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pangtasias-atelier · 1 year

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Yet Another Day In The Life

Warning: This is a fetish story!!!

Sooooo, this is a super old story that's pretty much been fully finished for about an entire damn year. I have not looked at it in so long but I do remember being excited and also a lil embarrassed when I finished this which is why ive never uploaded it here for so damn long ahdbdbdb. But hopefully it still holds up!

I figured it'd at least be perfect for today since it is the 4th year of me actually putting myself to write 🥳

So thanks again to everyone for sticking with me and enjoying my writing 🥺 and hope you enjoy more of my super self indulgent bullshit that like only I care about asbjdnsbs

The sugary sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies wafts through the entirety of the massive room for all of its fattened occupants to enjoy and bask in the pleasant scent. With all of them used to the gentle, homely smell, the joy of fresh cookies is in the back of their minds as the several dozens of cookies bake in the oven. Even as the timer buzzes and dings, all of them pay no attention to it. All except Corrin.

Reading a book as he lies on his back on a couch, the fat dragon takes up a good portion of the couch. Not fat enough to where his gut can sag off the seating, the sides of his belly manage to barely reach to the edge. A pillow to support his head, Corrin uses his pronounced chest as a resting spot for his book while he reads it. His girthy thighs substantially wide, he only fully rests one of them on the couch; the other leg hangs off the couch with not enough room for both to be comfortable together.

Upon hearing the very first ring of the timer, he hurriedly inserts a bookmark before setting his book down. Building up some momentum to lift his big body, Corrin grunts as he rushes into a seated position. As soon as he stands up, he scurries over to turn the timer off. His snug shirt that shows the doughy shape of his gut begins to ride up from his rushed movement. Bits of his gut peak out, his stomach jiggling and sloshing from his hurried movement. Fiddling with the timer to turn it off, he nearly drops it from his equal parts excitement and panic. Afterwards, he stares at the risen cookies with wide eyes, his face nearly plastered to the oven’s glass door. His tail swishes behind his plush, padded ass from his growing impatience and nerves. His rear manages to hold a surprising amount of definition to it. The two rounded ass cheeks large enough to squash another person are held firmly in his pants. "Kiran, I think they're done!" So afraid that the cookies will burn to cinders the instant his attention is diverted away from the oven, Corrin merely flaps his hand to gesture for Kiran to come over while he continues to watch with glee. "Come on!" Corrin refuses to take out the cookies based on only his own decision, the insecure dragon unable to make many choices on his own without fear of making a mistake.

Kiran laughs at the restlessness and excitement behind Corrin's voice, the usually soft-spoken voice louder and faster. "I'll be there in a second. If you think they're ready, take 'em out. I trust you," Currently occupied in his own task, Kiran's gentle smile widens as he hears the slight clang and scraping of metal.

Kiran rests on one of the several couches in the room. Not seated on the seat cushion, he sits partially on the arm rest. His ass on the arm rest, the rest of his body rests on the couch's occupant. He sinks in the plush, soft fat as he rests against Tibarn.

The laguz royal is absolutely massive. So preciously plump and large, his width fills up the entirety of the couch's span. The comfortable furniture — despite being a two seater with extra room — can only fit Tibarn. He rests his wide, plush arms against the top of the backrest; he sinks into the cushiony couch, Tibarn's sagging jowls quivering as he takes deep, labored breaths from having just finished eating. His titanic gut resting heavily on his massive thighs, the billowing fat seeps on forward to get dragged down by gravity. Gravity does its job in dragging his gut down, but the plush carpet does the rest, Tibarn’s gut plopped on top of it from so much fat swaddling his fine figure. His gut churns due to all the food inside him, his gut a bit less saggy as it usually is. His extra doughy chest seems to fold in on itself with so much fat, the sides of them an extra love handle to grab. His moobs cascade down onto his gut, the billowing breasts large enough to the point where a bra would be helpful for Tibarn. Tibarn’s ass absolutely massive, each definitonless cheek fills up a spot on the two seater alone as they splay behind Tibarn’s prodigious figure. His door crushing thighs are plastered to the couch like the rest of his figure. His thighs covered in squishable adipose, his roll riddled thighs make moving a struggle for Tibarn. So ponderously wide, they squish against one another most of the time. And the few moments where they manage to separate from each other, his humongous belly takes residence between the two. With movement being such a hassle at his preposterous size — Tibarn being able to move a marvel to those not used to seeing the massively fattened king — such an activity is usually reserved for a few moments, such as getting comfortable to eat food or getting food. Not having to worry about that with Kiran feeding him, he pleasantly rests on the couch as Kiran wipes away at the specks of food dusting his lips and squirrel-like cheeks.

“You sure know how to cook,” Tibarn cocks a grin at Kiran. Lifting up a heavy hand to pat his gut, the taxing effort of merely lifting it makes him rethink his action, Tibarn plopping his arm down.

“Only the finest,” Kiran gently dabs at Tibarn’s cheek with a damp napkin. Upon finishing cleaning Tibarn’s face, he leans in for a quick smooch. “And you sure know how to put it away,” Kiran whispers in Tibarn’s ear, one hand draped over Tibarn’s arm for support while the other hand leisurely rests on the top of Tibarn’s substantial gut. His hand slowly and gently rubs the parts of Tibarn’s gut he can reach.

Tibarn guffaws. His raucous laughter slowly peters out into light chuckling from his jiggling corpulence upsetting his still stuffed gut. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” Despite his own self assuredness, Tibarn lets out a few interspersed huffs from his turbulent tummy. Though he quickly tries to cover said discomfort up with another grin. His cheerful yet cocky demeanor is unable to hide his slight discomfort or the way his eyes seem to droop, a food coma calling for Tibarn after his feast.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have an eye for talent,” Kiran gives Tibarn’s gut one final rub. Using his now free hand, he brings it to Tibarn’s face. He cups a hefty cheek with the palm of his hand, Tibarn’s jowls squishing against and filling up the entire palm, and kisses him once more. Enjoying his presence and his everything, it takes him a few more peaceful moments before Kiran manages to pull himself away from Tibarn. “I’ll let you digest your food in peace,” Kiran grazes Tibarn’s arm while he gets up, as if to savor Tibarn’s presence as long as possible.

Tibarn lets out an agreeable hum as the coils of sleep tighten their grip on his stuffed laguz. He smiles fondly all the while by the time he manages to fall asleep.

Now finished, Kiran goes to check on Corrin. But first, he stops by the seated Seteth and Duma.

The task of summoner a daunting job filled with a multitude of tasks, the job had gotten easier for Kiran over the years. Exceptional helpers also eased the burden, especially with Seteth's experience as being the second hand man in running Garreg Mach Monastery.

The two of them are accompanied by a small handful of papers and a multitude of snacks for them to mindlessly munch on. While both of them work on their own respective task of assigning heroes for different jobs and tasks, Duma's is reviewed by Seteth afterwards. A fact that the divine dragon loathes. Which he makes evident by his furious scowl on his plump face and his whitened knuckles from gripping onto each paper as Seteth gingerly grabs it.

"What is the issue this time?" Duma's pointed ears are down turned while his brows are furrowed. His irritation is normally something to behold, but his fattened form gives him a softer, cuter appearance. A much, much softer appearance. Nowhere near as large as Tibarn's bloated self, Duma's size still puts others to shame with his fattened state. All of Duma's musculature befitting one known as the War Father is now gone from his engorged figure. Incredibly wide, Duma uses two reinforced chairs to withhold and withstand his weighty girth. Not that the chairs fully encompass all of his width, Duma's large ass oozing off both ends of the chairs. The armor that once adorned his cutting figure no longer remains. Instead, Duma wears plain clothes that are strained by his corpulence. His shorts bunch around Duma's meaty thighs, the big, lardy legs slightly squished from the hems at the bottom. His thighs also struggle from the table with wood digging into his bulging thighs. His gut also struggles against the table; the sturdy wood presses into his squishy lightly tanned belly that overflows onto the table. The bottom portion of his gut seeps out from his tent-like shirt. And the part of his stomach that is covered up stretches out his shirt, his chest bulging and straining the tight fabric.

Waiting for a response, Duma's pudgy fist is clenched while Seteth considers how to gently explain things.

"The team you planned out has no problems in terms of performing their tasks. But perhaps considering their preferences would be beneficial to them in adjusting to a world such as this," Seteth smooths out the partially wrinkled paper and points a pudgy finger at the planned out team. "Take Micaiah for example. While I am sure she would perform exceedingly well regardless of her allies, being in a team where all her allies hail from Jugdral would make her feel left out. So," Seteth strikes out one of the names before writing down Sothe underneath it. "How about we help her feel more comfortable by putting her with someone she already knows,"

Seteth's plump cheeks dimple as he joyfully smiles at his own decision, having seen the way Micaiah speaks of Sothe similarly to the way he speaks of Flayn.

"Is that all?"

"Well no. But you've already quickly caught on to the other points," Seteth gingerly places the now complete paper with the rest of his stack. "Excellent work,"

Duma grumbles to himself, the praise feeling rather hollow despite the earnestness behind Seteth's voice. At least finally finished with his small amount of paperwork, he reaches for a brownie and rests back into his seats. His plush jowls are unable to hide his frown, even as he finally bothers to acknowledge Kiran.

"It seems that your ideals require much more babying than I once thought," Duma shoves the entire brownie into his mouth. Chewing away his anger, he refuses to make eye contact with Kiran despite his criticism.

"It is not babying," Kiran enunciates the word as he responds to Duma. "If we are to endure hardships, then is it not best to have those we appreciate by our side?" Kiran places a hand against Duma's bulky, flabby bicep; the layer of flab squishes under Kiran's hand while he gently pats it.

Duma grunts in acknowledgement of Kiran's response. The petulant dragon is partially mollified, Duma still sulking in his slight irritation. Yet his attitude is better as can be seen by the mild blush on his face, Kiran's meaning not lost on him from the way Kiran now drapes himself over Duma's wide, stout back. "Perhaps," Is all Duma can mutter, unwilling to admit his flawed thinking.

"I know I much prefer experiencing stuff with you at my side. All of you," Kiran reaches down to grope at Duma's gut. Grabbing a meaty handful of his plump belly, Kiran uses his other hand to bring a brownie to Duma's mouth.

"I enjoy your presence as well," Duma murmurs. Never having thought of being in his current situation, the powerful divine dragon can't find himself able to complain. Especially as he opens his mouth to devour the treat offered to him.

"Keep up the good work," With one final pat and a quick kiss, Kiran leaves Duma alone to mull over his notion of ideals and to also stuff his face in the process. Walking around the table, he heads on over to give Seteth a kiss as well.

"All of the rest of the month's tasks should now be accounted for. All we need is your approval," Ever serious, Seteth promptly relays his completed work to Kiran first upon recovering from the kiss.

"Thank you for your dedication," With the way Kiran's eyes linger on Seteth's pot belly, his meaning is made apparent to Seteth. "Enjoy some well deserved rest,"

"Gladly," More accustomed to rest and relaxation from his time in Askr, Seteth gratefully accepts the leisure time rather than forcefully attempting to find something to work on like before. He returns Kiran's earlier favor by giving him a kiss as well before the summoner walks off.

Finally checking on the ever anxious Corrin, Kiran grins at the pudgy dragon's struggling little peppy bounces. Despite the chubby dragon’s fears and worries, Corrin is able to work at a steady pace when tasked with doing something by himself.

Corrin leans against the counter to meticulously take his time frosting the edges of the hexagram sugar cookies; his plump tummy squishes against the edge of the counter while he leans forward for a stable position. He maintains a stiff, rigid posture while consumed by his task.

Taking a peak at Corrin’s progress, Kiran nods appraisingly at the dragon’s effort in coming so far at applying himself to the culinary art of baking, Corrin now a far ways off from his nervous struggling when it came to anything resembling mixing and his unyielding nature of uncertainty which used to lead to either undercooked or overcooked sweets — sometimes both at once. “They’re coming out great,” Kiran takes a spot against the counter as well, resting an elbow on the surface as he stares at Corrin’s face and the way he ever so slightly sticks his tongue out while concentrating.

Corrin’s eyes never falter from the cookies; he simply hums in approval of Kiran’s praise. Dedicated to ensuring the treat comes out as pretty as he can make it, Corrin only really making the sickeningly, sugary confection cause of an offhand remark from Grima craving said cookies — a fact that Kiran secretly and forcefully made Grima aware of — Corrin only takes his eyes off of the cookie after giving the last cookie a small tap with the piping bag to anchor the frosting as he lifts up the bag. With him finally losing his concentration, Corrin notices Kiran’s staring and immediately begins to blush. He fiddles with the piping bag before the tube slips out of his hand which resultantly causes him to scramble and catch it before it unceremoniously plops safely away from the cookies or anything else important and onto the counter.

“I-I thank you,” Corrin blurts out with little thought. His chubby face is a furious red while he fiddles with his fingers.

“For what?” Kiran teasingly challenges Corrin’s random thank you, a small smile etched on his face as he waits for his reaction. When none come, Kiran softly lets out a cheerful huff. Deciding to no longer make him suffer, Kiran closes the already insignificant bit of space between them.

Corrin instinctively leans into the embrace despite his increasingly reddening face. His nails dig into the back of Kiran’s coat as the summoner kisses him, Corrin tilting his head up due to the height difference. His mind no longer registers the way Kiran’s arms barely wrap around his waist, instead choosing to concentrate on getting as physically close as he can get. Corrin’s firm grip begins to loosen when Kiran slowly pulls away with an adoring grin. Taken out of the heat of the moment, Corrin doesn’t tense up like he used to but he does lose a portion of his confidence. So he quickly ushers himself back to his work of finishing the final step of flooding the sugar cookies, to which Kiran gives him a reassuring gentle pat on the back and a final chuckle before leaving him to his hobby.

