#i was making banana pancakes when i though of this can you tell

[flwrkid14]

Had the silliest idea while making breakfast.. what if Damian’s Favorite Brother is Tim, but for the Dumbest Reason...pancakes

My idea is that Tim is Damian’s favorite brother, but not for the reasons one might expect. It’s not because of Tim’s skill, his smarts, or his ability to stay three steps ahead in every fight. Nope. Damian’s real reason for favoring Tim over Dick, Jason, or even Bruce is much simpler.

It’s because Tim makes the best pancakes. Like, legendary pancakes.

Not even kidding.

One morning, Tim casually whips up a batch of pancakes in the kitchen—y’know, because Alfred’s off running errands and the rest of the family doesn’t know the first thing about breakfast beyond opening a box of cereal, and Tim's been feeding himself since he was six. So Tim steps up to the stove, and bam—fluffy, golden stacks of heaven.

Damian, who never really cared for breakfast, takes one bite of Tim’s pancakes and is sold. From that moment on, he’s obsessed.

“Drake, you will make me those pancakes again tomorrow."

And Tim just blinks, completely confused, but shrugs it off like, “Uh, sure?”

The next morning, Damian’s right there in the kitchen, bright and early, waiting for his daily dose of pancake perfection. By the third day, he’s even dragging a chair next to Tim, watching like a hawk as Tim cooks, making sure he’s using the right ingredients.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Batfamily is just like, “Really? This is the thing that bonds them?”

Tim, being Tim, just rolls with it. He doesn’t ask questions. If Damian wants pancakes, Damian gets pancakes. He’s just trying to survive his new role as “Pancake Master.”

But Damian? Oh, he’s serious about this.

Damian tells anyone who will listen that Tim is the only one who knows how to make breakfast properly. He’ll give the other brothers side-eye anytime they dare to suggest they could cook for him. Even Alfred raises an eyebrow, but Damian’s already set: Tim’s pancakes or nothing.

What’s even funnier is that when Damian gets pissed off at anyone, he refuses to eat their cooking. But Tim? Untouchable. The one person who can screw up as many times as he wants and still be in Damian’s good graces—because those pancakes? Irreplaceable.

So, while the Batfamily argues over strategy, patrols, or who gets to drive the Batmobile, Damian's priorities are clear:

"You’re all amateurs. Drake’s the only one who makes pancakes worthy of the Wayne name.”

And now, Tim’s been promoted to Damian’s favorite brother for the silliest reason imaginable. But hey, if the key to Damian’s heart is pancakes, Tim’s got that title locked down.

[bee-wg]

Year 1:

“I’m telling you, man. You just need to drink the protein shakes Dad and I have. Don’t worry about the taste, they’re banana chocolate flavoured. It’s actually quite delicious when you get used to the texture. Then you’ll just need to go to the gyms a few times a week to get these bad boys.” I said, flexing my 16-inch arms.

“Oh, and I can make protein pancakes!  Maybe I can add it to other pastries too. It’ll be healthy, useful and delicious. I bet your mom could never have thought of that.” He said smugly.

“Dude, focus. Why does everything have to be cooking with you?” 

“Sorry, I got too excited there. It’s just that I haven’t made breakfast you guys liked, it’s completely her territory. For now. Maybe If I make this, you guys will eat it.”

”You know we’ll have to finish whatever you both end up cooking anyway, right?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t count. I want you to eat it because you like it.” The man said, just when I thought he was sane.

”Well that’s irrelevant. Don’t you think it’s a great idea?” He asked.

Even though he’s a maniac, I have to admit.

“I guess it’s not bad, I don’t have to drink and eat at the same time. Just don’t make too much, you get easily full with those things.”

“Don’t worry about it man. Don’t you have morning football practice to burn off the calories?”

“Alright, just don’t put raisins in there. I heard somewhere that they make you dehydrated.”

I shoo him out of the door and start undressing. Contemplating on a compression shirt or an oversized Tee, my head starts running. I am objectively muscular, but compared to the guys at the gym, I’m nothing. I don’t think I’m big enough yet. Oversized Tee it is then. 

Grabbing my duffle, I ran downstairs. Then, the scent of banana chocolate sweets blasted my face. 

“Morning Jay, come try it out. This is really good.” Dad called out with his mouth half full.

I picked up the buttered pancake. It smells nice, with some cherry scent in there too.

“Dang, this is not bad, Pumpkin,” I shouted to him in the kitchen.

“Right? And with more space in the stomach for drinks, you can try Chloe’s fruit smoothie.” Dad said.

“Don’t worry sweetie, the fruits are from the farmers market so it’s healthy.” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

Looking back at the breakfast, it’s a bit more bulky than usual, but I’m gonna work it off in the morning drill anyway.

Without more hesitation, I dug into the full plate of pancakes and blueberry whipped cream.

“Sweetie, you’re already done? I have more in the back.” Mom said

“She really stepped up her game, right?” Dad chimed in.

“It was awesome mom. Thank you, and help me thank Theo too. But I really need to go now. The practice starts in 30.”

“Alright sweetie, stay safe and don’t be late. I’ll have David finish off the rest.”

“Wait, me? But there’s so much!” Dad whined.

“Love you Mom, love you dad, gotta go.”

I rushed out of the house with the faint sound of their replies.

I felt bad for Dad, since school started, I’ve been leaving the leftovers to him because of school. More often than not, Theo and Mom would overcook and we would be left with more food than we know how to deal with. So Dad would take his usual time for morning runs to finish it before going to work. I need to make it up to him somehow. I guess I could offload his burden by eating more on the weekends.

The practice went as well as it could with my stomach full of pancakes; although Coach thought I had a lot of potential with all the fumbles. Probably because Dad was a star quarterback here back in his days.

“You just need to get used to the team dynamic here, then it will all be fine, Jacob. Don’t sweat it,” Coach said.

It was easier said than done. Someone literally asked me how long my dick was, then groped my pec. At least in high school, people had the decency of being embarrassed.

Maybe I do need to chill off. Go to the club like they said. I do have the biggest pecs out of everyone after all. And I heard people like big glutes, so maybe someone would want me.

It took me a month to search up a club. I was not stalling. Then, another month to put the address into Google Maps. I was busy. Homework has been rough, the professor hates me and Theo needs me to restock. Nonetheless, I finally have time now.

Yay.

Putting on Dad’s old Beige Polo, I look pretty good. The shirt hugs my muscles too much for comfort, but it’s the one day of the month I’m supposed to look like a slut. The light is going to be dimmed anyway.

Fishing for the keys, my hand found some candied fruit on the stand. The guy even knows how to make candies from leftover fruits, who even does that? I grabbed some to put it in my mouth. 

On my way out I caught a glimpse of my father in the kitchen. He’s been starting to brew homemade beers with steady progress.

“Oh, Jay! You’re going out? You got a date, yeah?”

He turned back, revealing the newly grown beer belly.

“What?! Of course not. It’s the shirt right? I look like a try hard.”

”Haha, be careful whose shirt you’re insulting. That was my lucky shirt.” 

He misunderstood, I just thought I would look half as in place as he looks if I wear this. I really shouldn’t go. 

”You’ll be alright son, you’re a charming young man. People will see that.”

My eardrums are fucking gushing blood.

The Club sound rattled through my bones as random guy number six and random chick number four came.

Dad was right. I was quite charming, TOO charming, even.

“Oh my gosh look at those arms,” running her hand, Random chick number four said.

“He probably has killer abs too. Wanna come home with me tonight, Jock boy?” Random guy number six said.

“Sorry man, I’m straight. I also have a friend waiting for me in the car.” I replied.

“Aww man, too bad. I wanted a dumb jock to rail me tonight.” He said while walking off. Seriously, what is up with people these days?

At least I still have my 16 dollar margarita with me in the corner.

Lost in my head, a potential random guy number seven approaches.

“Hey, what’s a hot guy like you doing in the corner?” Number seven asked.

“Sorry, I’m straight.”

“Ahh, my bad. Worth a shot,” He said.

“Man, why is every Dad bod fuck boys straight? Gay people are too obsessed with their bodies to have the look,” he added.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.”

My 16 dollar margarita was spilt.

“Oh, Shit. Sorry I don’t know what to do.” I’m glad to not have a friend in my car waiting to see me embarrass myself.

“Don’t worry man, I’ll handle it.” Number seven said.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I have a Dad bod, is a fuck boy, or even gay. But the guy he described is the kind of masculine, wild man I aspire to be. Not a shit given to what people think. Maybe I can be that guy tonight. 

“Sorry I’m not the Dad bod fuck boy you thought I was.” 

I already butchered it. Why the hell did I say that? That’s not what a guy without a care in the world would say.

“What if you are.” He reached under my polo and grabbed my abs. Or softer abs, cause he’s clearly grabbing something.

“But I’ve never done this before,” Holy shit, I need to shut the fuck up.

“No worries, you just need to sit back and enjoy.”

I look back at the rotting toilet. Maybe not sit.

“We’re gonna make this quick, alright?” He said. Then gave my stomach a quick squeeze. 

I’m telling Mom and Theo to cut back on the food tonight.

He slid down the zipper and tugged on my dick.

“You’re not who I imagined to be, but I like pathetic boys like you too.” He said.

“Wait, what? I - fuuuck.”

He uses his thumb to twirl around my cock head; then the freak proceeds to lick my stomach pudge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I involuntarily groaned. 

“Hahaha, seems like it would be quicker than I thought.”

He laughed. Fucking laughed at me. And my dick is harder than ever before.

Then, out of nowhere. He grabbed my ass and sucked half of my length in.

“Holy sh-“ I yelped 

He covered his left hand on my mouth and said hushly. “Jesus, fuck boy! Do you want everyone to hear? I mean it’s hot, but we’ll get kicked out.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just ohhhhhh.”

He sucked the entire length in as I got into his throat. It’s cold for a second with the air being sucked, then it warms up my dick as I get closer to the edge.  And, wait, did I just moan out loud?

Didn’t give me a chance to breathe, he repeated the motion again and again.

I’m really close.

“Not yet fuck boy.” He said as he guided my hand to my pec.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“Twist your nipples and do not stop until we’re done.” 

Strange request, but it seemed like there was a lot I didn’t know, so I complied.

“I thought only women like this?” I asked as I squeezed my nipples.

He immediately got back to work as if telling me to shut the fuck up.

Then, I feel it. 

It might be the cold air conditioning or the fact that I have my cock in someone’s fucking mouth, but my nipples perked up and got sensitive all of a sudden. 

He starts to squeeze and rub my stomach as my senses overload.

Once in a while, he would come up with a remark or two.

“I bet you’re the kind of guy that likes to sit around, munch all day, let other people take charge and fuck you,” He said.

”I bet your bubble butt will grow twice as big by the end of the year because you hate the gym deep down,” He said.

It all doesn’t make sense. I only have five, ten tops of weight added, but my dick gets even harder.

“Come on, fuck boy. Twist those fat tits for me,” he said as the sucking picks up the pace.

“Fuck yeah, my fat tits.” It’s all too much for me to form a thought.

“Fuck my fat ass too.”

“Yeah, faster!”

He gave my slight belly a final squeeze as I cummed harder than I’d ever experienced.

I can feel my dick still shooting out cum as I blacked out.

Someone is wiping me.

Oh, right.

“Great, you’re up.” Random man said.

”Huh?”

“It got real messy, eh?” He continues.

“Sorry, I got carried away earlier. You’re just so hot.”

It seems like he’s not going to stop talking.

“You’re obviously still a jock, but hey. A man can dream,” he said

“You’ve got some real potential, kid.” He patted my apparently now-existing belly and said.

I don’t get it. I’ve been eating more than usual lately, and Theo’s snacks don't help, but mom got the ingredients from the farmers market, so they were definitely healthy. Maybe I am missing something else.

“Here,” he hands me a small piece of paper.

“Call me if you want to do this again.”

Then just like that, the strange man leaves.

I didn’t give a second glance at the piece of paper before throwing it in the trash can.

Against my better judgment, I put my hand back in the disgusting trash can.

No harm in keeping it.

The stranger’s words ring in my head as I put an undisclosed sum of money on margaritas.

Maybe I do like being taken care of.

***

My phone vibrated for the thousandth time today, almost causing an earthquake. 

“Aggggah, leave me aloneeee. Help me baby Jesus.”

The alcohol from last night, plus the vibration is enough to kill a bear.

Opening the over-lit phone, I see Theo’s happy ginger face.

Theo: Hey Jay, could you help me buy a cookbook I want at the mall, asap? 

Me: kys❤️

Mom: Jacob, could you explain the language? 

Shit, it's the family chat! 

Me: It means keeping yourself safe, mom. I'll go to the mall in a bit!

Theo, the little bastard, replied with a laughing emoji.

Brushing my teeth, I saw myself in the mirror. 

Definitely can’t unsee it now. I still have some abs definitions, it’s just pushing out now.

I hesitated, looking at the protein ice cream sandwich mom prepared for me. 

