leaves and flours

vld cast as monsters

WHY DO I DO THESE????!!!

  • So Keith’s a witch 
    • “Not a warlock, you dumbass, a witch. I don’t need entrails to actually do things, read a book for fucks sake.”
    • In case you didn’t notice, he gets all miffed about the comparison 
  • Allura’s a sorceress
    • The main difference is Keith basically needs a spell book (Lance calls it his cookbook, since he never really ‘casts’ things, just bakes potions) 
    • Allura doesn’t need a book, but she does have to say enchantments
  • Shiro’s a zombie
    • His family adopted Keith
    • Then a few years later he died
    • Keith went all witchy tying to get him back.
      • Obviously, Mr. and Mrs. Shirogane flipped but, eh, they got their son back so no biggie
    • TBH tho Shiro’s lost his arm so many time’s now that Keith’s given up on sewing a new one on him and just got him a prosthetic
  • Hunks a werewolf, comes from big family of them
  • Shay and her brother are were’s, too, but they were Turned, not born
    • Hunk’s family (nobles) don’t give a crap about all that
    • So they took Rax and Shay in when they could
  • Coran’s a seer
    • He’s prophetic and can actually tell what’s going on past all the illusions and glamour thrown around
    • Save for that, Coran’s normal
    • He met Alfor a little after Allura’s mom died and they kind of hit it off
      • He’s pretty much her second dad
  • Lance is mer
    • No, they don’t have tails 
      • they evolved from that eons ago, duh
      • They just control water and have gills, so they move the currents underwater to swim
    • His family lives by the beach near campus so everyone visits often
      • It’s funny cause Allura and Lance’s twin often try and see who can bewitch more people during parties
        • It’s crazy and Coran nearly dies every time
  • Matt’s a ghost
    • He didn’t die, he’s just in a coma, has been in one for a year or so now
    • He hangs out everyone since…
    • …Well…
    • …Let’s just say Keith done fucked up 
    • So now Matt’s tied to the college campus!
    • And he can’t leave whatsoever!
    • Great, huh?
      • “Keith, what the fuCK?!!!”
  • Speaking of college, everyone’s in the same fraternity … sorority … thing ..
    • Well, there’s no gender separation 
    • So it’s just everyone in the same building 
      • As they try not to kill each other and
        • Or blow up the entire campus
  • So one of the most annoying things they all have to deal with is Pidge
  • Kinda
    • So, Pidge is human and doesn’t know about the supernatural
      • Obviously
    • But because Pidge is mortal, they can’t find out about, well, everything
    • But they kinda did?
    • Oops
  • Anyways, it all started when Hunk and Lance brought Pidge home for a project
    • And Matt flipped his shit
      • “…Huh, now that you mention it, she does kind of look like you.”
    • So of course now everything is awkward
    • Hunk is all careful around Pidge, never really talking about his dorm and shit
    • Lance honestly didn’t change cause he’s an awesome liar 
      • Siblings + blackmail = a 100% guarantee he won’t spill the beans 
      • But Pidge will just suddenly look at him, all judgmental and stuff and he’s just like
      • Sweating bullets, like, what the fUCk Hunk how do you deal with this??
      • “I’m feeling something?? is this guilt??? why do I feel guilt?!?!?!”
    • Then there’s Allura and Shiro, who happen to be in a poly relationship with Matt as of second semester
    • One time Shiro almost spills the beans
      • “Honestly, your nothing like your broth - brochure! ….You’re nothing like your brochure?”
      • “…Thank you?”
      • *Allura screaming in the bg*
    • Eventually they all get over it and Pidge is allowed back in the dorm
      • Cause, ya know, they kicked them out for a bit
        • “This place is awesome! How do you apply?”
        • “………. Uh, I don’t really know, Hunk, uh … Lance?”
        • “Ya know, Hunk’d know more about it. He’s the one that got Shay and Rax in.”
        • “What?! I … RAX! Come explain?”
        • “…..fuck.”
    • And now Pidge just frequents the place
    • Sure, there’s weird things going on every other second
      • Like that one closet that Keith won’t let anyone into
      • Or when Shay and Rax get all crabby at random times of the month
      • Or like people including non existent entities in on conversations
      • Or perhaps those moments when random things start to move 
      • “… Why did that mug just … ??? … you know what? Fuck it. Hunk! Come here, I wanna blow shit up!”
    • Everyone manages to keep them in the dark for a whole six months
    • It’s a big project, just keeping Pidge from figuring things out
      • The main problem is because they’re fucking smart and don’t believe in coincidences
        • “No, Pidge, that glass didn’t move. Are you feeling okay?”
        • “No, Pidge, you didn’t just see Allura jump from the second story down without breaking a leg.”
        • “No, Pidge, Keith just really likes his book. Okay. He really likes his book.”
          • “…Is it some kinda kink?”
          • “…Sure. Yeah, let’s go with that.”
            • “Lance, why the fuck does Pidge think I have a fucking book kink?!!”
    • Allura casts a few masking spells and Keith manages to brew a few sealing potions for certain … areas of the dorm
      • But Pidge is sneaky
      • Not to mention immune to Wolfsbane
        • “What the literal fUCK?”
        • “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
          • Te-he, it’s that bad
            • “Wolfsbane is the basis of all things, the foundation, the - the - the … the flour in cookies!! You can’t just leave the flour out of cookies!!”
            • “…You can still make cookies without flour.”
            • “But they’ll be fucking terrible cookies!”
    • Lance smooth talks them out of a few things, too
    • Turns up the charm and Mer’s his way outta things
      • At least, he tries to
      • But Pidge is ace
      • They don’t feel sexual attraction
        • “I can’t do anything! My voice doesn’t work, my charms don’t work, hell, I could flash them and they wouldn’t react.”
        • “Oh trust me, they’d react.”
    • And now Shay and Rax have to come up with stories about all their pills
    • Hunk, the lovable jerk, doesn’t need pills
      • But he does need to explain how he can grow a full on beard in two days
        • “…Blame my mom?”
    • Coran stops doing his freaky glowing eyes thing 
      • Well, he tries
      • He has a few … episodes when Pidge is around and boy
      • Those were fun to cover up
      • Turns out Pidge now thinks Coran’s big into theater and bright blue contacts
    • Even Shiro takes a few precautions
      • He re-sews his stitches nightly so they don’t fly off in the middle of Taco Tuesday
      • He drinks those disgusting potions Keith makes
        • “They keep your body healthy!”
        • “They taste like butt, Keith, like butt.”
      • He spritiz himself in perfume after Pidge notes that he “kinda smells like the earth
        • “Pfft! Smells like the earth? Yeah, that’s eau de coffin.”
        • “Matt, shut up.”
  • In the end, it’s actually Keith who finally spills their secret
    • You see … he and Lance were kind of making out
    • And Mer’s kinda … sorta … glow when they release endorphins
    • So Pidge walks into the living room unannounced and there’s Lance just
    • Sitting there
    • Glowing like a fucking angler fish
  • Covers blown just like that
  • They actually take it really well
    • “… So Lance is a mermaid?”
    • “Kinda.”
    • “And Allura’s a sorceress who’s over ten thousand years old?”
    • “Sort of.”
    • “And Shiro’s dead?”
    • “Oh definitely.”
    • “…Okay.”
  • So, yeah, Pidge now knows what’s going on around the house
  • And after a few quick spells, courtesy of Allura, they can see all the ~magic~ (rainbow, shiny, sparkly) they couldn’t before
    • That also means they can now see the fact that Keith has freaky ass veins after he brews a few potions
    • He can also see Lance’s gills
    • Oh, and the fact that Allura’s hair is fucking silver
      • “Holy shIT! ow the hell did I miss this?!!!”
        • “Uh, hello, Pidge, it’s me, Matt, you haven’t seen me in a year.”
  • But, of course, since Pidge knows now….
    • Hehehe
    • Oh boy
    • Buckle up, everyone
  • First come the questions
  • Everyone, and I mean everyone, had an hour long interrogation interview on how the hell they got away with all this shit
    • It involves lots of secrets, the occasional assassination, and  ~magic~ (rainbow, shiny, sparkly)
  • After that, Pidge pulled Shiro aside and had him explain how the fuck he’s alive
      • “So Keith … dug you up and force fed you a radioactive cockroach?”
  • Then comes Lance’s weird ass explanation of his powers
    • “Let’s see, I can make myself seem beautiful, though I already am~~~, I can breathe underwater, I can force involuntary drownings-”
    • “WHAT?!”
    • “-I can pitch my voice up to a C9, which is awesome cause it’s not even on the keyboard, and …. oh! And I can make people fall in love with me! That one’s fun.”
      • Which then, of course, leads to the awkward explanation of how he and Keith got together
        • “So, let me get this straight, you had a crush on him and he had a crush on you.”
        • “Yup.”
        • “But neither of you knew so Keith gave you a love potion, which then spurred you into pulling your charms and forcing him to fall in love with you.”
        • “Uh-huh.”
        • “And then he thought you didn’t like him so he voodoo’d you both?”
        • “Yup.”
        • “And now you’re technically soulmates with bound hearts?”
        • “Yeah … is that weird?”
        • “No, no, it’s perfectly normal - of course it’s weird, good god what the literal fuCK Keith?!”
  • They question Hunk next
    • The most they manage to get out of him as to how he does what he does it magic (~rainbow, shiny, sparkly~)
    • Shay and Rax don’t fair well, either
      • “I think I’d be more concerned about turning into an over glorified Chihuahua rather than exactly how it happens.”
      • “Speak for yourself. I always thought of myself as a Shih Tzu.”
  • Pidge tried with Allura but she dove right into runes and spells and they just zoned her out after fifteen minutes
  • Keith didn’t fair well either
    • “Why are you purple again?”
    • “…It’s an after effect.”
  • All in all:
    • Everyone is crazy
    • Allura and Lance blow up half of campus trying to make magical lush products
      • “Too much bomb, not enough bath.”
      • “Shut UP, Lance.”
    • Keith raised the dead
    • Again
    • Hunk accidentally runs around campus as both a wolf and a very, very naked man in the same night
      • Pidge was chasing after him with a net
    • Shay and Rax convince everyone to play spin the bottle and it ends with Keith and Lance actively making out in the corner while Shiro strips
    • Matt has managed to accidentally get kids ‘expelled’ ten different times due to his inadvertent need to poltergeist
    • Coran sees the future twice in one day and each time it included chicken nuggets, a thong, and one of Shiro’s detached limbs
    • They nearly destroy the world five times and save it once
    • That involved ketchup, a fourth wall break, and a klance fanfic written by Shay and Pidge
Happiness Is Homemade

