#edge my cinnamon apple

[inkysqueed]

for the ask game, it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on?... (for final fantasy; take your pick from tictacs, dissidia or ffiv if you need it more specific?)

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

hmmm I'm gonna be mary mary quite contrarian and argue that many people sleep on edge or even ffiv as a whole. I'll stick with edge here though because he's my babygirl

most content i see of edge at a cursory glance is shipping (so true) or making fun of him for being a loser (which fair i guess) but he's so much more than failing to bag rydia. he's passionate, he's emotional-- he's one of the few characters i've seen that gets to live and even chill out after their violent quest of revenge. Especially in final fantasy!!

Edge moves on from the grief of losing his parents though! he governs eblan as he sees fit even if others voice uncertainty in his methods (the conversation he has where he says he's selling eblanian treasures to pay for rebuilding comes to mind), he wants peace and is willing to dismantle what is essentially eblan's military in the name of fostering good will between his nation and the nations that his friends now lead. Such a far cry from the spoiled and angry prince that Cecil, Rosa, Kain, and Rydia met in the caves near Eblan. and speaking of her-- I'm fine with the way his and rydia's 'relationship' ends in the after years. they could be more later, like whatever, but both still have conversations to undertake and growth to make if that is to be the case. (I'd say this even about any other edge ship though, including beloved dragonhide aka edge/kain)

Edge did a sweet thing in convincing Rydia's adoptive parents to come see her and to watch Cuore (who adores him im not taking any suggestions) while she gets to catch up with them-- again it really shows how much more mature Edge is compared to the end card he gets with Rydia at the wedding in the end of ffiv.

im not saying edge is perfect or better than the rest of the cast but i shrimply think people should give him a second chance. smiles cutely

[antirepurp]

you know, they Could just say that silver has been lying when he talks about his world and the way he travels back to the past. they could still make a storyline about post-06 silver that dips into existential horror and does something interesting with him. they still have the opportunity to determine some rules for the way time-travel works and do so without looking directly at the player and spelling it out for them. like silver hasn't had significant appearances outside of forces and spin-offs after his debut and thus his exact position in the world is vague at best and highly up for interpretation. most doors are still open. they could still make him canonically interesting

[faaun]

she says my heart is yours, from the caspian shores.

[shybluebirdninja]

A Long Road

Summary: Logan, old and insecure, finds comfort in the warmth of his younger girlfriend despite whispers of doubt from others.

(Oldman!Logan Howlett x Younger!Gf-Reader)

Logan’s POV

The coffee shop wasn’t too crowded, but it wasn’t empty, either. Enough people for a few glances to find their way over to us—for the murmurs, the curious looks.

I sat across from her, trying to look comfortable while stirring a cup of black coffee that’d gone cold ages ago. She had some fancy latte with cinnamon sprinkled on top—whatever they do to drinks now—and damn if it didn’t suit her. That sweet, new taste on her lips seemed right. Meanwhile, there I was, sticking to my usual, too set in my ways to try anything else.

But that wasn’t what was getting to me. It was the people. Or maybe it was just me. Seeing the way they looked at her, then looked at me, wondering what the hell she was doing here with a guy like me.

Some guy at a corner table gave me a quick up-and-down glance, as if he thought I wouldn’t notice. The words nearly spilled out, some snap about minding his own business. But she was scanning the pastry menu, her eyes bright, so I bit it back. Didn’t want to wreck her day.

“Babe, you wanna try one of these?” she asked, her finger tracing the list of pastries. There was a glint in her eye, all excitement over something simple—an apple twist or whatever fancy name it had.

I forced a smile, grumbling under my breath. “Eh, coffee’s enough for me, sweetheart.”

She just laughed, nudging her coffee cup forward, insisting. “Come on. Live a little. It’s apple cinnamon. You might like it.”

I rolled my eyes but took a reluctant sip, letting the cinnamon and sugar coat my mouth. It was...fine, but it wasn’t me. I grunted in approval, handing the cup back, catching her watching me like she found it all adorable or something. I tried to act casual, but it only made me feel more... out of place.

Across the room, two people whispered, stealing glances our way. Couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could guess. ‘Serious? Those two? Must be her dad. No way they’re together.’ Their words hung in the air, even if they hadn’t said a damn thing.

“Hey, uh...maybe we should get outta here,” I mumbled, tugging my jacket off the back of my chair, feeling the worn leather under my fingers. This place was starting to feel too damn small.

She looked up, confused but gentle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just... too many people.” I forced a shrug, standing up and trying to shake off the irritation clawing at me.

We headed out into the cool evening air, her arm brushing against mine as we walked. For a second, it felt good—free, just us. But as soon as we stepped inside the apartment, something in me cracked wide open. I shut the door, staring at the floor. Couldn’t bring myself to look at her, couldn’t explain the feeling clawing its way up my chest.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, her voice soft as she set her keys down, coming closer.

My throat tightened. I couldn’t look her in the eye. “You know, I’m almost two hundred, sweetheart. And I look every year of it.” My voice came out rougher than I wanted, almost a whisper. “People look at us, and they think...”

She reached up, placing her hands on either side of my face, thumbs brushing over the lines and scars. The worn edges, the parts of me that looked like they’d been through hell and back. “Let them think what they want. It’s just noise, Logan.”

I let out a laugh, bitter and hollow. “Noise, huh? Well, that noise gets pretty damn loud sometimes.” My voice broke, my hand coming up to grip her wrist, holding onto her like she was the only solid thing in my world. “I mean, hell...if this is how they act when we’re just dating, what’re they gonna say if I...if I ever asked you to marry me?”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned closer, so damn calm, brushing her lips over my forehead. “Logan, I don’t care what they say. I’m here with you. I chose you.”

Those words broke something in me, something buried so damn deep it hadn’t seen daylight in decades. Before I knew it, my throat tightened, my eyes burning with something I hadn’t felt in years. I closed my eyes, letting her hold me, feeling the steady beat of her heart as I let the tears fall.

After a moment, I pulled back, taking her face in my hands, my thumbs tracing along her cheekbones, rough and calloused.

“I’m gonna mess this up, you know,” I muttered, trying to manage a half-smile, the sarcasm slipping out of habit. “Gonna scare you off with all this old-man crap.”

She smirked, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Then you better hold on to me tight, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

I kissed her, slow, letting myself feel every second, every taste of that damn cinnamon latte still lingering on her lips. Holding her like she was the one damn thing keeping me together.

[sungvrhs]

SWITCHING SIDES - Lee Heeseung

"You may try to take control, my love, but I would always be the one holding the reins." warnings: EXPLICIT! SubxDom play. Female!readerxMale!Heeseung. The roles switch in the midway. Use of chains, cuffs and blindfolds, slight nipple play and fingering? WORD COUNT: 2.3K note: Posting for the Diary 2024: #15240822 with my twin @diorsyun! Reblogs and comments would be appreciated. It has been long since I wrote so please ignore the tipsy plot! English ain't my native language so please ignore any grammartical errors

───────────────⋆⋅MDNI⋅⋆───────────────

"Y/n! P-Please, Agh-" A choked moan escaped his lips as tears of frustration slipped down his orbs, wetting the silk cloth covering his vision. He was beyond frustrated since the moment you had him under your hold. What was even more was that you were sly enough to have him under your grip as you smirked to yourself whilst his hands fought against the cuffs restraining them. Having him helpless was super fun since you would always be the one to submit to him.  A little switch twitch was necessary wasn’t it? This was the third time you edged right before he released, causing exasperated sighs to escape his lips, heart heaving at a slow yet paced rate. “It has just been a little while till now Hee, I thought you were strong enough to pull through this.” You sulked, your fingers resting on his abs, tracing down the outlines whilst you took your seat on the bed right next to him. His mouth fell apart as he gasped for air, the choker around his neck being confined to immobilized his breathing just by a fraction. He was too hazed by the environment, and not hearing a response from his end had you pissed off as you grasped the loose end of the chain, pulling it taught as his neck jerked forward, your face leaning down to meet his with a space of few inches in between while; he could feel your minty breath clouding his lips. “Use your words, pretty boy.” It took him a moment to gulp down his saliva, nodding sideways at your statement. “I-It’s too much of the-” “Too much what? Didn’t think of the consequences twice before messing up with me did you?” You spoke in a higher pitch, practically scolding him which had him silenced. He prayed for you to not go on another round of teasing and torturing him silently as you looked at him, your heart swelling at his messed up state which swelled your heart.The way he thickly gulped down his saliva, his Adam’s apple bobbing at his former actions, the silk cloth almost drenched in his tears, you couldn’t take it anymore. Although, to be fair and square, this was what he had asked for. 

You pushed him back in the pillows, a low grunt escaping his lips which you engulfed with your lips in a chaste kiss. The haste reciprocation of your mild actions reflected his utter desperation, with your fingers lightly gripping on his jaw. Nibbling on his lower lip, your tongue mingled with his, fighting for the upper hand. He fought for dominance but your hands were quick enough to grasp on his retrained ones, pushing them further to let him know who was the real boss here. With the scent of cinnamon and the taste of cardamom slipping on his tongue, his taste buds gulped down the bitterness, his face scrunched; the taste contradicting the sweetness of the lip gloss you wore. The bitter sweet flavor had him faltering his strength to fight back against you, but he really couldn't wait any longer. And he could not beg for it anymore. Whilst you noticed the tiresome body responding low to your fiery actions, you broke the kiss, causing him to chase your lips as to which he failed miserably. He was disappointed, although he didn’t make it evident, but you knew how he was feeling. He had been very patient with your painful yet amusing play and he was secretly enjoying every inch of it, despite the odds of his cries that rang through your ears. 

You slowly reach out for his blindfold, giving him an indication that you were going to take it off as he leans forward, his vision blurring and eyes squinting at the sudden exposure of light blinding him, a soft groan escaping his lips. He blinks a few times to get familiar with the surroundings, the exotic environment hazing out his brain as his gaze met yours. His chocolate orbs, glistening with slight tears, traveling up to meet your hazel ones whilst you straddled him. Your siren gaze had him shuddered with his doey ones as he found himself at the loss of words. Your locks hung loose as to which he wanted to tuck them behind your ear so bad. If only telepathy was something that existed but what was greater was how the eyes spoke in silence. The synchronized rhythm of breathing with chests heaving at a slow pace, eyes blinking at the same time as you found it hard to maintain the eye contact any longer, bursting into laughter as your head fell on his chest, the small vibrations causing him to chuckle. Funny how a small intimate moment turned into something hilarious. “Heeseung I can't do this with seriousness anymore.” Your light chuckles caused his face to flush with embarrassment, since your fingers were resting on his bare chest. Least to say that he was pretty sensitive when it was you who was turning him on every passing second. And you know your game pretty well. You knew he was trying to hide it well when you were resting your palm on his pecs. “You were t-the one who started it though.” He spoke in the midst of his chuckles, trying his best not to groan whilst your thumb softly grazed over his honey skin. You chucked, your right hand making way to cradle his jaw as you leaned close to whisper. “You were the one who recommended it. Besides, wasn't this all written in your ‘wildest dreams of desires?’” His eyes slightly widened at the mention of the secluded section of his diary. No one was supposed to read that. His face heated up whilst he stuttered. “N-No, nobody was supposed to read that.” Your palm left his face, your lips pressing small kisses on the shell of his ear, tracing it down to his jaw as his mouth fell open. He knew exactly where this was going and he wasn't prepared for the rest.

