaguely hear the rumble of her Uncle's voice on the other side giving reassurances. 

You scrape the blade of the knife against the cutting board. "I know. I know, Wayne, I swear, just… I hardly ever make him dinner and this is our last anniversary before we get married, and– I know. Sorry, that's– I know, you don't mind, it's just–" 

Roan attaches herself to your hip like an octopus, looking up at you as you look down. You smile at her, putting your knife flat to stroke her hair. 

"She's right here," you say, "she's helping me… okay. Thanks, Wayne, you're the best. See you tomorrow. Alright, I will. Bye." 

You put your hand behind Roan's shoulder and walk her with you to the phone. As soon as you've hung it back on the hook, you scoop her up to hold against your chest, even if she's getting longer and longer every day. "Hey, babe. Uncle Wayne says he loves you and he missed you today. He wants to make you dinner tomorrow, so we'll find your nice blue dress tonight and put it in the wash." 

Roan flops her face against your neck. "I love him too." 

"He knows." You press your cheek to hers briefly. "Okay, you wanna sit on the top with me and I'll finish making today's dinner?" 

Roan's happy to sit on the counter and swing her legs as you finish making the pot pie. It's one of Eddie's favourites because his mom used to make it a couple of times a month, and so it's one of Roan's favourites, her lips quirked with excitement as you chop onions, carrots and celery into small pieces for the frying pan. 

"I love the carrots," she says. 

"Yeah?" You uncap the cooking oil to pour a generous splash into the pan. "Want me to put extra in? I don't mind." 

Roan nods enthusiastically. "Yes!" 

She's happy watching you cook at first, but she gets quieter as you finish up. By the time the pie is in the oven she's picking at her little nails, shards of polish in her lap like powdered sugar. 

"You okay?" you ask, wiping your hands clean. She shrugs. You shrug back. "What's that mean?" 

"I'm thinking." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Roan pokes her toes into your thigh. 

"Well, daddy's home soon, but you know you can tell me." 

"Mm," she hums, holding out her hand. You don't take it, folding her into your arms for a hug instead. 

It would usually make her feel better, but Roan feels ten times worse as you soften your tone to a less cheerful murmur, "Got another tummy ache?" 

"Not that." 

"What is it?" you ask. 

She hides her face in your shoulder, pert nose to your soft shirt. 

"You don't have to tell me," you whisper. "Sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you, I promise, I just love you." You turn saccharine again, patting her back as you dote excitedly into the top of her head. "Love you love you love you!" You punctuate with a kiss, and Roan starts crying. 

—

Eddie's startled but not too worried to get home to the sound of Roan crying. She certainly cries less and less now that she's getting older, but children cry so often that he doesn't think it's worth panicking over. 

He can hear you already on the case as he peels out of his sweaty coat and boots. "That's not going to happen," you comfort, voice bouncing off of kitchen tile, the hum of the oven like a baseboard. "It's hard to believe me, but it won't. Me and daddy are super happy." 

His eyebrows rise of their own accord. "Hello?" he asks, moving down the hallway and into your bright kitchen. 

Roan sits in the shadow of a corner cabinet, hunched over her knees with her face held up by defeated hands, tears wetting her rosy cheeks. You stand in front of her with your hand on shoulder, bent to her eye-level, glancing sideways at him momentarily before you say, "Look, dad's home. He's gonna say the exact same thing as me, I swear. Should we ask him?" 

Eddie takes the mantle by your side, quick to rub the tears from Roan's cheek with his pinky. His hands aren't clean enough for anything more. "What's wrong?" he asks. 

"Nothing," Roan says, her voice strangled by a big sob. 

"Babe!" Eddie laughs, half-hearted. "I can see something's super wrong. I might be a dumb boy, but I know when my girl's upset, don't I?" 

"You're not a dumb boy," Roan says. 

"Oh. Thank you, Ro." 

"You're a dumb man." 

"Very funny." He combs unruly coils of dark hair behind her ear, finger following down the curve to her shoulder. "Quick, tell me what's wrong. Just tell me. Rip it off like a bandaid." 

"It's silly," Roan murmurs. 

"Says who?" 

"Says me." 

"Oh," Eddie says, giving you a look to make sure it's alright before he monopolises her attention. You raise your hands with a small smile, as if to say, Please. "Come here, me. I'm gonna have to squeeze this out of you, huh?"

He leans back, shifting her weight against his hip, arm stretched over the breadth of her back. He's not smug, but it does bring a satisfaction to see how swiftly she calms down once he's holding her. It's a familiar picture, Eddie with his lips to her forehead, a crease between his brow just like Uncle Wayne's as he rubs her back, and Roan, a mirror image of her father, palpable relief in her hands as they tangle in his hair. Less familiar but getting there is you at their side, your cheek on Eddie's shoulder and your hand on his elbow.

"What's it gonna take to let me in on the secret?" he asks. He's making a spoiled child accidentally, always bribing and bartering for good behaviour. 

"Nothing…" Her mumbling tickles his cheek as she shifts around. "I'm worry‐ing," —her voice skips over the word, like a hiccup— "about something because of Stacy." 

"Oh yeah? What did Stacy do?" 

"She said her mom, um, her mom said she's getting a divorce. That Stacy won't see her dad again, and it'll just be her and her mom." 

Eddie doesn't judge people much. He can't imagine caring about other people's divorces when Roan was born from a fling and pretty much left on his doorstep —circumstances don't determine your kid's happiness alone. He does worry for Stacy, and his poor empathetic little girl. 

"That's terrible, bubby," Eddie placates, patting her back. 

"It's– well, it's– I'm…" Roan huffs. 

"Whatever you tell me is fine, promise. No grounding, no telling off."

"I know, daddy, it's just hard to say." 

Eddie feels himself physically melt. 

He leans back against the kitchen counter and shifts her against his stomach. His arms burn with the effort of keeping her secured to him, and he's not loving her sad tone —the quicker he finds out what's wrong, the better. He peeks over her head at you for hints. 

You're uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other like your feet hurt. 

"What?" he asks you. 

You clear your throat. "I think she's worried about me. If something happened between us, she's worried she won't see me again." 

Eddie would like to think after two years of loving his daughter, watching her grow, and all together being a cherished and irreplaceable part of her life and her support system, that you'd find it impossible to leave her. Even if you left Eddie, you wouldn't leave Ro. He knows that. But only two years… he knows you'd love Roan even if he screws things up, but he can't promise her that things would be the same, because they wouldn't be. 

That's not what she's asking, though.

"What, you think you won't see Y/N anymore?' Eddie murmurs, rubbing her back. 

"She's not my full mom," Roan whispers. 

Eddie reaches past Roan to squeeze your elbow. "You know, that doesn't matter, honey. And after the wedding–" 

"You call me mom for a reason, right?" you cut him off. 

Roan lifts her head from Eddie's. "Yeah." 

"Okay, so, say me and dad get married, and then by some impossibility we realise we can't stay married, will you love me less?" 

"No," Roan says with a pout. 

"I wouldn't love you any less, either. I didn't know I could love someone this much 'til I met you," you say, voice scratchy like you're talking past gravel. "So things would change, but not how much I love you. I'd still see you." 

You sound tentative. Eddie's way less hesitant. "Of course you'd still see each other. Babe, if me and mom break up it'll be because I did something stupid, so you'd see her every time I tried to apologise." He grins at you. "How long do you think it would take you to forgive me?" 

"Depends on what you did." You smile fondly. "Probably not long, Munson." 

"I have a weird feeling we're gonna last." 

Roan sniffles. "I just don't want mom to move away," she says. 

You and Eddie have already spoken about this. Serious but not sombre, on your backs in bed. You're not just marrying me, Eddie'd said, terrified of how much he wanted you to say certain things, and how you might not say them at all. This isn't just a promise to me. I know how much I'm asking from you, it's not a small thing. I won't blame you if you can't say yes, but this is… she's my world. 

I already said yes. And I knew what I was saying yes to, you'd replied, holding your hand up above you, the two of you staring in wonder at the ring on your marriage finger. I promise, Eds. I won't let either of you down. 

"Where do you think I'm going, princess? Me and dad are so happy. I'm staying right here stuck to his hip for the rest of time, but only if you're gonna stick to mine." You duck your head to touch your noses together briefly. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise you." He swears you're twisting your engagement ring, but he can't quite see. "Can I have her?" you ask. 

"Sure. My noodle arms are about to snap anyway." 

"Noodle arms," you repeat, stealing Ro from him smoothly. "Yeah, right." 

He flexes appreciatively at your comment. 

