#all brown sugar crumble

[parveens-kitchen]

Pear Almond Crumble

[thepioden]

Brussels Sprouts That Fuck Like Hell

Hardware

Baking sheet

Parchment

Mixing bowl

Software

1 - 1.5 lbs. Brussels Sprouts

4 oz. bacon (about 4 or 5 strips)

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 tbsp. brown sugar

2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar

2 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 tsp. ground mustard

1/2 tsp. black pepper, or to taste

Procedure

Preheat oven to 425F and line baking sheet with parchment.

Trim the stems of the sprouts and cut them in half lengthwise. Keep any leaves that fall off.

In the mixing bowl, toss sprouts and loose leaves with olive oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, sugar, and mustard powder until sprouts are evenly coated.

Dice bacon into ~1/2 inch bits.

Spread sprouts in a single layer on the parchment lined baking sheet, cut-side-down. Drizzle with any remaining dressing.

Sprinkle diced bacon over the top so it's evenly distributed across the sprouts.

Bake uncovered for 20-25 minutes, or until bacon is crispy.

Optional:

Toss some chopped walnuts or pecans in with the sprouts

Crumble some goat cheese over the sprouts when they come out of the oven

Add a drizzle of fresh lemon juice for a little brightness

Use maple syrup in lieu of brown sugar

Okay stop boiling your tiny cabbages they're nicer roasted okay I love you all mwah mwah

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #5— SALTY / theodore nott

december 16th

theodore nott x reader

summary: theodore is so down bad that he is physically unable to tell you when your cooking is bad…

warnings: fluff, established relationship

words: 1.1k

a/n: getting back on schedule!

navigation ficmas masterlist

Theodore Nott had always carried himself like a shadow. Quiet, deliberate, and never fully there, no matter how much space he occupied. That’s what made it so surprising when he fit into your home so effortlessly. Your family loved him—even your dad, who usually approached your boyfriends with the kind of silent scrutiny that could crumble a lesser man. Theo just smiled that soft, unassuming smile of his and charmed them all without even trying.

He’d been staying with you for a week now, his presence so natural that it felt like he’d always been there. You’d find him in the kitchen in the mornings, sipping tea and chatting with your mum. At night, he’d settle into the living room with a book or play chess with your dad, his brow furrowed in concentration. And then there were the quieter moments, the ones you liked best: him leaning against your bedroom doorframe, his eyes on you as you talked about nothing and everything, the easy silence that followed when words ran out.

It had been your idea to invite him for the holidays. He’d mentioned in passing that his dad’s estate felt empty this time of year, and the thought of him alone in that cold, sprawling manor made your chest ache. So you’d asked, your voice hesitant and hopeful, and when he said yes, the relief had been immediate and overwhelming.

Now, you were determined to make this week—this moment in your lives—as perfect as it could be. That’s why you were standing in the kitchen on a Tuesday afternoon, your sleeves rolled up and flour smeared on your cheek, determined to bake him cookies. You weren’t much of a baker, but Theo loved sweets, and the thought of him lighting up at something you made just for him was enough to keep you going.

“What are you doing in here?” his voice startled you, low and amused from the doorway.

You turned to see him leaning against the frame, his hair slightly mussed and his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweater. He looked so at home, so utterly comfortable, that your heart gave a little squeeze.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, moving to block his view of the counter. “Don’t look.”

His eyebrows lifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You realize that makes me want to look even more, right?”

“Theo,” you warned, pointing a flour-covered finger at him. “If you ruin the surprise, I swear—”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll stay out of your way. For now.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he backed away, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. Once he was gone, you turned back to the mixing bowl, your focus sharpening. The recipe was simple enough—butter, sugar, flour, and a handful of chocolate chips. What could go wrong?

When the cookies were finally in the oven, the kitchen smelled warm and inviting, the kind of smell that wrapped around you like a hug. You cleaned up the counter while they baked, feeling a little thrill of accomplishment. Maybe you weren’t hopeless in the kitchen after all.

When the timer went off, you carefully pulled the tray from the oven, the golden-brown cookies practically glowing in the light. They looked perfect. You couldn’t wait to see Theo’s face when he tried them.

You found him in the living room, sprawled on the couch with a book open on his lap. He looked up as you entered, his eyes softening when they landed on you.

“What’s this?” he asked, sitting up as you held out the plate of cookies.

“I made these for you,” you said, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Happy holidays.”

His expression shifted, surprise melting into something warmer, something that made your stomach flutter. “You baked for me?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Don’t make it a big deal, okay? I just thought you’d like them.”

“You’re amazing,” he said simply, taking the plate from your hands. “No one’s ever baked for me before.”

“Really? Nobody?”

“Not unless you count house-elves,” he said with a wry smile.

You watched as he picked up a cookie, turning it over in his hand like it was something precious. He took a bite, and for a second, his face didn’t move. Then his jaw worked slowly, his expression carefully neutral. His smile froze in place, but his eyes—his eyes gave him away. They widened, just a fraction, a flicker of something like panic crossing his features before he masked it.

“It’s… really good,” he said, his voice a touch higher than usual.

“Really?” You leaned closer, searching his face. “You’re not just saying that?”

His lips curled into a grin, even as he chewed with obvious effort. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “Theo, are you—”

“Babe, I swear,” he interrupted, setting the plate on the coffee table. Before you could press him further, he leaned in, cupping your cheek with one hand and brushing his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft, quick, and completely disarming. For a moment, you forgot everything except the feel of him, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the warmth of his lips against yours. But then a strange taste hit your tongue—not sweet, like you’d expected, but salty.

You pulled back, your eyes widening in realization. “Theo,” you said slowly, horror dawning on you. “Was there… was there salt in the cookies?”

He blinked at you, too calm for someone who’d just been caught. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god.” Your face burned as you clapped a hand over your mouth. “I can’t believe I…”

“They’re not that bad,” he said quickly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” he insisted, grabbing another cookie. “Look, I’ll eat another one. See?” 

“Don’t you dare eat that.” You lunged for the plate, but he held it out of reach, grinning like a fool. 

“Too late,” he said, biting into it with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Delicious.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, and he laughed—a low, warm sound that sent your heart spiraling. “You’re the worst,” you muttered.

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, “you love me anyway.”

You peeked at him from between your fingers, your cheeks still flushed, and he smirked. Damn him for being right.

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hi ivy love!! i hope you’re good and it’s going well!! i was maybe possibly wondering if i could request a theo not x reader with prompt 21 from christmas prompts? where the reader was like baking cookies for everyone? if not totally okay!!

i hope you have the best day or night ever lots of love to you 💗

christmas cookies and abduction threats

theodore nott x reader who stays up all night making cookies

↬ word count : 274 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : threats of being carried back to bed (for your own good), sleepy theo ♡

↬ requested from : this post which is related to this post ⭑.ᐟ

↬ author's note : hey lily, i’m so sorry it took me forever to get this to you! (ᵕ—ᴗ—) honestly, it’s probably the shortest thing i’ve ever written, but i hope it still hits the sweet spot for you! sending you so much love, and i hope your day or night is as amazing as you are!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

navigation┆theodore nott masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and sugar as you carefully transferred freshly baked cookies onto a cooling rack. The early morning light streamed in through the window, casting a soft glow on the counter. You hummed softly, already imagining the smiles on everyone’s faces when they saw the treats.

Just as you reached for the next tray, two familiar arms slipped around your waist, and a sleepy voice murmured against your ear, “Come back to bed. It’s okay to sleep in. I know you were up all night.”

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of Theodore, his hair tousled and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His hoodie hung loosely on him, and he looked so soft and warm that your resolve nearly crumbled.

“I just wanted to finish these,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I thought everyone would love some cookies.”

Theo sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? But you need rest too.” He tightened his hold on you, swaying slightly as if to coax you back to the cozy haven of your bed.

You laughed softly, leaning back into him. “I’ll be there soon. Just one more batch.”

“Five minutes,” he bargained, his voice taking on a rare, playful tone. “If you’re not back by then, I’m carrying you.”

Smiling, you turned to press a flour-dusted kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

But as you caught the way his soft brown eyes looked at you, full of adoration and sleepiness, you realized that maybe the cookies could wait. Just this once.

[cravefoodie]

Cinnamon Apple Crisp 🍏🍎

Ingredients:

For the Apple Filling:

6 cups sliced apples (about 6 medium apples, peeled and cored)

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tbsp all-purpose flour

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1 tbsp lemon juice

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For the Topping:

1 cup old-fashioned oats

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp salt

Directions:

Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C) and grease a 9x13-inch baking dish.

In a large bowl, combine the sliced apples, granulated sugar, brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon juice, and vanilla extract. Mix well until the apples are evenly coated.

Transfer the apple mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread it out evenly.

In a separate bowl, combine the oats, flour, brown sugar, melted butter, cinnamon, and salt. Stir until the mixture forms a crumbly texture.

Sprinkle the oat topping evenly over the apple mixture.

Bake in the preheated oven for 40-45 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the apples are tender.

Allow the apple crisp to cool for a few minutes before serving. Enjoy warm, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream if desired.

Servings: 8 servings

[nhaaauyen]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ FLOATING ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

and baby i know you // sugar sweet like you always do

modern restaurant sev x reader au!: after your kiss on the beach, you return to work unsure of what it means now for the two of you. luckily, sevika answers that for you.

series masterpost: is it casual now? wc: 2.1k author's note: hi i could not sleep so i did the reasonable thing and wrote a sevika fic at 4am LMAOO i also wanted to try the headcannon format but I have no idea if I did it right smh </3 btw this is a sequel to is it casual now?and i wont be posting until exams are done (booo) but I hope you guys enjoy!!

♡ the beach kiss with sevika was everything - it was passionate and perfect in so many indescribable ways. but after you both parted ways, you realized you left without actually discussing your feelings - which by the way, was such a lesbian thing to do.

♡ now you're home, sprawled across your bed, staring at your phone like you could will it to buzz with a text from sevika. but the screen remains stubbornly blank. after what feels like an eternity of hopeful glancing, you finally toss it into a drawer. out of sight, out of mind. 

♡ but when you try to go about your nightly routine, your mind keeps drifting back to sevika. brushing your teeth, you remember what her lips taste like, like weed and sour candy. changing into pajamas? you’re wondering what she wears to bed instead.

♡ your resolve finally crumbles and you retrieve the phone, fingers trembling slightly as you unlock it. nothing. you wait a beat, then refresh again because maybe the universe is just running a little slow tonight. but it was, in fact not.

♡ in a moment of dramatic self-preservation, you shut off the phone completely. if you can't see the lack of messages, they can't hurt you, right?

♡ you huff in annoyance, and maybe you’re still a bit high, but it hurts... real bad.  you throw the covers on and shut your eyes, wishing for the ache in your chest to go away because it was one kiss - one magical kiss where sevika looked at you like you held the mysteries of the world and only she could uncover them. fuck, you had it bad.

♡ morning comes, and you're spectacularly late. why? because high-you thought turning off your only alarm was a genius move. clothes fly on haphazardly, hair gets half brushed, and you bathe in perfume to mask yesterday's lingering weed scent.

♡ you burst into the restaurant 20 minutes late, bracing for your head server's wrath. when you walk in, all eyes are on you and your ears turn red, from both the embarrassment of being late and the incident with your head server the day before.  

♡ beelining for the back to clock in, you instead collide with someone at the door. and of course out of everyone it could be, it's her. sevika, the one person you were hoping not to run into yet.

♡ "pagli?" the nickname stops you in your tracks. you look up, meeting that intense gaze that sends your mind reeling back to yesterday's kiss. suddenly, you're drowning in butterflies and the memory of how she looked at you like you were made of stardust.  sevika looked ridiculously good. she was wearing just her usual uniform with brown leather suspenders and a white collared shirt, but her muscles were stretched under the fabric and you’re starting to wonder how you survived working with her in the past few months.

♡ you start to stammer out an excuse, but sevika's already grabbing your arm, pulling you into the manager's office.  "your shirt has a bit of something," she says as she hands you a clean white shirt.  you look down to find a toothpaste stain, because of course.