“But what's the fun in not doing it? Don't you always fulfill my needs? So why shouldn't I comply to fulfill yours?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you lay on top of him, your clothed body against his, your body temperatures were the only thing that were distinguishing the two of you. The silence was unexpected, as if he was in the midst of his thoughts trying to find his path out to draw a single conclusion. And he was taking longer than you had expected as you sighed, your fingers pinching on his nipples as he let out a groan. “Y/n!” His eyes widened at your actions. “Come on Hee, don't think much about it. I'll give you 3 seconds to either say a yes or no. 1…” And he panicked, not knowing as to what he was going to agree or disagree. “But what is it abou-” “...2…” Your fingers traced down his collarbone, his uneven breathing picking up pace as he stuttered. “3-” “F-Fine, fine. I agree.” He dropped his head back to the pillows, knowing well that this was how he was going to be for the next few minutes. You lightly squealed, tossing a candy in your lips as you purse your lips, relishing the taste as you hummed. “Thank you babe.” You smiled sheepishly, pulling him in a messy kiss as to which he responded back, the zesty taste of lemonade flavor causing his face to scrunch up whilst he tried to break the kiss, but you were quick enough to chase his lips. Your teeth engulfed his lower lips, pushing the sour candy into his mouth whilst you broke the kiss, the string of saliva keeping you both attached. “I hate it.” He spat out, disgusted at the flavor you chose causing you to raise your eyebrow as your hand traveled down to his clothed shaft, earning a low moan from his lips as he jerked his hips forward, hands fighting against the cuffs. His lips fell apart at the little ounce of pleasure he was receiving, your movements slowing down whilst you felt his need to chase his high. “No fuck, please don't stop Y/n.”

“I wonder who was incharge here in the first place Mr.Lee.” You spoke, pouring as your hand and face gestured gears running in the back of your head. “Please!” The word came out exaggerated, exactly how it would be when he would be pissed off on his need not being fulfilled. Besides, you couldn't let him suffer this time, he had been too patient in the last few hours. “Of course of course my love.” Lowering his boxers whilst he helped you remove them, you placed a soft kiss on the tip of his shaft. He shuffled in his place, another moan escaping his lips as you continued to stroke it down, pacing up whilst you helped him chase his high, a sigh of relief escaping his lips after a series of chanting your name and enticing melodies of pleasure.

You went up to unlock the cuffs, his hands dripping down the very next second they were lose as you mumbled a small ‘sorry’ with an apologetic gaze, softly massaging his wrists that had a few marks on them by now. “God I am not doing that again I swear.” He spoke, sitting up a little as you got off him, ignoring how you were drenched at the moment. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you took the corner of the bed sheet in your wrist. “We'll see.” You spoke getting up to head to the restroom. You definitely had to take care of yourself before you headed out but feeling a light tug on your wrist had you halted on your place. Turning to face him you could sense the hunt of mischievousness in his eyes. “Where are you going?” He questioned, technically not wanting you to leave but you wanted to escape this asap so as to not embarrass yourself that you weren't soaking for him. “To change.” Your reply was short, contradicting the heartbeats that were racing a marathon. You went back to leave, only to get pulled by him harshly, as you landed on the bed next to him, your arms seeking for his support as you stumbled. You lifted your face to meet his, clouds of lust lurking in his orbs. He was quick enough to change positions, having you underneath him whilst his hands held your shoulders, pinning you down. Leaning down to whisper against your ear whilst his knees made their way in between your legs. And you knew what was coming.

“Are you drenched?” His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear, repeating your actions whilst they traced down to your jaw. You bit your inner cheek, trying your best to not let out those pretty sounds as you cleared your throat. “Drenched in sweat after the play? Of course. You were one hell of a ride.” If this was strong enough an excuse to be bought, Heeseung halted his movements, his face buried in your neck as he let out a small chuckle, the vibrations sending chills down your body. He pulled back to lock gaze with you, hands resting on the sides of your head as you answered back with a stronger gaze, the corner of his lips curving into a slight smirk. “Oh really?” Eyes traveling back and forth between your lips and orbs, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts, causing your breath to hitch. “How would you explain this?” his fingers pulled them down, a short gasp escaping your lips as the cool air met your pelvic, sending chills through your body. “I was the one being tormented, yet here you are, being a whole damn mess right in front of me.” His gaze locked yours, the hint of disappointment being evident through his orbs whilst you broke eye contact, your face flushed at his words. “I-I’m not.” you mumbled, voice inaudible with the way his fingers were drawing circles on your inner thighs.

“What was that hun?” You whispered in a low tone, sitting back to use his hands to part your thighs that you had kept shut right when you felt his fingers hover around your core dangerously. “I said I’m not-” Your words were cut short as his lips crashed yours, pulling you in a messy lip-lock. Every ounce of dominance left your mind once you felt his fingers pushing through your cervix, your back arching at his actions, letting out a moan which he gracefully swallowed, never once breaking the kiss whilst his fingers continued to work in rhythm. Breaking the kiss after a few moments, you were left breathless, completely ruined at the pace he was going that was almost going to knock up your orgasm but he pulled back, breaking the tempo as you groaned. “F-Fuck you Heeseung.” He smirked, watching the slick dripping down his fingers, eyeing it up and down as it glistened under the dim lights, with you dismayed at his actions under him. “Your wish is my command.” Smudging your own arousal on your lips, he shoved his fingers in your mouth, taking you by surprise whilst his other hand pushed his shaft inside you, thrusting at a wild pace which only accelerated with every passing second whilst your eyes rolled back at the pleasure. It had you lost that you failed to notice the chain slipping around your neck as he jerked it towards himself, the knot tightening by a fraction causing your eyes to flutter open wide.

"You may try to take control, my love, but I would always be the one holding the reins."

note#2: NOT MY BEST WORK I SWEAR I TRIED MY BEST BUT THIS MIGHT HAVE GONE THE OTHER WAY ROUND. BUT I hope you all liked it! Reblogs and comments would be appreciated <3

[hoseoksluna]

THE FUN DAY, pt. II. | kth

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, a little angst

word count: 5.0k

summary: you didn't prepare a fun day this time, but it became more than that.

pin: tba. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

note: this was the first fic, during which i absolutely sobbed my heart out. i never had this happen to me and i'm sure you'll feel it as you read. please, show me your love. enjoy. <3

An abandoned woman can weep,  but an abandoned boy can weep not. Uncried affliction pains the most, even love, when seven mountains repose between it, the seven mountains of hard rocks. 

I have two small windows, I have two big eyes, but writings I have none that would drift, at dusk, upon my table, reminiscent of an ivory cloud, and that would say:  people love each other, man! 

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — The Evening by Jiří Wolker

Paris was chilled to the marrow, yet embraced by winter. Dotted with mute stars and coruscating lights, life and poetry that were missing syllables—as if it were trying to speak, trying to converse, but something was prying its fingers inside their mouth, not allowing them to let out a sound. 

That’s precisely how you felt within the depth of your afternoon nap. 

The Eiffel Tower tried with all its monumental might to say something. The cafés with their myriads of intellectual words, glasses of wine and desserts strained their throats much to their dismay. You gazed upon it all—and you felt it deeply, their forced inability that wasn’t theirs at all. You wore nothing but a flimsy, tattered white T-shirt that has seen its better days, an item of cotton that belonged to Taehyung, and your feet were bare on the cobblestones, scratched and raw, though not cold. In spite of it, you feared for your baby. Feared the cold, that you did not sense, would touch it and bring something unfortunate to its developing body. And you drifted like this through your dream, carrying fear and pity. For the whole vastness of Paris, forbidden to speak; and for the smallest of Paris inside your belly, unable to speak yet. 

You drifted and stood, gazing and gazing. Wanted to leave. Wanted to go back to your apartment, but you couldn’t. Your guilt kept you in your place while your fear strangled you until you were blue. 

No people in sight and you were dying. Blue and pregnant, blue and abandoned. Blue and maddened—within the realm of dreams, that is. 

And then just as you internally reach for Jimin, as you have many times since October, a hand is brushing through your hair, stirring you awake, stealing you away from the tragedy of it all. And the sensation of iciness prickling the tips of your toes is what you feel first, the heft of the large palm on the crown on your head second. 

A tearful whimper gushes out of your throat, the awareness that you’re no longer rooted in your dream making your body squirm under the fleece blanket. The fear punctures through the flesh of your heart one more time before it escapes through the crooked center of your shoulder blades. 

And there’s a figure sitting by the edge of your bed, nestled in the arc of your folded legs and rounded form.

And it’s no longer afternoon.

You blink in the dark, try to make out what is happening and before your sleepy brain comprehends who that large figure is, your heart knows. 

Your heart smells the autumn spices of his being. Apples, pumpkin and cinnamon, despite being clouded by the wintry air. It hasn’t seen him in three months, but it knows him. 

It knows him intimately. 

“Taehyung?” your heart whispers, the sound coming out of your throat loosely, yet with a piercing pain that is greater than the fear you felt. 

The autumn boy sighs, enveloping you in the homely snugness that you missed, that you lacked all this time. You reach for his hand, blindly, finding it somewhere on his lap, and upon that first contact, he speaks. 

“Hi, baby,” he croaks out, the words new and untouched by this strange reality—as if he saved them for this very moment, keeping them deep in his clavicles all those months. “I’m home.” 

The noise that leaves you could be mistaken for a saddened sob, but it’s one of such absolute joy. The autumn boy coos, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. The yellow light shows him to you and you discover that the autumn boy isn’t a boy at all. 

Taehyung is a man. 

Short, black hair decorates his forehead in a sweet, seemingly youthful way that is painstakingly oxymoronic. His bulbous cheeks are pallid, carrying the weight of the winter in them—new, new winter that you barely even recall basking in with him. They hold up his boxy smile, though, something that you never shall forget. And lingering your eyes there, the sight is surreal. 

So surreal that you lift a hand and caress that meaningful cheek, coloring it in a rose tint that grows warm in your palm. 

A man of all rose gardens and sculptures that are alive. 

And when he tilts his face into your touch, your heart swells to such an extent that you spring up into a sitting position and melt into him within a clasp. A warm, a real clasp. 

He’s real. 

He’s here. 

His hair is silkily soft, the tresses of an angel that takes care of flowers such as these. The skin upon the nape of his neck is feverish, as is the torso of his body that you half press up against. He didn’t feel this warm when you were wandering unknowingly in your imagination. And when you pull back to make sure that what you’re seeing isn’t that figment of that damned imagination of yours, he ascertains to you that he is real by letting his boxy smile quiver. 

