#day 10: baked goods

[hiddenbarinapocketdimension]

This morning sucked. Woke up at 7 on less than 5 hours of sleep to bake over 50 Eccles cakes. Didn’t have like half my ingredients. Bought more only to realise I still didn’t have them all. Burnt myself on the syrupy filling. Printer died on me as I was trying to get a printing job done. Forgot to have lunch I was so excited. Locked my car key in the boot. Waited an hour in the sun in all black to make sure I didn’t get a parking ticket whilst trying to get said key out. Got stuck in traffic for half an hour only to find I’d just moved under 100 metres. Accidentally had the thermostat cranked up to 40C the whole journey. All of this, just to get to a screening.

Then when I got there….

Shrimp emotions. The atmosphere was incredible. Got there 3 hours early. Immediately bonded with people, and it just felt so warm and exciting. I passed round the Eccles cakes in its little (very large) Antichrist basket. We all counted down with the timer waiting for the episodes to start. The episodes were amazing, and I have to thank @neil-gaiman for making this season come true - it was everything I hoped for and more, and I think that’ll be the case for pretty much everyone. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, even if I had to live through this morning 20x over.

Trust me when I say you’re not prepared for season 2. No one is.

Anyways here’s a picture of the cakes in their basket:

[illkeepthelightsoninthisplace]

ta da

[naomiknight-17]

The family visit yesterday really took it out of me... I've basically been napping all day. Most exhausted I've been in a good while and I didn't even do any cardio or anything

[maintitle]

The DA fandom is gonna be really interesting when I'm in my mid-to-late 40's and folks are talking about Veilguard like they talk about DA2 now.

[allsparks]

wish y'all lived closer so i could give you free chicken eggs bc we have more than we know what to do with

[elizabeth-mitchells]

hm i think it's one of those days where absolutely everthing went wrong. like i did the whole thing wrong. every little thing. i think this calls for just going to bed, pretending none of this happened and trying again tomorrow 😭

[robinsnest2111]

I was today years old when I learned you can use vacation days to pad out your meager paycheck if you worked very few days that month

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

Please forgive my random bursts of reblogging

I'm teaching an algorithm my favorite flavor of dopamine

[famewolf]

I return from a successful trip to Costco! Having my friend come with was definitely the way to go to help with over stimulation. We just talked and had a good time, instead of having to solo all the loud noises and people.

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[exopelagic]

I forgot how BRIGHT mornings are

[cinnamonssatoru]

— satoru x reader ♡

Satoru'd been wearing that same chain around his neck for the past 10 years. It was usually almost impossible to see, but the students had caught glimpses of it from time to time. In the middle of exorcising a curse, on a particularly hot day, when he was wearing that ridiculous shirt Yuji had made for him—but they could always see it most when Satoru was sitting alone. Quiet. He would reach up towards his neck and fiddle with the chain until it fell from the neckline, the pendant never visible due to his fingers rubbing it incessantly.

His face would always relax when he did it, the same way it seemed to relax whenever the admin girl from across the school's campus swung by. There were rumors about you, that you were in school with Satoru and were one step away from being a special grade sorcerer before the accident. None of the students ever had the courage to ask you directly, and they were always too distracted by the baked goods you loved to offer them to remember their train of thought. Satoru would smile when you came in; his shoulders would soften and his hand would find a home at your lower back that no one could see.

Megumi could see. Megumi knew all about you, though. He knew about you before and after the accident, and he knew what you meant to Satoru. He would never tell the others that many of the treats they so eagerly scarfed down, he had actually helped to make. And he would never tell them that he knew exactly what had happened to you. That was something he would keep forever.

On a random Tuesday, Nobara asked about the chain.

Satoru paused his fingers over the pendant—stilled for a moment before an easy smile crossed his face. "What, this old thing?"

"Yeah, sensei," Yuji spoke up. "You're wearing it all the time. You always mess with it when you're deep in thought."

"Do I really?" Satoru posed, bringing a hand up to his jaw. The chain was already tucked back into his collar. "I can't remember doing that."

"What? You do it all the time! Doesn't he, Fushiguro?"

Megumi only tsked. "Shut up, idiot."

Satoru's smile turned knowing. Megumi only rolled his eyes.

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[littlemissaddict]

Price with a pretty little misses that likes to bake. It started as a hobby with John taking the sweet treats into work for the rest of the task force who devoured them with pleasure. The boys telling him that she should start selling her bakes because of how good they were, she shrugged the praise off at first, just happy they enjoyed them but eventually she decided to take the plunge.