Checking up on Grima and Freyr last, Kiran heads to the two's secluded little corner of the room by the makeshift library. Though only Grima is taking advantage of the varied texts available to him; Freyr instead practices his playing as he plucks his harp.

Grima an absolute sight to behold, the wondrously eyeful of the obese fell dragon is juxtaposed from the monotony of him simply reading in contemplative silence. Seated in a wide two seater, the entirety of Grima's bulging hips fill out the couch's width. The fabric of his beige pants work tirelessly to contain all of his ponderous poundage. Ridiculously pear shaped, his thighs smoosh against the worn out couch, a massive Grima sized divot down the center of the couch. Grima's legs are spread as far wide as they possibly can to allow for as much room between his fat smothered, doughy thighs. Though, most of Grima's thighs are obscured by his bulbous gut. The stuffed lard is exposed from his too small shirt that barely goes far enough in barely covering his bulging breasts that can smother a person's face. His stomach sags down his spread out thighs. Despite the several pounds of food currently being digested, the ponderous orb of fat shows no difference in firmness or fullness from its already great size. It wobbles occasionally from Grima's breathing. The lower half of his gut oozes on down past his bulky calves and onto the soft carpeting on the floor; meanwhile, his upper half is upheld from his broad thighs, the rolls of flab bulging onto half the width of his thighs. Grima's calves are slightly pushed further aside from his drooping gut, his feet also slightly absorbed by his bulging calves. Despite reading, Grima's bulky arms are too taxing to hold a book for an extensive period of time. The barrels for arms rest uselessly to his side at an angle from so much fat bunched up together while he leans back into his chair. Instead, Grima uses his magic to maintain his book in an upright position; the large volume rests on the exposed skin of his upper chest.

While Grima silently reads on his massive couch, Freyr plucks his harp while seated on a specially reinforced ottoman. Unfortunately for the obese goat, the walnut finished harp is now harder to play not only from his sausage finger but also from his gut and thighs getting in the way. Particularly bottom heavy, the big, heavy set man’s ass juts out off the ottoman. His door wide hips partially seep off the edges of the ottoman as well, the piece of furniture made in mind for someone a couple hundred pounds lighter than the massive dream king. At least, Freyr’s outfit is made to accommodate someone at his weight: his flowing maxi skirt is amply wide enough to wrap around his entire waistline and cover his doughy rear and hips — though he still leaves a generously high slit up the left side that goes up past his knee all the way up to his upper thigh. His stomach sits contently on his thighs to cover up the waistband of his skirt, Freyr’s generous heaping love handles drooping far enough to cover the waistband from the side. The fabric bulges out at the end of his waistband from having to cover his large ass. His gut partially obscures the dangling gold jewelry that lines his waist, the brilliantly gold metal draped around his rotund thighs. Freyr also has sparkling bands of gold on his arms and legs. The jewelry is snug on his flabby biceps, the metal slightly big enough to where it squishes his flab but still isn’t uncomfortably snug on him. Despite his upright posture, his gut takes up the small portion of the ottoman not taken up by his thighs, the flabby pile of fat is plopped onto the soft fabric while also being slightly squished by the harp’s soundbox from Freyr angling the instrument. His thighs also struggle to stay somewhat close together with him needing to use the pedals at the base of the harp.

But, he ignores his minor setbacks to instead focus on his playing. Freyr plays a slower piece than usual, both in part to fit the environment of relaxing and also to give his bulging arms an easier time with moving to pluck at different strings. Freyr only pauses for an ever brief moment when Grima speaks after several minutes of comfortable silence between the two.

"Enough with your enchantments, you fool," Grima's eyes stay fixed on his book even as he flips the page with magic.

Freyr lets out a deep, breathy chuckle to himself. Continuing his melodic playing, his eyes never once open as he responds to Grima's claim. "You and I are both well versed in magic that even I know that sneaking anything of the sort past you would be far from trivial," Freyr lifts one of the pedals to play in a sharp tone. "And what sort of effect do you suspect me of casting on you,"

Grima refuses to give Freyr any sort of immediate response as he fumbles to come up with an answer. The fell dragon still struggling to come to terms with his own evolving emotions, Grima couldn't help but shift the blame onto others — especially with his growing sense of ease and comfort in Askr. So, instead of a proper response, Grima elects to scoff and resume reading as if he had never said anything in the first place.

And the two return to their comfortable silence, Grima reading and Freyr playing the harp. Even when Kiran takes a seat and joins the two, silence continues to envelop them. He basks in Freyr's music, the instrumentation sounding like no other when played by a divine being. It's only when Freyr finishes his piece and slowly places the harp back in its upright standing position that the silence is broken once more, this time by Freyr himself.

"What did you think?" Freyr's eyes are partially opened. His soft, doughy cheeks appear even more rounded as they dimple from him smirking at Kiran's expression of awe.

“I’ve never heard that song before. It was wonderful,” Kiran shifts in his seat to rest leisurely on the arm rest.

“It was a song of my own invention, so I would hope that I would be the first to play it for you; I needed to alter my usual melody so as to not accidentally infuse any of my magic into the sound, lest those who would wound my character with baseless accusations find an actual case,”

“Do not even think to speak on my correct ideas; just because you are under contract does not mean you are powerless to tap into your full power,” Grima snaps his book shut with magic. The purple aura radiating from the item slowly dissipates before falling down with no more magic holding it up; it falls down onto Grima’s chest, getting caught for a bit from the plush landing surface for a moment until it slides down Grima’s gut and eventually reaches the floor. “These contracts may hold those weakling humans, but it is nothing more than a formality for us,” Grima’s biceps strain and wobble as he sluggishly pulls himself off the creaking and groaning couch.

Freyr and Kiran are now both turned to face the irritated Grima; the two watch him exert all the energy in his short, obese body to simply lift himself up off the couch. It takes a couple minutes for Grima to fully stand up. Despite his access to arcane magic from having divine dragon blood infused to him, lifting up his serious poundage is no easy task, which leaves him with his entire face a bright, exhausted red as he huffs to regain his breath. He keeps a meaty hand on the armrest of the couch to keep himself standing.

Freyr allows Grima to indulge in his brief respite before speaking, Grima pausing his waddling upon hearing him speak. “You are correct in stating that the contracts hold little sway over those like us. Yet, I would never wish to directly interfere too much in the future of other realms. So why is it that you have not acted upon anything when you have much more reason to do so?” Freyr calmly maintains his posture while on the still too small ottoman. With his hands no longer occupied by his harp, he has his hands collapsed together in front of him, the mitts for hands resting on his exposed blubbery gut.

Mulling over Freyr’s words, Grima’s eyes narrow as he finds himself cornered.

Before anything more can possibly come out of Grima’s explosive temperament, Kiran finally stands up. He places a hand on Grima’s portly shoulder while looking down to make eye contact with him. “What Freyr means to say, is that we realize the changes you’ve made in Askr. And no one is criticizing you for it. In fact, we’re proud of you. I’m proud of you,” Kiran has to really bend down to give Grima a peck on the cheek, Kiran pressing against swathes of fat to reach his jowls. But the fell dragon relents, standing still and grumbling to himself with a now pinker hue on his face from embarrassment — praise from Kiran always getting to him.

“Now, why don’t you join the rest? Movie night is about to start,” Kiran gives Grima a small push, the impact doing nothing to budge Grima even an inch. Kiran shifts his attention over to Freyr who still has a small smirk on his face. Kiran offers him a hand, pulling up the large goat from his seat.

“You didn't say anything wrong,,,” Kiran groans to himself from being unable to find any ill intent or poor choice of words from Freyr. “But-” Kiran is interrupted by Freyr taking initiative and kissing him before he can say anything else. One hand on Freyr’s back, Kiran’s other hand rests against his chest, getting an overflowing handful of Freyr’s tits.

“But, next time I shall go easier on him,” Freyr pats Kiran’s head before heading off to join the others without another word.

Kiran now left groaning and muttering to himself like Grima earlier, he scoffs after gaining back a semblance of coherency. Leaving for a quick moment, he goes to the dining hall to go grab the night’s dinner.

By the time he returns with an entire cart loaded to capacity with food, Kiran’s face slowly begins to hurt as his smile widens at the sight.

Corrin ever eager to prove himself, the chubby dragon moves at a brisk pace to ferry over his immense stash of baked treats from today. His blubbery lil tummy constantly escapes past his tight black shirt despite Corrin tugging the fabric down every so often. And his tail that drags behind him occasionally bumps into furniture from the rush. His efforts are clearly visible however, the multiple tables around the living area filled with several trays of confectionary goods.

Seated to the side, Duma is in charge of the popcorn; he refuses to make them any other way than his own. With a large metal pot beside him, Duma supplies his own fire to heat and cook the kernels. Stopping at just the right time, Duma perfecting his technique, he immediately fills up a mega tub with nothing but the cooked snack. Despite working with such direct heat, the immense divine dragon only has a smidge of sweat on his portly face which he fans his shirt in an attempt to cool himself.

Tibarn at a far too large size to provide much assistance in getting ready, he simply provides his presence. He still has the dignity to at least wait to fully dig into the snack provided, instead only occasionally putting away a treat like the rest. Seated at the center with only a slight angle, Tibarn has a direct view to the empty, barren wall. Unwilling to quiet begin his binging, TIbarn does at least leisurely drink, unaffected by the amount he puts away.

Grima much the same, he sits on his couch with nothing much to do but wait. Filling up the entire space, he tiredly waits for the movie to start to begin his binging. In the meanwhile, he does tear through the entire tray of sugar cookies at record speed. Grima has a dusting of crumbs and sugar over his chest, the remnants of his snacking landing perfectly on his jutting chest and expansive gut.

Seteth holds several tomes in his hands. Seated on a two seater, he only takes up half of the space. He slowly goes through the pile of tomes to remember the synopsis of each one and to pull out the ones most recently watched. Tables taken up from food, he places the much larger pile of watched films to the empty side of the couch and places the smaller pile of movies on his sizable belly to hold them. After going through the entire stack, he stands up to hand the pile of available movies to Freyr.

Freyr seated by himself between Duma’s and Tibarn’s seats, the obese man has a generous portion of room left for himself. Though if another were to sit with him, the accommodation would be uncomfortable for the other person. Upon receiving the stack of tomes, he places them beside himself, the books nearly wedged between plush lard from his gut and the armrest. With it Duma’s turn to select the film, Freyr reads out the synopsis of the works.

Kiran arriving has the group’s attention diverted for a moment as they settle in and make their last minute adjustments to get comfortable. Handing out everyone’s tray of food, Kiran first grabs the selected film from Duma.

“The Dragon Wore Black,” Kiran inspects the cover of the tome as Freyr hands him it.

“Duma preferred something a bit more intense,” Freyr responds to Kiran’s confusion about the movie on revenge. Freyr in turn accepts his two plates of food from Kiran in exchange for the book.

“I wish to see the human’s depictions of dragons. And to know if they truly comprehend the depths of our willpower,” Duma smiles to himself, having low hopes for the movie but curious to see how it plays out regardless.

Kiran says nothing else as he places the magical tome upright into a stand. The summoner not entirely sure of how the thing works, the device — which works similar to a projector — had been for sale by one of the Anna’s who claimed it could display fantastic works for private viewing. Light envelops the entirety of the empty wall, the movie immediately starting with the tome slotted inside the device. Quickly handing out the rest of the food, Kiran only sits down when the only platter that remains is his own dish. Seated on his own seat next to where Seteth and Corrin sit, Kiran smiles to himself before finally paying attention to the movie, glad for his time in Askr.

#my writing #the s supports #fat emblem #feeder emblem #fat fiction #ssbhm #male weight gain #weight gain #fat story

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hopeheartfilia · 4 months

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im playing unpacking and im at the aprt where they move into the house and

damn my arm atarted hurting, ive been leaning in a dumb position

but also they are so cute? I love our lebsians? And they have a nursery now??

Anyway, while we all dislike her boyfriend, at least she got his oven towel in the breakup

Also i can appreciate how annoying his coffee set up is while also knowing that the one at home is kinda worse

but yes she moved in with a coffee snob and when she moved out she may not have become one but she did shoe up witha french press and better coffee... this truly be how it goes

also i love her girlfriend and i think its so cute how she had like a seperate dresser for her and she moved all of her clothes already and just, it was cute. But also tell me why arranging the bathroom was so complicated

i very much am used to bathrooms with a bit more storage space i guess

which is probably why our bathroom has all the cleaning and most of the medical supplies as well as various refils for things

#unpacking #the game is great #but it does get a little tiring if you jsut do the whole thing at once #but it is indeed some really nice envioremental storytelling

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itsstraykids · 9 months

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hello hello! i had the absolute fuckall busy 2days, hope u didnt mind the accidental ghosting. i kept wanting to reply but i was feeling too tired to do it lmao. hello! hope ur doing well! i absolutely love the word coinkydink btw, im stealing it thank u. the fact!!!!!!!! that u do music production!!!!!!!! so cool!!!! consider me amazed yayy. ive always been unhealthily obsessed with chan's vocals, seeing him sing, esp with as much love and enjoyment/passion as he does is chills inducing to me. and yeah!!! his skills are so impressive, esp 3racha with rockstar album i very much agree!! i still cant pick a favorite song, and its funny bcs that's seldom the case no matter how much i love the whole album. cover me was played a lot tho (i was soo proud of hyunjin!!) and their vocalss yess!! seungmin han i.n leeknow and then ofc chan felix hyunjin changbin, they all did such good jobs, and their voice shined a notch brighter yes!! (mildly obsessed everytime changbin sings btw i am a sucker for it) their vocal heavy songs have always been some of my beloved!!!! never-ending story that i never get enough of, levanter and in christmas evel the way 24-25 was my immediate favorite! skz and ballads is smth mind-scratchingly wonderful, like always. what are some of your other favorite kpop groups?? what genres do u like as well, like i really love and find myself obsessed with k-indie, if we are talking korean language songs? what kind of songs do u like and listen to!! just wanted to know more abt u as well!! esp now that ik u produce too!! and just wanted to say ur art!!!! its so amazing and gorgeous!! so talented!!