It quivers; it is not frozen in place. Beautiful still, but not frozen. Quivering with the heft of all the emotions due to your reunion. 

And when you slide your palm down his chest, his two perfect lungs lift to kiss it, just to fall and kiss it again. Over and over again. 

Large chest. Large shoulders. Large biceps. 

And large eyes that melt into chocolate pools as he deepens your shared gaze, studying the way you’re comprehending his presence. He gives you all the time in the world, as if understanding that his absence was too long and, tenderly, you break. 

Tears rush to your irises while you acknowledge your soul with the principle of it all by tracing his body with your fingers. The veins of his hand, thumping under your touch, that are the roots of the trees that watch over the roses in his garden. So full of life and present time. The forearms that aren’t hidden by the tweed of his usual suits, but clothed in the plush of an off-white zipper jacket that your heart mourns. A clash of what you’re used to and the reality. 

He must have gotten off the plane at this hour. His duffel bag must be somewhere in the living room, abandoned now in place of you. 

You’re no longer abandoned. He’s here. 

You’re no longer delirious. He’s here. 

He was supposed to come in the morning. That’s what he said in your last phone call, where he let you in on what Jimin had done for the both of you. Your response to his promise in October manifested in the following months, but Jimin fought against it. Knelt before the feet of the man he’s afraid of and begged. Begged the Sergeant to make that call and allow Taehyung to have his vacation. Begged until his knees bruised and his hands left a wet print on the dirty floor. 

And the Sergeant softened, impressed by his strong will and the respect he showed him. Nodded his head and made it so Taehyung leaves by the end of the year. Did so well in North Korea, protected his military brothers before himself, the Sergeant interceded with those facts and off Taehyung went. 

Off to catch a plane in December. 

I’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, Taehyung said over the phone to you, and somehow he must’ve seen the pout that was forming on your mouth because he added a reassuring I know right after. 

You didn’t understand why he couldn’t have come a day earlier, but now you see that you didn’t have to understand it. 

Because Taehyung made it. 

He came home on his birthday. 

You press your face against the side of his, your arms back around his neck. “My love,” you whisper and gently squirm, for you feel a movement in your belly. You open your eyes, brushing your lashes across his rose petal cheek, smiling a smile that quivers just like his. That is first movement of your baby that you ever felt. The tears pour out, watering the soft skin. You kiss the pathway it created, only to stray away and go up, nudging your nose against his. Let out breaths of your overwhelmingness against him like this. Feel that your baby spoke to you, spoke in the only way it can, telling you to tell him. And you do. Finally, you do—after nearly six months. “I have a gift for you.” 

Humming, his long fingers find the back of your head, his arm caging you in as he buries his digits into the waterfall of your tousled hair, grown thicker now due to your pregnancy. 

You didn’t make any plans for tomorrow, fearful it would turn misfortunate like it did in October. And because his return is so sudden, so unexpected, telling him now feels more than right. Feels divine, feels memorable, the destiny propelled by your baby. 

Within the snug atmosphere of your embrace, you travel with your hand on a journey across his back far longer than it used to be, down his strong arm until you wind up at his fingers. You take them and place them on your swollen belly, bigger now than it used to be as well. 

Both of you changed in different ways. 

“Happy birthday,” you breathe out, the words accompanied by your strangled sobs, and just like the cafés, the Eiffel Tower and the life and the poetry of Paris in your drowsy, afternoon dream, Taehyung doesn’t say anything. 

Not for a while. 

His lungs pause. The moisture of his lips crumbles into dryness like a withering blossom. His eyelids remain unmoving, irises fixed on a spot you cannot see because you cannot stop gazing at his evident shock. 

One he begins to wake up from when the baby kicks against his hand. 

He blinks, a heavy breath gusts out of his lips, upon which he runs his tongue. He turns his head to face you, no longer smiling, but trembling. A film of wetness clouds his sparkling eyes and you think the wholeness of the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower is in them, perhaps even greater than it. And against the place the baby kicked, it rests with their small body, drawn to their Daddy’s warmth. And it is only then that your tears and his, at last and in tandem, fall out. And along with it—every stress you ever felt regarding not being able to conceive. 

“We did it?” he asks, carefully, his voice raspy, quiet and deep, wanting to hear it from you first before he looks down, and you can merely nod. He whimpers, sniffling, glancing into your eyes with such depth that it moves through you, sealing something within you. Perhaps joy, perhaps satisfaction with life, perhaps the boundless love that you feel for him, and you want to stay in this moment for far longer than time allows you. But it is foolish, this want of yours. Because when Taehyung finally looks down at your belly, it is a moment that is slowly and surely carving itself into your skin, your flesh and your bloodline. For your baby to see in the future. He fondles the rounded valley of their little body and comes to terms with it, vividly. His sobs stream out, pained but ebullient, and there his mouth cracks that boxy smile. Real, colorful, shining. “We did it.” 

You nod again, the warmth of his hand boiling, homely, so right. “We did it, Taehyung.” 

His eyes flick to yours and as they close, he closes his fingers around the back of your neck as well and kisses you. Boiling, homely, right and real. 

Not a figment of your imagination. Not your delirium, caused by your abandonment, by the other end of your love that missed him. 

This is reality. This is the present moment. 

Taehyung deepens the kiss and in it you feel the gladness of his being, the words ‘finally’ that begin to unfold down your throat, hasty to meet your baby in your belly. 

And Taehyung is hasty, too. 

Breaking the kiss, he leans down and presses his lips against that rounded valley. Peppers a hundred, a thousand, a million kisses against that part of the baby’s body. Lingers there, cheek against it, head on your thigh, and breathes. 

You let him bask in it for as long as he needs, raking your fingers through his short hair. And your teardrops fall onto his colored cheek when he begins to talk to his baby. 

“Daddy’s here, little one,” he says, his tone mellifluous, his lips brushing against their body with each pronounced word—just like Jimin’s thumb brushed against your small belly at the time when he held your hand outside of the jazz club. “Daddy loves you so much. He can’t wait to meet you, but he has to finish his military service first and then he’ll be home for good. With you and Mommy. I’ll take care of you both. I’ll never leave again.” 

You swipe away your tears from his cheek and Taehyung straightens. Kisses your lips. Kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and hugs you as if he never hugged you before, three hearts connected in that embrace when he pulls you onto his lap and holds you. 

He inhales your scent, your hair, the sleep you emerged out of, tracing patterns on your back. And then the sweetest form of interrogation happens. 

He brushes your hair back with both hands, keeping it in place behind your ears. “How far along are you?” 

You can’t halt the bloom of the grin on your face, the question reminding you of Jimin. “Five months. Six next week.” 

He reciprocates the smile, but as he begins to do the math, it withers. “So your due date is in May?” 

The corners of your mouth downturn. You haven’t allowed yourself to fully think about the time in the near future in terms of you giving birth, knowing the pain it would bring. You’re aware you should prepare yourself for it, so the worst doesn’t happen, but you also don’t want to prematurely cause harm to your baby with that stress. 

Your emotions are in shambles. They are a threat and you wish they weren’t. 

“May 30th is my due date, but it doesn’t mean I give birth on that day. I can give birth in June, too. It depends on the baby.” You laugh, softly and shortly. “Can you take a leave?” 

You can see him racking his brain, his features solemn and tense. “I get discharged on June 10th and I don’t know if the commander will allow me…” he trails off, briefly looking away before finding his way back to your eyes. “Don’t worry about that. It’s my responsibility. I’ll be here. You won’t be alone during your first childbirth, I promise you that. I’ll be here. Do you trust me?” 

Without a shadow of doubt, you do, and so you don’t hesitate to nod your head and express it through your own words. “I do, Taehyung. I trust you.” 

He smiles, the blush in his cheeks deepening its hue. “Good.” 

He kisses you, gently, and it’s a kiss of such romantic affection that you forget about the threat of the stress, the threat of him not being here during your childbirth. You melt into him, basking in the demonstration of his love for you, of the pride he feels because of the way you trust in him. You can enormously feel it all, as if it was written on his lips and you could read it. 

He’s daubed in this resplendent romance as he withdraws. Coated in sweat, he’s so refulgent that you dissolve, falling in love with him all over again. Your inner child swoons and you sense her emotions, as though you were her in the autumn of your childhood, being caught by him during a chase, surrounded by pumpkins and apples. The emotions she felt when she looked at him more differently than she ever did in her lifetime and realized that she wants to marry him and have a baby with him. 

That undreamed dream came true. And somehow that is healing her. Somehow, that allows her to rest peacefully, having drawn her last breath. 

Taehyung kisses your chin. And kisses her goodbye at the same time. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” 

You shake your head. “The doctor asks you at the five month check-up if you want to know the gender, but because you weren’t with me, I didn’t want to. My next check-up is next week, though. We can find out together.” 

You expect him to smile at that, but Taehyung frowns, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry you had to go to these check-ups all alone. I’ll go with you this time, baby.” 

The anguish you had buried in yourself deep resurfaces. Maybe that is one of the reasons why you were so delirious in October. You had to go through the final stage to adulthood all by yourself, abandoned. 

Something tells you to tell him, but shame holds you back, twisting your tongue. You furrow your brows, breaking free of the amorous eye contact you had with Taehyung, and he immediately catches onto the shadowed side of your emotions. 

He grasps it into his hand, like he so very often grips your hair. “What’s wrong?” 

You bite your lip, still looking away. “Did Jimin tell you anything about the day you were supposed to have your vacation?” 

There’s an interlude between his response and you glance at him to see him drifting through the library of his memories. With furrowed brows, just like your own. 

“I only spoke to Jimin once and he asked me if my commander allowed me to have his vacation. That’s how I found out he was willing to give it up for me, but I didn’t know why,” he says, lifting his head from the myriads of life-records, uncertainty and confusion covering his eyes. “But I didn’t get his vacation. My commander gave me a reward vacation because of what I did in the north. Why did Jimin want to give up his vacation for me?” 

The shame inches closer, scratching your back, but for your baby, you shake it away. Decide to tell him because you trust him and because you can tell him anything without the fear of prejudice. 

“Because I went mad on that day,” you start, straight and flat. Taehyung widens his eyes, but then his brows lower down, as if they were saying, excuse me? Anger eclipses his face, one that feels safe, though. “I imagined you being here with me. I planned this fun day with you and Jimin, taking you on a walk through the park on the way to the jazz club, where you kissed me for the first time. I wanted to tell you about the baby. Jimin was supposed to honor you for your mission in the north by singing, but I ruined everything. Nobody saw you when I saw you very clearly… until I didn’t.”

Pensiveness smooths out over his anger that boils, quietly. And once again, like Paris in your dream, he doesn’t say anything at all. He contemplates the information you’ve given him and the patterns he’d been engraving into your back reach their end, no longer circling on their own without his assistance. 

“Why didn’t he tell me any of this?” he asks, keeping his voice low, so his anger doesn’t touch you. “I should've known…” 

There was no contact between you and him for the two months he was on his mission, and phone calls were forbidden. It seems as though he’s dwelling on this fact as he doesn’t finish his sentence, rooting his eyesight on your lips, absentmindedly. 

