#when i’m saving every blueberry recipe i see

[spinebuster]

there wasn’t a sweet little blueberry treat recipe at the top of my instagram explore page :(

[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)  

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow. 

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit. 

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.” 

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.” 

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported  jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer. 

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him. 

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already. 

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.” 

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.) 

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?” 

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before? 

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting. 

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something. 

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop. 

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.” 

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response. 

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse. 

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know? 

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips. 

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet. 

[thisislizheather]

Fall Fridays Vol. 8

BAKING/COOKING

It’s almost American Thanksgiving so that means I’m gonna make my s’mores pie, which is truly the easiest pie recipe of all time.

CRAVING

A hot chocolate with a smidge of toffee syrup in it. I’ve only thought about it in theory, so as soon as the temperature drops below zero I’ll go get one.

DRINKING

Blonde flat whites for life. I’m a creature of habit.

EATING

So I finally went to the new Wegman’s in the city and the best deals? Three pounds of family pack ground chicken for $12. I’m sorry, but that’s wild. Also their $9 frozen wild blueberries family pack, get out of here. Deals for days in there.

EXPERIENCING

I’ve started arranging my saved reels into categories (makeup, funny stuff, etc.) and it’s made my life so much easier. Didn’t even know that was an option.

LISTENING

90s Disney soundtracks. They’re so soothing. Aladdin especially.

LOVING

Nathan did the Gramercy Theatre for the New York Comedy Festival and it was so phenomenal. I understand how you could think I’m biased but I truly don’t see him on stage that much, so when I do I’m usually pretty excited for it. And this tech stuff was so good. He works incredibly hard and I’m so happy that it was such a success.

SHOPPING

I DO NOT NEED MORE CANDLES. So obviously I bought the new chocolate croissant one from Trader Joe’s.

WATCHING

We saw The Shark is Broken on Broadway and it’s hard to accurately express how wonderful it was. It closes this Sunday and I’m grateful that we got to see it. Every single element (acting, script, set) was overwhelmingly good.

WEARING

I’m currently going through my entire closet and trying to arrange full outfits so that I don’t have to think too much about what I’ll wear each day. I’d just love to be a little bit more put together next year - or at least give more of a shit about that stuff. I only started thinking more about this when I realized how much I love putting together my vacation outfits and how happy that makes me, so here we are. Let’s see what happens.

[darkmulti]

(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you❤️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we’re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

[ladykissingfish]

The Great Akatsuki Bake-Off

*this was a request in my inbox, I’m so sorry Anonymous I accidentally deleted it before I could reply, but I saw your message and here’s the response! ❤️*

Premise: The Akatsuki is broke af (again), and Pein comes up with the idea of having a bake sale to earn money. Every member of the Akatsuki makes a dessert to sell; chaos (or hilarity) ensues.

**Also I picture them setting up tables outside of one of the Akatsuki hideout caves which of course is equipped with a fully functioning kitchen because why not Jim**

Pein

It was his idea, he’s the leader, so naturally he ain’t cooking. The most the Pein-body will do is sit in the kitchen with Konan while she cooks, offering his opinion or praise.

Kisame

Kisame isn’t the biggest fan of sweets, so is at a bit of a loss for what to make. In the end, he decides to go with something that’s decidedly more savory than sweet; bacon-flavored scones with a maple syrup glazing. This requires some kneading and precise shaping, the latter of which requires small, delicate fingers that Kisame borrows Konan for. Should be noted that he wears a pink Kiss The Cook apron, and he blushes like crazy when Konan reads it and delivers one to his cheek. He gets a bit over-exuberant with the icing, getting more of it on the table than the actual scones. However, the end result is light, fluffy, and absolutely delicious. Deidara especially loves the bacon aspect, and is able to snitch a great number of these until Kakuzu catches him and forces him to pay up.

Deidara

Deidara would make a classic lava cake. He’d know absolutely nothing about this dessert beforehand; he’d be going through a cookbook, his eyes would fixate on the word “lava”, and he’d be sold. Sasori insists that he put on rubber gloves beforehand, because “Nobody wants your hand-drool in their food, brat.” Lava cake requires a very delicate touch and precise timing, something that Deidara has had to become familiar with when deploying his arsenal of bombs. Yet despite being careful he would have to start and re-start this mix many times; maybe he gets eggshells in the batter here, or mistakes oil for milk there. The inside of a lava cake has to smooth and liquid-y but the outside has to be soft yet firm; a single minute in the oven can make the difference between wonderful and awful for these little cakes. When he finally perfects one, he’s ecstatic; but the rest of the group is horrified, at how destroyed the kitchen is. Chocolate batter and powdered sugar covering every wall; yet, somehow, the guy himself remains spotless. Also, Deidara has made another critical error; he assumed that because the recipe was for a cake, it was for a LARGE cake that he could cut into sections and sell piece by piece. However, lava cakes are always small, individual desserts ... and Deidara has only made ONE. Still, he’ll take his one beauty and sell it almost immediately, leaving him time to wander around and filch “free samples” from everyone else’s dishes.

Zetsu

Nobody wants Zetsu trying to cook, because everyone is terrified of what he’d put into his creations. However, White Zetsu insists that (t)he(y) wants to participate, so the others hesitantly let him do so (with everyone periodically coming in to monitor him). His contribution? Pie. Zetsu knows that the key to delicious pie is in the light flakiness of the crust, and he creates several pies that literally melt in the mouth. And he doesn’t just do one flavor; he does apple, blueberry, cherry, and something he calls “surprise berry” ((which is really just a mix of raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry). Before Tobi goes to help Itachi, he’s in charge of helping Zetsu gather up the fruit, and he helps to peel and core and pit and wash until “my hands are really sleepy Zetsu-san!” Zetsu thinks his pies are perfect creations as a whole but Kakuzu insists he cuts them into individual slices to maximize profits, which White Zetsu balks over but Black Zetsu tells him to be quiet about.

Konan

Konan is a delicate, beautiful flower, so naturally anything she makes would reflect this. After much deliberation, she decides to make her version of a layered lemon mascarpone cake. The cake itself is a wonderfully moist vanilla sponge infused with lemon curd, layered with a thick lemon, honey and mascarpone cream, topped with fresh berries, and a light sprinkle of chopped pecans. At first she was only going to make one cake and portion it out into about 20 small pieces; but the demand for it was so high that Kakuzu told her he’d stay and sell the rest while she got back into the kitchen and made another. She’s by far the neatest chef in the kitchen, as she cleans up her mess as she goes so when she’s through, all she has to wash is the empty cake pan itself. She makes sure to save a large piece to secretly take to Nagato later; it’s been a long time since he’s had anything sweet to eat.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu doesn’t want to cook; he’d rather be the one running the sale. However he recognizes that the more desserts they have the more profit they can make, so he grudgingly makes a few trays of brownies. His secret ingredient? Sour cream. At first everyone sees him putting this into his mix and think he’s gone crazy; however, after they try one ((and don’t think for a second he’s not charging his fellow teammates for even a tiny sliver)) they’re blown away by how good they are. After he sets his items on the table, he’s the one who collects the money from the customers. Has to be talked down from the exorbitant prices that he tries to charge people at first. “How much for a piece of blueberry pie?” “500,000 ¥.”

Sasori

He really isn’t into baking (because why would he be? he doesn’t eat) but he knows how to read and follow a recipe. After some careful thought, he chooses to make cupcakes. At first he resolves only to make a dozen, and to keep it all one simple flavor: the chocolate with vanilla frosting that’s in the recipe. Yet as he stands there, a feeling takes hold of him; he remembers happier times, perched on a stool in the kitchen and watching/helping his grandmother as she cooked. That nostalgia drives him to get more creative, and make MUCH more than intended. Some of his creations are great; such as his ginger-chocolate cupcakes with fudge icing. But others, like his broccoli and carrot cake topped with “spicy” cream cheese, not so much. Regardless, the majority of his creations sell, which Sasori’s pleased about. Should be noted that Kakuzu did not entirely trust Sasori not to put some kind of poison into his dessert, so he forced Hidan to sneak and taste-test everything (as he’s the only one who would regenerate from certain death). But Hidan wouldn’t know arsenic from cinnamon; and he winds up with a hell of a stomach-ache after his forced culinary servitude.

Itachi and Tobi

Seeing as how he loves dango so much, Itachi decides to make several dozen sticks of the tri-colored sweet rice dumplings. He keeps the pink dumpling the common strawberry flavor, and the white plain, but he does something special with the green ball, flavoring it with vanilla extract and green tea. Because Tobi is a nightmare in the kitchen (and because he needs supervision when it comes to sweets), Itachi allows him to help, mainly in the form of sticking the dumplings neatly on the stick once they’re shaped. He’s a good helper, except for when Itachi takes his eyes off of him, as he likes to add icing, sprinkles, and a variety of decadent extras that don’t belong on this simple dessert. And it’s a good thing that Itachi makes so many, seeing as they BOTH sneak and eat quite a few when the other is distracted. Tobi is very helpful when it comes to pushing their wares, as his carefree, childlike demeanor attracts customers to their table.

Hidan

Hidan wants something that’s visually representative of him, so what does he make? Red velvet cake bars. The outside is covered with a white-silver frosting, but when you cut into it, the deep red of the cake greatly resembles blood. Hidan isn’t the best at baking (or cooking in general) so he asks Konan to help him when she’s not occupied with her own dish. He’s surprisingly calm and conscientious in the kitchen, keeping his swearing to a minimum and being extra-careful with measuring out ingredients and waiting on the oven to do its thing. He borrows Kisame’s Kiss The Cook apron, only he crosses out the second O and replaces it with a C. His bars come out slightly uneven but really good nonetheless. However, being Hidan, he can’t resist throwing in a prank; he saves some of the cake batter and holds it in his mouth, then, after taking a bite of someone else’s fare, claims that it’s poisoned and spits “blood” out of his mouth, which freaks out their early customers until Kakuzu catches him and exiles him back inside.

[machine-gun-casie]

Almond Poppy Seed Muffins

you’re hired to help with the menu at colson’s new cafe and the lines of employer and employee quickly blur.

wc: 6k (!!!)

-

“Sit up, man.” Slim knocked Colson upside the head. “Menu person’s coming.”

Colson groaned and lifted his head off of the one table in the unopened cafe. “Tell me again why we booked this meeting for eight in the fucking morning.”

“Because it’s professional.” Slim whispered as the creak of the door echoed in the empty area. “Now sit the fuck up.”

You walked over with your shoulders back and your head held high, looking as professional as possible. Colson’s eyes were comically wide as he watched you approach the table. Your confidence was coming off in waves and Colson couldn’t help but be attracted to it.

Slim stood up. “Hi, you must be y/n.” He smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand. You smiled back and Colson immediately forgot he was hungover. 

“Yeah, I am. You’re the one who talked to me on the phone?” 

“That was me. I’m the manager. You can call me Slim.” Slim pulled back his hand and patted Colson on the shoulder. “This is Kel-”

“I’m Colson.” Colson shot up and shoved his hand in your direction. ”I’m the owner.”

“Thank you guys for calling me in.” You smiled at him this time and Colson almost fell back into his chair. 

“Thank you for coming. Let’s get started, shall we?” Slim said, sitting back down and both you and Colson followed. “We were hoping this could be a collaborative effort, because we want the menu to be unique to us and have some personal touches.” Colson looked at Slim with furrowed eyebrows, he’s never met this version of Slim before.

“Yes, of course. I’ve only got some basic items on my list, I wanted to sit down with you before we get into the trial phase. If there’s anything specific you wanted on the menu, or anything specific you don’t want, we can get that out of the way now.” You pulled out a tablet as you spoke, entering the password and opening your notes.

“There’s only a few items that we really want on the menu, but the rest is up to you.” Slim nodded as you took note of his words on your tablet. “What do you have so far?”

“I’ve got some basic avocado toast, bagels, and breakfast paninis.” You explained, showing them some pictures you had saved. “I’ve been to the surrounding cafes and seen the staples, but I wanted this place to have some unique staples of its own. So I added mini bacon tacos and almond poppy seed muffins.”

Colson’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love almond poppy seed muffins! I was just going to tell you to add them to the menu.”

“No way, I love them too!” You beamed at him. “They’re so underrated. Everywhere I look for them, all I find is lemon poppy seed.”

Colson didn’t know how to respond, he just couldn’t believe he made you smile. Before the silence got awkward, Slim cleared his throat. “Bacon tacos? Are those tacos with bacon?”

“No, they’re bacon taco shells. Made them mini because full sized could get expensive in the long run.” You said, showing him a picture. “I’ve seen them online, but never in cafes and never here. Could definitely bring in some customers, everyone loves bacon.”

“Yeah, for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen those around here before. There’s also some things we need to have on the menu.” Slim said, looking over at Colson.

“Yeah, we need blueberry pancakes and cheese eggs.”

“And do you have any ideas for their names on the menu.” You asked, typing away.

“The pancakes are gonna be Casie’s Weekend Special, C-A-S-I-E. With whipped cream and berries on top.” You nodded and he continued. “And Champ’s Cheesy Eggs for the eggs. Oh, and we also got these special coffee beans coming in next month for a specific cold brew. I want it to be called Cold Brew but with the C-O-L in capital letters.”

“That’s just for it’s name on the menu, right? Because I don’t do coffee stuff.” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, yeah for sure. I’m making that myself, no need to worry about it.” Colson said.

“Okay, good. Is that it?” You asked as you typed.

“We might add some more later, but you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Alright, I’ll start the trial phase this week. I’ll test out the recipes and all that. When I’ve polished everything off, we can do some taste testing.”

“How long do you think you’ll take to finish?” Slim asked.

“You should get a call in about a week or two.” 

Slim smiled and nodded. “Perfect, we’re set to open in a few months.”

“I’ll have enough time to train the staff before then.”

“Great, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” You pulled out two business cards and put them on the table, one in front of Slim and one in front of Colson. “This is my business card, in case you need to contact me.”

Colson could have sworn your gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it did on Slim. 

This was not a business card he was going to throw away. No way.

-

The buzzing of your phone pulled you away from your laptop. You were up all night researching and hearing the notification finally pulled you out of the rabbit hole.

It took a while to find your phone in all the blankets on your bed. But when you finally did, the notification that was on your lock screen was not something you were expecting.

Colson requested to follow you on Instagram. 

Woah. Unexpected. 

You opened your phone and accepted his request and followed him back.

- verified?

C- what can i say im a rockstar

- hahaha

- seriously tho, why?

C- u really dont know?

- nope. enlighten me

C- im a rapper

- no way! i work for a rapper now?

C- i guess you do haha

So your night that started off with researching recipes quickly turned into a night researching Machine Gun Kelly.

Song after song and interview after interview, you wondered how you spent your life not knowing of Machine Gun Kelly’s extensive career. You couldn’t say that you had never heard the name before, but this was way more than you expected.

-

Your Instagram seemed to pick up on your search history, so your explore page was only memes about your boss from the moment you googled his name.

You weren’t sure you could look him in the face the next time you saw him, something about two nines on his waist. 

(creds: @ticketstomydownfall​)

- how come you never told me your full name?

C- sorry it just never came up, i never meant to keep it from you

C- i hope you understand

- it’ll take me a while, but im hurt you didn't tell me

And so it began, every time you took a break from menu research you would send memes back and forth. You would send Colson cooking memes he wouldn’t get and he would send you musician memes you wouldn’t get. A healthy balance, you joked. 

But your favorites had to be the Machine Gun Kelly memes. 

-

A new cafe opened a few streets down from Colson’s unopened one, so he decided to check out the competition. He stood in line and read the menu. He perked up when he saw the place had poppy seed muffins in their display. It kind of worried him because he wanted them to be his cafe’s thing, but he wouldn’t mind having one right now.

“Hi! What can I get you, sir?”

“Can I get a cold brew and one of those muffins please?” Colson pointed at the basket of muffins.

“The poppy seed?” Colson nodded and the barista reached over and picked one up.

“Are those almond or lemon?”

“These are almond poppy seed muffins, they’re here for a limited time only. Don’t think we’ll have them back anytime soon.”

The barista put the muffin in a paper bag and instructed Colson to wait by the pick up area. As he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent you a picture of the muffin.

C- new place got almond! poppy seed muffins

C- for a limited time only tho, we in the clear

Ever since you started texting, you had told him not to expect any fast responses. Your sleep schedule was all over the place because you ‘work best at night’ is what you told him. The menu was coming up fast and you told Colson to expect some taste testing soon.

So when he got a response from you within seconds, he was confused. He wasn’t complaining, that’s for sure. It just wasn’t like you.

- look in the corner

He looked up and saw you in the corner looking right at him with your phone in your hands. You laughed when you made eye contact and beckoned him over. He pointed towards the barista and you nodded. 

As soon as his cold brew was in his hands, he dashed over to you. 

“Well, well, well.” Colson smirked, sitting down across from you. “I see you fixed your sleep schedule.”

“Kinda. Just for today.” You smiled. He didn’t know if you always smiled or if you always smiled around him. Colson liked to think it was the latter. “You checkin’ out the competition?”

“Yeah, so are you. What do you think of the muffins?” Colson asked.

“Mine are better.” You shrugged.

“Gotta try ‘em first before I agree.”

“In time.”

-

It had been two weeks since you saw Colson at the cafe. You ended up staying there for a few hours, time seemed to fly by with him. You gushed about the flourishing menu to him and he smiled and nodded. You knew his appreciation towards the topic wasn’t at your level, but he encouraged you to keep going. ‘I like hearing you talk’ were his exact words.

You were a blushing mess by the end of the night. Some insinuations were made and you could definitely tell that he was as into you as you were into him. And you were willing to tease the possibility.

- im not considered an assistant, am i?

C- you could be if you wanted

- i think assisting with the cafe could be considered an assisting position

C- id be inclined to agree

-

Colson needed to get away. He needed out right the fuck now.

He couldn’t bear staring at his bedroom ceiling any longer. The demons in his head were louder than ever and he needed an escape. 

Closing the door gently, he made sure not to make any loud noises so as to not wake anyone in the house. He got into his car and drove off. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew he was going.