Starting at small markets, beaming with pride when people praised her bakes, until her little business started taking off. She hired someone to start doing deliveries for her, taking occasional collections from their home. The next step in the journey was to find a little store to rent out as she was begins to get too many orders to cope with running it from home but that seemed to be proving difficult so far so for now she continued as she was.

Though through it all, she still made sure there were sweet treats for John to take into work for his team so much so that Monday mornings they seemed to have been conditioned to expect the goodies. Only the Monday after John came back off leave, he returned with nothing for them.

"Sorry lads, got back late last night from a little break away for the misses. She works too damn hard," he apologised, leaving the rec room and towards his office.

Little did he know that Simon had managed to track down his wife's business and ordered some brownies to collect on his day off that week, unable to go a week without his fix of sweet treats.

So when the day rolled around Simon, as punctual as ever, turned up at 10 on the dot to collect his goodies. John on the other hand was surprised to see his Lt stood on his doorstep on his day off.

"What can I do for you Simon?" John asked, just as she came into view with the box of brownies in hand.

"Simon, is it?" She asked and he nodded in response as she handed him the box and took the money he handed her, "Sorry I'm a little unorganised this morning, been a little distracted" she apologised as she glanced over at John before looking for some change to give him from the twenty he had given her.

"S'alright love, keep it" Simon smiled, his gruff voice making her freeze, wondering if she'd heard him right. Simon hadn't missed her not so subtle glance at John, knowing just exactly what it was that she'd been insinuating, and he didn't blame him. Now Simon had seen her, he knew if she were his he'd keep her distracted at every chance he got. Not that he should be thinking that way about his Captain's wife and as observent as he was he'd missed that John had picked up exactly what he was thinking.

"Are you sure that's a big tip?" She asked, and when he nodded, she smiled in return, thanking him before he left, completely oblivious that John knew him as she had never met his team.

John however watch Simon closely back at base, especially as he sat eating one of the brownies. It didn't go unnoticed by Soap and Gaz either as they recognised the treat straight away, rounding on Price to ask why Simon had one of his wife's bakes but they didn't.

"Ask him yaself" Price retorted, leaving Simon to be hounded by the sergeants. That'll teach him to eye up my wife, Price thinks as he goes

[mysticlael]

Bat inco quotes

Roy, in Jason’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night? Jason, knocking Roy off: WHAT THE HELL?! Roy: Ow— Jason: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor! Roy: I had a nightmare. Jason: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old? Roy: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there- Jason, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL! Roy: That is not what I meant— Jason: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground! Roy: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too. Jason: Yeah, okay- Roy: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night? Jason: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while. Roy, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed! Jason: I did not consent to this- Roy, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden! Jason, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s five-foot-eleven, he’s got red hair- Roy: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it. Jason: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me. Roy: Oh, maybe together we could— Jason: NO. Roy: Just to save water— Jason: No! You don’t even pay for the water! Roy: …Good point.

Steph: *Texts a selfie to the group chat* Hey besties!! Jason: *Texts a selfie clearly parodying Steph's* hey besties !!1! Steph: I literally hate you so much.

Dick, holding a box of Lunchables: Ah, I loved these when I was your age… fine dining. Damian: Fix yourself.

Tim: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Steph: 'Prettiest Smile' Dick: 'Nicest Personality' Jason: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Cass: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Steph: Today at 7 am, Tim poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Dick: I watched Tim brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Damian: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

Damian, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Bruce: … Bruce: What’s in the box? Damian: What woul- Bruce: Damian, what’s in the box? Damian: I think you know.

Bruce: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Damian: Even better! Bruce: What the fuck did you- Damian: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

Tim: What are we gonna do?! Jason: Blame you?

*Dick comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Barbara’s bedroom.* Barbara: Dick, are you.. coming to bed? Dick: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Dick: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep* Barbara: ...

Roy: sapnu puaS. Kori: What?? Jason: What language is that? Roy: Turn your phone 180 degrees. *Roy was removed from the groupchat*

Kon, admiring a sleeping Tim: You’re so cute. Tim, sleepily: I could beat your ass. Kon, lovingly: I know.

Duke: How do those little boys on XBOX parties always know what slur to call you? Tim: They're empaths.

Steph: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Dick: No, that's not how you make cookies. Duke: FLOOR IT!! Jason: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Damian: YOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Steph: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Tim: DO IT! Bruce: NO-

Tim, at Kon: Would you like to stay for dinner? Bernard, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

Damian: What the fuck is with english teachers and being like; "write a story about a deep and personal memory that impacted your life". Ma'am, if I do that you're going to send me to the counselor's office.