^^apologies if i sound mildly incoherent (ik i do) its so damn cold outside both my face and brain have made it a mission to resemble chunks of ice cream so im!! thinking in circles p ls excuse. hope u have a good day an amazing week and great end of year and holidays!!

no worries at ALL dude the holidays are crazy, i really like this secret santa project but there’s so much else going on it’s also a lot 😅 yes! i’m stoked you liked rockstar. i thought it was so good, i was really in love with the songs/choreo/vibes and the members all seemed so happy! OMG YES Changbin’s voice is so good…why doesn’t he sing more it’s crazy…i have rewatched their conodoll episode a couple times because all their voices are just wonderful to listen to

i like 24-25 too! and that music video is just too sweet, it gave me cavities lmao. my fave kpop groups are skz, txt, and my OG (and forever) kpop band is shinee! i’ve been getting into xdinary heroes too. it seemed like everyone released amazing EPs this october-november, i was living for it. good music was raining down left and right.

i like so many genres in all languages! rock, punk, electronic, indie—i used to listen to a lot of k-indie (nell, the black skirts, the koxx, clazziquai) but now i don’t really know any more recent bands. i’d love to hear what your favorite songs/bands are!! i’m in a finding-new-music phase right now. i just found out about this new zealand band called the beths, their album “expert in a dying field” is a lyrical masterpiece.

thank you for your sweet compliments!! haha i’m trying to get better at portraits…oof, sorry it’s so cold where you are! bundle up and i hope you get some sun soon!! i’m in california so it’s actually really nice weather. exactly like the rest of the year. i do miss having seasons. but it’s also nice to go to the beach and not freeze lmao

best of luck in the final week before the holidays!! gonna be a crazy one i think, i have to bake stuff until my oven gives up and cries

#skz secret santa 2023

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tandytoaster · 4 years

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The horrible feeling of looking at something at the farmers market, the vendor talking to you, but you knowing all along you can't buy it but the vendor keeps talking and talking and talking and you feel really really bad but you simply cannot bring home these wheat infested cakes home or even in your car where your celiac girlfriend usually is and honestly you ONLY just Glanced at the cakes and the dude started talking to you about them for 5 minutes telling you how good they are and you think hm maybe i could buy some for my grandparents but that still means putting this gluten item in my car, me holding this gluten item in my hand, both things my girlfriend touches regularly and still has a hard time holding my hand even if I've washed my hands 5 times after touching the gluten.

So you cry

#noop nooping #Farmers market the other day was not great socially some kid grabbed my arm BUT IT WAS SWEET HE WAS JUST CURIOUS but his mom got mad at him #UNDERSTANDBLY #But twice i stopped too long and looked at stupid fuckim gluten products when i kmew damn well i shouldnt #and i used to buy cupcakes from this one lady and now i dont because. always around becc so no gluten #and even though she does havd wheat alt foods THEYRE STILL BAKED IN THE SAME OVEN #so no point #and she probably wonders why i dont buy her cupcakes anymore and i feel horrible about it i feel like ive betrayed her or maybe she thinks i #had a bad experience maybe #if you go to the farmers market enough OR ANYWHERE ppl start to recognize you man #i get discounts on my bell peppers dude bc i buy them every week #my grandparents went last week for me bc i was working and nanny told the dude and she told me he remembers md knows who i am and im like #damn thats cool!!!!!#anyway i miss convenience and being able to buy whatever food i wanted but its about keeping my gf safe which is obviously much more #important because i dont want her to get sick n become malnourished n potentially develop colon cancer because her intestines are so damagad

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matchamabs · 4 years

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BOTW (and AOC) GUYS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE

get ready for some heinous opinions! so im ranking the guys in botw by how hot they are and im taking No criticism. idk if i forgot anyone but i tried

check it out under the cut

sorry but this twink is just. average. like Painfully average. hes like white bread. therefore he gets an average score. i can appreciate hes a cute lookin guy? but like. thats it. if u fancy link u probably like mayonnaise. he looks like mayonnaise. grow a fuckin tache or smth dude for the love of god. 5/10 very normal.

ok im a diehard bird simp but like... this boy is fuckin ugly lmao. hes pretty at the same time tho? nice smile, nice eyes, nice voice but yellow eyebrows? green eyes? red makeup? clown. he’s a bird clown. tho i guess some ppl find clowns hot so this one’s for the pennywise crowd. 5/10. he’s a 10/10 in my heart tho.

now this is a MAN. u got the good smile, the strong arms, the r i p p l i n g m u s c l e s. he is a man u can trust. his arm hair is a bit wild but if u dont like his incredible facial hair, then.... idc. 7/10. they made a rock handsome. thats impressive. 3 points off for the forehead vagina tho. dont like that.

hot fucking damn. this is what we in the biz call a raging dilf. he looks like the kind of dad that never grew out of his punk rock phase. idk how i feel abt the broken traffic light look but its fine. just look into his gorgeous eyes and listen 2 his deep gravelly voice as he tells u to fuck off and leave him alone. perfection. the voice already makes him like 20/10 but the mullet is fucking awful and he should be penalised for that. 8/10. grow a fringe like the rest of us.

ah the shape of water... ok yeah the fish is fuckable ill grant u that. hes All fuckin torso tho and his eyes r constantly pointing in different directions which is not the Most Flattering Look and he Will hit u with his head handlebars and it will hurt. the 24-pack aint half bad either but i always get this feeling that he looks like he skips... some kind of day. not arm day, not leg day, but... some kind of day. maybe brain day. 8/10. sharp teeth are always sexy.

10/10. i dont fuckin care if u hate his hair- this man probably invented the most effective hairspray in existence just to make that happen. respect him. u cannot deny hes hot tho like theres just Something about him. the confidence... the attitude... i worry about revealing his eyes tho. theres a 50% chance it will not work in ur favour and he’ll just look heinous. full 10/10 tho. old robbie is also not bad 2 look at if ur not a coward but he Might leave u for an easy bake oven so like. watch out for that.

well the queen saw something in him??? i genuinely fear the idea of ever getting to see his chin from under that magnificent beard tho. he’s probably got the jawline of a russian power lifter. anyway for an old guy hes not lookin that bad so long as u dont mind a receding hairline. ill b nice. 5/10. for a king u could do worse. ill be taking complaints about this take in my dms. bring a bat.

where do i begin. i love beedle. i rlly do but theres.... so much going on. personality is a 10/10, business skills are 10/10/ haircut is -50/10 and the crop top....? well ill give him 10/10 for confidence. 4/10 im sorry he is just a Lot to look at. he looks like rock lee tried to become a slutty pirate king. shonen jump will have a lot to answer for.

the colour scheme is... better than revali, tho i didnt realise how obnoxious it was until i actually got a good look at him. ive never seen a bird look so top heavy before but this mans got 5 kids so i have nothing but respect for my king. kass is for the dilf crowd that like the dad bods. 8/10 he is quite nice to look at ngl. he’s like revali but light mode.

ok yunobo is very cute i wont lie but the hair is just massively disarming. idk its all i can think about. is this a goron emo phase?? is that what that is?? ive been staring at it for like 5 minutes and i still cant work out if i like it or not. 5/10 he is a humble lad.

under all that gear kohga could look like willem dafoe x50 and id still find him attractive. he cant be hot tho. he just cant be. like looks wise he has to be 1/10 under that there is no way this man could feasibly be conventionally attractive and tbh i like it that way. banana boy gets 6/10. hotter than revali. revali looks like a clown but kohga looks like the entire fucking circus

there is nothing unattractive about bolson. 10/10. sha-ding

i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair SO fucking much but the voice. he has to be hot under that gear with a voice like that. if hes not well. just close ur eyes. the voice will take care of the rest. 8/10 the crack in his mask actually makes him look sexier and i dont understand how that can happen

????????????????????????? he looks. like an old man? i swear those big wingy bits are his eyebrows but i cant Quite be sure. why would a tree need eyebrows. ??/10 keep ur questionable gifts to urself

-100000/10 who the fuck let this budget pokemon npc in here. he looks like he should b leading team ganon across the kanto region. he probably draws those lines on his face to make himself look older and listens to mother mother. im gonna punch his third eye. no this is not a biased opinion

#botw #breath of the wild #aoc #age of calamity #link #revali #teba #sidon #daruk #astor #prince sidon #hestu #kohga #sooga #yunobo #kass #bolson #beedle #legend of zelda #robbie

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myckicade · 3 years

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Title: Impart to Human Hearts - Part Three Pairing: Coco/Reader A/N: Coco, Coco, Coco. The man is so over this Christmas shit, it hurts. I just wanted to throw this one in before the dinner tomorrow night tonight. :) . It didn't come out the way I had wanted it to, but feh. I have to keep reminding myself that these are for fun.

Teaser: Christ, he lives in a house with a china cabinet. How the hell did that happen?

Series: I - II - III - IV - V

Taglist: @caspertheassholeghost @loompyinaway @carolina412

Chaos. That's what this Christmas shit is. Complete and utter chaos. You've had Coco running to this place and that, picking up plates and napkins, decorations and good wine. Like, good wine. None a' that cheap shit he used to guzzle down in high school. The four bottles he'd picked up this morning came with a price tag that had made him want to drop dead, right there at the check-out counter. Honestly, he'd thought there was some kind of a mistake, but you'd been adamant that, yes, they were what you wanted.

"We're not cheaping out on our guests, Coco," you'd tutted, bouncing around the kitchen as you prepared a stuffed-something-or-other appetizer to go with a spinach-and-overpriced-cheese casserole. "This is a big deal for everyone's partners. We're finally getting to meet everyone."

Coulda' done that at a barbeque, Coco couldn't help but think. He's still thinking it now, as you lean over to retrieve a pie shell from the oven. Delicious a view as that is (your sweet little ass, not the damned pie crust, give the man some credit), it doesn't much help him with the rest of what you've been up to.

The dining room, for starters... It looks completely overdone, in Coco's opinion. The dinner is still a day off, and the table is already set. The tablecloth is a deep red, with a delicate gold trim, a perfect match to the rest of the holiday decor in the house. Some truly expensive looking dinnerware - just the right shade of off-white to pop against the tablecloth (your words, not his) - has been divided into place settings, enough for each invitee. And, according to you, there are spares in the china cabinet.

Christ, he lives in a house with a china cabinet. How the hell did that happen? A gun rack, now, he could totally work with that. Whole fuckin' wall safe, filled with every kind of toy the Military had made him so very fond of. He could lose a weekend, easy, setting it up, and perfecting the organization. Be a real help to him during these festive seasons, knowing he has options.

And, cue a horrified cringe. Probably a good thing he doesn't have that kind of access in his home.

Shaking that thought, Coco pushes himself away from the counter to pace into the living room. Christmas Hell Hole #2. You spent half an hour yesterday bitching at the throw pillows on the couch as you fought to stuff them into themed pillow covers. One has the silhouette of a reindeer, another a snowflake. The Christmas tree, which he had laboured over so intensely, has been trimmed with golden-coloured bulbs and strings of red beads. The lights are white, and come with a separate twinkle setting that will blind a man at twenty paces. The mantle has a faux-pine garland, entwined with white and gold ribbons, tacked all across it.

Really, he knows how much you miss being back home with your family, but Coco is beginning to feel like he's moved to the North Pole. Sure, you'd make a sexy Mrs. Claus, but there's no way in a finely-frosted hell he's putting on a Santa suit.

"Muñeca, why the hell we gotta' do this?" Coco whines. He hears you sigh from the kitchen, and tries not to roll his eyes. "I mean it, (y/n)! Look at this place!"

You scoff. "You got a problem with my decorating, Cruz?"

Coco scowls, his back to the kitchen. You'll never see it. Because, yeah, yeah, he's got a big problem with it. It's all you've thought about, it seems, since Angel's girl had dialed you up at the beginning of the month. You two don't even make it through the nightly news without chatter concerning The Dinner. He'd sooner starve, than continue living like this.

Ain't gonna' tell you that, though.

"Nah, babe, it's gorgeous," he replies instead, nudging against a potted poinsettia by the front door with his boot. "You did a great job."

Your response lacks in enthusiasm. You know, and Coco knows you know. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

"It's fuckin' ugly," Coco declares, aloud. Hey, it's the truth, and he has no shame in admitting it. Even if he is risking life, limb, and future sexual gratification in doing so... If word of this conversation ever gets back to you.

Already well-aware of her father's cowardice, Letty rolls her eyes. "It's not that bad, Coco."

"It looks like a herd of reindeer mauled a Macy's display, and shit it out in our living room."