Roan snuggles up to your neck, little face in the curve of it, her arms curling around you. You hold her tight and bend back under her weight, an arm against her thighs and another behind the small of her back, hand twisted up to brush her curls. 

"Love you," you say softly. You're smiling like you've got everything you ever wanted. "Maybe if me and daddy break up I can just take you with me." 

"Yeah!" Roan says with a gasp. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Whatever, girls. Neither of you can cook, you know that? Maybe tonight you guys can practise your new life together by not eating the dinner I'm gonna cook." Time to lighten the mood, lest Roan spend a special night lethargic. 

You beam at him. "I already made dinner. Happy anniversary, handsome." 

You exchanged gifts and kisses already that morning before work, but Eddie's happy to accept another quick kiss over Ro's shoulder. He dots one on his daughter's cheek to keep things fair. 

"Lucky us, huh?" he says to Ro. 

He's not strictly talking about dinner, and it's cheesy, but you light up like a Christmas tree. "Lucky me." 

[xoxochb]

HAPPY 800!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU SICKLESMOOCBITYKINS!! Im here to request.. Percy Jackson X reader with the 🧁 emoji! like a cute little baking fic maybe a little make out moment🤫 well that’s really it! as always thank you if you do make this! And once again CONGRATULATIONS!! YOU DESERVE THIS MILESTONE 🧸💞

⋆·˚ ༘ * blue cupcakes

warnings: make out but that’s it pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader a/n: thank you SO much angel I’m literally in love with you

event list

“put it down”

your angry glare makes percy place down the tiny bottle of blue food dye with a pout

“thank you”

you smile in victory and continue scooping the batter from the mixing bowl, and pouring it in the cupcake wrappers. percy doesn’t want to settle for boring vanilla cupcakes— they need to be blue. when he thinks you aren’t looking he picks the bottle back up and squeezes two drops of blue food dye into the batter. you notice and gasp

“perseus!”

he places the bottle back down. “please! just a few blue cupcakes?”

“I don’t have a choice anymore” you dramatically throw your hands up and then grab a spoon the mix the coloring into the batter. percy squeezes two more drops into the bowl. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“you need more or they’ll come out green”

you roll your eyes and groan, nonetheless continuing to mix. when you finish you pour the rest of the batter into the remaining cupcake wrappers

“okay now we need to put these in the oven. open it up for me”

“yes ma’am” percy walks to the oven and opens the door, allowing you to slide the pan in smoothly then you take off your cooking mittens and throw them on the counter

“how long do these go in here for?”

“seventeen minutes”

percy puts the oven timer to 00:17 and turns it on, letting the cupcakes bake before trapping you between his arms against the counter. you cross your arms and look up at him

“what do we do now?”

you purse your lips. “wait. we still have to clean up too”

percy doesn’t listen to a word you say. you know this because his gaze is stuck on your lips. and unsurprisingly he connects his own lips with yours and moves his arms around your waist to pull you closer. and on what planet would you not want this? in what universe? none of them. absolutely none. he put you in a complete lovestruck bliss, wrapping your arms around his neck you felt insanely happy. as much as you seemed annoyed with his silly antics and relentless teasing— you weren’t. your knees felt as if they might give out underneath you at any moment. no matter how many times he kissed you it was always the same as the first, like this was the last time he would be able to; needy, affectionate

when percy’s hands find their way under your shirt you gasp at the cold sensation and he pulls away with a laugh and settles for planting kisses to your neck

“percy” you manage breathe out “we- why-”

you can’t physically or mentally put together a full sentence and decide on waiting until he pulls himself off of you. or you do it first

you place your hands on his chest to refrain him. “how about we save this for later? we have to clean first”

“or” kiss to your neck “we clean later” he mutters in a low voice making you shiver. stupid percy and the stupid effect he has over you. his fingers wrap around your belt loops, pulling your hips into his. gods of olympus he could’ve asked you to kill someone and you would’ve done so. and as he expected you gave in,

“you have seven minutes, make this quick”

[zeroreasonstocare]

Choso is covered in flour. You’re on the floor, crying from laughter.

“Choso! You- hahaha! You can’t plop it!” You cackle.

Choso just sighs and wipes his face off, retrying the scoop of flour. He’s trying to learn how to bake, but he wants to do it all himself while you teach him, which is proving to be… a bit difficult.

You get up from the floor and move behind him, reaching around his large frame and guiding his hands. Choso instantly gets shy, but you don’t notice, instead you continue to help him make the cake from scratch.

“Like this…” you mumble, helping him dump the flour and use the whisk to mix the batter.

Choso watches your hand, the difference in your hands catching his eye. Your hands are so small and soft, his are large and calloused from the numerous jobs he’s had.

Soon enough, the batter is done, poured into a pan and put into the oven to bake. Yuji walks in curiously when he smells baking.

“What’s in the oven?”

“Yuji, don’t get too close, it’s hot.” You warn the little kid.

“We’re making cake.” Choso smiles.

“Why?”

“We just felt like it.” You smile.

“Is it anyone’s birthday?”

“It could be someone’s, but not anyone I know of.”

“So why make a cake?”

“Doesn’t dessert sound nice, Yuji?” Choso laughs.

“Okay!” The boy runs to play with toys while you help clean the flour off of Choso.

You wipe his shirt, then get close to wipe off his face. He watches you focus, your brows furrowed as you wipe off his forehead, tongue poking out and head slightly tilted.

You’re focused on watching his face as you wipe off the flour, watching his pupils get larger, his lips slightly part, eyes fluttering slightly as he blinks. You watch his gaze move down from your eyes, you can only assume he’s staring at your lips.

“…What’s the timer at now?”

Choso looks at the timer after a few seconds. “Um, 5:30.”

“Okay.” You back away and get the frosting ready. “When the timer beeps, poke the cake with a butter knife to check if it’s fully baked through, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods and watches you.

When the cake is done, he pokes the cake, it’s fully baked, and you let it cool for a bit then show him how to frost the cake.

You giggle and get some on his nose, so he retaliates and gets some on your cheek. You squeal and laugh, feeling him purposely go overboard and smear frosting on you. Eventually, the cake finishes getting frosted and your face is a mess, now it’s his turn to clean off your face.

His calloused hands are gentle when he holds your face, he’s focused and you admire his features. His hair isn’t up for once, eye bags are more prominent since he worked late last night, and his piercings are removed.

Once your face is less sticky, you cut the cake after dinner and Yuji excitedly eats it. The cake is delicious.

“So, Yuji, how’s Choso’s first cake?” You ask.

“Delicious!” The boy grins.

“Yeah? Did I do good?” Choso smiles.

“Yeah!”

You giggle and finish your cake, putting the leftovers in his fridge since you’re over here more than your own apartment next door. You go home and head to bed, thinking about how close you and Choso were earlier.

Taglist: @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

Masterlist

[spencereidluver]

P is for Perfect

february 04, 2009

summary: You and Spencer bake cookies together

word count: 1.1k

warnings: an insane amount of fluff. like maybe call your dentist before reading

“It doesn’t have to be exact, Spence,” you giggle and playfully knock your hip into him. Spencer stood over the counter, a kitchen scale, butter knife, measuring cup, and bag of flour beneath him. He was meticulously measuring the exact amount of flour. You couldn’t help but smile at him, so smart, but so oblivious to the leniency in the world of baking. 

Spencer looks up at you, his lips curing into a shy smile. “I know, but I want them to be perfect.” He finally levels out the flour and dumps it into the metal bowl. “Baking is a science, after all.”

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s more of a chemistry I think. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to just have fun.”

His eyes soften as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I am having fun. Especially because I get to make them with you.”

You can’t help but fall into his touch when such sweet words are leaving his lips. His smug smile makes you want to collect yourself though, not wanting to give in to his cockiness. “Alright then, Dr. Reid, these better be the best damn cookies to ever enter my mouth.”

You and Spencer continue to mix the ingredients. His attention to detail and your more relaxed approach meshed perfectly. Always a perfect duo, you and Spencer were. Whether it be your brains on a case, your love for one another, or apparently, your baking skills. 

You poured in the chocolate chips directly from the bag, a clear overshot of the recommended amount. You turned around to toss the empty bag in the garbage, but apparently, you were much faster at this than Spencer thought you’d be.

“Stealing ingredients now, are we?” you ask him, catching him red handed popping a small handful of chocolate chips in his mouth.

Spencer grinned mischievously as he chewed. “Well if you’re going to add three times the amount the recipe calls for surely a few can be spared.” He giggles and grabs another chocolate chip from the bowl. “Here, have one,” he holds it up to your lips.