Well, I do need something to settle my stomach from the alcohol. Plus, protein is always healthy.

Grabbing a few more ice cream sandwiches, I made my way to the bus.

The mall is located in the middle of nowhere. Nobody comes here except for Costco. Apparently there’s a chain book store too.

Finding the book has been proven difficult. Half the store sells stationery, and the other half sells boring books nobody wants. There is no reason for the store to be this huge.

By the time Theo, the brat, had confirmed the book, it was already past two. 

“Hello, excuse me. Is there no restaurant here whatsoever?” I asked the book nerd from the counter.

“Ahhhhh, there’s ahh fast food down the lane, to um, the right?”

“Alright, thanks.” Looks like I’m going to starve myself until I get back.

Going to the bus station, I pass the fast food place. They must have had a rebranding these couple of years. They used to smell like kids puke. Now… it smells like some sweet apple pie, fries, or chicken nuggets? Yeah, definitely some chicken nuggets. Haven’t had them in years. 

No. I must not get carried away.

Dad said fast foods are not real food. Ever since he watched the Super Size Me documentary, he banned the whole family from eating fast food, and I thank him for it every day. 

Today will be an exception. This will be my reward for going through everything that happened this week.

“So, we have a discount for everyone who uses our app. You can also get points for a free meal in the app.” The fat ass cashier asked.

“Yeah, why not. I could save a few.” Not like I’m going to use it after this.

My hands end up with a combo of fries, burger, nuggets and a medium soda.

While enjoying the smell of garbage goods, I catch a glimpse of an obese guy sitting in the corner. 

He looks. Wait, it’s Avery Lancaster.

Holy shit it’s true. He did gain 70 pounds and some more. Looks like he’s in his 300s now.

The image of his fat ass hanging off the seat brought me back to reality.

I will not eat at this restaurant ever again after this meal, so I won’t end up like him. 

Except for the fries. The fries are too good to pass.

For The rest of the semester, things went as well as they could.

Homework has been piling up, the professor still hates me, so I have less time to hit the gym.

Sports are enough for me so stay fit anyway.  At least until next year’s spring season starts. 

Coach has been supportive of my decision to bulk up. He just gave me an ominous warning about off-season athletes bulking too much.

When the Thanksgiving holiday came, I was ready to go on a diet. 

After the holidays.

Because mom has seriously improved her skills, and, as much as I don’t wanna say it, Theo’s food is basically tailored made to my taste. They might just be.

I have a sneaking suspicion that they are using Dad and I as testing metrics for their little competitions. Just a suspicion. Because recently Theo started focusing on making food for me, Mom began to make food primarily for Dad.

The suspicious duo seem to have the belief that weight equals love. If that is the case, I am truly screwed. There is no one but dead people who can resist Theo’s cooking. I’ve even been brainwashed to think Theo’s food rants are interesting, that’s how powerful he is.

By the end of the Christmas dinner, I could tell that Theo had probably lost in their competition by the look on his face. I almost felt bad for not eating enough. 

It's not like the food wasn’t good; my opponent is Dad. His appetite is unmatched. At the beginning of the year, he barely eats anything for breakfast while keeping his plant-based diet. Now he’s an absolute beast, he can inhale 15 pancakes at the speed of sound. Whatever I’ve gained this year, Dad probably has gained twice as much.  He also grew out his beard and body hair which I struggle to do. There is literally no better definition of man than him.

After the Christmas dinner, I went up to assess the damage. 

Twenty-two pounds of flabby fat gained this year.

Why don’t I at least look like Dad with a firm, rounded gut? Instead, mine grows around the underbelly, looking like a soft fanny pack.

I need to stop thinking about this. I’m still muscular after all. 215 is nothing compared to the guys on the team.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.” His voice echoed in my head.

Deleting the notifications from the fast food app, I opened the phone and dialled the number for Random Guy number 7.

Chapter 2 ->

[angelbaby-fics]

Happy Birthday, Baby!

CG!Stucky x Gender Neutral Little!Reader x Little!Peter

Word Count: 800

A/N: I've received a few requests for Daddies with a little reader who has a tough time on their birthday, and what better day to write this than my best friend's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY @shiny-purple-pizza-eater!!!! ilysm!!! 💕🎂🎁

You weren’t even fully awake yet, but you were filled with a sense of safety and love. Steve had joined you in your bed, playing with your hair as you slowly adjusted to consciousness, making the transition from sleep to waking much easier than if you’d been alone. You both knew what day it was, and how hard that was for you. 

“Happy birthday, angel,” Steve whispered as your eyes began to flutter open. 

You scrunched your face up at this, even though you knew he meant well.

“Don’t want it, daddy,” you whined, voice laden with sleep. 

“I know baby, but I promise it's gonna be a good day. We can do as much or as little as you want.” He ran his thumbs over your cheeks lightly, his eyes full of love and sincerity.

“Just wanna stay here,” you mumbled, burying yourself further into the covers and into Steve. He wrapped his strong arms around you.

“That’s okay, we can stay here as long as you need to.”

You stayed like that for a while, Steve’s hands rubbing up and down your back as you just breathed, taking in the moment as much as you both could. The serenity was only interrupted when a sweet smell made its way to your nose. Steve noticed you furrowing your eyebrows as you sniffed the air like a puppy dog. “You smell that, angel? I think Baba and Petie are making breakfast! Do you wanna go help them?” He asked.

“Just wanna watch,” you replied.

“Of course we can watch, babydoll. You’re so good at speaking up for yourself.”

Steve got out of the bed first and scooped you up in his arms, your blanket still wrapped around you. You rested your cheek on your daddy’s shoulder as he carried you down the hallway and into the large kitchen of your family’s home. There, Peter was sitting on the counter stirring a big bowl with a wooden spoon while Bucky poured some batter into a pan. Peter looked up at you first, and his face lit up. Steve could tell he was about to shout with excitement, and held a finger to his lips. Peter got the memo, understanding of how tired you must be just waking up, so he toned down his energy as much as he could.

“Happy birthday, bubba!!” He giggled, putting down the bowl to wave at you and catching Bucky’s attention. He turned away from the stove for just a few moments, his face lighting up at you.

“Good morning, doll, happy birthday!” He said before turning back to the cooking pancake. 

You waved back at them both with a soft smile, still not energized, but your mood was already a bit brighter. Steve walked you over to Bucky, sharing a kiss with his husband before repositioning you on his hip so you could see the pan on the stove. The circle of batter started to bubble, and Bucky flipped it over perfectly. The smell of chocolate chips melting into the pancakes made your stomach grumble. 

“Can I put you in your high chair so I can cut up some banana for you?” Steve whispered into your ear, to which you nodded.

“No strings, pwease,” you requested.

“Of course, babydoll.” Steve carried you to your high chair, still visible to the kitchen, and strapped you in nice and snug. He turned back to grab some fruit for you, but first he saw Peter looking up with his arms outstretched. 

“Oh yeah? You wanna keep the birthday kiddo some company?” He asked. “We gotta ask first, okay” Steve helped Peter down from the counter and held his hand over to the dining room where you sat. “Hey angel, do you need some alone time or do you want your big brother to entertain you while you wait for breakfast?”

“Petie pwease!”

With Peter by your side at the dining table, it felt like no time at all before your daddies joined you with a heaping plate of warm chocolate chip pancakes and freshly cut fruit. Just before sitting down, Bucky put his hand up in the air as if remembering something. “Hang on, hang on. Now someone very special has a very special day today, so I think we should celebrate by having a very special breakfast today.” He announced, turning back to the kitchen and retrieving a big cam of whipped cream from the refrigerator. “Tada!”

Bucky used the can to draw a heart on your stack of pancakes, and a smiley face on Peter's. The delicious breakfast and time spent with your favorite people brightened up your morning significantly, and you started to think about fun things you might want to do with them that day. Your birthday hadn’t always been a day you looked forward to, but each year you were reminded just how loved and appreciated you were by the people around you.

[leodette]

well, part 2 for you! pretty sure this will actually turn into a series as I have some ideas :) your support and interactions are always welcomed! love you :*

**********

I Never Wanna See You Walk Away | LN4 | Part 2

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Lando Norris x OC (not named)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: pancake 'date'

warning: age difference (older woman x younger man)

requested: yes / no

**********

Strawberry pancakes were considered a success. Both Mila and Maxie stuffed their mouths full of the sweet snack, their crash earlier that day long forgotten.

Lando smiled at his little niece. She was basically her dad reborn, the blonde curls making her look like an angel. Only looking though. When they entered the bistro and found a place, Mila insisted on sitting next to her new young friend, while smiling brightly at Max’s aunt. Those two were gigling when the menus were brought to them, Mila’s eyes wide as she looked at the older woman who pointed out different options. The orders were made, Lando getting himself only a cup of cappuccino and her banana split plate, while the kids excitedly talked about the animals.

"Have you ever seen Uncle Lando race, Mila?" the question came, and Lando nearly choked on his coffee, turning towards the little girl and waiting for what she would say.

But Mila only nodded her head, mostly because her mouth was full of strawberries and whipped cream, with a little bit of it sticking to her nose. Lando was about the wipe it off, but his company was quicker, and in no time the kids were talking between themselves again.

"You're good with kids," he murmured towards her, and she only smirked, a small crow feet appearing in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh heck no. Max and my other nephew are the only exceptions. I always steal them away, stuff them full of sugar and return them safely to their respective parents," she smiled and cut off a piece of her banana split.

When they arrived, it started raining outside again, and she shrugged off her rain coat, leaving her in a soft looking grey blouse with a very tastefully deep V neckline. Not too much so her cleavage wasn't right in Lando's nose, but also revealing enough that his imagination was busy making scenarios. And so he now watched, almost hypnotized, how she put the fork in her mouth, her lips closing around it, that damned smirk still on her face and her eyes not leaving his. She knew damn well what she was doing, and Lando prayed to all Gods he knew that she would keep doing it. She quietly asked the waiter for a second fork and gently pushed the plate in his direction.

"C'mon, one banana with chocolate will not wreck your diet plan," she continued smiling, although her eyes softened, and handed him the fork.

Lando felt a sudden warmth in his stomach. No one in a very long time offered to share a piece of basically a junk food with him, all afraid that he would have problem with his diet. But this woman did not. Instead she turned the plate so the bigger piece was in front him, and then patted her nephew's hair, leaving the man in her company with his thoughts for a milisecond.

"So, I guess you probably want a break from all the race talk, right?" her raised eyebrows prompted him to hum in agreement, his eyes drifting to the plate as he cut a piece of the dessert. Lando had summer break, more importantly the two week mandatory leave.

"Technically I'm not even supposed to think racing. Sorry," he smiled back at her, and she chuckled.

"But you can tell me what you do. Since it's quite unfair you know my job," he pointed the fork at her, the second too early for him to understand that it could be considered rude. He knew her for what, an hour maybe? But she seemd a good sport about it. Her fork remained on the table as she pushed the plate completely in front of him, winking at the younger driver before grabbing his coffee cup and taking a sip, then leaning back. Lando was speechless. Someone else could consider it too straightforward. Maybe a bit over the line. But him? No. Mostly because he did that quite a lot to women as well. This time though, his own game turned against him.

"Well, I work for the local travel agency, and do a part-time dj at PRYZM," the smile didn't leave her face when Lando's jaw dropped.

"Wait... you're a dj?" he stumbled, being caught totally off guard. Of all jobs he could think of, playing in a night club wasn't one of them.

"Shocking, right? Who would've thought that on a brim of my thirties I would play for eighteen-year-olds," she chuckled and shrugged, clearly not giving a damn about what people think.

Lando's mind was completely blank. He couldn't imagine the elegantly-dressed woman opposite him behind the mixing board. And his mind continued to produce images. What would she wear? How would she behave? What beats would she play? ... How would she look after her part? Sweaty? Breathless?

"Lost for words?" she raised her eyebrows, one corner of her lips taunting him before she turned to Mila and helped her cut the leftover strawberry in half, Lando's niece immediately taking the other half and putting in on Max's plate.

"I... I'm sorry, you just surprised me," he shook his head, trying to shake the not so pg13 images from his mind.

She waved her hand and took her bag from underneath the chair, rummaging through it for a second before taking out a square of paper and a pen. She scribbled something at the shiny white back of it before sliding it towards him, that seducive smile not leaving her face for even a second. Lando felt like a mouse who just ran into a particularly mischevious cat. Real-life Tom and Jerry.

"Well, maybe real experience will help you," she added, mentioning to the paper before turning back to the children. Lando took it.

It was a pamphlet from PRYZM, the local night club. With a date. And a name. He turned it over. +44 .... .......

"You're welcome to come and see. There's a private booth for my eventual guests. Never used it," she motioned to the paper, almost careless, like she was just talking about the weather.

But Lando knew. Seemed like he had plans for Saturday evening.