He found himself parked in front of his cafe after a few minutes, not knowing how he got there or how he decided this was the place to escape to. He did have the keys on him. He could just head in, put together a couple of those tables that came in the other day and do something with his hands. Anything to get his mind to shut up for a little while.

The click of the keys turning in the lock sent a shiver up his spine. He made sure to lock the door behind him just in case. The thought of someone already being there never even crossed his mind.

Until he heard something from the back. The kitchen.

The kitchen was fully finished a week ago, decked with all kinds of high tech equipment. Worth a shit ton of money. Did Colson really just stumble into a robbery? Of his own fucking cafe?

He stomped over to the kitchen, fully prepared to beat someone up. 

So when he saw you dancing around in a flour covered tank top and shorts with music blasting in your headphones, he had to take a step back.

You screeched when you saw him at the door. “Holy fuck!” Colson laughed as you bent over and put a hand to your chest, taking your headphones out. “My heart just fucking dropped into my ass!”

“I thought you were a robber. I was ready to throw hands.” Colson said nonchalantly as he strode over to you.

“I thought you were going to murder me! What are you doing here? I could have sworn I locked the door.”

“You did.” Colson nodded.

“Shit, right.” You chuckled. “Owner, sorry I forgot.” You pointed at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.” You shot back at him.

“Right, right.” He nodded and looked down. “Needed to get away. Found myself here.”

He hated the way your eyes softened at his words, he didn’t need pity or help or someone to fucking ask him if he ‘wants to talk it out’. But you didn’t say any of those things, and he really should have known. You were different.

“I told you. I work best at night. Slim gave me the key last week so I can utilize this amazing kitchen.” You motioned to the high tech equipment around you. “Muffins are almost done, actually.”

“Poppy seed?”

“Mhm, about six minutes left. But I got some pancakes right here, if you wanna try some?” You asked, picking up a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes.

Colson nodded and took the plate out of your hands. You handed him a fork and he cut himself a bite. 

He brought it to his lips and paused, catching your hitched breath. “Don’t play with me! Just eat it!” You laughed, moving the fork into his mouth as he laughed at his stupid joke. His face was thoughtful as he chewed for a few moments. “Well?”

“It’s good.” He hummed. “Really good. But not better than Casie’s.”

“Doubt I can make it better than Casie’s when it’s her name on the menu.” You smiled. “She your girl?” 

The question slipped out before you could catch it. It was swirling around in your jealous head every time you saw the name in your notes. You weren’t exactly flirting with Colson these past few weeks, but if he had a girlfriend you would feel kind of guilty because you definitely caught feelings. 

Okay, you were definitely flirting. The whole assistant meme? For sure. And you were at least attracted to him. And with the way he has been looking at you, you knew he felt the same way.

“My daughter. It’s just me and her.” Colson smiled, knowing why you were asking and definitely not minding clearing that up for you. “She makes blueberry pancakes on the weekends for me. Best pancakes on the planet. Scratch that, in the fucking universe.”

“Aw shit, I can’t compete with that.” You chuckled. “Gotta try the best pancakes in the fucking universe some time.”

“For sure, I’ll bring her over when you finish up to try your stuff. Maybe you can take some pointers from her.”

“No offence to your daughter’s pancakes, but I think I’m good.” You chuckled. “This is my job and I’m damn good at it.”

“Alright, alright. No need to get feisty on me.” Colson laughed, putting his hands up in surrender. “My daughter’s pancakes will always be number one for me. You know how it is. She doesn’t know I’m putting her name on the menu, though.”

“Bet she’s gonna be so happy, I know I would be. I’ve always wanted my name on a menu.” 

Colson nodded and looked down at the counter that you were leaning against. Your phone, which was placed on the same counter, lit up with a notification that revealed your lock screen.

The notification wasn’t what caught Colson’s attention, the music that was playing did. “Are you- are you playing my music?”

“What?” You asked, your hand quickly darting to cover your phone. Colson laughed and pulled your hand away.

“No no no, I saw that.” He chuckled, grabbing the phone. “Loco? Not what I expected you to like, to be honest.”

You shrugged and pushed yourself away from the counter. “It’s got a good beat to whisk to.” You moved away from him and towards the oven and slipped on some mitts.

“The muffins are done? I didn’t hear a timer.”

“It’s all up here, pretty boy.” You smirked at him, tapping your finger against your temple. “If I leave them in any longer they’ll burn.” You explained, dropping the piping hot muffin tray onto the counter.

Colson’s hand slowly reached over to the tray, but you slapped it away before he could touch one. “Ay, they need to cool down! Still didn’t even finish them, man.” You huffed as you took off the oven mitts. You looked at him and saw him staring at you. “What?”

He just smiled his little cute ass smile and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Your hand came up to wipe at your cheeks.

Colson held your wrist and pulled it away from your face. “No, you don’t have anything on your face. You just…”

“Just what?” You don’t know when you started whispering, but it felt like you had to. The moment, so fragile and intimate, you didn’t want to scare it away.

“You look really fucking cute right now.” Colson breathed out, his eyes not once leaving yours.

“You don’t just say that to a girl, Colson.”

“Who said I was just saying it?”

The moment lost its preciousness when Colson put his hand on the hot muffin tin. “Ah fuck!” He brought his hand up to his chest, cradling it.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” You chuckled as you led him to the sink. “Come here, let me run some cold water on it.”

“Fuck me, I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” He asked as he let you tend to his hand.

“A little, but you didn’t completely lose me.” You mused, teasing him. “I gotta put the glaze on the muffins, then you can have one.”

“There’s glaze!” He asked excitedly. “I fucking love the ones with the glaze on top.”

“I know.” You hummed, taking the bowl with the sugary glaze and spreading a little on each muffin. After you finished all of them, you went back to the first one you covered and popped it out of the tin. You held it up and brought it to Colson’s mouth. “Try it.”

He bit into and moaned almost sinfully at the flavor. That fucker knew what he was doing. 

“These are so fucking good.” Colson groaned.

“Damn right they are. You know how hard I worked on that recipe?” You exclaimed, proud the muffins came out as good as Colson made them seem to be.

“Really fuckin’ hard, I take it.” Colson replied. “Come here, you gotta taste it.”

Before you could take a bite out of the muffin, Colson put his finger under your chin and led your lips to his.

You pulled away a few seconds later, breaking the kiss. “You’re right, that tastes really fucking good.”

“You keep talking like that and I don’t think we’re gonna make it outta this place.” Colson smirked.

“The staff room’s got a couch.” 

-

(Elvgren Brunette Pin-Up Girl “Let's Eat Out”)

C- you last night

- excuse me?

C- what?

C- ur the sexy muffin girl

- how dare you?

- i would never burn my muffins

C- dude

C- im tryna flirt with you here

- well try harder

- 

Colson didn’t expect to walk into the cafe the next week with Slim and his daughter to see you wearing his shirt from that night. Casie was just excited to eat the food, so she didn’t notice. 

But Slim noticed. Colson coming home without a shirt wasn’t crazy. But you wearing said missing shirt? Yeah, he saw this coming. He smirked at Colson who tried to brush it off but his blushing cheeks betrayed him. Holy fuck, you had him blushing. What the fuck was he going to do with you?

You told them to sit tight while you brought out the plates. When you disappeared into the back, Colson mumbled something about going and helping you out.

“Nice shirt.” He smirked.

“Thanks, I got it from this guy.” You teased.

“This guy?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you as he picked up two plates.

“Yeah, tall lanky blonde dude. I don’t know if you know him, but he’s a rapper.” You smiled, expertly carrying four plates in your arms. “He’s verified on Instagram.”

Casie and Slim both watched with amused smirks on their faces as you and Colson walked out of the kitchen giggling. 

With you none the wiser, Colson mouthed ‘Shut up!’ at them. Slim snickered and Casie raised her hands up in surrender. You placed two small plates on each placemat, not aware of the conversation going on around you.

“First, we’ve got the mini bacon tacos.” You said, pointing at each plate. “The bacon shells are filled with a spinach and scrambled egg mixture with a few slices of fresh avocado.”

“Oh my god, dad! The tacos are made of bacon!” Casie exclaimed when she looked down at the plate. 

“Stop drooling and eat your food before I do.” Slim mumbled through a mouthful of bacon taco.

“Ay!” Casie shot Slim a look and used her hand as a shield against her taco. “Don’t you touch my food.”

“Then eat it!”

“I will, get off my back!”

“Hey!” Colson shouted, getting their attention. “No fighting in front of our guest!”

Slim and Casie looked up at you and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” They apologized in unison and you fought hard to not let out a snort.

“It’s alright.” You giggled. “Do you like the tacos?”

Casie stuffed half the taco into her mouth and nodded. “Iss real goo’.”

Colson chuckled and wiped some avocado off his daughter’s face. “I think that’s the equivalent of three michelin stars.”

As everyone cleaned off their plates of all eggs and bacon, you remembered something you wanted to mention.

“Now, next are the blueberry pancakes. But before you guys dig in, Casie, I need to ask you something.” Casie perked up at your words. “Your dad told me that your pancakes are the best in the universe. And because this is his cafe, I would like it if he liked my pancakes too. So if you have any advice for me, I’m all ears.”

Casie looked between you and the pancakes for a moment. 

“I’m gonna guess that you don’t use the boxed stuff, right?” You nodded. “Alright, I’ve got one trick that I use. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone.”

You stuck out your pinky and nodded. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise.” Casie looped her pinky with yours and smiled. “Y’all gotta shut your ears.” She said to Colson and Slim.

“But-”

“No buts!” She stopped Slim. “Shut your ears!” Casie watched her dad and uncle as they slowly covered their ears with their hands, confused and trying but failing to hold in their laughter.

“Alright, my trick is hazelnut milk. I use it instead of normal milk. Makes it kind of taste like Nutella, and Dad loves Nutella. And I add a teeny tiny bit of cardamom powder. The tiniest pinch. Made the recipe all by myself, so I better get credit.”

You smiled and made eye contact with her. “Trust me, you’re gonna get your credit.”

-

C- my jaw still hasn't recovered

- shouldn’t that be my line?

C- remind me to never show anyone our texts ever in life

- noted

C- are you free tomorrow?

- yeah why?

C- meet me at the cafe at noon

C- theres something i wanna show u and casie

-

You smiled when you saw Colson and Casie approaching the cafe. You had gone to the store so as to not arrive too early, but you still beat them by a few minutes.

“Hey.” Colson smiled. “You brought stuff?”

“Yeah, just a few secret ingredients.” You nodded, holding the canvas bag behind your back. “If I show you, I have to kill you.”

“Can I see?” Casie asked.

“Of course.” You scoffed and winked at her.

“Hey! How come she can see but I can’t?” Colson asked incredulously. 

You shrugged and giggled. “Why are we here, Colson?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“Something came in today.”

“The coffee beans?” You asked, hoping you’d get a taste of his COLd brew. Yes, you told him it was stupid. No, he wouldn’t budge.

“Nope, the chalkboard.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes lit up. “For the menu?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, can I help? Please, I wanna do the border.” Casie pleaded.

“Of course, special girl.” Colson nodded at her. “You gotta help bring it out, though.” 

“Let’s get the chalkboard!” Casie jumped up and tried to open the door.

Colson told her to hold on, the door wasn’t unlocked. He pulled out his keys and turned the lock, opening the door wide enough for Casie to run inside.

“It’s in the back.” Colson called after her.

She ran past you both to the staff room.

“She’s cute.” You chuckled once she was out of earshot.

Colson walked into the cafe with you and closed the door behind him. “Yeah, she got it from me.”

Before you had time to reply, a resounding crash came from the back.

“Casie!” You both dashed to the back to see if she got hurt.

“I’m fine!” She said once you both walked into the room. Casie was fine, but the long cardboard box she was pulling was no longer upwards but flat on the floor. “I think I broke it, though.” She winced.

Colson sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Case…“

You smiled at Casie to calm her down. “It’s alright, as long as you’re not hurt.” You approached her and pulled her into a side hug and observed the fallen box. “Let’s see the damage out in the front, come on.”

The box was pulled out by all of you to the front where you opened it and pulled out the chalkboard. The chalkboard that was once one piece was now distinctly two pieces.

Casie sighed dejectedly. “I broke it bad.”

“No, no. This is definitely not bad.” You reassured her and looked over at Colson to back you up.

“Yeah, princess. This is not bad.” He said, not really knowing why it was great but only playing along with you as to not make his baby girl feel bad. “Why is this not bad?”

You laughed and kneeled down to fully pull out the two broken pieces out of the box. “We can make it look intentional. See, the crack is going diagonally down the middle. You can do the border around each piece. It would look really cool.”

“That would actually look really dope.” Colson said as he finally understood what you were getting at. “None of the other places have anything like this.”

“See? Told you.” You nodded. “What would you do without me, huh?”

“I have no clue.” Colson mumbled as he knelt down to sit next to you. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear it, but you sure did. “Alright, y’all can do the border. Leave the rest to me.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Colson. “It’s gonna take you a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You have everything written down somewhere?”

You nodded and pulled out your phone from your pocket. You opened up your notes app and handed it to him. “This is my latest draft for the final menu. Do with it what you wish.”

And so you got to work. Every time you tried to peek at what Colson was writing, he’d push you away and say it was a surprise. So you stuck to what he assigned you. The border took you and Casie no time, even after adding some doodles here and there and signing the bottom right corner.

“Dad?” Casie perked up.

“Yeah?” Colson asked, still focused on his penmanship.

“You good to finish it up?”

“Yeah, why?”

“y/n and I need to go to the kitchen.”

“You do?”

“We do?”

“Yes.” Casie nodded at you. “We do.” 

“Oh!” You smiled, remembering the bag you had brought with you. “We do!”

“Mhm.” Casie smiled sweetly at her dad and hopped up and headed towards the kitchen. “Come on, y/n! No time to waste.”

You giggled at her antics and shrugged at Colson. “No time to waste, I guess.” You grabbed your bag full of ingredients and followed the little sassy child to the kitchen.

You placed the bag on the counter and smiled at her. “So, how many do you wanna make?”

“Not many.” She shrugged as she helped you take out the ingredients. “Just a few to try out the recipe.”

“Good idea.” You nodded. “I changed my original recipe a little bit, added your suggestions and a few more things. That cardamom powder is a great addition, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Casie beamed. “So you’re a chef, huh?”

“Not exactly.” You mused as you pulled out the bowls and measuring equipment. “If we had to get technical, I guess my job is a menu curator. I help people make menus for their cafes or restaurants.”

“But dad said you make really good food.” Casie pointed out as she measured some dry ingredients into a large bowl. “Did you learn it by yourself or did you go to school for it?”

“A little bit of both.” You paused to help her not spill the flour and continued. “I’ve been to a few culinary schools, but only the ones that you attend for a few months. But I’ve always loved cooking.”

“So this must be your dream job, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. You wanna crack the eggs?” You asked and handed her the eggs when she nodded. “What’s your dream job?”

“I’m not really sure, I’m only eleven.” She shrugged and threw out the egg shells. “But I really like the music industry. So probably something in that. Maybe a producer or something. I’ve helped out Uncle Slim on some of my dad’s stuff and it was fun.”

“No way! That’s really cool. I know nothing about the music industry, if I’m being honest.” You confessed.

“Did you know about Dad’s music?” She asked. You paused for a moment, knowing this was coming. Casie wasn’t stupid, she knew something was going on between you and her dad. She wanted to make sure you were right for him. And she was definitely not going to beat around the bush to find out.

“Not when I first met him. But he followed me on Instagram and I asked why he was verified and he told me.” You said.

“Oh.” Casie said, pausing to think of what to say next. “Okay.”

You looked at her and furrowed your eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded as she poured out the hazelnut milk into a measuring cup. “I like you, y/n. And I know my dad likes you, too. If he didn’t think you were a good person, then I wouldn’t even be here.”

Pushing the bowl closer to her so the milk wouldn’t go on the counter, you stayed silent so she could continue. “And I know you were wearing his shirt the other day, which means my dad really likes you. But you gotta know that being with my dad comes with stuff not everyone likes. I know you like me, which is obvious because I’m amazing.”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded semi-seriously, giggling with her.

“But there’s also his music and the whole public thing, which gets weird sometimes.” Casie’s eyebrows rose as she spoke, indicating that she’s seen enough to know what she was talking about. “They say things and they lie and they might drag your name through the mud. But some people forget that the things they say only last for a news cycle.”

“You are wise beyond your years, Ms. Casie Baker.” You pointed at her. “I think meeting you has been the best part of working for your dad.”

-

A week later, Colson called you back to meet at the cafe. After making the pancakes with Casie, Colson refused to show you the menu. He insisted it still needed more work and that neither of you could see it until it was properly set up behind the front counter.

Both you and Casie moaned and groaned, telling him a little peak wouldn’t hurt. But he held his ground.

Walking up to the cafe, you saw that Colson and Casie beat you this time around. Colson was sitting down as Casie jumped around him, begging him to remove the white sheet hiding the chalkboard on the wall.

“Hey guys.” You said as you opened the door.

“y/n!” Casie called, running up to you. “Thank god you’re finally here! He made me wait this whole time.”

You looked up at Colson who was shaking his head. “We’ve been here for eight minutes.” He chuckled.

“That’s a whole four hundred and eighty seconds!” 

“Ay, that was some nice quick math!” Colson cheered and held his hand up for a high five. 

Casie slapped his hand and walked over to the menu. “Alright, she’s here. Can we please see the menu now?” She pleaded.

Colson sighed and nodded. He positioned you and Casie to stand in front of the board and placed your hands on your eyes. 

“On three, open your eyes.” Colson instructed as he held onto the white fabric. “One, two…”

You and Casie waited for him to continue only to hear him snickering. “Dad!”

“Alright, alright.” You heard the fabric fall to the floor. “Three!”

You gasped when you finally laid eyes on the long awaited finished menu. Colson somehow made all you and Casie’s little doodles crisper and more vivid. The border around both the pieces had some additional patterns here and there, obviously courtesy of Colson. Your eyes scanned the names of the menu items quickly, most of them already known to you from your notes.

“Casie’s Weekend Special?” Casie asked after a moment of silence, looking up at her dad. “No way! Are those the pancakes?”

“Yeah, you like it?” Colson smiled.

She giggled and jumped up to hug Colson. “I love it!”