♡ the awkwardness is palpable as you take the shirt, mumbling thanks while steadfastly avoiding eye contact. sevika seems to suddenly remember the concept of privacy and excuses herself. post-shirt-change, you brave the floor. your head server makes only one snarky comment about your tardiness. in your book, that's a win.

♡ the rest of your shift is normal. well, "normal" if you don't count your newfound spidey sense, or more accurately sevika-sense. it's like your body's attuned to her presence - you know when she's at the bar, talking to customers, probably when she blinks too.

♡ you catch her stealing glances at you across the room, and suddenly remembering drink orders becomes impossible. you don’t know how many tips you must’ve lost today from having to repeat orders.

♡ the kitchen is its usual chaos and when sevika squeezes in to help, the world narrows to the points where she touches. her hand on the small of your back as she passes, the brush of fingers as she takes plates from you - the feeling lingers even as you leave the kitchen.

♡ you're hyper-aware of every little interaction with sevika. but was it all in your head? are you reading too much into things? the uncertainty is maddening.

♡ the dining room is nearly empty as you put away the last of the chairs. a glance at the clock shows it's almost 11 pm.  suddenly, you realize how eerily quiet the restaurant is. where is everyone? 

♡ your question is answered by the soft strains of jazz floating through the air. huh. since when did the restaurant play music this late? assuming it's a speaker malfunction, you head to the kitchen to find sevika. when you find her, she’s surrounded by an array of ingredients on the kitchen counter.

♡ "where is everyone?" you ask, confused.

♡ "they left early. you didn't respond when someone asked if you were going out." mentally, you facepalm. of course you were spacing out earlier, definitely not to thoughts about a certain manager. you gesture to the ingredients. "what's all this?"

♡ "well," sevika says, "are you hungry?"  your stomach growls in response. traitor. "looks like i'm making a meal for two, then," she remarks with a sly smile.

♡ "wait, why are you still here?" you question.  "paperwork," she replies with a slight shrug. "can't leave yet." there's a pause, a moment of hesitation. "you can go if you want, though."

♡ you catch the hint of uncertainty in her voice. "well i have to stay to see if our manager can actually cook," you tease. sevika scoffs, "oh, i can cook. be prepared to have your taste buds forever changed."

♡ you laugh, moving closer. "can i help?" you settle next to her behind the counter. "promise you won't cut yourself? i can't afford any workplace injuries." she jokes.

♡ you roll your eyes dramatically. "i'm not that bad of a cook, you know."

♡ "we'll see about that," sevika chuckles, handing you a knife. as you start chopping vegetables, your arms occasionally brush against each other. the kitchen suddenly feels very warm, and it's not from the stove.

♡ "you eat meat?" sevika asks, eyebrow raised.

♡ "yeah, why?"

♡ she grins. "good. i'm making lamb curry." 

♡"i've never had that before." you admit. "never?" sevika looks shocked. "it's delicious." 

♡ you shrug, a bit embarrassed. "sorry, i don't usually eat what we serve to customers." sevika pauses, studying you for a moment. then her expression softens. "this is actually a recipe my dad passed down. the restaurant just got a shipment of curry leaves and peppers for next week's menu."

♡ "oh? will i be seeing this on the menu soon?" you ask, intrigued. she smirks, "i don't know. will my first customer like it?"

♡ the look she gives you makes you fumble with the knife. maybe you are that bad of a cook after all. or maybe it's just the effect she has on you. you're stirring the curry when sevika leans in. "give me a taste."

♡ you bring the spoon to her lips, but in your nervousness, you bump her nose instead. "no way you did that," she says in disbelief.  “that was definitely done on purpose.”

♡ "i did not!" you refute. "oh yeah?" she nudges the spoon, leaving a streak of curry across your cheek.

♡ "sevika!" you gasp, feigning outrage. she throws her head back, laughing. the sound makes your heart skip.

♡ "you suck," you mutter, fighting a smile. "i'm sorry, okay? come here." she grabs a rag, cupping your face gently as she wipes away the curry. your hand goes limp, spoon forgotten as you stare into each other's eyes. her hand is so gentle against your skin, the rag somehow feeling rougher than she does.

♡ the oven timer abruptly blares, shattering the moment. you both jump back, a bit flustered. when it's nearly ready, sevika asks you to set the table outside while she finishes up.

♡ "just sit down," she insists when you offer to help bring things out. she emerges with two steaming plates and a bottle of wine.  as you take in the ambiance - the soft lighting, the music, the intimate table setting - it hits you. this feels like a date. but you quickly push the thought away. you haven't even talked about what that moment on the beach meant yet.

♡ sevika's watching you expectantly as you take your first bite. the flavors explode on your tongue. "this is amazing," you say, eyes wide. "consider my taste buds changed forever."

♡ the smile she gives you in response is brighter than any star you've ever seen. you continue eating, stealing glances at each other over your wine glasses, and you have no idea how to stop the feeling like you’re floating right now. as you eat, the conversation flows easily. "you know, there used to be a dance floor here. silco had a band playing next to the bar."

♡ "what happened to it?" you ask. she shrugs. "people stopped using it. probably lost the confidence to dance in public." you chew thoughtfully, then suddenly stand up. "come on, let's dance."

♡ "what?" sevika looks at you like you've grown a second head.

♡ "there's music, good wine, and we're technically on an ex-dance floor," you argue, grinning. "it would be a crime if we don't dance."

♡ she hesitates. "i don't know how to dance."

♡ "neither do i," you admit, offering your hand. it's almost like an admission of something else - that you don't know how to navigate this new territory with sevika either.

♡ reluctantly, she takes your hand and stands. you pull her close, placing one hand on her waist as she rests hers on your shoulder. your first few steps are more stumble than dance. sevika chuckles, "i get why we took away the dance floor now."

♡ you shake your head, laughing. "we're god awful at this."

♡ "i know, but..." she trails off, her eyes meeting yours.

♡ "but what?" you ask, heart racing. she takes a deep breath. "but at least i get to hold you." your heart skips a beat. you look up from where your head was resting on her chest, only to find her already gazing at you with that same inscrutable look from the beach.

♡ it was like a magnetic force was pulling you together. suddenly, her lips are on yours, your hand tangled in her hair. she leans you back slightly, deepening the kiss in a move more graceful than any dance step you've attempted tonight.

♡ sevika’s lips are soft against yours, and you can taste the wine she drank from before on them.  as you part, she lets out a satisfied hum that vibrates through her chest and into yours. you keep your bodies close, foreheads touching, sharing the same breath.

♡ "was there any actual paperwork to do?" you whisper.

♡ she has a sheepish smile. "you caught me." 

♡ "the amount of kissing we did compare to work is starting to make sense now.” you quipped, feeling her shoulders rise and fall with her laughter. wrapped in her arms and still high from the kiss before, you find the courage to voice what's been on your mind. "i really, really like you." 

♡ sevika doesn’t respond with words but instead, with another kiss. when she pulls back, her eyes are twinkling. "dido?"

♡ you groan. "oh. my. god." her laughter fills the room, rich and genuine. "i really, really like you too," she enunciates clearly, her tone teasing. "better?"

♡ "way better," you affirm, pressing your head into her chest just like you did that first time by her car. but this time, it's different. where there was once uncertainty about your future with sevika, now there's a sense of rightness, of belonging.

♡ as you sway together in the dim light of the restaurant, the soft jazz still playing in the background, you notice how perfectly you fit together.  you lift your head, meeting her gaze. the look in her eyes - tender and with a hint of wonder - makes your heart swell. 

♡ "so," you murmur, "what's for dessert?"

♡ sevika answers with a grin that is wide and full of affection. "i thought we were already having it."

[youaintnothinbuta]

If I start to drive you nuts with requests please tell me to stop. 😂 the last story was so cute though, just perfect in fact. Could I request an Elvis x reader where the reader is a home baker and maybe she keeps making different stuff for Elvis to try? Like 70s Elvis? I hope you’re having a good week so far. Blessings to you my friend. ☺️🙏

“Just a little bit more.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: fluffy drabble of reader baking and Elvis enjoying her creations and being all cute :)) A/N: I am now craving apple crumble so bad

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 732

Warnings: none! Fluffy Drabble. Hopefully no typos hehe <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Graceland’s kitchen had become your favorite place lately. You’d always liked baking, but recently it had turned into quite the passion. The countertops were perpetually dusted with flour, the air always filled with the aroma of freshly baked goods, and the shelves were lined with jars of sugar, spices, and all sorts of ingredients you’d started experimenting with. You knew the Memphis mafia would all be coming over (as they usually were) and you were eager to whip up a nice treat for them— apple crumble. The cinnamon and sugar-coated apples were bubbling away in the oven, the crumble topping turning a perfect golden brown.

As you worked, you hummed softly to yourself, the kitchen warm and inviting. The timer rang, you slipped on an oven mitt, carefully pulling the dish from the oven and setting it on the stove. You couldn’t help but smile, satisfied with how it looked. You grabbed a fork, scooping up a small portion, blowing on it before tasting. The apples were tender, the topping was crisp, and the flavors melded together perfectly.

“Elvis!” you called out, your voice carrying through the house.

In the living room, Elvis had been sitting with a few of his friends, joking around, playing the piano, enjoying the afternoon.

At the sound of your voice, he excused himself with a grin and made his way to the kitchen. You didn’t notice him at first as you were pulling plates from the cupboard, but you felt him step behind you, his arms slipping around your waist.

“Hi, sugar,” he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “Smells nice,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

You leaned back into him, smiling. “Here, try some.” You turned in his arms, holding up the fork. Elvis took the bite, his eyes closing as he savored the taste. He hummed in approval, and you could see the enjoyment on his face.

“That’s real good, darlin’,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You smiled at his praise, feeling a swell of pride. “I’m glad you like it.”

He reached for another forkful, but you playfully swatted his hand away.

“Hey now, wait until everyone else has a chance to try it!” you laughed, but handed him another small piece anyway. “Just a little bit more.”

Elvis chuckled, taking the bite and nodding in approval. “I ain’t gonna be able to move on stage if ya keep feeding me like this.”

You laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his dark hair. “Nonsense, Elvis.”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. The warmth of his affection made you melt into him, the two of you enjoying the quiet moment in the kitchen.

“How ‘bout we bring some of this out to the guys?” You suggested.

“They’d love that,” he agreed. You grabbed a knife to slice the crumble into portions. Elvis grabbed the plates you’d gotten out, and you followed him back to the living room.

As you served up the apple crumble, the room filled with appreciative murmurs and compliments. Elvis sat beside you on the couch, his hand resting on your knee, and you could feel the pride in his touch. He was always so admiring of the way you went out of your way to look after everyone, a trait you and he both shared.

“This is really somethin’,” Joe said, taking a bite. “You’ve got a real talent here.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit bashful under the praise. “I just enjoy it, that’s all.”

Elvis squeezed your knee gently, his smile full of pride. “She’s bein’ modest. She’s been keepin’ us all spoiled.”

“Can I take the recipe home to Pat?” Red asked, finishing his slice.

“Of course,” you said, your smile widening.

After everyone had finished, the conversation shifted back to whatever they’d been discussing before, but Elvis stayed close by your side, his arm draped comfortably around your shoulders. You leaned into him, enjoying the easy companionship of the moment.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear.

“I love you too,” you mumbled.

Later, after everyone had gone, and the house had quieted down, you and Elvis found yourselves back in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the evening. You were washing the dishes, and he was drying, the two of you working in comfortable silence.

[cailinsblog]

Baking Up Love: A Cozy Pumpkin Pie Date with Lando

Lando Norris x reader

The kitchen was buzzing with autumn vibes as Y/N and Lando prepared to tackle their first attempt at making a pumpkin pie together. Lando was fully equipped with a messy apron he’d already splattered with flour, while Y/N wore her own apron, ready to guide him through the recipe.

“Alright, chef,” Y/N said with a playful grin, holding up a can of pumpkin puree. “Ready to become a pie-making master?”

