#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.

[ahqkas]

“CRY BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING ! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your boyfriend’s here, doesn’t matter if you need him during an important task. you need him now so that’s what he does; he shows up. WORD COUNT! 2.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, mention of reader’s hair + lmk if more found ! NOTES! based on this req.!! header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE GROCERY STORE WAS UNUSUALLY CROWDED FOR A FRIDAY EVENING, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly as you shuffled through the small grocery shop. You grabbed a cart and slowly pushed it past the holiday display at the entrance. The pine garlands and cinnamon-scented candles filled the air with cheerfulness of the holidays that felt out of place for your mood. The day had been fine, but a little . . . heavy, like the edges of everything you did were frayed. Shopping for groceries was supposed to be routine, calming even, but tonight it felt more like a chore.

You started in the produce section, eyeing the dark red apples stacked neatly in pyramids. Jason liked apples, especially sliced up with peanut butter, and you didn’t have any at home. You grabbed a few, along with a small bag of clementines—they were on sale, and the idea of peeling one later sounded comforting. You added some spinach to the cart, though you weren’t ure what you’d do with it yet.

The next aisle had the coffee and teas. You hesitated in front of the shelves, scanning for Jason’s favorite blend. He always said he didn’t care what kind of coffee it was as long as it had caffeine, but you knew he liked the dark roast with the smoky flavor. So, you grabbed a bag and tossed it into the cart before picking up a box of black tea for yourself.

In the dairy section, you grabbed a carton of eggs and some milk, along with a tub of the fancy Greek yogurt Jason pretended to hate but always ate half of when you weren’t looking. You added a block of cheddar cheese too, because he always complained when you didn’t have any “real cheese” in the fridge.

Finally, you grabbed a loaf of bread and a box of pasta before heading to the candy aisle. You’d been eyeing the peppermint bark in the holiday section earlier but didn’t grab it. Now you plucked a small bar of it off the shelf and dropped it into the cart. A little indulgence couldn’t hurt.

The cart wasn’t full, but it was enough. Enough to get through the week, enough to stock your kitchen for the nights Jason decided to stay over and make himself at home. He didn’t live with you—not officially—but his presence lingered in your apartment like a second heartbeat.

You made my way to the registers, where the lines were moving slowly. It was late, but the store was still busy, the energy of people rushing to finish errands before closing time crackling faintly in the air. You took your place in line, watching other customers inch forward and fiddling with the edge of your scarf.

It wasn’t a bad day, you reminded yourself, just a heavy one. You would unload the groceries back at home, make some tea, and settle in for the evening. Maybe you’d call Jason later, hear his voice and let the rough warmth of it carry you into something softer. The thought made the corner of your mouth twitch up in the faintest smile. And maybe he could even stop by, spend the night.

That thought warmed your heart.

The line at the register moved slower than you expected, giving you too much time to stand there, awkwardly fiddling with your scarf and glancing at your cart. The apples and kettle chips sat next to each other, an odd little pairing that made you think of your boyfriend. He’d swipe one of each, snack in hand, smirking like he’d outsmarted the whole grocery system.

Finally, your turn came, and you pushed the cart forward. The cashier was a lanky teenager with a mop of greasy hair tucked under his name-tagged baseball cap. His name tag read Trevor, but his expression read bored in bold letters. He glanced up at you briefly, his eyes darting over your cart with the kind of disdain only a teenager could muster before going back to his phone.

“Hey,” you greeted the kid politely, smiling despite yourself as you began unloading your groceries onto the conveyor belt.

“Yeah, hey,” Trevor muttered, clearly distracted as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He hit a button on the register with a little too much force and sighed loudly, like the very act of being here was an affront to his existence.

You handed over the loaf of bread first, thinking maybe you could set the pace for a smooth interaction. Trevor grabbed it and scanned it without a word.

“Paper or plastic?” he asked flatly, not bothering to meet your eyes.

“Um, paper, please.”

Trevor reached for the bags, shoving the bread in haphazardly before grabbing the apples next. The bag tipped slightly, the loaf threatening to crumple. You winced internally but said nothing, figuring it wasn’t worth the trouble.

As he scanned the rest of your items, you started to pull out your wallet. Your fingers fumbled for a moment as you searched for your debit card, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“Do you, like, need the receipt?” Trevor mumbled under his nose, tossing it into the bag before you could answer.