“I told you you’d get your credit.” You smirked at her.

She climbed off her dad and gasped. “You knew?”

You nodded and she attacked you with a hug too. You laughed as you almost toppled over from the sudden embrace.

You continued reading the menu when Casie climbed off of you. You chuckled at the ‘Bomb A$$ Bacon Tacos’ and at the ‘COLd Brew’. You smiled when you read ‘y/n’s ALMOND poppy seed muffins’.

Wait what.

“Colson…”

“You said you’ve always wanted your name on a menu. Besides, it’s your recipe.” Colson stumbled back as you attacked him in a hug this time.

You sighed against the skin of his neck and whispered a soft ‘thank you’. You pulled back and stood there for a bit, just looking at his piercing blue eyes. How can someone’s eyes be so blue?

“Oh my god! Just kiss her already!” Casie exclaimed.

“Woah! Where did that come from, little lady?” Colson turned to look at Casie without letting you go.

“You guys are making major goo goo eyes at each other. Just kiss! I’ll cover my eyes, don’t worry.” She said, placing her hand over her eyes.

“I mean, she’s kinda-”

You cut him off by placing your lips against his. Casie giggled as she peeked between her fingers. Colson furrowed his eyebrows and groaned his disapproval into the kiss, waving his free arm at his daughter. 

You giggled against Colson’s lips and pulled his waving arm back. You pulled away and reached out one arm around Casie and dragged her into the embrace. “Your dad is a real romantic, Casie.”

“Thanks, I taught him well.”

“Yeah, you really did.”

[wordynerdygurl]

Sticky, Sweet

Author’s Note:  I’m so pleased to tell you that this is the first of my 1000 Followers Requests!  Again, how do 1000 people like me enough to read my words?  I don’t know!!  But I love you all!   Also, bless my beta - @sammy-jo1977​ ... she lets me drag her to hell and back, and goes willingly.  Lots of Love, lady! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader, appearances from many of the Avengers Tower residents Summary:  This was requested by the amazing, adorable and always supportive @alexakeyloveloki​ ... As I hit my milestone, she was having a birthday, and this, I hope will be a gift she’ll enjoy.  You deserve it girl! The request was:  One with Loki and a Curvy Reader where she works in the Tower, maybe the canteen, and people are mean to her and Loki likes her for some odd reason and... smut ensues. I did make some changes, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, @alexakeyloveloki​ !! Warnings:  This one might give you a toothache!  There’s smut, but it’s sweet!

“Uh, yes.  Might I trouble you for a chocolate croissant and… a cappuccino, large, please.”

You knew the owner of that voice without raising your eyes.  Today he was wearing charcoal grey slacks with straight creases all the way down.  A shirt, starched, bright white, with rolled back sleeves revealing the articulate length of his forearms.  All of his dark locks were gathered over his open collar in a low man bun, which is something you had laughed at other men for doing.  Somehow, the tall, trim man in front of you was making it work in a way that made your mouth water.

Flashing him a megawatt smile, full of promise, “My pleasure!  Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No.  Thank you, though.”, warm and caramel sweet, his response made you melt.

Clearing your throat, struggling to maintain some sense of composure, “A name… for the order?”

“Loki… that’s L, O, K, I…”, his own grin widening at the request.

You knew his name.  He’d been coming to your little dessert cart for months now and every time you asked, just like you did for all of your customers.  And each time he spelled out the letters for you, as if you were taking his order for the first time.  Handing back change only for him to drop it into the tip jar, you let your eyes linger over Loki just a moment more, enjoying the view.

Most of the visitors to Avengers Tower paid you little to no attention.  Outside of offering a cup of joe and a giant cookie, you had no bearing on the day to day business of the super hero syndicate, and that was just fine by you.  Everyone else?  They all had important things to do.  Meetings and appointments were near constant as apparently saving the world took a lot of planning.  And, thankfully, a lot of coffee, danish and muffins.

Of all your customers, the actual, swear to God heroes were the most colorful.  They were also the most loyal of your clients, stopping in at least daily, although, there were occasions where you would see Wanda two or three times in a day.  Especially if you had made those little mille-feuille stacks that reminded her of home.

Thor would buy out your stash of jelly donuts, to the chagrin of the office workers in line behind him, but then divvy them up as a way of apologizing.  Ms. Romanoff had a tendency to whisper her order, lest anyone realize her secret desire for a sinfully sweet White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream.  Captain Rogers?  His routine was the most straight-forward.  Black coffee, ma’am, Blueberry muffin, thank you so much.

Loki, from the start, had been different.  Unlike Mr. Stark, Loki looked you in the eye when placing his order.  He never seemed distracted by the technology buzzing around or the high ranking officials clustered in these hallowed halls.  Loki also didn’t order 12 shots of espresso, steamed skim milk, no foam, and one donut hole.  No, that was Tony to a t.

But Loki?  This giant guy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, always ordered your daily special.  Frilly pink cupcakes, jam filled eclairs, fruity hand pies, Loki had tasted them all.  And he still turned up, day after day, eager and kind.  That had to mean something, right?

Honestly, it was the pinnacle of your day when, looking up from the grinder, you’d see him towering majestically over the office drones all in a row.  Knowing that smooth voice would soon be speaking to you, even if it was just to get a snack on the run, was almost enough.  Almost.

Letting your gaze linger after Loki’s retreating figure, you got lost in a daydream, one where you were making Loki coffee in your kitchen.  His lengthy legs tucked under your tiny table, a tray of fresh cookies in front of him as he read, sometimes with his shirt on… sometimes without.  Feeling your cheeks warm up at the image, you shook your head, ready to refocus on the caffeine craving customers still in line.

As closing time drew near, you began the daily task of cleaning up your cart.  Sweeping, wiping, sterilizing, washing, drying.  There was a rhythm to it all and you often found yourself entrained in the work, as usually there were few distractions at this time of day.  

“Excuse me?”  

Spinning, surprised, you barely kept hold of the carafe in your hands as you spotted Ms. Pepper Potts standing at your kiosk, “Oh gosh!  I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Waving away your worry, Pepper took a moment to introduce herself properly before getting down to business, “I was wondering if you had ever considered catering before?  You were highly recommended by a colleague and I am looking for assistance with an event we're hosting in a few weeks.  What I really need is someone to help with an after hours sort of thing.”

Your heart leapt in your chest, thumping wildly, threatening to bust out of your chest.  Now, you’d be lying if you said that expanding your business wasn’t part of the dream.  Always hopeful that your little cafe cart could somehow be expanded into a little sweet shop or bistro bakery, you had been hard at work for the last two years, slinging lattes and refining recipes until the right moment arrived.

When you said as much to Ms. Potts, her gracious smile lit up, “Then this, my friend, is that moment.”

Details were exchanged, pricing negotiated, plans put in place.  In ten days you were going to be providing The Avengers and their guests with pastries, cookies, coffee and tea.  There was a select menu so that you wouldn't be running around like crazy, which would make prep time easy, but Pepper had told you to be creative.  In short, you were getting your shot and the excitement of that put you on cloud nine.

As you had arranged with Ms. Potts, while the guests attended one of Mr. Stark’s lavish galas downtown, you were given access to the Avengers Suite near the top floors of the tower.  Seeing the building, well past your normal 5:00 pm, was energizing.  Getting to sneak a peek at where the most important people working here spent their days was overwhelming, but you were giddy at the prospect.

In a sweet spot, just inside the expansive glass doors which led to the sky rise patio, you set up your display.  Feeling pretty proud of yourself, you only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator dinged on the first arrivals, including the host and hostess for the night.  "Here we go!", whispering to yourself, you took an anxiously excited breath.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the glitz of it all.  Tony Stark, wearing a plum colored tuxedo, had his Rolex draped arm around Pepper.  She was stunning in her black column gown, purple jewels at her throat and ears, the perfect counterpoint to Tony’s ensemble.  You struggled not to stare.

More people filtered in, some went to the bar, where champagne popped regularly.  A few grabbed frosty glasses of fresh beer.  And for a time you thought you were invisible among all the glamour around you.  Honestly, you were surrounded by the type of people who graced magazine covers and had in depth chats with Oprah.  That wasn’t you by a long shot.

Then, of course was the difference in your shape and size compared to the elegant group assembled for the evening.  You certainly weren’t as stately as Ms. Potts, nor as thin as Ms. Romanoff because she was trimmer in hip and bust.  Carol, stately and graceful, was a sheet of well hewed muscle.  All of them shone tonight, regal and lovely, while you wore your best black pants and white button down, the uniform of catering professionals world wide.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, temping your coffee pot, your mind churned.  There was no shaking the idea that even though you had been invited here, hired to be here, you were woefully out of place.  And just as your confidence was at its lowest, you heard it… or rather, him.

"Um… yes.  May I have… well… I don't know what to have.  Normally you have something special prepared."

Even over the din of chatter and softly played music you heard his baritone register.  A little flustered, disarmingly charming, Loki’s buttercream smile triggered your own.  Laughing, lifting a small tray towards Loki, "I am keeping it simple tonight.  These here are individual peach melba pies, topped with homemade whipped cream."

"And, what’s that?"  Looking like a little kid, ready to tear into a birthday present, Loki's face lit up with anticipation of what you might be hiding under the cover of a chafing dish.

"Mocha mini-cheesecakes, or-" Here you lifted the silver lid of your best party dish, "-my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies!  What would you like, Loki?"

Hearing his name in your lilting voice, Loki couldn't avoid the hot blush that rolled over him, turning his cheeks pink.  As if your delicious snacks weren't enticing enough, the way your shirt buttons could barely contain the bounty of your bosom made Loki's hunger real in a different way.  It was true that Thor had plied him with a great deal of Asgardian mead at the gala, even as the others drank up the less potent Midgardian spirits, all getting well past tipsy.

And maybe that's why he felt so bold, flirting with you casually, teasing you about your treats.  Also, he was shamelessly ogling your rounded ass in those tight black pants as you bent to retrieve a napkin.  Deep down, Loki longed to know if you tasted as sweet as your sugary confections.  Would you be slick like syrup?  Sticky like cinnamon buns?  Dark and delicious like chocolate fudge?

Shaking those long locks, which you couldn't help noticing were down and free tonight, Loki was struggling to decide among your snacks.  If his thoughts were lustful, your own weren't too far behind, because it was hard not to appreciate the fine figure in front of you.  At some point Loki had shucked his tuxedo jacket and the slim black bow tie that accompanied it.  Again his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows making him casual and cool, red cheeked and rambunctious.  Never had Loki seemed so at ease.

There was virtually no one else around, most of the remaining people were clustered by Clint at the piano singing show tunes, oblivious to you and Loki.  Looking from left to right, leaning in conspiratorially, "Ya know… I could let you have one of each, then you wouldn't have to decide."

Those dark brows arching, bright eyes smiling shrewdly, "You'd do that… for me?"

“That and more.”  It tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, your eyes widening in surprise at your own admission.

Leaning against your table, a lascivious smile on his face, “Do tell.”

And in the low light of the Avengers’ loft, with the soft smell of sugar filling the air, you felt yourself drawn to Loki’s aura.  Biting into your bottom lip, looking at him through your thick lashes, “Um… well… I could make you a little snack bag.  Ya know for later tonight…”

“Later tonight… I really like the sound of that.”  And to his unending surprise, Loki really did.  Maybe he’d find out about your favorite flavors in the dark of night, under the covers in his bed.  And if not, if he was somehow mistaken about your interest in him, then Loki would welcome some little cake that would make him think of you while he sat in his solitary room, brooding over you.

He shouldn’t have worried.  Genuinely smiling, Loki was beyond grateful to see the same look of desire reflected in your own face.  As you busied yourself packing up the little box of selected snacks for the sweet toothed stud, a voice called out, "Lokes!!  Get over here!!  Thor says you can dance and I need proof!"

Wavering slightly, Loki ducked his head in the direction of Sam Wilson's shout, not entirely eager to end your chat.  He was worried that somehow the sugar spun bubble you two were in would burst, and that, well that just couldn't happen.  Conspiratorially, invading your space across the narrow table, "I will be back.  Please, don't go away?"

Feeling like a movie heroine, you felt yourself nod, giggling a little at the spectacle of Loki's clear need.  In the glimmering low-lights, under the clink of champagne flutes and husky hum of conversations, Loki wanted to spend his time with you.  It was surreal and surprising, but you wanted him too.  There was no shame in that, right?

Glued to the spot, feet unmoving, Loki wouldn't leave until you said, "Go on, then.  Show me what you've got.  I'll be right here."

With a cocky grin, Loki loped toward the waiting circle of people and the makeshift dance floor.  Tinny, tinkling piano music was replaced by electronica, pumping through Tony's beyond state of the art sound system.  It felt like you were inside the speaker, thumping and bumping, in time with the dance hall beat.

What a sight!  You guessed it shouldn't have been so surprising, but seeing Loki, normally so reserved in your daily interactions, grinding and bouncing to the rhythm… it made you feel things.  Pulse pounding, deep sighing, clenching your muscles things.  Sexy things.

You could have stood there, enchanted from afar, for hours.  And you would have too, if Thor hadn't stumbled to your stand, nearly toppling the table with his unsteady bulk, "Oof!  A thousand apologies, my dear sweet bakery maiden."

Diverting your attention, you quickly stepped back into vendor mode, "No trouble!  No trouble at all!  What can I get for you?"

"Well, I have been wondering, what did my brother get a taste of that made him smile so wide?  It must have been a truly delicious nibble."  Thor, mimicking a mouse nibbling at cheese, was clearly past the point of sobriety.  

Turning thoughtful for a second, you realized Loki hadn't eaten anything of yours tonight… at least not yet.  So it had been your easy back and forth that made the frosty boy happy.  Smiling secretively,  suddenly supremely pleased, "Um… I have some special items this evening.  Would you like to try a peach pie?"

Blowing a raspberry, rolling his eyes, "Did Loki like it?"

"He hasn't tried it yet!  You'd be first!"  Trying to redirect the sloshed slab of man in front of you, offering the pastry up on a dainty napkin, it’s funny how quickly he snatches it from your hand.  Looking tiny in Thor's enormous paw, he devours it whole, swiping at the leftover crumbs on his chest.

"Delicious!  Another!"  Even shouting, Thor's voice doesn't crack through the party goers busting their moves. Sighing, you hand over another, only to watch it be gulped down without thought or consideration.

Spitting crust at you, Thor bows over the display you painstakingly built to showcase your wares, his weight making the table creak, "You know, my brother normally likes little women."

"Excuse me?"

Waving his hands, pontificating, "Small, shapely… you know the type!  Waifs.  Skinny, like him.  Narrow hips and-" attempting to whisper, "-tiny breasts."

Clearly, Thor was hammered, you knew that.  But what he was saying was just hard to hear.  You didn’t want to be compared to other women Loki had known, and you certainly didn’t want to hear that they were prettier, or smaller, or skinnier than you.  But your roller coaster ride of emotions was derailed when Thor slapped his hand on your table, making you jump.

"Now, you… you're a woman.  Strong, sturdy.  Could really ground him, you know?  Give him children worthy of Valhalla."

In his stupor, Thor couldn't read the warning in your expression.  Willing him to stop, shut up, go away with just your monosyllabic responses wasn't working.  But, alas, the Space God continued on, "It's all your sweets, you know?  Candy and cupcakes and… all those little… What do you call them?  The circles, fried and filled with jam?"

Flat, without feeling, "Donuts."

"Donuts!  Yes!"  Pausing for a breath, which you hoped would last all night long, Thor caught your eye.  "I approve.  Of the match… that is.  Loki has been alone too long.  He needs a thick woman to warm his bed, a fair, faithful filly to take-"

Thor's voice cut out, a thin line of shimmering red glowing around his throat, stopping his words.  You could still see his mouth moving but the sound was, thankfully, muted.  It was then that Wanda slunk close to Norse God, wide orb-like eyes full of knowledge, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Mumbling, struggling to sound bright as you gave too much attention to arranging cookies on the tray, "It's ok."

Her delicate hand rested on your own, "No it isn't.  Thor's a buffoon when he's downed too many bottles of mead.  I hope he didn't say anything too… unpleasant."

Waving her off, working hard to regain your composure, "Naw… it's fine… Thank you, though."

Thor, shrugging off Wanda's limited charm, "What's the big idea?  I was telling this lady that my brother likes her!  Her ample bosom, her gracious bum… and he always talks about her tasty cakes!"

Steve, sidling up at the first sign of trouble, grabbed Thor's arm, "Come on buddy.  Time for bed."

"But!  I am not tired!  I want more pie!  And mead!"

Wanda, rolling her eyes, "May I have another?  For the road?"

Quickly wrapping up a few of your crusty delicacies, you handed them over, now eager for the night to end.  It seemed tarnished somehow, spoiled by Thor's observations, like an unrisen souffle.  Glancing at the clock, you were amazed at the time!  It was late even for a late night event and you began packing up regardless of the people still partying their evening away.

You were hoping for a quick departure.  Seamless, silent, without distracting anyone, including a certain raven haired hottie.  No one would notice if you snuck away now, you were sure, and you had already fulfilled your obligation to Pepper.  In fact, with Thor's little outburst, you were well over your allotted time.  And, you reasoned, Loki could find some small little twig, more to his taste, if you weren't there to distract him.

That thought made your throat burn and your eyes water as you quietly broke down your area.  Even now you could see him, a head above everyone else, spinning with a smile on his face.  Loki looked so at ease, you refused to be the wet blanket on his good time.  Besides, flirting was one thing, but Loki wasn’t yours and you were old enough not to be crushed by a crush.

With one last, longing look over the assembled Avengers, you bumped your bottom into the exit door, shuffling toward the service elevator.  As the doors closed, shutting out the jubilation inside, you slumped against the wall.  How could you think Loki would want you?  

Having spent a significant amount of the late evening busting a move, Loki had managed to keep one eye on you most of that time.  Noticing Thor bumble your way, he was nervous about what his brother might say, but Natasha had challenged him to a dance off.  How could he resist?

By the time Loki stopped to catch his breath and collect his cookies, you were gone.  Vanished.  The only trace of you?  A small, golden box, stuffed with your divine delicacies.  Loki needn't see the name scrolled on the label to know it was for him.