also on Ao3


MooMaw’s kitchen is always filled with light.

It’s pouring through the windows above the sink and filtering through the blue and white checked curtains that hang above it.

Eric sits on the counter, right in the middle of a sun beam, and swings his little feet against the cabinets below as he licks brownie batter off a wooden spoon.

MooMaw has the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she uses a spatula to scrape the last of the batter into the pan.

The cord stretches from the wall and Eric extends a sock covered foot out towards it and tries to touch it with his toes.

It sags before he can get to it as she steps forward and takes the spoon from him.

He only has a second to pout before she’s putting the spatula in the bowl and the bowl in his lap and ruffling his hair.

Keep reading

Hands and Bread

It has been so long since the last time I watched Peeta bake. Honestly, for awhile I thought I would have never seen this again.

Until recently, he had some problems remembering his father’s recipes correctly. His hands hadn’t been as steady as they were before the war, before the hijacking. He couldn’t measure the exact amount of the ingredients and even if he managed to get something even remotely similar to the dough he had been making for all his life, it never were how he wanted it to be. In the end he would throw it in the garbage, or against a wall in a fit caused by a new episode. Sometimes he would just curl up in a corner, crying silently because his family is gone forever. Because, had the world been fair, he would have been in the bakery working alongside them, not in the victors’ village of a district destroyed by the Capitol’s bombs.

That’s why I’m so surprised to see him at work this morning as I get back from one of my first hunting trips. Apparently we are both getting a bit better.

Peeta looks up at me when he hears me putting down my bag and smiles, a smudge of flour under his left eye. Actually, there’s flour everywhere, on the counter, on his clothes and apron, all over the kitchen floor. I don’t remember him being this messy. But it doesn’t matter right now.

I sit silently on the chair across the counter from him, prop my chin on my open palm, and look at him work.

He dusts a handful of flour on the dough in front of him and goes back at kneading. By the look of it, he is making raisins and nuts bread.

It doesn’t take long for me to space out looking at his hands. Those hands that used to held the signs of a lifetime spent in a bakery, now marred by the scars of a very different fire. But still the same hands. Big and strong, with long, talented fingers. Hands that could create worlds, both on paper and with food. If he can bake again, maybe soon he’ll start painting, too.

