lollercakesff

[lollercakesff]

Can you please say more about Katniss’s braid around Peeta’s fist, plz I’m begging-

In response to this post.

It started innocently enough when he was 10. He came home from school one day, puffed up with confidence and determination, telling his dad that he was ready to learn to make the braided loaves. He spent the next five Fridays waking up 2 hours earlier than usual to assist his dad with the weekly orders.

When he felt he had the hang of it, he begged his dad to let him take the task on by himself. He was sure he could do it and he wanted as much practice as he could get before - well... just in case...

Three months later and he was an old pro at this. He'd wake up at 3 in the morning every Friday, before even the Baker was out of bed. He needed to make sure he had time to prep the dough and allow it to rise before starting the task of braiding.

Once he'd get started it would honestly be really therapeutic for him. He'd shift the strands between his fingers in the quiet of the kitchen, with only the crackling of the oven as company. He didn't need to think about school. Didn't need to think about his mom. Didn't need to think about his brother Rian's first reaping coming up, with his one slip. Didn't need to think about Tayt's three slips. Didn't need to think about what would happen in two years when it was his turn.

But he couldn't stop himself from thinking about a pair of fine, gray eyes.

He couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to walk up to her at lunch, leaving the safety of his full table with the boisterous laughter. About what it might be like to sit with her in the silence, like Madge got to do. What it would be like to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear. If she'd ever let him unravel her mussed braid so he could fix the tresses himself, fingers skimming nimbly through the sections of her hair.

He focused his hands on the interlocking threads on the trays. He needed to focus on getting through all three trays before his dad came down for the day. He didn't want to have his dad come down and see that he hadn't finished. He might not let him do this again and Peeta HAD to do this. Practice.

Practice...

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It was...less innocent when he was 15.

It had been years since he'd inherited the task from his father.

What was now one of his regular responsibilities had long since become his favorite one. He'd stand there for hours, braiding the loaves by himself.

The scene was much the same but he'd grown taller. Not as tall I'd like, he thought to himself, trying to get Gale Hawthorne's towering frame out of his head with both resentment and a warm blush.

He had certainly grown stronger, though. The control over his muscles that he'd gained through a lifetime of kneading and years of wrestling working together to broaden his body. He might not be as tall as his brothers (or Gale) but he certainly showed them up in build and presence.

With five years worth of Fridays under his belt now, he was able to make quick work of the trays. Once the trays were in the racks and ready for his dad to put in the ovens when he came down, he had time to head upstairs for a quick shower before school.

He enjoyed these quiet moments in the morning. He knew that he'd have at least 10 minutes to himself with the precious little hot water they got before the rest of the house started getting up for their day.

As he rinsed the suds out of his hair he thought about... he thought about her.

He knew he was short on time but he couldn't stop the direction of his thoughts. Thinking about reaching over and tugging the hairtie out of her braid. Watching it unravel while she gazed up at him with those gray eyes. Feeling the strands of her hair fall between his fingertips. Her cheeks flushing while he reached his hand out to grab a handful of -

The knocking at the bathroom door brings him back to the shower. One of his brothers is yelling at him to hurry up and he can't quite tell which one it is through the rushing in his ears.

He reaches out to turn the handle of the shower all the way to the left. Cold water it is.

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

He doesn't know what calls him to do it, but he knows it's time to make the braided loaves.

It's been years since he last did this, he realized, as he prepped the counter area for his work. He didn't actively choose not to, but the less commonly used recipes have been locked in his brain for a while now, struggling to get out. Their connection to his father, his brothers, his mother - sometimes it hurt to try to recollect them. As if all the grief he held for his family was somehow attached to the flour measurements for a batch of turnovers.

But last night he'd sketched his father into the memory book and this morning...this morning he knew it was time. And it was Friday.

He lets his hands guide him through the work while his mind wanders. Thinking about all of those Fridays he spent his early mornings alone with the crackle of the ovens for company while his family slept upstairs. He thinks about the family he's built for himself and where they might be right now.

Delly, safe in her home with Bristol after having just moved in together two weeks ago.

Haymitch, probably just heading to bed. Likely in need of a fresh delivery of bread and bacon. He makes a mental note to head over and drop off a plate of food before he heads down to the bakery.

And just as his thoughts start to shift upstairs he finds himself momentarily startled by the soft hands running along his back and making their way over his waist to rest on his stomach. He doesn't turn around, just enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his back. Her chin resting between his shoulder blades.

"Did I wake you?"

"I was cold and you were gone."

"Sorry, I just had something on my mind." He says as he finishes braiding the last loaf on the tray.

She steps away from him as he moves the tray off the kitchen island and on top of the stove as the dough rises. As he turns to look back at her he sees that she's wearing his button down from last night. The sleeves rolled up so they don't fall down past her fingertips. The hem of the shirt skirting her thighs. Her dark hair falling down in waves landing below her shoulders.

It's an image he's been blessed to see before, but he still finds his breath catching in his chest somewhere.

She gazes up at him and her lips turn up into a smirk.

She reaches her arms behind her and pulls herself up onto the island. He shakes his head and huffs out a laugh, knowing that she's intentionally trying to get a rise out of him.

She pulls her hairtie off of her wrist and holds it out to him.

"Now do me."

His eyes glaze over for a second and he brings himself back to the present with a forced cough. He moves to grab the tie and slides it onto his own wrist.