"(Y/n) worked really hard on it," Letty replies, in your defense. And, a little bit of her own, too. Half of the choices in decor are her doing. She'll openly admit, if asked, that she enjoys shopping with you. (You ask her opinion on things, and don't just do whatever, despite the teenage grumbles that often leave Letty's mouth). She likes putting up decorations, and making cookies, even if the process has taught her that baking is decidedly not her forte. But, she's pretty sure you're having a blast, too. You've been all smiles, and giggles, and silliness. For how tense you've been, the last few months, it's been really nice to see. Even if Coco seems determined to run you down for it, the asshole. "And, besides, she thought you'd like the red."

"Red ain't the problem," Coco insists. And, it ain't. Honest. "Christmas ain't even the problem." He pushes himself away from the back of Letty's closed bedroom door, pacing the length of the adjoining wall.

Letty turns, where she is sitting at the edge of her bed, watching the man before her, carefully. "Then, what's buggin' you?"

Coco groans. "I don't get why we've gotta' do all this shit, y'know? Have everybody over to eat." He runs a hand through his hair. "It's just more trouble than it's worth. She offers to host, and I end up hangin' off the roof, trying to put lights on the house!"

"Oh, God," Letty mumbles, trying not to giggle. The idea of Coco holding onto one of the gutters for dear life is a holiday joy, unto itself. "Wish I'd been home for that." The glare she receives promises a tantrum. It's Letty's turn to sigh. She hadn't wanted to bring this up, but he's leaving her no choice. "You ever think, Coco, that maybe this dinner is (y/n)'s way of distracting herself from the whole baby thing?"

"What're you talkin' about?" Coco practically spits. Letty does her best not to fire back. Your advice is on repeat in her head, to remain calm when he gets this way. She's proud of herself, thus far. Letty takes a deep breath, and looks Coco dead in the eyes.

"I'm not dumb, Coco," she reminds the man, evenly. "I know you guys are having trouble with... Ugh, with making me a big sister." She doesn't want to think about that, she really doesn't. She's fine with having siblings. She just doesn't want to know about how. "I don't know if you've noticed, but (y/n)'s been a fuckin' mess, lately. Tense, not sleeping, distracted, any of that ring a bell?"

"That's exactly what I'm talkin' about!" Coco insists, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. "She's already worried enough as it is! Now, she's heaping it on with all this-this-... Fa-la-la-la-bullshit!"

"Actually," Letty continues sagely, putting on her best Adult Voice. "I think she's been doing better. I actually got to hear her laugh. It was awesome." She kicks back, falling onto her bed to stare up at the ceiling. "She obviously feels bad. Guilty, probably. And, planning a party is giving her something else to focus her energy on."

Coco pauses. Shit. Shit, he hasn't considered that, no. "You think?"

Letty scoffs. "Hell, yeah. It gives her a chance to feel good, while she makes other people happy. And, we both know how much she likes doing that." She shrugs. "Sorry, but... I don't really see any harm in that."

The kid makes good sense. It's just been so fuckin' hard, listening to you worry about burned vegetables, and mismatched napkins. And, two days before, you'd cried when you couldn't find your centerpieces. It had broken Coco's heart to hear, but... But, honestly, if he thinks about it, it's been better than hearing you cry over negative pregnancy tests, since the wedding. Hearing you sob about wanting to give up, and just buy the damned pies has been far less devastating than hearing you say you're going back on your birth control, because you can't face another 'failure'. You're still upset, at times, but you're not upset at yourself, or at him, or at the Universe.

And Coco's been a complete ass in making it that much harder on you. In complaining. In acting like you've done something wrong.

Fucking A, he's such a fucking dick.

Leaning over the bed, Coco places his hands on either side of Letty's head, smacking a kiss against her hair. "Thanks, Kid," he murmurs. Sometimes, he doesn't know where he'd be without this child of his. He prays he never has to find out.

"Yeah, yeah," Letty grumbles, waving a dismissive hand at him. The affection thing is a work in progress, and it still makes her a bit edgy. "Go make it right." Without another word, Coco makes his exit, and Letty sighs. This family thing is harder than it looks, too.

Placing your hands on your hips, you take a step back to admire your work. Three pumpkin pie shells, pre-baked to absolute perfection line the kitchen counter. The filling is in the bowl beside them, ready to be popped in the refrigerator for tomorrow morning's marathon baking session. Four different casseroles have been assembled ahead of time, likewise prepared for the oven. (All except for the green bean casserole that Angel's girl is making, as the thought of it, alone, makes you want to gag). The table looks beautiful. The candles will be delivered in the morning. Everything is as it should be.

This may be the best party you've ever put together. It's been hell, but it's going to be worth it, and then some.

You run the list of what's left to do in your head. Candles, bottle opener, serving platters, cheese platter. Nothing that you won't be able to accomplish. Everyone else is bringing their own dishes. You have serving spoons enough for each one. You are prepared.

What you are not prepared for, however, are the arms that suddenly sneak their way around your waist.

"Sorry, hermosa," Coco whispers against your ear as he wraps you up tight in his hold. You relax back in an instant, warm and comfortable. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Mm, don't worry about it." You tip your head against his shoulder with a sigh. This feels so good, after a hard day of housework, cooking, and general craziness. "I'm about done, anyway." Coco begins a gentle sway from side to side, the motion lulling your eyes to a close.

After a few moments, a soft kiss is pressed to the side of your neck. "Doin' okay?"

"My back is killing me," you reply. Coco's hands shift around your hips, in an instant, thumbs pressing at either side of your spine. The moan that leaves your mouth is almost filthy for how good it feels. "Nn, thank you."

"Least I can do." Coco's voice is small, and quiet, and you know what's coming. "I've been an asshole, the last couple a' days. I'm sorry, (y/n)."

Oh, Coco. You shake your head, a bit. You knew this was going to be difficult for him, adjusting to a household he isn't used to. It's your first Christmas together, and, yeah, you've probably gone a little overboard with the whole season. Coco's been so helpful, though, and you know his complaints only shoot out when he's overwhelmed. The tree has fallen on him twice, and he's had to replace a strand of lights on the fence line after the original ones went out. He's stood in line after line for your pick-up orders, food and decor and gifts, not to mention the panic you threw him into over the wine. And still, he's offered to come back and do more. This man is a gem, the perfect husband in every category that counts for you. And he's apologizing to you.

"God damn, I love you, Coco." You turn your head, and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for putting up with me."

"Nah, you know I'd do anything for you, reina." His thumbs press a bit harder at the space between your hips, drawing another delighted sound from your mouth. You can feel his lips curve into a smirk, where they rest against your shoulder. "Anythin' else I can do for my woman?" he asks, swaying with you again.

Oh, that's just dirty pool. You have a few things to do yet, before you can even think about going to bed. You have to find the napkin rings, and the place cards, and clean out the punch bowl for the eggnog-.

Oh, shit.

"You're gonna' kill me," you groan, hips moving in time with Coco's own. You slap a hand over your face, not wanting to request this, but... The man did say anything.

"Yeah?"

"I forgot the eggnog."

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#Impart to Human Hearts Series #Mayans M.C.#Mayans MC #Mayans M.C. Fanfiction #Mayans MC Fanfiction #Coco Cruz x Reader #Coco Cruz x You #Coco x Reader #Coco x You #Holiday Fic #Christmas Fic

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biolizardboils · 2 years

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scattered thots about the new combat vid

im ready to be wrong about this but i think the seagulls might be important? at least i think Sonic can do something with them? they can keep up with him somewhat and do so like every 10 seconds. are they sus or do they just like him

so im that outlier that actually liked comboing stuff as the Werehog (and swears up and down that some moves worked better on certain enemies?? not by much tho) so im ecstatic that Sonic has more moves to fight with and varied enemies to use them on! one big eye opener was when he did the trace-a-circle thing around the Huge Thing’s leg to make it raise it, then landed a seemingly big blow to it

love some of the enemy designs too, sleek robot things with funky proportions and no discernible head

a little concerned with how the Beyblade-lookin thing snapped too fast from an opening animation back to a defensive idle stance. no clue if thats an AI thing or an animation thing

damn Sonic’s rings fly far when he gets hit lol. it might be physics tho cus he flew down a small hill nearly every time

speaking of rings, the player got hit like three times and only went for their lost rings once. if theyre confident enough not to get them back immediately, this might be a game where you only lose some rings and not all of them. that or the player has never known fear in their lives

what are those blue diamond icons that the enemies drop. what are any of the collectables theyve shown so far. i just wanna know what they fuckin do

honestly i wish theyd shown the HUD in this vid and the June 1st one. rings and other stuff fly to the edges of the screen when Sonic grabs them, like in Unleashed, so im pretty sure a visible one exists rn, at least one with placeholder graphics. seeing it could give context clues to how the new moves work, whether they require charging or certain conditions, etc. and that kind of transparency might make the vids feel less aimless and help quell a lot of the infighting ive seen going on. heres hoping they turn that on at some point this month

also whats with the shutter-snapping noise in both vids? i thought it might be a camera thing, but the angle doesnt seem to change when it occurs. whats with that

so i didnt give any thots on the first vid cus people were being Super Rude and Scary on all sides of the political spectrum, and i know better than to engage with that. imo this new vid is somewhat better and im excited to see more, but wont complain if Sonic Team decides to keep this in the oven a little longer

#sonic frontiers #sonic the hedgehog #sth #frontiers #me talking

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musherum · 2 years

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break to analyze the eggplant parm 1 week ago

okay so with the eggplant parm, my goal going into it was to avoid it getting soggy. but, i realized after making it, making that my aim was likely a mistake. ultimately there is probably no way that breaded eggplant cooked in tomato sauce is not going to get a little soggy, no matter how i layer the cheese or how thick the breadcrumb coating is. i think what i shouldve been aiming for was better cohesion between the whole dish - i feel that, while it tasted good, towards the end of eating the eggplant parm started to fall apart a little. and while some of that is to be expected, like with a lasagna, i feel some of it had to do with me double-breading the bottom layer of eggplant - i feel now that that was a wrongheaded strategy. i feel like rather than keeping the dish crispy, it ended up sogging out just as much as the rest of it, and then the soggy extra breadcrumbs undermined the structural integrity of the dish, keeping the bottom layer of eggplant from cohering with the ones on top of it. plus, the double-breaded eggplant layer took up significantly more room, and that was room that couldve been instead filled with say, two layers of single-breaded eggplant! as well, i found that in the final product, the top of the eggplant stacks got plenty crispy enough, just from the sauce generally collecting away from it, and from it being more exposed to the high heat of the oven as i browned the cheese. so that provided some nice contrast, and revealed my attempts to avoid sogginess as misguided in two ways. for all my criticisms, though, my guests seemed to still really like it. oh!! the dish couldve also used some acid, for some brightness, and for contrast against all the cheese and the roasted tomato sauce, which had lost a lot of the natural acidity of the tomatoes. maybe i cook the tomato sauce for a shorter period next time, given itll be spending another like, hour cooking in with the eggplant stacks. or maybe ill even just squeeze some lemon juice over the final product, and augment it that way?? idk, ill workshop this.

back on the topic of the cheese: i fucked up and instead of buying fresh mozzarella for the top of the eggplant stacks, i ended up getting pizza mozzarella that was sold in a deceptive little boule, like fresh mozz often is. it still browned up nicely, but i feel fresh mozzarella wouldve had a better stretchiness and a better flavour - although it couldve also released a lot of moisture, and ruined the crispy top layer of the eggplant stacks. so who knows?

for the salad, the real disappointment were the pepitas, and the vinaigrette. the pepitas i simply over-toasted - they lost a lot of their light nuttiness, and ended up tasting slightly popcorn-y. the vinaigrette didnt taste lemony enough, or savory enough - it was just sort of acidic, so maybe some zest in with it wouldve been good. but i think i need to up my vinaigrette game in general, and make something a little more involved, because a lot of these very simple vinaigrettes ive been making have not been working for me. they just dont taste very good. i saw a recipe from americas test kitchen that made a lemon vinaigrette with molasses and mayonnaise. and while that seems slightly sacrilegious to what a vinaigrette is supposed to be at its core, i bet it would also be pretty damn tasty. i may also just need to source better lemons 🤷‍♀️

the garlic bread was just garlic bread. i screwed up a little trying to toast the bread under the broiler and overdid it though, which makes me think i need a new technique for crisping up garlic bread, cause the browning was very uneven - pale in some places, almost burnt in others. it was still garlic and bread and butter and herbs, and again, my guests still enjoyed it, but i was kind of mad at myself that i let it get too dark and toasty in places

so maybe like, a B overall?? maybe a B-minus??

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 5,232 Sister!Winchester Reader x Gabriel Warnings: violence, intense scenarios, violent imagery A/N: So... once upon a time I was writing two series at once... Mess Is Mine and Fangs and First Impressions. And I said to myself, "Self, we are never going to write two series at the same time again! This is stressful!" And yet, here I am today, already writing two series (The Wrong Bed, Sam x Reader which is almost done! and Even in the Darkest Heart, a Demon!Dean series) and now I'm being dumb and chucking in a third. This was supposed to be a One Shot but as we've already established on this blog I am apparently incapable of writing short fics. So HERE YA GO! New Series. Don't ask me how many parts it will be because I literally have NO IDEA. :) But having a steaming slice of Gabriel, straight out of the oven.

Your name: submit What is this?

White. Clean, blank, pure white. That was all you were aware of suddenly. It was blindingly white and as you sat up and then pulled yourself to your feet, you saw that it was like an expansive room, painted in the color of freshly fallen snow, unmarred by any track or trail. All was pure white.