Lando looked at her skeptically, tilting his head as he glanced down at the ingredients. “I mean, I feel like I’ve got this,” he said with exaggerated confidence. “How hard could it be?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Y/N teased, already laughing at his clueless expression. “Let’s start with the crust, shall we?”

She handed him a bowl and some flour, and as he poured the flour into the bowl, a small cloud puffed up around them. He looked down at the small mess and grinned sheepishly. “So… maybe this’ll be a little harder than I thought.”

They moved through the steps of the recipe with Y/N guiding him and Lando playfully pretending to know what he was doing. Every once in a while, he’d shoot her a proud grin as he successfully completed a step, and she’d respond with an encouraging nod or clap.

“Alright, next step is adding cold butter to the flour,” Y/N explained. “Here, we’re supposed to cut it in until it looks crumbly.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure. “Cut in the butter?” he repeated, poking the butter with a fork.

Y/N laughed, taking his hand and guiding him through the motion. “Yeah, like this,” she said, helping him blend the butter into the flour. “It’s like you’re mashing it up.”

He caught on quickly, and they ended up laughing and bumping elbows as they took turns mashing up the butter until the dough looked just right.

“Alright, now we just need to chill it,” she said, brushing a bit of flour off her hands.

Lando nodded, but just as she turned around to put the dough in the fridge, he dipped his fingers in a bit of leftover flour and gently tapped her on the nose, leaving a small white smudge. Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Norris,” she said with a grin, scooping up a bit of flour in her hand.

He laughed, backing up with his hands held up in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey, I was just trying to add a bit of style here!”

She didn’t buy it, though, and before he knew it, a small handful of flour had hit his shoulder, leaving a dusting across his black T-shirt.

“Alright, that’s it!” he said, laughing as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and wiping a bit of flour from his shoulder onto her apron.

They laughed, both now a bit flour-covered, until Y/N finally surrendered, her cheeks flushed with laughter as they pulled apart. “Truce?”

“Truce,” he said with a playful smile, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

Once the dough was chilling, they moved on to the filling. Y/N showed him how to measure out the pumpkin puree, brown sugar, and spices, watching as he carefully followed her instructions. The sweet and spicy aroma filled the kitchen, giving everything that warm, cozy fall feeling.

“Alright, now mix it all together,” she instructed, handing him a whisk.

Lando took the whisk and started stirring, glancing up at her with a small grin. “You know, I think I might actually be getting good at this.”

“You’re a natural,” she teased, nudging him. “By the end of this, you’ll be teaching me.”

He grinned, and they continued working together, stirring and adding ingredients. Y/N noticed the way Lando’s eyes would light up with each step, how he’d sneak little glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking. It made her heart feel warm, and she couldn’t help but think how much fun she was having with him, even in the simple, messy process of making a pie.

Once the filling was done, they pulled the dough out of the fridge, and Y/N rolled it out into a circle, carefully placing it in the pie pan. Lando watched closely, leaning over her shoulder.

“That looks amazing,” he murmured, looking impressed.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him the pan of filling. “Pour it in, chef.”

He grinned, pouring the pumpkin filling into the crust as she watched, making sure he got every last bit. They then placed the pie in the oven, setting the timer and giving each other a high five to celebrate their teamwork.

As they waited for the pie to bake, they cleaned up the kitchen, still teasing each other about the flour fight and laughing over their mistakes along the way. When the timer finally went off, Y/N took the pie out of the oven, and they both stood back, admiring their work.

“It actually looks… delicious,” Lando said, clearly proud of himself. He leaned over to inhale the warm, spicy scent and grinned. “Who knew I had it in me?”

Y/N laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’m impressed. You make a pretty great baking partner.”

“Guess we’ll have to make this a fall tradition then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as they admired their creation.

Once the pie had cooled a bit, they sliced into it, each taking a piece to taste. Lando took a big bite, his eyes lighting up as he chewed.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, nodding in approval. “I mean, I knew we’d nail it.”

Y/N took a bite herself, savoring the sweet, spiced flavor and nodding in agreement. “We’re basically pros,” she joked, laughing when Lando gave her a look of mock seriousness.

“Next time, we’re tackling an apple pie,” he declared, his arm still around her as they finished their slices, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and laughing over their flour-covered adventure, both feeling perfectly content in each other’s company. The kitchen was a mess, but the warmth of their laughter and the scent of pumpkin pie made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

⚠️please reblog and send suggestions⚠️

[tokkiwrites]

CARE FOR SOME COOKiES?

in which Tangerine has had a not so healthy obsession for the girl next door for a while now & he finally gets what he wants.

tags: neighbor tan, smut, mean (kind of) dom tangerine, afab reader, sub reader, degradation, bdsm themes, dumbification of reader, unprotected sex (p in v) + more. just filthy filthy smut :p

the way her soft locks fell onto her round shoulders, covering her pretty neck. the way she always sheepishly tucked a piece behind her ear every time she saw him. it wasn't hard to see that he was long gone now.

the small crush has turned into something more. he hates it because he'd rather not want to fantasize about her all night long, but the thin walls provide him with utmost sounds when she touches herself late at night. it's not his fault she is so pretty and delicate, oblivious even to how she makes his heart beat so fast and how quickly he gets hard only at the sight of her.

he is taken out of his deep thinking state when the sound of someone knocking on his door causes him to jolt out of his seat.

"fuckin' hell, mate. who is it at this hour..?"

he rubs the bridge of his nose before opening the front door, ready to tear through whoever thought it was a good idea to bother him at 9pm on a Thursday night.

"the fuck ya wan-" he stops before he could finish his sentence, as behind the door was his dream come true of a woman. the smell of warm brown sugar and her jasmine perfume mix in the air, invading his lungs.

"hi, neighbor! care for some cookies?" she lets out the cutest giggle ever known to man, and tangerine feels like he could eat her then and there. she was dressed in a floral pink dress that reached her mid thigh, her hair in two messy pigtails, and splotches of flower scattered on her face and the top of the dress.

he looks at her up and down, quirking his eyebrows up before smiling and finally saying something. he was so lost at the sight of her. and he wasn't the only one in that position. y/n could barely mutter the words when she first saw him, only in a pair of dark sweatpants. no shirt, no nothing. just his perfectly messy curly hair and his way too good-looking mustache.

"hey, luv." tangerine tries to play his usual, confident and cocky self, which works because as soon as those words left his mouth y/n's legs felt like jelly, she swears her stomach just did a backflip.

"ya baked cookies, huh?" he teases.

"i mean...i tried! promise i didn't poison them!" she tilts her head up, trying to hand him the plate full warm strawberry crumble cookies.

"thanks, luv. care for a cup of tea? i think it'll go perfectly with your cookies."

she could die right now, cheeks oh so red, much like the strawberry jam in those cookies.

"that'd be nice-- I'd like that." she hums, nodding her head in agreement as tangerine motions her to enter his apartment.

it smelled so much like him. It felt like a big warm embrace, much like the ones she was fantasizing about all those nights she couldn't keep quiet.

" It's so pretty in here!"

" yeah, 's my mates work, Lemon. He has a keen eye for...decor, i suppose."

another giggle slips through her rosy and round lips. it feels like someone punched him in the stomach. and head. and heart. and gave him a magic potion because the effect this girl had on him was truly incomprehensible.

"uh- why don't ya sit down, darlin', yeah? and ill make us both some tea."

"sounds great!" she scurried into the nearest armchair, settling the plate of cookies on the coffee table right in front of her.

after some moments pass the tall bloke returns with two mugs filled with warm tea. as he places them down on the table he sits down opposite of y/n, his eyes never leaving her thighs, barely covered by that dress.

"so-" he makes a pause before smiling up at her "why'd you bring me the cookies?"

y/n smiles shyly before finally blurting out her thoughts.

"you always seem so grumpy, especially when you come home from work. and you seemed lonely... n i just wanted to sweeten up your week just a little bit."

someone better give this man an award for self control, because it takes so much will power for him to not just ravage the adorable bundle in front of him.

nonetheless, he leans his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on the knuckles of his hands. "oh?"

"that so?" he asks, a little chuckle after that.

"yeah...please dont get mad that i called you grumpy! and implying that you have no friends! its not what i meant, i just-"

"i know, luv, its fine. thank you for thinking about me. but you don't have to fill that pretty little head of yours with worries, yeah?"

that's it, she might as well let her heart jump out of her chest and run a marathon, because the way her heartbeat was increasing every second wasn't normal.

"can you at least try the cookies..?"

"yeah, darlin'." he smiles before reaching and grabbing one of the small cookies. heart shaped? god, even the cookies she makes are just as adorable. he bites in and his tastebuds are immediately flooded with the taste of strawberries, his eyes widening in response.

"a-are they bad?" y/n asks, anxiously

bad? that small bite tasted like heaven. he swears this girl is some kind of love witch.

"god, y/n. are you kidding? these are bloody amazing." after that, he started stuffing his face with more cookies, crumbs getting caught in his mustache.

"I'm so happy you like them..." her heart skips a beat, as she sips from her tea, so in trance that she manages to slip the cup through her fingers, splattering the tea all over herself and tangerines leather armchair.

"oh my god!" she yelps, embarrassed of herself, blood rushing to her face

" ya okay, luv?" tangerine worried, gets up from his place, grabbing a rag and quickly leaning in front of y/n "wasn't too hot, yeah? didn't burn yourself?"

"m fine, just embarrassed.." she puffs out her cheeks "even ruined your chiar."

"hey, darlin, don't worry, its leather, one wipe with water and its okay, yeah?

he reaches in and stars wiping her wet things with the rag, his rough fingers brushing agains her blushed skin. as he reached her inner thighs, he looks her dead in the eyes, only to find a flustered y/n looking at him with those doe eyes of hers that drive him mad.

without even thinking he presses his other hand onto her thighs, pulling himself up and hovering over her, his hands now gripping the arm rests of the chair.

how much he's dreamed of this, to see her all red and flushed under him, unable to say anything.

"y'okay, doll?" he smirks rather darkly, his face inching closer to hers.

she bites the inside of her cheeks, nodding as she couldn't believe what was happening. was she dreaming? was she imagining things? she caught herself off guard as she whispered bashfully "you can kiss me.."

"what?"

her eyes widened as she heard what she said, whole body now cemented in place by embarrassment.

"n-nothing, i-"

"do you really want me to, luv?"

she chokes on her breath, a timid yes slipping past her lips.

"i wanna hear ya say it, doll. what do you want me to do, huh?"

"want you to k-iss me." she couldn't believe herself.

this was it, the moment tangerine has been waiting for months. he has her now, and it'll take certainly more than a kiss to satiate his deep hunger for her.

"oh, luv. I'm so thankful you asked me to. i didn't know how much i could hold myself back."

he licks his lips, scanning her again, all stone still and flustered under him.

"when I saw you...the way you look right now. did it on purpose? huh? wanted to get a reaction out of me?"

she breathes heavily, before nodding her head, the hem of her wet dress twirling between her fingers.

"my sweet girl. you've no idea how little you need to do just to get me goin'."

"i d-do..?"

"you don't seem to understand, luv. you're deep inside my skin, my veins, my bones. you're everything my soul has yearned for all this time. since the moment i saw you."

he growls before finally leaning down and kissing her with an insatiable thirst. grabbing her by the hips he swiftly changes their position, placing y/n atop of his lap.

the feeling of his calloused palms all over her skin was indescribable, it was just like those many dreams she had of him. after a few more minutes tangerine pulls out of the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

he smirks, tracing y/n's skin with his fingers before speaking up.

"you wanna keep goin', love? want me to stop?"

"no! p-lease don't..."

"as you wish, doll. promise ill be gentle, yeah?"

he's interrupted by y/n's soft voice "please, don't.."

she gulps before finally continuing "don't be gentle...w-ant you to use me. p-lease?"

he scoffed, feeling himself getting harder and harder "that so? wanna be my little abuse doll?"

"y-yes.."