Jimin said one month, but he was wrong. 

North is brutal. Too, too brutal. 

Thank God Taehyung came out unscathed. 

Another interlude of foreign, but not entirely uncanny silence settles in between and, blinking rapidly, Taehyung sighs. Brushes your hair back one last time before he takes your hands in his. A gesture of absolute genuineness, a foreshadowing to his following words. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice throaty. “I’m sorry for not being here. I’m sorry for being so far away. And I’m sorry our dream came true when I have to be away.” 

His pity cuts through you, reminiscent of your dream, and you realize that the pity you felt in that other world wasn’t yours. It was his, and the element of the inability to speak was the principle of him not being here and not being able to react. It’s all connected—your dream told you about his return and about his feelings. And you felt them because you’re a part of him, carrying his child. 

You soften, seized by it all, and you hide your face in his neck, fading into him. “It’s okay. You’re here now. Maybe it was supposed to happen now. We both changed, didn’t we? We grew up.” 

He forces you to look at him and the pity on his face breaks you. The rose petals in his cheeks died, the smooth surface now swirls with pallidness once again. His brown pools are glossy with the depth of that emotion, millions of words swimming in them. He can’t say them, he can’t catch up to them, and when he closes his eyes, presses his forehead against yours and sighs, you’re aware of how hard this is for him. 

You had five months to come to terms with this star-crossed situation. He’s barely had an hour. 

“I want to be here for you. I want to help you. I don’t want to leave you alone with the baby,” he murmurs against you, squeezing your hands to make you understand how much this means to him, and you allow the wall, which you had built up along with Jimin to keep your mind and your emotions safe, to collapse, completely. Fresh tears drip down your cheeks, your chin trembling. “Have you had any morning sickness?” 

You nod, recollecting your first nausea in the first trimester when Jimin was still around. “Yes, it started when Jimin was here. He was there for me. Until he had to go back to Korea.” 

A war flashes on his face and, right away, he lets you know which side has won. “I want to be here for you, not Jimin. Do you understand me?” 

You open your mouth in shock because you still, faithfully, remember the words he spoke to you in your imagination. Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone. And with shock comes the realization that the chapter ends. It is the final puzzle piece, the last enlightenment you needed—because in reality, Taehyung didn’t say those words. Taehyung didn’t give his blessing for Jimin to take care of you in his absence. Your own ego did. 

Taehyung mistakens your silence and your comprehension of that for displeasure, and he clicks his tongue in regret, sighing your name. 

“I’m glad Jimin was there for you, don’t get me wrong, but I just wish it was me. Who knows if I ever get a chance to be your partner in this again,” he spills out, truthfully, and watches as another rivulet of tears trickles down your face. He wipes them away, blinking his own away, too. “I want to rub your back, baby. I want to watch your belly grow big. I want to tie your shoes, bring you food and buy baby clothes with you. I don’t want Jimin to do that because it’s my job. It’s my duty.” 

You understood him then and you understand him now. Agree with him as that truth anchors in your heart. Jimin was kind to do what he did and you’re grateful for it. Without him, you’d be roaming in your delusions. And Taehyung needs to know that he helped you with that first and foremost. 

“Jimin wasn’t my partner in that, Taehyung,” you croak out, inhaling deeply so your sentences flow out better. “I agree with you that it’s your job and I also want it to be you. But what Jimin did was save me from my own mind. I was lost without you, pregnant and alone, and he kept those delusions far away from me. I needed that. I needed a friend.” 

Taehyung nods, understanding, caressing your tear-stained face. The color percolates back to his cheeks, little by little. And you can see a weight being lifted off his shoulders. 

Calmness expands in your sternum. 

“I will give him my thanks for that,” he settles, kissing your temple, leaving his lips there, against that intimate place. “You won’t be left alone with your mind again. I’ll try my hardest to be there for you, to keep in touch. I’ll talk to my commander. I’ll do anything. But I promise you won’t have those delusions again because you’ll be busy with me.” 

The last tears that surge out are of relief and you hug him, squeeze him in gratitude. “Thank you, Taehyung. I love you.” 

He sinks his fingers into the patterns he engraved into your back, rocking you side to side in that embrace, his lips by your ear. “I love you, baby. I’ll buy you a big house. We’ll go on a shopping spree next week and get all the things the little one needs. I’ll take care of you both.” 

You kiss him and in the middle of that expression of affection, the baby kicks again. Taehyung feels it against his own tummy and he grins and laughs into the kiss, lifting you up with utmost ease and setting your feet down on the carpet near the record player by the wall. 

And the music he begins to play isn’t of the jazz kind he loves so much. He put down a vinyl that bears Billie Eilish’s face and when Halley’s Comet sounds out throughout the bedroom, he takes your hand and drifts on the carpet with you. 

Not under the brown, dimmed lights of the jazz club, but under the yellow lights of the bedroom where you reached the beginning journey of your adulthood. And now as you dance with him, pregnant with his baby, you feel as much as an adult as a human can possibly feel like one. 

The final stage. 

Everything changes with this song. 

Halley’s Comet comes around more than I do…

Taehyung doesn’t come often, but he’s here now. Big and buff, cinnamon, apples and pumpkin. The boy you loved turned into a man that you love even more. 

From a baby boy friend to a baby Daddy. 

And as he looks down into your eyes, he asks you what names you want to give to the baby. And you whisper it to him, letting yourself be led into a dance of adulthood. 

“Perfect,” he whispers back, kissing you and staying there for as long as he needs, for as long as you need because you grip his shoulder with all your might, afraid to let him go. 

Because after he piles up your apartment with the crib, the stroller, the high chair, the diapers and so many non-colorful baby clothes that you need another set of furniture, he has to leave again. And you cry so hard that you can’t get any words out. But Taehyung hears them. He hears them in the hundreds of kisses you exchange and he hears them in the last hug you give him and in the last goodbye you say to him. 

And he comes back on May 29th, bigger and more buff than he was, prepared to be a Daddy. Spends the day moving into the new house he bought you with Jimin as his help and no one else. Paints the baby’s room pink because you’re having a baby girl that he grew his muscles for to protect her. 

His commander gave him a special leave and forbade him from coming back and finishing his service. Apparently, the man himself has five children and four grandchildren. Is a softie when it comes to them. 

And when Taehyung is done with the house and sits with you on your new couch, he announces it to the baby girl. Your home is ready, little one. You can come out now. And he laughs so hard that the delightful sound pulses through the walls, taking a sip of his soda. 

And she does come out the next day, sharing the same number of her birth date with her Daddy. Taehyung holds your hand, as calm as the spring wind, as you push her out. Breathes with you, guides you, controls your inhales and exhales. Keeps his lips pressed against your temple—and he purses his lips against the same spot on the baby girl’s head once he holds her. 

And Taehyung looks at you, and you look at him. Joyful tears fall, in tandem, with his. 

And the happy event repeats two years later. What Taehyung feared the most didn’t come true. He watched your belly grow with his second child while holding the hand of the first. He rubbed your back while you threw up the breakfast he had learned to make for you. He tied your shoes when you couldn’t bend down due to your large bump, his daughter standing beside him, watching his every move, learning about love from him. And he bought colorful clothes for the baby with its gender already in mind. 

Blue, brown, green and beige. 

A baby boy for the baby girl. A reversed picture of you and him, growing together. 

And as your babies grow together, you grow old with Taehyung, too. 

And he never leaves. Never again. 

And he buys you tulips of all colors every single week, whose sweet scent the children inhale and whose pink hues color their cheeks. And they play with Uncle Jimin until he brings them cousins to utterly fall in love with.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | read part one

[nburkhardt]

Clingy Honeyboy

Quick information I don’t want to fully explain: it’s an au of season 4. Steve and Eddie got together while Steve was working at Scoops. The UD isn’t around anymore either.

cw: omegaverse, mpreg (omega Steve & alpha Eddie)

Onto the fic ✨

There’s something up with Steve.

Eddie loves him, like, wants to mate with him kind of love. Is sorta obsessed with him actually. Already half way living together and has family weekly meals with Wayne kinda love. Clings to each other, spends as much time as possible together type of love. Ya know?

And that’s how he knows there’s something up because Steve’s been extra, extra clingy.

So clingy that his best friends officially found out about their relationship, because Steve was glued to his back during band practice one day. (He had to answer many questions that day- with a purring very content Steve leaned against him not even bothering to help, the jerk!)

Look, he’s not complaining. Eddie loves his clingy omega very much, thank you. He’s worried, this is a new level of clingy for his sweet baby.

It’s just…leaning into a concerning amount of clinginess. To the point that he’s skipped days of school and spent it in their nest or in the backroom of Family Video. Steve heavily scents him on the days they do manage to be apart. He’s almost out of clothes because they keep getting stolen!

“Alright, okay. Stevie, Sunshine, Light of my life. What is going on?” Eddie sits up in their nest, watching as Steve stops his hands from continuing fixing the edge of the nest, “Honey?”

Steve shifts to sit back down, confusion all over his beautiful face. “What do you mean, Eds?”

“You’ve been extra clingy, stealing a lot of my shirts. You’re fixing the nest for the tenth time this week and it’s only Tuesday. I’m starting to get concerned, are you feeling okay?”

Eddie reaches over and grabs his hands, squeezing lightly before tugging him closer. Steve goes along and rests his forehead against his shoulder, “I just, I have this need to be with you and- and the nest feels wrong, okay?”

“Wrong? But it’s our nest, has been for a while now?”

Steve lets out a huff, “I know! But it’s, there’s- maybe. It needs more, I don’t know.” there’s tears coming up and Eddie is quick to pull him into a hug, “Doctors appointment?”

“Doctors appointment.”

The day he found the courage to just talk to Eddie, Steve was a little sleep deprived. (Give him a break, it was just after the whole- mall fire, okay?!) It felt out of body, but so amazing, because the alpha said yes to a date.

Right now, right here, he feels that same- giddiness. Feels on cloud nine, his heart is beating so fast and his scent is blooming his joy.

“Congratulations, is the right word, then?” The doctor smiles at them, then while the doctor talks a bit more, Steve blanks it out.

In a few blinks, he’s settled on their couch at home and Eddie is strumming his acoustic guitar. Their combined joyful scents are filling his nose and making him feel warm and happy. They stay like that until Wayne gets home, telling him the news immediately.

Because one, they live together and two, it’s Wayne. Of course he gets to know immediately.

Steve is so happy the days following that everyone gets to smell his cinnamon and the new subtle vanilla scent from his pregnancy. His joy is contagious, everyone they run into ends up feeling just as happy as Steve.

It was only a matter of time for Steve’s found family pack to notice and question the sudden mood change.

(It took Robin a day of working together to piece it together, she knew of their relationship of course, she’s Robin. She freaked, rambled and cried happy tears for him. The front room of Family Video was full of cinnamon and apples from their combined scents.)