But like Cinderella, you had fled and Loki had no way to find you.  Sinking his heart, Loki clutched the box, padding away to his room and the solitude of silence.  At least he had your thoughtful gift of goodies to keep him company.  It was almost enough.  Almost.

For all the numerous things The Avengers were good at, it was a non-hero who observed Loki slide away, sad and silent.  Never one to let a party end on a low note, a new plan was formed to unite the Trickster and the Treat Maker.  But it would need time to rise, like decadent cinnamon rolls, and like those sticky sweet buns, would be totally worth the wait.

When Monday dawned, you loaded up your goods and trudged to work.  For the first time since starting your business venture your heart wasn't in it.  Not when you plated blueberry buckle with lavender scented whipped cream, not when you swirled almond milk into fresh brewed coffee, not when you bagged cheesy bagel bites.

And it was, apparently, to be a day of firsts.  Because this was the only day that Loki failed to make an appearance at your stand since you’d opened.  Thor, pushing people aside, had made a point of apologizing for his behavior.  It was kind and honest, yet, hollow since it didn't make Loki materialize in your line.  But you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Before long, the day was done, your cleaning ritual initiated, your mind wandering.  That it circled back to a certain blue eyed mischief maker over and over wasn't shocking.  Where had Loki been?  Had you driven him off?  Would he come back tomorrow?  

"Ahem… Excuse me!"

Squealing, you dropped the tray you'd been wiping with a clanking clatter, "Miss Potts!  You startled me!"

"I didn't mean to!", stooping to hand you back your platter, she lifted her smart eyes to yours.

"I know… I'm so sorry!  I've been… a little off today."

Shrewd, searching, Pepper looked you over, "You're not the only one."

Laughing nervously, “Oh?  Who else is having a tough Monday?”

“A friend… listen, I wanted to thank you for the other night. It was really wonderful having your exceptional snacks at the ready.”

Allowing yourself a small smile, nibbling your lip nervously, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Pepper, shifting on her high heels, “I’d like to hire you again.”

“Really?”  Snapping your head up at the offer, you were a little surprised by her request.  Even though that night hadn’t ended the way you had hoped, necking with Loki like a teenager after prom, it had still been a lucrative evening for your little start up company.  But so soon?

“Yes! This is a smaller event.  Actually, more of a date than anything.  This Friday evening.  Would you be free?”

Grabbing your phone, confirming the date on your calendar, “It works for me!  What time were you thinking?”

Blinking, Pepper took a minute to contemplate before answering, “Let’s say seven.  Upstairs, on the outdoor deck?”

“That sounds great, Ms. Potts!  How many people are you expecting?”, making notes, head down you missed her gentle smile.

“Just two.”

That made you giggle.  So, it was a night of romance with Tony she was after.  Flashing your benefactor a knowing smirk, “Sounds lovely.”

“I hope it will be!”

You didn’t see Loki all week.  There was rumor going around the tower that he was off on a mission somewhere, very hush, hush.  Your limited intell was gained only because of Thor’s inability to lower his booming voice while waiting for a croissant on Tuesday morning.

It got easier.  Not seeing him in your daily line, not giving him his cappuccino, not buttering his scone.  By Friday you finally felt like Loki was out of your system, which was a good thing, because you knew Ms. Potts was expecting you to knock it out of the park tonight.

“Things are going to be a little different for this evening, if that’s ok.  I thought you could set out your dessert courses here, on the counter, and we’d have someone bring them out to the patio area.”

Unafraid to go the extra mile, you were quick to volunteer, “I’d be more than happy to act as a server if-”

Talking over you, “Oh no, dear!  I have someone for that already.  Really, all you have to do is make sure your treats are in order.”

Slightly crestfallen, but always a good sport, you agreed.  As she’d requested, you had prepared three special desserts for the night, hoping you covered all of Tony’s favorite flavors.  First, lemon cake with a cracked sugar glaze and fresh raspberry sauce to garnish.  Next would be the white chocolate cheesecake studded with plump blueberries and piles of fresh vanilla flavored whipped cream.  Last, and perhaps most importantly, was your personal favorite, tiramisu.  Simple, delicious, and perfect with a strong cup of espresso.

Clapping her hands, Pepper was so pleased at the thought you had put into each plate, “Wow, does this look amazing!  There’s really only one other thing that we need for this.”  

Wiping a stray stripe of sauce from the plate, a piping bag cupped in your hands, you lifted your head, “What’s that Ms. Potts?”

“Why, you of course.”

Stalling in midair, you slowly lowered the tool of your trade, wiping your sugary fingers on the seat of your jeans.  “I’m right here!  What can I do to help?”

Coming around the island now, Pepper drew close enough to take your hands in her own, “You’ve already done it.  Tonight is my way of saying ‘Thank You’... and I hope you’ll accept a small gift as a token of my appreciation.”

As the last word hung in the air between you, the lift doors parted, and Loki stepped into the room.  

Pepper had summoned him, asking only that he arrive on time and not “look a mess”.  Since Loki had never been anything less than elegant in all things, he had no intention of breaking that streak this evening.  If only he knew what to dress for?

So, he split the difference, going for casual cool.  A jet black polo shirt, unbuttoned, clung to him like a second skin, caressing every muscle.  Black trousers and a black belt made him look dangerously seductive as he sauntered closer with each step.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him.  Missing Loki all week made seeing him like this stupefying.  Fuzzy brained and dull minded, you weren’t capable of wrapping your head around what was happening.

“Pepper?  What… what is all this?”  Loki’s husky baritone questioned the set up, your presence, the pretense.  At least you weren't the only one who was confused.

Pulling you along, Pepper maneuvered you next to him, “Loki, It’s all arranged.  Dessert by candlelight, under the stars… FRIDAY, start my Date Night playlist.”  The strains of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins filled the air.

It was right then that Loki got it.  The strange summons, the dress code, the secrecy.  He knew why you were here, with your bespoke baked goods, looking like a snack yourself.  Pepper had listened when Loki recommended you for the first gig, and somehow she had heard the unspoken recommendation of his heart.  A rush of feeling flowed over him at the idea.  

Looking sheepish and flustered, Loki caught your eye, “Hello.”

“Hi…”, bashful yourself, you struggled not to look too giddy.

“See, you’re already on your way.  Have a good night kids!”  

You and Loki stood there, staring, until the click of Pepper’s heels on the marble had faded away.  This is  awkward, you thought, unsure of what to do next.  Here with the man you wanted, you weren’t entirely sure what to do, but luckily for you, Loki knew how to take charge, “Shall we?”

Lacing his fingers with yours, Loki led you to the open deck where a small bistro table was waiting, already set for the two of you.  Pulling out your chair, Loki made sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat at your side, as opposed to across the table.  It was a cozy and romantic scene.

The song shifted.  Now The Platters crooned, “Only You”, and your hand was itching to grab Loki’s under the table.  Before you could, Pepper’s hired server for the evening brought your first plate, and a bottle of Prosecco.  

So far, neither of you had really spoken.  Words seemed too difficult to use when the situation was so formal.  And yet, it really was lovely of Ms. Potts to do this for you… and for Loki.

“Did you make all of this?”

Picking up your fork, giving Loki a small nod, “Yea… I thought Pepper was planning a date night with Tony.  I had no idea that this… any of this… was happening.  Did you?”

“No.  But, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.  She did hire you because of me.”

Taken aback by his admission, “Really?  Care to elaborate?”

Tucking into the lemony piece of heaven in front of him, Loki closed his eyes in bliss, “Hmm… that is delicious.  You are really so good at this!  And that, my purveyor of pound cake, is what I told Ms. Potts.”      

“Well, thank you!  I mean, I knew you liked me!”  

Hotter than opening your oven, a blast of heat swept over you, reddening your cheeks in shock.  Flustered now, you could barely speak, cursing yourself for letting your real feelings slip out like that unfiltered.  Mortified, you grabbed your glass, slugging half of it down in a second.

Loki’s fork froze, almost to his lips, as his own eyes widened.  Sighing, he placed the utensil, covered in lemon and raspberry deliciousness down gently.  Feeling his scorching gaze, you sat stock still, Loki’s wry whisper reaching you, “I do.  And I should have told you that before… before Pepper had to go to such great lengths to prove it.”

“But Loki… I’m just… I’m not…”  Stammering, you couldn’t quite find the best way to explain the reservations you had been carrying, the reasons Thor had so clearly defined.

“You are though.  You are so kind hearted… to everyone.  Even the dullards and bores.  I hear you, you know?  What you say, how you say it.  No one leaves your little station without being complimented, enlightened, enriched.  It is the best part of my day, coming down to see you… and taste whatever marzipan masterpiece you’ve graced us with.”

Starting to feel the bubbles of Prosecco in your brain, your lopsided smile spread at the emotion Loki expressed, “Loki… it’s the only thing that gets me through sometimes.  Seeing you, knowing that you’re in line.  And how cute you are when you spell out your name, like I haven’t written it a hundred times before.”

It was his turn to blush, “I knew that.  I knew it was adorable.”

Playfully pushing against his shoulder, you chuckled, “Loki!  That’s not fair!”

“Then you won’t like this, darling.”  

Catching your arms in his firm hands, Loki tucked your body into his, finding your mouth as you laughed at his antics.  Using his top lip to trap your own, Loki’s bottom lip gently parted, as the softness of his kiss blended into the lemon scented sweetness of his sigh.  His tongue, probing slowly, pressed between your lips stealing a shaky breath for Loki to treasure.

Rising, Loki’s hands cradled your cheeks, ensuring that you couldn’t break away from his kiss.  As if you wanted to!  Your own hands wandered, with one resting on the warm slope of his wide thigh and the other pressed against Loki’s broad chest.

Deepening the kiss, you pushed forward, nestling between Loki’s spread legs.  Trailing a hand along his hip, scooting closer, you moaned at the luscious texture of his tongue on your own.  When Loki pulled back, you followed, unwilling to break the beautiful bond your mouths had sealed.

Swallowing hard, unable to believe that he was really here with the flavor of your candy kisses filling his senses, Loki shook his head.  Seeing your own dazed expression made his heart soar.  He was going to have to write Pepper a thank you note or have you bake her a cake, because this was the best thing that had ever happened to the Prince of Asgard.

“Are you ready for the next course?”  The server, having popped out of the compound, was struggling to hide his own smug smile at the sexy little show you two had put on.

A new song started, the notes drifting through the air, making you smile.  Sam Cooke’s eternally youthful voice sang, “Cupid… draw back your bow…” and Loki slowly stood.  “Uh, please, hold the next one, if you don’t mind.”

Coming around behind you, offering you his hand, “Loki?  What are you doing?”

“What I should have done last week… Ask you to dance…?”   Voice brimming with hope, Loki quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your acceptance.

“About time.”  

Rumbling through Loki’s solid torso, his laugh greeted you as you fell into his arms easily, chuckling yourself.  It was so familiar and yet so different.  His hands rested over the curve of your back, pulling you tighter, controlling the sway of your hips.  Circling the delicate strength of his neck, your fingers teasing into those long locks of tousled hair, you let Loki take the lead.  

Tipping you back, over balancing you but still in control, Loki’s look was pure lust, “I apologize for running late.  I should have-”

Cutting in, husking into the shell of Loki’s ear, “Don’t.  We’re here now.  And besides, you were worth the wait.”

Squeezing you, putting every ounce of feeling into his hug, Loki found it hard to loosen his grip.  Now that he had the thing he wanted, he never wanted to be separated from it… you… ever again.  

Twirling you out, tugging you back in, as the song came to its close, Loki took the opportunity of dipping you low enough for your head to graze the ground below.  Breathless and giddy, you were lifted back to standing, clinging to the demi God before you.  Parting your lips, anticipating another of Loki’s kisses, your eyes fluttering closed, “Sir?  Madame?”  

Shifting his focus from your glossy, eager mouth to the server once more, Loki’s own giggle shining in his face, “My good man, please… just pack it all up!  We’re not staying.”

“We’re not?”  A hint of surprise colored your tone as you took in the ecstatic look on Loki’s face.

Nodding at you, “Nope.”

Waiting only a moment or two for a bag stuffed full of your goodies, Loki slung it over this wrist before taking your hand and leading you through the Tower’s maze of floors.  Of course, he stopped at almost every corner to sneak a peck, pat your tush or cage you against the wall so that his hips were flush against your own as he licked the soft spot under your ear.

“Hmmm… Loki… That feels so good.”  Mewling softly, your nails scratching into his scalp, as he swung open the door to his room.

Ushering you inside, Loki paused only to set his blistering, needy eyes on you once more, “We are not children, you and I.  If you want to wait, I will be patient… but, believe me, my darling little patisserie, when I say this:  I want you.  I want to devour you… I want to know if you’re as sweet as strawberry shortcake or tart like key lime pie.

“I need to see if you-” here he swallowed so hard his Adam’s Apple bobbed, “-sigh when I kiss you the same way you do when you slide a hot cup of tea over the counter.  Or how you’ll sound when you call my name in ecstasy.  Because I’ve already thought about these things a hundred times over.  While I wait in line for a moment of your attention or when I taste those lovely delicacies, you fill my thoughts.

“Do you always smell of vanilla and butter, I wonder.  Will my sheets be scented with marshmallow and marzipan?  Almond and cherry?”

Advancing on you now, hunger heating his look, “But just know, little one, if you do come to my bed, I will make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever need.”

Stepping closer, baiting the bear in him, you bit into your bottom lip, “Are you saying that everyone will know I belong to you… L, O, K, I… Loki?”

“My sweet, sweet thing.  That is exactly what I mean.”

In a flurry of movement, Loki swept you against his kitchen table, the wood strong and sturdy behind you.  Kisses, hot and happy melted you like butter, as Loki spread your legs to stand between them.  When you heard the sound of paper crumpling, “What’s that?”

“Oh!  Our to-go bag!  Your luscious desserts!”  Sounding slightly panicked, Loki quickly removed the items from inside the bag, before turning to you with a look that said trouble.

“What?  What’s that face?”  

“I’ve told you how much I fancy your food… and now you know how much I adore you... “

“Uh huh…”, still unsure about where this was going, your eyes followed Loki as he pulled your tub of whipped cream from the ruined sack.  Snapping off the lid, his long finger scooping out a big glob, only for Loki to brush the airy confection over your mouth.  

Licking the cream from your lips, Loki tongued the seam of your pretty pout, moaning at the burst of vanilla he tasted there, “I don’t know what’s more delicious, your frothy garnish or this mouth.”

“What if I want some, huh?”  Grabbing at Loki’s finger, the one he’d used to snag the sample with, you pulled it into the warm inlet of your mouth, sucking lightly.

Growling low in his throat at the erotic scene before him, Loki issued a command, “Bedroom.  Now.”

Sliding off the table, right into Loki’s space, “Bring the whipped cream though, ok?”

Clothes were shed in a rush.  Each piece unveiling soft skin and new places to explore, reminding you of a creme brulee’s hardened caramel layer.  The way you crack it open, revealing the cool custard beneath the scorched sugar crust, a gift unwrapped for all your senses.

By the time Loki lowered you onto his bed, he had already sampled swatches of your skin, leaving behind the marks of his possession.  His hands never seemed to stop.  First they were dusting over your shoulders, then across your thighs, next on your generous bottom, squeezing hard.

Sighing in contentment, you closed your eyes, lost in the moment of making love to Loki.  As he lay down over you, the press of his rigid planes met the soft curves of your figure, you wrapped yourself around him.  Tangling those rich, dark locks in your hand, forcing your mouths together, panting with shared passion.

Connecting with his hip, you slid your palm over the rise of his bottom, squeezing just a little, “You know, you have a great ass, right?”

Sucking against the ridge of your clavicle, Loki kissed over your jaw, “I do?”

“Oh yea… I watch you walk away everyday thinking, damn.  That ass.”

Brushing stray strands from your face, “That’s funny, because I think the same thing every time you bend over to get those little swizzle sticks for stirring coffee!”

Setting off a fit of giggles, the pair of you with arms and legs akimbo, laughed like children.  There was something so freeing about being naked and comfortable with the man beside you.  Quieting only when you heard the pop of the frosting bowl's lid coming off, you sucked in a breath as Loki lowered his lips to your waiting nipple.  

Playful and pleasing, he released you just long enough to sit back on his heels, surveying the state of you.  "Now, It's my turn."

"Your turn to what, exactly?"

"Decorate!"  Producing an assortment of sprinkles and frosting, sanding sugars and coconut shreds, caramel sauce and raspberry coulis as if from thin air, Loki grinned at you wickedly before setting to work.

For every place that was home to a dollop of icing or a squirt of sauce you were licked, nibbled, nuzzled or bitten.  As Loki worked lower, you squirmed in anticipation, as your pastry chef in training sucked your inner thigh free of chocolate fudge.  Before you could prepare, Loki's tongue parted your slippery center, making you call out, "Oh!  Yes, Loki!"

Parting your swollen sex, circling your stiffened bud, Loki lapped at your sensitive skin gently.  His fingers, long and reaching, stroked into your sticky channel, stretching you sweetly.  Rocking against Loki's oral affections, the beginning of bliss burning in your belly, you gripped him tightly seeking release.  

For his part, Loki needed no encouragement.  Bringing you to the pinnacle, alternately sipping at your slick core, and sucking on your sweet pearl was making Loki ache with want.  Even when you pulled at his onyx locks, inner thighs trembling, struggling to stave off your peaking pleasure, Loki only worked harder, "Don't hold back.  We've already wasted too much time!"

"Uh huh… um… shit… Loki…"  mumbling was the most you could do as you felt a third finger enter you, widening you, readying you.  It was enough.  Cumming hard against him, stiffening and then softening like taffy, you gave yourself over to the pleasure Loki provided.  

Smacking his lips lewdly, licking his fingers, "I knew it… I knew you'd be delectable."

Grinning broadly, happy and satisfied, "Am I gonna get a taste?  You're not the only one with a sweet tooth, ya know!"

"Only when I've had my fill… and I'm not close to being finished, darling!"

Sticky, sweet and satiated, you and Loki lay in each other's arms smiling.  He'd asked about a gift for Pepper and you were already planning a cupcake basket for your matchmaking mentor.  You had just licked the last of your lemon curd from his abs, curling into his side, "I need a shower."