“Um—yes, please,” you said quietly, slipping your card out of the wallet at last.

The teenager rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. “Next time, maybe have it ready? Kinda holding up the line.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. You froze for a moment, face flushing as you quickly swiped your card through the reader. Your hand trembled just enough to make you fumble again, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up your neck.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not daring to meet his eyes as you hurried to finish.

Trevor didn’t respond to you anymore. “Next!”

You grabbed your bags as quickly as you could, your vision blurring slightly as you turned away from the register. Your chest felt tight, the weight of the embarrassing moment pressing against the bones of your ribs as you hurried out of the store.

By the time you reached your parked car, the tension had built to a boiling point. You set the bags down in the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The space felt safe, isolated from the world, and as soon as you were alone, the tears spilled over.

It wasn’t just the kid or his tone—it was everything. The way the week had dragged on endlessly, the tiny moments of frustration piling up like bricks until this one insignificant encounter became the tipping point.

You pressed your palms against the steering wheel, breathing uneven as the tears came in quiet, hot streams. They weren’t loud or desperate, just a release, a way to let go of the tension that had been weighing you down all day.

After a few minutes, the sobs subsided, leaving you feeling raw but lighter. You wiped at your face with your sleeve, sniffing softly as you leaned back against the headrest. The worst of it was over, but the ache lingered, a reminder of how fragile the balance could be sometimes. What you needed now was something solid, something warm to remind you the world wasn’t as heavy as it seemed.

Reaching for your phone, you scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over his name for a moment before you pressed it. The line rang twice before his voice came through, low and rough but tinged with familiarity and care. Jason always had a way of grounding you, his voice a tether when the world felt too loud.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his tone already softer than usual. “What’s going on?”

And just like that, the weight in your chest started to ease.

“Hi,” you said, the word wobbling despite your best effort. “Are you busy?”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that told you he’d caught on. Jason’s voice shifted, quieter but firm, like a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m not busy. You okay? You sound . . . upset.”

You hesitated, the urge to downplay it bubbling up. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though you knew it wasn’t convincing. “Just . . . had a moment. Nothing big, I promise.”

“Sweetheart,” Jason interrupted gently, his voice like a steady anchor. “Don’t do that thing where you act like it doesn’t matter. Talk to me.”

You sighed, resting your head against the window now. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s stupid. A cashier was kind of rude, and it just . . . got to me. I cried about it in the car, and I feel better now, but I guess I just—” Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily. “I wanted to hear you.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of pause that said he was listening, thinking about the best way to hold you from a distance. When he spoke again, his tone was warm and firm, a voice that could steady mountains.

“First of all, it’s not stupid,” he said. “People can be jerks, and it’s okay to feel what you feel. You don’t have to justify that to me—or to anyone.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He always had a way of cutting through the noise in your head, finding the simplest truth in it all. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Still in the car?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Just . . . sitting in the parking lot.”

He hummed softly, the sound almost like a purr through the receiver. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Take a deep breath for me—nice and slow. Can you do that?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you said softly, following his instruction. The air filled your lungs like it hadn’t in hours, grounding you.

“Good,” Jason praised. “Now, I’m on my way to you. Sit tight, and don’t you dare think about apologizing for needing me.”

“Jason,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t ‘Jason’ me, sweetheart. You’re my girl. That means if you need me, I’m there. Simple as that.”

The lump in your throat returned, but this time, it was different—softer, less heavy. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Always,” he replied, and you could hear the faint sound of him grabbing his keys. “Now stay where you are. I’ll be there soon. And when I get there, I’m giving you a hug so big, you’re gonna forget what the cashier even looked like.”

You laughed softly, the warmth of it surprising you. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Jason said, his voice lighter now. “I’ll see you soon, baby. Just hang tight for me.”

The call ended, and though the ache hadn’t fully disappeared, it was quieter now, tempered by the knowledge that he was coming. Jason didn’t just make the world feel manageable—he made it feel safe, like no matter how overwhelming the little things got, he’d always be there to pull you back to solid ground.

Ten minutes later, a sharp, sudden knock on the car window startled you out of your thoughts. You jumped in the seat, heart leaping into your throat as you turned to look—and there he was, standing outside in the cold, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the wind. Jason’s cheeks and nose were flushed a soft pink from the winter air, and he had one hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket, the other gesturing for you to roll the window down.