“Hello?” The only answer you received was the lonely echo of your voice, so distorted by the time it bounced back that it was almost unrecognizable. Where the fuck am I? you wondered. You started to walk, but as everything was the same, the sensation of moving was unaccompanied by any visual cue that you actually were moving. This was so unsettling and disorienting that you ceased your tentative steps quickly. Your heart started to race a little faster and a disturbing thought popped into your mind. Am I dead?

_ _ _ _ _ _ “I need a large bore IV, wide open. And up her oxygen percentage. Her numbers are tanking!”

“Sir, you really have to stay back. Sir! You’re not allowed beyond these doors!”

Dean watched helplessly as your unconscious body, straddled by a doctor with their hands pressed firmly down onto your abdomen, was hurried through a pair of swinging doors, flanked by an army of medical personnel. Dean finally registered the nurse in front of him and stopped before he collided with her outstretched hands. “Where are they—”

“They’re taking her straight into surgery. Are you next of kin?”

“Yes—My brother and I. She’s our sister! I need an update! As soon as you have one!” Dean urged.

“Do you give us permission to perform life-saving actions like resuscitation if necessary?” The words came out in a fast tumble and Dean didn’t even process them before he answered.

“Yes, goddammit! Do whatever you have to—she has to be okay!”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything,” The nurse turned and ran down the long hallway, the swinging doors closing finally behind her. Dean paced a tight circle, a bundle of nerves and rage.

In about 20 minutes, Sam came running up and spotted Dean collapsed in a chair in the little seating area, endlessly bouncing his knee. “Hey—what’s going on? They wouldn’t let me leave—I almost punched out a security guard,” he said desperately. Sam had fresh stitches in his forehead and he was developing quite the bruise around one eye.

Dean let out a heavy exhale. “They rushed her right into surgery.” Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Are you okay?” he asked, finally looking up to inspect Sam’s stitches.

Sam collapsed into a chair beside his brother. “Fine. They said the concussion is probably mild. Nice to be numbed for stitches for once,” he said, but his eyes kept darting back toward the doors and he was wringing his hands. “Did you hear anything yet?”

“No.”

The Winchesters sat in a heavy silence for almost two hours before a doctor came out.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were becoming so anxious by the lack of anything and the horrible thought in your head that this was it, this was dying, that your heart was absolutely racing in your chest now. Sitting still didn’t seem like a good option, but the thought of trying to move again through all that blank nothingness seemed just as bad. “Hello?!” you yelled once more, this time as loud as you could.

“Hi there.”

You jumped with a startled gasp and spun around, one hand on your chest out of fright and surprise. There was a figure there. He had a small, warm smile on his face and his irises seemed to blaze golden and light brown. It was strange—you felt an overwhelming sense of calm as you looked at him. Your heart rate had slowed to its usual pace and you no longer felt that bubble of rising panic in your chest, threatening to burst. You were keenly aware that in your profession, a seemingly kind face didn’t necessarily mean anything—and yet, he had somehow stopped your wounded whirling.

“Who—who are you?” you asked, finally able to recover from your surprise and find your voice.

His smile widened on one side, curving up in a crooked half-smirk. “Well… I suppose you can call me your guardian angel,” he said.

Your brow only furrowed down in confusion. “Where… are we?”

“Difficult question to answer. We’re nowhere and yet, in some sense… kind of everywhere to you right now.”

The wrinkles on your furrowed brow deepened. “Am I—am I dead?”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily, while you merely looked on in perplexity. “Now, what kind of guardian angel would I be if that were the case?” he asked you. He suddenly stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a large Twix candy bar, bouncing a little unconcernedly on his toes. He opened it and took a big bite, before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m sorry—but who are you?” you asked again.

He let out another small chuckle and you watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled this time in a broad smile, but he still didn’t give you an answer.

“If I’m not dead, what exactly is happening?”

He tilted his head a little and looked at you for a long moment. “Do you remember that man in the bar?”

And suddenly it was like you were there—sensory overload. You could hear the drone of the music in the background and smell that heady scent of beer… And there was the man. You saw his face clearly, and now you saw that he had been watching you.

“I see him,” you said, and suddenly you were back in the white space. “Saw him.”

The figure nodded. “Well, he wasn’t just a guy in the bar.”

Now, you tilted your head a little in an unspoken question and your eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He was the thing you were hunting. And he figured out that you were hunting him.”

As soon as he said it you heard a crack like thunder and a flash like hot, white lightning. Your body jolted and there was a searing pain in your stomach. You looked down saw an expanding circle of dark crimson on your shirt, and when you pressed a hand to it your fingers came away stained bright red, sticky with blood. Now when you looked back up at the figure he wasn’t smiling anymore and there was no sign of the candy bar or wrapper. He raised two fingers and snapped, and the searing pain disappeared along with the scarlet stain on your shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he said. His voice now was lacking the playful lilt it had before. It was soft and serious. “That can happen from time to time. Reality leaks in a little bit.”

Suddenly, you understood and then you remembered. You had heard his footsteps behind you, first at a distance and then quickly, running. You had turned and then… the crack of the gun going off and echoing in the lonely parking lot—the flash of the muzzle. More gunshots, must have been Sam and Dean shooting back—they had been ahead of you going to the Impala. But you were already on your knees, bleeding, clutching your stomach and struggling to see anything through the searing pain.

“He shot me,” you said.

“He did,” the stranger said.

“But I’m alive?”

“Yes.” A long silence stretched where you both just looked at each other, and you were reeling from the implications.

“So, is this real or all in my head?” you asked him.

He smiled again, just a small one, and it lit fireworks of light off in his eyes. They were mesmerizing. “Why can’t it be both?” he asked. “We’ll be seeing each other again. I promise.”

“But—wait!”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Sam and Dean both jumped to their feet when the surgeon came out through the swinging doors and eagerly ran to meet her.

“Y/N is going to make it,” she said. The brothers both heaved huge sighs of relief. Sam crumpled half over and put his hands on his knees, forcing in air. Dean shut his eyes and clenched a hand into a fist. “She’s very, very luckily to be alive. The bullet lacerated her liver and she lost a lot of blood but it missed her hepatic artery by mere millimeters. If that had been hit, she would have bled out in minutes,” the surgeon said. Sam straightened back up stiffly and exchanged a look of horror and desperation with Dean. “She’s in critical condition and we will keep her in the ICU until she is more stable, but she’ll be okay. Thank goodness you two got her here so quickly,” the surgeon said.

“Thank you,” Dean said forcefully.

“Yes, thank you so much,” Sam added. The surgeon nodded and headed back through the doors. The Winchesters stood there in silence after the doctor left until finally Sam broke it.

“That was way too close,” he said.

Dean swallowed hard at the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t lessen. “Way too damn close,” he said, his voice breaking a little. He wandered back over to collapse into the chairs. Sam sank down next to him and glanced over at his big brother.

“At least the shifter is dead,” Sam said. “Yeah. But we still have to deal with the cops,” Dean growled. “Afterall, we did kill someone in a parking lot…”

“There was surveillance at the bar. It was clear self-defense. We have nothing to worry about,” Sam reassured him.

“Well, not nothing,” Dean said. “You know what a pain in the ass it is going to be trying to keep Y/N from doing anything to heal up?” A faint touch of a smile reached his eyes as he looked over at Sam.

He nodded. “She is a Winchester.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were finally moved from the ICU, and Sam and Dean snuck in early, even before visiting hours, so they could be there when you woke up. Sam had a huge bouquet of sunflowers on his lap and Dean had brought your favorite herbal tea. You woke up slowly, still a little foggy from all the painkillers, but you immediately sensed the two figures in your room. Sam noticed you stirring first.

“Hey,” he said sitting up. His voice was soft but you could hear the smile in it. “You’re awake,” he said, climbing to his feet and coming to stand beside your bed. “Brought you something to brighten up the room. I know they’re your favorite,” he said, setting down the huge bouquet on the side table.

You blinked heavily a few times and managed a weak smile at him, “Thanks. It’s good to be up and have my room brightened,” you said. You put your hands down on the bed and tried to sit up a little more but immediately winced and hunched over, a hiss of breath drawn in through your teeth, drawing concerned looks from your older brothers.

Dean was immediately at your other side. “How are you feeling?” he asked. His voice sounded extra gruff to your ears, and you knew it was likely due to worry.

“I’m doing well for someone who has staples holding their guts in,” you said dryly, a small wry smile creeping onto your face. Neither of your big brothers laughed. “Oh, come on! I’m kidding!”

Dean swallowed at the lump and tightness in his throat again but it didn’t abate. “Really though? How’s your pain?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Really. You can stop giving me those classic Winchester furrowed brows. I’m okay. They have me on the good drugs,” you added with a small smile. You noticed the paper cup clutched in Dean’s hand. “Is that for me?”

“Oh, yeah. Your favorite tea.”

You grinned at him and accepted the cup. “Thank you.”

Sam sighed heavily beside you, and you could sense your brothers exchanging a glance. “Listen, Y/N…” Sam started. You lowered the cup from your lips and looked at him.

“Stop,” you said holding up a hand. “Before you say anything else, I need to say something.” You struggled to find the words. You wanted, no—needed them to hear every word you were about to say. “This is not your fault,” you said, deliberately turning your eyes to Dean and catching his green ones. “I mean it. This was bad luck. It could have been any of us. I was just the slowest walking to the Impala. My legs are a lot shorter than yours,” you joked. “Alright?” A heavy, thick silence held the room in suspension, feeling like a stifling summer evening heavy with humidity. “I mean it. None of us saw this coming. It isn’t anyone’s fault except the dickhead who shot me.”

Sam was staring at your face and you caught his eyes, which were a little sad and glistening more than they should have been for the light. “We’re your big brothers though,” he said. “We’re supposed to protect you.”

“We thought we lost you,” Dean said.

“But you didn’t,” you retorted. “And you did protect me—you saved my life. They said if you had waited for an ambulance I might not have made it.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and you watched the muscle in it twitch. “Did they tell you?” he asked you, his green eyes holding yours—and you saw fear there, something you rarely saw in his eyes—not that it was never there. He just never let you see it. “Millimeters and it wouldn’t have been fast enough.” You looked down at your hand on the comforter of the hospital blanket.

“Yeah, about that, actually…” you started. Sam’s brow creased even more in the middle. “There’s something else that happened I need to tell you about.”

“What is it?”

“I think while I was in surgery—or maybe even before, I don’t know for sure—but I saw something,” you said, wrapping both your hands around your paper cup again, soaking in the warmth of the tea.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, apprehension growing with every word your spoke.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I was in this pure white room… and at first there wasn’t anything there. It was just empty but then this… figure appeared.” Your brothers watched your eyes grow a little distant.

“A figure?” Sam repeated. You looked up at him and nodded.

“I asked him who he was and he told me that I could call him my ‘guardian angel’,” you said, now looking over at Dean and trying to read his reaction. His face seemed to darken and you watched the muscle twitch in his jaw again.

“It was probably just your brain trying to process what was happening to you,” Sam offered. “You almost died. The mind does crazy things when the body is in shock—trust me, I know,” he said sincerely. “And so does Dean.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, vehemently. “It wasn’t that. It wasn’t. It was real. I’m telling you; it was—” you sighed heavily, not even knowing how to explain without sounding stupid. “—it was happening in my head but this figure, I don’t know… There was something about him. I think he really exists,” you said.

“Did he say anything else?” Dean pressed you.

“I asked him who he was and then I asked him where we were and he said something like, ‘We’re nowhere and yet, in some sense everywhere.’ Whatever the hell that means,” you said, fiddling with the sleeve on your hospital gown. You hesitated, knowing the next question you asked would be hard for your brothers to hear. “Um. And then I asked him if I was dead… and—it was the strangest thing. He laughed and he made some joke about it.”

“He made a joke? What the hell?” Sam repeated.

Dean shook his head. “What kind of joke?”

“Like, ‘oh, how good of a guardian angel would I be if you were dead?’ Oh! And it gets weirder… then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a candy bar.”

Now, Dean and Sam both straightened up involuntarily and looked at each other long and hard in some kind of silent communication. “What? What is it?” you asked. “Come on. Don’t do the silent, telepathic thing. I hate when you do that,” you said.

Sam swallowed hard. “What did this figure look like?” he asked.

You tried to call up an image of him in your mind, and as soon as you shut your eyes you could see him as clear as day. “He has sort of warm brown hair. It’s a little shorter than yours, Sam, kind of swept back. And he has these—these eyes that look like they’re golden brown or amber. A little stubble on his face and he has this cheeky sort of little smile…” You opened your eyes again and looked at your brothers. Their expressions made it quite clear they knew exactly who you were describing.

Dean ran a hand over his face and licked his lips. “You said he pulled out a candy bar?”

“Mhm. I wouldn’t get that detail wrong,” you said.

Sam shrugged and his eyebrows lifted. He shook his head, a little disbelieving.

“What?” you repeated, looking between your brothers. “Who is it? What’s going on?” You were met with stony silence again. “If you two don’t tell me right now I’m going to climb out of this bed and if my stitches rip out it WILL be your fault!”

Dean sighed heavily again. “Alright! Alright! Calm down, turbo!” You sunk back against your pillows again. “Yeah, I think we know who you saw. But—I mean—” Dean looked to Sam who shook his head again, apparently having no explanation. “It doesn’t make any sense.” You gave a questioning look.

“We knew him. Before we knew about you. It was definitely not your mind inventing this, but—he’s dead as far as we know,” Sam said.

Now it was your turn to gulp at the tightness in your throat. “Dead?” you repeated. Sam nodded.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “It’s complicated.”