"Oh, yes!  Let's do that!"  Rising, dragging you with him, Loki could picture you under the steaming water, begging him to please you.  He liked that idea!

"And after…"

Pausing to look at you, "After?"

"Can you find me something salty to snack on… ya know, for a change?"

Pressing a kiss to your hand, Loki flashed you that megawatt smile, "Absolutely, darling.  Absolutely."

~~

My Minxes:  @alexakeyloveloki​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @iamverity​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @wolfsmom1​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @mizfit2​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @jessiejunebug​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @capcapcapsicle​ @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​ @thenatilie @sammy-jo1977​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ 

[melancholic-pigeon]

Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?

SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.

Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.

Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side. 

I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.

love you to the moon and back.

-J. ❤

Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.

(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)

Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity. 

Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade. 

He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.

It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.

"My other half says hello."

There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.

"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?" 

Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated. 

"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you." 

She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is. 

"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope." 

"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated." 

"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"

Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression, 

"He really does, doesn't he?"

Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself. 

His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.

"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."

He knows that feeling too. 

Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there. 

"You too, Mama." 

She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.

She's smiling, too. 

She smiles a lot, these days.

—

In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding. 

Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands. 

"Decorative. Sure." 

"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked." 

"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."

"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."

"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD." 

"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?" 

"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah." 

Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling. 

Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen. 

"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.

"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy." 

Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question. 

Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose. 

"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."

She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it. 

"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?" 

"See!"

"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."

His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties. 

"I know exactly where I'm going to put it." 

Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study. 

There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins. 

"I'll hang it up for you later."

She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.

Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.

It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.

It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.

"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."

"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.

"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."

"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.

"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit." 

"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen. 

It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.

Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading. 

"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers. 

"He's always welcome for a rain check."

"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling. 

Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time. 

"More bird!"

"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."

They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.

Percy's eyes sting. 

For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead. 

She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place. 

He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response. 

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them. 

"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey." 

Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all. 

When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it. 

Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.

"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything." 

"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.

It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive. 

-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words

[blu-joons]

You Feel Insecure About Your Weight ~ Kim Seokjin

The fresh smell of baking greeted you as you walked into the flat, the light jazz tones Jin often listened to came from the kitchen, as you followed the sounds where he stood, leaning over the oven, shrieking in delight at the site of whatever it was he was baking.

“This is the third time this week I’ve come home to find you baking,” you spoke, dropping your bag, draping your coat over the back of a chair. He smiled, pointing to the recipe book he was using, blueberry muffins were his project today.

Twice this week you’d come home to bakes, one lemon sponge, and some chocolate chip cookies, perfectly crafted with a smile on his face, he was desperate to find some new recipes to add to his collection, and you were the lucky one who got to try them all.

“Now, I know you’ve probably had a hard day, so hopefully you can find comfort in some sweet blueberry muffins, the perfect cure to even the worst days,” he smiled.

“I’m going to be a walking cake soon, maybe you need to start taking some to the boys.”

Whilst you appreciated him choosing to try out his bakes on you, you were finding it hard to consume so much sweet stuff. You weren’t skinny, the two of you knew that, but as he continued to serve up delights, you couldn’t help but worry about the effects this would have on your body.

He walked behind you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, massaging his hands along your shoulders, making you giggle, glancing up at him.

“I think you should save those muffins for the boys tomorrow; you need the energy more than I do, and they love tasting your cakes,” you tried to convince him.

He turned to look at you, furrowing his brows. “What makes you say that? You normally snap at the chance to try my baking, what’s changed?”

“I’m just not that hungry,” you lied, but he knew you all too well, his stare was on you, refusing to turn away until you finally admitted to him the truth. “If I’m honest, I’m worried about all the weight I’m probably putting on eating all of this, it’s just too much for me.”

He sighed, dragging one of the chairs from the table across so that he was sat in front of you, his hands took both of yours, squeezing them until you looked across at him.

The hurt in your eyes was clear, breaking his own heart. You weren’t skinny by any stretch, but that didn’t make Jin love you any less, he loved your figure, it never defined you, as long as you were happy with who you were, he was always going to love you.

“Listen to me closely, it doesn’t bother me, and it certainly shouldn’t bother you if you gain a bit of weight, in my eyes you’ll still look beautiful, that’s all that should matter.”

“But I’m big enough as it is,” you argued, staring down at your tummy, “I wish I had a flat tummy; I can only dream of being able to raise my arms without seeing any chub.”

His hands let go of yours, running all the way along your arms, snaking back down so they rested on your waist. “Every part of you is perfect as it is, you’re happy in your own skin, right?”

You nodded, biting at your bottom lip to fend off threatening tears, you hated getting upset over something so small, especially in front of Jin. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I want that to change. I love that you love to cook and bake, but I’m scared that it will change me.”

His head shook, his eyes studied your body from the very top, to the very bottom, there was no part of it that he didn’t like. You loved your food, and he loved to cook for you, but he never did it with the intention to make you insecure.

“It’s not going to change you, for all the bad things I cook and bake, I make you good things too, that’s why you don’t change, it’s all about balance.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course. When I look at you I just smile, you’re beautiful, but I love you for the person you are too, an odd weight gain, or a loss too, would never bother me, it won’t change that gorgeous smile and your incredible personality.”

His left hand came up, cupping the side of your cheek, “I don’t want people to hate me for being with you Jin, it scares me because I’m not the idea of perfect.”

“You’re perfect to me, surely that’s all that matters,” he challenged.

You nodded lightly, leaning in towards him, your forehead rested against his. He chuckled, pecking a kiss to your lips, reassuring every word he spoke. It never mattered to him what others thought, he was happy, and everyone that mattered was happy for the two of you too.

The smell of his bake continued to fill the room, bringing a smile to your face. “So, how many muffins did you manage to make today?”

“Twenty, and a small one of loose batter,” he informed you, “I can take a few for the boys, but I was thinking we could eat a couple after dinner tonight with a movie.”

“That sounds really nice, what do you want us to cook?”

He had the perfect recipe in mind, one that would ease your insecurities. “I was thinking casserole, if we’re having muffins then we could eat a hearty vegetable main.”

You nodded, pecking his lips. He always knew how to make you feel better, he had the perfect way to make you feel better and allow you to eat happily without feeling nervous or living in fear of the bad outweighing the good.

“Now, those muffins are ready to be taken out in five minutes, so what do you say to having one now with a nice cup of coffee, and you tell those demons you’re allowed a treat from time to time..”

“I guess a little treat will do no harm,” you blushed, watching as he stood up, putting the kettle on for the two of you. “I’ll do that, you take care of the muffins.”

You made two cups of coffee, just in time for the timer he had set on the oven went off. He grabbed the oven gloves whilst you sat back to the table, watching with a wide smile as the two muffin trays came out, baked to absolute perfection.

“Another successful effort by Kim Seokjin!” He cheered, placing them all on a cooling tray. “I hope you’re ready to taste this, you’ll never taste anything as good as this.”

“You’re talking a big game, and I’ve got high expectations, that lemon cake was pretty incredible the other day,” you teased.

He chuckled, plating two up, putting them between the two of you. “Trust me, this is the best one yet, I don’t think I want to share with the boys after all.”

“Jin, I’ve told you to stop feeding me so much, you can’t do this to me.”

“Stop that, you’re beautiful now, eat and enjoy!”

---

Masterlist

[starkerforlife6969]

What if peter was like a pack omega, not necessarily in a relationship with the whole pack, but he calms everyone down and cooks and cuddles all the avengers who just adore and dote on him.

TW: a/o dynamics, housewife Peter

Tony doesn’t quite know how it happened. Natasha and Clint went off on some super secret spy gig that Fury won’t tell him anything about. Wanda and Vision are off travelling the world, and then all of a sudden the tower has become a bit of a boy’s club.

It’s just him, Steve, Bucky and Thor.

It was kinda fun, at first. Like being in a fraternity back in college. Of course, he’d been quite young when he was a freshman, so the drinking and partying had been…not absent, but definitely the shadier side of legal.

Now, the four of them eat pizza and train and go and save the world when they have to. Tony tinkers in his lab, Steve and Bucky play the never-ending game of catch up, and Thor imbues himself in earth-culture.

But still, they’re four alphas. And sometimes they’re training gets a little rough, and sometimes they snarl at each other and get wound up.

After a particularly bad day, Steve wades through the trash all over the living room. He kicks aside grease-stained thai-take out boxes and empty wrappers- nearly trips on Thor’s hammer- before reaching Tony.

Tony arches an eyebrow at him, and takes a long sip of his black coffee.

“This place is becoming a real state.” Steve says meaningfully and Tony laughs.

“I hope you’re not suggesting I clean it. I opened up my home to you rascals-“

“Don’t you have a cleaner?” Steve grumbles, rubbing at a smudge on the countertop with his thumb.

“I did. Lovely woman. But you’re not gonna find a beta willing to live with four Alphas, Steve. And we do need a live in. I’m pretty sure Thor ate raw chicken the other day.”

“Why not an Omega, then?” Steve asks, and Tony hums thoughtfully.

It’s not a bad idea. Omegas are a pricy investment, because they’re so rare, but they handle Alphas beautifully. They cook and clean and soothe. Tony thinks they could all do with a little soothing. There’s a hell of a lot of Alpha pheromones everywhere, and it’s making him antsy. It’s tough to concentrate in the lab, and only he goes in there.

“I’ll look into it.” He promises, and Steve nods: satisfied, before wading back through the trash.

*

When Bucky gets back from his run in the late afternoon- he freezes.

The penthouse is sparkling. The balcony doors are open and the cool summer breeze is rolling in. There are- new cushions everywhere- and a vase almost bursting with fresh flowers on the coffee table. Everything’s polished and clean, and smells of freshly baked cookies. There’s another smell. Something sweeter than the cookies, more fragrant than the flowers. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“What the hell…” he whispers. Did someone finally clean up? He can’t imagine who. And who would go and pick flowers?

“You must be Bucky!” Comes a delighted voice, and Bucky turns to see- probably the most gorgeous Omega he’s ever seen in his life. He’s a tiny little slip of a thing, with huge eyes and fluffy hair and a blue sweater. He’s barefoot too, and there’s flour on his cheek.

“Uh…” he says unintelligibly, following the Omega towards the kitchen.

“I like your metal arm! I’m making cookies, would you like yours warm straight from the oven?”

Bucky takes a seat at the kitchen counter and blinks in surprise when he can see his own face reflected in the marble. “Sure,” he stammers, and then before he knows it, a plate heaped full of warm cookies and a glass of cold milk are being presented on a flowery tray.

“I’m Peter,” the omega says, and his eyes are like sunlight mixed with amber. He’s got skin like fresh cream and lips so pink Bucky wants to reach out and touch-

Instead, he crams a few cookies into his mouth and groans. Goddamn, they’re delicious.

Peter beams at him with glee. “You like them? I’m so glad! Tony said that he didn’t know if you preferred chocolate chip or blueberry, but I went with chocolate, because everyone loves chocolate! I’m gonna make steak with quinoa tonight, do you like that? I also bought some pastry for apple pie for dessert- that’s Steve’s favourite right? That’s what he said- but I’d already bought it, so maybe he was just being polite and-“

“Ah, Bucky,” Tony waltzes in, chuckling, ad Bucky blinks at the sight of him. He looks remarkably better than yesterday. The dark circles under his eyes are gone, his beard’s groomed and hair brushed, and he’s in new clothes that smell of laundry detergent. “I see you’ve met Peter, quite the little angel, isn’t he?”

Peter blushes, and it’s possibly the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. “Did you have a good nap?” Peter asks, plating up some cookies and milk for Tony.

“None for me thanks, gorgeo-“ he cuts off, and Bucky watches as Peter pouts; his eyes huge and disappointed, hands still holding out the plate and glass as offering.

Bucky thinks he’d lay down his life for those eyes.

“Fine,” Tony grumbles, taking a cookie. He snorts at Peter’s happy smile. “You’re gonna make me put on a couple of pounds, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna make sure you get all the nutrients you need.” Peter corrects, and Bucky drains his milk to ask:

“Are you Tony’a new Omega?”

Tony answers for him. “Gorgeous, isn’t he? Super expensive, but definitely worth it. He’s for all of us, and have you seen the place? He’s folded the towels into little swans-“

“You bought him for all of us?” Bucky gapes, and Tony’s eyes soften a little.

“Well, yeah. We all live here, we could all use a little love. And look at him,” Tony squeezes the nape of Peter’s neck and the Omega lets out the most melodic little moan. “Help yourself, ask him for anything- Peter’s happy. He has his own bedroom- near mine, obviously, but I doubt he’ll spend the nights there, right, gorgeous?”

Peter blushes again, and subtly nudges another cookie towards Tony.

Bucky thinks it would probably be impolite to ask Peter to bend over the counter right now, so he saves it for later.

* After two weeks with Peter, everything is perfect.

The penthouse has never looked better, Tony’s never felt so well-rested, so well-fed. The fresh vegetables and new recipes- each more exotic than the last- have left him feeling stronger. Healthier.

Peter’s gotten Steve into Yoga, and more often than not, Tony will wake up to see the two of them out on the balcony under the New York sun, stretched out on yoga mats.

He likes to appreciate the view for a moment.

Before Peter makes them all a big breakfast. Smoothies for all of them and Tony gets pancakes, Thor gets a full english, Steve gets a fruit salad and Bucky gets waffles, all of them on rotation.

Peter spends a lot of time out and about with Thor. The god can hoist Peter onto his shoulders and is clearly completely smitten with the tiny omega. He keeps regaling him with Asgardian fairytales and giving him little gold trinkets.

Bucky gets deep tissue massages- he likes the way Peter’s fingers work into all of his muscle. Often Tony will see Bucky lying on the couch chest-down, with Peter straddling his thighs and working onto all that scarred tissue.

Everything’s just better.

And then of course, when Peter was cleaning up and he’d moved Thor’s hammer- picking it up for a moment, dusting underneath it- then setting back down, humming sweetly all the while, and the four alphas had just stared in absolute amazement. 

Tony likes buying Peter silks and satins. Or sparkly diamonds that Peter wears around the house. Steve gives Peter his sketches- leaves them lying around the house for Peter to find as he’s cleaning, and the little omega lets out a pleased sound of delight every time. 

It’s just better. Effortless. 

Tony stirs (his sleeping pattern is so much better now) when he feels his mattress dip, and he smiles lazily with pleasant surprise, as he tugs Peter into his chest.

“Mm, haven’t seen you for a few days, gorgeous.”

“Thor had a lot of pent up stress,” Peter mewls, one soft hand already sliding into Tony’s pants. Peter is a selfless lover, as all omega are, he peppers Tony’s face with kisses, whispers praise, and teases him just the right amount.

“I want you to knot me, please, alpha,” Peter whispers sweetly into his ear, already moving- he does all the work, Tony doesn’t have to lift a finger- and he’s already slick, and he manoeuvres Tony’s throbbing cock to his hole easily. “Do you want that?”

“Fuck, yeah, baby,” Tony grunts, eyes still lidded. “Make me feel good.”

Peter moans like it’s his pleasure, and gets to work.

[simsadventures]

Better Like This: Chapter 3: Tactics

Chapter Summary: You try to get closer to Bucky via his friends. What happens when your plan works out all too well?

Warnings: jealous Bucky (maybe, what do I know), a/b/o dynamics, Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, swearing, Sam being a smart-ass, slow-burn fic, fist fight, blood, hurt Omega

Word Count: 3229

A/N: Once again, thank you so much for the feedback on the previous chapter, you guys are amazing. This story is kinda slow-burn, so I hope all of you are ok with that. Again, if you would like to see this story take a certain direction, let me know and I’ll see what I can do with it xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

It’s been almost two weeks since your first day at the unit. After trying a few more times to actually get Bucky to talk to you (unsuccessfully, of course, his growling would get the room quiet every time) you decided to ease off. You weren’t about to give up on your true mate. Not even close. His scent was intoxicating, and you loved spending your time in the office just so you could catch some lingering smell left after him. 

You decided to give him space and to let him come to you when he would feel like it. And you knew he would eventually have to feel like it, he couldn’t be immune, for christ’s sake. 

Meanwhile, you tried to get to know the team better. You and Scott became almost inseparable during those days, you’d spent a few nights at his house, dining there and getting to know Hope. She was the most intelligent person you’ve probably ever met and her beauty? Wow! You would always tell Scott how lucky he was to get a mate like her. He knew it, of course, but his ego grew whenever people saw his amazing mate by his side, always looking up to him proudly and lovingly. 

You even went for a beer with Tony, Bruce, and Natasha, having one hell of a good time. Tony and Bruce were so cute, you thought your teeth might rot from all the fluff around you. You were happy for them; definitely, it was just that you wanted what they had, and were kinda jealous. But only a little bit. 

You loved to bake and so every time you baked some cookies or muffins, you brought them to work, to make your colleagues happy and giddy like little kids. The first time you brought something with you, they all hugged you so tightly and pronounced love so loudly that you could just laugh and with the same breath promise them that you’d bake more. 

The only reserved people were Bucky, Sam, and your Captain. You knew they were all friends and shit, but you couldn’t understand why they didn’t talk to you when it wasn’t necessary. You got that Steve was your captain and that you probably shouldn’t be too familiar with him, but Sam? That was another story. And you had plans for that also. 

The case you were working on went cold after about a week, as there were no new leads, no witnesses and worst of all, the victim died during a surgery. You were still trying to figure some stuff out, but without sufficient evidence, there wasn’t much you could do. 

You were sitting at your table, discussing possible motives for the Omega’s murder with Scott, your baked goods on the table with only a few chocolate chip cookies left. You could see Sam entering the door, without Bucky, and you took your chance. 

You stood up quickly, grabbed the plate and marched towards Sam, with something as a piece offering cookies. “Hey, I saved you some, I didn’t know if you liked chocolate chips, but I took my chance. I swear I’m not trying to poison you, Sam,” you giggled and stretched your hand with the plate on it towards Sam. He smirked and shook his head but took one cookie nevertheless. Win! “Well, I must try some, Stark wouldn’t shut up about your blueberry muffin, so I guess you’re real good at this, huh?” And he is making small talk, you thought, yes! 