"y'know, y/n, never thought you'd be like this. i mean, you look so innocent and bubbly. but i guess..." he trails off before wrapping his large hand around her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear "-thats just a mask, yeah? you're actually a dumb pup who wants to be used, no."

y/n whimpers, eagerly nodding her head and leaning into tangerines touch. "y-es" she manages to choke out, before she feels a strong tug on one of her pigtails, pulling her to the floor, kneeling at tangerines feet.

"then get to it, doll." he smirks before motioning y/n closer to his crotch. "c'mon, dont make me ask twice."

she places her palms at the hem of his pants, before pulling them down alongside his boxers. she jumped slightly as she saw what was expecting her. she couldn't believe her eyes, how is she going to fit all that in?

"what's wrong, luv?" he asks almost on a mocking tone.

"t-too big."

"you'll manage." he pats her head before tugging at her hair again. she whimpers at the gesture before leaning in closer. looking up as if asking for approval, she wraps her lips around the tip of his thick shaft.

"fuckin hell-" he bites his lower lip as he simultaneously pushes y/n's head further down, making her whine on it "yeah, just like that. c'mon darlin..." his head falls back, hips buckling up into a steady thrust, the only sounds filling the room being tangerines groans and y/n's soft moans.

the few minutes that flew by felt like more to y/n, her jaw wincing in pain from the size of tangeries shaft. even so, it fit perfectly in her mouth, he thought -- oh, how much he dreamed of this moment, having her like this, on her knees ready to take him. his mind went hazy as he felt his orgasm approaching. grabbing y/n by the back of her head, he pushed in further, thrusting one final time before finally releasing himself in her warm mouth.

after coming down from his high, he looked back down at y/n. "fuck." he muttered as he felt himself harden again at the sight: her rosy cheeks tainted by tears, lips swollen, semen and drool covering them and her chin.

"you're so pretty like this, luv. so pretty with your mouth full" he chuckles before swiftly picking her up and setting her on the armchair, tangerine towering above.

"did i do good..?" she flutters her eyelashes, averting the man's gaze. he smirks, leaning down to trail his lips along her neck up to her ear. "so good, doll." his rough palm settles on y/n's tigh, slowly inching it closer to the hem of the panties she was wearing.

"y'okay, luv? you wanna continue?" he stops himself for a little "sure you wanna do this?"

there was a short pause before she finally spoke, "Please." he furrows his brows before smiling cunningly. "Please what, darlin?"

"Please...need you in me-" she whimpers, rubbing her blushed thighs together. he scoffed before finally ripping off her white panties clean off, pulling her down so her head was almost on the seat cushion. "All right, doll."

his fingers danced around her thighs before finally reaching her bud, glistening from how wet she was. he glides his fingers down her lips, letting out a low growl. "fuck, doll, you're so so wet. for me, yeah? my pretty fuck toy..."

"j-just for you, tan..." she leans into his touch, prompting him to plunge his digits into her warmth. she moans, a shiver running down her spine. his hand stars to move slowly -- one finger, then two...the third brought her to a haze, she'd never felt so good, let alone from just someone's fingers.

"there...think ya ready, luv?" he asks, positioning himself in front of her entrance. a soft "yes" left her lips before he pushed in, groaning from the tightness. y/n wraps her legs around his waist and digs her fingers into the leather of the armchair.

"f-fuck, doll-" he moans, indulging further into her, his lips wrapping around her neck and palms roaming her breasts. after a few strokes, he grabs her ankles, pulling her down fully on her back, legs now on both sides of his head.

she sobs, his large shaft hitting so deep inside of her it made her see stars. "o-oh my god-" she whimpers as tangerine becomes more erratic and brutal, plunging into her aggressively.

one hand was wrapped around y/n's ankle and the other rapidly around her throat, making her gasp, pleasure clouding her already blurred mind.

after some more minutes of tangerine ruthlessly using y/n as he pleased, she was reduced to nothing but a drooling, incoherent mess, just as he always imagined.

"in m-me-" she mewls "i want y-ou to finish-- in me.."

tangerine was feeling himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm, both hands now gripping tightly on y/n's plushy thighs. "i want you to cum on my cock, doll." he grunts "c'mon- for me."

her legs twitched, whole body going limp as she finally finished, her walls tightening around his winching member, causing tangerine to release, painting her inner walls with white ribbons.

they both pant, none of them moving a muscle. after a couple of minutes tangerine pulls out, making y/n gasp at the emptiness. "filled you up so good, eh luv?"

a bright red blush creeps on her stained cheeks, as she tries to close her legs but to no avail. "think you dislocated my legs, actually." she lets out a gentle giggle as tangerine picks her up from the armchair.

"Let's get ya cleaned up, darlin, then we can finally eat those cookies."

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎ 토끼's NOTE : sorry for any grammatical errors its also my first time posting here AAAAAA !!! this has 2585 words. hope u guys liked it cuz it made me feel some type of way lmao

[whimsigothwitch]

Mabon apple pie recipe

In celebration of Mabon next week, I am sharing my favorite apple pie recipe. I chose to share this a week in advance so that those who want to make it can prepare the ingredients. All ingredients can be plant-based, for those who are vegan the egg is not necessary (you may need to add a little more butter)

Witchy tips during baking:

Mix clockwise and say your intentions for the cake out loud, this could be "I welcome abundance into my life with open arms.", "I embrace the blessings of the harvest and celebrate the abundance it brings." or if you plan to share the pie with friends and family: "May this pie nurture the bonds of love and friendship among us."

When you sprinkle the spices into the cake, do this clockwise and say each correspondence out loud as you do this: Cinnamon: for love, and warmth Cardamom: for attraction and harmony Nutmeg: for prosperity and luck

Carve sigils of choice in the bottom of the pie before adding the filling.

Ingredients For the dough: 500 grams plain flour 1 sachet (15 grams) baking powder 150 grams of white caster sugar 50 grams of light brown caster sugar 150 grams of melted butter 1 egg Pinch of cinnamon, cardamom and nutmeg

For the filling: 1-1.5 kilos of apples 100 grams soaked and patted dry raisins (optional!) 1 tablespoon cinnamon (or more, until all apples are nicely coated)

To brush the dough before it goes into the oven: To give the cake a beautiful golden color, I recommend brushing the cake with 1 beaten egg OR a dash of milk of your choice before putting it in the oven.

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees celcius (374 F)

Peel and cut the apples into wedges, sprinkle with the cinnamon and the raisins that you have pre-soaked and patted dry.

Mix all the ingredients for the dough together until it becomes a crumbly dough (it should be able to stick together and not be too dry, if this is the case I recommend adding more butter to the dough!)

Grease a baking tin with butter or oil and line the bottom with baking paper.

Divide the prepared dough into 3 parts, and put 1 part over the bottom. Press this with your hands or a spoon with a little flour on it so that the dough does not stick.

Then take 1 more part of the divided dough and press it onto the edges around the baking tin. You can roll this out with a rolling pin and cut it to size, I think this takes too long so I just press the dough along the edges (about 0.5 cm thick)

Put the apple filling in the pie and spread it evenly.

Sprinkle the last remaining part of the made dough over the pie to get an apple crumble pie, if you want a lattice top: make a ball of the dough and roll it out with a rolling pin. Cut strips from the dough that are 1.5 cm wide and long enough to cover the pie. If you are making a lattice top, brush it with egg OR milk of your choice to give it a nice golden glow. If you have a crumb top this is not necessary.

Bake the pie for 40-50 minutes, but keep an eye on the pie because every oven is different! You know the pie is ready when you insert a toothpick or skewer into it and the apples can be pierced and the dough does not remain wet around the stick.

Let the pie cool down for fifteen minutes before removing it from the baking tin.

[jiminiecrickets]

LOVE'S LITTLE DAGGER: PART II. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung still hates you. he does. but you make him feel deeper things, and it's not just because you're buried up in his lungs.

wc. 4.8k

tags. smut | sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy tae, jealousy, mention of fwb!jimin, reader cockblocks tae once lol, alcohol mention, unprotected sex, 69, degradation: whore, slut (tae receiving), brat taming, rimming + ass eating, overstimulation + multiple orgasms, one mention of "daddy" (r. receiving)

[ part one ] [ requested ]

on the evening before the ultimate freeze of the universe, where even doomsday preppers have little power in a crumbled society, kim taehyung would remain a massive fucking dick.

this, like the inevitable heat death of everything everywhere all at once, remains a steadfast fact. his natural charisma – which you can't deny – would make him a leader in this hypothetical end-of-times, and you'd bet real money that he'd manage to swindle someone with a bunker out of it. then, of course, he'd kick them all out to feel existence die on their skin and hold his nintendo switch above his face as he lounges on a mattress.

welcome... to the check-in counter for your deserted island getaway package!

"taehyung! did you finish the milk again?"

"hm," he mumbles noncommittedly. he tucks his feet up against the couch armrest, squinting up at his switch.

you close the fridge with a huff and roll your eyes, disappearing into your bedroom. when you return, you're wearing a jacket, your phone and wallet clutched in one hand as you hop into a pair of shoes. you bee-line towards the couch and snatch his game away, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table next to him. he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"stop complaining. you have class in two hours and you're wearing nothing but your underwear. i'm helping."

he scowls. "i'm not going today. i would be fine if someone didn't fuck me into next sunday!" he hears you walking away, and he raises his voice. "i hate you so much!"

"just put a shirt on," you call, one foot propping open the front door as you pat your pockets for everything you need. "you better be clothed by the time i return. you don't want to be running when you're sore, do you?"

"i hate you!"

"mhm, be back in fifteen."

the door swings shut with a click and he scoffs, glancing at the blinking screen of his game. he folds his arms over his chest and stretches his legs out, smoothing out his black briefs, and pouts to himself.

what a jerk. so callous. fine – if you were going to ignore everything that happened the night before, so would he. and, because he's very good at everything he does, he's going to beat you at it! he's going to ignore you so well and forget all about how you made him feel and find another guy who's willing to take him to bed. given his looks, he doubts he'll have to go far.

game on.

—

there's a boy on your lap. he's pretty – real pretty, with plump glossy lips and long sugar-brown hair styled in soft waves back from his forehead. he's playful, grinding and swaying his hips over your lap while his friends cheer him on. some of the guys from the beer pong table have stopped to watch.

taehyung simmers hotly in the corner of the room, scowling into his red cup. he nurses his drink, which is slowly fizzling flat and warm – he'd snooped around in the mini-fridge of the upstairs games room and found an unopened bottle of solo, which he promptly cracked open and hoped no one would notice. it feels better to carry around than a cold, wet can of cheap beer.

but god, did he wish he drank something alcoholic. maybe it'd take the sting out of the scene in front of him.

taehyung knows the boy in your lap. he's seen him sleeping peacefully in your bed when he passes by your cracked-open door in the mornings, and rumour has it that he's trying for something more than casual with you. the sight of your hands on his hips, reciprocating his touches, makes his stomach curdle like milk.

but who wouldn't want to be with you? you're smart, and handsome, and you remember people's favourite meals and make it for them when they're having a bad day. a bitter taste fills taehyung's mouth and he can't stand the taste of lemonade any longer.

he tips out the rest of his drink and tosses the cup into the bin, schooling his features into simple, shallow flirtatiousness, leaning against the beer pong table with an arch of his back that shortens his already-cropped jacket and accentuates his ass. he glances aside, meeting the eyes of the blandly-attractive guy currently winning the game, and smirks, bringing his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the cups of beer, playing coy.

the guy's mates whisper in his ears, glancing at taehyung with glimmering eyes. he elbows one of them in the stomach at something he says and the guy doubles over with laughter.

taehyung remains pleasantly oblivious to what they're saying and watches the ping pong ball bounce, its tap light and clear through the constant chatter and loud music. he smiles as it bounces neatly into a cup and he slips his fingers around the one closest to him, since the other team look to be in no position to be drinking any more than they already have. half of their team are blacked out on the ground.

a body sidles up to him. "hey."

his fingertip glides around the rim of his cup. his gaze flickers up; he tucks his lower lip between his teeth to hide a smile. "hey, yourself."

by the couch, jimin sits in the bowl of your lap, a fan of cards in his hands. he giggles softly as your arms shift around his waist and your chin rests on his shoulder. he tucks the fan of cards into his chest. "you're not allowed to look, hyung."