Previous - Next

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.01 A Big Splash

It's a typical Saturday morning, and as usual, I slept in. As hard as it is to drag myself out of bed, I know I have things to do today, so into the shower I go.

While I'm getting ready, I can't help but reflect on my recent birthday. It's hard to believe how much has happened over my lifetime, or even just in the past 10 years. In a lot of ways, I still feel like that same kid who thought he knew everything but had so much to learn. If I could go back and tell him what was about to happen in his life, I don't think he'd believe me. Sometimes, I still don’t believe it.

As I head downstairs, I hear the familiar sound of Paul stirring something in a bowl and briefly wonder what he's making before chuckling to myself. I already know it's pancakes. It's always pancakes, but I can't complain about the predictability when I know they're going to be delicious. 

I make it downstairs and the girls are so busy helping that they don't even notice I've come down.

Well, Rachel is helping, at least. She has her own bowl and is standing on the footstool at the island stirring away. Chelsea, however, can't be trusted with anything that we plan to eat unless I'm there to supervise. Otherwise we run the risk of having a secret ingredient–toddler slobber or animal hair or whatever else has ended up on her grubby little hands. 

I sneak up behind her and give her a little tickle. She turns around. “Dada!” she squeals, as I scoop her up and give her a squeeze.

“Good morning, my loves,” I say.

“Dada, we’re making pancakes!” Rachel tells me, as though I should be surprised by this revelation. 

“I see that. I can’t wait to try them.” 

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” Paul asks me. “We’re out of bananas, but we have plenty of blueberries and strawberries.”

I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I'm in the mood for some of this,” I say, and he turns his head to meet my lips.

 “Lucky for you, there’s always plenty of that.”

Rachel and Paul finish the pancakes and we all scarf them down. It’s times like this when I wish we had more space. There’s not enough room for a dining table in our townhouse.

Chelsea insists she doesn’t need a high chair but can’t reach the barstools, so she ends up having most of her meals on the couch. Which is why the pillows smell like maple syrup and feel sticky.

Once we’ve finished breakfast, Rachel has a request. “Can we go to the splash pad? Please?

“Yeah, Dada, pwease?” Chelsea echoes. How can I say no to that?

The splash pad isn’t far but we have to drive, which means packing up everything we need and getting the kids secured in their seats. And of course, they want our dog Tucker to come with us.

Once we arrive, though, it’s worth all the effort. The girls love splashing around in the water...and yeah, so do Paul and I. 

“This was a good idea,” I tell Paul once we take a little break from the water.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. We should do this more often, especially now that Chelsea’s getting older.”

“True, it’s a lot easier going out now that she’s not a baby anymore. Although…”

Paul sighs. “John,” he warns. He knows exactly what I’m hinting at.

“I’m just saying, she’s getting so big. I miss having a baby around.”

“So do I, but it would be much harder to have days like this with a newborn. Besides, we barely have space in the house for the four of us.”

“Exactly. We’re already outgrowing the house, so we might as well upgrade to something bigger and fill it with more babies.”

I gesture over to a lot across from the splash pad. “Look how close the Hopewell Commons expansion is. They have bigger units there. If we lived there we could just walk to the splash pad. Imagine how much the kids would love that.”

“Well, there has to be a unit available first,” Paul points out. “But I suppose we can let Gail and Ellie know we’re interested so they can let us know when something opens up.”

“Cool. So baby time?”

“I’m not saying no, but can we think about it a little more?”

“Yeah sure,” I agree. Sometimes Paul’s need to consider every possible angle before making a decision can be a bit frustrating, but I have to admit it’s helpful to have someone to reel me in sometimes. It’s a nice balance–a little chaotic, a little structured, and a lot of fun. 

Once again my thoughts turn to the past. Paul and I have been together for almost 10 years now. When I turned 20, I had no idea that my roommate would end up being my husband. That was certainly a year of discovery for me. And with a new home and a new baby possibly on the horizon, year 30 is shaping up to be quite an adventure as well. 

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Bonus pics below!

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

things that remind me of the nerdy prudes

(because like two people reblogged this one i did forever ago for the losers and i forgot how fun these are)

grace:

getting veggie tales songs stuck in your head as an adult, knee socks, eating all your broccoli, sparkly butterfly clips, watching sunlight glint off a lake through the treeline, guinea pigs, friendship bracelets off a water bottle, being secretly glad when someone you don’t like turns out to be a bad person, a bunch of cellophane candy wrappers crinkling at the bottom of your purse, being a little too into archery at summer camp, pastel bible highlighters, banana pancakes, tying way too many ribbons around the advent wreath, leggings under dresses, daydreaming about how you’d escape if you ever got kidnapped, strawberry ice cream, roller skating with almost too much protective gear on, cloud gazing, obvious family secrets that everyone refuses to tell you, feeling weirdly guilty for ordering your steak rare, bringing too many swaps to girl scout camp so you can trade with everyone, asking a new friend for their email address, long denim skirts

steph:

really dry liquid lipstick you bought in your freshman year of high school but refuse to throw out, 24 hour diners, typing in all lowercase but never actually changing the setting in your phone, listening to music you hate but gaslighting yourself until you enjoy it, really dark purple nail polish that looks black, collecting crystals even though you don’t really believe in them, saying your team bella (but secretly being team jacob), getting mad your vape was confiscated at your high school graduation, one million rings, coffee ice cream, tinfoil in a microwave, exclusively wearing sports bras, shoplifting, pink monster, thinking cigarettes are really hot, never wearing a jacket even if your cold, penny boarding, drinking four loko, regretting four loko, refusing to put your hair up even when you really should, kuromi, half fallen down led lights, playing your mom’s old guitar, sour skittles

pete:

planetariums, being overly competitive at board games, ginger ale, using a chapstick until it runs out, really liking marshmallows, really liking hot chocolate, hating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, buying a bunch of cool notebooks and never using them, forever dm, pretending you didn’t find asdf movies as funny as you actually did, m&ms, freezing cold hands, hand-me-down sweaters, only ordering chicken fingers and french fries, being intrinsically trusted by cats, carrying a clarinet to school every day, skipping episodes of next gen if they don’t feature data, praying on the first day of school that your teachers didn’t have your older sibling, transition glasses lenses (that you absolutely regret), dry krave cereal, secretly finding most museums really boring, grow-your-own-geode science kits, wing tip tap shoes, messenger bags, only doing extracurriculars that look good on college applications

ruth:

your comfort gay newsies fanfiction from middle school, being jealous of your younger sibling, those phone cases with glitter and charms floating in water, team edward and team jacob, wishing you hadn’t quit dance, buying fun jewelry and never wearing it, being devastated your hair is too dark to dip dye in kool aid, sticky lip gloss, painting every nail a different color, self sabotage, crushed velvet scrunchies, the grease soundtrack, wanting to be a rockette when you grew up, never learning how to do make up, begging to do figure skating as a kid, begging to do beauty pageants as a kid, begging to do cheerleading as a kid, turquoise braces bands, sinclair gas stations, showing up to an audition that you didn’t realize had a dance call, dunkin’ donuts munchkins, squirrel girl comic books, one half of a best friend necklace you wore longer than you should have

richie:

trying to get the marble out of a ramune bottle, wearing big headphones 24/7 (even if they aren’t playing anything), staining your best friend’s bathtub blue with hair dye, sour patch kids, enamel pins, discord calls across like three different time zones, the charlie bone book series, getting in trouble for drawing in class, being the friend with a car but also being a terrible driver, a pokémon card binder, that one kid who was really, really good at cup stacking, wearing shorts in the middle of winter, thirty-nine minute long voice memos, being exceptional at claw machines, vocaloid songs, your pet parakeet hanging out on top of your head, that one vaguely traumatizing round of the pocky game from seventh grade, regularly broken duolingo streaks, getting in trouble for bringing a real katana to your freshman year halloween dance

[aphroditesmoon]

hello! i have a request for you, but first i wanted to say i’ve enjoyed reading your wednesday/wenclair works :)

may i please have gn reader x gwen relationship details? like cute things you notice about her, how she shows affection, or anything else you want to include? thank you in advance!

gwen stacy x reader fluff hcs #2

a/n: omgggg tysm for reading my wenclair works🥹 I've found that writing is one of the only ways i could express myself as a queer person in a very hom0phobic country, im glad other people also find enjoyment in them!

warnings: none, fluff.

♤♤♤♤

- she was very awkward having you come yo her band practise at first, at least in the early stages of your relationship.

- she ended up playing badly because she couldn't focus with you around.

- it all gets better when she realizes you can't tell the difference anyways and still tell her you think she did great💀

- cuddling with her is never really a "whos the big spoon" question, she prefers to have her face buried in the crook of your neck, so if she's hugging you from behind, or from the front, it doesn't matter.

- when she's feeling protective of you in some days, she'll definitely have your face planted on her chest, trying to hide your body in her arms.

- bad cook gwen !! 🗣🗣 she can make a neat instant noodle though, take it or leave it.

- you took on to learning how to make simple recipe foods when your started dating her, banana pancakes, a decent omelette, and a good ol' fashion pasta. she really loves how much you love making her food, like it's your love language.

-she has a picture of you in her wallet, from your first date. hobie absolutely destroys her with embarrassment while announcing to everyone that gwendy has a special someone she's hiding

- you two lovw thrifting together, theres a pretty crowded and known city in her universe with lots of tourism spots and cool trinket shops, and yet the two of you will always find yourselves in a thrift shop there, choosing clothes for eachother.

- teaching you to play drums (you lasted a week and gave up, neither of you ever mention it again)

- her first tattoo is on the back of her neck, a lyric from a song in the playlist you made for her.

- you have a spider tattoo on your back too, something to remind you of her.

- late night burger dates at the same burger stall by the corner of her apartment, the dude already memories yalls orders too.

- she always loses her jacket or hoodie but never worrying bcs soon enough she'll see that you're wearing it.

- she likes to buy you random things she thinks you'd like, like a sun shaped keychain, a book you've mentioned once, a cat mug that costed her 70$

- she also likes it when you'll randomly intertwine your hands together, you'll be walking together or simply talking and sitting, and you'll have the urge to hold her hands, she'll immediately leane into your touch.

[fungalittleweirdo]

PLS JULE, DONT EAT MIKEY!!! PLS, HE’S MY MAN. I REQUESTED FLUFF OF READER AND MIKEY WHEN HE REALIZES/STARTS GROWING HAIR. MAYBE PUT A JELLIE LEO(lol bald) IN THERE FOR FUNZIES. PLEASE JUST LET MY HUSBAND GO. CRYING AND SOBBING ON MY KNEES.

I WON'T EAT MIKEY I PROMMY !!!

this has been in my drafts since february 16 i'm so sorry riley

hey at least you saw everything i have written since then !!

anyway–

No Longer A Skinhead

"Hm, feels different," Mikey sits up and hops out of his hammock, adjusting the tie of his mask after he scratched underneath it, then begins his routinely stretches. He sits down on the floor, spreading his legs and pointing his feet, reaching over to do his usual ballet stretches for when he wakes up. His phone rings and he reaches for it, accepting the video call he was getting from you.

"Good morning, sunshine~" he sing-songs, propping his phone up and continuing to stretch, holding his arm across his plastron and switching.

"Morning Mikes, you told me you didn't have patrol last night, so I hope you slept well," your voice echoes from his phone, then a sizzle comes on from you making breakfast. Mikey hums in interest, stretching for a right split while he said he slept fairly easy.

"Whatcha makin' for breakfast, honey?" He laughs, switching to his other leg after a moment. You look up from the pan of eggs, holding up your spatula.

"Just regular eggs and bacon, toast is coming along nicely," You turn around to check the toaster oven on the other side of the kitchen, seeing your toast is almost done.

You look back at your phone to see Mikey getting up from the floor and leaving his room, the door clicking shut as he steps away from the subway car. He seems to be heading for his own kitchen, judging by the way the brick colour changes behind him. You've been to the lair so many times you can tell where the turtles are even on a regular audio call with them, just by the echo of their footsteps.

"What might you be making for breakfast, chef?" You ask playfully, taking a sip of your warm beverage you already made for yourself.

"I think I'll go for banana pancakes! Leo went to the Caribbean the other day and got a boatload of bananas somehow, so now we gotta get rid of them before they all get too ripe," Mikey scratched his head, feeling as though it's the fifth time his scalp has itched since waking up. He paid no mind to it, going on to make the pancake batter at the kitchen counter.

You turn back to your eggs and bacon, finding they finished cooking and you put them on your plate, turning to retrieve your toast, and grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer. Then you grab your phone, propping it up in front of you after you sit down at your tiny dining table. Mikey smiles at you warmly for a brief moment before going back to making pancakes, your heart beating just a little faster. You start eating while watching Mikey cook. The comfortable silence lasts until you hear the voices of Mikey's brothers over the call, laughing and bantering about whatever turtle guys their age talk about.