You open your mouth allowing for him to gently place it on your tongue. You lock eyes, his filled with a sweetness that went beyond the chocolate. You lean in and kiss him, tasting the lingering chocolate on his lips. He hovers over your shoulder as he watches you scoop the dough into small balls on the baking sheet, reaching around your waist to put the pans in the oven. He sets the oven timer before turning to you and pulling you into his arms.

Spencer stood there holding you for several minutes. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and pressed his body firmly against yours. You held him silently, unable to speak even if you wanted to. Your face was pressed to his chest, fingers rubbing his back gently. He was in a t-shirt, which was quite rare for him as usually if he wasn’t in his work attire he was either in his pajamas or cozied up in a sweater. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you. “I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he whispers. His gaze is so adoring. 

“And I can’t believe I found you,” you say as you place a hand on his cheek. 

He rests his hand atop yours, fingers between your knuckles. “I love you Y/n,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer with the arm still around your waist.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” you respond. You pull him down and nuzzle his nose in an eskimo kiss, which causes him to giggle. “But we should clean up before the cookies are done.”

“Do you think we can get it done in the four minutes and fifty-seven seconds left on the oven timer?” He asks, stepping away from you and running water from the sink over a cloth.

He rings the rag out and tosses it at you, leaving the water running and adding soap to the sink. He begins taking the dishes over as you wipe the countertops.

You notice a small glob of dough on the edge of the stovetop and collect it on your index finger. Turning around to face the sink- and Spencer’s back- you tap his shoulder with your clean hand. He notices the cheeky grin on your face which causes him to smile as well.

“I got something for you,” you say, bringing your finger up to his face and smearing the dough on his nose. 

“Hey, no fair!” he playfully pouts. “My hands are wet, I can’t get it off!”

“Aw, isn’t that unfortunate,” you grin, turning back around to finish cleaning the counters.

beep

You dropped the rag on the counter and slid an oven mitt over your hand. You sat the fresh cookies on the stovetop, stopping the timer and turning off the oven as you did so. 

The smell of fresh cookies filled Spencer’s apartment; if they weren’t clearly piping hot, they’d all be gone right this moment. You approach Spencer who was nearing the last of the dishes and lean your head onto his shoulder.

“Well well well,” you say, “what do we have here, slowpoke?”

“I could’ve been done in time if you wouldn't have distracted me,” Spencer argues.

“You can tell yourself that, pretty boy,” you say and plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw.

You transferred the warm cookies into a container and brought the baking sheet- the final dish- over to Spencer. He quickly scrubs it, then dries his hands. 

He gives a satisfied sigh. “Alright,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back to direct you to the stove with him. “Ready to try them?” 

He picks one up from the container and breaks it in half, handing you the slightly larger piece. He watches as you take a bite from the corner, anticipating your reaction.

“These are really good,” you say, taking another bite. He takes his first, nodding in agreement as the flavor sets in. 

“Dare I say perfect?” He says, a nod to your earlier comment about them not needing to be.

“They are,” you agree. “Probably because of me.” You smile at him.

“Oh whatever,” he says with a sassy tone, rolling his eyes as he takes another cookie from the bowl.

____

next chapter: in progress

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

____

a/n: this part is kind of just a filler lil blurb. im working on some larger story elements, and am writing a part that actually takes place within an episode of the show with y/n written in as a character. assuming that part does well, i’ll probably be doing some more of those because its actually a ton of fun. anyways thank you all for the suggestions and support!!

read this for information regarding my use of the term “eskimo kiss” in this part

____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

____

taglist:

@justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @navs-bhat @sammy-4103 @ada--44 @moongirl27

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[emswritings]

Mothers day

Synopsis: James and Harry make a mothers day breakfast for you

Word count: 0.7k

Tags: dad!James x mom!reader, fluff, baby Harry

Authors note: i'm not Indian, but i hc James to be, so lemme know if i got anything wrong, i used google for it

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up to the sound of laughter and shushing. Smiling, you sit up and begin to get ready for the day. You leave the room and follow the noise into the kitchen. 

“Mummy’s gonna love this!” Harry squeals, jumping up and down. James laughs, and continues making the poha. It originally surprised you how well he cooked, but now the smell of Indian spices is like home. It wouldn't be James without it. 

“I would hope so, it’s her favorite,” James responds, stirring the pan. He loves these kinds of mornings, when he can just spend some one on one time with his son. That's not to say that he doesn't like spending time with you per say, but he loves getting to show him how to make classic Indian food like his father showed him. Some of his fondest memories are in the kitchen, both with his mum and his appa, and even Sirius when he eventually moved in. One of those memories is when he was about Harry’s age, maybe a little bit younger, and he helped his appa make dinner for his mum on mothers day. He remembers being so excited to help that he had accidently burnt himself on the inside of his wrist, and has a scar from it to this day. 

“Hare bare, will you go get me the pepper out of the fridge? The green one,” James asks the five year old. Harry nods and bounces over to the fridge. When he gets back, he hands James the pepper, and laughs as James picks him up, setting him on the counter.

“Now, I need you to stir this for me while I cut up this pepper, can you do that?” James asks, handing Harry the wooden spoon. 

“Yes!” Harry cheers, beginning to stir. That's the sight you walk in on when you get to the kitchen. You smile and watch them a little bit. James turns and puts the peppers in the pan when Harry spots you. You smile and walk over to them, asking, “what’re you two making?” 

James jumps, not hearing you, and turns, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “you're supposed to be in bed right now missy.” This elicits a laugh from Harry, and for you to raise your hands in mock surrender. You smile up at him, and bat your eyelashes dramatically, “will you forgive me Jamie?”

James rolls his eyes fondly, but says, “only if you’ll go back to bed. And Harry has to follow to make sure you won’t try to lurk in the hallway.” 

You nod, and open your arms, “consider it a deal. Now can I get a good morning hug please?” James smiles, and wraps you up in a hug, rocking you side to side a little. Eventually, Harry decides that he needs a hug too, because he hops down from the counter, and wraps his arms around your legs. You laugh, and scoop him up into your arms, enjoying this moment. 

“Alright, now back to bed for you,” James steps back, turning to the oven. You sigh dramatically, but go back to your bedroom with Harry still in your arms. He makes sure you get comfy in bed with a book, then turns around and goes back to help James with breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Harry opens the bedroom door again, and James comes walking in with a tray of food and tea that looks to be for all three of you. You smile, and put the book down on the nightstand, getting ready for them to come cuddle with you. Harry jumps into the bed on one side, and James sits down, much more carefully with the food in his hands on the other. 

Most of the day in your bedroom with your boys, then you move to the playroom, and eventually, your friends all join you in the living room for a mothers day dinner. Once everyone has left, and you’ve put Harry in bed, it’s just you and James in the living room. 

“Thank you James,” you say, smiling at him. He looks up at you from where the magazine he was reading and tilts his head, “For what angel?”

“Just… for everything,” you shrug, “I really appreciate it, and wanted you to know how grateful I am.”

James smiles, and beckons you over to him on the couch. You oblige, and sit down next to him. That's how you two fell asleep, curled up on the couch, no blanket, except for the quidditch magazine on James’s lap. And you wouldn't have traded it in for the world.

[digitalfishwish]

Kit's Traybake Pancakes (cinnamon apple var.) - Updated!

Love eating pancakes but hate making them? This traybake pancake recipe may be for you! Making these gives me enough pancake squares for 6 days (5 if you eat two on the day you make them). They’re fluffy, reheat well, can either be eaten with or without maple syrup, and are very customizable! I recommend adding fruit and protein powder like I do in this recipe, making it a (slightly) healthier breakfast than just pure carbs.

(Updated) instructions under the cut!

Full disclosure, the base for this recipe was the mug pancake recipe from Emma’s Goodies, which you can watch here!

I made this mug pancake for years (except with tripled portions because I was using a very big mug) and it was super delicious! However, for just one mug pancake, it was a bit of a production and didn’t feel super worth it. Thusly, I have adapted the recipe to be made in a 13”x9” baking tray, which makes a whole lot of breakfast.

Recipe (serving size: 2 squares):

Base Ingredients:

12 tbsp. butter (I use salted, if you don’t have salted butter, add a small amount of kosher salt to your recipe)

9 tbsp. (1/2 cup+ 1 tbsp) granulated sugar

12 fl.oz. milk (I use skim, use whatever kind you like)

3 cups all-purpose flour

3 tsp. baking powder

Customizable Ingredients:

1 scoop protein powder (I use vanilla flavored whey)

1/4 cup of maple syrup (ideally not pancake syrup, they’re different)

1 apple (I use McIntosh or Honeycrisp)

A piping hot cup of apple tea with a heaping tablespoon of honey

Nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom to taste, for sprinkling on top

Base Instructions:

Heat oven to 375°F, take out a 13”x9” nonstick baking pan and spray bottom and sides with cooking spray (yes theoretically I know you don’t need to spray a nonstick pan but better safe than sorry).