I focus on smaller details. His nails are short. Not as cured as they would be under the care of a specialized prep team, but very functional. His left pinkie finger is a bit crooked. Perhaps he broke it some time after the Quarter Quell and it didn’t heal properly. The smattering of blond hair on the back of his hands and on his forearms is covered in small residuals of flour and dough.

When my eyes are on his forearms, they travel back following the line of muscles and tendons straining against his skin. I see a particularly fluid flexing whenever he presses the heels of his hands against the dough, another as his fingers reshape it into its original form. It’s a mechanical, hypnotizing movement. He does it so effortlessly and with such a grace that it looks way more easier that it is. But I know, even without looking, that there’s a thin coat of perspiration under his hairline.

It’s so good to see his hands not betraying him. It reminds me of a time before the Quarter Quell, when his hands were one of the parts of him that I used to be fixated on. Because of how they could knead the perfect loaf of bread, just like now. Because of how they could flow over a page and bring to life the plants and berries my father described in his plants book. Because of how they could bring me back from the horrifying nightmares of the arena, drive away the images of death and sorrow, lull me back to sleep. Give me the serenity that I so much needed.

I wonder, would his hands have the same effect on me? Those hands that not so long ago wrapped around my throat in a feverish attempt to kill the mutt, that still could smother me if an especially bad episode reared its ugly head?

I think they might. I know things have gotten worse for both of us after a second time in the arena and a war. He was captured and tortured to the point of almost destroying every shred of the strong, beautiful boy with the bread, and that is something that I will never understand. The number of people showing up in our nightmares is much bigger now, and they’re not just dead children in the woods that we had to kill to survive. Now they’re also innocent bystanders, people caught in the crossfire, rebels, allies, friends, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. But I think it will work. Perhaps it won’t be enough at first, there may be a lot of crying and fighting and yelling, but eventually it could be good. We could be good.

“What’re you thinking?”

I’m suddenly pulled back from my reverie by Peeta’s question. I don’t know for how long I was lost in it, but I’m sure that I was staring at Peeta’s hands all the time. The little smile on his lips tells me that he finds it somehow amusing.

There’s no stopping the blushing that I feel spreading all over my cheeks. I try to dismiss it. “Nothing. I can’t wait to taste your bread.”

“You know,” he says as he leans forward. “You can taste my bread whenever you want.”

Is this some kind of joke? If it is, I don’t get it. But Peeta is biting his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing, and a huge smile is threatening to split his face.

I can’t help but smile back at him. My heart flutters. He is happy, I am happy.

“Shut up and keep kneading, or we’ll never taste that bread.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He salutes me, leaving a new line of flour above his right eyebrow.

I shake my head as I get up to get back at my haul from hunting this morning.

Maybe tonight, when my screams will wake us both and he’ll rush to my room to help me, I should ask him to stay with me.

anonymous asked:

Tim fic prompts: just let him be happy please. tim deserves all the happiness. If you want something specific, maybe him being the annoying little sibling that he is (he's the second youngest batkid and is a snarky little shit he's probably incredibly irritating no matter how 'mature' he's supposed to be okay) or getting into silly teenage shenanigans. Or bruce being like. a good dad and not ignoring him that would be nice. hugs. THIS WAS VERY LONG AND IM SORRY AND I LOVE YOUR FICS! Bye! :D

Okay I know this was supposed to just be a happy, silly, fluffy Tim fic. And I promise that’s all it was supposed to be especially the silly bit. But then the idea of Bruce thinking back on his happiest memories of/with Tim after he “died” hit me out of freakin’ nowhere and the end scene happened… I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t just write happy things :(

There is giggling coming from the kitchen. Bruce pauses to listen some more. Another peal of giggles. He frowns. Odd. Alfred doesn’t giggle. Damian certainly doesn’t giggle so publicly. And Dick isn’t due home for at least two more days. Proceeding with caution, he slides forward on polka-dot-sock clad feet and peaks around the doorframe.

Bruce blinks.

Blinks again.

Turns away to stare at the painting of a young girl with a dog watching him from the opposite wall. "Am I hallucinating?“ he wonders.

“You are if you’re talking to paintings,” Alfred intones from beside him and Bruce refuses to admit that he jumps. Just a little bit. Mostly on the inside. The butler raises an eyebrow, very pointedly not smiling at him as he offers, “Would you like some afternoon tea, sir?”

Bruce follows him into the kitchen, staring openly at where his daughter and second youngest son are still sitting on floor amid a settling cloud of flour. “Hey B!” Tim grins, tears of mirth cutting a path through the white powder dusting his cheeks. He shakes his head and more flour falls out of his hair. Cass is leaning against his side, still giggling uncontrollably as she slaps a hand against her brother’s chest, leaving a perfect flour handprint that only makes her laugh harder.

“What-” Bruce starts, then realises he has no idea how to start asking questions about such a ridiculous situation.

“Master Tim and Miss Cassandra were trying to bake cookies, sir,” Alfred explains with a completely straight face. His pants are dusted from ankle to knee in the same mess that’s coating his floor. White footprints show his path from the bench to the door and back again.

“B!” Tim exclaims a second time. He tries to stand but the slippery floor and Cass’s grip on his ankle make him topple forward, arms pinwheeling. The movement sends him stumbling into Bruce, who automatically wraps his arms around him in an awkward hug so that he doesn’t end up on the floor again.

“Yes, Tim?” he replies, unable to hide the smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“I had an idea,” his second youngest tells him, rubbing his cheek against Bruce’s shoulder a little and grinning up at him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed red from laughing. Looking every inch his sixteen years of age.

“Oh?” Bruce prompts when Tim doesn’t continue.

His son nods, the action getting flour from his hair on Bruce’s neck and chin. “It was a very good idea.”

Bruce opens his mouth to ask what exactly this very good idea was when he hears a muffled giggle from behind him, the only warning he gets before Cass launches herself at his back. He stumbles a little under the added weight but manages to stay upright, Tim clinging to his front, Cass hanging off his back. Suddenly, he has a suspicion about what Tim’s idea was.

“Tim.” The teen blinks innocently up at him. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Tim’s grin widens. “White’s a good colour on you, B,” he says seriously. “Really shows off the grey in your hair.”