"So you know that trick I tried on the ramp the other day? Yeah, no, that was sick–" Leo's voice echoes through the kitchen and Donnie scoffed in retaliation. You could see Raph thumping behind Mikey like a zombie, grabbing the kettle to make some tea. Your heart warms seeing your friends having a regular morning, wishing they could have a break like the one they had last night every day. But Casey and April could only take so much vigilante-ism as humans with full time jobs in New York City. So you get it.

You spend the rest of your breakfast on video call with Mikey, Not only spending time with him but his brothers as they greet you through the phone, including you in their conversation while they have delicious banana pancakes together. After they finish, Mikey walks away to lead you back to his room, going on to get his art supplies ready. You think of how to approach your plans for the rest of the month for a moment before speaking your mind.

"I'm going out of state for a few weeks, I won't be reached through anything," you start, chewing your bottom lip. Mikey looks up from his sketchbook, giving you a curious look. "I'll be back on the thirtieth. That's Lou Jitsu night, right?" You pause, waiting for Mikey's response.

"Yeah, be there or be square!" He grins, looking back down at his sketchbook and continuing to draw. You smile softly, leaning forward to get a good look at him.

"I have to get ready for work now, so I'll see you in a few weeks, yeah?" You fiddle with a thread in your pyjamas, then get up from the couch to stretch. Mikey scratches his head again and reaches for his phone with his pencil in hand.

"Yeah! I love you! And stay safe! You know I'll find out immediately if you're not safe, okay?" Mikey smiled, but it was one of his intimidating smiles you built immunity for over the years, so you know it just means he's serious.

"Okay, I promise I'll be safe," you smile back, oozing affection so contagious it shoots another arrow through Mikey's heart, his intimidating smile washed away by a giddy one. You wave and hang up the call, then go back to your bedroom to get ready to go to work.

~

Your out-of-state trip passed, you're exhausted, and you desperately want to stay home to lay in bed for three days. But! You made your promise to attend Lou Jitsu night as soon as you got back, so you left your bags at your place and immediately went to the lair in your PJs, making sure no one saw or heard you open the manhole cover closest to it. You feel a sense of comfort wash over you when you see the familiar drain of clean water, walking over to the vault door and opening it carefully, knowing all the security precautions Donnie had put in place. You walk around, heading toward the voices you hear in the projection room.

"Leo, what are you wearing?" Raph's annoyed voice bounced off the brick.

"My new trademark pegasus onesie! I got that unicorn one years ago but it has holes in it now, so I bought a new pony onesie that suits me better. It's so fuzzy and high quality, it was totally worth the price."

"A wasteful investment, dear brother. You could have gotten the Jupiter Jim Atomic Lass and Atomic Lad statuette set from Japan with that money."

You step into the room to find Leo flaunting himself as if he was on a runway wearing what indeed looked to be a pegasus onesie, the zipper zipped up just under his pectoral scutes and a hood covering his bald head. Your eyes flicker between Raph, Donnie, April, and the Caseys, but you can't see Mikey in his usual spot.

"Hey guys!" You make your presence known and everyone looks at you, immediately smiling and tackling you for a hug. You lay on the floor laughing, patting and poking everyone to get them off you as you get up from the floor, rubbing your lower back. Raph reaches out to you in worry.

"Sorry' bout that, did we hurt you too bad? We jus' missed ya," He smiles sheepishly and you shake your head.

"No! No! You guys are fine! I... I'm wondering where Mikey is," you look between them all and see that Leo had an annoyed pout on his face, arms crossed and walking away.

"He's probably in his room," Casey Jr. said, a knowing look on his face, "grooming himself to be presentable tonight."

You quirk an eyebrow at this, stepping away from everyone with a nod.

"You guys mind if I go check on him?" Everyone gave you the go ahead and you left the projection room to head down to the boys' bedrooms downstairs. You distinguish Mikey's in the darkness just by the subway car's lights being on, approaching it to knock on the door.

"I'll be up in a sec! Have you ever heard of patience–" Mikey opens the door and stops in his tracks when he sees you. You look up at him with bug eyes and a dropped jaw, reaching up and stopping, breath caught in your lungs in hesitation before Mikey gave you a nod. Fingers tangle through the short locks, feeling how soft and well taken care of his strands are. You watch his hair wrap around your fingers in wonder, reaching up to hold his face.

"Heh... I wanted this to be a surprise for when you got back..." Mikey smiles shyly, eyes flickering away from you. You pull him in for a kiss, his face warming quickly as you continue peppering kisses on his cheeks, then moving up to his scalp.

"Oh my gosh, Mikey, you look so pretty!"

You continue to dote on him, his giggles echoing around the lair as you hold him close. His heart beat out of his chest, knees feeling weak as you kiss him again, this time with a lot more vehemence. More fervency. More passion. You continue babbling about how handsome he is until someone cleared their throat behind you, turning to see Leo with his arms crossed and a portal behind him.

"I'm still more good looking than him though," Leo scoffs, smirking and leaning down to be eye-level with you.

"Last time I checked, you weren't the one growing hair," you pulled Mikey into you protectively, kissing the side of his head. His cheeks warmed again and his eyes shined brighter from your skin contact, tingles running through him. Leo rolls his eyes, gesturing toward the portal so that you all could walk through and start Lou Jitsu night.

Mikey held you close throughout the whole movie marathon, never seeming to wipe that grin off his face knowing you love him even with his new look.

[tjwritesfanfics]

Universe Fourteen *Rumple Buttercup*

Pairing: None. Just everyone being friends with Rumple Buttercup

Summary: You were so excited for the annual Pajama-jam Cotton Candy Pancake parade and more importantly, to work up the courage to talk to the creature with green skin, five crooked teeth, and the banana peel on his head.

Rating: None. We will all just love Rumple!

Words: 708

AN I skipped to this one because I wanted to write Rumple. I kind of jump around when I write these universe stories.

Every Universe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Everyone was so excited for the Pajama-jam Cotton Candy Pancake parade tomorrow!

You and your family all tried to go to sleep early and while your parents could fall asleep, you couldn’t bring yourself to, lying awake in your bed.

You tried everything to get some sleep. Counting sheep. Getting a glass of warm milk. Running around to tire yourself out.

Nothing seemed to be working though.

As you lay there in bed you think about everyone you are going to see tomorrow. Everyone would be wearing their finest pajamas and then he would be there.

Maybe this year you would finally talk to him and maybe ask his name. The strange creature with green skin, five crooked teeth, and a banana peel on his head. He was so interesting, but you were always too nervous to talk to him.

What if he thought you were weird? What if he saw you just staring and thought there was something wrong with you?

You drift off to sleep not with thoughts of happiness, but with a cloud of insecurities.

When the sun came up the next morning, the thoughts of being weird and strange were in the back of your mind as you were excited for all of the festivities coming today.

You run around with your friends, the warm sun hitting your face, eyes subtly looking for a flash of green skin.

 But he was nowhere to be found. Was he not going to join this year?

Your friends could tell you were worried. They looked around and saw the one you were looking for wasn’t in his usual spot. They knew you wanted to try and finally talk to him this year and it was strange that he wasn’t there.

So they gently took your arm and took you to the rain drain where you all had heard his voice sometimes. Only you didn’t see him, but heard crying.

“Aren’t you going to watch the parade this year?” One of your friends asked.

The crying stopped, but there was no other sounds.

“C can you hear us down there mister? Sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you were going to watch the parade this year?” You really hoped that he was going to come out and watch it. You wanted to get to know him.

After some silence you heard a sheepish voice coming from the rain drain, “What do you mean?”

Your friends smiled gently at you, nudging you to keep talking. “We couldn’t help but notice you weren’t in your usual spot so we wanted to check if you were okay.”

“Y you can see me?” The voice came again, a sliver of green coming closer to the opening of the rain drain.

“Of course we can see you!” You crouched down hoping to see more of him and smiled, “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“But… aren’t you scared of me?” 

Your friend came to crouch beside you, a hand resting on your shoulder. “Why would we be scared of you?”

“Because I have five crooked teeth, three strands of hair, green scaly skin, and my left foot is slightly bigger than the other.” His voice got soft, almost as if he was going to cry. “I’m weird.”

You and your friends looked at each other before you started listing off things that were weird about yourself. Then the whole town started to join in, one of the ladies singing like a frog.

“Trust me,” You look back into the drain, reaching your arm down for the creature to grab before pulling him up to the street, “everyone is weird!”

“And that’s what makes us special.” You smiled wider at him before nodding.

“Now you’ve got it! I’m Y/n!” You extend your hand out, happy jitters when he takes it.

“Rumple Buttercup.”

You lead your new friend Rumple to the middle of town while everyone cheered. But there was one thing you wanted to ask him. “There is one thing I always did find a little weird.”

Rumple froze, terror in his eyes. “Oh no! What?!”

“Why do you always wear a banana peel on your head?”

You and your new friend laugh as he went on to explain everything.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[carebare3xl]

With your weight is it still possible for you to exercise or climbing lots of stairs without heavy breathing.

Are you not afraid to get health issues like high bloodpressure because of being obese

Once I'm up and about heavy breathing only really occurs when I'm doing a strenuous activity immediately after being inactive for a long period of time. Examples that I have noticed that are followed by heavy breathing has been getting up from bed or getting up from sitting from the floor or a low stool. this belly of mine is double the size now than my first go around at gaining big! Even though my highest weight was in 2019 tipping the scales a little over 420lbs, my gut was not as round and massive as its current state and I'm only weighing 306lbs. ill post bellow a side by side of my belly then and now...

AND TRUE STORY I have been recently diagnosed with diabetes, just the week before my birthday of tis year, I underwent a health scare while eating pancakes my mom made breakfast. I had fainted because my blood sugar had spiked and without having knowledge of why I was in a hospital gown, hooked up to a machine at the urgent care down the street with my dad crying and squeezing my hand... But not to their knowledge, I was just getting home from a hookup and he was in amazement that being my recent size, my sex drive has been more animalistic than the past times we've hooked up... to see how he would react I mentioned to a silly little lie telling him that if he rubs my belly in the right situation especially if I'm eating simultaneously then my loads will have him not being able to hold it all in his mouth, if he gives me head. His eyes lit up more when I jokingly said that recently other guys have had it come out their noses as I'm holding their head down with my belly weighing down their head.... His eye lit up, got up and ran out of the room leaving me in bed confused and not ready for games cause I was ready to blow it. A few minutes past and he returned out of breath carrying a crate full of ingredients. Catching his breath he's pointing to an Amazon box and tells me he's been dying to make with his new commercial grade Vitamix earlier that day. Then he sets down the crate and pulls out an opened gallon of oat milk, bottle of chocolate syrup and a quart of Oreo ice cream pouring the ingredient into the blender with excitement and says "YOU WILL DRINK THIS MILKSHAKE TO THE LAST DROP AND HE YOU FINISH LET ME KNOW CUASE I WANT TO FEELTHE MASSIVE BELLY HOLD DOWN MY HEAD AS IM GAGGING AND CHOKING ON UR EDGED LOAD."

***So long story short, I had just finished consuming a shit ton of sugar like 30 minutes before I got home. And drinking a few cans of sprite on the way home from that and a large glass of apple juice prior to the consumption of 8 thick fluffy chocolate chip banana pancakes drenched in Mrs. Buttersworth pancake syrup.***

[boiledbasil]

All for sumire

i have literally no idea if you were serious about this so i'ma just get through as many as I can before I get tired and uhh also some that I wanted to answer in general :D

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

I'd say that yea, she is, she will start crying, sobbing on the fucking floor and 5 mins later she just gets up like "alr time to make dinner"

if you want to know how she's lying, you'd probably tell by her tone of voice or how she's smiling

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

nah she doesn't but she thinks it a cool concept

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

anger and frustration, sumire my girl you gotta get better coping mechanisms for your bottled up anger and sadness smh

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

I think she just, barely does, anymore- it'd only happen if she was VERY sad and stressed

👊 PUNCH - are they quick to violence?

violence is a big no-no

unless they like. actually deserve it (cough cough wd kenshin COUGH)

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

she's prone to falling asleep during the day, and sometimes can be a little nosy when it comes to peoples personal lives, even if she tries her best not to cross boundries

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

she actually has a rly good relationship with her parents in all au's! no siblings but she does love her parents, they just work a little too much for her to talk to them that often.

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

probably fight I'd say, maybeeee on the verge of freeze

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

I think this one's pretty obvious

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

random fruit that's in the fridge or fried eggs

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

her birthday is on july 11th! she likes her birthday and celebrating it with small gatherings :)

🍩 DONUT - favourite sweet treat?

donuts or muffins

🍟 FRIES - do they order food often? or they prefer to cook their own food?

she usually cooks her own meals, but she's kinda bad at cooking anything than isn't a quick simple recipe

🍓 STRAWBERRY - do they eat their fruit & veg? what is their favourite fruit or vegetable?

indeed she does :3 also she likes bananas

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

nothing of too much importance, just some small trinkets from her family, they're special to her but they don't hold a ton of value to her.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

when I was thinking of flower symbolism for sumire I picked zinna's and petunias, petunias mean perseverance and hope along with anger/resentment, and zinna's mean friendship and lasting affection!