Eddie’s busy reworking notes and rereading all his papers, leaning over the table and ignoring the others around him. He’s too wrapped in it that he doesn’t hear or see the door open, until a very familiar scent pops up next to him that immediately gets his attention.

Standing there with a pout already on his face, his arms crossed in the jacket Eddie was wearing last night, is his Stevie. His scent doesn’t give off actual distress or discomfort, so Eddie isn’t panicking yet. Instead he flips his papers over and turns completely to face his Sweetheart.

Around them Eddie can hear how silent it gets as Steve climbs into his lap and immediately scenting him. Eddie’s arms automatically wrap around him and breathes in his favorite scent.

As he opens his eyes, there’s the newest sheep, Steve’s adopted pups, looking at them with wide eyes and mouths wide open. Dustin front and center, an arm up pointing at them looking like a cartoon character.

It’s as Steve’s pur starts up and he fully sinking into Eddie getting comfortable, that the room explodes with questions. At least from the pups- his best friends already know how clingy Steve’s been for weeks now.

“What the hell is this?”

Eddie shifts against the chair and looks over at them, “Honeyboy is clingy.”

It absolutely does not answer the question and if anything, it looks to have annoyed Wheeler- and confuses Henderson even more.

“Honeyboy? How do you two even know each other?! Is he asleep right now?” Dustin’s eyes can’t get any bigger as Eddie watches the wheels turn in his head.

“yes, Honeyboy. Or Sunshine, Baby, Sweetheart, Babydoll, annnnd Stevie.” Eddie smiles as he lists each name, knowing he has even more. “We live in a small town, of course I know him. And yes, he is asleep right now so why don’t you be quiet and not wake my Honey?”

Henderson looks about ready to explode and it would be funny to keep him and the others from getting any more information, but luckily, Eddie’s willing to ignore the little devil on his shoulder today.

“Stevie and I are together, he’s extra clingy right now. Ya happy?”

The boys all look at each other with wide eyes before deciding to whisper to each other and Dustin turns back around and as he starts to speak, Steve shifts against him and Eddie can feel his smile as he moves.

“Teddy forgot one important detail, I’m also pregnant.”

I think if I continue writing, it’d just be more of Steve being clingy and a little shit towards Dustin. So we’re ending it there :)

I was at work the other day and all I could think about was a clingy Steve and how funny if that’s how people find out about their relationship haha. Then i decided I needed this to be just a straight up season 4 au, where the upside down doesn’t effect them anymore bc I didn’t want the hurt/comfort, I just wanted happy and sappy.

@puppy-steve (I saw that comment on the WIP I posted a few days ago ❤️)

Permanent Taglist: please let me know if you don’t want to be included when I post with mpreg.

@mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @bookworm0690

[ms-demeanor]

I don't even know what to call this but oh my god.

I had leftover pie crust but not enough for a pie and three apples, which is not enough for a pie, and some honey I accidentally got water in and this isn't a pie and it's weird and it's so good.

It's kind of a take on my caramel apple pie in that the base components are apples, butter, and brown sugar but I also added two teaspoons of cinnamon and a few tablespoons of watery honey and half a teaspoon of almond extract. It was about half a cup of brown sugar and maybe a third of a cup of melted (salted!) butter and 3 tablespoons of potato starch.

Baked at 400 for 45 min.

The edges are covered in this foamy bubbly caramel stuff that like, hardens into candy as you chew it. I used envy apples so it's very sweet and just a tiny bit tart. The water from the apples and honey and the butter soaked into the very thin layer of crust so it's crispy rather than flaky in a very nice way.

It's not a pie, it's kind of a tart? But not. It's just really really good and it's frustrating when something I randomly mixed together to use up ingredients comes out well enough that I want to duplicate the recipe but the recipe includes stuff like "honey I accidentally got some water in when I was trying to decrystallize it."

[cheollipop]

☂˚.⋆｡ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨

navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.0k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3

a lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

☂ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.

☂ A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the apples’ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.

Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smile—a reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.

You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream he’d worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag he’d forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. You’d mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokmin’s shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when you’d walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palms—going cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.

Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.

Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokmin’s profile and onto the family walking past you—two curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations you’d had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered comment—’for the future’—did not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands he’d tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man who’d brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?

Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.

The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokmin’s palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.

You giggled, “those look great, Min.”

“Only the best for you,” he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek he’d just pinched.

Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokmin’s side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasn’t that heavy.

You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. “Min. I can carry it myself.”

“Mm, I know,” he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. “Don’t want you to, though.”

You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coat’s sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.

Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, “Stop complaining, you’re not getting it back.”

And this time, all you could do was laugh.

The hours hurried by while Seokmin’s endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadn’t, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit he’d gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.

A particular shade of green caught Seokmin’s eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokmin’s teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, you’d missed the sly smile, the giggle he’d nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.

A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.

He’d watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness he’d willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once you’d swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.

“Hey,” he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, “we share everything, right?” He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. “Why should I make an exception for fruit?”

“Bad fruit,” you corrected, an eyebrow raised.

“Babe,” he started, but didn’t know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.

And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples you’d launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.

--

You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes you’d thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.

Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokmin’s hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.

“Baby?” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.

You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until you’d made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.

“I was being careful,” he spoke through a melodramatic pout.

You smiled. “I know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?”

Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokmin’s pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when you’d dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokmin’s pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.

“Why don’t you make the dough instead?”

You picked up where Seokmin left off—half an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you worked—going through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when you’d noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. He’d forgotten the eggs.  The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess he’d been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered ‘it’s okay, Min’ seemed to do the trick, though.

Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spices’ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised he’d begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.

Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokmin’s movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough.  Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his muscles—the smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess he’d left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you weren’t sure you’d want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power he’d been holding this entire time.

Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when you’d spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.

“It looks great, Min!” You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Though a simple gesture, Seokmin’s face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didn’t satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until he’d had a taste and realized he’d never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhere—hands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.

Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.

“T-the pie!” you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Can you preheat the oven please?”

An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, “yes, boss.” Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. “You have flour all over your face, by the way.”

And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.

The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances you’d stolen of Seokmin’s defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.

Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.

His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.

You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, “the sweet potatoes!”

The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but that’s only because you enjoyed watching the man—broad shoulders and all—sulk and whine when he didn’t get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. It’s unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.

You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokmin’s chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokmin’s body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumber’s enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.

--

The night’s breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.

“Cold?” he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.

You shook your head, “not anymore,” and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.

Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blinds—a cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.

He’d been teasing you for so long—his cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, you’d reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.

Despite a day’s worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. He’d always enjoyed giving—curling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.

Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still won’t move.

You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. “Please,” you whined, “Min, please move.”

Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, “oh baby,” he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, ‘wanna make you feel so good.”

Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. “Min-”

“Let me be good for you.”

A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasn’t much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.

Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foil—the unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.

The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ah’s, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, “all mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. “All—hngh—all yours,” you repeated, exhaling a breath you’d been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.

“I—hah—‘m sorry,” he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body.  “Felt so good, I couldn’t…” he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. “I couldn’t help it,” he muttered.

The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didn’t continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick he’d collected, a silent promise of “I’ll be good” glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.

And he was, so good.

You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.

You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokmin—with his boxers on backwards—reached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn night’s chill piercing through his skin.

He didn’t even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it there—arms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokmin’s tender embrace.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin .  Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

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I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

[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.

[feyburner]

hiii, do you have any good fall recipe recs? sweet or savoury I don’t mind I just regard you as a cooking god and am looking for inspiration

Yes! Here is my current To Make list.

Many I’ve made before and some are recipes I want to try.

I’m linking specific recipes just bc I’m copy pasting from my own list. Sorry for all the instagram reels, you can just google the name of the thing and find it.

I’m going apple picking with my friends sometime in early October so I’m already planning all the apple things I want to make 🤤🍎

And Friendsgiving… so many pies…

SWEET

- French Apple Cake/German Apple Cake

- Apple Tarte Tatin

- Apple Crunch Tart/“The Best Apple Tart in Paris”

- My auntie’s date pecan bread, one of my favorite quickbreads of all time. Yes you are reading that ingredient list correctly. This is for real fruit & nut enjoyers only. If you can’t play with the big boys go home.

- Pumpkin Bread

- Pumpkin Pie (I use the Libby’s recipe but double the cinnamon & ginger, brown sugar instead of white, 1 extra egg, and add 1 tsp vanilla, 1/2 tsp cardamom, 1/4 tsp nutmeg, a few cracks of black pepper, and lemon or orange zest. AND let the filling chill in the fridge overnight!!)

- Sweet Potato Pie (my own recipe, I’ll put under the cut)

- Pecan Pie (same)

- Cinnamon Roll Focaccia/Pumpkin Cinnamon Swirl Sourdough

- Orange Cardamom Olive Oil Cake

- Pear Almond Tart (Tarte Bourdaloue)

SAVORY

- Arayes (made already, so good)

- Crispy Pork Scallion Buns

- Coconut Curry Butternut Squash Sheet Pan Soup (+ Any Vegetable Sheet Pan Soup)

- Veggie Filo Crinkle Cake

- Peanut Noodle Soup

- Fall Squash Galette/Butternut Squash & Caramelized Onion Galette

- Crispy Parmesan Carrots

- Garam Masala Roasted Carrots

- Zucchini Cornbread

- Homemade (sourdough?) pizza with roasted butternut or kabocha squash, goat cheese, figs, caramelized onions

- My dad’s red beans and rice :)

- Spicy Korean Fried Chicken

- Potato Tart with Zucchini & Feta

- Thai Red Curry Dumpling Soup

- Channa Masala

MY RECIPES:

SWEET POTATO PIE

MAKES: 1 x 8-9” pie

INGREDIENTS

1 ½ lbs sweet potatoes (2-3 potatoes) (3 cups flesh), whole, to be roasted

1 x 12 oz can evaporated milk

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar

2 eggs

5 Tbsp (70g) butter, melted

1 Tbsp lemon zest (zest of 1 lemon)

1 tsp lemon juice

1 Tbsp cinnamon

½ tsp kosher salt

½ tsp ginger

¼ tsp nutmeg

a few cracks (⅛ tsp) freshly ground black pepper

+

1 disc (½ recipe) All-Butter Pie Crust*

*I’ve posted my pie crust recipe on tumblr before tagged “recipes”

DIRECTIONS

1. Roast sweet potatoes: Preheat oven to 400°. Line a baking sheet with foil. Wash and scrub whole sweet potatoes. Pierce potatoes all over 3-5x with paring knife. Roast 45 minutes until fork tender. Let cool, then collect 3 cups flesh.

2. Prepare crust: Roll out pie dough (12-14” diameter circle, ¼” thick). Press into tin and crimp edges. Chill shaped shell in fridge or freezer until ready to use.

3. Preheat oven to 350°.

4. Make filling: Put all ingredients in food processor. Pulse 3-4x until smooth. (You can also use a blender, or simply beat ingredients until fully combined.)