Cass hums in amused agreement, ruffling Bruce’s hair to spread the fine powder through it. Bruce rolls his eyes but he can’t find it in himself to be exasperated or annoyed, not when his usually serious children are so gleeful.

 And a bonus scene for anyone who wants their heart shattered like mine was writing it

“Master Bruce?!”

Bruce doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Alfred’s alarmed voice has his head snapping up to stare at the butler through tear-blurred vision. He wipes at his eyes hastily, doing little to stop the tears streaking down his cheeks, only succeeding in smudging more flour across his face.

“I was just grabbing the cereal,” he begins, hating the way his voice cracks. “I knocked over the flour, I meant to clean it up, I just-” His breath catches and he has to stop and compose himself. 

Alfred is watching him with sad eyes, the pain etched into his wrinkled face making it clear that the scene had reminded him of the same thing it reminded Bruce of. He steps forward, skirts around the powder and its shattered ceramic container to wet a cloth. “Why don’t you clean yourself up?” he suggests, handing Bruce the cloth and gently pushing him toward a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll deal with this mess.”

Bruce wipes the flour off his face and arm, dabbing at where it’s caught on his clothing, silent while Alfred gets a dustpan and brush and sweeps up the spilled flour. He’d done it last time as well, he remembers, sending them off to shower and change while he cleaned up. He doesn’t remember whether Cass and Tim ended up making the cookies or whether Alfred did it after they were banished from his kitchen, but he remembers eating them after they came back from patrol. Sitting at the Cave’s computer with Tim leaning over his shoulder, excitedly explaining how he’d put together the evidence to solve their latest case. 

He’d taken it for granted at the time, having Tim there, hadn’t even thanked him for his help, and now he’ll never get the chance.

wayward-hell  asked:

Coming to the drabble aid. Could I get some Lucifer love with either ice cream or cupcakes? Haven't read anything with either of those together before. Hope you have a great day, красотка!

Chin resting on his steepled fingers, Lucifer watched you moving around the kitchen as you mixed the ingredients to make a batch of cupcakes for the party.

“Such a mess and so much effort,” he said as he snapped his fingers and the table was covered with cupcakes of all flavors and designs. “There. Problem solved.”

Leaving a smear of flour on your cheek as you tucked your hair back, you looked at all the beautiful cupcakes and were embarrassed to find your chin trembling as you began to cry.

Lucifer stared at you as if you had grown two heads right in front of him. “Why are you crying? I helped you out.”

“I wanted to make the cupcakes myself. Gabriel loves cupcakes.”

Lucifer studied you for a moment before his eyes widened. “You are in love with my brother?”

“What? Don’t be stupid. You know I love you,” you snapped, tossing your apron on the table. “Gabriel makes fun of my lack of baking skills all the time and I wanted to prove to him I could do this so he would leave me alone.”

Lucifer was out of his chair in a heartbeat. “He dares make fun of you?”

“Cool your jets Satan. It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to prove a point.”

With a sigh Lucifer waved his hands and the exquisite cupcakes disappeared. Wrapping his arm around you, he looked at the recipe you had up on your iPad. “At least let me help? I am sure I can handle whipping an egg.”

I got some HaruMichi headcanons

Haruka likes to back Michiru into a wall and starts kissing her. And Michiru places her hands on Haruka’s hips and it makes her shiver.

Michiru reads poetry and plays by Shakespeare and similar authors and reads excerpts to Haruka when they sit on the living room couch together.

Haruka and Michiru cook and bake together like cookies and pies and they get into little food fights like throwing dashes of flour at each other. And when they get closer, Michiru pokes Haruka’s cheek lightly and leaves flour on it and Haruka doesn’t realise it until Michiru keeps giggling.

Michiru knows how much Haruka likes salads, so she makes sure to always have vegetables in the fridge. And in turn, Haruka makes sure that Michiru has her favorite kinds of tea in the pantry.

They always set aside a day out of the week to watch movies or go out shopping or eat at a restaurant, or do some kind of activity that relaxes them.

Sometimes Lovers (Mostly Friends)

malookiya said: Prompt: CS friends with benefits

Summary: She kisses him the first time because he needs it, and it continues because they both do, but as it does neither of them have an idea of where they will end up.

A/N: Well, this one ran away with me, and it is super different from anything I’ve ever done, but I have to say I’m actually pretty proud of how it turned out (all 7000 words of it – I’m sorry it’s so long). I will say for this one that I am not a smut writer, nor will I ever be, so this may take a different direction than you may expect.


She was sure there had been a time before she knew Killian Jones, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember it – and she really didn’t want to. He was the one constant as she bounced from home to home, the one person who knew that her parents – the sets upon sets of parents at homes that became more and more temporary – weren’t actually her parents in the sense that people usually meant by that word. She didn’t doubt that a foster family – or, if you were lucky, an adoptive family – could become your family family, but it just never happened for her. All she ever had was the necessary lie of I’m Emma, and these are my parents. That, and him.

Keep reading

Surprise Visit

Request:  Hiya! Can you do a Tyler imagine where the reader is a baker and she has a order to fill. So she bakes a cake for a client and Tyler wants to help her. So things get messy in the kitchen like they goof around , play music , throw flour at each other and Tyler showers the reader with kisses and grabs her by the waist. They decorate the cake and the reader puts icing on Tyler’s nose and licks it off. Just cute fluffy stuff. Thanks and stay alive. Love your imagines. ❤️

Tyler Joseph x Reader

word count: 743

Warnings: none

               You nervously paced behind your bakery’s counter; today a client was coming over to order a big custom cake. The bells on the door chimed, announcing that someone entered the bakery.

Keep reading

Imagine food fights with Chris.

With the sun relentlessly beaming down on your face, you were quickly aroused from your sleep. You were expecting a bad hangover after the night you had, but you woke with only a minor headache and slight fatigue; it was thanks to Chris, he had forced an Advil down your throat before putting you to bed.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, turning to reach for Chris only to find his side of the bed empty. You propped yourself on your elbows, attempting to peer into the ensuite from where you were. The door was wide open and you couldn’t hear any sounds, which could only mean that Chris was downstairs having breakfast or watching TV, or he and Dodger had gone for their morning run.

God, how he could go for a run or do anything physical after last night was beyond you.

It wasn’t until you reached for his pillow that you noticed the note sitting on top of it. You pinched it off the pillow and laid on your back, holding it in front of your face. Your vision was fuzzy because you had only just woken up, and because you weren’t wearing your glasses, but you could make out what he’d scrawled across the paper.