If you choose to put apple chunks in, I recommend doing this step first. I personally like to let the chunks soak in my favorite loose leaf apple tea (non-sponsored plug)! Boil a cup of water and fill the tea infuser with tea. Add a heaping tablespoon of honey to the cup and stir until it dissolves. Then put them infuser in and steep the tea for three minutes, after which you should give the mug a final stir and pour it into a bowl. See “customizable instructions, steps 2-4” for how I recommend cutting the apple. After that, put the peeled apple chunks into the bowl of delicious tea and let them soak until it’s time to add them later on!

If you’re not putting apple in, do this step first. Put butter in a bowl and melt it in the microwave. I recommend microwaving for 1m20s.

Put butter in a stand mixer, preferably with the paddle attachment. While you heat the milk in the microwave* (40 seconds, I use a glass liquid measuring cup), add the granulated sugar to the mixer. Once the milk is heated, give it a real quick stir, and then add it and use one of the lower settings on your mixer.

(If you have customizable wet ingredients, add them now!)

Add the flour and baking powder, mix again on low setting until it forms a batter (a small amount of lumps is okay from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to overmix).

*You can’t put cold milk into hot butter, it will form little clumps and be gross

Customizable Instructions:

Add a 1/4 cup of maple syrup (as above, preferably before the flour, with the other wet ingredients), and also one scoop of your preferred protein powder. Mix on low setting until it’s incorporated.

Peel the apple wedges with a peeler (don't use the skin, you'll thank me later). If you have an apple cutter (the thing that looks like a wheel with handles), use that. If you don’t:

Take your apple and a large, sharp knife (be careful) and cut the apple in half vertically. Then place it down with the core side up, and cut each apple half like so: cut off the left side, avoiding the core, followed by the right. Then turn what’s left of the half apple on its side, and cut off the last piece at the back. Do the same for the other apple half, then chop the segments into whatever sized chunks you want.

Use as much of it as you want, but I myself use the whole apple. (If you don’t, eat whatever segments you don’t intend to use for a lil snack.) Then put apple chunks into mixer, and half the tea if you made it, and mix until incorporated. (Drink what tea remains, it’s even more delicious now that the fresh apple’s been in it!)

Baking Instructions:

Pour batter into greased baking tray, shake the pan until the batter is flattened and reaches all the corners (or use a spatula and spread it evenly by hand). Optional: Sprinkle the top with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom according to your tastes. I tend to have a heavy hand even if I don’t mean to, but it still comes out very tasty! (and smells great while baking!)

When the oven reaches temperature (if you preheated it at the beginning, it may have already been at temperature for a while) put the pan in and cook for 35 mins. Know your oven and if it tends to be hotter or colder*, adjust cook time as necessary.

When the timer goes off, test the center in several places with a toothpick. As long as it doesn’t come out goopy, you’re good! (crumbs on the toothpick is fine) I say test in several places because if you accidentally go through a piece of apple, your toothpick may come out slightly wet, but that doesn’t mean the pancakes aren’t done. If it's not done, cook in intervals of 5 minutes, testing each time the timer goes off.

Take pan out and use a butter knife or a pie serving spatula and poke around the edges of the pan to free the pancake traybake from the edges. Let cool for 10 minutes.

Cut into squares. I tend to cut 12 pieces, but you could go smaller or larger depending on how much you intend to eat at once.

*How do I know if my oven runs hot or cold, you may ask? If any recipe you make comes out raw and/or takes longer to cook than the instructions say, your oven is colder! If your food ends up burnt and/or takes less time to cook than the recipe instructions say, your oven is hotter!

Enjoy! I eat two squares at a time and it makes a good breakfast! For storing, put however much of it you can eat in 2-3 days in the fridge. Store the rest in the freezer.

For any customizing other than what I did, use whatever fruit, spices, syrups, and/or protein powders you want! Just be aware that more fruit in the batter means it may take longer to cook!

If you make them, either the same way I did here or differently, let me know how they came out!

OLD EDIT: After some experimentation, it seems like the pancakes come out more moist if baked for 35 minutes at 375°F! I also soak the apple pieces in a cup of “Apple Blood Tea” (find it on adagio teas, it’s super delish!) with honey at the beginning of the process, then add the ‘marinated’ apples and half a cup of the tea into the batter.

NEW EDIT 09/2024: I just changed the recipe whether it needed changing, since I realized that changing stuff behind the readmore didn’t transfer to previously reblogged posts 😫 I also added image descriptions.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 13

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive and some triggers may not be specified for plot reasons.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: We came back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

Your new life is more of a death. The old you is dead and can never be again. Not quite a true death, it’s a purgatory you’re slogging through, waiting for the ultimate end. 

Your first days are bleak. The house is filled with a stagnant pall as you wile away the hours playing your role. It’s easier when you pretend you're a character in a book, just like you did as a girl. When you became Elizabeth Bennet or one of the Pevensie kids. You escape in your mind because there is no other way out.

A routine quickly falls into place. You wake up, though sleep is sparse and hewn in wretched nightmares that mirror reality, and wait until Clark stirs. He never rouses very long after you. You open yourself to him, laying on your back, legs splayed as he grunts and ruts.

Tender, you dress in one of the thin dresses he collected for you and you go to work. You cook him breakfast. Sometimes, he takes you back to bed after he eats. Others, he pins you to the counter or the table. Then you clean up; the table, the dishes, and yourself.

When he stays, he sits and reads. You hover around him, busying yourself with a broom or just watching him, weighing the minutes. Not yet, not yet.

Lunch comes and you take care of that too. Then him. His appetite never wavers. The heavy pain sticks in your pelvis but he can’t think the limp is from anything more than the chain tugging at your ankle.

You pace, restless and wait. That’s all you do. Wait. For the first chance or his next whim. Whichever comes before the other.

You stand at the window and watch the wildlife. You feel him watching you in kind. When he leaves, he closes the shutters, latching them tight on the outside. Locking you in like a toy in a chest. A doll he can pick up to play with whenever he likes.

Dinnertime. Another meal. You’re not very hungry but you make yourself eat. If he lets you have a bath, you can puke it back up when he goes to get a towel. That is the last marker of time before bedtime…

Sleep is not won without a final surrender.

That day, as you wrap potatoes to cook in the oven, all noise seems louder, every movement more strenuous. The staleness in the air is suffocating. Your ears buzz from the constant silence. You crinkle the foil around a potato and drop it, rubbing your lobes.

You keep your hands on your ears and stare at the counter. You could scoop out your brains with a spoon. Are you going crazy? Your head feels itchy on the inside and you would be all to happy to scratch right through the bone. 

“Honey?” Clark’s voice ripples through the air. “Is something wrong?”

You close your eyes and cringe. You drag your hands away and wrap the other potato, wincing at the aluminum's raucous wrinkle. He stands and you shudder. He’s coming close.

“It’s too quiet,” you say at last.

He nears and looms beside you. You put the potatoes aside and drag over the pan of marinating steak. His large hand rests on the counter.

“Can I help?” He offers. You shake your head.

“No, thanks, I got it, honey,” you reach to touch his hand. You just want him to back off. Sweat stains your skin as his proximity sets you on fire. 

He leans in to kiss your crown, his hand dancing down your back. He gropes your ass and growls. His hand lingers and you brace yourself. It isn’t unlike him to interrupt.

“Love you,” he grits before he draws away.

You let your breath out in short spurts. You don’t want him to hear the relief in you. Your thighs quiver, bruised and raw. You carry on without pause. Keep yourself busy and he’ll let you be. For now.

🖊

The next day, Clark leaves you. You don’t know what he does when he isn’t there. Sometimes he brings back groceries or little things he’s forgotten. Others, he’s gone for hours and returns only with stress in his shoulders. You try not to think too much about what happens outside these walls, that only makes them close in tighter.

When he comes back, just around lunch time, he presents you a radio. An orange and black radio you’ve seen used by those in remote regions. He sets it on the counter as he flicks it on and adjusts the knob, searching for a station through the crackle. You cross your arms as you watch around his elbow.

The stringy tune comes through and warbles against the static. The music soothes you. You only realise then, you’d never thought you’d hear it again. Clark turns to you as you stare at the speakers.