I think she just likes all flowers though, they're all pretty to her :D

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

slow boil, she doesn't like getting angry or upset at people

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

actually, i've had a TON of oc's over the years, Sumire was just the only one that I actually finished and have a sort of story for- everyone else was pretty much a self-insert- most of my inspo though just came from other oc's and generally what colours/clothes i liked

the first thing I decided about her though was probably the name! liked it since childhood, and I didn't like using my own name as a kid for self inserts, so sumire it was!

⚾ BASEBALL - can they play sports? what is their best position if they play a team sport? what's their strong suit (speed, power etc.)?

haha no.

she's a decent runner though!

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

she has a clear voice, but it's on the softer side and low pitched, no voice claim tho :(

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

loved ones.

and sleeping on the side of the road that probably lures her into danger too ig

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

she likes photos, but doesn't take any of herself, also her go to pose is usually just ✌️

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

lmao no anyone bad in her life probably still has some way to text her, she just doesn't talk to them like, at all anymore

the last straw would have to be something really terrible that she'd cut them out-

💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?

slight upper middle class, gives her the chance to do stuff she likes :3

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

she likes talking with them, often treating them as more of someone her own age rather than a child

🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing? what is their go-to karaoke song?

she doesn't sing a lot, but her voice is pretty good! not great, but good.

📚 BOOKS - how were they at school? what is their best subject? what is their worst subject? do they have a favourite subject?

she gets good grades because she does a lot of self studying so it's pretty average, the problem is that she doesn't understand jack shit because she sleeps during class

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

classic romance scene, yes, but she wouldn't be the one initiating it

⏳ HOURGLASS - are they usually late or on-time?

on time, usually gets there around 5-10 minutes early

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Trusts people a tiny bit too easily i'd say- uhh hold on ima speed through this one-

no she wouldn't turn her back on someone if possible, yes (sort of idk if it counts), anddd no.

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

I've done the wd au so far, but I do have some thoughts for other au's that could've been cool:

a timekeeper, a merchant, a traveller, stuff with a sort of royal au that isn't the wd au? and cyberpunk :DD

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

do you think sumire's hair is fluffy? dw it is it's just fucking tangled as hell

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

(does it count as a hc if it comes from the creator?? ehh idk)

she's heard a lot of people scream and cry in pain over the phone

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

biggest change was probably her personatlity, I didn't know what kind of personatlity she'd have so sometimes it could feel more like a self insert-

she's still rly inconsistent a lot, but I think I actually kind of know how I want her character to be :3

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

to her middle school self:

"it's alright if you don't always like yourself, and it's alright to tell someone about it, there will always be people around you who care just as much as you do."

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

small forms of physical affection other than hugs (like just a lil hand hold) and words of reassurance

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

lmao no she's burying that crush till the day she dies

probably the least likely person to confess in BM (or just in general-)

nothing rly changes tho she still tries to treat them as normal without changing anything

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

usually words of affirmation or physical touch

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

HUGS!! (nicer if other person initiates) and also small gifts

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

major distrust

wow holy shit that took WAY longer than i thought it would XD

I did skip a few cus either I didn't feel like it or don't have an answer-

gonna actually tag this tho so I can use it for later but uhhh I need food and a nap gn chat <3

[ladylooch]

Omg this soft nico and lex thoughts 🤭🤭 where do the roles reverse like maybe its lexs birthday and all of the hischier kids and her husband surprise her and shower her with love bc shes the best momma ever…. She definetly cries 🥹

⚠️ TW: miscarriage and grief

So, me, realizing in the shower this morning as I’m pondering this.. that I gave our sweet Neeks and Lex a robbery, broken collar bone, and miscarriage in a year… 🥺 why am I so mean to them!? What did they do to me!?

Lexi does not care one bit about her birthday this year. It’s another year of being older. Another reminder of how precious life actually is, as if losing their baby wasn’t enough.  She lays in bed on her 29th birthday, staring blankly out the window. Nico has been up with the girls for about an hour. Lexi had attempted to get up with him, but her husband had pinned her down, tucking her into the blankets and insisting she stay here. 

Fine by her. Getting out of bed wasn’t high on her list of wants today.

Her hand ghosts down to her stomach. Today, she would be four months pregnant. They would be telling people. They would be making plans. The raw anguish of failure swoops through her. She turns to her back, staring up at the ceiling as it blurs from her tears. Lexi claws at her chest above the tightness that threatens to take her under. 

“Mommy!” An electric Lucie suddenly bursts through the door. 

“Luc!” Nico yelps in a whisper. “I said gentle!” He stands in the doorway, balancing a tray of food along with a babbling Mack. Lexi sits up, opening her arms to Lucie who crawls over to her.

“Mommy! I made you something!!!” She grins, her little teeth looking aggressive from her excitement.

“Oh?” Lexi murmurs, brushing her daughter's wild, bed head hair away. She watches her husband’s approach to the bed, drinking in his floppy locks and toned body. He’s shirtless, with a week of a beard, and looks so good with that baby on his chest that she thinks she swoons.

The darkness begins to lift, releasing the room and allowing streaks of sunlight through. 

“Is it… waffles?” Lexi begins to guess, even though she can see it is pancakes. 

“No!” Lucie clasps her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep the surprise in a little longer. She shakes with excitement causing a hearty chuckle from Nico.

“Is it… oatmeal?”

“Yuck!” Lucie retorts. Nico pauses with Mack and the tray a few feet away. “One more guess!”

“Oh…” Lexi trails off, contemplating hard. “Is it… soup!”

“No!!!!” Lucie yells. “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!” Lucie crawls to her feet, jumping up and down before she throws herself onto her back. She bunches up Nico’s pillow, staring at her mommy in pure joy. 

“What kind of pancakes?!”

“Lucie pancakes!” Lucie pancakes are banana pancakes with sprinkles and a dollop of whipped cream.

“She counted 13 sprinkles for each one.” Nico widens his eyes at his wife.

“For daddy?” She asks her daughter.

“Yeah.” Lucie beams.

Nico sets the tray over her lap, then leans down to kiss his wife. He lingers, sensing the ache in her without her even needing to tell him. He holds her neck, keeping her against his lips when she tries to pull away too soon for him. Mack pats at their faces then leans in, inserting her face between them. Her parents laugh.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Nico says. “Another year of our favorite person.” Lexi feels her bottom lip start to tremble. Nico gives a sympathetic tilt of his lips. “We love you, mama.” He reaches out for her cheek, capturing the tear before their daughters see it.

“I made you a card too! Auntie Em helped with the glitter.”

“She did! She loves glitter.” Lexi murmurs, turning away from Nico. “Okay, I have so many pancakes here. I dont think I can eat all of these. Can you help, Luc?”

“Yeah!” Her brown eyes go wide at the prospect of sugar. “I want that one because it has the most whipped cream.”

“Oh okay.”

“Luc, is it your birthday?” Nico teases, setting Mack down so she can crawl about the bed.

“Soon.” 

“In two more months.”

“No! Less than two months!” Lexi laughs heartily at their smart, insistent daughter.

She puts a bite on her fork, feeding each of the babies a bite before she takes one herself, tending to their needs before her own as mom’s tend to do. Nico’s hand goes to her thigh as Lucie begin to tell her every single one of the presents downstairs waiting for her and the surprise balloons and banner. Nico is glad he kept the necklace to himself. It’s a new one, gold, with his and the girls initials, and a dainty heart for the baby they never got to name.

Nico doesn’t know, but it will heal a little bit more of the hole in Lexi’s heart she never thought would close.

[maxislvt]

Low Blows

Summary: After what happened between you and Carol, Wanda makes a plan to help you cheer up. Though she denies

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, shitty relationships, sorry to the vision enjoyers

A/N: I'm very sorry to those who were interested in this series only to watch it flop and die in the span of a month! I do plan to release the next chapter either towards the end of March or early next month! Hopefully I won't be dog tired and then forget again

Series Masterlist

Wanda had always been bad at hiding things from people. Her parents had raised her to be as honest as she possibly could be. That meant if she did have to lie Pietro was always the one covering for her, but now Pietro was back home in New York City playing PaRappa The Rapper and trying to beatbox for his YouTube subscribers. Never would Wanda have thought that the absence of her brother would lead to her getting into almost cartoonish levels of trouble.

A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she sat down in the confession chair. The last time she was here they asked her how she felt about Carol after the situation with the shack of secrets. Now they were expecting her to explain her recent purchases and the huge box of beach toys. 

"I just want to get Y/N out of the house for a few hours…" The confidence in her plan dwindled as the crew raised their eyebrows in suspicion. "Okay fine, an hour…at least a few minutes! I just don't want them to sit there and rot away in their sadness. That's just not them." Wanda pulled out a bag of sand molds and grinned. "I found this set of molds at the store yesterday. They were overpriced, but they had this cute little zebra one so I couldn't pass it up!" 

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

The house had been pretty tense after what happened between you and Carol. Everyone avoided Carol like the plague and almost all attempts to get you out of the bed and back into the real world failed. Not even Monica and Mr. Strips could get out into the light. 

Wanda had originally discouraged any attempts to force you to talk about what happened in the Shack of Secrets. You needed space and the others had to learn to respect that. So Wanda decided to take up your chores and cook for everyone while you come to terms with everything. It wasn't easy, but your comfort was more important to her 

But when days turned into nearly a week, Wanda had no choice but to intervene. With a little help from Monica, she hatched a plan. First, she needed to make breakfast. blueberry jelly and marshmallow fluff toast with bananas for a face, a bowl of fruit, sausage, eggs, and pancakes. She made a little extra with the hope that you'd share, or at least make up for the lack of a full meal. 

Wanda knocked on your bedroom door. "Hey, buttercup. I know you're not feeling all that well but I made you breakfast." She leaned against the door. "We don't have to talk about…that, but I just wanna check in on you." A frustrated groan could be heard from the other side of the door. For a moment, she considered giving up and going back downstairs. "Okay. How about if I can guess what you're wearing, you have to let me in and eat breakfast." 

You frowned. That was such an odd bet to make, but it softened your heart a bit to see that she was trying. "Okay, but you're probably gonna get it wrong." You snuggled into the bed. Another sad nap waiting for you at the end of the conversation.

"Is it my off-white and purple NYU hoodie and the black Van Cortlandt shorts you swore were tacky and overpriced?" 

You let out a defeated groan and got up to open the door. "You're such a cheater," You grumbled before grabbing one of the plates one had balanced in her arm. "How'd you even get this up here without spilling?" With your free hand, you moved the comforter over so you could eat without getting crumbs and jelly on it.  

Since you were too busy crying and wallowing in regret, your room had become a mess. Dirty clothes and clean laundry just sat in piles with nothing to tell them apart, your incense holder had gone uncleaned and unused, and your bedside trash can was nearly overflowing with snack wrappers and tissues. 

"And you're a clothes thief," Wanda said affectionately before kissing your cheek. She sat the remaining plates down on the bed and then snuggled up beside you. "I just took a bunch of extra slow steps, I spent like three minutes getting upstairs. " She excitedly grabbed the toast off the plate and presented it to you. "Look, I made Mr. Strips! He's so cute. " 

You leaned forward and let Wanda feed you. It wasn't until you finished chewing the piece that you realized what had happened. Wanda didn't give you a chance to apologize. She forced you to take another bite before you could say anything. "Oh, is this blueberry jam? I love that stuff!" 

Wanda affectionately wiped the corners of your mouth before kissing your cheek. "I was gonna take all the credit for it, but Monica did help me figure out some of the stuff you liked." Wanda continued to feed you. She found more pride in it than she expected. The last few times Wanda had seen you, you just looked miserable. She hated it. Now, you were relaxed and happy again. Wanda would do anything to protect that happiness.  

Once you finished eating, Wanda stacked the plates on your nightstand. "Hey, I found a really nice spot on the beach the other day and I was wondering if you'd like to go." Her smile faded as your face began to shift into one of uncertainty. One of her hands reached out to hold one of yours. It felt right. Your skin was soft like it was made for her to spend hours kissing. Wanda probably would if you let her. "I just want you to get out…an hour?" 

"Fifteen minutes." 

"Forty-five minutes from the second we get there."

"I'll do thirty minutes from the second we leave the house." 

"Fifty-five and I get to make dinner just for us."

You let out a defeated sigh. Arguing with Wanda was impossible. "Fine, an hour but you're not cooking dinner…That's still my job."

Wanda let out an uncertain hum before kissing your cheek. "We'll see how our date goes. Now shower up and put on that swimsuit, make sure it's the cute little Cabana set with the flowers on it. You look cute in it." She gave you a playful spank on the butt before collecting the plates and silverware. 