Good morning, my sweet,

Dodger and I went out to get some fresh fruit for breakfast, we’ll be back soon. The coffee’s on the pot so if you’d like to get out of bed to have some while you wait for us to return, you’re more than welcome to. I doubt you’ll even be awake before we get back but- better safe than sorry.

Your ever-loving husband,
Chris.

You smiled and stretched before getting out of bed, taking your glasses with you as you headed to the bathroom to clean up. You caught yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, noticing that you were still wearing Chris’ white dress shirt from the night before; both of you had spent it at the Oscars and its after party, which was where you and possibly Chris- you couldn’t remember- got ridiculously drunk. You pressed your nose into your shoulder and smiled because the shirt still smelt like he did; of bergamot, vanilla, and sandalwood.

You made your way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. You could smell the coffee even before you turned the corner. On the table was your favorite mug; Chris had gotten it for you for Christmas, it was white with blue snowflakes. You spotted another note with his handwriting, you picked it up and giggled when you read it.

Here I was thinking you were just going to stay fast asleep until Dodger and I got home. :P The cream and sugar are where they always are. I know it’s not Starbucks quality but I hope you enjoy your coffee anyway. If you need another Advil, take it.

You heard noises coming from the front door, then Chris’ voice and Dodger’s scuttling feet across the hardwood floor. You smiled and leaned against the marble counter, sipping your coffee as you waited for them to come through the archway.

“Well well well,” Chris smiled at you. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He kissed you on the cheek then moved to unpack the groceries. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be awake, I sent Dodger upstairs to go get you.”

“I could tell from the notes you left me,” you chuckled and drew one from him as well. “I’m surprised you’re awake, to be honest. You drank a lot more than I did.” You reminded him, putting your cup down with a thunk.

“You forget I’m a Bostonian,” he chuckled. “We don’t get drunk and we don’t have hangovers. It’s in our genes,” he shrugged nonchalantly and you laughed. “You’re lucky I made you take that Advil last night, otherwise you wouldn’t be laughing right now.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You hugged him from behind and kissed his shoulder blade. “What did you get?” You poked your head around him to peer at the bags that were filled with fresh fruit. “What are you going to make?”

“Pancakes,” he told you and you felt your smile widen. “These are just toppings. I even got…” He dragged out in a sing song voice, searching the bag for whatever he got. “Marshmallows!” He exclaimed excitedly, holding the bag of mini marshmallows in front of you.

“You’re such a kid,” you giggled.

“Gotta match my wife’s personality,” he teased then kissed the tip of your nose. “Shall we start?” He asked and you nodded. “Grab the mixing bowl and whisk, will you?” You nodded, doing as he asked. “Oh- and the milk and eggs from the fridge.” He instructed then padded over to the pantry to get the dry ingredients.

“Here you go,” you placed the needed items in front of him.

“Okay,” he clapped his hands together. “Let’s get pancaking. Hey-” he pointed at you and you raised an eyebrow. “No food fights,” he warned in a playful tone that meant the complete opposite of what he just said.

“Of course,” you nodded, biting back your smile.

Dodger joined the two of you in the kitchen just as you started mixing the batter. You had the job of pouring the ingredients in the bowl while Chris did the whisking of the mixture. You chatted about little things, laughing at events that had occurred the night before. You didn’t remember playing beer pong with Sebastian and Margarita until Chris reminded you; you and Chris were an unbeatable duo and Seb and Margo were absolutely smashed by the end of the game. You laughed, imagining how they must be feeling this morning.

“Hold it,” Chris stopped you and you narrowed your eyes in confusion. “You have something on your-” he dipped his pinky finger into the batter and poked it on the tip of your nose. “Nose,” he finished, biting back his smile.

“Wow,” you scoffed and chuckled at the same time. “Thank you, I didn’t notice it until just then. You know what though,” you dipped your hand into the bag of flour and grabbed a fistful of the white powder. “You have something-” you tossed it at him and he closed his eyes. “Oh, all over you face.” You said and pressed your lips together, laughing softly through your nose.

“Seriously?” His smile grew wider. “You wanna go big?” His hand dipped into the bag of flour and he tossed a handful in your face before you could dodge out of the way. “You have something all over your face as well.”

Dodger barked and drew both your and Chris’ attention onto him; the poor puppy was covered in flour too. You looked back at Chris and shook your head at him, “see what you did. Now he’s going to run all over the house and leave a trail of flour behind him.”

“Me?” He laughed. “You started the flour tossing, thank you very much. Look over there, look at all the flour behind you.” He pointed behind you and you turned. “Honestly, Y/N. It’s Sunday, I don’t want to spend the day cleaning the house.”

“There’s nothing-” You were met with another fistful of flour when you turned back to him. “Oh my God!” You laughed and he did the same, grabbing his left boob. “You’re such an asshole!” You slapped his arm.

“You look like a ghost,” he laughed louder.

“Well then you better match your wife,” you grabbed a fistful and tossed it at him. He dodged it with ease and snatched the bag away before you could grab another fistful. “Running scared, are we?” You challenged with a smug smile.

“Hey,” he held up the bag with one hand, “I’ve got the ammunition.”

“You’ve got no balls,” you placed your hands on your hips. “That’s why you’re cheating.”

He scoffed and shook his head. You watched as he slowly put the bag of flour down, the smirk on his face only meant trouble for you. You tried to make a run for it before he pounced, but you were too slow for the Super Soldier. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his front, nuzzling his flour covered face into your neck. You shrieked with laughing, hunching in his grip.

“Stop!” You laughed.

“Let’s call a truce so we can have breakfast.”

“Okay okay!” You cried out, choking on your laughter. “Truce!”

The two of you focused on cooking the pancakes without anymore flour tosses, and it took about ten minutes but you finally had a plateful of deliciously fluffy pancakes. You sat on the cold marble bench top, swinging your legs back and forth as Chris cut up a pancake doused in maple syrup.

“You are absolutely filthy,” he chuckled as he fed you. “How is it?” He asked, before taking a bite himself.

“Fantastic,” you smiled then dipped your finger in the bowl of maple syrup. “Cut me another piece please.” You asked and he did; when he looked up from the plate, you touched the tip of his nose with the sticky syrup. “Who’s filthy now?” You asked with a smug smile.

“I don’t know…” He dipped his hand into the maple syrup and wiped it onto your cheek. “You?”