5. Pour filling into pie shell.

6. Bake 45-60 minutes until puffed and firmly set (toothpick clean) everywhere except the very center, which should retain a very slight jiggle (but not look liquid). The center will set as it cools. Start checking at 45 minutes and continue baking at 5 minute intervals until set. (If crust gets too brown, shield edges with foil.)

7. Let cool completely before serving, at least 1 hour.

NOTES

Roast the potatoes whole, in the skins, so the sugars & starches properly caramelize. Do not steam or boil potatoes, even whole. They will take on water and make the filling soggy.

You can roast the potatoes up to 1 week in advance. Collect flesh day of.

PECAN PIE

MAKES: 1 x 8-9” pie

INGREDIENTS

2 cups (250g) chopped pecans

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar

1 cup light or dark corn syrup

¼ cup (56g) butter

4 eggs

1 Tbsp vanilla

1 tsp kosher salt

1 tsp cinnamon

+

1 disc (½ recipe) All-Butter Pie Crust

DIRECTIONS

1. Prepare shell: Roll out pie dough (12-14” diameter circle, ¼” thick), press into tin, crimp edges. Chill shaped shell in fridge or freezer until ready to use.

2. Preheat oven to 350°.

3. Cook sugar syrup: In a saucepan, bring sugar, corn syrup, and butter to boil over medium heat for 1-2 minutes, whisking constantly, to cook sugar. Take off heat. Let cool slightly, 3 minutes.

4. Temper eggs: In a bowl, beat eggs until lightened and frothy. Slowly, while whisking, pour ½ cup of warm syrup into eggs. Whisk to combine. Then, while whisking, slowly pour egg mixture back into the remaining syrup mixture. Whisk until smooth.

5. Whisk in vanilla, salt, and cinnamon.

6. Pour chopped pecans into bottom of pie shell. Pour filling over pecans.

7. Bake 45-60 minutes until fully set everywhere except the very center, which should retain a very slight jiggle. The center will set as it cools. Start checking at 45 minutes and continue baking at 5 minute intervals until set.

8. Let cool completely before serving, at least 1 hour.

NOTES

Many recipes do not require you to cook the sugar before baking the pie. However, pre-cooking the sugar (and tempering the eggs) ensures the ideal gooey, silky, perfectly smooth texture.

Toast pecans if desired: Arrange pecans in a single layer on a baking sheet and toast in preheated oven 5-8 minutes.

[uhhlifeig]

Harvest - October 1 - word count: 550 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin stood at the edge of the lake, wrapped in his woolen scarf, watching the gentle ripples in the water. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold. 

The sounds of laughter and chatter drifted from nearby groups, but he preferred this quiet spot, away from the bustle.

He felt a presence behind him before he heard the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. Sirius Black appeared at his side, grinning as usual, his hair windswept and his robes slightly askew. He held two mugs, steam rising from them.

“Hot chocolate with cinnamon,” Sirius said, offering one of the mugs to Remus. “Perfect for a day like this.”

Remus took it gratefully, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “You really are determined to make this as autumnal as possible, aren’t you?”

The ebony-haired boy chuckled. “Of course! Everything smells like spices. The leaves are practically showing off. I mean, look around.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile as Sirius gestured broadly to the landscape. The trees surrounding the lake were ablaze with oranges, yellows, and reds, and the grass was littered with crisp leaves. 

“I used to love this time of year,” the taller boy said quietly, his eyes on the horizon. “My mum would always make the biggest fuss about autumn. She’d bake all sorts of things- pumpkin pies, spiced bread. Our whole house would smell like cinnamon for weeks.”

Sirius looked over at him, his expression softening. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” Remus’s smile was a little wistful. “We’d spend hours in the garden, picking whatever was left before the first frost. Apples, squash, anything we could find. I’d help carry the baskets inside, and she’d tell me stories.”

Sirius’s hand found Remus’s, squeezing gently. “You never told me that before.”

Remus shrugged, glancing over at him. “It didn’t seem important.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Anything that makes you smile like that is important.”

Remus chuckled softly. “You’re a sap, you know that?”

“Only for you,” Sirius quipped, flashing him a grin. 

He tugged on Remus’s hand, pulling him toward a patch of trees where the leaves were thick on the ground. “Come on, let’s make our own harvest memories.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Remus asked, allowing himself to be led.

The animagus stopped in the middle of the trees, the ground beneath them a sea of red and gold. He released Remus’s hand and spread his arms wide, spinning in a circle as leaves crunched beneath his feet. 

“We live in the moment! Enjoy the leaves, the colors, the cold. We’re at Hogwarts, Remus!”

The werewolf watched, his chest tightening with fondness. 

“Alright, I’m in,” Remus said, putting his mug in stasis and summoning leaves into some large piles.

The autumn air filled with their laughter as they jumped in said leaf piles, their cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

Eventually, they collapsed onto the ground, breathless and grinning, surrounded by the vibrant colors of the season. Sirius reached over and brushed a stray leaf from Remus’s hair, his fingers lingering for a moment.

“You were right,” Remus said, looking up at the sky through the branches. “This is pretty perfect.”

Sirius smirked, lying back beside him. “Told you. We’ll make our own harvest traditions from now on.”

[infinitywrites]

I Didn't Expect You ~ Conrad Fisher

(Part 2) (Masterlist)

gif credit @henryofwales

synopsis: Y/N never expected it to be the summer that everything changed. Conrad, Belly and Steven were all dealing with the consequences of recent break ups while Jeremiah's wasn't acting like himself. Susannah was undergoing treatment that provided unpredictable health results and kept her loved ones on the edge of tragedy. Had they drained the well of the magic of Cousin's beach? Or could something new fulfil it again?

warnings: multichapter slow burn, warnings will update with every chapter, timeline is post SEASON 2 with changes, Susannah is sick, Belly is heartbroken, Jere is bitter, Conrad is struggling, everyone swears, Laurel/Cleveland, Belly and YN briefly critique their bodies but the focus is ultimately positive

word count: 2,275

___________________________________________

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

This summer there was no one to greet us when we pulled up at the beach house. It was quiet but the beauty of Cousin's Beach and the house itself was as overwhelming on first glance as it had always been. Maybe the sky seemed filled with a few more clouds, darker even without someone to remind the boys that the Conklin-Parks had arrived. Either way, Steven and Belly didn't seem to notice and were already grabbing their bags and bickering about who had their house key handy.

"Do you think we're the first ones here?" I asked as I walked up slowly to the property to look for signs of life.

Belly was by your side in moments, "No, Jere said he was picking up Rosie's for lunch. He should be here somewhere. They were supposed to get here a little early to make sure Susannah was all set up with…everything." I just nodded and watched her walk to the door with the key. It wasn't surprising that she didn't mention Conrad.

Belly had already vented her nerves about coming at all after her breakup with Conrad at Prom. I didn't blame her and assured her I'd be right by her side no matter what happened or what was said. Belly and Conrad grew up together just like the rest of us and if no one else would make sure a failed romance wasn't going to ruin that forever, I definitely was. They hadn't talked since and I promised I'd help her fix it and I would. Conrad would be reasonable about it whether he liked it or not. I was always a fixer, the Mom friend if you will, and there was no reason this could be fixed.

Last summer when I saw it brewing between them I couldn't help but worry. Of course, I wanted Belly to have what she'd always wanted but could Conrad really return her feelings of adoration and worship the same way? Apparently yes, for the six months they were together at least. But it had been three months since the breakup and I knew I had to do everything I could to refocus the group into supporting each other. There had been too much drifting and it broke my heart. Despite life changes causing difficulty in the planning of it all, everyone had agreed to come back to Cousin's for the 4th at Susannah's request so that was a great start. She would have insisted on the whole summer if she'd had the energy but it was time to accept that some things would just never be the same again. We were barely children anymore and the summers were going to change.

"Y/N! Come on, Jere's got apple cinnamon for you!" Steven called out to me from the open front door.

As soon as I entered the house, the smell washed over me, my shoulders sagging in relief and the comfort of finally being here and smellling that smell brought me. The greetings were quieter when I walked into the familiar kitchen full of people I loved most, just like pulling up to the house but that was okay too. Jeremiah squeezed me just as tight as he always had even if he didn't shout my name and lift me off your feet. This wasn't even the whole gang of people who'd been through hell and back the last year but we were all here. All coming back for Susannah's favourite holiday.

The pressure I put on this last summer before I moved halfway across the country to start my freshman year at Stanford wasn't fair to anyone, especially myself but it felt like the end of an era. With Susannah's health changing everyday, I wasn't sure if it could ever be the same again. Was the magic gone? And if so, could it ever come back again? The test would be when the house was full and the party planning was in full force. Susannah would put us all to work and everything would feel normal again even just for a little while.

"What the--Ohmigod!" I spun around and used my hands to block the cold water drops spraying all over me. "Fuck you too, cretin," I said glaring at the shit-eating grin standing in black surfing gear that awaited me.

Conrad has snuck up behind me during small talk and shook his shaggy soaked hair into the back of my exposed neck. "Always a pleasure Y/N, " he finally said, nodding without looking in my direction again and focusing on greeting the other new arrivals.

I was happy to see a short but sweet acknowledgement between him and Belly and she didn't even look like she wanted to die after so maybe this wouldn't be as hard as I thought. Laurel showed up last, announcing her presence at the door and warning everyone not to embarrass her in front of Cleveland. It was a surprise but a happy one and I knew instantly that Susannah was going to lose her mind in the best way. Conrad mentioned that she would sleep until dinner around 6pm so don't be late.

The boys made plans that didn't interest me or Belly and just as I thought they were leaving I saw Jeremiah pause and look at the guys with intent. Belly was always quick on the uptake and tried to protest but the tradition held strong. The boys celebrated a successful throw that had poor Belly flailing in the air so long it felt like slo mo and this time none of them fell for her tricks and got pulled into the pool after her. Not even me, though I should have when I felt bad for a moment, held my hand out and walked towards the edge of the pool in her direction. Conrad was quicker and scooped me right up off my feet from behind, just in time to escape Belly's trap as I gasped at the realization.

"You wouldn't! I didn't throw you in!"

"Yeah, and you didn't try stop them either!" But even in her feigned anger she was chuckling as she swam to the ladder.

After the shock left my body, I joined the boys in hysterical laughter. Conrad was still holding me tight but he must have lost his balance as I crashed to the ground on top of him. He was still in a fit, only uttering the occasional "ow" which spurred on more giggles that infected everyone else. I got myself together before he did and had to pry his surprisingly strong, wiry arms from my waist to be able to stand again.

"My god, you're like a world's tallest spider monkey." I was trying to give him shit but but the sight of him giggling on the ground made him look like a sweet toddler.

That helped sober him a little, "You love it...besides I saved your ass. You should be thinking up ways to thank me." I only caught his smirk after brushing the grass off my clothes but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and stare him down.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." This was ridiculous and everyone was listening to the two of us– but no, we'd always done this. This was the root of the relationship I'd always had with the oldest Fisher brother. He riled me up and I gave him shit. Simple. "Let me know if you have any special requests," I said over my shoulder as I headed back inside.