You blinked, processing his presence as he gave you a small, crooked smile through the glass. “Come on, sweetheart,” he called, his voice muffled but still rich and warm, like it carried all the heat you’d been missing. “You gonna let me freeze out here or what?”

Scrambling, you fumbled with the controls and rolled the window down halfway. “Jason? What are you doing here?” Your voice wavered between shock and something lighter, something closer to relief.

He gave a soft huff, his breath visible in the cold air. “You really think I was just gonna sit around after that phone call? Get outta the car, baby.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the earlier tears still clinging to you, but his steady gaze left no room for argument. With a sigh, you grabbed your scarf and pushed the door open, stepping out into the biting cold.

As soon as you were standing in front of him, Jason’s hands found your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he guided you closer towards him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and earnest, his green eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read all the parts of you you hadn’t said aloud.

You nodded, but the way your chin trembled betrayed me. “I’m fine,” I responded quietly, even though the words felt flimsy. “I was feeling better after we talked, really. You didn’t have to come all the way out here—”

Jason cut you off with a soft, knowing sound, one of his hands moving to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered, his knuckles warm against your cheek. “Yeah, I did,” his tone left no room for debate.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the cold wrapping around you but unable to penetrate the bubble of warmth his presence created. His thumb grazed your cheekbone, and you realized you had been leaning into his hand without thinking.

“You’ve been crying,” he said softly, the observation carrying no judgment, only quiet understanding. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know. Not ever.”

The lump in your throat returned, but it was smaller now, manageable. You took a shaky breath and gave him a faint smile. “I just felt stupid crying over something so little. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Jason’s brows knit together, his expression turning almost stern. “Hey,” he exclaimed, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. “Your feelings aren’t little. And I told you—no matter what, I’m here. You don’t bother me, alright?”

You nodded, swallowing hard as the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket. His sincerity had a way of melting through all the self-doubt you carried, leaving only the quiet reassurance of his steady presence.

“Good,” he said after a moment, his hand dropping to take yours instead. He laced your fingers together, his grip firm and grounding. “Now, give me your keys.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smirked, his nose still adorably rosy from the cold. “You’re not driving, sweetheart. Not when you’ve had a day like this. I’m taking you home.”

“You didn’t bring your bike?” you teased faintly, trying to lighten the mood.

Jason snorted. “In this weather? Hell no. Now quit stalling and hand ’em over.”

Reluctantly, you pulled the keys from your pocket and dropped them into his waiting hand. He gave you an approving nod before tugging you toward the passenger side door.

“Come on,” he said, opening it for you like the gentleman he only pretended not to be. “Get in. I’ll crank the heat for you.”

As you slid into the seat, Jason closed the door behind you and walked around to the driver’s side, his movements easy and confident despite the chill. When he settled in and started the car, the warmth of the heater began to fill the space, and for the first time that evening, you felt completely safe.

Jason reached over, brushing his hand across your thigh in a gesture so casual yet intimate it made your chest ache. “See? Already better,” he said, glancing at you with a lopsided grin.

And as the car pulled away from the parking lot, the groceries safely tucked in the back and Jason by your side, you couldn’t help but think he was right.

[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

[drgnflyteabox]

happy wife happy life

pairing: kate laswell x fem!reader summary: welcome home, soldier tags/warnings: housewife kink, oral sex (f), reader is emotional<3, vaginal fingering, mommy kink, age difference, dom/sub, self indulgent, soft, praise kink, tit play, dacryphilia, service kink, face sitting & 69ing, kate isn't into penetration but reader is, scent kink, orgasm delay/control w.c: 2.4k

Kate is back.

She’s in one of those moods again, contemplative and quiet. You’ve seen it before, and though you haven’t been official for that long you’re starting to recognize a pattern.

Her back is tense, shoulders hiked as though still defensive. There’s a physicality about her that’s different when fresh off her ‘missions’, as you’ve taken to calling them affectionately. Knots in her that don’t fade until she’s properly well-fucked, sat in a bath and had you waiting on her.

“Had a good flight?” you ask, voice soft. The lights are dimmed, too. Nothing overhead. A linen candle burns on the coffee table while dinner cooks in the oven.

A game, almost. You, the housewife and she, the returning soldier. It would be all true and not just half true if not for the fact that you’d just finished your third year of university, but it’s fun nonetheless to pretend. Doting on Kate is the most fun you’ve had in a while.