“Do you like it?” He asks.

You nod and unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, “yes, thank you.”

Is this all you have? A radio?

“Do you… wanna dance?” He murmurs shyly.

You look at him. You reach for his hand in acceptance. Nothing he gives comes without a price. He takes you into his arms wordlessly, his face brightening as he leads you into a slow shuffle.

‘I bless the day I found you I want to stay around you And so I beg you Let it be me’

The song is older. You’re not sure who it is. By your guess, it’s even older than your parents… you know you won’t see them again. Even if you do get your chance, you can never go back to the life before this.

“I remember the first day I saw you,” Clark says as he pulls your head to rest against his chest, “you were wearing that little pink plaid dress…”

His words hang in the air. You remember the day too. The day you thought you’d figure it all out. You’d pay your dues as an assistant, work your way up to a writer one day, and maybe, in your wildest dreams, an editor…

“I love you, honey,” he pets your head.

“Love you too,” you eke out.

He pulls back to look down at you. You gaze up as he brings his fingertips under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and draws away reluctantly. He hums as his other hand closes around yours.

“Let’s take a bath,” he lets go of you and follows the chain to its end, unhooking it from the loop in the floor. He tugs you after him as he lets the radio play.

You let him take you into the bathroom. He’s intent on his mission. He drops the chain, the links hitting the floor heavily. You stare at it, just for a second, not too long for your heart to spike.

He bends over the tub and cranks the faucet. You watch him, fingers tingling, as he puts in the stop and holds his hand under the water’s flow. Stay calm.

You move closer to him as he undresses. You help him lift his shirt and you pet the soft hair along his torso. He turns to you, that foggy look in his eyes. You bring your hands to his pants and undo them, biting your lip as you hold his gaze.

You pull down his pants and let them fall down his thick legs. You tilt your head at the sudden thought, tweaking your ear towards the music. He reaches to stroke your chin.

“What is it, honey?” He snarls.

“This song,” you stop and listen to The Ronettes' iconic beat, “can I turn it up?”

He rolls his thumb across your chin and exhales, “sure, honey. I like this one too.”

You smile and shift your head, taking his thumb into your mouth. His eyes round as you swirl your tongue around his salty fingertip. You pop your lips off as he sighs.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Mmm, baby,” he breathes.

You turn slowly, measuring your steps and your heartbeat. You go out into the kitchen, the chain rattling with each step. You peer around, taking in the place. You hear the water swish as he lowers himself into the tub. You peek over as the end of the chain trails just outside the bathroom.

You stop by the radio and glance over your shoulder. Now. You turn up the radio, just loud enough. You bend and tug the chain inch by inch towards you, the noise disguised by the drumbeat. You coil it around your hand, allowing enough for you to walk.

You peer over at the bathroom doorway.

“I’ll bring towels,” you call over the music.

“Hurry,” he booms back as he lets out another gritty sigh, “baby, I need you.”

You turn without hesitation. This is it. You march into the front room and to the front door. Of course he wouldn’t lock it, not with the cuff on your ankle hooked to the loop. You glance over at the hook in the floor and steel yourself.

You open the door, lifting it on the hinges to keep it quiet. The radio drones behind you as you let yourself out into the cool air. You take one step, then the other, each one quicker than the last. You approach the trees and take a breath.

It’s now or never.

You plunge into the woods, your gait uneven as you run with the chain yank with each step. You don’t know where you’re going or where to go, you just need to get far away from here. You can’t live like this. You can’t die like this.

Your feet hit the forest floor, unfeeling to the jab of sharp rocks and the scratch of twigs. Don’t look back, just go, just go. You sprint until your lungs burn, until your mouth is parched and scratchy, until your limbs ache.

You stumble onto the ground and gulp. You can’t go any further. You’re too weak.

You shake on your hands and knees, fighting to catch your breath, trying to urge yourself on. 

Then you hear it. A giggle. A chirpish yelp and the splash of water. People? You crawl forward towards the noise. You lift yourself to look over the overturned trunk at the edge of the incline. There’s a lake below, there’s bodies splashing through the waters, screaming and laughing.

Oh, god! You stand and throw your hand up, mustering your strength to cry out. Help!

As you open your mouth, your voice shrivels up as your throat is clamped in a vice. You're dragged back away from the drop off and turned to face your villain. Clark stands naked amid the trees, seeming as towering and thick as any of them, as he grips your neck. He lifts you off your feet, your toes dangling above the ground.

You claw at his forearm as you wheezes. Your eyes well as he glares at you, shaking with rage. The chain falls from your hand and hits the floor, weighing on your ankle. He bears his teeth and hisses.

“Why would you do this?”

You can’t speak. Your head throbs as you reach to bat at his chest, begging silently for him to release you. ‘Sorry…’ you mouth, ‘sorry…’

“I love you, sweetie, I love you so much,” his voice quakes as he squeezes tighter, “why did you do this?”

Your lips open and close as your head swells violently. Your arms feel heavy as you grasp at him desperately. I can do better, I can do better. Just one more chance, honey. Please.

“You’re the one, you’re the one,” he chants tearfully, “I never loved anyone like I love you.”

“Cl-Clark,” you force out, “ple-ease—”

“No,” he crushes your throat so not a single wisp can get through, “I will never… love anyone that way I love you. Never…”

Your cheek twitches as your lashes glazes with tears. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind swirls. His eyes fill with red light, glowing hotter and hotter. You see yourself in the scarlet glare; you in your tub, reading your favourite novel, that first day at the office when you nervously introduced yourself, your days in school, running between classes, your high school graduation, the little girl dancing in the fields, a princess out of time.

You see it all behind you and you see the emptiness ahead of you. You shake your head above his grip and use the last of your effort to mouth the words to him. The truth.

‘I….’ you make certain the movement is clear, even as your eyes threaten to roll into your skull, ‘hate.’ Your lips twist in a cruel smirk, ‘you.’

Your head lolls and you stare into his glowing irises. You’re ready. This is ever after. 

The world is consumed in a red flash and a striking heat. It sears to the bone and ends just as quickly. All is black and gone. A life burnt to cinder.

Stayed tuned for the epilogue

[imagineredwood]

1. Cake 🍰

Summary: Angel is more than happy to help you bake a Valentine's day cake. Eating cake is his favorite.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x female reader

Warnings: 18+ implied sexual content

Word count: 738

A/N: Are y’all gonna be pissed that I ended it here? Yes. Will I do it again? Also yes 💀

"Ok, now…uh…two cups of flour."

Angel nodded and grabbed the measuring cup, scooping the cup full and then leveling it off just like you had shown him. He dumped the first cup into the mixing bowl and then did it again, slowly so he wouldn't make a huge mess again. You had already wiped up the flour from both the counter and your shirt.

"Ok. That was the last step. Now we just wait until it's completely mixed and then we can dye it."

Angel beamed, childlike joy in his eyes as he snatched up the bottle of pink food coloring.

"Been waiting the whole time just for this part."

You smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly. Angel popped the lid and then leaned over, watching as the last of the flour mixed in with the wet ingredients.

"Now?"

You nodded, leaning forward with him to look into the bowl, ready to watch the pretty colors swirling yourself.

"Now."

Angel squeezed the bottle gently, a few drops plopping down onto the surface of the batter. You both stared into the bowl, watching as the mixer turned the batter into the lightest of pinks then brighter and brighter until it was the perfect shade of pink for your cake.

"Good eye."

Angel grinned, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

"Thank you."

You turned to face him with a smile, leaning closer to him and puckering your lips for another kiss. He was more than happy to indulge you, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you slowly. Once twice, then three times. He pulled away much to your disappointment and smirked at the sound of your whine.

"Aw, what's the matter? Poor baby needs more kisses?"

You fluttered your eyelashes, reaching to turn off the stand mixer before placing your hands flat on his chest.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

The Mayan chuckled and leaned down, his lips hovering mere centimeters from your lips. His breath was warm as it ghosted over your lips.

"Well, then we better hurry up and put this cake to bake."

Your pout was pronounced as you huffed, hands making quick work to unscrew the bowl from the stand and start pouring the batter into the heart-shaped cake pan. The bubblegum-colored batter rippled into the pan as it filled, Angel's hands coming to rest on your hips, tugging you back into him. He wasn't sure if the tiny hitch in your breath was from the feeling of him hard against you, or from the shock of his rings freezing the tiny sliver of skin peaking out right between your top and waistline.

His fingers held and kneaded the plush flesh beneath them, his pulse quickening. You hurriedly tapped the pan onto the countertop, pushing any bubbles to the top before turning around in Angel's arms.