"Good idea! I'll text you!" He was yelling now, the idiot, but it was still making the boys laugh so the final word would be Conrad's this time. I could have sworn I'd heard him mumble about how uptight I could be and I was rolling my eyes as I met Belly in the hallway with an exasperated smile that she shared.

Conrad Fisher and I had never been the closest of the group, always seeming to piss each other off in one way or another as kids. Susannah had said that our personalities clashed and that it was a great challenge to overcome as we matured. Anyone would say that both of us were still working on the maturely overcoming it part. It's not like I thought he was a bad guy; he was my friend no matter what, someone who knew me better than most without even trying. If I set a hard boundary he was the first to listen, respect it and make sure everyone else did too while also being the one to lay into me if I screwed up somehow or rib me to death for acting stupid. It was infuriating at worst and addictive at best so I never judged Belly's undying admiration. He was always the leader of the group as the oldest and that came with a certain power that I later realized was also responsibility. Sometimes he knew what I needed even before I did. It was eerie, that sixth sense he had. He was actually pretty damn good at taking care of everyone so sometimes I even let him take care of me too. If Conrad was the fearless leader then Belly was the baby and while he made it look easy taking care of everyone else, I always knew how to take extra special care of her.

The two of you headed upstairs to the room you shared. It originally had a double bed for Belly but Susannah quickly changed it to two singles side by side the second summer you visited. Belly and I liked our tradition of unpacking first; it felt like being at our second home where everything had a place.

"So...how was it?"

I could hear Belly rolling her eyes before she even spoke. "Okay, it could have been worse. I thought he wouldn't even speak to me."

"Why wouldn't he speak to you?"

"Because the last thing he said to me was that he could never give me what I wanted and that I deserved better." She was frustrated as she said it and I couldn't help but sigh.

"I mean, there are worse things to say when you're breaking up with someone..."

"Y/N!"

"What? I'm sorry! It doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be hurt, I'm just saying at least he wasn't a jerk about it." I shrugged and put my pile of new pajamas in the bottom drawer.

Belly paused and turned to look at me, "He said he was sorry it happened that night but he didn't want to be angry at us anymore. Not even me, Y/N, but us."

I got up and went to stroke her arm in a soothing rhythm, "It wasn't fair how it happened but you said you could feel it coming."

Her eyes start to shine with unshed tears, "I thought it was Susannah...I didn't think it could just be me..." When her pretty brown eyes closed the tears ran down her cheeks but she didn't break down, she didn't sob. She just took a deep, steadying breath as her body shifted underneath my hand.

"Hey, it wasn't you, it was him. Look at you, it couldn't have been you, you're stunning!" I shook her shoulders as her lips turned up at the corners. "Absolute perfection! Come here and see." I guided Belly towards the full length mirror on the corner of the room and planted her right in front of it. "Now, I know you thought Conrad was Prince Charming and you'd live happily ever after but fairytales aren't real. But this volleyball bod is." I smacked her butt to make my point and snap her out of her gloomy daze.

"Oh! You're so ridiculous they need to invent a new word–" Hearing her giggle was always a joy because Belly giggled without a hint of shame.

"I'm not finished! I know a breakup can kill your confidence a bit and I need you to look at yourself and really see what you're bringing to the table this hot girl summer."

Even through a big smile she shook her head, "God no, you are so embarrassing."

"I mean, come on, tight ass already acknowledged, newish boobs that are perfectly perky as ever and the prettiest smile on the face of the planet! You can have any boy you want, Isabel Conklin!"

Belly's smile fell a bit as and twisted and turned in the mirror. "You don't think my shoulders are kinda...broad?"

I hung my head as the patience exited my body with a slump. "You're actually insane. Some of us have real problems like cellulite on our thighs and an ass that doesn't fit in most jeans."

"Oh, shut up! Steven told me Frankie and those guys call you 'the ass that won't quit'."

"Belly, I'm not sure that's a compliment." I didn't hate the nickname as long as they didn't say it to my face but I still wasn't sure it meant good things.

"You're delulu, Y/N. Okay, we gotta stop. You're right. Hot girl summer with me and my cousin in Cousin's!" She grabbed my hand and started shifting her feet like we were about to have an impromptu dance party.

I covered my face with my hands and stifled a giggle at the silly phrase, "I fucking hate when you start that shit..." And just like I expected, as my chuckle became a belly laugh, my baby cousin turned on the Bluetooth speaker in my room and we danced out all the pent up heartbreak, nerves, grief and leftover stress and sent it back home where it belonged.

___________________________________________

Author's note: I promise there is so much Conrad and romance coming up even if it wasn't much in this chapter! I hope you stick with me if you saw the potential. So much of this story was inspired by fics I've read in the last few weeks and this is my thank you! Reply with comments and let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist. If you'd like to ask me about any upcoming chapter warnings you wanna be warned of ahead of time (angst? 18+ smut?) then come visit my blog with any questions and I'll be happy to answer!

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

Something soft and sweet, maybe Buck feeding Tommy a dessert Buck made himself. As intimate as you wanna go 💕 thank you

Aww, that sounds very sweet. Tooth-rotting fluff is one of my specialties. :)

The loft smells like cinnamon and nutmeg. It coats the air like molasses, sneaking under the door and into the hallway. Tommy inhales deeply as he steps inside. The door closes behind him and Buck turns to gift him one of those bright sunshine smiles Tommy treasured. He studied it for a moment, tucking it away in his memory in a bubble of amber so it would never be forgotten.

"You're early, sweetheart," Buck said, coming around the island and pulling Tommy into his arms. They kiss softly, a gentle press of lips. Then again and again. "I'd hoped to have the pie ready before you got here."

"It smells amazing in here," Tommy said, inhaling again. This time, the warm scent of Buck's skin accompanied the cinnamon. It made Tommy's mouth water. "What are you making?"

"Apple pie," Buck replied, turning and gesturing towards the mess in the kitchen. He kept his arm around Tommy's waist, holding him close. "Thought I'd go traditional for dinner tonight. Never made one before. It's got about ten more minutes."

"Long enough for me to do this, then," Tommy replied

Slowly, Tommy walked Buck backwards to the island. He rewarded each step with a kiss. One on each eyelid, one on the tip of his nose, one on the curve of his chin, two each on his cheeks, one on his birthmark. He let his lips linger over the strawberry-colored mark as Buck leaned into the island.

Then, finally, Tommy brought his lips down to capture Buck's again. He wrapped his arms around Buck's waist, pressing their chests together. He could feel their breaths syncing up, moving in and out with each other. For a moment, he swore he could feel their hearts beating in time. The sensation made him feel light, giddy, and so very at home. It made the next words out of his mouth all but inevitable.

"I love you," Tommy whispered against Buck's lips. He couldn't help stealing another kiss as their lips brushed together on the last word.

"What?" Buck whispered back, more breath than voice. As if he was afraid of breaking the moment. "Do you mean that?"

"Yeah, yeah I do," Tommy said. He leaned back enough to meet Buck's eyes, half afraid and half hopeful of what he'd find there. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Buck smiled, curling his arms around Tommy's neck and bringing him down for another kiss. This one had hunger burning around the edges of it though, for now, it was still soft and gentle. "I love you too."

Tears burned in Tommy's eyes as he broke the kiss to look at Buck again. All he could see was joy and happiness and, yes, love. None of the fear or doubt or regret he'd been afraid of seeing. A chuckle rumbled in his chest and suddenly, he couldn't not touch Buck's skin. Couldn't not be as close to him as possible.

Sliding his hands under Buck's shirt, Tommy splayed his fingers over the skin of his back. Buck's skin was soft and warm as he arched into Tommy's touch. They kissed again, Buck's hand sliding into Tommy's curls to scratch at his scalp.

They kissed for a honey-sweet eternity until a bright dinging sound brought their attention back to the kitchen. Buck broke the kiss with a huffing laugh, mock-glaring at the kitchen timer on the island.

"I should get the pie out of the oven," Buck said, pressing two more kisses to the corners of Tommy's mouth. "Five seconds then I'm back in your arms."

"Deal," Tommy replied, rubbing his hand up and down Buck's back once. "I'm counting."

It took a little longer than five seconds but, once the pie was cooling on the stove, Buck and Tommy laughed and caressed and kissed their way up the stairs to Buck's bed.

Later, they would share a slice of pie and ice cream, feeding each other bites and licking the taste of apple and joy out of each other's mouths.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

BENEATH MILES OF STONE. XXII ;

❛ chapter map. ❛ John Wick x Fat fem reader. ❛ TW: nsfw. ❛ divider by saradika.

Fear gets her between them faster than she usually can be; she wedges herself into the gap and pushes Michael back.

John barely flinches at the contact with a palm he wasn’t expecting. He reaches for Michael, but stops when she attempts to shove him away with her own weight. The apparent look of anger on his face, comically garnished with flour, not at her but behind, toward her friend, puts her pulse in her ears. The world sways a bit as Michael tries to get past her. She holds firm, using the width of her body to block him off.

“Why are you protecting him?!” Michael demands. “He fucking kidnapped you!”

She and John both grit their teeth at the same time. “I’m not protecting him,” she hisses, looking directly at John but addressing Michael when she says this, terrified for her valiant friend’s life.

John stares at her, eyes narrowed. She stares back defiantly, skin burning and heart rate fast with anticipation. It’s stupid to stand between him and something he wants to maim, but the fact that he doesn’t already have Michael’s neck in his hands is testament that he doesn’t actually want to hurt him… not badly, at least. This calms her down, but she stays firm, blocking Michael from getting at John and vice versa.

Michael rolls his eyes. “I’m so scared.” His tone is mocking.

“Michael, please stop,” she pleads, “I don’t want you to die today, okay?”

Michael snorts and glares at John above her head.

John eyes him for a moment, upper lip twitching from annoyance so subtly that anyone who didn’t really like to look at his face wouldn’t notice.

“What is he doing to you that you’re so afraid of him?” Michael is now suspicious.

She slaps her head into her palm, sighing, and decides to try and mediate with words rather than her body. “He was keeping me safe, Michael. Something happened and I was being stupid for trying to leave.”

Michael sizes him up, and John almost grins. “Uh-huh.”

She opens her mouth, but John answers for her. “Michael?” His voice is calm, which only serves to poke her adrenaline higher.

“John,” Michael replies, spitting the name out better than any high school mean girl ever could.

She interjects. “John,” voice trembling, “This is Michael, he’s my roommate.”

“Hello Michael.”

“Heyyy,” Michael’s voice is laced with disgust.

“Do not hurt him,” she tells John.

Michael rolls his eyes, John rolls his jaw.

Tension sizzles hot, beading sweat on her neck, and she attempts with her softest, pleading-ist voice: “Can we just…start over? Please? I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Michael sighs. “Oh, hun…fine. But he’s on thin fucking ice.”

John finally smiles, with teeth, and even if there is a white powder handprint on his cheek, it doesn’t lessen the intimidation of his features when he does.