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ DATING SAM WINCHESTER HEADCANONS

⭑.ᐟI’m finally back! Here’s dean’s version:) we’re like 10 followers away from being 200 on this blog, it means the world to me. Thanks for being so supportive x pls interact and send requests! :)

word count. 840

Supernatural masterlist/my full masterlist/support my work!

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⭑.ᐟHe loves getting you flowers any occasion he has. Because you live such an abnormal life, he likes to be normal with you from time to time. He’ll even take you on dates to see whatever movie looks good just so he can have one normal evening pretending you lead normal lives and aren’t hunters.

⭑.ᐟhe reads to you when you can’t fall asleep. He’s so precious because even if he’s exhausted he won’t go to bed until he knows that you’re asleep safe and sound next to him. So if you’re having a bad night and can’t fall asleep, he’ll tell you to lay on his chest and read to you whatever book he picks first, it doesn’t really matter because they’re all books that both of you love.

⭑.ᐟhe gets so distracted when you’re in the same room researching, whether it’s in a motel, the bunker, or even a library, usually he can’t stop looking up and staring at you which makes researching very hard because he can’t concentrate.

⭑.ᐟhe loves rough sex but he needs sweet and slow love making from time to time. If he’s too tired but he wants you, or on days where you’re both sore from the hunt but need each other in desperate ways.

⭑.ᐟon the other hand, when it’s rough, the aftercare is so awesome it’s almost just as good as the sex. You won’t have to lift a finger. Need water? Sam’s got it. Need a hot shower? He’ll even wash your body, you only have to stand there. The cuddling is great, he hates not holding you.

⭑.ᐟcar sex🤭 he loves that. He’d be capable of renting a car just so he can take you right in the backseat.

⭑.ᐟokay.. so counter sex? Like on a kitchen counter? On the table? If he wants you? He’ll take you right then and there. SHOWER SEX? Now that’s something Sam craves almost everyday.

⭑.ᐟhe’ll never miss a chance to tell you he loves you and how important you are to him. Like it’s almost annoying in ways that he ALWAYS tells you as if you don’t know. You think it’s cute though. He needs you to know that he desires you, and wants you. He finds A LOT of different ways to make you feel special, he’s great at it.

⭑.ᐟhe loves cooking with you. Even baking. Doesn’t matter what it is, as long as he can throw some flour on you and make fun of you, or as long as he’s just with you in this moment he doesn’t mind doing literally anything because he enjoys your company too much and he hates being away from you.

⭑.ᐟhe’s so clingy… it’s very cute but when I say clingy I mean CLINGY AF!!!!!!!!

⭑.ᐟhe loves long mornings by your side laying in bed. Exhibit A. He gets to kiss you, hold you without a single worry in the world. He gets to enjoy that time before you both get into dangerous situations while hunting.

⭑.ᐟhe won’t admit it but he loves watching horror movies. Even the bad, stupid ones. Like I think he’s genuinely a horror fan. Maybe not so much of a gore fan, but ghosts and slashers. Ghosts specifically so he can nitpick and point out everything they do wrong because he obviously knows how to take care of them. It’s so funny.

⭑.ᐟif you’re small, he’ll take pride in his height and tease you about it all the time because he’s just so much taller.

⭑.ᐟhe loves holding your hand. Doesn’t matter if it’s just under the table at dinner, across the table when researching, in bed even while sleeping, he has to hold your hand. It brings him comfort and eases his stress and nerves for some reason.

⭑.ᐟthere’s not a single thing you’ve told him that he forgot. Whether it’s things you like or dislike, habits, embarrassing stories from when you were a child… he has it all kept in a drive in his head. He never wants to forget.

⭑.ᐟhe adores stargazing with you. Like he’ll be looking at the stars, then look down on you. You’ll be so concentrated on the sky, he’ll take his time to really stare at you, take in your features and realize how much he loves you. If you happen to catch him staring, you’ll laugh, say ‘what?’ And he’ll get super flustered and embarrassed. He’ll be like ‘nothing, you’re just beautiful.’ blush and look away AHHHHHHH

⭑.ᐟif you happen to be sick… he’ll be very happy. He hates that you’re sick- but taking care of you might be his favorite thing ever and sometimes you don’t let him. Now that you’re sick- you can’t refuse his care, so he’ll do every single little thing he knows you like. He’ll buy you tons of things to make you feel better, he’ll hold you even when you protest because you don’t want him to get sick. You being sick might just be his favorite time with you. He’s a weird guy. EXHIBIT B!!