“Chris!” You laughed. “You’re going to pay for this.” You jumped off the bench and took a handful of icing sugar and threw it at his face. Your jaw dropped when you saw him dipped his hand into the Nutella jar, smirking. “Don’t you dare,” you told him and slowly backed away.

You tried to make a run for it but he caught your waist with one arm and smeared the Nutella on your face and into your hair. You screamed and laughed and squirmed in his arms. He laughed and held onto you tightly as he dragged you back to the table to add a touch of icing sugar on you.

“You’re looking absolutely delicious,” he chuckled and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m going to have a lot of trouble trying to get all this mucky stuff out of my hair,” you pouted.

“I will be more than happy to help,” he whispered into your ear with a cheeky, flirtatious tone.

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling. You walked him back until he was half sat on the bench, you could tell from the smirk on his face that he was expecting something other than what you had planned. You leaned in inches away from his lips, it was a distraction so you could reach for the open jar of peanut butter and dip your hand into it. Just as he was about to kiss you, you scooped out a big dollop of peanut butter and smeared it into his hair. He made a face and groaned, pretending to be annoyed with you.

“I think you’re going to be way to busy with your own hair,” you giggled, biting your lower lip.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled. “Let’s call it a truce and eat ‘cause as fun as this is, I’m starving.”

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling.

You and Chris continued eating breakfast with maple syrup, peanut butter, Nutella, flour, and icing sugar, on your clothes, in your hair and all over your faces. As a materialistic actress, you would usually mind being covered in anything other than Chanel but it was different with Chris, you could be covered in mud and be comfortably okay.

“I’m going to go have a shower,” you said and hopped off the island bench top. He nodded and followed behind you as you headed for the stairs. You chuckled and turned around, stopping him with my hand. “Alone, Captain.”

“Aw…” he pouted.

“But you can go have a shower with the kitchen,” you chuckled. “It is dirtier than I am and I’m sure it’ll appreciate the help in cleaning it up. So…Chop chop,” you clapped your hands in his face and he chuckled.

“Are you really going to make me clean up alone?”

“Well…You did start the food fight,” I winced. “It’s only fair that the one who started it, ends it.”

“I don’t want to clean up by myself…” He whined and you pouted, giving him your best puppy dog eyes; his weakness. “Fine, I’ll clean up.” He grumbled and you smiled. “You go have your shower. Time limit of half an hour, please. I too would like to get all this muck off me.”

“Thank you, baby,” you smiled and pecked him on the lips before skipping out of the kitchen.

Roper’s opening night.


Author Ladyoftheteaandblood.
Happy fluff with Roper, Alternative fact Tom and a few friends.

Roper stared at Pine and couldn’t for the life of him think why Conny had let him back in.

“He’s glaring at me again” Tom yelled at Conny

“Are you surprised, you nicked his bed space, he was sleeping by me till your return” Tom felt guilty all over again and Roper growled at him

“Yes alright you furry demon, I’m well aware I’ve fucked up”

The black cat looked somehow pleased at this confession, gave Tom a look of disgust, a disdainful flick of his tail end and walked out the cat flap.

“With Roper gone it was time for Pine to woo the lady and try his luck”

As Tom said this he turned round to find Conny behind him

“Are you still doing a narrative on that poor innocent cat?” She asked wrapping her arms round his waist.

“He hates me, I look at him sometimes and the see evil intent in those big golden eyes. He’s just waiting for his chance to trip me on the stairs” Tom said as he hugged Conny back.

“Well he remembers all the night I was……..Upset and is plotting his revenge”

“So you admit he wants to kill me then?” the blue eyes sparkling at her

“Oh yes, you’re one cats hair away from death, so you’d better behave. This time Roper will win” she giggled

“On a serious note, he is very jealous of you Tom, even more so since your return, so be nice to him. He had me all to himself and now he’s lost his bed and half his cuddles”

“Oh I’ll try” and with a look that said he felt exactly the opposite, Tom made to leave.

“See you at the theater later?” he asked. Conny had been helping in the evenings with Tom’s latest production. Every time she left to go, Roper had sulked like he knew she was off to cavort with that man.

“Yes I will see you later, may even bring cake and cookies for the cast”

“You know how to get around a guy” he laughed as he picked up his bag, kissed her on the forehead and left.

Conny spent a very messy, happy afternoon cooking for the cast. She had never been a tidy cook and by the end of the day even Roper, who had come back now “Thingy” had gone, was covered in flour. He turned and left her to go clean himself up, making sure he did so on Tom’s favourite chair, leaving as much flour behind as he could.

Conny’s bag stood by the door full of cakes, cookies and books, some she’d promise to lend and two she was giving back to Mark Gatiss. Roper had a good sniff round and rubbed as much of his scent on it as he could, so she wouldn’t forget him.

The cleaning of the kitchen took a lot longer than she had expected, so it was a very quick shower before Conny had to rush out the door, throwing cat food in Ropers bowl and praying he wasn’t to pissed off at her for not giving him a goodbye tummy rub.

Outside she found Tom’s driver Sam, waiting, smiling as ever.

“Tom sent me. My lady your chariot awaits” He told her bowing really low and opening the car door.

“You’re as big an idiot as he is, but thanks this bag is heavy”

Sam took it off her, let her in the car and stowed the booty in the boot.

“Where to my lady”

“Oh take me to my knight in tarnished armour”

When she got to the theater, the front of house had that quiet calm that happens before all hell breaks Loose, the auditorium was empty and silent, the stage had its curtains open, the set with the props all in place, ready for the off.

The dressing rooms however were buzzing with activity as actors were transformed from lowly plebs, to hero’s, villains, kings and servants and all the other members of this somewhat mad production.

Mark Gatiss had written this play himself with Tom, Benedict and David T. in mind. He himself played the old confused priest in this mad old fashioned farce, while the three stars played eager knights jousting for the girl, only to have her ……Well that would ruin the end and we can’t have that.

Safe to say it had a lot of silly nonsense with swords, Armour, hiding behind bits of set, a priest, a medieval torturer, and men trying to impress a girl etc…

The three boys played their parts to perfection, and the audience left to go home each night with sides aching from all the laughing. The play had become a huge hit, with both the critics and general public loving it.

Conny would come in every night and help where she could. If that meant tea making, clearing up, or just fetching and carrying, she would do it. She really didn’t care what she did, she just love how back stage felt before and during the performance.