“They almost tore my arm from my body just to get to those muffins quicker, they are monsters, I’m telling you.” 

Sam laughed a little and then moaned. Kinda. “Oh my God, Y/L/N, these are perfect, I mean, they taste like heaven! What the… I’m one of the monsters now! You got me addicted!” 

“Uhm, thank you, I guess,” you giggled at the look in front of you. Sam was stuffing his mouth with your cookies with one hand, while the other was trying to pick as many crumbs, he could reach, to have a little more taste. 

“So chocolate chip ok with you, Wilson?” “Hell, anything’s good with me as long as it comes from those heavenly hands. And by the way, who doesn’t like chocolate chip, huh?” You’d laugh with him, but a vicious growl stopped you.

“Me,” Bucky said, chest heaving, jaw set and eyes almost glowing. With anger? Who knew, but you weren’t about to speak up, he looked like he’d kill you if you even took a breath. You didn’t know if Sam was oblivious to his partner’s posture and look, or if he actually wanted to sport a black eye, but he didn’t shut up.

“C’mon, Buck. If you tried Y/N’s cookies, you would’ ve-“ he was interrupted by another low growl. “I don’t need to try anything to see that it just doesn’t suit me. That I wouldn’t like it, even if I’ve never tried it. But I’m telling you, Sam, back off.” 

Never tried? Who has never tried a freaking chocolate chip cookie? Is he some gluten-free, sugar-free raw freak? (no offense here, guys) What the hell? You looked at him dumbfounded not really understanding what he was talking about.

There was probably going on a silent conversation between Bucky and Sam because they were staring each other down, you somehow in the middle of them, still looking at Bucky questionably. 

What you didn’t know was that the previous weekend, Steve and Sam ambushed Bucky at his apartment, with some cold beers and a take out. They desperately needed to find out what was really happening (or not happening, in this case) between the two of you, and because they are such nosy little shits, they needed to know it like yesterday.

Bucky was desperately trying to throw them out, really wasn’t in the mood to sit with tow assholes, no matter that they were his best friends. He knew what kind of questions would come up, and he was doing everything in his power to not succumb. 

Needless to say, he didn’t succeed. 

“SHE IS YOUR WHAT?” Sam yelled in the most high-pitched voice Bucky’s ever heard. “She is your fucking mate- no, no, no, she is your fucking TRUE mate, and you just what, ignore her? Growl at her? Have you lost your goddamn mind, Barnes?”

While Sam was having his little, although very loud meltdown, Steve was just shaking his head. He nudged Sam, who looked at him mid-sentence and immediately shut up when he saw Steve’s face. 

“So, you are telling us, that you were so lucky to have found your true mate, the one person who was literally made to be with you, made FOR you, and you decided not to act on it? That’s what you’re telling us, Buck?” 

Bucky stared into his best friend’s eyes, trying to get him to understand without actually having to talk about it. Steve felt it, he always did, but he wasn’t willing to let go. Not this time.

“I know you’ve been hurt and stuff, but, why do you think Y/N must necessarily be the same as-“ 

“Don’t even say her name. Why do I need to explain myself to you two? I’m a grown-ass Alpha, who decided to forever live a bachelor life and you should understand that. Or don’t, I don’t give a shit, just don’t tell me what to do or what not to do.” 

“Sure thing, buddy. Just one question, doesn’t her smell like, drives you nuts?” Sam asked him incredulously. “Her smell? Pff, no way, don’t even know what she smells like, told ya, not interested.” Everyone in the room knew it wasn’t true, and Bucky knew they knew. He was just glad they didn’t press him even more.

The truth was, he knew precisely what she smelt like, and if he closed his eyes, he could even feel you on the tip of his tongue. She smelt like freshly cut grass, with a hint of vanilla and coconut- the perfect mix of fresh and sweet at the same time. But he couldn’t think about it about you! 

Sam wanted to push his buttons a little more“So, you cool working with your true mate, not being able to touch her? Seeing other Alphas being all over her?” Bucky growled involuntarily. His Alpha side wanted to jump out of his skin, find you, and claim you so that no other Alpha would even lay their eyes on you. His logical side shook all those thoughts away. Nothing good ever came from an Omega, he reminded himself, trying to chase images of you with another man from his mind.

“Pf, you’re totally cool and not interested, my man.” This earned Sam a punch into a shoulder, which Sam knew would bruise, as it did many times before. He really admired his own shoulder for never giving up on him and actually not shattering after so many years of these hard-ass punches by his partner.

Steve was watching them with a smirk. All he wanted was for his best friend to be happy, to let his walls down and let you in. He knew at that moment he would not let Bucky ruin his own life. Not on Steve’s watch. 

So when you came towards Sam with those damn-good cookies, he knew he wanted to push Bucky to some action. Sam saw in Bucky’s eyes, damn, his whole posture, that he wasn’t having fun. Sam just couldn’t see if it was Bucky’s anger that Sam was actually bringing it up again, or if he was jealous. 

Your plan was simple: get Sam to like so that Bucky could see that you get along with one of his best friends and would get through his thick skull that he could get along with you too. The first part of the plan worked out all too well. Sam loved those cookies, and you two were having fun, well, until Mr Growling-All-the-Time came. 

Sam’s voice got you back to reality. “Well, if you aren’t willing to try, then trust me, someone will. For a start, I think these smell delicious and the taste? Wow, even better, ain’t it true, Y/N? What do you put in ‘em.”

You frowned but answered him nevertheless. “Uhm, sure, I guess, it’s my grandma’s recipe, the secret-not-so-secret ingredient is vanilla.”

“Aaah, vanilla, that’s it. I love me some vanilla, let me tell you, girl!” 

You were looking at Sam, not really getting where he was going, so what you couldn’t quite see was Bucky’s whole body going rigid, before he lunged at Sam from across the room. 

What Bucky didn’t seem to realize, was the closeness between you and Sam, so when he jumped at Sam, he inevitably had to go through you. He didn’t even seem to see you, the venom in his eyes was blinding him momentarily. And because you didn’t see him coming, you couldn’t duck, you couldn’t step away, nothing. You had only time to turn your head to see Bucky being almost on you and brace yourself for the impact.

The crush of three bodies was stronger than you would’ve anticipated. Bucky’s body collided mainly with yours, only his hands grabbing Sam and pulling him closer to him so he could get a good punch. Sam was as shocked as you were. He knew he was getting under Bucky’s skin, but didn’t think it would have such effect.

You fell down like a sack of potatoes. You tried to stop the fall by extending your arms (which must’ve looked great, like a little bird learning to fly but failing miserably) but failed mainly because your left arm caught the corner of one of the tables and you could only feel the searing pain shooting through your lower arm. 

You landed with a thud, accompanied by a louder thud, that when your head hit the ground after your body. You laid there, splayed like a starfish, all of your limbs facing different directions. You tried to blink away the black dots, but the more you tried to blink, the more dots you saw. You couldn’t hear any voices, the high-pitched ringing in your ears preventing you from hearing the whole team running towards you and the guys, who didn’t realize what was happening until Steve and Tony separated them.

They were both able to throw about two good punches, knowing they would both be sporting matching black eyes. “Enough!” Steve’s voice boomed through the room. “Are you two so childish you have to fight at the unit? Can’t you take it to the ring after the shift, huh? Not only are you disrupting the piece of the team and the work being actually done, but you also hurt one of our own too.”

With that, both men’s eyes shifted towards where you were standing before the fight occurred, but could only see Scott, Bruce, and Natasha being crouched above someone on the ground.

Bucky nudged Tony to his ribs so that he could get away from him and closer to you. He jumped to your side and tried to touch you, but someone’s hand stopped him in his movement. He looked up and saw it was Scott, with a threatening look in his eyes, holding him back. 

“Haven’t you done enough? You don’t need to pretend that you care about her well-being when we both know that you don’t.” 

Bucky growled. Again. “Get your hands off of me, Lang.” Scott wanted to say something else, but you groaned audibly from underneath them.

The ringing in your ears stopped, and the black dots weren’t occupying your whole vision, so you tried to blink the rest of them away, only to see Bucky and Scott above your head, Scott gripping tightly on Bucky’s hand, preventing him from touching you.

At one hand, you were super thankful to Scott, he knew how much you were hurting, and when you admitted that Bucky was indeed your true mate, you had your hands full with stopping Scott from marching into Bucky’s apartment and kicking him into his shin.

On the other hand, you wanted to feel what Bucky’s touch was like. You wanted to engulf yourself in his smell and just stay in that safe cocoon. 

You realized soon enough that Bucky wasn’t your safe place because he never once allowed you to come close to you and the side thankful to Scott was suddenly stronger. 

“Ouch, my head! And why does my arm hurt so fucking much?” you rasped, avoiding Bucky’s searching eyes. Everyone’s heads turned toward your arm, and a hiss escaped Bruce’s mouth. “Well, that’s a nasty gash, Y/N. I think you’ll need some stitches.”

You groaned again, now totally annoyed. “Awesome, that’s just… perfect, really, thanks, guys. What was that even about, Barnes? Jumping at us like that, because of what, goddamn cookies?” Your annoyance transformed itself into being totally pissed. You tried to sit up and suddenly felt a tingling sensation on your back from someone’s touch. Bucky. 

You really wanted to let him do anything to you as long as he was not growling and actually being there with you, but, at the same time, you were on the ground, bleeding and possibly with a concussion because of him.

You smacked his hand away. “Don’t,” was the only thing you said to him. “C’mon, Omega, let me-“ 

Now it was your time to growl. “Omega? Really? So suddenly, I’m an Omega to you? Till about 30 seconds ago, you didn’t want to see me, let alone speak to me and god forbid that I would try to touch you. You said you never wanted an Omega, so how about you let me alone here, with people who actually give a shit about me? Let’s not pretend like you’re one of them.”

You knew your words were laced with venom, but the two frustrating weeks, trying to catch his scent, trying to catch a glimpse of him, those two weeks took a toll on you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were deeply hurt by Bucky’s behaviour. And you weren’t about to be a good submissive Omega. You didn’t want to be one of those girls who are being hurt continuously but are still fishing for attention, and when they get, they get all cuddly and wet. 

Nope. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

He looked hurt, but you tried to ignore him, as Scott and Bruce helped you sit on the nearest chair. What you, therefore, couldn’t see, was Bucky’s face contorting into a pained expression, when you preferred another Alpha touching you, helping you. Bucky knew he had no right to be jealous, and if he were in his right mind, he wouldn’t even try to touch you, let alone call you an Omega. 

That was one of the most intimate or insulting ways to address a person one could imagine, depending on the person uttering those words. He knew he had no right for the level of intimacy it required and he definitely didn’t mean to insult you at that moment, it just slipped. 

Those two weeks, he tried to do everything in his power to stay away from you, but seeing you helpless and hurt on the ground? Hurt by him? That clouded his judgment, and he didn’t really care about anything but your safety and well-being at the moment. He didn’t get a grip on himself. He wasn’t about to let you hurt him the way Amber did.

He swore once that he would never let anyone that close and he truly wanted to keep his own promise to himself. The only problem was that you were starting to get under his skin, despite him preventing you in every possible way he could think of.

He was sure he wouldn’t survive another heartbreak, not from his true mate anyway. But he was drawn to you in ways he never thought possible. His heart secretly cherished every second he could spend somewhere near you and your intoxicating smell and your adorable laugh. Ugh, he was growing soft! 

His heart jumped when he heard you hiss because Bruce began the work of stitching up your arm and his head snapped towards the Omega helping you to get better, actually thinking he could stop Bruce from getting you into more pain.

He was stopped mid-way by Steve’s voice. “Wilson, Barnes, my office, NOW!” Shit, Steve was pissed, and he knew there was no way he would talk his way out of this one. 

Scott was holding your other hand, letting you squeeze the life out of it because the stitching was not as painless as you hoped it would be. He leaned in and whispered to your ear: “Well, he didn’t have to hurt you and he’s so up for some ass-kicking but one thing we know for sure, he’s not immune to you, and we have to use it against him.” You looked over at Scott, who was now smirking devilishly and had to laugh a little, before Bruce’s needle went through your skin again, followed by a very silent “sorry” by Bruce.

“So, what do you propose I do, Scott?”

/ Next Chapter >

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[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Lawrence Pie Co.

Summary:  Being new in town, you decided to get to know what the Lawrence, Kansas has to offer. Little did you know you would find the most delicious pie you’ve ever tasted and an even more delicious man. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: teeth rotting fluff

Square Filled: Coffee Shop AU

Authors Note: Written for @spngenrebingo , This was possibly the easiest thing for me to write in a long time. It reads like a self indulgent, fall aesthetic, rom com meet cute and I have no regrets. I hope you enjoy and remember feedback is everything xo...

Downtown Lawrence looked like your typical downtown did in mid-October. The various locally owned stores were decorated in either a festive fall or Halloween theme. There were pumpkins and stalks of corn and barrels of hay. The air was crisp, wind whipping around the fallen leaves. People were sporting coats, sweaters, and hats of beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows. All of it made you ecstatic. Lawrence was the perfect aesthetic and you could not be happier about taking a job here. 

It was your last day before you began the day shift at the local hospital. They had been in great need of a nurse practitioner and you had been able to score yourself a decent salary. Being here was your new beginning after college. You decided to get to know your new surroundings, taking to downtown on foot to check out the local scene. You had found some great things to decorate your home in, and on your way back towards your street, a small café caught your eye. The small sign above the large window read Lawrence Pie Company, but also advertised drinks and other various baked goods. The smell wafting from the place had your mouth watering so you headed in. 

A small bell jungled as you stepped inside. The delicious aroma only heightened as you entered. There were a few customers littered around at the tables in the dining room. The place seemed to have decent business for brunch time on a Sunday. 

You waltzed over towards the counter, your eyes catching all the goodies behind the glass next to the register. A small fresh baked daily sign sat on top of the glass next to a bowl of fresh fruit. They even had explanations on the local farmers they got all their ingredients from. It was a dream that you had stumbled upon this place. 

“Hey! Welcome to Lawrence Pie Company what can I get for you?” The man standing across from you was everything but what you expected to see. He was wearing an apron that was covered in what you presumed was flour over a flannel and jeans. But that wasn’t the most surprising. It was his striking features. The emerald green eyes, puffy pink lips and a strong jaw covered in a well kept beard. He was also tall, probably over six foot. He was now smirking at you and you knew you had been caught staring. 

“Uh, I uh have no idea. I got distracted… by the pies I mean, they look delicious.” Nice save...

“Does that mean you don’t want a slice?” He asked as he brushed his hands on the towel over his shoulder. 

“It means I want all the slices but I should probably only have one and I can’t choose which to order.” You mentally kicked yourself, the words falling from your lips without thought. You probably sounded like a bumbling idiot. “Any recommendations?”

“Well, my best seller has to be the apple, it pairs great with our house blend coffee. Or if you aren’t a coffee fan, I made a fresh batch of hot apple cider today. Cider Hill Family orchard sent me some real beauties this week.” He motioned towards a sign advertising the cider. You hummed. 

“Oh I love coffee but it feels like a cider kind of day.” You fished out your wallet as he rang up you order. 

“Alright, you want me to package this to go?” He asked as you handed over the money. 

“That would be great.” You watched as he pulled a slice of pie and put it in a small box. He then busied himself with pouring the cider. He was done quickly, sliding over the goods. 

“Well, thank you so much for all your help…” you trailed off as you waited for him to tell you his name. 

“Dean… Winchester.” He nodded. 

“Y/n.” You offered back. “Have a good day Dean.” 

****

It wasn’t fair just how delicious the cider and pie had been. You had let out an audible moan as you took your first bite. Instantly, you knew this café was going to be your new favorite place. It helped that the cashier was hotter than hell too. 

When the following Sunday rolled around, you grabbed the horror book you had been reading and merrily made you way back to Lawrence Pie Company. It was later in the afternoon this time and fewer people sat at the tables around the store. You could see Dean standing behind the counter and helping another customer. His eyes flickered to you as the bell ringing signaled your arrival. He said goodbye to the young girl as he handed her a drink before turning his smile on you. 

“Look who’s back.” 

“Are you kidding me? How could I not be? That pie was the best thing I’ve ever tasted, but don’t tell my mother that.” You set down the book on the counter as you leaned against it. 

“Well thank you. It’s my mother's recipe.” 

“My compliments to your mother.” You mumbled only partially talking about the pie. 

“She would have loved to hear it.” His words were not lost on you. “What can I get you today?” He brushed past his comment. 

“I’d love to try the house blend today and how about one of those blueberry muffins? For here.” You pointed towards the showcase. You were determined to try everything on the menu at least once. 

Dean set to grabbing you what you asked for and you decided to try and get a little more out of this handsome stranger. 

“So, your mom owner the place?” You asked, trying to keep your voice casual. 

“Uh, well she used to. My mother passed away about five years ago.” He was pouring the coffee as he spoke. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s okay. She was sick for a long time, so we had time to prepare.” Dean placed the ceramic mug on the counter and leaned to grab a plate. “You want the muffin warmed?”

“Please.” He walked over to a small microwave and placed the muffin in it. “And now, you own the place?”

“My brother and I. We decided to take over, this place was her life and we couldn’t bear to let it go. So I bake the pies and Sammy does the bills.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. 

“Wait, you bake these pies?” He chuckled, it was probably a comment he was used to. 

“Yeah, I grew up in this place. Mom taught me everything I know.” He turned as the microwave dinged and pulled out the muffin. 

“Hmm, well color me surprised and appreciative.” You handed over the money to him. “Thank you.” The plate was warm but not unbearable. Setting it down on a table by the large windows, you took the coffee over to the small station with modifiers and poured in a little milk.

The clouds were darkening as you sat down and opened your book. It was pouring by the time you finished your muffin and you sighed. This morning you had forgotten to check the forecast, and now you were stuck here without an umbrella. You could only hope that it cleared up so you could walk back home. 

Those hopes were dashed. The time kept clicking by on the clock and the rain continued to come down in sheets. The pages to be read in your book grew smaller and smaller. You didn’t even register that you were the last customer inside until Dean spoke. 