A blush spread across your face. Being the center of Wanda's attention felt so good. She always knew just how to make you. "Wait, what do you mean 'We'll see'? Come here!" You turned around to face Wanda, but she had already left your room and made her way downstairs. Even though you were apprehensive about facing everyone again, the idea of Wanda worrying about you made your heart melt. You wondered what she had planned for you. 

While you were waiting, someone knocked at your door. 

It was Carol. Her mere presence made you uncomfortable. She stood tall and commanding. A couple of months ago, you would've found it attractive. Now it just made you dread whatever she was about to say. Carol raised her eyebrows expectantly and sighed when you did little to acknowledge her. Then she sighed. She made you feel ashamed without even saying a word. "Look-"

"Are you ready to go, baby?" Wanda asked just before Carol could finish speaking. She extended her hand out for you to hold. Wanda could feel the daggers Carol was staring into her soul, but they meant nothing. All Wanda cared about was you and your happiness. A smile brighter than a thousand suns spread across her face as you slowly stepped forward and grabbed her hand. "You look so handsome in your little sweet swimsuit," Wanda cooed as she guided you down the stairs. 

You giggled. "You told me to wear it." Neither her proud smirk nor possessive grip was lost on you. Jealousy and possessiveness usually weren't things you enjoyed. But you were more than willing to make an exception for Wanda. 

"Well, you're adorably obedient for wearing it," Wanda whispered before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Now come on, I spent all this money on beach toys and we have to use them at least once." The walk to the beach was quick. Wanda wasn't going to risk anyone else intervening in your adventure. She whisked you out the door and down the shore without any interruptions. 

After a couple of minutes, Wanda brought you to a cave with nothing but a blanket and another basket. 

"Is this some crime of passion set up? If so, this isn't the best place to do it!"

Wanda simply rolled her eyes and pushed you towards the blanket. "Monica was right. You do read too many murder mysteries. Go play!" She sat down next to you and began pulling out the little molds, shovels, and buckets she bought earlier. "I got one of Mr.Strips!" She placed the tiny sand mold into your hands and smiled. "I wrote your name on it so no one can steal it." 

You smiled and gave the mold a small kiss. "Well, I'll make sure to take good care of it." 

The rest of the date was spent in comfortable silence. Wanda would walk back and forth between the cave and the shore with buckets full of water so you could build your castle without worry. When the buckets weren't sandy and in need of a refill. Eventually, your sandcastle had gotten too complicated for Wanda to help so she decided to sit back and watch you build instead. And when you finished your castle, you snuggled up next to her.

"I'm proud of you. It's not always easy doing what's best for yourself," She whispered. 

"Are you proud of me for prioritizing myself or are you just happy you're the better option?" You giggled. 

"I don't think those things contradict each other." 

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

"I don't even really like Zebras all that much," You confessed the very second the cameras started rolling. "I only keep Mr. Strips because Monica bought him for me as an apology for our kindergarten divorce." You jiggled the bracelet on your wrist and showed it to the crew. "This is like the ninth piece of zebra-related jewelry she's given me and I don't have the guts to tell her…Anyway, what were you guys gonna ask me?"

"So, how was the date?"

"It was nice, but I don't think it was a date. I mean I would've loved for it to be one, but I don't wanna put any labels on anything!" For the sake of the footage, you opted not to say anything about the knowing looks the crew shared. "Okay fine! I like Wanda a lot but I'm too shy to make any moves…I don't wanna scare her off." You slouched in your arms like a petulant child. "I just don't wanna rush anything..leave me alone."

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

If you learned anything from being on a reality TV show in the past few weeks, it's that time moves fast. One day, Maria and Natasha were getting close again then the next they didn't even want to be in the same room as each other. Time moved even faster when you weren't directly involved with whatever drama plagued the house for the day. You were known to break up fights or stand up for some of the more soft-spoken cast members, but most of the issues in the house seemed to be above you. There were even times when you slept through the introductions of new people. 

"Why do you care so much? You're more in love with them than you ever were with me!" 

This is to say you had no idea what Vision and Wanda were arguing about. They had been called down to that dreaded shack, that much you could figure out.

"I care because I wasted two years of my life with you! I don't love you know but I'm allowed to be upset that I wasted time with some half-assed loser that got with me over a dare!" 

Oh. Okay, things were much worse than you thought. 

"Okay," You shouted to silence both of them. "Why don't you two go to your rooms for a bit before talking about this? That stupid shack is designed to piss you off and start drama, just take a break!" 

Wanda took a deep breath. Her expectations for her ex were already in the dirt. Why was she shocked Vision had disappointed her yet again? "You're right. I'm not letting myself get worked up over this anymore. I'm going to my room." Before you could praise her maturity, she grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs. 

Had you been thinking with your brain, you would've voiced your concerns about leaving Vision alone when he was just as upset as Wanda. But since you were thinking with your heart, you didn't bother looking back to check if he was okay. Your heart only cared about Wanda. It soared when you were tossed into the bed and Wanda possessively snuggled into you. "Baby, what…what happened?" 

She huffed out and buried her face into your neck "Don't worry about it, alright? Let's just forget about him for a sec." Wanda littered kisses along the side of your neck. They continued upwards until she reached your jaw, then she started leaving heavier marks. "Where's my needy little baby, hm? It's been so long since I've touched you, I bet you're just aching for me to touch you." When she finally graces your lips with a kiss, it was greedy. Her tongue slipped into your mouth and stole your breath without a second thought. Wanda didn't let up until the both of you were in desperate need of air. 

And despite the buzzing underneath your skin and throbbing between your legs, you were still worried about Wanda. You put your hand on Wanda's chest to stop her from distracting you again. "I- You…you gotta talk stuff out first," You stuttered out. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the heat, but Wanda was quick to spread them apart. 

Your desperate whining was music to Wanda's ears. "You heard it already. Now, why don't you lay back and let me fuck you?" Her frustration was starting to slip through the cracks. She squeezed your thighs, but they didn't move an inch before getting your permission. "I bet you're so wet and just waiting for me to stretch your little hole out." 

You were trying so hard to focus. But that's hard to do with Wanda staring down at you like you were fresh meat. "Would it make you feel better?" You asked with a meek voice. Your body was on fire and Wanda was making it worse. 

"Only if you tell me how much you want it first," She whispered as her fingers lightly rubbed your cunt through the cloth of your shorts. "Don't be shy, baby, no one can hear it but me." She laughed at your shyness. You were too cute not to tease.

You laughed back nervously. "You're joking, right?" Wanda only raised her eyebrows. You'd never been in this position before. Forced to beg and follow someone else's orders. "Please don't be mean," You whispered. For that, Wanda only began rubbing your cunt. It wasn't even close to enough with your clothes in the way, especially considering your clit remained neglected.

"Oh, I know you can do better than that." Her thumb pressed down harder, but only for a second. Wanda could almost feel your slick seeping through your underwear. "It's no fun denying yourself. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." Her free hand slid up your thigh and began unbuttoning your shirt. "You're just so desperate for me, but I can't help my baby if they don't talk to me." 

You could only whine as Wanda's fingers continued to tease every part of your body. "Touch me please," You whispered.

"But I'm already touching you, baby." 

It was embarrassing. How could Wanda be so cruel to you? After all, you've given her.  You've been nothing but kind to her and yet she repaid you by shattering your pride. "Fuck me, please. I need you so bad!" The worst part was that you enjoyed her cruelty. By the time Wanda had stripped you of all your clothes, your slick had leaked onto the bed. "Please, please, I need you so bad."

"Awe, baby you're a mess." One of her fingers began rubbing tight circles around your clit. Your desperate whimpers and moans were like music to her ears. "That's what I like to hear. You sound so cute." Wanda began sucking on your nipple just as one of her fingers slid inside of cunt. "Oh, and you're just so tight. I bet you've never been fucked right, huh?" 

You shook your head without a second thought. Pleasure had taken over your senses. "More!" and "Please!"  were the only words you could say. Each thrust of Wanda's fingers pushed you further and further into a sea of bliss.

"God if I knew I was gonna fuck you, I would've brought my strap with me." 

The thought of something more than Wanda's fingers was so overwhelming it made you whine. 

Wanda curled her fingers as they rubbed against your g spot. "Don't worry, baby. Once this stupid little show is over I'll take you home and fuck you right." She buried her face in your neck and began leaving soft kisses over the heavy marks she'd left earlier. "I have this big one- oh you'd just love it! It'd stretch out that hole and fill you up with cum. Doesn't that sound fun?"

It sounded fun, but your body answered before your brain could. Your walls fluttered around Wanda's long fingers. Cum leaked out of your hole like a fountain and Wanda was quick to lick it up.  Her fingers and tongue worked in sync  to drag out your orgasm as long as she possibly could. "No, no more," You whimpered, desperately trying to push Wanda's head away. 

Wanda kissed your thigh then rolled over to lay next to you on her bed. She watched as you struggled to catch your breath. "Think you could give me one more?" She asked as she played with the strands of your hair. 

The offer was tempting, but you'd never recover if you let Wanda have her way. "Um, I think we'll have to work up to multiple rounds. I think I'm all fucked out for the night." You buried your head into one of Wanda's pillows and watched as she got off of the bed. "Noo, stay, please? I can take a shower later." 

"Fine, but if you wait too long I'm turning this into a bubble bath." Wanda laid back down. She pulled you closer so your head was properly buried into her chest. Her fingers toyed with the  hair at the base of your neck as you two began to relax and let go of the sexual energy. 

"...what happened in the shack?"

Wanda let out a heavy sigh. "You're really bad pillow talk, you know that?" She ruffled your hair and looked down at you. "Do you want to know that bad?" Denying you was hard already, but when you looked up with the softest eyes she'd ever seen, saying no was impossible. "It's not that I don't wanna talk about it, I just don't want you to think I still have feelings for him or something like that." 

"You dragged me upstairs and fucked me instead of talking things out with him, I know you don't have feelings for him anymore." You leaned away from Wanda's chest. "I'm much more worried about you bottling up all those nasty feelings in here," You said, poking Wanda's chest to accent your point. "Just say whatever is on your mind, I'm all ears."

"It's just…god, every time I give that fucker a chance he turns around and steps all over me! We broke up and got back together three times before I stopped forgiving him. You think he would've said something between that and just ripped the band-aid off instead of letting some stupid reality show find out first!" Wanda continued to ramble. The minutes continued to tick by but she just couldn't stop herself. Maybe she'd pause for a few minutes because she couldn't figure out how to put her frustrations into words, but you were always there to help her. 

Eventually, Wanda had nothing else to say. Her anger fizzled out into slow acceptance 

She let out a heavy breath before nuzzling back into the side of your neck. "Thank you," She mumbled exhaustedly. Wanda, never one to miss the chance to praise you, began smothering your face with kisses once again. "Ah, you're just the cutest aren't you? Always making me so sappy and mushy!"

You whined playfully and pushed her away. "Maybe you're just made of mush and full of sap!"

[winmance]

In Your Defense - Chapter 9

At nine, Damen sends a text to Erasmus to tell him he will be working from his place today. It’s not something he usually does - he has a tendency to get distracted pretty easily if no one’s around. But he doesn’t have the heart to wake up Laurent and he barely slept last night.

It was already five in the morning when they went to sleep. From all the food Damen had ordered, Laurent only ate a small portion, but then they spent half an hour talking about nothing important, like two roommates who just happened to be in the same room at the same time.

Damen considers going for a run, the need to clear his head all too important, but he quickly pushes the thought away; if Laurent woke up during his absence, it would be quite uncomfortable for both of them. He still needs to keep his mind busy, to think of something else but Laurent, his client, sleeping in his bed. Well, not his bed, the guest bed. It’s different. It would matter, if they went to court because of this.

There’s enough ingredients in the kitchen to make pancakes, and so that’s what Damen goes for. It’s rare for him to eat breakfast and when he does, it’s usually something salty, like bacon and eggs, but every once in a while, he will make himself some pancakes, in which he will mix some bananas. Not today, though, because he doesn’t have any, and also because he’s not sure Laurent will like it.

The pancakes are almost done when Damen realizes he should have gone to the bakery down the street. They make the most delightful croissants, as well as many other options that would have given them more choices than just pancakes.

It’s too late because from where he’s standing in the kitchen, he can hear light footsteps coming his way from down the hall. He doesn’t turn around right away, even though he can feel Laurent’s presence behind him. He wants to enjoy those last few seconds of peace, where he can still pretend it was just a dream.

“Hello,” Laurent says.

Damen turns around.

He expects to see Laurent with a sleepy face, his eyes slightly poofy and his hair unbrushed, but Laurent doesn’t look anything like that. He’s still dressed in Damen’s clothes, but he looks well alert, standing straight and rigid, his hair perfectly brush and his eyes taking in the scene before him: Damen, in his pajamas, cooking them breakfast.

“Did you sleep well?” Damen asks. He should have changed his clothes, in hindsight.

“Yes. And you?”

“Great.”