How the tension would build till the curtain came up. How each actor had their way of preparing before they went on. Some having an almost  religious ritual they had to go through, some listened to a particular bit of music, some you had to leave totally alone and others wanted to talk through their part yet again.

She put down her bag in the tiny kitchen, opened it, and was about to take out the cookies and cakes, and other goodies when a head popped out, very quickly followed by the body and tail of Roper. Who after taking one look at the odd surroundings with its even odder smells, shot out the door of the theater kitchen.

“Oh shit!”

Now she had two options. One, tell everyone a cat, a black cat to boot, was running around the theater. Or two, try and find the furry fiend before the little sod caused utter chaos.

She decided on the second but this could only happen if nobody yelled for her help, which of course that night they all did.

Tom had got part of his armour stuck and needed to be  helped out and then back in it the right way, which let’s face it, at any other time would have been really good fun as it was the bottom half.

A major prop had been lost, so it was all hands on deck to find it. Conny used the hunt time to also look for Roper but he’d had gone to ground and refused to be found. She discovered the missing prop in the fridge when making tea for a fraught cast.

A male member of cast was convince the loos were haunted, as when he was having a pee, he’d heard strange sounds coming from the old cupboard in the corner. Conny had a clue what that was but on further inspection, she only found an empty cupboard, apart from a decapitated mouse.

She made the decision to tell Tom the news and went off to find him,. She  didn’t get further than his dressing room door as he flew passed her with a quick peck on the cheek and said

“And we are off again”

Now all she could do now was pray she’d find him after the performance.

The play went like a dream, Conny could hear Tom and the others frolicking on stage and the audience roaring with laughter.

It carried on that way to the final act where our three knacked knights, having all completed their tasks, rushed into the throne room, on hobby horses, to each try and claim the hand of the maiden fair. Only to find it empty and all hope of romantic entanglements removed as she had ……Well that would ruin it.

There they stood, our three gallant men, ardour cooling in the cold light of day but ready to have one final battle with each other to the bitter end. Swords in hands, they faced each other, when a low menacing sound  could be heard loud and clear all across the stage and out into the audience.

Tom, Benedict and David all looked briefly confused then resumed the fight, prowling round the stage, about to do  terrible acts of violence on the other two, an armpit killing was due anytime.

The most awful sound of suffering came from the wings, as a scream was heard and two cast members, the Princes and her love interest the milk maid ( sod end ruined)  rushed on stage with no cue to do so, quickly followed by the castle torturer looking like he’d just seen death itself.

A sound of scuffling, the growl of a cat, the screech of a dying animal and silence. The audience were gripped as the plot thickened. Our three heroes looked at each other and then back at the wings, our uninvited cast members on stage were now holding on to each other. Tom stared at the burly torturer who decidedly pale, whispered to Tom “Rat…Large" the guy looked about to faint.

At this point on walked a familiar furry lump…He crossed the stage as cocky as you like, passing the surprised looking knights, carrying…Well more like dragging a large dead grey rat in his mouth. Roper looked out at the audience bobbed his head as if to bow and exited stage left, still dragging his spoils of war.

The audience cheered and Ben commented loudly he’d never been upstaged by a cat.

David looked at the happy couple and in his broad Scottish accent said

“Well ya can’t argue with that”

Tom gave up put his arms around his fellow knights saying,

“It seem our plans have been thwarted.  We should retire to the tavern men where wenches aplenty wait with ale?” The frustrated suitors headed off stage, along with the happy couple and the torturer still looking nervously around in case ratty had brought mates.

After the applause and bows had stopped, there was just the question to be answered. why was the play change by a unscripted cat?

Tom was strangely quiet as to answers and Conny looked like she’d robbed a bank. But Mark was killing himself laughing and saying he couldn’t have written it better himself.

Conny fessed up to her stow away pal, who was bought out of hiding by David opening a tin of tuna he’d had in the fridge. He said it was for a sandwich but he was known for putting stuff in there by mistake.

On hearing the can-opener Roper strutted into the room rat free and received his reward. Everyone praise the little sod for saving the fair maiden from the nasty rodent that had attacked her, her maid and the big strong torturer in the wings that night. He single handedly had saved the day. He gave Tom a look as if to say

“Who’s the star now Buddy boy?”

Conny fed a very pooky Tom cake, and he began to see the funny side as the cast happily finished all the goodies while giving heaps of attention to Roper. Who as it turnout was quite the spotlight whore!

Mark took loads of photos of cast and cat, and made sure that the opportunity to get some media attention for the play didn’t go a miss. Well it’s not even day a cat graces a London stage and not only upstages the cast, saves the maiden from a large uninvited rat and changes the plot in a good way.

Roper, when all the tuna was gone, and his audience were leaving to head home,  got back into the bag to go home himself with no bother at all helped by David, who he seemed to adore.

“Pine was yet again put in his place by Roper as to who was boss” Tom said under his breath

“Oh come on my superhero, just because he prefers a Time lord to a demi god, don’t get jealous” Conny said as she gave Tom a hug.

She went and picked up her coat from the table only to screamed loudly as a large dead, bloody rat fell from its folds onto her foot.

“How lovely, Roper gave you his Kill"

“That cats an arsehole” she yelled shaking her foot vigorously, as Tom graciously removed the dead monster, grinning from ear to ear as it was now his turn to save the maid. And he knew just what to ask for as a reward on getting home!

(Pictures not mine I just played)

@abfoster1s @ancientfinnishgoddess @antyc67 @archy3001 @aggro-femme @angryschnauzer @aliceada @anovinebin  @booksandcatslover @bluegrasscontessa

 @damageditem @dorito82 @echantedbytwh @eve1978 @feelmyroarrrr @frenchblondgirl @heathermc13 @izhunny @larouau12 @lolawashere @lostinspaced33 @maevecurrywrites @marveloznerd @mrshiddelston @october-green @oeffsee @ourladybinxthings @peskipixi @prplprincez @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @simonscat @servent-alearika @siyoteodiara @the-haven-of-fiction @the-lady-mischief @tinaferraldo @tomforachange @tomhiddleston-kikibfairy @tomkurbikston @neither-blue-nor-green @nuggsmum @lordjohnandtom @kellarter

@omninocte

“Daaaaaan!” You scream as you run from the kitchen to the living room. You are covered from head to toe in flour. “Why the hell did you and Phil leave the flour for your Christmas baking video on top of the fridge?! When I opened the door, it fell on my head!” Dan just looks at you and laughs.