“That must be quite an interesting book.” He sat down in the seat next to you. He had shed his apron and was wearing a jacket. With a glance, you checked the time. It was a quarter after five and the café was supposed to be closed. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, it’s pretty good.” You glanced outside again at the pouring rain and bit your lip before looking back at Dean. He seemed to recognize your predicament. 

“You have an umbrella?” He asked. 

“Uh, no. I didn’t realize it was supposed to rain today.” Your nose scrunched as you admitted your mistake. 

“Come on, I'll take you home.” Dean stood and gestured for you to follow him. 

“Dean, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m sure you have things you need to finish here.” You sat up straighter. 

“Nah, I already finished my closing list. Now come on, I wouldn’t want you to melt.” With a chuckle, you followed after him as he guided you through the kitchen. It was sparkling clean and more homey than expected. 

Dean grabbed an umbrella near the back door and pushed it open. He guided you to the passenger seat of a beautiful classic car and opened the door. He held the umbrella over you as you climbed in and shut the door behind you before running in front of the car and hopping behind the wheel. 

The dampness and the cold were beginning to seep into your bones as Dean turned over the ignition. He breathed into his cupped hands and turned the heat full blast. 

“What is she?” You inquired as you ran a hand over the shiny leather of the bench seat. Dean smiled wide. 

“She my Baby. Sixty-seven Impala. Used to be my Dad’s but he handed her over when he couldn’t take care of her anymore.” He backed out of the parking space and you guided him in the general direction of your home. 

“Well she is mint.”

“I used to restore classic cars before I took over the family business. Now it’s more of a hobby I do when I get the time.” He turned down your street as you indicated. 

“That is possibly the sweetest thing I have ever heard a man say.” Dean guffawed at your sentiment. 

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, not many guys would give up doing something they love, like restoring cars, for owning and running their late mothers bakery. Let alone admit it to a stranger.” You pointed at your house as Dean approached it and he pulled up the driveway and parked behind your Jeep. 

“You’re probably right.” He admitted. You stared at him for a moment, a blush had crept up his neck and cheeks. Every time you spoke with Dean, he just became an even greater enigma than when you first laid eyes on him. An enigma you were determined to crack. 

“Listen, would you like to come in for a drink? You know as a thank you for the ride home.” You asked with bated breath. Dean licked his lips as he searched your eyes for something, something that you weren’t sure of. 

“I’d love to.”

___________

Tags: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @casualfestivaltrashpainter @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @fallenlux @grease222 @frackinawesomeninja @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfic @witandnargles

[starrywonn]

cafe latte

not requested

a/n: a purely self indulgent barista jisung au bc i was STRESSED and i was watching re-feel and a LOT of cafe videos

pairing: barista! han jisung x baker! reader

genre: fluff

scenario type: bulletpoint

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none

jisung was a barista at the nineteen cafe

honestly speaking, he didn’t even plan on working here

he helped his friend, chan, once because he was bored of waiting for him and somehow, he got dragged into working at the cafe

he wasn’t complaining though

i mean he got some pretty amazing coffee, unlike the acrid, watered down liquid the uni cafeteria served

and he got to hang out with his friends who also worked there

so jisung was a real winner here

until the cafe’s main baker, woojin leaves the shop

jisung was almost bawling when he announced it

jisung: does this mean i’ll never get to eat any of your chocolate croissants anymore??? T^T

woojin: if you keep this up, i’ll bring chocolate croissants for everyone but u

jisung: nOOOOO i’m sorry :“”“”“” i love u please…. not my croissants…..

honestly, at that point, woojin wasn’t even sure if jisung loved him or his pastries more

but woojin still had to leave and they had to find a replacement asap

recruitment posters were put up all over the campus

baker needed! nineteen cafe @ jyp university. walk-in interview

so when you, a broke university student, see it, you thank the heavens

you baked pretty often and your creations weren’t too bad if you said so yourself :]]

plus the cafe was on campus grounds so it’s definitely worth a shot

you stand outside the cafe and your legs turn to jelly

“come on y/n!! it’s just an interview!! you have to do this or you’ll spend the rest of your life broke!!!!!” you whisper scream to yourself

you finally make your way in and look around the cafe

soft acoustic music is accompanied by the chatter of patrons and the clinking of cups on ceramic saucers

a well-built man dressed in a white button up and black pants tends to the cash register

there’s no one ordering anything so you scutter up to the counter

“hi, uh, i’m here for the interview?”

“ok hold on,” the man turns around, “channnn, there’s someone here for the interviewww”

a blond walks out of the kitchen, covered in flour

“hey, i’m chan. the manager here. i’m gonna make this quick since i have to continue to try and make brownies,” he dusts his hands on his apron and gestures to an empty table in the cafe

“what’s your name?”

you stutter out your name and he scribbles it in a notebook he takes out from his pocket

“alright, y/n, how long have you been baking for?”

“about six years”

he scribbles again

after that, the interview is a blur from your sheer nervousness

“ok, this is the last bit. can you make a batch of brownies? we have to gauge your abilities”

you follow him to the kitchen

“wait, weren’t you trying to make them just now?”

chan ignores your question

“if you need anything, just call me!!”

and with that, he strides out of the kitchen

oh, wow, okay, so this was happening now

you put on the apron on the counter and pull out all the ingredients and utensils

it’s like something takes over you

your hands move on their own and it truly is a beautiful sight :“))))

jisung walks into the back to get ready for his shift but to get there, he has to get past the kitchen

the smell of chocolate wafts into his nose

he pauses

this was the best thing he’s ever smelt

"god? is that you?” jisung whispers

you snort, “yeah but you can call me y/n”

jisung freezes up and his eyes widen

“holy shit. cool. gotta go. uh, bye.”

jisung runs out and almost slams into chan

“woah woah woah, what’s got you so jittery??” chan asks

“nothing BYE”

jisung bolts for the cashier, “ changbin, i’m here!!!! you can go nOw”

changbin, although very confused, leaves

it’s about a little into jisung’s shift when you come out to call chan

in your hands are a tray of the freshly baked brownies

you offer one to chan and he almost cries from joy

“this …. is absolutely amazing….”

he passes one to jisung who is still shaking on the inside

jisung bites a corner off the chocolatey treat

he almost swears that his soul leaves his body because it was THAT good

he gives you a thumbs up and a big smile

chan offers your brownies to a few others who all give great responses, making your confidence shoot up

“okay, y/n, we’ll send you an email if you’re accepted,” chan says

“ok, thanks”

you leave the store and celebrate

that went way better than you had expected

all you have to do now is to wait

that can’t be that hard right?

oh but it was

every notification from your phone and laptop made you leap from your chair

it’s two days later when you get the email

dear y/n, we are pleased to announce that you have been hired as nineteen cafe’s new baker. please come to the cafe tomorrow for your first day. thank you.

*cue celebration pt.2*

the next morning, you bust into the bakery, ready to kick some butt

the cafe is empty, save for chan and changbin setting up

the early morning light pours into the cafe through its ceiling-to-floor windows

chan notices you and hands you a slip of paper with all the stuff to be made

“there’s a file of recipes in the kitchen. it’s on the shelf above the bowls”

you thank him and look through the list

strawberry shortcake, coconut cake, chcoolate chip cookies, brownies, blueberry muffins, raspberry cheesecake

and there was a second page….

the list was so much longer than you expected

one thing at a time

you took out the bowls and ingredients

following the recipe, you managed to whip up a pretty decent cake

the rest of the baked goods you made were also pretty good

you place them in the display fridge

you heaved a sigh of relief

you didn’t screw up on your first day!!!!

go you!!!

second day of work

good news: chan gives you free reign to experiment and come up with new stuff

bad news: the stand mixer breaks

worse news: the stand mixer can only be fixed a week later

kind of good news??: you’re gonna get buff

so you have to ask for help from the rest of the nineteen staff

working with all of them, BUT jisung, is great

but you have to get help from him since you don’t always wanna bother everyone too often

search chaos in the dictionary and you’ll get a photo of you and jisung baking

you’ll make a bowl of batter and having that half that bowl gone after 5 minutes

“HOW AREN’T YOU DEAD FROM SALMONELLA YET??¿?¿¿??”

or when you bake anything with chocolate

oh my GOD

you’ll go to grab a baking pan

and when you come back, the packet is suddenly so light

you: did you eat the chocolate again

jisung, chocolate covering his mouth:

you:

jisung, chocolate still covering his mouth: …no

he’d pop into the kitchen even when you don’t need his help just to screw with you

“oooOOOoo, is this a new recipe”

“nope. also don’t eat the chocolate chip cookies,” you say, still focused on making frosting

jisung just lets out a roar of laughter

“ok i won’t”

“but i’ll eat the muffins”

“jisUNG NO”

but all that eating of RAW batter and other stuff finally gets to him

jisung calls in sick

as much as you want to laugh at him, you’re kind of concerned,,,,

like he ate,,,, so much,,,,

you ask chan for jisung’s address so you can visit him

he gives you a face but gives you the address anyways

while carrying some porridge and medicine, you knock on his door

a very pale and dishevelled jisung opens the door but he gives you his usual goofy smile

“can’t get enough of me huh?” he chuckles weakly

“yea, sure whatever you want to think. anyways, i brought some stuff”

“come on in. it’s a little bit of a mess though”

his coffee table is covered in papers and his laptop is playing an episode of brooklyn nine-nine

cushions are strewn on the couch, a blanket draped over them

“i’ll leave the medicine on your kitchen counter but you should eat the porridge now before it gets cold”

jisung nods and you hand him the tupperware box

he gladly opens it and eats a spoonful

“this is so good,” jisung says

“thanks”

you sit next to him quietly as you watch the show

“how are you feeling??” you muster up

“i literally have not seen the light of day in 5 YEARS, my stomach has not known pain like this” he says between mouthfuls of porridge

“that’s what you get for eating so much RAW batter”

“i know but it was so GOOD!! it was totallly worth it”

you shoot a glare at him and he returns a cheeky smile

you try your best to keep a straight face but you can’t help laughing at him

the buzzing of your phone calls for your attention

you grab it and look at the caller id

“oh shit. sorry ‘sung, i gotta go. uni calls! bye!!”

you scurry out of jisung’s apartment and sprint to campus for your project

a few days pass and jisung returns to work

he’s back to almost bouncing off the walls

but when he comes into the kitchen with your tupperware box and a cup of coffee in his hands, he’s flushed red

jisung leaves them on the counter and zooms out of the kitchen

you finish kneading the bread and pick up the cup of coffee

a heart sits on top of the foamy milk

you take a few sips before realising the small piece of paper on the saucer

your cheeks feel a slight warmth as you read the note

“thanks for the food and stuff!! let’s get dinner some time soon ok?? - jisung”

you kind of want to scream but you probably shouldn’t

what do you do????

do you text him??? tell him in real life??? give him another note???? maybe you should just burn the note and pretend he never gave anything to you???? 

all that fills your mind for the rest of the day is the note

soon, it’s the end of both yours and jisung’s shift

you grab your stuff from the lockers in the back

as you try to leave, jisung tries to enter the narrow doorway

you shuffle left and jisung shuffles right

“sorry,” you say as you go in the opposite direction

and so does jisung

HHHHHH

you stay put as jisung moves past you

turning around, you call out, “hey 'sung! are you free right now? i know a good sushi place around here”

jisung almost jumps from his skin and you can see the crimson creeping up his ears under the fluorescent lighting

“yea- yea i am!! just give me a minute to grab my stuff,” he replies

he comes out with his backpack soon after

jisung grabs your hand and brings you out of the cafe

“lead the way!!”

[virnom01]

70+ Fryer Healthy Recipes For All Meals (2020)

First the magic bullet and now the air fryer.  Every so often a food craze breaks out that’s so great that you can’t help but jump on the bandwagon.  In my quest to eat healthier but still enjoy the taste of my food I’ve landed on the infamous air fryer.  In this blog post, I’m going to share with you my mega list of healthy air fryer recipes.

Note: This page contains affiliate links, which means that if you buy something using one of the links below, I may earn a commission.

Air Fryer Recipes - get 70 plus healthy air fryer recipes. Air fryer recipes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner #airfryerrecipes Mediavine

What is an air fryer?

An air fryer is a device that uses hot air to fry foods.  Air fryers can fry foods with little to no oil.  This results in healthier versions of your favorite fried foods. HWS Featured Video  10 Things You Should Never Buy at the Dollar Store

healthy air fryer recipe Mediavine

What Can You Cook with an Air Fryer?

You can cook almost anything in an air fryer.  From the list of healthy air fryer recipes below, you’ll see that you can cook complete breakfast, lunch, and dinner meals using just an air fryer.  There are even air fryer recipes for cakes!

Does Air Frying Destroy Nutrients

Cooking foods using any cooking method can cause it to lose up to 40% of its nutrients. Due to its cooking methods, air fryers allow you to keep more key nutrients than many other cooking methods. Air Fryer’s cook food by circulating hot air. Air frying your food allows you to cook food quickly and healthy.

Is Buying an Air Fryer Worth It?

Buying an air fryer is worth it for many different reasons.  What you have to determine is if these reasons are important to you.  An air fryer can allow you to cook foods that taste like they are fried using the traditional method.  You get the taste of fried foods in a healthier version that is cooked with little to no oil.

Air fryers also allow you to cook foods faster.  If you are short for time and looking for ways to cook fast healthy meals, and air fryer will be worth the buy. Mediavine

Finally, air fryers also allow you to cook many other non-fried types of dishes.  This includes things like cakes and pizza. If you have a small cooking space, an air fryer can serve as a method of cooking multiple types of foods using one kitchen gadget.

Air Fryer Advantages and Disadvantages

There are multiple advantages to adding an air fryer to your kitchen gadgets.  Air fryers allow you to save time by cooking foods faster.  They also allow for faster kitchen clean up time.  Most importantly, air fryers allow you to make healthy dishes that taste good.

There are a few disadvantages to cooking with an air fryer that is worth pointing out.

Overcooking meats in an air fryer can cause them to get a layer of blackened crust.  This layer of crust is called acrylamide, a fairly common compound that can potentially cause cancer.  When cooking in your air fryer you should remove this layer of the blackened crust before eating your meats.

Air fryers also present you with a higher risk of burning or drying out your food.  These magic gadgets cook food rapidly at high temperatures.  It is important that you watch your food and cook for the proper duration.

How to Use an Air Fryer

Here is a great video that demonstrates how to use an air fryer and the many dishes you can make.

Mediavine

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Breakfast

healthy air fryer recipes

Air fryer bacon – Recipes that Crock

Homemade Sausage Rolls In The Airfryer – Recipe This Mediavine

Air fryer French toast sticks – 5 Minutes for Mom

Air Fried Vegan Beignets – Healthy Slow Cooking

Breakfast puffed egg tarts – The Flying Couponer

Ham and egg toast cups – The New Chew

Vegan Bacon-Wrapped Mini Breakfast Burritos – Spabettie

Monte Cristo Sandwich – Blue Jean Chef

Air fryer heavenly french toast – Fork to Spoon

Air Baked Eggs – Senses

Air fryer greasy spoon home fried potatoes – This Old Gal

Air Fryer Tofu Scramble – Glue and Glitter

Air fryer frittata – Awe Filled Homemaker

Air fryer breakfast sausage and cheese wraps – Dana Vento

Air Fryer Eggs in a Hole – Go Wise USA

Easy Air Fryer Omelette – Bitz & Giggles

Air Fryer Perfect Cinnamon Toast – This Old Gal

Blueberry Lemon Muffin Air Fryer – Wine Lady Cooks

Cinnamon Rolls – Blue Jean Chef

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Veggies

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Crispy roasted broccoli – Saffron Trail

Crispy air-fried brussels sprouts – Glue and Glitter

Roasted chickpeas – Care 2

Air fryer fried green tomatoes – Spicy Southern Kitchen

Air-Fried asparagus – Moma Shire

Air fried carrots, two ways – Bewitching Kitchen

Crispy oven-fried garlic mushrooms – Recipes Diaries

Lemony green beans – The Real Kitchen and Beyond

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Chicken

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Crispy low-fat air fryer chicken – The Midnight Baker

Air fryer Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich – This Old Gal

Air fryer garlic parmesan chicken tenders – Kitchen Dreaming

Air fried buffalo chicken strips – Beauty and the Bench Press

Air fryer crispy honey garlic chicken wings – This Old Gal

Air fryer chicken fajita rollups – Awe Filled Homemaker

Air fryer buffalo style skinny chicken wings – Just Plum Crazy

Air fryer whole roasted chicken – Funny is Family

Air fryer chimichangas – Recipe Diaries

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Pork

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Pork-Chop air fryer recipe (Bone-in or Boneless) – Saving You Dinero

Air fryer steak with garlic butter – The Forking Life

Pork tenderloin with bell pepper – The Philips Chef

Air fryer Chinese salt and pepper pork chops – This Old Gal

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Beef

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Air fryer steak with garlic butter – The Forking Life

Air fried meatloaf – Toast to Roast

Beef & vegetable recipe – Cooking with Doug

Air fryer Mongolian beef – Mommy Hates Cooking

Air fried burgers – Hot Air Frying

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Seafood

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Air fryer cajun shrimp – Spatula On Fire

Zesty Ranch Air Fryer Fish Fillets – The Kitchen Magpie

Air fryer bang bang panko-breaded fried shrimp – Stay Snatched

Air fried crab cakes – Color Your Recipies

Perfect air fryer salmon – Noble Pig

Air fryer parmesan shrimp – Bitz & Giggles

Thai fish cakes with mango salsa – The Philips Chef

Coconut shrimp – Power Air Fryer

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Appetizers & Sides

healthy air fryer recipes Mediavine

Air fryer pizza bagels – Mommy Hates Cooking

Air fryer sweet potato chips – Awe Filled Homemaker

Air fryer bacon and cream cheese stuffed jalapeno poppers – Stay Snatched

Air fryer french fries – A Pinch of Healthy

Air fryer dill pickles – Just a Pinch Recipies

Weight Watchers air fryer cajun zucchini chips – Life is Sweeter by Design

Flourless crunchy onion rings – Recipe This

Weight Watchers air fryer buffalo cauliflower – FOODSERVICE

Air fryer crispy crab rangoon – Stay Snatched

Cauliflower tater tots – Blue Jean Chef

Air fried Hasselback potatoes – Key Ingredient

Air fryer mac and cheese balls – A Sparkle of Genius Mediavine

Air fryer baked garlic parsley potatoes – Courtney’s Sweets

Air fryer perfect biscuits – Fork to Spoon

Healthy Air Fryer Recipes – Desserts

healthy air fryer recipes

Five-minute air fryer donuts – Hip 2 Save

Air fryer apple dumplings – Key Ingredient

Air fryer apple hand pies – Recipe Diaries Mediavine

Air fryer churros – Recipes for Our Daily Bread

Chocolate chip zucchini bread – Recipe This

Chocolate cake in an air fryer – Allrecipes

Let’s Get Healthy

Are you ready to jump on the healthy eating bandwagon?  Grab you and air fryer and give some of these tasty healthy air fryer recipes a try.  I’m sure you will enjoy them as much as I do.  Here are a few air fryers to get you started.