"can't i?" you hum into his shoulder. "i thought we were on the same team."

"i can't trust anyone but myself. you're probably double-teaming with jungkook." he inclines his head towards the younger man, who's sprawled upside-down on the couch with his feet hanging over the backrest.

you scoff, hands absently smoothing over his thighs before snaking around him again. "he doesn't need my help. if i were to double-team with anyone, i'd probably go with namjoon-hyung. he'd make sure we'd win. i'd just be his cheerleader. minimum effort to emerge victorious."

jimin hums, lowering his cards. he smells sweet, yet smoky. he tucks his lips into your neck and you feel them curve into a sneaky smile. "i think double-teaming would be fun, baby..."

you chuckle. "of course you would. hey, look sharp – you're still playing this game. it's almost your turn."

when taehyung sees him lean in, whispering against your skin and looking far too cosy for his liking, his stomach churns. he scoffs quietly and glides his fingers down his plaything's bare arm, slim and soft in an elven sort of way – the way rich boys tend to be, having never done a hard day's work in their lives.

he's nothing like you – he's entitled, pretentious, grabbing and pushing his body around as if he owns it. still, taehyung leans into his shoulder, glaring daggers into the side of your head until it tingles down your spine and you glance over.

when you do, he doesn't divert his eyes, doesn't curl his upper lip. he just levels his gaze, lifting another red cup of beer with a pinky raised in a mocking toast, and turns away, dragging his plaything along behind him by the wrist.

he refuses to give him any sort of affection, any pretence of gentleness. all he wants is a body above his and a high, no matter how dry and bland it'll be. anything to take his mind off of the unfamiliar and unwanted twist in his gut.

he finds an empty bedroom quickly – it's almost as if he's developed a sixth sense for them. he sets the cup of untouched alcohol on a chest of drawers and easily rolls into routine with the guy he'd stolen from the beer pong table – shirts off, shoes off, thoughts off.

the guy leans down to kiss him – he turns his head, letting his lips fall on the corner of his mouth instead. taehyung's down to his briefs, laying still on his back as the vaguely-familiar young man above him grinds against his ass, mostly dressed except for his shirt.

at least one of them is excited. he didn't even bother taking off his jeans – just unzipped his fly.

with a creak, the door opens, and yellow hallway light floods the room. taehyung doesn't lift his gaze from the dark corner of the room, examining the branches of a crack in the plain wallpaper.

"hey! what the fuck, man? room's taken, can't you see?"

"get off of him."

"what?"

"i said: get off of him, asshole. he's drunk – can't you see?"

stubbornly, taehyung shuts his eyes as he feels the body on top of him stumble, leaving him entirely. his skin prickles with the chill.

"he literally dragged me here, what's your damn problem? don't you hate this guy? look, man, just leave right now and i'll forget this ever happened, alright?"

"put your clothes on. he's going home."

evidently, he doesn't think taehyung's worth any more arguing, and he mutters as he picks his clothes up off of the floor and shuffles away. he doesn't close the door behind him, so you do it instead. the lock clicks. when you turn back around, you nearly jump out of your skin – taehyung stands upright three feet away, staring silently up at you.

"fucking – don't do that," you scold, taking his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed. he watches with furrowed brows as you move across the room, folding his clothes over your arm. you even grab his shoes for him, dropping them by his feet.

"arms out," you instruct, holding out his jacket. you're not going to even attempt his shirt – it has more buckles and straps than you can count and he'd be pissed if you managed to ruin it.

he just stares up at you, utterly confused.

"lift your arms, taehyung," you repeat, gently sliding his hands through the sleeves. he lets you, staring at the side of your face.

"okay. time to get your pants on."

his lips part. "i'm not drunk."

"mhm. stand up."

"no, really," he protests, grabbing your wrists before you can tug him to his feet. "i haven't had a sip tonight."

you glance at him. "you were holding a beer. you looked like you were drinking from it."

"i was just holding it." he shrugs. "i don't like beer – it tastes disgusting."

"oh." you lean back. "so... why'd you let me kick that guy out?"

he smiles wryly. "i wanted to see what'd happen."

"uh-huh. well, i can call him back, if you want."

his hand shoots out to grab your sleeve. "no," he says quickly. "i don't want him."

"no?"

"no." his grip loosens and he glances away, fisting the bedsheets below him. "sorry for scaring you. you can go back to jaemin, or whatever his name is. i'll get home fine on my own."

"jimin," you correct. your brows furrow. "wait... taehyung, are you jealous?"

"fucking no," he snaps, far too quickly.

a grin grows on your features. a glint returns to your eye as you place your hands on your hips. "holy fucking shit. you are. kim fucking taehyung is jealous over me." you bark out a laugh, turning away to amuse yourself with a bunch of skincare pots and tubes on the dresser nearby. "my dick that good, huh?"

his face burns. "shut the fuck up! it was average, at best. having a big cock doesn't mean you know how to use it."

you toss a pot of moisturiser in the air, catching it before placing it back. you saunter over to taehyung, whose arms are crossed over his chest petulantly. you lean down to his level. "and who was the one screaming for more, hm? you really think i believe it when you say i was just some average lay?"

he shoots to his feet and jabs you in the chest. "you were," he snarls. "i was being gracious. your technique's sloppy and it's like you'd never touched a guy before. you're lucky i was so pent-up – that's the only reason i finished at all."

your smirk widens and your gaze flickers over his body. his hair pricks on end with a shiver. you lean in, not quite touching him – as if there's an invisible layer separating you from him, a glass case for the piece of art. your breath is hot against the shell of his ear.

"really? so if i was to, say, start taking off my clothes... you wouldn't be interested?"

his breath hitches. he says nothing.

"is that a no, sweet thing?"

"no," he breathes. "it's not."

you lean back and your lips turn up. his body yearns for your warmth, goosebumps shivering over his skin. "don't worry, taehyung. i didn't expect an answer – you take an awful long time to do things, and it really shows when you're getting second place on the class leaderboard."

his head snaps towards you. he grabs your shirt and yanks you onto the bed, throwing a leg over your lap. his brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. "bringing our scores into this?" he hisses. "low fucking blow, ln. fine – i'll show you slow."

he pushes your shirt up over your stomach, scraping his nails over your hips as he loosens your belt and unzips your fly. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch with a smirk as he takes you out of your pants, stroking and squeezing with reverence that he tries to hide.

it doesn't work very well. you can see the way he stares at it as it hardens in his palm, his gaze heavy and wanting with a flush to his cheeks. he kisses the tip, suckling on it as he dips his tongue into the slit, and groans softly as he trails his wet tongue down the underside along the veins, fisting it and swiping his thumb over the tip as he takes your balls into his mouth, one at a time.

you curse and tangle your hand in his hair. his mouth is hot and wet, his breath warm as he pants against the base of your cock, staring up at you with smoky eyes and ruby lips. he sucks softly, dragging his tongue along the velvety skin, and closes his eyes as you groan his name. he hums softly in acknowledgement, moving back to your cockhead. he lavishes his attention upon it, lapping at it and sucking gently on just the first few inches – he teases the rest, pumping it and twisting his wrist expertly.

you chuckle as he moans, his hips swaying in the air. you toss off your shirt. "you're enjoying this a little too much. fuckin' whore, getting off to this..."

he moans again, sharper this time. he doesn't even dispute it. he chokes down a few inches of your cock and your head falls back as his tight throat pulses around you.

it's almost funny how quickly he's abandoned the idea of teasing you. no more slow jerks of his wrist, no more kitten licks – he's fucking gulping you down, moaning quietly as saliva drips down his knuckles.

shit. you suck in a breath through your teeth. he's really fucking good at taking you. it's like magic, watching the inches disappear down his warm throat.

he only begins to slow down when he reaches the base of your cock, his fingers pumping it shallowly. his jaw is stretched wide around you, the vibrations of his moans through your cock sinful – his tight throat strokes you, closing around you, and he doesn't seem to care that he's gagging on it, bobbing his head to a quick, steady beat. he thrusts against air.

you lick your lips, finding your voice. when it comes out, it's raspy – hungrier than you want it to be. "fuck, sweetheart – c'mere. wanna taste you, too."

he pops off with a slick sound, panting against your shaft. his lips shine with saliva. he grins, breathless, and shimmies out of his tight briefs – he groans in relief when he frees his cock, wet and throbbing. he clambers on top of you, the air hot and thick – all attempts at smooth seduction are forgotten. he's messy, hungry, and so, so human.

you grin as he arches his back, his knees beside your head. from the way he's holding his hips, you can tell he expects you to give his cock a little love – but you like to subvert expectations, and instead, you grab his slim hips and drag his ass towards your face.

he startles, arching to glance back at you. you grin, eyes glinting, and lick a long stripe over his asshole.

his hips jerk. he moans, turning back to your cock, and kisses the tip with soft warm lips, precum beading at the slit.

you hum, fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass. two of your fingers slip easily into him – either he's been playing with himself, or his body is still recuperating from your extensive loving the night before. either way, he moans loudly around your cock, rocking his hips down onto your fingers.

"pretty," you muse, watching the way he clenches around your fingers. "arch your back a little more, slut."

he gasps as your tongue laps at his rim. "f-fuck – eat me out properly, damn it! if you're gonna talk big game, you – mngh—!"

you can't reply because you've got your tongue in his ass. you'd smile at the absurdity of it all if you could – the boy you've been butting heads with all year sounds much better crying out for you.

you don't even know why he's being a little jealous baby. he could've just asked – there is no universe in which you'd turn down fucking kim taehyung.

but he's stubborn and a cocky sonovabitch. you can't say that it's not a little cute: angry pretty boys standing their ground, firm in their beliefs until they get so flustered they forget what their next argument is.

and kim taehyung is flustered. he's whining into your thigh, gripping your hip so tightly you think he's drawing blood. he rocks his hips onto your tongue, his ass clenching around it, and buries his hot face into your hip, panting and swearing his pretty little head off as his cock spurts and pulses hotly, overexcited.

arousal curls in your stomach as he drags your cock against his lips, sinking down on it to muffle his own moans. you buck your hips into his mouth and while he gags, he lowers himself further, one shaky hand cupping your balls, and bobs his head desperately, silky lips dragging against the veins of your cock. he swallows you deeper as your cock pulses and twitches against the tight walls of his throat.

you come without warning. serves him right, the attention whore, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he seems to like it, moaning and whining around your cock as he struggles to keep it all in. he fails eventually, hot cum dripping down the corner of his lips as he glides off your cock with a wet kiss. his cock twitches, already wanting more.

you tease him, dragging out his orgasm as he grinds into your face. the warm weight of his body grows as he slumps onto you and you can't be annoyed at the fact that he's only loosely gripping your cock, too busy basking in his own afterglow. his breath is warm and quick against it.

you draw away, shifting under him as you guide him into your lap. he shivers, still a little dazed, but manages to find your hand in the tangle of limbs. he entwines his fingers with yours, his pounding heart fluttering in his chest.

he presses his lips to your neck, pushing you down against the bed – to your surprise, he tugs off your pants and underwear entirely, leaving you just as naked as he.

"was bothering me," he rasps, kissing your cock. he crawls up your body again, hovering over you face-to-face. "eat me out again."

"mh, would love to. just tell me when you wanna." you stroke his sides.

he tilts his head, those dark eyes clearing of their fog. "no, i'm not talking about a few days in the future or whatever. i'm talking now. i want your tongue in me right fucking now, baby – want you to make me come again with that silver tongue of yours." he grazes your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "i like it better like this than down his throat."

you snicker, flipping your bodies over and hovering over him instead. you've done it in a way where he's on his stomach. "jealous bitch, aren't you?"

"says the one who calls me 'puppy'," he growls, eyes flashing. he leans into the pillows, his eyes challenging, and he spreads his legs, placing one hand high on his ass as he lifts his hips. "now stop yapping and fuck me, ln."