He reaches behind her to pull all of her hair to rest forward, over her right shoulder. He runs his fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles from sleep. And from not sleep, he thinks to himself darting his tongue out to moisten his lips.

Once the tangles are sufficiently taken care of, he moves to part her hair into six equal sections. Then he lets muscle memory take over. Weaving the strands together while he looks down into her eyes. He notices her breathing hitch as his hands move further and futher down.

When he reaches the ends of her hair, he closes one hand over it while he moves the hairtie over his other wrist and into place on her braid.

He doesn't let go. Tightening his hold on the end of her braid while she glances down to look at his lips.

Feeling her braid in his grip and realizing that he's probably holding on too tightly for comfort, he loosens his grip to let go. Her hand shoots out to grab his.

"No. Don't let go."

She slides down, off the counter, landing lightly on her feet.

Never breaking eye contact, she moves down his body to rest on her knees. Releasing his hand only to grab onto his sweatpants to move them down his hips. Reaching to grab his hand again, she moves it to the base of her neck, where he moves to slide it down to the ends of her braid, rolling the braid up into his fist.

"Don't let go," she says again before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

He thinks to himself that Haymitch can probably wait a bit longer for his food delivery.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #The kinks are present

[lollercakesff]

As the show got officially cancelled i wanted to remind yall that even tho you will never see this men die in life action hes six feet under 🥰

[lollercakesff]

BROAD CITY: Fattest Asses (1.05)

[lollercakesff]

I’m curious to hear your opinions below.

#look i don't think she's an expert by any means #but I'm fairly confident she is not deeply shamed by it #i think she's aware and knows it makes her feel good but she isn't on a soapbox preaching about it's magical powers #i just don't get the shame part

[lollercakesff]

I’m curious to hear your opinions below.

#look i don't think she's an expert by any means #but I'm fairly confident she is not deeply shamed by it #i think she's aware and knows it makes her feel good but she isn't on a soapbox preaching about it's magical powers #i just don't get the shame part

[lollercakesff]

There wasn't the time.

#rebelcaptain #there wasn't the time #screaming

[lollercakesff]

[lollercakesff]

🫡🫡🫡

[lollercakesff]

DELETE THIS POST

#April Fools #finally a version we can unite under

[lollercakesff]

Words can't describe how much I'm enjoying this

[lollercakesff]

Well the story I was trying to work on will not happen but I read THIS post yesterday and I could not get the Everlark out of my head. So I drabbled it from my brain.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I look up at the sound of soft voices and footsteps, as the door to the diner eases closed. Who decides they need mediocre food that is eighty percent grease ten minutes to close? I can only make out three heads in varying shades of blonde that all sit atop mountains of shoulder. Then I push my way back into the kitchen.

Today has been shitty. Like wake up late, speeding ticket, car overheating all before my shift started shitty and it has just carried on from there. Rent’s due, tips have been meager and apparently dumping orange juice on some redneck for grabbing my ass was not acceptable retribution. My feet hurt and my eyes want to cross. That table full of assholes are probably drunk and now I’m not going to get home until after two if I’m lucky.

I could growl if that was an actual thing. Who growls? Oh right, all those well muscled alpha male protagonists that make me want to scream in every smutty book I’ve read lately. Yes. I am also frustrated with my New Adult Kindle selection. Where are the sensitive intelligent men that are happy to let me lead, but also want to go down on me like they would be happy to die between my thighs? Oh and who then make me pancakes.

Shit. I need a man who can make pancakes.

Pinching the bridge of my nose I admit to myself the whole between my thighs things would also be nice. How long has it been? Oh no, that is way too depressing I am not even going there.

Okay. I can survive an hour, and hopefully coerce these douche bags to eat quick and then it is me and a date with my shower…hell and my showerhead it has been a stressful day.

With a deep breath I set my shoulders and a pinched smile on my face and make my way out to their booth.

“Hey guys, welcome to Sae’s. What can I get you tonight?”

I don’t really make eye contact at first, just set rolled silverware in the middle of the table before grabbing menus that I tucked into the back of my apron. With a tug they come free but in doing so knock a blue and white walking stick or something to the floor that was propped next to the booth.

Rolling my eyes, I mutter under my breath and stoop to pick it back up and then start shoving menus into the hands of these blonde strangers. One, two, and after a couple tries finally the guy closest to me grips it. Pay attention asshole. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me? When I look at him he has on sunglasses. Nice. Hungover and wasting my time.

With a huff I grab my notepad and without looking up I take their drink orders.

Scribbling them down and anxiously clicking my pen I ask, “Okay the menu is pretty small do  you guys see anything you like?”

At their silence I look up to see two of the men staring at me with open mouths, but also kind of glancing at the youngest one, the one closest to me near my hip. I just stare back until I hear him chuckle softly to my left which gets my attention.

Keep reading

#i need the entire thing instantly

[lollercakesff]

ominous flask I found at a Goodwill in Phoenix AZ

[lollercakesff]

do you ever wonder if your choice of blorbo is random baby chick imprinting, or in fact a deep physiological profile that reveals all the things you need therapy for

#cool #it me

[lollercakesff]

I'm on the run with you, my sweet love [x]

[lollercakesff]

I'm on the run with you, my sweet love [x]

[lollercakesff]

NOTE TO SELF-SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!

[lollercakesff]

i love you. you made a mistake? i dont care i love you. you made a wrong choice? love you. you don’t think you’re good for anything? guess what you’re good for loving i love you

#love one another #it's worth it