It’s not a lie. He wishes it was, that guilt was keeping him awake all night long, that he was tossing in his bed while trying to find a way to get out of this situation, but none of that is true. He went to bed, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was nine. He didn’t have nightmares. He didn’t have trouble falling or staying asleep.

“The pancakes are almost ready. We can eat them in the living room, if that’s ok for you?”

“Yes.”

Laurent does that when he’s embarrassed, Damen has noticed. Short answer. Yes, No. Never maybe. It’s such a contrast with his usual smart mouth, when he throws insults at Damen or try to defend his brother.

When he enters the living room, Laurent is standing next to the cat tree, looking around it and, Damen can only imagine, searching for the cat.

“He’s under the couch. He’s not very friendly.”

Laurent nods and walks towards the couch. Like all the people that had been to Damen’s place lately, he ends up on his knees, head under the couch. Damen looks away.

“Where did you get him?”

“Uh. There was an association at the mall. He was going to be put down.”

Ancel had told him to put that on his tinder. Nikandros had agreed.

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I would have imagined you with a pure race, that's all.”

“Seems like you were wrong.”

“Seems like it, yes,” Laurent says, absently. Then, in a sweet voice Damen never heard from him: “Hi, petit chat. You’re really cute, are you not?”

Damen can’t see the cat from where he’s standing, but he looks at Laurent, who’s now trying to put his whole arm under the couch.

“Be careful.”

“It’s ok. A little scratch never killed anyone.”

Damen would argue that yes, many people in fact died from cat’s scratches. It can lead to infection, or transmits some disease, and one could lose an arm or even their life. Granted, it’s rare, but it does exist. He doesn’t think Laurent dying from his cat scratching him would be a good idea.

“Your dad loves strays, doesn’t he?” Laurent whispers to the cat.

“I’ll make some coffee and tea,” Damen says, unable to stay in the room.

He goes back to the kitchen and opens the window. The air is so cold, he feels his burning face immediately calming down. He closes his eyes and breathes in, then out, five times, until his heart isn’t racing anymore, until the room doesn’t feel so small.

When he comes back to the living room, Laurent has moved and he is now sitting on the very edge of the couch, his hands on his laps.

“Sorry. Is it ok for me to sit here? I wasn’t sure.”

“Of course it is.”

Damen goes to sit down on the very other side of the couch. At least three people could fit between them, he thinks, which is a good thing. There’s no ambiguity this way.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“Your cat?”

“Uh. I need to work on that, actually.”

It’s here again, that look on Laurent’s face that Damen can’t read, can’t even begin to comprehend. He looks somehow nostalgic, sad, happy and angry at the same time. He didn’t know it was possible to experiment all those emotions at once, but Laurent is proving him otherwise.

He makes one coffee and one tea, and waits until Laurent has chosen one to take the other. Laurent chooses the tea before following Damen’s example and taking a plate to place his pancake on. They start eating in silence, and it’s awkward, it is, but not as much as Damen had imagined. He should have turned the TV on so they would have some background’s noises, but it seems impolite to do it now. It’s ok. They won’t stay there long anyway.

“You should call him Gremlins.”

“Who?”

“The cat, Damen.”

“Gremlins?”

“Yes. Have you never seen the movie? It’s old now, but it’s still good. It’s a pet name, really,” Laurent says with a smile. “He reminds me of someone I know.”

The look on Laurent’s face is soft, and Damen wants to ask who he’s thinking about. He doesn’t.

Gremlins , he says in his head. He had seen the movie with Nikandros when they were younger. They were having a Halloween sleepover, because they were still too young to have a real party, and the movie had been marked as “scary”. It was more fun than scary, if he’s being honest, but it was still a good movie.

“I’ll wash your clothes after our breakfast,” Damen says.

“Oh.”

He sounds… Disappointed, somehow, which Damen fails to understand. His clothes, that are not even his, are dirty and stinky. They should have cleaned them yesterday night, in hindsight, but they were too tired and they let them drying in the bathroom, which wasn’t the best idea.

“I’ll go as soon as they’re cleaned.” Laurent says, eyes focus on his tea. He ate one pancake. Not two, not three, just one.

“Yeah ok. I thought we could go to the mall after, to get you some clothes that will actually fit you. Maybe a phone, too.”

He had made a mental list of all the things Laurent would need. There’s a few things he can borrow from Damen, like a pair of jeans or a sweatshirt, but sharing a wardrobe is not the best. Underwear, they can’t share. He didn’t give an extra pair to Laurent yesterday night, because he himself never wears those while sleeping, and now he wonders if Laurent is wearing anything under his pants.

A phone, obviously, because not being able to communicate doesn’t seem like the best situation. He doesn’t know if Laurent plans on finding a job while waiting for his trial, but maybe they could buy him some books too.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that it takes him five minutes to notice that Laurent has gone quiet. When he looks up, the pair of blue eyes are fixed on him, Laurent’s thin eyebrow frowning.

“What?” Damen asks.

“You’re not taking me back to the shelter?”

It’s Damen’s time to frown.

“You want to go back?”

“Is there another option?”

There are pancakes on the table, tea in his hands, clothes on his back, and yet Laurent still doesn’t think he has another option than to go back to the shelter. Damen is aware he can be a bit dense, sometimes, he has been told so by many people in the past, but Laurent? Laurent may even be worse than him.

“You can stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re just inviting me to stay at your place like that? You could lose your job over this!”

“I don’t mind. I mean, I don’t mind you staying here. I think… I need to ask my assistant,” if Ancel could hear him call him that, he would slap him in the face, “but under some circumstances, a client living with his lawyer can be accepted.”

“It doesn’t seem ethical.”

“If you’re in danger,” Damen says, ignoring his comment, “if you have nowhere to live, that can be accepted. Especially over winter, where being homeless could kill you.”

“But you need to make an official request, right?”

“Yes. I think so. I’ll check, but that’s not - you don’t risk anything. It’s on me, not you.”

Laurent is still looking at him with that perplexed look. He looks more awkward than earlier now, maybe a bit angry, too? Which doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes sense, to be honest.

“Are you expecting payment?” Laurent asks, the words as cold as ice.

“Payment?”

“Yes. Payment, compensation. Whatever you want to call it.”

“You said you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t.”

Sometimes, speaking with Laurent feels like they’re speaking another language. He understands the words coming out of his mouth but he doesn’t understand what they mean. He can see that Laurent is getting frustrated, too.

“Uh. You can, like, make breakfast? And dinner? I’ll give you the money and you can buy whatever you want.”

“Breakfast. And dinner.”

“Well obviously I’ll leave you some money for lunch, but I’m rarely home during the day.”

“I… I am not the best cook.”

“Neither am I, to be honest,” Damen reassures him. “So, do we have a deal?”

Laurent hesitates. The pancake is still on his plate, half eaten. Damen knew he should have gone to the bakery instead.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “Ok, let’s try.”

They finish breakfast quietly (Laurent does, in fact, finish his plate), and they start to get ready for the day. He lands more clothes on Laurent so it doesn’t look like he’s in his pajamas, and this time he slides a pair of underwear in the pants. Take it or leave it.

It’s ten minutes into the drive that Damen remembers that he’s supposed to be working today. He hasn’t even opened his emails and he knows that Erasmus will tell him if anything big is happening. He should feel guilty, but mostly - he feels free. His biggest case of the moment is sitting right next to him in his car anyway, what else could happen?

“Do you have any clothes stored somewhere?” Damen asks while they’re entering the mall.

“No.”

“But before coming to jail, you weren’t walking ass naked in the street, were you?”

Damen blushes at the thought. Why on earth would he say that?

“I had a bag with a few clothes in it, but that’s it. Nicaise took it with him when… Nicaise took it with him.”

The words are like needles under his skin. It’s easy to forget the reason why they are here today, why Laurent is staying at his place, yet the reason for it is here, unhidden, a black cloud forming in Damen’s rainbow and sunny world.

“We will need to get you a proper suit for the trial, but that can wait,” Damen says. “Underwear, socks, jeans, sweatpants, sweaters, anything you think you’ll need, just take it.”

“You do like acting like my mom, don’t you?”

Damen’s cheeks are burning. He clears his throat and focuses back on their task.

It’s a bit weird at first to choose clothes for someone else, but if he’s counting on Laurent to get things done, they may stay there for the whole day. Laurent barely looks at the clothes and when he does, he only touches them with the tips of his fingers, as if the clothes were made of a dangerous material. It’s fine, though, because in Damen’s arms, a pill of clothes is already forming, enough to keep Laurent warm for at least a few weeks.

“It’s too much,” Laurent tells him when he finally notices.

“It’s barely enough.”

Laurent seems to want to argue, but in the end he just sighs and goes back to not-looking at clothes. There’s a beautiful red sweater that catches Damen’s attention. It’s pretty simple, nothing extravagant, but he thinks it would be great for his run in the morning or at night.

“Oh,” Laurent says next to him.

“It’s for me, don’t worry.”

“No, it’s just… I think I’ve taken the same but in blue.”

Sure enough, the only piece of clothing Laurent chose today is the exact same sweater that Damen chose for himself. Considering they’re already sharing clothes, Damen doesn’t really see where the problem could be. They won’t wear it the same day and even if they do, no one will be around to notice.

“Blue will look good on you,” he says.

Laurent feels the material with his fingers by making little circles on the inside and outside of the sweater.

“They used to always make me wear blue during my competitions. It could be the whole costume, or just an accessory, but they all agreed that blue was my color. Auguste color’s, too, but they were less controlling with him,” Laurent explains.

“Why?”

Laurent doesn’t answer. The brothers’ childhood had been studied during the trial, and some elements of it were quite disturbing, borderline abusive, Auguste’s lawyer had even said. The elements had been disclosed as “irrelevant”, and hadn’t been presented to the jury. Damen had read them, but he can’t remember them correctly. Other than the excessive training, nothing else comes to his mind. Everything had been so erratic at that moment. Damen had taken the case back in the middle of it, and he only had a few days to prepare. The verdict would be easy, Kastor had said. It was a gift for Damen, after all.

“Laurent,” Damen says, pointing at an orange shirt. “This one?”

Laurent gives him the middle finger but when he turns around, Damen can see him smiling while shaking his head.

Once Damen’s arms are too full to put any more clothes in them, they go straight to the fitting room after a five minute conversation to convince Laurent that he, in fact, needs to try all the clothes. He reluctantly agrees and while he goes inside the room, Damen sits down on one of the sofas that has been placed in front. His legs are killing him but thankfully, they found enough clothes in that store so that they don’t need to try another one.

“Are you showing me all of your nice new clothes?” Damen asks.

“I’m not five so no.”

He smiles and gets more comfortable in the chair before closing his eyes. He can hear the ruffles of clothes being taken off and put on, as well as Laurent comments here and there, sometimes in English, sometimes in French, which is funny considering that Laurent was born and raised here, even though his mom was french. She must have taught him how to speak the language when he was little.

In his front jean pocket, his phone rings, forcing him to open back his eyes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting like that, but he feels even more tired than before, if that’s possible.

Reluctantly, he takes the phone out.

It’s a text from Erasmus.

“Your dad was looking for you. I told him you were working remotely, he didn’t seem quite happy…”

“Sorry…”

He puts his phone back in his pocket at the same time Laurent exits the fitting room.

“The clothes are a bit too big for me,” Laurent mumbles, annoyed, “but they’re mostly ok. How many can I take?”

“All of them? If they fit, take tem.”

Laurent looks at him like he loses his mind. Again. Maybe Damen should try to ask himself the real questions. He won’t.

“That’s going to be close to $500, Damen.”

“So? You don’t have anything to wear. It’s not like we have much of a choice anyway.”

There’s a pause and he can see Laurent trying to find something to say. There’s a vein on his forehead when he thinks really hard, that looks like it’s ready to pop out.

“I want you to keep track,” Laurent says finally. “In fact, I’ll be keeping track, too, of everything you buy for me. Then - Then when it’s all over, I’ll pay you everything.”

“I don’t care about money.”

“But I do and you should too.”

Like always, there’s no arguing with Laurent. Damen will be keeping track, then, if that’s all it takes to make Laurent happy.

The rest of the shop is easy: they find Laurent a phone (one of the less expensive, to his request), and buy food for the rest of the week. Laurent makes a list of the plates he knows how to cook, which is pretty basic, but works fine with Damen. He also says he will try to get better and it shouldn’t make Damen smile, but it does.

They’re almost out when they pass through the book sections and Laurent stops in his tracks. He’s chewing on his lower lips and looks back at Damen with his big eyes and Damen thinks, you look like a deer .

“I’ll add them to your table,” he tells him. “Go head, take what you want.”

The first book Laurent’s takes is a romantic comedy which is kinda surprising, kinda cute. The cover is pink and red, with hearts and clouds spread everywhere on it. Laurent’s fingers are gentle when they caress it.

“The books in jail were so boring. No wonder people are so depressed when they’re inside. Books are supposed to be a way to escape.”

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“Yes. It’s called Heaven’s Official Blessing. It’s… Adequate.”