"sir, yes, sir," you tease. he feels your presence drift lower until your hands spread his ass.

at first, he entertains some degree of control, fucking himself back on your tongue as you groan into his skin, pulling his hips closer. he enjoys a second high, untouched, but you've grown curious. how many times can you make the infamous playboy come?

the answer: a lot. you just can't expect him to keep his wits about him after a few.

he's been on his knees for so long that they're beginning to hurt, even on the mattress. the discomfort, however, is far outweighed by your ravenous hunger – he can't stop crying out for you, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to fuck him stupid. you'd even started to pump his cock for him – he'd almost cried, throwing his head back with a whiny babble.

more, more, more. he'd begged for it – he knew this, somewhere at the back of his mind. he'd heard his own voice, usually so strong and steady, reduced to a crumbling whimper, collapsing in on itself as you pumped three fingers in and out of his wet hole, messy with lube and saliva.

you'd never seen him like this before. you never thought he could get like this – teary-eyed, flushed dark pink from head to toe, gaze faraway and hazy, focussed on nothing in particular even when you muse aloud about his latest academic losses. all he does is whine, trembling, and reach back blindly for your cock, groping and grabbing.

he pants over his shoulder. his red hair is coppery where it sticks to his skin, shining with a thin layer of sweat.

"please," he begs, grinding messily against your cock. "p-please, please..."

taehyung is gorgeous when he lets go. when your cock glides in with no resistance, his walls soft and hot around you, his eyes roll back into his skull, and he lets out a soft, thankful sob. his chest heaves as you push in deeper, testing how much he can take, and all he does is grab your hip, nails clawing at it as if he'd die otherwise.

his hole is sloppy with lube. you press your nose to his collarbone, groaning softly as he clamps around you.

his fingers dig into the white bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on remembering how to breathe. your cock grinds against his swollen prostate and he keens – his voice cracks as he whines into the pillows. you hush him, your hips moving quickly.

"daddy," he sobs, and by his tightening sides, you know he's close. his cock leaks like a broken faucet, bobbing between his messy thighs. his eyes roll back and he grips handfuls of the bedsheets. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

he dissolves into a babbling mess. you groan into his shoulder, kissing the freckles smattered across it, and chuckle softly. "what a basic-bitch thing to like, sweetheart. it's almost cute."

he whimpers in response, his body jostling harshly. you grab his hip, forcing him to rock back onto you, and he drawls out a long, broken moan.

"takin' my cock so well, baby," you whisper, feeling his sides tense up at the praise. "like you were made to take it."

"mmh – mhm," he slurs out, spine arching and ass pressing deeper against your hips. he sucks his swollen lower lip between his teeth. he doesn't say anything else for a long time, losing himself in your constant gentle caresses.

despite biting his lower lip in an effort to quieten himself, his mouth soon hangs open, slick lips parted to loose loud, punched moans from deep in his belly. they're cute, quavering. he sounds as if he's about to burst into tears.

"g-gonna..." his fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white. your cock glides in and out of his slick asshole, punching the air out of his lungs on every snap of your hips. he can't fucking breathe; it feels too good. "'m gonna...!"

"not until you make me come," you demand, your voice growing breathier by the second. your thrusts grow heavier, messier, and his voice cracks through a cry. "else i might decide jimin deserves my cock more, slut."

he squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. he moans as he throws his ass back on your cock, piercing himself again and again and again with the wet smack of skin on skin. when you come with a groan, he loses it – he hiccups past a cry of your name, nails digging painfully into the bedsheets. he comes so hard stars explode behind his eyelids and in his veins.

his body quivers as you fuck him lazily, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you fill him up. your cock pulses inside him, thick and warm – he trembles, burying his face in the pillows, and lifts himself slightly on weak arms, pushing his back and shoulders against the numbing heat of your body.

with a shaky sigh, he leans back against you and you press your lips against his shoulder, securing his tingling body with one firm, steady hand. his hips jerk, his body still not finished with the aftershocks of his high, and you hush him, caressing his hip. his heart pounds beneath his ribs as if he's sprinted a marathon.

it takes a long time for him to blink awake from his whiteout daze, control returning to his limbs. he hums sleepily into your skin, his head propped up on your chest.

"fucking hell," he whispers wearily. you laugh at the extra rasp in his voice.

"fucking hell indeed," you reply, too tired to move off of the bed. you stroke his shoulder, tracing circles and hearts into his skin. you tuck your other arm under your head with a soft exhale. "can you still 'get home fine on your own'?"

he pauses for a while, trying to scoop enough of his brain into a pile to remember what you're talking about. he sighs, closing his eyes, and buries his face in your chest. "shut the fuck up. i'm not getting up 'til tomorrow. and when i do, you'd better be there to carry me."

"what the fuck – why'm i the one who has to do all the work all the time?"

"i will punch your stupid pretty teeth out if you don't."

you scoff, flicking your wrists up in some half-assed form of surrender. "yeah, yeah..."

he shifts, sliding his leg over yours, and cups your side in one hand. he practically clings to you like a koala. in the warm summer silence, his breaths slow, and his muscles relax. every so often, though, you feel him tense up and shift slightly.

after the first handful of times, you groan, irritated and drowsy. "quit fucking moving, idiot. just go to sleep."

his limbs tighten around you.

"stop worrying, taehyung. i'll be here when you wake up." your voice softens – just a smidge. "promise."

that smidge is all he needs. he rests his cheek against your collarbone and mumbles – something like don't tell me what to do – and squeezes you tighter, adamant on re-establishing his authority in this relationship. he falls dead asleep, though, in just a few minutes, snoring softly as he cuddles into you.

you smile. you'll let him have this win.

[xaeoism]

CHRISTMAS BAKING (scaramouche x gender neutral reader)

A/N - Going into 2025 writing about the same character I've liked since 2020 wasn't on my bingo list.

The smell of dried oranges and rosemary fills every corner of your home, a telltale sign of Christmas approaching. You've always loved Christmas best, the intimacy that comes with the season of snow is enough to make you want to fall in love once more.

You walk into the kitchen and lo and behold, Scaramouche is standing there in all his glory in his pyjamas with a cute apron tied around his waist. You walk behind him before giving him a hug from the back.

"Up so early? What are you doing?", you ask, looking over at the scene displayed on the marbled table as you place your chin on his shoulder.

"I'm making tres leches, and I always wake up early. But you, awake at this hour? Astounding.", he remarks, keeping up his mixing of the batter and paying no attention to you.

"It's Christmas, scara. Can I not catch a break from all your snide remarks for once?", you laugh.

"Perhaps for your New Year's resolution, you had better change yourself for the better. Maybe then I'll tone down on the insults."

"Oh? But you love me for the way I am, no?", you tease, turning your head to give him a kiss.

He doesn't respond to your teasing, but what he does is turn his head to kiss you back, and that action alone tells you what his answer is already.

"Whatever, there's apple crumble in the microwave for you by the way, I know you love eating those", he says.

Your heart flutters and a smile spreads across your face when you hear him say he made your favorite dessert. You tighten the hug for a little while, thanking him for his hard work before your hand reaches for the cupboard to pour some Zinfandel to pair with your apple crumble.

The tender slices of the sweet-tart apple, caramel notes of brown sugar paired with cinnamon tastes like heaven on your tongue and you can't stop yourself from stuffing another bite in your mouth. You reach for the glass of wine, swirling it a little before taking a sip. The wine's ripe berry undertones mingle with the sweetness of the desert, creating the perfect balance.

Scaramouche turns to look at your contended expression and feels his heart swell with love and pride.

"Don't drink too much wine so early on, you'll develop health issues faster than you expect.", he comments before getting back to pouring the batter into a pan and putting it into the oven.

"Scara, try this. It's so good.", you insist, scooping a part of the crumble to feed it to him.

Before he can protest, you shove it into his mouth and you see his expression change from annoyance to cringing out at the sweetness of the dessert.

"Isn't it absolutely delectable? All the desserts you make for me are always delicious, I only wish that I could do the same for you, scara", you say as you scoop another mouthful of the dessert to eat.

"If you'd like, you can help me finish the tres leches when it's baked. It'll be like you made it.", he suggested.

✧ ｡ .: * ♡

"Now, pour some the condensed milk mixture over the whole cake, and make sure that you pour it over the holes that I've made in the cake.", he directs, standing beside you to ensure that you were doing everything correctly.

You carefully pour a layer over the entire cake just as he says, making sure that you let the cake absorbs the mixture before you pour another layer over it. Your mouth is already watering seeing the cake turn moist from the amount of liquid it is holding.

"Time for the icing, take some of it from the bowl and gently spread it over the cake."

You look over at the bowl of icing and with the spatula in it, you scoop a dallop of icing and spread it evenly over the dessert. The icing on the cake looks just like the snow outside, soft and perfect.

"Now, you can add whatever toppings you'd like.", he says.

"The treat seems sweet enough as is, I think I'll add some dark chocolate so that you can also enjoy it with me.", you say as you unwrap some dark chocolate from the fridge.

With one hand holding the dark chocolate, the other raises the box grater on top of the cake. You found yourself struggling to grate the chocolate as the grater kept moving above the cake. Every attempt to grate the chocolate down the jagged surface resulted in uneven curls that fluttered onto the cake and stubborn chunks that clung onto the grater's teeth. Frustrated, you sigh in defeat.

Scaramouche watches you struggle the entire time, thinking that you look stupidly adorable for how you chose dark chocolate as the topping as that was the only chocolate that he could tolerate, and for how you tried to grate the chocolate despite never having tried a grater before.

"You're doing it wrong.", is all he says before he goes behind you, hands on your own, guiding you to put the grater down on a cutting board to grate the chocolate, producing perfect looking curls that can easily be scattered on top of the cake. "This is how it should be done."

You can hardly pay attention to what he is saying, in fact, you don't think you hear what he said at all. All you could focus on was the warmth that was transmitted from his hand to your own. You loved it, the warmth of his hand on yours, and the closeness of the both of you. It creates a warmth that spreads throughout your entire being, and you hope that it will continue to warm you until the year ends.

"Hey, earth to you? Are you there? The tres leches is done.", he quips, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

"Oh, sorry. But, oh, the tres leches looks absolutely delicious, scara. Let me take a few pictures and then we can try it.", you say as you whip out your phone to take a few shots of it from different angles.

Scaramouche watches you take out two forks when you finish, handing one to him and signalling to him to eat some of the cake.

You dig into the cake first, stuffing a large portion straight into your mouth. The flavours of the cake and the dark chocolate creates a symphony on your tongue, and you smile in delight.

He helps himself to a small piece of the dessert, however, making sure that he gets all the elements of it in the one piece. He can't deny that the bitterness of the dark chocolate really helps to balance out the sweetness from the moist cake, something that he tethers over constantly.

He loves you, for how you're willing to pick something bitter to top the cake despite your sweet tooth. He loves the thought of it so much that he hooks an arm over you to pull you close for a kiss on the cheek.

"So, was your wish fulfilled?", he asks, arm still hooked over your shoulders to keep you close.

"If you enjoyed it, then I'd say it's a success.", you , turning over to him to give him a sweet smile.

"Consider this a Christmas with fulfilment then. Merry Christmas, darling.", he murmurs, tilting his head to give you another kiss.

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Beer Boy and Sugar may have spent years apart, but their ten year college reunion proves they have always been part of the same equation. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst. Eventual smut. 18+ only

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

It was kind of funny to you when you thought about it. Everyone from your graduating class was flooding back to the University of Virginia for your class reunion, but you'd been here pretty much every single day for the past six years.

You hadn't planned on ending up right back where you started after graduating from the University of Chicago with your PhD, but things never usually went as you planned.  

"Big ten year reunion for you tomorrow night," said Veronica, your closest friend from work. "Are you excited?" You and she were sitting at a small table in a trendy bar near campus.

You just shrugged and swirled the last sip of your beer around in your pint glass. "Honestly? Not really. I haven't kept in contact with that many people I graduated with, and I probably wouldn't be going if I wasn't already living in town."

You pictured your cute rental house with the crooked fence and crumbling front step. It was only a few blocks from where you had lived your senior year. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun!" Veronica said with a grin. "And if everyone sucks, you can rub it in that you have your PhD from one of the most prestigious programs in the country. And that you were published in Mathematics of Tomorrow when you were only twenty two." 