You laughed sardonically and let your head fall back against your pillow, feeling suddenly tired. “Isn’t it always with us?”

“You’re tired. You obviously need to rest so we can talk about this later,” Dean said, putting a hand gently on your shoulder.

“What?! No! You’re not just gonna say that and expect me to be able to—to sleep!” You looked between your brothers in annoyance. “I’m serious! Cough it up! If you think I’m giving the two of you time to concoct some bullshit cover story you have another thing coming.”

Sam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Just—relax. We don’t need you getting all worked up… You remember that trickster we told you about? Way before we found out about you?”

“The one who made you watch Dean die over and over again?”

“Yes, exactly,” Sam said.

“…Wait, you think that figure I saw was this—this trickster? That’s way too powerful for a—”

“He wasn’t a trickster,” Dean interrupted. “He was an archangel playing at being a trickster.”

Your jaw dropped open. “What?”

“Gabriel. It was the archangel Gabriel,” Sam said. You stared at him like he was insane. And then you looked over at Dean, who was refusing to look at you and instead staring, brooding, at his boots, chewing on his lower lip.

“Pardon my French but fucking--Gabriel?? THE Gabriel?”

Sam nodded. He could see your mind starting to spiral. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—he said he was my ‘guardian angel’. You don’t think he was being serious, do you?”

Dean shrugged. “We don’t know. We don’t even know if he’s back. He’s supposed to be dead. Sam and I basically watched him die. Besides, just because he said something like that doesn’t mean anything. He loves goofing around,” Dean said, and you heard some bitterness still in his voice.

“I don’t think saving my life is goofing around,” you retorted.

“We don’t know for sure that he did that,” Sam said. “We need to be careful here. There could be some other agenda. I mean, he was dead. So, if he is actually back that is a big enough mystery right there to warrant being concerned. Resurrections tend to have a catch.”

“I didn’t even know archangels could die,” you said, a little sadly. “Why did he—?"

“He died to save Dean and I,” Sam said. You let out an exhale in an audible rush of air. “Y/N, did he say anything else?”

Now you couldn’t think. Your mind was spinning. You pressed your palms over your eyes. “Umm, yeah he—I asked him if I wasn’t dead what was happening and he walked me through the shooting. The guy in the bar… the parking lot—” you suddenly shuddered and your eyes flew wide open. You pressed one hand over your incision.

“You okay?” Sam put a hand gently on your arm.

“It was like I was there. I could see everything as if in the actual moment. I saw the man in the bar watching us. I heard him running up behind me when we were in the parking lot. And then I could feel it again…” You trailed off and the room stayed silent for a long moment, each of you grappling again with how close to true disaster and devastation you had all come. Sam reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“But he just snapped his fingers and it was gone—the pain and everything.” You looked over at Dean. “I heard more gunshots—after I was shot. Did you and Sam—?”

Dean nodded solemnly. “We got him. He’s gone.”

That answer was weighty. You were glad that he was gone, but you wondered about the implications. “Are you and Sam going to get into trouble? I’m guessing there is an investigation and—you killed someone. What if—” Dean smiled fondly at you and chuckled a little. “Are you really worried about that? You almost died, and you’re worried about Sammy and me dealing with the cops? It’s all taken care of, okay? There were surveillance cameras in the lot. They caught everything. It was a clear case of self-defense. Don’t worry.”

You nodded and let out a relieved sigh. “Good. That’s really good. Who is going to wait on me hand and foot if the two of you are in jail?” you joked.

“Y/N,” Sam said, his tone again serious. “What else did Gabriel say?”

“Right. Umm, I asked him what was happening if I wasn’t dead—if it was real or all in my head. He said ‘Why not both?’ and then he told me—” you suddenly remembered his last words to you and the beeping on the heart monitor increased to match the rushing of your heart. You gulped. “He said we would be seeing each other again. What do you think that means?”

Sam shook his head and looked to Dean, whose face was stern and serious. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think it was really Gabriel?” you asked. “I mean, it could have been something else pretending to be him, couldn’t it?”

Sam rubbed a hand over the center of his chest, where a tightness seemed to be taking hold. “I don’t know. We don’t know. But you should get some rest now. Dean and I will look into this, okay?”

They both kissed your forehead and made sure you were comfortable against your pillows before retreating to the hallway, hoping that you would take their advice and get some sleep while they investigated.

Dean pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial number for Cas, who was back at the bunker. Cas answered on the first ring.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, hey. Sammy and I are just leaving the hospital.”

“How is Y/N?”

“Well, you know, as good as can be expected. She seems to be in good spirits though.”

Cas breathed a sigh of relief into the phone. “Good. That’s very good news. I feel so… useless,” he said a little quietly.

“I know,” Dean replied. “But there’s nothing to be done about that right now. And none of this is your fault.” There was a beat of silence where Dean guessed Cas was still wishing as hard as he could that he would somehow magically regain his angel mojo. “Hey, listen, though… there does seem to be something else strange going on…”

“What do you mean?” The angel’s voice immediately deepened with worry.

Dean ran a hand back through his hair. “Y/N said when she was unconscious that she had some sort of dream or vision or something. She is fairly convinced that it really happened.”

“Okay…” Cas’s voice was uneasy.

Dean quickly related the whole story to Cas with as much detail as he could remember, but purposely omitted the key moment—the candy bar. “This figure claimed to be her guardian angel.” “Well, that is odd because the human idea of a ‘guardian angel’ is quite rare in actuality. Only a very, very small number of humans would ever be given that kind of special protection and they would have to be very important.”

“Right. But we asked her to describe who she saw and guess who it was?”

“Dean, you know I don’t like guessing games—”

“Frickin’ Gabriel. The archangel.” Dean waited for Cas to say something but the line was quiet. “Cas? Cas, are you still there?”

On the other end, standing in the front room of the bunker, there was a very good reason Cas was silent.

“Hello, brother.”

Standing before him was the very being Dean had just mentioned.

“Oh, why don’t you just go ahead and tell Dean-o you need to call him back.”

Cas was so shocked that he gulped and did just that without thinking.

“Cas, wait! What’s—” Dean let out an annoyed sigh and Sam’s brow contracted low over his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Cas just hung up on me all of a sudden. He sounded weird,” Dean mused, frowning down at his phone. He redialed Cas’s number but it simply rang and rang.

Back in the bunker, the angel stared in shock at Gabriel. “Wow. What exactly have you done to yourself, brother? I mean, I was never a big fan of the trench coat but even that was better than this,” Gabriel said with a grimace, taking in Cas’s sweatshirt and jeans. “Yikes. But, I’ll admit I do kind of dig the scruffy look you’ve got going on with the beard.”

Cas’s dark eyebrows were casting a heavy shadow over his cobalt eyes. “Gabriel… How—how is this possible?” he asked, stepping back slightly. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Well, I was dead. Dead as a door nail. But—then, all of a sudden, I wasn’t,” he said. He walked casually over to the table and hopped up to sit on it.

“What—” Cas gulped anxiously. “How?”

“Beats me. Dad up to his old tricks again if I had to guess. I was given some specific instructions though…” he added mysteriously.

Cas didn’t say anything and just studied him. He seemed to be quite the same Gabriel that Cas remembered. “What were they?”

“Oh, come on, Cas! You never did have much flair for the dramatic. You really think I’m just going to sit here and tell you? No, no, no… especially when you’re the only one here…” he said, glancing around. He jumped back down onto his feet. “Listen, don’t bother calling those flannel-swaddled jawlines back—first of all because your phone is broken—”

Cas glanced down at the screen on his phone and it was cracked and did not light when he pressed the button on the side. He gave the archangel an annoyed look.

“And second of all, because they will know when it’s time for them to know. Which, by my calculations, will be when they get back here in three to five days once Y/N is able to leave the hospital.”

“Dean said she saw you when she was unconscious or… dying,” Cas said. It was hard even to get the word out.

Gabriel smiled. “Did he now? How interesting, don’t you think?”

Cas was getting irritated with him for playing coy. “Enough, Gabriel. Did you save her life?”

He pointed to himself. “Did I? Y/N had some sort of vision of a mystic figure? Sounds like a classic near-death experience to me. Who’s to say if it really happened at all?” He smiled serenely at Cas again. “Where is Y/N’s room? This way?” he asked, pointing down the hallway. Cas frowned at the question but Gabriel only took off in that direction.

“Gabriel,” Cas called after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t have my grace but you do. Why don’t you go heal Y/N now?”

Gabriel gave Cas a doubtful look. “Yeah, I’m sure that miracle would go completely unnoticed by the hospital staff… Look, brother, as much as I would like to simply go and fix her, take away all the ouchies, I can’t yet. Y/N is going to have to wait until she’s released.”

Despite his usual playful tone, Cas thought he saw real concern in his brother’s eyes while he spoke of you. “Well, is it true?”

Gabriel was continuing his hurried walk down the hall, poking his head into every room to see if it was yours. “Is what?” he asked carelessly over his shoulder.

“You told Y/N you were her guardian angel!”

Surprisingly this stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face Cas, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “Castiel, you know how rare that is. I mean, they hardly exist. Only a handful over all the millennia,” he said softly. There was a strange light in his eyes and Cas studied his expression carefully.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

And in response to that, Gabriel only smiled.

Part 2

#gabriel fanfiction #gabriel x reader #gabe fics #archangel #supernatural fics #reader insert #spn

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sleepyweepypeaches · 3 years

Text

Cookies and crime pt.2

----------------------------------- Keigo Takami x reader - Fluff -

Y/n uses They/them pronouns.

Warnings:Cursing, mention of a gory true crime story

-----------------------------------

Takami walks into the kitchen, over to Y/n who has just finished warming the food back up. "So, Cookies and crime?" Takami asks grabbing his la carte box of chicken. "Cookies and crime." Y/n confirms. On nights like this when there's nothing to do Y/n and Takami get together bake cookies and watch true crime cases. Y/n and Takami walk over to the couch with their food, "Hay, also. Did you say you turned Mount Lady away at the door, AGAIN !?" Takami asked realizing all of what Y/n said earlier. Y/n sighs, sitting on the couch "Ya, My boss might be a bitch but her boss us actually pretty cool. They said they don't want to promote heros that don't do they're actual job. So this is the third time I've had to personally turn Mount Lady away at the door. She's exhausting.". Takami throws his head back laughing "Thats so funny!" Y/n laughs along with him "I guess, she's kind of annoying after a while. I feel like I'm reasoning with a child. She's like 'do you even know who I am!?'. Ya bitch, Walmart Regina Gorge. Now stop harassing my boss before a call security! Ugh!" Y/n and Takami burst out laughing. This was the bast. Being able to vent and really laugh with each other. It's so special, when they could be themselves. Happy together.

Y/n and Takami finish eating. On they're wayback to the kitchen Y/n pops an edible. "Okay cookies!" Takami laughs. "You have been very exited about these cookies." Y/n says taking the dough out of the fridge. "Well ya, they're cookies, you're not exited about cookies!?". Takami asks, getting a pan from a cabinet and putting it on the counter. "Of corses im exited about cookies!" Y/n laughed, setting the oven. "But i'm more exited to tell you about this true crime case I saw the other day! It was fucking crazy!" Takami cuts the dough packaging open. "I don't know. Ive seen some pretty crazy shit myself." Takami smiles at them. They both go to wash they're hands in the sink." Ok, so theres this woman her name was Katie or Kathy knight or something. And she was fucking crazy! She did all kinds of terrible stuff. But what she got caught for was the worst!" Takami and Y/n finshed washing theyer hands and started putting the dough on the pan. "Well now i'm getting exited." Takami said. "So her husband at the time got a restraining order on her and told the guys he worked with if he didn't show up the next day to call the police.". "Smart" Takami chimed in. "That night she seduced him with sex to get him in a venerable position. When he was asleep she stabbed him. He woke up and tried to get away. But she chased him down the hall and continued to stab him till he was dead!". "Damn she couldn't get a divorce!?" Takami laughed. "Apparently not," Y/n said. Takami picked up a piece of cookie dough and plopped it into his mouth. "So after she killed him, she skinned him and cooked some of him into meals for they're children!" Y/n said. Takami stoped chewing his cookie dough and looked up at Y/n. "You could have told me that before I put the cookie dough in my mouth?" Takami asked jokingly. "You couldn't have waited till I finished telling you the true crime story?"

Y/n smiled at him. After Takami finished eating his cookie dough he stuck is tong out at Y/n. Y/n stuck they're tong back out at him and giggled. "Thats pretty fucked up." Takami said. "Isn't it?! I'd just get a divorce. And thats probable not going to happen ether! I'm a ride or die kinda person." Y/n says. "If you were in a relationship and the only way out was murder. I'd kill them for you on the spot!" Takami said. "Aww, you'd do that for me!?" Y/n made puppy dog eyes at Takami. Takami made puppy dog eyes back at them "Would you hide a dead body for me?". Y/n laughs "Abso-fucking-lutely! You're my best friend, I'd commit arson for you!". "Aww, same" Takami said putting a hand over his heart. Then eats another piece of cookie dough. "Ya! you're going to eat it all before we can even get the pan in the oven!" Y/n points out. "But raw cookie dough tastes really good! Here." Takami says feeding Y/n some cookie dough. "Mmm, it is. But they're better baked!" Y/n said finishing the piece of dough. The oven beeps and Takami puts the cookie into the oven. Y/n sets the timer.