“Johnny?” She implores, looking up into his blackened eyes.

“I’m good,” John says.

He sits at the tiny kitchen table with a cold Coke while she looks over the mess on her counters.

“What are you making?” She asks, peering into the bowl.

Michael picks up the stirring spoon and shoves it to her face. “Taste,” he says.

“Michael, this is delicious! John, do you like cinnamon apple bread? Michael makes the best. Fucking. Cinnamon apple bread.”

“Never had,” John replies, toying with the edges of the chipped table.

“You’ve never had cinnamon apple bread?” Michael asks, spinning around.

“Not until nowwww,” she sings, smiling bright at him. “If you’re okay with staying…? John?”

“He better be. There’s no way I’m letting you go that easy.”

He looks between them, shoulders tight, thinking of how he’d be better off in a standoff than here. “Okay.”

The forehead kiss from her is worth it, and Michael, surprisingly, is not insufferable. He’s content to sit on the couch and eat cinnamon bread, which is delicious, and listen to her and Michael catch up and be charmingly nonsensical. A few times, she attempts to include him, before understanding that he’s more comfortable in the role of observer in social interactions, and smiles apologetically before changing course.

He likes watching her. The way she moves and talks, the infinite compassion in that tiny soft body astounds him. The roommate has a little burn on his finger from the oven, and she fusses over it until he lets her patch it up with cream and gauze.

John gets jealous of the way she is with Michael, which doesn’t surprise but does irritate him. While they watch a movie, he pulls her possessively into his side and wraps his arms around her despite halfhearted protests. Maybe he can’t entertain her as well, and make her giggle as endlessly, but he can trap her and never let her go.

So there.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this. Popcorn?” She whispers.

He nibbles it off her fingers, unwilling to remove his hands from her waist.

When the movie is done, Michael find an excuse to drag her away for a minute. “It’ll just be a second, need you to tell me what looks best for my date before Johnny boy steals you away again.”

Upon a glance back at John, he is scowling menacingly at the prospect of her being away in another room, and even makes to pull her back from Michael’s clutches before he sees and concedes to the pleading look on her face, and sits back down with a grumble.

Michael is on her as soon as he shuts the bathroom door. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. That. That out there. Jesus Christ, he is delicious.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not really knowing what else to say, worried that her knight in shining Kevlar is going to get the wrong idea about her and Michael.

“Yeah?!” Michael demands, jumping up on the counter. “Yeah?!” He sighs. “You’re in so much trouble, you know that? That man is gonna eat you alive and pick the bones clean, baby girl.”

Her face screws up, and he holds his palms up to stop the avalanche of thoughts no doubt ready to cascade through her brain. “Now listen,” he says, and she doesn’t, “I am not saying he is in any way too good for you or some dumb shit like that that you’re mind is inevitably concluding. I’m saying that that is a fucking wolf, and you are a sheep, and he’s going to ruin your life and I’m worried.”

Michael might be too perceptive for his own good. “Ruin my life?”

“Ruin you for any other man,” Michael corrects.

Too late for that.

“Babe, I am really not trying to be funny. Blink twice if you need help.”

She tries to contort her face into something other than an amused smile and fails miserably. “I like him Michael. I really like him.”

The understatement of the fucking century.

John helps her pack a bag. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the dress, a flouncy colorful thing that would pair lovely with braids and his face shoved between her thighs. He puts the bag down on her bed, grabs her while she’s rummaging in her closet, and sticks her up on her little dresser with his hips wedged between her legs.

“John, we—“

His mouth makes her stupid so easily, hands wrapping around her waist and clutching down, saying this is mine without words, and this too while he sucks her upper lip into his mouth.

His tongue seems to find new tender places every time it traverses the expanse of her neck and jaw and collar, the little crevices of honeyed sweat unexplored by any other before him, a treasure under her ear that makes her squeal.

“He’s right,” John says, pressing light kisses over her jaw.

“What?” She breathes, clutching onto his jacket so hard the leather creaks and dents.

“I am going to eat you alive.”

And then he licks the bite from her teeth off her lip, and kisses her so sweetly she wishes he would be meaner just to press some of the ache from her mouth…and heart…and hands and fingers and toes and right between her parting legs where his fingers sneak in and curl.

She’s slippery and soaked, and he raises an eyebrow in amusement at the contrary protest her mouth gives, kisses her again to swallow a low groan as he thumbs at her clit and tugs at her front walls.

She doesn’t want the roommate to hear, doesn’t want him to know she’s a wanton creature with desires and afflictions, and that’s understandable, but unneeded because, “I have you, dollbaby, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And she’s his no matter what, because he says so. Everything else is trivial.

He makes her cum and lets her bite his flesh so she doesn’t make too much ruckus (a wasted effort, on her part) then pulls his fingers from her tight little cunt and sticks them on her tongue. “Suck,” he says, watching her obey, lick and slurp her own sweet pussy juice of his digits.

His cock flares against his thigh, and he gets jealous, so he has to have a bit of cream for himself before she gets its all.

“See how good you taste?” He asks, fingers leaving in a wet pop from his mouth. “See why I can’t get enough of you?”

She tries to answer, but he kisses her, takes her tongue’s attention from syllables and despite the swollen, sensitive apex of her thighs makes her buck against him for more.

He groans against her mouth, because the dresser puts her right in line with his angry cock, and she grinds up against it, looking up at him through half lidded eyes, shy and needy and completely, helplessly irresistible.

He settles his hand around her collar, and smiles. “Hurry up.”

“Sure you don’t want me to take my time?” She muses, giggling evilly at the prospect of his painfully turgid cock.

“Oh?” He asks, pressing a little harder at her throat and watching her eyes flutter in pleasure. Good to know. “Wanna get fucked like an animal on your dirty blood stained mattress? Let Michael hear me ruin you and that pretty little cunt?”

She squirms, bucks her hips, and he chuckles. Too fucking easy. He loves it. “You little harlot.”

She kisses him again, maybe to shut up him up so her pussy stops clutching violently in need, and he laughs into her mouth despite the ferocity of her tongue and teeth.

“I want you to make love to me,” she tells his lips.

He doesn’t let her turn away from him when she says it, and his heart might as well have been shot through. “Finish packing.”

She smiles one more kiss into his mouth, bumps foreheads, and then lets him take her down off the dresser.

“Do you think this dress is okay?” She pauses, with it bunched in her hands and ready to go into the bag. “Probably not.”

“We can find something else,” he assures, unconcerned but already scheming up a pretty outfit for her.

“Oooooookayyyyyy,” she sighs, pushing it into her bag, anyway. She looks down, into the confines of the dresser it came from, and recognizes the robins blue cover of a forgotten gift, and smiles wide.

“Here, I got this for you.”

The big novel looks so tiny in his hands—it reminds her of when she was a kid, and everything seemed bigger compared to now—as he flips it over and reads the spine. “Oh, have you read this?”

“Uh, no. I just thought you’d like it. It’s about assassins and love. Have you read it?”

“No.” Then, he notices or rather realizes something: She doesn’t own any books. None that he’s seen. No shelf or stash. Her little case of DVDs lying next to the TV is the only entertainment he’s spied, and he wants to know why. “You don’t have any books?”

She shrugs. “I don’t read much. I mean, I used to. When I was young. A lot. But I just have no time for it, with work, you know?”

He blinks at her, feeling suddenly very horrible. Feeling like buying a house and stocking it with every book and movie she wants and keeping her locked in there to read and watch and eat and relax and fuck.

“What?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively.

“I love it,” he motions at the gift.

She gives him one of those smiles that threatens to turn his plasma into syrup and continues packing.

Michael wraps her into a big hug before she goes, glaring over her shoulder at John, who decides then that he likes him because of how much he seems to care about her wellbeing.

When she walks out, John lingers a moment to slip an unmarked envelope into Michael’s hands, and when he looks up to ask about it, John is gone, and the door is closed as if he hadn’t been there at all. Inside is a check to cover the rest of her rent for the next six months, along with a note explaining this.

Of course, Michael immediately texts her after she’s safely buckled into his passenger seat, and of course, she confronts him. There is nothing about her that would indicate she’s okay with someone doing that for her, and John doesn’t expect acceptance right away, although she’ll have to get used to it sooner rather than later. He explains, casually, “It’s not because I think you can’t pay it, or that I owe you something. I want to do this for you because that money is trivial to me compared to your security and happiness.”

“Twelve thousand dollars is trivial to you?” she asks through a mix of gratefulness and sheer outrage that he would even think of spending that much money on her.

He thinks about how to answer that, whether to tell her he can make that in three hours sitting at Viggo’s bar and ensuring no one decides to kill him, and decides that he wants to be as honest as he can. Gently honest. Ease in. “Twelve thousand means something else to people with my salary. It would be like ten dollars for someone middle class.”

She blinks, then, surprisingly, laughs at him. At the raised eyebrow and the quick glance to probably check and see if she’s gone completely wacko, she reassures him of her dwindling sanity. “You paid my rent with blood money.”

He cringes, but agrees.

“I can’t John. I know you do what you do, but I can’t. I’m telling him not to cash the check.”

The willpower it takes not to stop this car, spin and drift on the icy road, park at the corner and bend her to his will either by bending her over his knee or bending her in half while he fucks the fight out of her in the cold back seat is tangent. This reminds him that she is too ethical, too moral, and that he will need to ruin both of those illusions sooner rather than later.

A second later, all his anger fades when she speaks soft and timid, manipulating him with the big-eyed pout on her pretty face without knowing she’s doing it. “Are you mad?”

“I’m irritated,” he tells her, brushing his knuckles over her cold puffy cheeks to soothe the ache of truth. “But I understand. Although don’t think that will stop me from trying to convince you otherwise.”

He grins, and she shivers under his touch, because John can be very convincing. She supposes it’s not hard for him to be, especially looking like he does, carrying himself like he does.

——————————

She is trying on her flowery dress, and it’s tighter, spilling the fat of her tits over the top and framing the soft bulge of her tummy obscenely. She turns in the mirror, smooths down and sucks in and decides she hates it far too much to let anyone see her in it let alone John—except he’s already in the doorway, leaning casually and watching her, eyes downturned.

Out of all the things she can cover, her hands instinctually wrap around her stomach to hide it, and he smiles, deciding that is where he’s going to lick and kiss and suck first.

“It’s not—“ he’s on her, pressing her against the counter and bruising her already chafed mouth, uncurling her little fists and pinning them on the counter. She moans against his teeth, pressing her hips into his thighs, and he bites her bottom lip to distract her from where his hands cup and kneed. It doesn’t work very well, not for too long, and she’s torn between sensitivity and shyness, immediately covering his hands and giggling. She buries her head into his chest, holding onto him, not protesting just yet, and he inhales her.

“Johnnnnn, that tickles.”

“Oh, poor thing,” he tuts, not stopping.

His teeth nip the spillage of her tits while he hikes her dress up around her waist, and then remembers his sweet thing wants to make love, and grins and this little morsel of heaven before him. “Take your pretty dress off and get in bed.”