When A Warlock Bakes

(A/N) - Here’s my fic in honour of getting 101 followers! And 101 posts as well, how’s that for continuity?

Fandom - The Mortal Instruments

Characters - Magnus, Alec, Izzy

Summary - Magnus bakes. Messily. Very messily.

Words - 982

Alec could hear his boyfriend humming from the other side of the flat from the second he walked in, could smell the sweetness of sugar.

“Magnus?” he called.

“In the kitchen!” came the cheery reply.

Alec shook his jacket off of his shoulders, shoving his phone on charge and dumping his bags on Magnus’s sofa. He wandered over to where the warlock had said he was, stopping in confusion when he saw a patch of white powder, shining on the ground. Sugar.

“Mags?”

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sherlockshuck  asked:

A) OMG Percival and Gwaine B) Please do a Helnik/Zelvar domestic AU with kids

a) not in that fandom, sorry b) here you go ♥ it’s long ofc. i shamelessly love prompts about the future that i can get sappy and cheesy with??? so thanks for this!


  • this is some time way into the future
  • like i said with kanej, a minimum of ten years after ck
  • and nina makes sure they’re definitely on the same page about how they would raise their kids first, particularly if they have a girl because…matthias was raised ignorant let’s be real
  • they’d have the nicest house
  • a towering three story made of scalloped shingle sidings and patterned stone. it’s embellished with those classic finishings like gabled roof, conical tower, broad porch, ornamental spindles, white trim.
  • no one else in the area has a house like this, they had it custom built, inspired by something they saw in passing once
  • matthias has his concerns when he sees the finished product, “it…looks like a cake?? please tell me the whole point wasn’t so it looks like a cake!”
  • inside there’s a lot of white and sleek lines and small pops of color in the accents
  • but basically they regret all the white because not only do they have a dog, they end up having twins
  • and once they’re toddlers, little grubby hand and paw prints are all over the white marble day in and day out
  • matthias runs around the house after them with cleaning products, wiping down everything they touch
  • they laugh at him
  • he thinks they roll around the dirt on purpose just to track it in the house and watch him in a cleaning frenzy
  • nina flops on the couch mid morning, “how are they this energetic? the day just started! i blame you for this.”
  • “me? what did i do?”
  • “no children of mine would ever be morning people. it must be in your genes.”
  • “i don’t think that’s how genes work.”

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Surprise! - Feyre’s Birthday Fic

Hello, hello! Join me in saying:

Happy Birthday, Feyre!

In honor of her birthday today, I have put together a little fluff fic. Thanks @her-misplaced-wings for making sure this didn’t sound stupid.

(This is not part of my writing challenge, which can be found here. But, I will put a link on that page for this fic!)

Summary: In order to give Feyre the birthday she deserves, Rhys gets up early in order to get things ready. Things do not go as planned.

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Christmas Cookies

“Oh no!”, you muttered.

You had been looking forward to the Macmillan Charity event ALL YEAR, but looking at the assignment sheet now, you couldn’t help but feel your spirit sink.

Someone had thought it was a good idea to put you on the Christmas Cookie team. You thought everyone here knew by now that you weren’t really good at baking. You were more the arts and crafts type.

You went over to the organisation desk. Anne Twist was sitting there, smiling gorgeously at everyone. Whenever you saw her, you found yourself hoping that, when you would be her age, you would look just as amazing as she did. She wasn’t old, of course, but she wasn’t twentysomething anymore either, though she didn’t look a day over 28.

You grinned at her.

“Hey Anne.”

She gave you a particularly wide smile. “Hello Y/N! It’s nice to see that you’re taking part again this year.”

“Well, of course. There’s just ONE thing.”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Um, so for some reason I’ve been assigned to the Cookie team and I thought, after the cake disaster two years ago, we had all decided that I should be kept away from any sort of cooking or baking.”

Anne frowned for a second, then her face lit up with realization. “Oh, yes, of course. Oh, I’m so sorry, hun, I must have forgotten.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Is there anyone I can swap with, perhaps?”

She didn’t even look at her list, which, all of a sudden, made you suspicious.

“No, sorry, Y/N. Most teams are already at work.”

She saw your face and gave you an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry! My son is on your team. He’s great at baking, sometimes maybe a bit overenthusiastic, but he means well. Just stick with him and things will be fine.”

You sighed and nodded. “Alright…I guess. Thank you anyway.”

“No prob. And remember, it’s for the kids.” Anne winked at you, as you started to walk away. You frowned. She was WAY too cheery. Something was up.

It all fell into place when you arrived at the local bakery, where the cookie baking was gonna take place, and met Harry, Anne’s son.

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DeanXReader

Request:  Idk if requests are being taken but an you do a dean and reader one where the reader goes on hunts with Sam and dean sometimes and y/n has a bf but is really in love with dean. They do the hunt and dean drops off y/n at her house and finds her bf cheating, leaves and her and dean end up together:) sorry that was really long!!! Love your blog and you are fabulous!!!!

Request:  Hiiiii could you please do a one shot with Dean x reader where they go to a bar after a hunt and the reader gets drunk and leaves with a random guy who eventually tries to hurt her, and Dean saves her from him and expresses his feelings for her? :-)

Request:  Can you do a oneshot with Dean and the reader about the song “Waiting for Superman” by Daughtry with a happy ending please? I love your work so much! Thanks for everything!

Request:  Monday! WooHoo! Please could you do a Dean x reader oneshot where they go paintballing for a case but the reader doesn’t dress correctly (like in thin clothing) and gets massive bruise and cuts and loads of headshots. And Dean gets really protective and shoots everybody and fluff and him taking care of her. Please thankies!

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anonymous asked:

Cooking a meal with harry would be so much fun. He'd try and peel some potatoes failing miserably and he'd just end up peeling off chunks of potatoes. He'd give up, eventually trying to annoy you while you'd try and whip up some cake batter. He'd come from behind you, sneaking some batter on to his fingers before swiping it in your nose. And just as you were about to turn around and scold him, he'd lick the batter of your nose, making you both burst into a small fit of giggles.

What starts out as messy and sweet and humorous soon turns into erotic and sexual and a little lusty. When you both begin to lick icing off of one another’s skin, leaving flour handprints behind on bums and chests, licking fingers and sucking thumbs, licking stripes up cheeks and leaving marks on necks. It all gets a little frisky whilst dinner is cooking in the oven. xx