“Long,” she sighs. Her boots go by the door, nice and tidy the way you like it. Happy wife, happy life, she’d joked once.

She steps quietly into the room, surveilling it like it’s got some hidden threat. You stand and wait for a moment, waiting for her to lose a fraction of the tension she’s holding and deem your apartment safe.

Clear.

When she acknowledges you, you step toward her and press your nose to her cheekbone, inhaling. Cotton deodorant, some sweat underneath it, the smell of some flowery conditioner they’ve probably got for the women on base.

Her arms find your back, smoothing up and down like the softness of you is something she’ll never get enough of.

“My girl,” she says affectionately against your cheek, lips a little chapped but still soft. Airplane air, you figure.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you murmur, stepping back just enough that you’re facing each other. “Want a bath?”

Kate hums, so you pad diligently to the bathroom and set up.

Little tealight candles, a heap of epsom salts for her muscles, her favourite bubble bath scent. You know it's her favourite because she used to compliment you on the way your skin smelled, the way the smell of ylang-ylang and cinnamon would drift up from your skin on some of your first dates.

Hot water for the epsom salts to dissolve and for her likely sore muscles. It’s a treat for you, too, to watch her sink in and groan. Makes you feel warm inside. Accomplished.

“Mm,” Kate hums, stepping out of her work pants. You try not to look at her panties, then her pussy, but you must fail because she laughs in the quiet of the bathroom. “Greedy girl. Be patient.”

She’s a little overgrown, and your mouth salivates. You turn so she can’t see your hungry expression and pull out some bath oil.

“Here,” you squeeze a few drops into the steaming water. “For your airplane skin.”

She tilts her head back, smiling at you. You take a seat at the edge of the tub, trying again not to look at her soft breasts peeking through the bubbles and once again failing.

“Missed me?” she closes her eyes, smiling stretching into a grin. Her arms leave the water and hold the sides of the tub, as if ready to pounce.

“I always miss you,” you say, trying to be sweet. Trying to ignore the steady pulse between your thighs.

“Mm?” she pokes one eye open, sinking a little lower into the bath, wetting her hair. “Is it you missing me or is it that naughty little pussy?”

You suck in a breath, heart flipping.

“It’s me,” you squeak.

Her eye squints as the apple of her cheek pulls up, smiling like a prideful lion. You feel her finger draw light circles on the exposed skin of your thigh, hand tilted towards you.

“Don’t lie,” she says, ignoring the way your breath stutters like someone’s punched you in the sternum. “That isn’t polite.”

She always knows exactly what you need, when you need it. Never bothers drawing you in and never has, she’s always dropped you right in the deep end.

Mommy. You breath out, skin prickling and hot. Sex was something odd for you; something you’d never been able to fully enjoy before Kate, not with your propensity for turning the act into something people usually don’t sign up for.

You’re a crier, is what it is.

Sex is vulnerability for you. A shedding of layers, an extension of tender trust and expectation of care you haven’t found much in strangers, and so casual never worked for you.

Kate wasn’t casual. She’d bent you till you broke the first week of knowing her, weeping fat tears onto a hotel pillow and saying thank you mommy, I love you mommy. Cracked you open and spilled your insides into the palm of her hand.

Not even a few months later and she knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger. In more ways than one.

“I really did miss you,” you breathe. Her fingers touch your knee, tapping idly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she closes her eyes again, tipping her head back. The line of her neck shines from the heat, illuminating faint scars and skin turned tan from hours in the sun.

God, you feel shameless. Your throat tightens, thighs coming together, clit swelling. Though her eyes are closed, Kate exudes a smugness you know is helping her unwind. Giving her that power helps the both of you. It’s a bonus that it feels so good.

You end up leaving her to soak. The lasagna looks good in the oven, steadily bubbling under the tinfoil. In two minutes, you’ll peel it off and let it crisp up, hoping Kate will touch your cheek and call you a good wife.

She emerges in a towel, clean and white and sprayed with your linen laundry scent. Her skin still steams a little, but her shoulders have relaxed and her neck isn’t so stiff.

“Looks good, babygirl,” she throws a terry cloth robe on and sits, letting you slide a plate full of lasagna and Caesar salad towards her.

“Thank you,” you tuck in. Cooking is nice, but nicer when it’s for Kate and exam stress is behind you. The freedom of time and the motivation to impress her really pushes you to do your best, and the feeling of gratification as she licks her fork rivals only the needy throb of your cunt.