You laughed. "I think you are overestimating how many people I plan on talking to. Maybe I'll see someone I know, but I'm just going for the free drinks and dinner, and then heading home."

"Yeah, you better head home early! Head home and make a decision for the fall! You are the only person I know who has ever been offered a tenure track at six colleges at once!"

You just waved your hand. "I have it narrowed down to Miami and San Diego. The other offers were kind of bogus, to be honest."

"Either way, you'll be somewhere warmer than Chicago," Veronica said with a shrug.

"I will cheers to that," you said, tipping your nearly empty pint of beer to her nearly empty glass of chardonnay. "Now, I need to run home before I meet this guy John for a second date."

Veronica made a face and shook her head. "That's the most generic name ever. And he sounded boring when you described him."

You just sighed. "Well, he was boring, but giving someone a second chance never hurt anyone."

You waved down your waiter for the check and handed him cash for the drinks. 

"Want to walk out with me?" Veronica asked, checking the time. 

"You go ahead, I'm going to use the ladies' room before I head out. See you on Monday?" 

"I can't wait to hear all about your class reunion!"

You just shook your head and waved over your shoulder as you went to use the restroom. When you finished washing your hands, you glanced in the mirror. You were having such a good hair and makeup day, it was almost a given that you'd look like a clown or a wet dog for the reunion tomorrow night.

You straightened out your short, blue dress and headed for the bar exit. You ducked past a server who was carrying a tray of drinks, almost bumping some of the patrons seated at the bar in the process. 

But as you walked past the guy sitting on the end, you slowed down a little bit. Even from behind, you knew he was going to be handsome. He had broad shoulders and thick, wavy brown hair. Just what you liked. 

Just what you'd loved, actually. Since college.

You tucked your hair behind your ear and glanced at him as you turned toward the door, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

The scars. You knew those scars by heart. You'd touched his cheek and his neck so many times, you'd be able to describe them in your sleep. You'd thought about his face more than you should have. You'd thought about his body next to yours. You'd imagined what could have been.

But now Bradley Bradshaw was right in front of you, leaning his forearms against the bar and watching sports highlights while he played with the label on his beer bottle. 

Only now he was all grown up. 

"Beer Boy?" you asked softly, and he spun in his seat to face you so quickly it made you smile. 

He just gaped at you, his eyes softly searching your face and dipping down as far as your neck before he licked his lips and grinned.

"Sugar."

Your belly swooped, and you were afraid you actually gasped out loud. His voice was even deeper than you remembered. You took a step closer to him, and his grin lit up his eyes. God, you could remember everything with him. Every bittersweet feeling came flooding back.

"I can't believe it's you." A giggle escaped your lips as you spoke, and his grin faltered a bit as his eyes landed on your lips. 

He had a mustache now, and his hair was a little shorter than it was ten years ago. And he was so big and impossibly handsome. 

"It's me," he said, his eyes flicking back up to yours. "And I guess you really are Doctor Sugar now?"

"Yes," you said before you bit your lip, remembering how many times he had called you that. 

He shook his head, and that crooked grin was back. "Chicago was lucky to have you."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as his eyes roamed your face. He looked good. He looked so fucking good. 

"You're still in the Navy?" you managed to ask as you inched ever closer to him. He turned his stool a little more to face you, his legs splayed apart with one hand resting on his thigh.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw these days."

You looked him up and down in his fitted pants and black tee shirt that really hugged his chest and biceps. "I can just picture you in your uniform."

When your gaze settled on his face again, you saw hunger there that had you squeezing your thighs gently together. 

"I wear a flight suit a lot of the time," he said in the raspiest tone you'd ever heard from him.

You pressed your lips together before you whispered, "You're just so much bigger now. You really filled out." 

Part of you recognized that you should be embarrassed at saying that, but it felt like no time had passed at all. It felt like all those years ago you had turned back around, climbed back in bed with him and told him you never wanted to break up, ever.

"Yeah, I guess basic training will do that to a guy," he said casually, but his eyes were making you feel so warm. "Can I buy you a drink, Sugar?"

The fact that nobody had called you Sugar in the past ten years was not lost on you, but nothing had ever felt more right. You had missed him, thought about him frequently, too. Especially during those years you spent in Chicago.

"Yeah," you agreed with a slight nod, praying you weren't about to embarrass yourself. "As long as your girlfriend doesn't mind." He wasn't wearing a ring, but you needed to know for sure. 

He just smirked. "Well, yeah, she would have absolutely minded if I was buying drinks for my beautiful ex-girlfriend. But we broke up two months ago, so I'm single."

"I see," you said, trying to bite back your smile, but you knew he was onto you. 

"So what are you drinking?" he asked, already raising two fingers toward the bartender to get his attention.

"The good beer," you said softly. 

And then Bradley turned toward you with a longing look that reminded you of ten years ago. "You still remember everything, Sugar?" he asked, his brows scrunching together as he took a deep breath and waited for you to answer.

"Everything," you confirmed with a nod. 

"Another beer for you?" the bartender asked Bradley before he turned toward you as well. 

"Make it two. Please," Bradley confirmed, and you shifted a little closer to him. 

When the bartender returned with two bottles, Bradley shifted on his stool to stand.

"Have a seat," he told you, but you placed your hand on his very muscular chest and stopped him.

"No, stay where you are," you told him, pushing him gently back down. When he eased himself back against the stool, you tucked yourself closer so your hip was nudging the inside of his knee. "Is this okay?"

"Yep," he said, quickly grabbing both of the beers and handing you one. "It's okay," he added as his cheeks started to grow pink.

When he shifted around in his seat, his leg rubbed against you, and you needed to start a new conversation to keep from moaning. 

"You're in town for the reunion?" you asked quickly.

"Yeah," he confirmed after taking a sip of beer. "I was in Virginia for work. It made sense to try to stop by. Where are you living these days?"

You laughed, and it seemed to make him more comfortable. "Like six streets over. I'm working at UVA."

"No way," he said with another grin. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah, but only for another couple of weeks. I'm trying to decide between two tenure positions."

"Which schools?" he asked softly, and you couldn't help but think he kept intentionally bumping you with his knee. 

"University of Miami and San Diego State."

His eyes went wide as he sucked in a short breath. "That's great," he told you, looking at you in awe now. "I still can't believe you teach math to a bunch twenty year old guys."

"Why not?" you asked with a laugh. 

Bradley turned his head to face the bar and took a long drink of beer. He gave you side eye and said, "I would have died if you were my math teacher, Sugar. Trying to teach me calculus, looking like that? Please, I'd have failed the class."

"What? Why?"

"Come on," he said, turning fully back and giving you a playfully annoyed look. "You're just as gorgeous as you were ten years ago. Maybe moreso. I mean...you filled out, too."

Your mouth was hanging open and your heart was pounding erratically. 

"But at least your students don't know about your math tattoo. So I guess they don't have it so bad. Me on the other hand? I wouldn't last a minute in your lecture."

"Bradley," you gasped, but he just kept his eyes on you while he finished his beer.

Your phone started vibrating in your clutch purse which you were gripping tightly in your sweaty hand. You set down your beer and pulled it out to see that John had been texting you.

"Shit," you muttered, and Bradley adjusted himself in his seat again, eyes still on you. 

"You need to go?" he asked, and it sounded like he was dreading the answer. 

"I...just need to send a quick text, actually," you replied, setting your purse down on the bartop and frantically typing back to John. "I'm just going to cancel my plans."

When you lowered your phone and set it down on your purse, he asked you, "Are you seeing someone then?"

"No," you replied quickly. "It was just a second date." You would have canceled plans with anyone to stay here longer. 

Bradley's grin was slowly creeping back. "Did you just cancel a date for me?"

You scoffed playfully. "Yeah, but he was boring anyway."

"That'll never do. Not for you. You deserve the best."

You looked at him carefully, letting your palm rest on his knee. "Is that why I had you?"

"Hmm," he hummed teasingly. "I would assume so." 

You just stood there for a minute, barely moving at all, except for your fingertips moving against his muscular thigh. "I missed you. When I was in Chicago," you whispered, and he was nodding right away.

"I missed you, too. Had a hard time at first. I thought about you a lot."

"I thought about you all the time," you replied, your heartbeat picking up in tempo again. 

Bradley nudged you a little closer with his knee, and you willingly went. "I still think about you sometimes," he whispered.

You sighed softly, and he sat up a little straighter, his face closer to yours. You felt like you could melt against him, if you thought that was a good idea. Which it was not.

A loud group of college students entered the bar and made their way toward the crowded tables, jostling you and bumping your butt in the process. You stepped further into Bradley's personal space to make room, bumping both of his thighs with your hips. 

His sharp intake of breath and slow exhale had you meeting his eyes and withdrawing your hand from the top of his thigh.

"No," he told you, grabbing your hand and then gently pressing it where it had been. You looked down and saw you were standing precariously close to him; if you moved your hand just a little bit, it would be on his zipper. "It's okay," he murmured, bringing his hand to your hip. 

This felt very good.

"I like your mustache," you told him, blurting out the first idiotic thing that came to your mind. Of course you liked it. He looked great with it. You weren't even aware you actually liked facial hair before this moment.

"Thanks," he said softly, and his eyes grew wider as you brought your other hand up to run your fingers along his mustache. His lips parted, but he didn't move otherwise.

"You couldn't grow one of these in college," you told him with a laugh. 

"No," he replied, his lips skimming along your fingertips. "Would have looked ridiculous."

Your soft laughter seemed to spur him on as his huge hand wrapped around your hip and settled on your lower back. 

Oh god, you wanted him. So badly. You needed him. You had never stopped feeling this way about Bradley Bradshaw.

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

Bradley had often wondered what it would be like to see you again. At first the idea of it haunted him; it was the only thing he wanted, but he figured it was never going to happen. 

Then as he got older, thoughts of you would jump into the forefront of his mind when he least expected it. He always figured you were doing everything you wanted to do. He thought you would be married by now. He was absolutely certain you would have found someone better than him. 

But you made him better. He grew into a man because of you. Every girlfriend he had since you broke his heart should have honestly written you a thank you letter.

But the crazy thing was, Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that he still felt a connection to you right now. His heart was leaping in his chest, elation pouring through his body. 

Your beautiful face was a few inches from his and you were touching his mustache. Your other hand was on his leg, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from guiding you closer with his palm on your lower back. Your gaze was still sharp, and you were just as witty as he remembered. And you were so perfect, he never wanted to stop looking at you.

"Maybe your mustache would have looked ridiculous ten years ago, but it looks good now," you told him. He wanted to kiss you. He thought he was going to, when you added, "You look so handsome."

"You're fucking gorgeous, Sugar," he told you, and he was treated to a radiant smile as your fingers rubbed the end of his mustache and trailed along to the faded scars on his cheek. "You always have been."

You were softly sighing as you examined him. 

"You look like you want to ask me something," he told you, and you nodded the tiniest bit.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a soft laugh. "But I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. Just ask." He would be honest with you, no matter what you asked him.

"When you think about me... what do you think about?"

A montage of images rushed through his mind, and he swallowed hard. Your lips parted with a little gasp like you just knew some of his thoughts on the matter were completely filthy. 

His cock was getting a little hard as he let his mind settle on the first time he got you off. "I think about that study room, Sugar. And how cute you looked in my bathrobe. And I think about how effortlessly you made me want to change my ways."

Bradley started to close the distance between you, and you cupped his cheek as your lips brushed his in the softest kiss.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, nudging his lips with yours again. But you were already pulling away as he was trying to get closer. 

Then you asked, "Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I start thinking about you?"

"Tell me."

You licked your lips before you said, "I think about your Navy desk lamp. And I think about your bedroom door. Nobody else has ever done anything like that for me."

Bradley kissed your lips nudging your nose with his. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Sugar." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and Bradley was absolutely aching for you now. He wanted to take you to his hotel room. He wanted to make you feel so good. 