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Pancake Day headcanons

Seeing at it’s Shrove Tuesday/Pancake Day today, I thought it might be fun to write some headcanons for the modern!AU gang and their pancake habits! 

In this scenario, I’m imagining everyone living in a big house together. It’s not practical or realistic, I know, but I think it’s cute. 

General

It’s one of the few days of the year in which everyone is home for dinner at the same time.

Pearson tries hard not to care - or show that he cares - but he’s been secretly staying up at night for weeks browsing the best pancake recipes online in order to make the perfect batter. 

He goes grocery shopping with Jack earlier in the day to buy all the ingredients and toppings - Jack dashes around the supermarket aisles grabbing flour, eggs, milk, butter, every type of spread you can think of, fruit, syrups, chocolates...

Pearson considers asking him to reel it in a little, but decides against it. He actually adds a few extra treats himself. 

At home, Sean announces to anyone who’s in ear-range that he’s going to beat his all-time record of eating 25 pancakes in one sitting, tonight. 

He says this every year. No one is really sure if ever truly ate 25 pancakes in one sitting, as the number fluctuates every time he tells the story. 

He, Uncle, John, Lenny, Kieran and Karen are already breaking into the sweet pancake toppings. Susan scurries around the house after them, snatching back the snacks and scolding them for their gluttony. John almost chokes to death from trying to stuff a fistful of M&M’s in his mouth at once, in a panic. 

Abigail, Mary-Beth and Hosea all ask if they can help in the kitchen, but Pearson won’t hear of it. “You leave me to my kingdom, thank you.” he says, only half jokingly. 

Jack sits under the dining table and watches Pearson cook, hypnotised. 

When it comes to pouring the batter into the frying pan, he’s acquired quite an audience. Arthur joins Jack under the table, sitting cross-legged, cracking jokes to make him splutter and giggle. 

Dutch swaggers in, demanding to be allowed to flip the first pancake. Pearson wearily obliges - it’s the same show every year. Hosea sips his coffee in the corner, side-eyeing profusely. 

Of course, the pancake ends up on the floor, where it’s immediately devoured by Cain. 

Dutch insists it was intentional - that was Cain’s pancake, he explains to Jack, who raises an eyebrow. 

After a couple more failed attempts, he manages to toss one perfectly - the entire kitchen breaks into applause. 

Arthur offers to make Dutch a t-shirt saying “World’s Greatest Tosser”. Everyone except Dutch (who’s thrilled at the idea) gets the joke. 

Sadie surprises even herself by being the best at flipping the pan - she can’t help but grin. 

Sean’s attempts stay impressively glued to the ceiling. 

Soon, several plates are stacked high with golden, fluffy pancakes. Everyone is drooling. 

Trelawny appears at the back door ten minutes into the meal, claiming to have just been passing by and thought he’d stop in...and what’s this? You’re all eating? Well, perhaps he’ll join you...

Everyone rolls their eyes - this is another yearly occurrence. 

Swanson ends up eating the most - a whopping 26 pancakes. Several gang members are certain they heard Sean sobbing in the bathroom later. 

There’s plenty of bickering - and as a result, a lot of dropped food. Cain has to be watched like a hawk in case he tries to eat any chocolate. 

Tilly cuts all of her pancakes into animal shapes, glaring when Susan snaps at her not to play with her food. 

Mary-Beth practices singing her name in maple syrup. 

Javier saves one of his pancakes, secretly cutting out holes for his eyes and mouth. He wears it around the house like a mask, nearly giving poor Strauss a heart attack as he’s coming out of the bathroom. 

The inevitable food coma takes it’s toll on everyone - and everyone agrees that the washing up can wait until morning. 

Toppings

Arthur: butter, maple syrup, bacon. Exactly as you’d expect. He licks the plate clean afterwards. 

John: peanut butter and Nutella. The topping-to-pancake ratio is way off, with the Nutella almost double the volume of everything else. 

Dutch: whipped cream, fresh mango slices and peaches. He likes to think it’s how the Tahitians would eat their pancakes. No one bothers telling him otherwise. 

Hosea: lemon and sugar, no fuss, nothing fancy. He sits back in contentment after finishing each pancake, patting his belly. 

Javier: apple slices and cinnamon. He’s still trying to convince Bill to do the cinnamon challenge. 

Sadie: salted butter, possibly a bit of sugar. She isn’t one for complicated toppings or combinations - why can’t people just eat the darn thing? 

Abigail: blueberries and maple syrup. She loves rollings it up like a cigar and eating it with her hands. 

Susan: lemon and sugar, just like Hosea. She subtly sucks her fingers clean, eyes closed, her lips pursed together at the bitter lemons. 

Micah: bacon, bacon, and extra bacon. Sugar is for the weak. Yes, he says this multiple times over the course of the dinner. Arthur decides to secretly give him vegan bacon next year and see if he notices. 

Charles: banana, peanut butter and cinnamon. He only has two or three, preferring to savour them.

Kieran: butter and honey. He makes the cutest noises of contentment as he eats, his eyes closed. He doesn’t care that everyone’s giggling at him, not one bit. He’s in heaven. 

Sean: everything on the table. He piles the toppings high, his eyes shining, placing a second pancake over the top like a sandwich. He insists it’s good, and that no, it most certainly was not him being sick at 1am. 

Jack: he wants to have everything, like Uncle Sean, but Abigail won’t let him. He settles for Nutella and M&M’s, arranging them in colour order. 

Bill: whipped cream and chocolate chips, with bacon on the side. The cream gets caught in his beard, making him look like a terrible Santa Claus impersonator. 

Mary-Beth: blackcurrant jam. She loves the colour, the tanginess, but always manages to stain her blouse with purple. 

Tilly: strawberries and whipped cream. She piles the cream high, so it looks like a fluffy white castle on a hill. Probably the first to initiate a food fight. 

Karen: glace cherries, strawberries, blueberries, cream and maple syrup. She has a massive sweet tooth and loves the way the berries burst in her mouth. There’s also prime opportunity to make lots of inappropriate cherry jokes. 

Molly: brown sugar and cinnamon. She eats her pancakes daintily, cutting them into tiny bites. But she’s enjoying them immensely, her eyes shining. She extends a finger to wipe around the plate, gathering any sugar she might have missed. 

Lenny: M&M’s, peanut butter, Nutella, whipped cream and sprinkles. This boy wants to make a cake, not a pancake. He layers two or three of them on top of each other, with all the toppings in the middle, slicing it proudly. 

Strauss: butter, with a little spoonful of cherry jam. He eats them quietly, sat in his corner of the enormous table, thinking of the way his mother used to make them in Austria. Maybe one day he’ll give Pearson her recipe. 

Swanson: butter and sugar. As we’ve already established, the man has a bottomless pit of a stomach when it comes to pancakes. He has a little sleep after dinner, curled up in his favourite armchair, but after that he’s back to normal, barely even bloated. No one understands it. 

Trelawny: whipped cream, an enormous mountain of it. He uses up the rest of the can - his face perfectly serious, looking around in surprise when he realises the whole table is staring at him. 

Uncle: bacon and maple syrup, with added M&M’s. Everyone tries hard not to watch him slurp up the combination, his chin covered. It’s rather off-putting. 

Pearson: plain, perhaps with a drop of lemon juice. As head chef, Pearson got first dibs of toppings, but refused them. It happens every year - he wants no distractions from his perfect batter. Yes, this year was the best batch yet. But next year it’ll be even better. 

[destiel-love-forever]

15.3 CODA: Part 2

Read part one [HERE]

Castiel wakes just as the sun is rising. Despite not getting much sleep, he feels rested and ready to take on the day. As rested and ready as possible under the circumstances, anyway. The coffee pot is full of dark liquid that’s still warm. A yellow sticky note is stuck to the front of the machine, neat writing informing him that Jody had to go into work early, and telling him to help himself to anything he needs until she’s back at four P.M.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Castiel walks over to the two large sliding glass doors by the kitchen table and heads outside. The air is cool and crisp, but it feels nice. Refreshing. Castiel leans on the railing of the wooden deck and looks out at the brilliant colors of the back yard. The leaves are breathtaking.

“It’s freezing out here,” Castiel hears from the sliding doors. He glances over his shoulder and forces a smile when he sees Claire standing there.

“I don’t mind.”

She gives him a critical look before stepping out onto the porch and offering him a blanket, hat, scarf, and mittens. When he stares at them instead of taking them from her, she rolls her eyes. “You’re such a doof. Come here.”

When Castiel approaches her, she tugs the burgundy hat over his head, then winds the scarf around his neck. He gets with the program and gives her his coffee so she can hold it while he puts the mittens on as well. After, she wraps the flannel blanket around his shoulders and pats him on the shoulder.

“Much better,” Claire declares. Castiel just now notices that she’s dressed similarly, her black jacket matched with a black hat, a gray scarf, and a pair of mittens that are black with white and gray polka dots. She gives him his coffee back and smiles. “Now, you go ahead and do your weird staring off into space thing that you were just doing, but when you’re done, come inside. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“We do?”

“Yup. All sorts of plans.”

“We have plans? You and I?” Castiel asks, trying to clarify.

She rolls her eyes. “And Alex, too, yup. Chop chop.”

With two claps of her mitted hands, she heads back inside. He stares at the sliding door for another moment before turning his focus back to the trees.

“What in the world could they have planned with me?” he asks the myriad of red, yellow, and orange.

The trees don’t answer.

Just another reason to hate Chuck.

----

The first stop on their schedule is to a bakery. Castiel, Alex, and Claire all get something to drink and eat before hopping back in the car. As they drive, Claire and Alex talk to each other in a constant babble, letting Castiel be as he enjoys his hot cocoa and blueberry muffin. He's feeling much better now that his stomach is full and he's decently rested. Claire must be able to sense this, because she broaches the subject they've all clearly been avoiding as Alex pulls the car into a store parking lot.

"How are you, Cas? Jody said it was a rough night?"

"Rough few days," Castiel says quietly, looking down at his empty to-go cup. "I'll be fine, though. I am always fine."

There's a pause long enough for him to glance up. He finds that both girls are now frowning at him. "What?"

"Well, you're talking to two experts on pretending to be fine when you're really a fucking mess, so don't bullshit us," Claire says matter-of-factly.

"What Claire meant to say in a much kinder way, I'm sure," Alex says with an eye roll, "Is that you don't have to pretend with us. We don't have to talk about it, but feel free to do so. Or to just be sad or whatever else you feel like being. Okay?"

Castiel nods, understanding. "Okay."

"Great. Now, let's fix your coat."

Looking down at his trench coat, Castiel asks, “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“First of all, it’s thin, and you’re clearly more human now considering the way you scarfed down that muffin, so you need something warmer,” Alex explains. “It’s nearly winter now. You’re going to be too cold in that, Cas.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, that thing is atrocious, and old. My dad got that for Christmas when I was like… five. Time for a change, dude.”

Castiel doesn’t like change. He’s had enough damn change in his life recently. Eleven years ago, he commanded a garrison. He was one of Michael’s chosen few. Was given the privilege to save the righteous man. Michael’s true vessel. It was one of the highest honors.

He was respected.

He was feared.

Then he fell in love with humanity. With Dean, if we’re being honest. Those freckles that were like a galaxy on pale skin. Those green eyes that held so many questions and even more answers.

Castiel lost it all.

But he’ll tell ya what - he still has this trench coat. It’s been to hell and back - more than once. It’s all he has left.

That’s why, even though he’s shown multiple options, given at least a dozen eye rolls, and told twice that he’s a doof, Castiel walks out of the coat store with something very similar to his trusty trench coat, just made of wool instead so it’s warmer.

----  

Pumpkin patches are wondrous places. Castiel had assumed it'd be a small farm with pumpkins everywhere, but that's not the case. At least not here. Yes, there are pumpkins. Many, many pumpkins, all of different shapes, sizes, and even colors. But there are also apples - an entire orchard of gorgeous red apples. There’s a corn maze, which Castiel finds both entertaining and frustrating. He gets lost so many times before a five or six year old child takes pity on him by leading him out. It was still a lot of fun, even if Alex and Claire teased him for being terrible at it.

They went for a hayride, too. The farm provided them with big flannel blankets and hot cocoa as they rode in the back, brought around the entire farm, the man driving telling them fascinating information on the crops and harvest, as well as the history of the area and the farm. Then they got to pet the farm animals. Castiel became fond of a horse that enjoyed licking his face. He even giggled, which felt very good to be honest.

Of course, Castiel’s favorite part of their day at the farm was the Bakery & Farm Store. He’s never tasted anything so delicious. They sat at a little table for over an hour, stuffing their faces until Castiel nearly got sick. Between the three of them sharing their treats, they all tried apple cider donuts, cinnamon rolls, strawberry crepes, apple pie, strawberry cream cheese danish, chocolate covered croissants, strawberry rhubarb pie, blueberry muffins, and caramel apple pie. The little old lady running the place liked them so much, she shared her pumpkin pie recipe with Castiel, who promised he’d go home and make it that night.

They left the farm with seven pumpkins, two bags of apples, a dozen apple cider donuts - which were Castiel’s favorite - and caramel apples to-go. By the time Castiel got to the car, he was full, happy, and exhausted. It was the perfect combo to curl up in the backseat and take a little snooze during their long ride home.

He fell asleep smiling.

----

Dean is wide awake despite it being the middle of the night. He's been stalking Castiel's Instagram. Yes. Instagram. Apparently Claire and Alex thought he needed one. Dean only has the damn thing to stalk Dr. Sexy MD actors, but now he's using it to stalk a certain falling angel he can't stop thinking about.

Since he saw the first picture, Dean has been refreshing the page every other minute. It had been a picture taken by Claire, which is how Dean originally came across it, with Castiel tagged in it. He was standing outside, wrapped in a flannel blanket and drinking something from a mug as he stared off at the colorful backyard. Claire's caption had been: Finally finding his peace.

That was at 4:07 P.M, though clearly it had been taken much earlier in the day.

Suffice to say, Dean has gotten nothing accomplished tonight. He hasn't even eaten dinner. All he's done is sit in his room, drink whiskey, and refresh the page.

At 4:37 P.M, there had been the first two photos uploaded by Castiel himself. One was of him reaching up to pluck a leaf off of a tree. The other was just his mitted hand holding the same leaf. The caption for the two was a simple: My favorite.

Dean ached at the fact he wasn't there. He wondered what Castiel's face looked like when he caught sight off this one perfect leaf. Wondered if he had smiled when he finally got it in his hands. Wondered if Castiel still had the leaf, or if he had easily tossed it onto the ground after the photo, just like Dean had done to him.

At 4:42 P.M, Claire uploaded a few photos. One was of Castiel in his new coat and winter gear Dean noticed in the previous photos. He was smiling at something off to the side, a pumpkin patch lined by colorful trees behind him. The next was of Castiel's mittens holding a blue travel coffee mug. Then a photo of Castiel's torso as he holds a pumpkin. Dean knew it was Castiel because of the tiny scar on his thumb. It was from nicking himself with an angel blade last week. With his lowered grace, it hasn't healed properly. Dean had to choke down a new wave of guilt at that reminder before he could look at the final photo. It was of the girls and Castiel around a table where they seemed to be carving pumpkins. They were laughing.

Castiel was wearing a new sweater.

At 5:13 P.M, Castiel posted a photo of a carved pumpkin. It was quite awful. The eyes were different sizes, the nose was partially cut out, but the piece of pumpkin was still stuck inside of it for some reason, and the smile was… unique. The caption was: Claire said I 'nailed it.'

Dean had to wait two hours for another photo. And that's what he did. He waited. Did nothing but drink and hate himself. And, of course, refresh the page.

At 7:22 P.M, Castiel finally posted another photo. It made Dean's heart skip. Well… the caption had, anyway. The pumpkin pie itself was a bit shaky, considering the darker-than-they-should-be edges. But the caption had brought tears to Dean's eyes. It would have tasted better with you.

Dean had tried calling Claire after that. Then Alex. Then Claire again. They ignored him. When he tried calling Jody, she sent a text back saying she was at work, asking if it was an emergency.

With a fresh glass of whiskey, he had waited.

At 8:36 P.M, Castiel posted two more pictures. One of someone making a s'more, a bonfire in the background. The other, two pairs of feet wearing wool socks as they rest up against the side of the fire pit. To the right were blue socks with little snowflakes on them. To the left were bright yellow socks covered in bumble bees.

Dean knew which one was Castiel.

The caption was a simple: Happy.

It made Dean curl into his pillow and cry.

The last one that Dean saw was at 11:57 P.M. It showed Castiel sitting on a bed, holding a purple mug with Witch Please written on it in one hand, and holding an open book in the other. He was in a gray hooded sweater, his legs covered with a blanket the same color as his gorgeous eyes. It was captioned: "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

It's at 3:09 A.M. that Dean realizes Castiel must have fallen asleep.

He crawls under the covers and closes his eyes after, heart racing even though it has no reason to be. It takes a while for the whiskey soaked exhaustion to win over his mind, but eventually Dean slips into a dream.

Castiel is there. In a pumpkin patch. He looks at Dean with a smile and hands him a beautiful leaf. "My favorite for my favorite."

And Dean kisses him.

He kisses him like his life depends on it.

He kisses him like he knows, deep down, that he'll soon have to wake up.

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