“I thought I told you patience,” she raises a brow at you. “I can see you squirming.”

“Can’t help it,” you sigh, trying to lick your fork to tempt her.

“No? Do you need another lesson in patience?”

“Ah, no, no. I can be patient,” you don’t want another lesson; don’t want to see her stern tonight. Already your chest pinches with emotion, both her recent absence and the elation of seeing her again fighting a tug-of-war over your heart.

Doing the dishes takes a distinct amount of self control, but you manage it. Even though she stands beside you, smelling so good and wearing only a robe with her sternum exposed, you manage it.

She turns to you when the last plate is dried, when the lasagna is put away, and grabs your hips in a firm grip.

“Bedroom?”

Though you’ve been acting like a bitch in heat panting over her since she stepped in the door, you appreciate the check-in.

“Mhm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah, bedroom,” you’re barely finished saying it when she gently spins you, crowding up behind you and walking forward to push you in the direction of your bedroom.

It’s practically shared at this point, what with how often she’s here between her deployments.

Kate kisses the side of your neck, inhaling your skin and sighing like she’s saying finally.

Fuck if you aren’t feeling the same way.

“Kate,” you breathe, hands cupping over hers as she reaches up to squeeze your tits.

“Ah ah,” she tuts. “You know what to call me, my girl.”

“Mommy,” and it’s nearly a whimper.

You’re spun again, gently still, and then stripped of your dress. Kate rubs your sides appreciatively before she unclips your bra, letting your tits fall into her hands.

“Beautiful,” she smiles. Your underwear comes off next, her sure hands sliding them off and tapping your calves to get you to step out of them.

You stand naked in front of her, already hazy, already soaking and wetting your inner thighs.

“I’m gonna sit on your face, sweetheart,” she slowly pushes you, letting the back of your knees hit the bed first before your butt does. “Lay back for mommy.”

You lay back, scooting a bit up the bed to give her room.

“I’m going to use you, mkay?”

You nod.

“Words, babygirl.”

“Use me,” you breathe, skin tightening over your whole body, forming two points at your nipples and making you shiver. Kate crawls on top of you, turning to face your body when she reaches your head.

“Keep your hands at your sides,” she orders.

Though you can see her pussy, though it’s so fucking close to your face you can hardly stop yourself from moving, you wait like a good girl as she sheds her bathrobe and slowly lowers her hips.

She smells good. You’ve never expressed it out loud before for fear of judgment, but you love the way she smells.

Kate is particular about what she likes, and she’s taught you her preferences diligently. No fingers, nothing but your hot little tongue inside her.

You run the tip of your tongue around her clit, then toward her hole, spreading her lips with your tongue and licking between them, softly at first and then building pressure. The flat of your tongue rubs against the hard nub of her clit and makes her sigh with pleasure. Her bush tickles you a little.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she swivels her hips a little as you push your nose between her folds, letting her grind down on it as you lap at her.

The wetness between your legs grows until you feel a damp spot under you, thighs rubbing together as she ignores your neediness in favor of reaching down to tweak your nipples.

“Mm, make mommy come and then I’ll give you a kiss,” she sighs.

You suck her clit into your mouth, teasing her a little with your tongue and feeling her thighs tense beside your head.

Wetness coats your nose, your cheeks, your mouth and chin. She tastes good, too.

You feel it the moment she starts to come, her clit pulsing against your tongue, hands gripping your breasts like anchors in a storm. You moan into her, knowing the vibrations are helping her alone.

“Good girl,” she pants, grinding out the last little aftershocks. “My sweet girl deserves a reward for a job well done.”

And finally, she leans forward and spreads your pussy lips with her fingers, diving in with the point of her tongue aimed for your clit.

“Mmm,” Kate moans as you lick her gently, returning the favor between your own legs. “She’s needy, isn’t she sweetheart?”

You moan against her again in agreement.

“If only you could see this desperate little clit,” her voice is pleased, amused. Smug again. “Jumping out at me, begging for attention.”

You don’t need to see it — you can feel it. Your clit juts out, sensitive and tender. The feeling of her wrapping her lips around it and sneaking two fingers below and into your hole makes tears sting at your eyes.

“Always so sensitive,” she murmurs. “That’s alright, let it out.”

It becomes harder to focus on your task, but you try. Her second orgasm builds much slower than the first, coming in tandem with yours.