Laurent continues his shopping and just like him, his taste in books is surprising and unexpected. The first one is a romantic comedy, but the second is a thriller, the third one is historical, and the fourth fantasy. He stops looking after that, but soon Laurent’s hands are carrying close to ten books and he has an apologetic look on his face.

“I can put them back,” he offers.

It would feel like taking candy out of a child's hands. Plus, Damen has more than enough space for Laurent to stock all of those while he’s staying with him.

“It’s good. Let’s get moving before the food gets too hot.”

Their shopping cart is full when they finally get out, and Damen is starting to feel the lack of sleep catching him up. Still, he’s happy they took the time to do all of this today. It’s reassuring to know that Laurent will be able to call him when needed, and to keep himself occupied. Tomorrow, he will have to go back to the office, whether he wants it or not. He also needs to speak with Ancel, and to keep Erasmus away from his place. He pushes the thought aside. Now is not the time to think of that.

They need to get their parking ticket validated before exiting the store and Laurent offers to go. While waiting for him, Damen lets himself slide down further on the shopping cart, until most of his weight is one it. He’s so exhausted. He did well not running this morning, there’s no way he would have been able to go anywhere.

Because Laurent is taking time, Damen starts looking at the people around him. The mall is quite busy today, which isn’t surprising given that Christmas is coming closer and closer. There’s a woman pushing a stroller while her baby smiles and waves at every person who dares to make eye contact with her. Ultimately, every person who looks at that little girl ends up with a smile on their face, too, like a contagious disease spreading. Soon, Kastor and Jokaste will have their own baby, a little being that will be giving them joy and happiness. Damen had thought - he had a clear idea of what his life was going to be. A job he would have loved. A partner, who also happened to be his best friend. One, two, three kids, maybe five or ten, for what he knew, the more the better. It doesn’t seem reachable anymore. Every day, that picture of a happy life gets a bit further away and no matter how hard he runs to try and catch it, he’s always too late. Soon, Kastor will have the life Damen always wanted. He’s not mad about Jokaste. He’s mad about the life that was taken away from him.

“Are you ok?” Laurent asks.

His presence startles him but he quickly puts on a smiling face. He has no idea how long Laurent has been standing next to him.

“Yes,” he lies. “I was trying to think about what we’re missing at home.”

Laurent follows his eyes and ends up on one of the giant christmas trees. It’s not what Damen was looking at, but the little girl is gone and well - that may be easier to explain, actually.

“I noticed that you don’t have a Christmas tree at home.”

“Not a big fan of Christmas. And you?”

Silence. Again. Kids are running around the tree. One, two, three. They’re laughing and playing a game with no spoken rules and yet, that they all seem to understand. Mom used to sing him songs about Christmas from her homeland, he thinks. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe it was all in his head. Sometimes he would play pretend and act as if mom was still around. It’s hard to know what is a real memory and what is not.

“I used to love it,” Laurent says finally. “My parents weren’t around much, but Auguste always made sure they were here the night we put up the Christmas tree. We would spend the day baking cookies together, and then Dad would come home with the biggest tree possible. Auguste and I would decorate it until there wasn’t any space left. Then Auguste would tell me to hop on his shoulders before handing me the star. He always said, ‘Come here, my little sun. It’s your job to get the stars shining .”

Damen’s heart is racing. Suddenly, the music is too loud, the kids are running too fast and why is it so hard to breathe? Why is it so hard, when he’s been doing this since the moment he was ripped out of his mother’s body?

“He seemed like a good brother,” he forces the words out of his mouth. They taste bad, like he’s telling a lie, but not really. Just like mom, he doesn’t know what is real about Auguste anymore.

“He was. I haven’t seen Auguste since the day you took him away from me. Seven years without my brother. He was everything to me.”

“I was just doing my job, Laurent.”

“You asked for a « protective » order and told them I shouldn’t be able to see my brother, because you fear he may hurt me, even behind bars.”

“I -”

“You were doing your job, yes. I get that, Damen. What I am saying is that you’ve done an awful job and you kept me away from the only person I loved. The only one who cared about me. I don’t even know how he’s doing. He could be dead and I wouldn’t even know.”

I was just doing my job , he wants to say, because it’s easier to admit it. To say he had been wrong and that he’s sorry for causing him so much pain. He wants mom but not really. He wants someone to love him like Auguste loved Laurent.

No, that doesn’t feel right. It’s not true. Auguste is in jail, Damen reminds himself. He hurt people. He hurt children. He hurt Laurent. Small and innocent Laurent, who’s life is even more of a mess than Damen’s. They make an odd binome, the two of them. Closer to enemies than friends. Sharing clothes while waiting for a trial. Two broken souls, left alone in a cold word, forced to work together in order to survive. Damen doesn’t hate Laurent, but he understands why Laurent would hate him. More and more, he’s starting to believe Laurent and the thought makes it hard for him to breathe.

“I apologize,” Laurent says after a while. They’re still at the mall, but the children have gone now. How long have they been standing here? “Thank you for letting me live here for a while, I shouldn’t… I won’t make comments like that anymore.”

“It’s ok,” Damen says, and he really thinks it is. “I know it’s hard for you. I don’t - you can talk to me. I won’t agree, not when it comes to Auguste, but I can listen.”

Laurent nods and stays silent again. The atmosphere is heavy and uncomfortable. Damen feels like his skin is on fire and he’s starting to get a headache. He wants to go back home. He wants to go back to sleep. They should take a nap, he thinks.

“I just miss him so much,” Laurent whispers. “You know how it is. Big brothers, they are… I was his whole life. And he was mine, too.”

No, he doesn’t know how it feels, because Kastor is working on the floor right under him and he hasn’t seen him face to face in two months. They haven’t text in four. Jokaste is six months pregnant. Kastor hadn’t taken him on his shoulders for him to put the star on the christmas tree. He didn’t get Damen a stuffed horse. A part of him tells him, again, that it was grooming, because there’s no way a brother loves his brother so much, yet he’s not so sure anymore. There’s absolutely no hate when Laurent talks about Auguste, and they haven’t been in contact in over seven years now.

“Let’s go home,” he says instead. “We’re both tired.”

[aphroditesmoon]

picture me better

gwen stacy x afab!adhd!reader (gn terms)

summary; mornings with your girlfriend gwen<3

warnings: none, breakfast making, fluff, flirty gwen

a/n: pretty short, but i haven't been writing for her in a while

♡♡♡

Gwen has her face immediately buried in the crook of your neck as her arms move to wrap around your waist from behind. She smiles againts your skin when she feels you slightly flinch at her embrace.

It was common that you wouldn't notice her until she's right behind you once you have your headphones on. You get so distracted with the music and whatever you're doing. This morning isn't an exception.

Gwen was fully shook out of sleep upon realizing that you weren't in bed when she had grazed her hand to her right and found that you weren't there. The strong smell of bananas and butter fill her nostrils, making her turn her head towards the open door of the bedroom. You must be cooking.

She was right when she wat met with the view of you flipping pancakes, completely oblivious of her existence, the music of Weyes Blood playing loud enough for the sounds to leak out. The noise of the kettle however, is the only thing Gwen truly hears as she watches you continue cooking breakfast, back slightly leaning againts her.

"I thought you were sleeping, you looked really tired." You spoke loudly, unaware you were loud. She shook her head againts your skin. "I am tired, smelled you cooking though." She replied, grinning.

You laughed at that, tilting your head to see her face. "Well, you can go back to sleep after breakfast." You promised. Gwen opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by your quick movement to turn the kettle off as it finishes boiling.

"You making tea?" She asks. You don't respond, hands busy pouring the hot water inside two different cat eared designed mugs before adding teabags and sugar packets. "Babe." She called again.

You twist your neck back, glancing at her. "Hmm?" She shook her head slightly, a small smile filling her face. "Is that tea?" She repeats her question louder.

You nod your head vigorously. "Unless you want coffee?" She gives a quick no thank you before walking towards you to wrap her hands around you again. "Have I told you about my tea collection I had as a child?" You asked suddenly, hand finding her owns that are attached on your stomach, intertwining your fingers as you let your english breakfast tea cools down.

Gwen gives a sound of confusion as she shook her head no. "I use to have multiple fruit flavored tea bags my dad bought for me on his trip to Cameron Highlands." She had no idea what you were talking about.

"I only drank the strawberry flavored ones though, so what i did with the others is I shelved them on the glass cupboard you use to put trophies and stuff, and my mom was extremely confused." Gwen snorted and released you to be able to move the drinks on the dining table, watching you move towards the pancakes next.

"I think I'm as confused as her." She admitted. "Its a collection! Like stamps- or whatever little trinkets people like to keep to show off- I mean, who else can say they have a cupboard full of fruit flavored teabags?" You say, exasperated.

She lets out a laugh at how defensive you are, taking a seat as you present her with a flawless banana pancake. "Except the strawberry ones of course." You added hastily. "Of course."

Gwen frowns as you put a giant bottle of honey in front of her, taking a seat of your own. "Honey?" She look at you. "We're out of syrup." You tell her. "I thought you said you'd buy it last week?" You smiled at her sheepishly as you start to slather your pancake with honey. "I forgot."

The ghost-spider squints her eyes, smiling knowingly at you. "I'll buy it tomorrow." She states before diving in on her breakfast. She doesn't miss the grateful glint in your eyes as you eat your own breakfast, headphones off.

The two of you finished the food quite quickly, Gwen making exaggerated sounds of pleasure everytime she took a bite, fishing a giggle out of you. She also made sure to be the one who did the dishes, pushing you away from the sink when you tried to help.

"You know, if you keep cooking and doing these kind of stuff for me, i might just marry you soon enough." You roll your eyes, placing a kiss on her cheeks while she drys her hands. "How very romantic, don't make those kind of promises though, I'll use them againts you."

Her hands finds yours once they're dried up. She pulls up your right fist to her lips, kissing each and every finger before kissing your knuckles. "You better. Now, speaking of holding yourself againts me-" You groaned aloud, shoving her lightly as she laughs out loud at your annoyance.

"I want to go back to bed, come on." She whines, an arm around your shoulder as she drags you up onto the staircase, leading to your room.

"You're so boring." She hears you murmer to yourself, receiving a slap on your butt l, making you run headfirst into your room as you laugh at her. "I'm not boring." She growls jokingly, chasing after you.

[coldshrugs]

help i love them so much

“Good morning. Want some help with whatever it is you’re making?” “That’d be nice.” He finally pulls his head out of the fridge, a small tub of butter in hand. “Can you make pancakes?” “Only if we can listen to my breakfast playlist.” He knows better than to ask, but his ears go a little red as he nods in agreement, hiding his slight smile with a dipped head and busy hands. Io finds a little speaker and starts the music; Send Me on My Way plays at the lowest volume they can stand, though she suspects Alberic would find the song choice charming. They get to work. Io mixes a batter from scratch, adding some overripe bananas Alberic had sitting on the counter and a little cinnamon too. It’s dangerous to dance while whisking but Estinien’s rumbly chuckle is worth the splatter on the counter. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed. She watches him crack eggs to the beat and mumble lyrics he clearly doesn’t know.  The sunrise comes into view through the kitchen window, lining the room in pale red-gold. The light catches on the edges of Estinien’s face, shines in his hair, and settles warm on his skin as he works at the stove, looking so effortlessly content, and Io would move this entire mountain to hold his face in her hands. Beep-beep! He reaches for his phone on the counter between them. The action doesn’t interest Io until he pauses his cooking to lean against the counter, smiling in the shy way he sometimes hides from her. The way that makes her almost question where they stand. Only he’s not hiding it. Her stomach turns when he laughs, eyes softly focused on the screen. “Hey,” she says, waving a batter-covered spoon in his direction. “If you burn my eggs, I’ll never forgive you.” “On it, boss.” He returns to the stove, adding bacon slices to another pan. The song changes as Io moves to his side to make her pancakes. He knows this one and hums along from the start, and she can forget about whomever he’s talking to. It’s not important because he’s here with her now. She sings while he hums, their quiet voices accompanied by the sizzle of bacon and scrambled eggs. Alberic strolls into the kitchen, making a show of his yawn. Estinien rolls his eyes but his good mood doesn’t budge. They toss ‘good morning’s back and forth as he pours his coffee, turns the speaker’s volume up, and sits at the table in a nook between the kitchen and living room. When it’s ready, they arrange breakfast in front of him.  As they sit around the table, passing plates and paper napkins, listening to 60s music while the cabin smells like cinnamon and syrup, Io feels at home for the first time in over a year. Being with them is easy. Alberic leads most of the conversation, telling them stories of his youthful misadventures and then about Estinien. His every word is fond, proud. If Io didn’t know them, she would never guess he wasn’t Alberic’s son. But he is, isn’t he? Estinien doesn’t say much, but he’s comfortable, grinning through a mouthful of food they made themselves, cheek held heavily in his hand. She thinks he might be made for lazy mornings like this.