"Just gotta get it in the oven."

You thanked your lucky stars that you had been proactive enough to actually preheat the over this time and just put it on and then have to wait. You opened the oven door and leaned forward, sliding the pan onto the rack carefully before standing back up and closing the door. You turned to face Angel then, arms reaching for his waist when he sucked his teeth at you.

"Forgetting something?"

You grumbled and pulled away, grabbing your phone and starting a timer for 30 minutes, eyes hungry as you looked back up at him.

"Anything else, your majesty?"

Angel laughed at your sarcasm, the sound husky.

"Nah. I prefer Sir though."

You swallowed and he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, his calloused thumb running over the swell of your bottom lip.

"How long we got before that timer goes off?"

"Thirty."

Angel shrugged, hands coming to grip your waist, moving your body against the counter where he wanted you before spinning you around, his hand on the back of your neck pushing you to lay flat, bent over the counter. His hands made quick work of pulling your heart-covered pjs down over your ass until they pooled at your ankles, your red panties following. He dropped to his knees behind you and pressed a small kiss to your left cheek, also giving a quick nip at the skin. He grinned at your little squeak and used both hands to spread you open, his mouth watering as he looked at you.

"Even fuckin' prettier than the cake."

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[shawtuzi]

18+/// okay but imagine being ceo!eren’s cute little housewife and you decide to surprise him by baking him his favorite dessert in nothing but a short, tight apron and heels.

now this was honestly way out of your comfort zone but after all the hard work eren does to make sure you’re pampered and happy you had to thank him for all he does—and what better way to do that than give him a little show? you felt nervous, giddy, and horny all wrapped together but the second you heard the familiar jingle of his keys a burst of confidence struck you like lightening. “in the kitchen renny!” you called out to him grabbing a pinch of flour and sprinkling it on your face and very exposed breasts.

eren dropped his keys in the dish near the door before walking to the kitchen, his heart nearly stopping at the sight of you bent over. your pussy was on full display, folds glistening in the light as you looked for a pan to put the homemade strawberry cake batter in like you didn’t have a clue in the world eren was eyefucking you from across the room. “welcome home my love you hungry for something sweet?” you smiled scooping up some of the batter onto your finger to get a taste. you moaned dramatically as the sweetness hit your tongue, trying to fight off your giggles at the sight of eren’s dumbfounded face.

he walked over slowly, the sound of his expensive shoes echoing throughout the room. “yes i am craving something sweet actually but i don’t know if we’re thinking of the same things are we wife?” he chuckled pressing his body against your back. you breath hitched when you felt his hand cup your pussy, his middle and ring finger slipping between your soaked folds. “by all means don’t stop because i’m here,” he smiled pressing featherlight kissed against your neck, “keep going finish what you started.” you knew your husband well enough to know his intentions in this moment were anything but pure, but you listened regardless shakily lifting up the bowl containing the batter to pour it into the pan.

“now the presentation may not come out the best but i- oh! i-it’ll still taste good i p-put a lot of love into it,” you began to fumble over your words when you felt his soft fingers brush against your clit. eren being the annoying tease he was pressed his fingers against your clit but made no movements after that, only adding pressure to his fingers as the seconds went by. you were so needy—so desperate to get any type of affection from your husband you tried to subtly grind your pussy onto his fingers but it worked to no avail and all you got in response was a quick slap to your pussy. “i don’t care how it looks baby i know it’ll taste delicious,” he hummed into your ear gently nibbling on the lobe.

once you put the pan into the oven and cleaned up your mess all under eren’s intense and watchful eye he had you pushed up against the counter once again this time your front facing him. “what am i gonna do with you,” he sighed running his hands down your sides, squeezing at the soft skin of your hips. “cake’ll be done in 20 minutes and you still need to make the icing….but i don’t think i can wait that long to have you,” your brows furrowed at the mischievous glint in his eyes. what is this man thinking about? suddenly eren lifted you onto the counter, spreading your thighs roughly to get a look at your soaked center. his tongue traced over his bottom lip as he watched trickles of your wetness drip onto the counter. “always so fuckin’ messy,” he growled smacking your clit, “wonder what the housekeepers must be thinking when we need our sheets cleaned every other day.”

his taunting words had your cheeks burning in embarrassment and your pussy clenching around nothing. you really didn’t mean to be so messy he just brings it outta you :( without wanting eren shoved two fingers in your cunt, curling them with ease. “flour was a cute touch,” he chuckled licking and sucking at the streaks of flour on your breasts, “love this apron on you too y’should wear it more.” you hummed in agreement, running your fingers through his soft locs as he began to suck on your nipples. “squeezin’ my fingers so good you really are the perfect wife aren’t you?” he cooed tracing his fingers over your lips. you eyed at the wedding band that sat oh so prettily on his ring finger and couldn’t help but wrap your mouth around the digit, swiping your tongue over the cool metal of the ring.

life didn’t feel real in this moment for eren, but then again every intimate moment he shared with you didn’t feel real. he couldn’t believe he bagged a woman as beautiful and caring as you and the fact that you treated him like he was your entire world didn’t help his obsession with you either. with the way you batted your eyelashes so prettily at him whenever you spoke to him to the way you took his dick so nicely like the good girl you were he put a ring on your finger within months.

“y’know you’d look really pretty carrying one of my kids,” the pace of his fingers picked up making it almost impossible to concentrate on what he was saying. all you could muster was a whiny ‘uh huh’ that had eren smirking. “what do you say baby how ‘bout we start trying after you finish baking hm? timers almost up and you still need to make some icing,” he brought this thumb to your clit rubbing tightly little circles that had your eyes crossing. you wrapped your smaller hand around his wrist digging your nails into the skin, “f-fuck the icing ‘n the cake just—just fuck me!” you couldn’t think of anything else besides eren eren eren. the way he was so gorgeous when he was concentrated on your body, the faint smell of his cologne, the mouthwatering view of his bulge straining against his slacks.

just as you reached your earth shattering peak the timer went off but all you could hear was white noise. eren pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before briefly walking away to turn of the timer and take the cake out. he scooped your body off the counter bridal style before walking up to your shared room, tossing your half naked form on the bed. “i hope you know i was serious,” you heard him speak softly, watching as he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. “n’ what’s that?” you smiled untying the strings to your apron. you couldn’t have been happier that eren was finally fulfilling his promise of making you a mother and you were going to make every second of the process count.

“oh you don’t know?” he smirked unbuttoning his dress shirt, your eyes immediately went to his beautifully sculpted abdomen. “i’m afraid i don’t husband,” you giggled pulling his body closer by his belt loop, pressing wet kisses against his stomach. “well wife,” he chuckled unbuckling his belt, “i’m going to fuck you like madman until you place a positive pregnancy test in front of my face.” he yanked his slacks and briefs down, his hard dick slapping against his stomach, “n’ then i’m gonna fuck you some more even when you’re all round and swollen—sound good?” it sounds better than good.

[hallow-witxh]

Pumpkin Cupcakes Feel-Good Abundance Spell Recipe

Yes yes yes, I know it's still summer and autumn is a loooong way away, but damnit, sometimes I want to call forth my Inner White Girl and indulge in pumpkin spice! Well, luckily for me (and for you!), I have a perfect recipe for you - because not only is it a dozen pumpkin spice mini cakes, but also a feel-good and abundance spell. So here's my abundance spell recipe - complete with cream cheese frosting and DIY pumpkin spice mix! So, without further ado, here we go!

What you'll need:

Pumpkin pie spice:

3 tablespoons ground cinnamon (adds power to the spell, prosperity, success)

2 teaspoons ground ginger (adds strength to the spell)

2 teaspoons ground nutmeg (money)

1 teaspoon ground allspice (money, luck)

1 teaspoon ground cloves (success)

Bowl

Spoon, fork, or whisk

Cakes:

2 eggs

1 1/4 cups granulated sugar (banishes negativity)

1 cup pumpkin puree (granting wishes, prosperity)

3/4 cup melted butter (enhances peacefulness)

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (abundance)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (self-love)

1/4 teaspoon salt (protection, grounding)

Cupcake liners (I like these! Unbleached, chlorine-free)

Wire rack (optional)

Whisk, hand mixer, or stand mixer

Large mixing bowl

Cream cheese frosting:

1/2 cup softened butter (enhances peacefulness)

8 ounces softened cream cheese (meeting goals)

4 1/2 cups powdered sugar (banishes negativity)

splash of vanilla extract (self-love)

Large mixing bowl

Hand mixer, or stand mixer (trust me, you'll want a hand or stand mixer for this)

Piping bags (optional)

What you'll do:

Pumpkin pie spice:

Add all ingredients into a bowl

Mix mix mix

All done!