You had your hand incredibly close to his cock as you looked him in the eye and said, "And when I think about you, Bradley, I think about the fact that nobody else has made me cum as good in the last ten years."

"Shit," he groaned, growing harder by the second as you sighed and moved your hand higher.

Bradley had to take your hand in his to stop you. But it was your wide pupils that had him shifting his right knee so it rubbed against your core. 

You sucked in a deep breath and gasped, gently grinding yourself against him as your eyes drifted closed. 

"Sugar," he groaned. "Please tell me you're coming back to my hotel room."

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

Ahhhh!!!! They are back! Seemingly picking up right where they left off! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[blushcoloreddreams]

Blueberry muffins + tips to get bakery style muffins

Muffin batter Ingredients

2 cups + 1 tbsp all purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

8 tbsp unsalted butter melted and cooled (around 112g)

2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 cup of milk

a pinch of lemon zest

1 1/2 cup of blueberries (fresh or frozen)

Blueberry syrup ingredients

1 cup blueberries

1 tbsp granulated sugar

1 tbsp lemon juice

Streusel crumble topping ingredients

1/4 cup all purpose flour

2tbsp + 1 tsp granulated sugar

1 1/2 tbsp brown sugar

Pinch freshly grated lemon zest

Pinch of salt

2 Tbsp of unsalted butter melted and cooled

(This is a blend from a few recipes that I tried to extract the best of each to combine them into something delicious. One of the original recipes called for double the streusel ingredients but after making it myself I only used half)

Instructions

Mix the dry (- the berries) and wet ingredients for the batter separately and then combine

Add the berries and let it rest

Making the sauce (in my opinion the best part of this recipe) is super easy, just heat these blueberries (I like to lightly press them) in a saucepan, add lemon juice and sugar

To make the streusel / crumble topping just mix the ingredients together

Add a 1/4 cup of dough + 1 spoon of dough to each muffin liner

Add the jam and then the streusel (be generous with it for a prettier look)

Bake them at 425 for 15 min before reducing to 375 for 10 min

Bakery style muffins

Want bakery style muffins every time?

Use these 4 tips to guarantee super-domed muffins!

1. Once your batter is mixed, let it rest for 45 minutes to allow the leaveners to active resulting in sky-high muffin tops

2. Use every other muffin well. This allows heat to penetrate on all sides of batter which will help them muffins rise.

3. Fill each well to the very tippy top so you get those perfect muffin tops that spill over onto the tin. These aren't cupcakes, so no flat tops here!

4. Bake at 425 degrees F (NOT 475! ) for 6-8 minutes to super charge the leaveners creating tons of rise. Then without opening the oven door, drop the temperature to 350 degrees F and continue baking for 8-10 minutes.

[three--rings]

Threerings' Dinner Plan

Okay so you've got the average or more than the average amount of stress and limitations to your time and/or ability, but you like to eat good food. And you know you need to both eat healthier and more cheaply (i.e. home cooked food.) What do you do?

Well in the past few months I've kinda perfected a system for low effort cooking of very healthy meals that last for many days of leftovers. None of this is revolutionary or anything or original but IDK it's working really well for me so I'm sharing.

(Also this is for omnivores. Sorry non meat eaters.)

Basically the idea is sheet pan meals. Like I said, not revolutionary. But I've found a system to make it as easy and low-effort as possible.

Step One: Choose your meat and recipe.

So mostly I use chicken for this, because it's cheapest. But if your store is having a great sale on pork or beef, by all means. This last week I did pork tenderloin cause they were super cheap I just searched for a recipe for sheet pan pork tenderloin and adapted it.

But we're gonna assume you're going chicken. So I really only like chicken breasts, but if you like thighs you can use those because it's cheaper. I typically use about 1.75-2lbs of chicken at at time for these recipes.

So what I do is buy the thin sliced chicken breasts from the store. The benefit here is they are already pre-trimmed of all the nasty parts so you're not paying for bits of chicken you don't want and also you don't have to handle and cut the chicken yourself. All I do is open the package and I cut each piece of sliced chicken in half in the middle, horizontally. You don't have to do that, but it makes all the pieces about the same size and it fits better on the tray and then people can take exactly as much meat as they want more easily. (I'm only feeding two adults but it would work well for kids that way.)

Step Two: Veggies

So that's your meat, then you need veggies. I use frozen veggies because they are 1)cheaper and 2)pre-cut. You can pretty much use whatever veggies you like with whatever recipe, but I try to keep it in theme. Like with a Mediterranean dish I did onions and bell peppers and cauliflower. Recently I got a bag of "roasting vegetable blend" that was excellent with brussel sprouts, butternut squash, and onions. Get the higher quality veg like broccoli "florets" cause it's worth a few cents more. You will need/want more veggies than you think, like 20 oz total, you can mix a couple small bags of different ones per tray. And they will shrink a good deal in cooking.

Step Three: Sauce/seasoning.

And then we have seasoning/sauce. This is where I turn to internet recipes for "sheet pan whatever chicken." But I have a few I've used that I've adapted so I'll give them here. Whatever you do, basically you just mix the sauce and pour it over the chicken and/or vegetables and throw it all on a sheet tray and cook it in the oven. (Specifics below.)

Korean Chicken

4  tablespoons dark soy sauce (I've tried both dark works better)

4 tablespoons brown sugar

2 tablespoons neutral oil

1 tablespoon sesame oil

2 teaspoons Sriracha sauce

4 cloves garlic , minced (or ½ teaspoon garlic powder) (I use pre-minced jar garlic for ease)

1 tablespoon gochugaru red pepper flakes (if you don't have these just either use a smaller amount of regular red pepper flakes or just more sriracha. This shouldn't be really HOT, just tangy. )

Do Broccoli and Chicken with this, and mix it all in the sauce. It makes the absolute best broccoli EVER. Like I just want a plate of this broccoli it's so GOOD.

Greek Chicken

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp fresh lemon juice

6 cloves garlic minced

1 tbsp dried oregano

1 tbsp dried parsley

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/4 cup feta cheese crumbled

(Sub pre-juiced lemon juice and jarred garlic for ease.) Marinate the chicken in the mixture for like 30 minutes first if you have time. Onions, bell peppers and zucchini is good for this. Don't add feta until the last 3 minutes of cooking, sprinkle feta over it and then put it back to get a little melty and browned.

Shawarma Chicken

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon ground coriander 

1½ teaspoons paprika (may substitute smoked paprika)

2 teaspoons ground cumin

½ teaspoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon fine salt

¼ teaspoon black pepper

3 tablespoons neutral or olive oil

Juice of ½ lemon

You can again marinate the chicken for a bit if you want. But you don't have to. I recommend cauliflower for this, with whatever else you like. Grape tomatoes are good too. For this one I sprinkled the veggies with curry powder to make sure they got seasoned because there wasn't that much of the marinade.

So for ALL of these the process is this:

Preheat over to 450

Spread the frozen veggies all over a sheet pan (wrap the pan in aluminum foil first for easy clean up.) You can drizzle them with oil, salt and pepper, or a little of the sauce/marinade and toss to cover. Toss the sheet in the oven while it's still preheating. This will get the veggies started and defrosted before you add the chicken so it will all cook together.

Meanwhile get the chicken ready/wait 10-15 minutes for the oven to heat and the veggies to start cooking. (If you're using smaller/more tender veggies you can cut this time. Skip this entirely if you're using fresh.)

Mix your thin sliced chicken pieces with the marinade/sauce. Remove veggies from the oven and push to the sides to make room for your chicken in the middle. You can also simply lay the chicken pieces over veggies if you don't care about the veggies getting carmelized. Arrange your chicken and dump all the sauce. Return to oven.

Cook for about 20-25 minutes. You can check the temp of the chicken with a thermometer, but it's so thin it should be fine. This is why we start the veggies first so they can get mostly cooked and have time to start browning without overcooking chicken.

Remove from oven.

Serve with rice. I have been going the ultra-lazy route of using frozen microwaveable rice, but some of you may have rice cookers.

Congratulations you have a super healthy meal. If you feel crazy you could make a second tray of veggies at the same time and just have less meat with each meal to stretch your $. You could also add beans to your veggies and same.

My husband and I can get dinners for 4-5 days out of one of these meals. But neither of us eats a lot at a sitting, so ymmv on that.

You can also probably see how to adapt this. Find a sauce/marinade recipe, choose veggies and meat, and go! You will have to figure out the cook time for different kinds of meat though.

[marigold-hills]

The Black Wizard (Part 3)

PART ONE | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

There is a peculiar emptiness to the room. It goes beyond sparseness of furniture or lack of decoration - a stark contrast to the rest of the Castle, and what Remus observed to be a significant amount of clutter.

There is a bed here, a little chair and a little table looking out through a little window, but the air is strangely thin, as if it wasn’t really formed. As if the room isn’t sure what it is or where it is, or if it is at all.

Remus has the strangest feeling that it wasn’t anywhere - not before Sirius spoke of it. He’s heard of magic before - his very existence proof of the strange things in life - but to feel it touch his skin like the softest gust of wind is a sensation beyond his expectations. Beyond his understanding.

He has no belongings to put away, none bar the book hidden in his chest pocket. They had been sparse since his parents' house had been taken back by the township, but even the small box of things he had stashed in a forest outside of Hogsmead had to be left behind. He had no time to retrieve it, no strength to carry it with him, and he spares a moment to think of the old blanket his mum knitted that’s at the very bottom of the chest.

He’s not willing to part with the things he does have, the stolen wallets and the one ring he plucked off a drunk stately man’s finger. It’s a pretty thing, a green stone laid between a cradle of golden leaves. Too dainty for Remus’ own fingers, calloused and scarred as they are.

I’ll leave in the morning, he tells himself, settling on the bed still dressed in his outdoor clothes - ready to flee in the night. Keep going North and find another town to live in. Get away from here with an intact heart. 

And he means it, too. 

Remus never was any good at predicting how things would unfold.

✨✨✨

He tries to sneak out in the morning, but the fire spots him first - a creaky floorboard gives him away. 

“Sirius left you tea and sandwiches on the hearth,” he says with his voice like kindling.

And indeed, there it is - a pot of tea, still hot, the air around it shimmering with some kind of magic Remus can taste but not feel (peppermint, cloves). A plate with a small loaf of breath, stuffed to fullness with crumbly cheese and honeyed ham. And next to it…

“The cake’s for you as well.”

It’s the kind of indulgence Remus only got to taste once: his seventh Candlemass, when his parents were still alive. His dad with a particularly lucky streak in hunting, his mum commissioned to make a dress for a lady with more money than sense. It was a good few months for them, and one lazy afternoon Remus watched his mum mix flour and eggs with an extravagant amount of melted chocolate.

It was the best thing he’d ever tried.

This cake? It lacks the love he saw in his mum’s, but it’s luxurious: dark chocolate sponge, roses of icing, a golden dusting of sugar over the top.

A bit awkwardly, Remus manoeuvres both the plates and the teapot into his hands, heads to the dinner table and pulls a chair out with his foot.

There are books stacked high on it, and spread all across the table, too. Remus pushes them away with an elbow to make space for his plates and tea, then picks up the stack from the chair and puts it to the side.

“Your name is James, yes?” He asks the fire, looking around the room for clean cutlery and a mug. There is a little kitchen counter set into an alcove, a cabinet filled with plates and bowls, a wide sink with a window over it, strangely coloured water sloshing happily as if it was just disturbed.

“That’s me,” the fire responds. The tips of it are reddish-brown and wild, like messy hair. “Oh, there aren’t any mugs,” he reads into Remus’ wonderings. “Sirius had some mishaps with a spell and they all exploded. Quite marvellous a sight it was.”

Remus looks at his pot of tea and mourns it: it smells like heady divinity, something rich and fruity and spiced. He’s not had a warm cup of tea in a few years.

It’s that thought that pushes him to grab a small bowl instead. He fills it with the tea, holding it with both hands. The heat comes through the porcelain and touches his fingers. That, too is a surprise. Remus has been living by himself, getting by on the streets of Hogsmead, for so many years that he’s forgotten the feeling of a warm plate. 

NEXT PART

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