After word Y/n sits themself on they're island counter. Takami positions him self in front of them. Putting his arms on each side of them. "You know. Now that I think of it. I don't think I'd ever worry about divorces or anything like that. If I were to merry someone it would probably be my best friend. Because I know they'ed be good to me and we'd take care of each other." Y/n says thoughtfully. Looking down at Takami who had dumbfounded look on his face. Takami face went pink when they made eye contact. "I umm. I never thought about marriage really." Takami says looking away. "No? I always thought you'd be a great dad." Y/n says. Takami looks back up at them. "A dad?" He asks quietly. "Ya! You're funny and caring. And you're stern when you half to be. And you're super understanding and patient!" Y/n goes on about Takami. Y/n playfully raps they're arm around his neck. "All the sexy milfs, dilfs, and nilfs would all go. 'Oh Mr. Takami, your so attractive and good with kids! Would you like to get a drink sometime?'." Y/n pouts and bats they're eyes. Takami laughs sheepishly and rest his hands on Y/n's arms. " And i'd say, 'Sorry but i'm already married to a wonderful person! And, its cookies and crime night. And it would brake they're heart if I wasn't home for it!"

Y/n's eyes light "Cookies and crime night!?" they laugh. "Ya, Its our little tradition. I thought we might keep it." Takami shrugs, smiling giddily. Y/n's face grows warm "Oh" They smile. "Is that okay?" Takami asked tilting his head. "Y-Ya! I actually like that a lot." Y/n smiles, pulling Takami slightly closer to them. Y/n laughs "Was that your husband audition?". Takami moves his hands from Y/n's arms and places them beck by they're sides. "Ya. How'd I do?" He asked. "Pretty good." Y/n says. Y/n brushes they're nose up agents Takami's but he hesitates and pulls away. "Takami-" "Keigo." Takami cuts Y/n off. "What?" Y/n asks backing up a little. "I know we joke around a lot but. If we're going to do this. I mean really do this. You might as well call me bay my first name. It's Keigo." Keigo says. "Okay." Y/n smiles at him. Pulling him back in. "Keigo, will you just kiss me already." Keigo laughs "I wasn't expecting the sass!" Y/n sighs "Well it's taken you all night." Keigo tilts his head confused "Why didn't you just kiss me first, if you were waiting for so long?" Y/n lets out a small laugh. "Because you looked like you wanted to do it so bad. You even asked me to get in the tub with you. Plus I was kinda nervous." Keigo panics "Shit I thought I deleted that!?" Y/n shakes they're head. "Nope. I've been waiting for you to do something all night. Then you texted me that but never acted on it. So I figured you sent it by mistake." Keigo smiles sadly. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Y/n runs they're fingers through his hair as he explains himself. "I didn't want to ruin what we already have. You're so important to me, and I don't want to lose you. I've never had someone like you in my life. To take care of me. Hold me so sweetly. I don't know how I couldn't fall in love with you. And I really do love you so much." Keigo raps his arms around Y/n waist. Pulling they're body's together fully. Y/n smiles and presses they're forehead to his. "I love you too." Y/n giggles in disbelief. Keigo caresses Y/n's jaw before leaning close. Placing a soft kiss on they're lips. They're lips feel so soft agents his. Light pecks turn into a drawn out kiss. A long awaited kiss. After the kiss ends. They looking into each others eyes smiling brightly. "You have no Idea how happy I am right now!" Keigo laughs, pecking Y/n on the lips again. "I love you, I love you, I love you, so, so much!" Keigo says nuzzling he's head into Y/n's shoulder. Y/n laughs "And I love you, I love you, I love you, so, so much more!". Keigo laughs "Is that a challenge?". "Yes!" Y/n laughs.

Y/n rests they're head atop Keigo's head and takes a deep breath. "Keigo?" Y/n asks. "Yes?" Keigo replies looking up at them. "I think our cookie's are burning." Keigo is knocked out of his haze. Smelling the air, woof. "Aa shit" Keigo spins around and grabs a kitchen mit and swiftly scoop the cookies out of the oven. "Well its a good thing you brought ice cream!" Y/n laughs, jumping off the counter. "Im sorry." Keigo sighs. Y/n walks over to Keigo and raps they're arms around his waist. " It's okay, they're just burnt cookies. I don't think anything could ruin my night right now!"

#my hero academia #hawksbnha #hawks #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #x y/n #they/them #they/them y/n #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero x reader #my hero academy x reader #text fic #fanfic #fluffy #fluff fic #fluff fanfiction #pt.2

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mandowh0re · 4 years

Text

Peter’s Emergency Contact

Summary: Peter meets the Avengers. It doesn’t go well.

A/N: I’m a terrible person tell me to finish my wips. Also I’m sorry about May :(

P.s. it’s been a long time since I picked this fic up so there are some continuum issues, please forgive me.

Part1/ Part2/ Part3/ Part 4

Part 4

Putting it mildly, Peter was fucking bored. It was summer, but both Ned and MJ were on vacation with their families. And on top of that, it was way too hot to go out and do anything, including patrol. He was, however, on stand by if Karen came through with anything that required Spider-Man’s assistance.

A few floors down, the ex-Rogue Avengers were doing god knows what. They had been pardoned a month earlier and moved back into the tower. Peter had yet to meet them, though Tony seemed okay with them. But Peter didn’t really trust them.

Well, okay. He more-so didn’t trust Steve. Even though the others fought against Tony too, it was Steve that scared Tony. Peter noticed minute things that Tony would do whenever the Captain was mentioned. He’d fidget, or grab his left wrist, or rub his chest, or bite the inside of his cheek. Mostly stuff that would fly past most people.

But Peter wasn’t ‘most people’. Officially, Peter was Tony’s child. After a car accident killed May about eight months prior, Tony legally adopted Peter. Since then, Peter has learned all of Tony’s tells. Wanting to get to the bottom of these anxious ticks, Peter hacked his way around FRIDAY’s systems to figure out what had happened.

Peter wasn’t one to give into rage, but that day he spent a majority of his time in the gym or swinging through the city because he was basically vibrating from the emotion.

But they lived in the same tower, and maybe Peter was desperate for something to do, so he decided to head down to the common room where FRIDAY had informed him that a few of the Avengers were hanging out.

The elevator dinged and Peter walked out to the sight of… Christmas decorations?

“What the…” He breathed, looking around the room.

“You’re not Stark,” Natasha said, suddenly appearing in front of Peter.

Peter had to literally fight down his fanboy excitement to greet the literal Black Widow!

“Uh, no. I mean, technically I am but-”

“You’re Peter, right?” Was that a smirk? Peter couldn't tell.

“Uh, y-yeah. How-?”

“I have my ways of finding things out,” Okay, now that was a smile, “I haven’t told anyone though. So you’ll have to introduce yourself to them.” She said as she tossed her head to the side, motioning to the others on the floor.

“Oh, right.”

Peter followed Natasha farther into the room, gaining the attention of the rest of the crew including Wanda Maximoff, Vision (who Peter had actually met before), Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, and Bruce (who Peter had also met before as he and Thor showed up about two months after May’s death).

“Uh, who’s the child, Nat?” Clint asked, sitting on the kitchen island.

Natasha looked at Peter, who began picking at the hem of his shirt. A nervous tick of his own.

“Uh, hi, Mister Barton. I’m Peter. Uh, Peter Parker. Or, Peter Parker-Stark now I guess? I’m-”

“Wait, excuse me, Parker-Stark? Since when the hell did Stark have a child?” Sam cut in.

“Let him finish,” Wanda berated the man, who seemed to currently be baking cookies, “Go on,” She said to the other teenager in the room, smiling kindly.

“Right, so uh, Tony hired me as his personal intern like two years ago, and we got pretty close. My aunt died last December and since she was my last family, Tony took me in and adopted me.” Immediately after mentioning his aunt’s death, almost everyone in the room looked at him with pity.

“I’m sorry kid,” That was Clint again, “Life sucks sometimes.”

“I’m adjusting,” Peter replied, but he quickly changed the subject, “Why are you decorating for Christmas? It’s almost a hundred degrees outside, not to mention it’s July.”

“Ah, that was my idea!” Sam called from the kitchen where he was currently pulling cookies out of the oven, “Since we’re on house arrest until further notice, I thought we could entertain ourselves with Christmas in July. It’s something we used to do when I was younger.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“You’re welcome to join, kid.” Bruce called from his spot on the couch.

“Really? Thanks guys!” Peter jumped onto a seat at the island.

“Have a cookie, man.” Sam said, holding out a plate of santa shaped sugar cookies.

“Aw sweet!” The boy grabbed one and took a bite, “Thanks!”

About fifteen minutes passed by when Peter’s senses upped a few notches.

“Any cookies left, Sam?”

Peter nearly choked on his current cookie and jumped up to see Steve Rogers walking out of the elevator.

“Yep, a few plates full. There’s sugar, gingerbread, and chocolate chip.”

A few seconds passed before the super soldier noticed Peter.

“Um, hello. I’m Steve, you are?” He offered a hand for Peter to shake.

Peter tried to respond, but the room suddenly began spinning. He gripped onto the counter to steady himself.

“Son?” Steve asked.

“Don’ call me tha’,” Peter tried to glare, but he wasn’t even sure he was controlling his face properly.

Out of nowhere his legs gave out, and black began overtaking his vision.

A chorus of exclamations rang out as everyone ran over to tend to the boy. Fortunately and unfortunately, Steve was the closest and was the one to grab Peter before he hit the ground.

“No! Let me go!” He struggled against Steve’s arms to no avail.

“Calm down, son, I’m just-”

“What happened?” Bruce asked, feeling for Peter’s pulse.

“He just collapsed.” Sam answered.

Then Peter began seizing.

“Fuck, Sam, start a timer to time the seizure. Steve, pick him up and bring him to the medbay with me. Natasha, call Tony.”

“Why are we calling Tony?” Steve asked, following Bruce into the elevator.

It was silent for a moment where Bruce and Nat exchanged glances before Bruce answered, “He’s Tony’s kid.”

“Since when-”

“Later Steve. One thing at a time.”

***

“This better be important. Like, life or death because you pulled me out of a meeting and Pepper-”

“Shut up, Stark. Something is wrong with Peter.”

Tony was quiet for a moment before growling back, “Explain, Romanoff. Now.”

“I don’t know, Tony. He came down and introduced himself and was hanging out with us when he just collapsed and started seizing. We’re taking him to the medbay now-”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I’m in DC. I’ll have to come back with the suit but it’ll still take me an hour.”

“What do you want me to-”

“Do not let him out of your sight, Nat. I don’t want him waking up alone and you and Bruce are the only two I trust enough to watch him. Keep me updated, I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

“Got it.”

***

“He’s showing symptoms of anaphylactic shock,” Bruce said to the other two occupants after injecting Peter with an anticonvulsant, “ FRIDAY, is Peter allergic to anything? Override code six one three three nine seven five.”

“Peter is allergic to peppermint, and as well has severe reactions when in close vicinity to insect repellents.”

“Was there peppermint in Sam’s cookies?”

“One moment, Doctor Banner.” A few seconds passed before the AI came back with an answer, “Mister Wilson has supplied that the sugar cookies had peppermint extract in them.”

“Peter had several of those,” Nat said quietly.

“Okay, okay at least I can work with that. Steve,” Bruce called to the soldier while pulling out an epinephrine pen, “I think it’d be better if you waited with everyone else. Thank you for helping.”

Steve wanted to argue, but he looked at Nat who seemed to agree with Bruce.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.” He offered before walking out the door.

As soon as the door shut behind him Nat spoke, “If Peter hadn’t accidentally poisoned himself I’m pretty sure he would have punched Steve.”

Bruce finished injecting the medicine and pulled the pen away from Peter’s thigh, “He still might.”

Natasha helped Bruce fix an IV drip in Peter’s arm in silence.

“You don’t have to stay, I can watch him until Tony gets here.” Bruce offered.

“He won’t be here for another forty five minutes. Plus, I’m supposed to keep watch. Stark’s orders.”

Bruce nodded in understanding, “His vitals are starting to return to normal. I’ll go update the others.”

“I’ll call Tony.”

***

Peter felt like he’d been hit by a train.

Had he?

Honestly he couldn’t remember what had happened. He opened his eyes to see Tony next to his bed (why was he in the medbay?) talking to someone on the other side of his bed. Soon his ears stopped ringing and he heard another hushed voice. Probably whoever Tony was talking to. Why did Tony look upset?

Peter turned his head to see Steve standing there.

And

What?

Without really having his wits about him yet, Peter jumped up and shoved the man back, pulling and knocking over his IV stand in the process.

“Woah, Pete! Calm down-”

“What? You didn’t get to kill him in Siberia so you thought you’d come and finish the job while I’m out?” Peter practically snarled.

Steve’s eyes blew wide, shock and shame overtaking his features, “Son, I-”

“And stop calling me that!” Peter shoved again, sending the captain into the wall, leaving a sizable crack.

“Peter!” Tony yelled, grabbing at the kid’s arm, “Calm down, bud. He’s not here to hurt me, or you for that matter. Can you please sit back down before you give me another damn heart attack?”

Peter obliged but his eyes never left Steve, who looked to be in too much of shock to really say anything.

“Cap, let the team know he’s awake, will ya?” It really wasn’t a suggestion or a question, more like a thinly veiled disguise to get him out of the room before Peter decided he hadn’t had enough.

Nodding, Steve hightailed it out of the room, but not before looking back at Peter and offering a quick apology.

It was quiet for a few moments, in which time Tony set the IV stand back up and made sure Peter’s IV was still in place. Finally the older man spoke, “Pete, buddy, what was all that about? How do you know what happened in Siberia?”

Peter’s demeanor fell slightly as he came back to himself, “Wasn’t hard to guess.”