Cakes:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (F) and line a 12-cup muffin baking pan with paper liners

Place the wet ingredients (eggs, sugar, pumpkin puree, and butter) in a bowl or stand mixer bowl. Whisk or mix until smooth.

Add the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, pumpkin pie spice, vanilla extract, and salt) to the bowl. Stir until just combined.

Divide the batter among the 12 muffin cups.

Bake for 15-18 minutes, or until just browned and a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean. A chopstick also works but leaves a bigger hole. Don't worry, you can cover it up with frosting.

Cool for a few minutes in the pan on the wire rack, then transfer the cupcakes to the wire rack to cool completely. Don't frost until the cupcakes are completely cool!

Cream cheese frosting:

Put the butter and cream cheese in the bowl of a mixer or a mixing bowl and mix until light and fluffy, about 3-4 minutes.

Add the powdered sugar, one cup at a time, and mix on low speed until combined. Add the vanilla extract and mix for a minute.

If the frosting is too thick, add 1 teaspoon of milk at a time until desired consistency is reached. You can use any kind of milk, but I don't recommend soy.

Optionally, you can put the frosting in a piping bag and pipe the frosting on the cupcakes. Or you can just dollop it on with a spoon. Or, if you're like a monster like me, you can put a cupcake in a bowl and scoop in some frosting with it. Oh who am I kidding, I mash it all up together like an ungodly goop...

I know it's a long post, but I promise it's actually quite easy! And delicious. Very, very delicious.

As always, practice safely, do your research, and blessed be!

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi!

[huggybearhughes43]

I need a Gabe Perreault imagine. Idc what it's about I just need a Gabe fic.

Cookies?

‼️all credit to @ghostfacd for this idea‼️

Summary: You and Gabe have been fwb since the beginning of college. You mention your mom’s famous cookies that you were helping with over text and he can’t help but rush over to your house.

Warnings: suggestive but no smut (surprise), kissing, Gabe is definitely joking through most of this, L bomb (he wasn’t joking abt that) 😇😇

Word count: I forgot to put a counter 🤭

As I finish putting in the second batch of cookies my phone chimes with a notification. I clean my hands then look-

*three notifications from “Gabe 🤓”*

I smile and open the messages, having time to text him back as my mom mixed the ingredients for the next batch.

Gabe 🤓: watcha up to?

Gabe 🤓: helloooo?

Gabe 🤓: fine Ykw? I’ll find another best friend to fuck 😇

I roll my eyes at my phone before replying.

Me: you know damn well you have no game

Me: I’m making cookies with my mom

Gabe 🤓: cookies? Like your mom’s famous cookies? I’m coming over

I put down my phone and shake my head at the last message. My mom hands me the bowl to lay out the cookies on the parchment. “Hey mom,” I look at her, “Gabe’s coming over if you don’t mind… he’s crazy for these cookies.” I laugh and shake my head. She smiles, soft wrinkles forming around her eyes, “oh he’s welcome whenever he wants, he’s a good kid.”. I laugh and agree.

I put the batch in the oven and my mom starts mixing her last batch of cookies. About five minutes later the doorbell rings. I walk the door, shaking my head before opening it. I smile seeing Gabe’s huge grin but before I can say anything he pushes past me and into the kitchen. “How’s my favorite lady?” He practically skips up to my mom and hugs her softly. I laugh and close the door, rolling my eyes at his dumb but funny actions.

“Yeah it’s good to see you too.” I smile, shaking my head as I enter the kitchen. Before Gabe can reply to me my mom sticks a spoonful of cookie batter in his mouth. I cover my mouth to suppress a laugh. “How does that taste? Does it need more vanilla?” She asks in a Boston accent. He swallows the cookie dough and wipes his lip before shaking his head. “Perfect” he mumbles with a nod. She smiles and hands me the bowl again.

I begin to line up pan with cooking spray when I feel gentle arms hug me from behind and a chin rest on my shoulder. I scoop some dough and place it on the pan, using my thumb to make sure it’s the right shape. “You know I was joking right?” He whispers softly into my ear. “Hm?” I assumed he was talking about my mom being his favorite over me. He smiles into my neck “I could never find another best friend to fuck.”. I snort out a laugh at his words. “And no it’s not because I have no game.” He rolls his eyes with a smile as I giggle. “It’s mostly because you have no game.”

I finish scooping the dough onto the pan. My thumb that I was using to shape the cookies were covered in remanence of the dough. I look over my shoulder at Gabe and bring my thumb to his face. I was only half joking, not expecting him to actually do what I was thinking of but he does. He wraps his lips around my thumb and sucks the dough off. I drop my hand down to my side and shake my head. “You’re so gross” I laugh. He smiles and kisses my shoulder “what can I say? It tastes good.” He shrugs. I shrug him off of me and he backs up. I look at him and smile “wow, would you look at that, now it’s your job to put the cookies on the oven.” He scrunches his nose at me and grabs the tray and puts it in the oven.

I make my way into my living room and sit down on the couch before turning the tv onto a random show. Gabe comes in after he was done in the kitchen and crawls on top of me and lays all his weight on me. I gasp and laugh as he lays his head on my chest, watching the tv. “Jesus, Gabe, you trynna crush me?” I furrow my brows at him and run a hand through his curls. “You’ll be okay” he smiles and looks up at me, his chin now resting on my chest.

“You know, I didn’t just come for your mom’s cookies.”

“Yeah? Beats me, you’re more passionate about those cookies than hockey, and that’s saying a lot”

Gabe smiles softly and stares at me for a bit too long before speaking

“I might love those cookies, but I love you more, promise”

He leans up and presses a soft kiss to my mouth, pulling away with a huge shit eating grin.

“If you think you’re getting in my pants tonight, you’re delusional”

“Worth a shot”

He shrugs and lays back down on my chest. I smile and think for a moment, my hand still running through his hair.

“I love you too”

I whisper and I feel him smile against my chest, silence falls between us until the oven dings, signaling that the cookies were done and he was up and running into the kitchen, causing me to laugh, not even caring to suppress it with my hand.

~~~~~~~

Ohhhh this was cute, I love Gabe

[where-dreamers-go]

“Sweet One” Spn Gabriel x plus size! Reader

(A/N: Requested by @bubblegumfanfics for love confessions galore! I hope you like it! I had rewatched Pride and Prejudice the other day and uh…had to reel back the confessions a bit. Warnings: Tiny angst and fluff Word Count: 943 words)

~~~

Good music. Good vibes. Good baking!

The relief and bubbling joy to have time in your schedule to bake was almost tangible. You loved it.

Baking was a science. An art! It didn’t matter where someone was or what they looked like — they could experience baking in some form. Hopefully.

You, for one, were putting another dessert into your experience. Hence the cooling pan that held a chocolate cake fresh out of the oven set away from your next task.

It looked good. But so did you.

Readjusting your apron, you smiled at the fabric.

This is so cute, you thought. Totally worth it for the pockets alone.

Who said aprons had to be boring?

You had every right to look and feel cute while baking. Maybe highlight your favorite features and curves. You were a human not a cardboard cutout or edited picture. Personality and shape made a person.

Perhaps not a certain archangel’s preferred shape of human.

But he’s my friend. No downside there.

You could accept that.

A falter in your smile slowed you only a little.

There was cookie dough in the refrigerator that needed to be sorted for baking and plenty of counter space after the dishes you had finished washing. No time for sour thoughts that’d get you nowhere.

Besides, you thought as you opened the fridge, these cookies are for Gabriel. There’ll be more than a dozen this time.

Cold bowl of dough in hand, you turned back to the counter, only to find the very archangel you had been thinking of. Never a coincidence.

Gabriel was busying himself by sniffing the chocolate cake.

A smile pulled on your lips.

“Hi. Did you nose bring you here?” You inquired with a light laugh, shutting the fridge door.

“Partially.” He tapped his fingers across the countertop.

“Uh-huh.” You set the bowl down beside the baking sheets.

Golden eyes looked up and held your gaze.

“And I wanted to see you.”

“Ooo.” You placed your hand over your heart. “That is incredibly sweet.” Picking up a scooper, you added, “And I may have something sweet for you in return — if you don’t eat the dough.”

Hands up in defense, Gabriel promised, “I’ll wait. I did just say why I came, remember, sugar?”

“Yeah.”

Brushing off the term of endearment, you started scooping the cookie dough into small spheres. There was an after thought to make them bigger, but you challenged yourself to stick to the plan. Anything to keep your thoughts in place. You couldn’t exactly say the same on the fluttering in your stomach.

“Chocolate chip cookies.” Gabriel hummed in approval as he made his way to the other side of the counter.

“I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“Anything from you is my favorite.”

Grinning a little bashfully, you replied, “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say. I do save the best ones; hide any burnt cookies or crumbled brownies.”

“Now who’s the sweet one?” Gabriel leaned against the counter and lightly poked your shoulder.

“It’s all the baking, I guess.”

The heat creeping up your neck was almost as distracting as the feel of Gabriel’s honey-colored gaze.

Just make sure there’s chocolate chips in each one, you instructed yourself.

Doing your best to focus was usually so simple when baking. A fun activity to zone into. At that moment, you were unsure.

Behind you, the string on your apron had moved. Hardly noticeable. Yet you knew why.

“Are you entertaining yourself or are you trying to signal for a piece of cookie dough?” You peered over to your friend.

“I was thinking.” He dropped the fabric from between his fingers.

“Okay…”

You set aside the scooper and turned to Gabriel.

“I love your baking.”

You grinned briefly.

“And I,” he swallowed, “I’m grateful for your friendship and kindness and you.” Standing upright, he continued, “You make existing worth something.”

Upon opening your mouth to respond, no words came. Your mind was a fuzzy mess with most words blocked by you trying to sort out how you felt about his words and if you were about to overthink it all.

“You still don’t know, do you?” Gabriel asked softly.

Your brows pinched in curious confusion.

“Apparently not,” you noted.

Did you dare allow yourself to hope? To think he just might like you with your caring personality and unique curves as more than a friend?

You dearly hoped you weren’t reading him wrong. Either way, you were certain to hear something from your dear friend.

“What are you trying to say?” You asked, ever cautious of the thumping of your heart.

“Truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

His words resonated in the quiet of your home. Neither of you rushing to fill the air.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you breathed in deeply to center yourself.

This is real. Does he—

“I love you so much it’s almost ridiculous,” Gabriel continued. “I don’t know where to even begin.” He took a chance and grabbed your hand. “This is real and I hope I’m not a complete fool for thinking you might feel the same. Even a little.”

“You,” you covered a joyous laugh, “I’m ridiculous.”

He titled his head.

“I thought you didn’t like me that way.”

Stepping closer, Gabriel poked your nose, stating, “You are ridiculous for thinking that. How could I not fall for you, sugar? I have literally tripped when you’ve smiled. Not that I minded much.”

You shook your head with a fond smile and took hold of his other hand. Sighing, you confessed warmly, “I love you too.”

Honey-colored eyes had never appeared so bright.

~~~

(A/N: If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[drpeppertummy]

finally fed max after saying i was gonna like 84 years ago. very mild forgive me the next one will be more thrilling

[very mild hunger, very mild stuffing]

"Look at you, with your little summer tummy," Marsha giggled, slipping her arms around Max's waist from behind. The summer tummy was a rare sight. It only began to show up around July, and it was typically gone not long after the beginning of September. It was small, just barely enough to it for it to poke out against his shirt, but it was there: a tiny little pooch of proof that Max was, for a few months, relaxed enough to eat regularly. Right now it was particularly visible, peeking out ever so slightly beneath the hem of the little tank top that he usually only wore to bed.

"I bet we could get you lookin' nice and solid if you got yourself a new job," said Alfie. "Get a nice sit-down job, you'd get a good belly on you."

"Oh, please," grinned Max, rolling his eyes. "I have a sit-down job, they just don't let me sit down for it." He went on chopping vegetables, trying not to squirm at the tickly sensation of Marsha kneading that tiny bit of softness. Finally, he stopped and turned around in her arms.

"You are gonna make me chop my fingers off," he said, hugging her tight. He rested his chin atop her head. Alfie bumped him aside with his hip and took over the chopping.

"Hey, lovebirds, you're slackin' off."

"Hey, lovebird yourself. C'mere and gimme a kiss," said Max, leaning down to give Alfie a peck on the cheek. Alfie set down the knife and threw his arms around Max, pulling him down for a kiss and nearly toppling both him and Marsha over in the process.

"Alfie, you ape," exclaimed Marsha, laughing. Alfie leaned in and gave her a kiss too before releasing them. As he did, Max's belly rumbled softly. Alfie smiled and patted it.

"Come on, let's get this shit in the oven," he said, dumping the vegetables in the pan.

Together, the trio made an attractive dinner of roasted chicken and vegetables, primarily carrots and potatoes, laid out comfortably on each plate over a bed of rice. Marsha dished out the portions evenly while Max set the table and Alfie wiped down the counter. Three Marsha-sized portions meant, of course, that Max's was a hair too big for his appetite and Alfie's was a hair too small, but that was alright. There was plenty left in the pan, and Alfie could dip into it for seconds if finishing off Max's leftovers still failed to fill his bottomless stomach.

Max was hungrier than he'd thought. He'd eaten lunch earlier than usual that day, then spent a long afternoon straightening up the house, not that he ever let it get particularly un-straightened. Still, after hours of dusting, sweeping, and vacuuming, his stomach was growling eagerly for a bite of hot food, and he happily dug in. The tender chicken and flavorful vegetables were a welcome guest in his watering mouth, and even more welcome in his hungry belly.

"I may have put a little too much on your plate," said Marsha. "Although, who knows, maybe you've got room in there." She gave Max a friendly poke in the tummy.

"I don't know, that thing's pretty small," said Alfie with an impish smile. Max gave him a look of playful annoyance. "Hey, we'll work on it! Go on, get eating, we'll have you fattened up in no time." Max rolled his eyes and scooped up another forkful of rice.

It didn't take long for Max's hunger to be sated--he was never a big eater, after all--but he still had food on his plate and some space in his stomach, his capacity improved by eating more regularly than he did during the school year. Still enjoying the tasty homemade dinner, he went on eating where he might ordinarily have had to call it quits. He felt pleasantly full, and while there was a vague snugness blooming in his tummy, discomfort was not yet on the horizon.

"Hey, you're really going at it," remarked Marsha, impressed. "I didn't think you'd be able to finish that much!"

"Well, I know a couple of good cooks, and they make it hard to quit," said Max. He was admittedly beginning to feel pretty full now, but there was only a little bit left on his plate. He paused for a moment, considering his belly. It felt tight, but not uncomfortable. He let a tiny bit of swallowed air rise up and silently escape, and then he scooped up another bite.

The last few bites were more difficult to put away than the rest had been. Space was limited now in Max's full tummy, and each bite made it feel just a little bit tighter. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to finish after all, but, against all odds, he cleaned his plate.

"Hey, alright, Max!" Alfie gave him an approving thump on the back. It dislodged a sudden burp, and Max blushed, but Alfie just laughed.

Max didn't realize how much his belly was poking out until he stood up to clean. It was still smaller than both his partners' bellies even when they weren't full, but it was noticeable on his skinny frame, especially in his little tank top. There was more skin peeking out than there had been before, revealing a snug little bulge framed nicely between his hipbones. Marsha smiled and hugged him from behind, cupping his tummy in her hands. She was amused to find that some of the softness had been lost to the tautness of his full stomach.

"I can't believe you finished all that," she said, bumping her head against his shoulder. "You must be stuffed!"

"A little," he confessed. "It was good, though."

"Well, it makes me happy to see you eating more. You get so damn skinny during the school year!"

"I know, I know. I'll be better about it this year."

"Mm, I'll believe it when I see it," chuckled Marsha.

[copperbadge]

Not sure if it's the recipe, the triumph of practice, or the Adderall, but I think these are the first successful cookies I've baked in years.

Cookies are usually my weak spot; I used to refer to it as a curse, and often my cookie dough would go into the oven fine but then behave in the oven in ways that shouldn't even be possible. My favorite was the time they baked up fine, looked fine on the outside, but fell in the middle forming a hollow, soulless cookie "shell".

But I've made these oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies a few times now and every time they come out chewy and soft, just how I like them, and more or less retain their form. (The one thing I do differently is as soon as the dough comes together, before putting it in the fridge, I scoop the dough into cookie-sized "chunks" piled loosely in a tupperware, then chill it that way. The chunks maintain their shape and can easily be pulled apart to place on a cookie sheet.)

[ID: Two quarter-sheet baking pans lined in silpats; on the baking sheets are rows of smallish chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, very light colored, with slightly browned edges. They are very tall and look like they were scooped with an ice-cream scoop because they were.]