“Mhmm. Wanna try again? Maybe with the truth this time?” Tony said as he sat back down next to his kid.

Peter crossed his arms and looked down at the floor.

“I hacked FRIDAY,” He mumbled.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Tony asked.

Peter sighed audibly before repeating himself, louder this time, “I hacked FRIDAY.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you were beat up and withdrawn after we got back from Germany. Which, okay, fine. We weren’t in a place for you to tell me what happened. But then the pardon for them was beginning to go through and every time Steve was even mentioned, you had these reactions like you were nervous or something. And I wanted to know why. I already had a pretty good idea. Then I saw the footage and I just… I don’t want him near you..”

“Peter, buddy. Look at me, please,” Tony gently held the boy’s chin and turned his head so that he looked at Tony, “Thank you for looking out for me. But that’s not your responsibility,”

“Yes it is! I can’t-” His throat catches and a lump forms, tears making their way to the surface, “I’ve lost everyone because I couldn’t protect them. I can’t lose you too.”

Tony pulls Peter in for a hug, and cards his fingers through the kid’s curls, “It’s okay to cry, honey. But I’m not going anywhere. Remember that. The universe will have to personally fight me before I let anything get between us. Understood?” Peter nodded slightly, but clung to his father’s shirt as he cried.

Eventually Peter fell asleep in Tony’s arms.

“I love you, kid. I’m not going anywhere.” Tony whispered, placing a kiss on top of the curls on his kid’s head.

And yes. Peter did end up punching Captain America. We don’t bring that up.

***

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!! I’ve removed several urls from my tag list because they don’t work anymore. If you would like to be part of my tag lists please send me a message or an ask!!

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Knock Me Down V

Jercy College AU: Part V

Even me I dont know how I managed to write more than two parts?!?!? It's a new record I swear.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII

Anyway this and all future updates go out to:

@danniscure and @thedarkly-blue because they're fabulous and wonderful and supported this fic so hard!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's Part V my lovelies, Part VI will be uploaded tomorrow :)

Masterlist

------------------------------------------------

Percy was lit up inside. He couldn’t stop staring at Jason, with his neat hair and faded jeans. He wondered briefly if catching lightning in a bottle would give him the same blue as those eyes. His subject of observation looked over at him and he knew nothing could ever be so intense. And then Jason Grace smiled, and Percy forgot how to breathe.

“I honestly didn’t expect your room to be so neat,”

Jason was looking around his bedroom, while he leaned against the bed post, watching the blonde move through the space.

He blushed slightly, “You would be correct…usually.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “We have someone come in once a week to do a thorough clean. They came yesterday and I haven’t had the chance to rough it up too much yet.”

“Ah.” He nodded, knowingly, “So you’ve managed to hide all your dirty secrets in the nick of time.”

Percy smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Jason moved toward him until they were barely a foot apart. “I would very much like to know pretty boi.”

He dared a step closer, “Maybe I don’t have anything to hide, jock.”

A golden hand reached for his own, “Mind if I find out?”

That voice ran down Percy’s spine and settled deep in his core. “Be my guest.”

With a final tug on his hand, Jason pulled them flush together. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw that ball flying towards your face.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

And with a twitch of a smile, Jason kissed him. It was soft, and delicate and so fleeting Percy was sure he had imagined it.

“Again.” He breathed.

And this time there was no holding back. Their lips crashed together, hot and demanding. They were a storm. A hurricane. Hands grabbed shirts, twisting as they tried to bring each other closer. Fingers grasped soft hair, shuddering at the gentle tugs.

Jason grabbed Percy’s hips, lifting him. With a cracking gasp Percy’s back hit the wall, and their lips seared together once more. The kiss slowed down. Where the storm had ended, a lazy breeze had taken its place. They explored each other. Whimpering at the sting of teeth. Whispering unintelligently at the graze of collar bones. Groaning at the tug of hair.

Slowly Percy lowered to the ground, still pressed between the wall and a gloriously flustered Jason.

“I think I know your secret.” The blonde said, touching their foreheads together.

“And what is that?” He said thickly.

“I think you’re–“

“PERCY! Are you home honey?”

The boys groaned.

“Yea mom, I’m in my room. We’ll be down now.”

He adjusted his jeans and attempted to straighten out the crumpled Green Day t-shirt. They gave each other a once over, nodding in approval at their more innocent states.

“Ready to meet my mom?”

“Well guess we had to do it before the wedding huh?”

“When’s that again?” He grinned.

“Tomorrow I believe.”

“Oh damn I can’t tomorrow. Can we reschedule?”

Jason pretended to mull it over, “Just as well, my sister wanted to discuss colours with you. Apparently, I don’t have what it takes to choose them”

Percy burst out laughing, “I promise we can choose them together love.”

The blonde’s answering smile bloomed flames in his lungs. “Let’s go meet mom.”

“Hello honey,” Sally said, eyes twinkling as they walked into the kitchen.

“Hi mom,” Percy kissed her cheek, “This is Jason.”

“Good to meet you Miss Jackson. I love your works,”

“This one in particular I presume?” She raised her eyebrows at her son.

“Mom!” He yelped. Jason turned bright red.

“Oh I’m only teasing. How are you Jason? My son tells me you saved him from a sure concussion yesterday.”

“Considering it would have been my fault if he got one, I wouldn’t say saving so much trying to not cause it in the first place.”

“Well either way, please stay and join us for dinner, in thanks. I’m sure Paul would love to meet you. Besides I’ve just put cookies in the oven for dessert and I haven’t met a person who says no to ice-cream sandwiches.”

“Mom,” Percy interrupted, ‘Do not try and hijack my guest please. This is literally the first time we’re hanging out and we do not need to scare him away.’

“Darling if I’m scaring the poor boy now he’s never going to last in this family. Anyway, he doesn’t look the least bit scared.” She waved her hand in Jason’s direction, looking him up and down.

“I’ll stay for dinner Miss Jackson. Thank you.”

With a wide grin Sally, clapped her hands and stepped out of the kitchen, “I’ll see you in a little while boys.”

Percy sighed but smiled at his mom’s retreating figure. He couldn’t be even remotely mad at her. She was just trying to be a part of his life, and she was right– nobody could resist a Sally Jackson ice-cream sandwich,

“You sure you’re cool with staying for dinner?” He turned to his friend? Guy he had just been making out with? Date?

“I really am happy to stay Percy. I wasn’t lying when I told your mom I loved her books, and besides now I’m extremely curious about this dessert.”

He chuckled at the glee in those blue eyes, “Okay, as long as you’re fine.”

“Mind if I just step out quickly to call my sister and let her know I won’t be home till later?”

“Go ahead love, I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jason Grace smiled at him and Percy knew, in his very core, he’d follow this boy to the end of the world.

---------------------------------------

Whether you love it, or hate it, or feel indifferent I always want to hear your thoughts so as usual little ducklings

PLEASE LET ME KNOW

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soda-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Spice 'n Everything Nice | EgoFlapBang Fic

Synopsis : During the weekend, the three lovers decide to take on baking.

Type : Playful Fluff

Pairing : Arin x Suzy x Dan (EgoFlapBang)

A/N : Ive been wanting to write a fic for this ship for so,, long,,, I hope you guys love it as much as i did while writing it.

During all the work that the couple had to face in the week, the weekends were something that they each looked forward to. Any couple could tell you they loved their domestic time. This domestic time could include snuggling, cuddling with a movie or other things. This rang true for the three as well, except they had other things in mind.

Instead of cuddles or late night fun, their thing happened to be baking. Suzy suggested it once and they were finally getting around to it.

“Suzy,” Dan called from the kitchen, peeking and looking around in the various cabinets. “Do you know where the flour is?”

“Right here!” She eagerly said between small huffs, hauling the newly bought flour into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

Dan smiled and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Suz'.” She couldn't help but smile in return. Arin then came bustling in afterwards, phone in hand that held the recipe for the cakes they planned to make tonight.

“Alrighty, I'm back.” Arin spoke as he walked in, looking up at the two.

“Papa's got the recipe?” Dan joked, a growing smile on his face. Arin couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh, papa's got way more than the recipe.” Arin joked back.

Suzy started working on the batter, carefully taking the ingredients and dropping them into the bowl. Dan then handed her the whisk to mix the compound together while Arin was working on making the glaze.

“God, we are making such a mess.” Dan commented as Suzy began whisking away at their soon-to-be batter. Flour littered the counter, particles of salt was on the floor and broken eggshells was set to the side.

Suzy snickered. “You mean you made such a mess.” Which brought a look to cross Dan's face before he broke into chuckles.

“You can't blame this whole thing on me, I'm not the one here with sticky fingers.” He retorted as he raised his clean fingers up. In a split moment, a handful of flour was suddenly tossed and aimed towards Dan. The whiteness of the flour now stained his shirt and hands, leaving a shocked Dan and a guilty smiling Suzy.

Instead of getting angry, it only put him in a more playful mood. The wide smile that tugged at his lips made it extremely obvious. “Oh really? This is what we're doing now?” His tone asked in a nearly daring way, which brought a heightened giggle from Suzy.

“It was an accident, I swear.” She lied through a stream of giggles, her own smile widened. Dan's eyebrows raised in a doubtful fashion, clearly not believing her. He reached over to dip his hand in the small bag of flour and catapulted a small handful in front of her, causing her to gasp and squeal. “WhOoPs! My hand must've slipped~” Dan grinned and the two began laughing, a sudden flour fight to the death initiating.

All Arin could hear was the fumbling and squealing behind him. He took a pause from stirrimg the glaze.

The hell was going on?

“The hell are you guys doing over there?” He asked, turning over his shoulder while stirring the glaze.

The scene in front of him caused him to laugh, harder than he thought. His two lovers and the kitchen were practically caked in the flour, everything was pretty much decorated in white. It was, least to say, a mess. A snow white mess. “The hell did you two do?” He continued laughing, placing the bowl of glaze to the side.

She was still trying to contain her laughter while Dan snickered to himself, trying to talk. “Uh, well..” He awkwardly tried to explain between the nonstop chuckling. “Ask Suzy.”

Suzy laughed more, playfully shoving Dan. “Aw, dude! You can't just pin it on me!”

Arin shook his head, lips pressed in a wide smile. “Jesus Christ..” He snickered in a mumble, the wide smile only stretching more. “It looks like you two got into a hussle with some snowmen.”

“Aww, are you jealous?” Dan asked, “'Cause if you wanted to be apart of it..” A mischievous grin fell on Dan's features, his hand sneakingly scooping some flour.

Arin looked up when the sound of the slowly crinkling bag fell on his ears. His eyes settled on the smirk on the man's face and slid to the hand, which held a small amount of the flour.

Immediately, he backed up and shook his head. “Oh no. Nononono.” Arin's voice fell low, hands out defensively as if it would prevent the determined man's attack. A small squeal left Suzy's lips as Dan closed in.

“Don't encourage it!” Arin quickly shushed her, his voice much more meek now as Dan was closing in on him. His sudden plea caused her to giggle, which turned to laughs as the flour was thrown.

Arin's arms quickly jump to his defense, a slight yelp left him out of the anticipation. The flour mostly landed on his arms and hair, a little dusted the bottom of the apron he was wearing. Slowly, Arin brought his arms down to reveal a playful pout that brought a light hearty laugh from Dan.

“D'aww,” He teased and lightly ruffled Arin's hair which tousled the flour around some. “You look like you've got a super bad case of dandruff or something.”

“Gee, how sweet.” Arin only pouted more, dusting off his own arms and the lower half of his apron. “Where's the batter?”

Suzy then grabbed the bowl of generously stirred pumpkin spice batter and Arin wrinkled his nose. “Is it supposed to look like weird puke mush?”

“Yeah! It pumpkin spice so its gonna look orange." She explained and grabbed the cake pan. The batter was soon in the pan and tossed into the oven. During that time, the three of them began cleaning up the mess that was made. After all, it looked like a tornado just came through there.

The baking took around twenty minutes, including cooling. Thankfully, the kitchen was back to decent shape by then, as if they totally didn't just have a flour brawl twenty minutes ago.

Arin slipped on some oven mitts and pulled out the baked cake, which surprisingly didn't look bad at all. The cake spent another good ten minutes cooling after Arin sat it on the counter. Once the cooling process was done, he then drizzled the glaze over the done cake.

It looked so mouthwatering good, better than the three of them thought it'd look. It smelled delicious too. Arin then grabbed a knife and cut the cake, then served it to the two helpers. He took one himself.

“Bottoms up.” He said, jokingly bumping the cakes together as if they were wine glasses making a toast. The three of them then took a bite out of the cakes themselves. In conclusion, they were as good as they looked and smelled.

“Holy shitmf.” Arin's voice was muffled by the chewing but was still filled with surprise and pleasure. That was some good pumpkin spice. Suzy also agreed, eating the rest of hers. After Dan ate his, he stifled a laugh and smiled. He placed his plate down. “Y'know, for wrecking the whole kitchen and getting shit everywhere, this is pretty damn good.”

Everyone else agreed with chuckles being shared among the room. “We should do this more often.” Suzy smiled, taking another slice of the glazed cake.

Dan nodded, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“And get flour stuck in our ears and god knows where else?” Asked Arin, looking at the two.

“Hey, it was fun.” Dan retorted with a laugh. “Plus, we got some damn good food out of it.”

“I guess you're right.” Arin chuckled out and smiled as he looked over his flour covered lovers.

He could get used to this.

#egoflapbang #egobang #shipgrumps #ninja ship party #polygrumps #fluff #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction

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