“Wait ‘till I come again,” she warns.

You try to hold it, desperately spearing your tongue into her and rubbing your nose against her clit. She twitches against you, breathing harder, moaning.

When she does come, finally, you let yourself release and your tears mix with the wetness already on you.

“Fuck,” she curses. “That’s good, good girl.”

You shake, pleasure cresting in waves over you, body alive and singing and relishing in the feeling of her skin over yours.

“Mmmhn—” you pant, hands clenching at your sides.

Kate sits up, swinging a leg over and laying down beside you. Her hand finds your stomach, gliding over it with her nails and making it jump.

“Such a good girl,” she kisses your jaw, sucking a mark into it. Her fingers move from your stomach down to your cunt again, spreading you open and pressing inside.

You pant, tears squeezing out of your eyes and trembling from sensitivity.

“You’re going to give me another,” she sucks your earlobe. “One more, for mommy.”

“Yes, mommy,” your mouth falls open and you shout.

Her hand cups your pussy, two fingers curled inside you as her palm presses hard into your sensitive clit. She murmurs soft words into your ear, and though you can’t hear them well you let them shelter you as the storm of your pleasure builds and builds and builds—

Until you come apart in her hands again, crying out and arching your back and clenching your hole against her fingers.

You sag against the bed as you finish, shivering with some aftershocks and sensitively, whining as she pulls her fingers out.

“So good for mommy,” she praises. She lifts her hand and sucks her fingers clean, leaning forward and doing the same to your mouth.

You end up in a messy kiss, more licking than anything.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, mommy.”

“Mm, my good girl. Ready for a shower?”

Another aspect of your relationship you hadn’t been able to find elsewhere — she cares for you after, too. You know it's normal, expected even. But it still touches you, still fills you with a kind of glowing warmth that’s impossible to hide from her.

Especially when she’s relaxed now. When she’s letting you scrub her back and doing the same for you, filling the bathroom with that same scent. Ylang-ylang, cinnamon.

The sheets are a mess, but you drag a quilt over them and resolve to do them in the morning.

Kate curls around you, cocooning you against the world.

“I love you, my girl,” she kisses your cheek.

“I love you too, Kate. Goodnight,” you yawn.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[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.

[starhvney]

Hi!! Saw your requests were open for the December event and got super excited!

Can I order a coffee, with cinnamon and an apple turnover for Laurance and Gene MYS? :D My friend and I absolutely adore your fics, keep it up!!

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟔: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: established relationship, hurt/comfort, reader is sick

𝐚/𝐧: ugh i love laurance and gene sm. also, thank you!!! i hope you and your friend like this one, too!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑��𝐍𝐂𝐄

“My love, my light, my everything, if you try and get up one more time when I’m not looking I will have to chain you to the bed.” Laurance tilts his head up, looking down at you with a half-joking, half-serious warning in his eyes.

You freeze on the edge of the bed from where you were attempting to get up and walk around. Ever since your doting lover found out you were sick you’d barely left this bed if only to use the bathroom. While you enjoyed his insistence on pampering you (which he did regardless if you were sick or not), you’d been feeling pretty useless and bored after doing nothing in your bed the past few days.

As you’re about to argue for your freedom, the savory scent of soup hits you, and you glance down at the steaming bowl held in his hands.

“…What’s that?”

He grins, coming to the bedside and—with one hand—grasps onto your ankles to move them back onto the bed before plopping himself right next to you. “Delicious soup, homemade by yours truly, of course.”

“I told you you can just give me canned soup. You don’t need to keep cooking something for me every time I need to eat…” you murmur, sitting straighter and trying to reach for the bowl.

He scoffs, seeming almost—no, definitely offended at the notion as he pulls the bowl away. “Do you really think I’d do anything less for my girl? Also, stop trying to grab it, you know I’m going to be the one feeding you.”

“I’m not incapable of feeding myself.”

His eyes soften, setting the spoon back in the bowl for a moment to brush your cheek with his fingers. “I know you can, my love. But I want to do it for you anyway. Just like I’ve brushed your hair and done your laundry. I like taking care of you.”

Your chest warms at his matter-of-fact tone, his insistence on how simple doing all of these things for you was for him making you practically melt on the spot. He sighs softly, eyes sparkling with admiration before he picks up the soup spoon, gently blowing on it and testing the heat on his own lips before lifting it to yours.

You gladly take it, the liquid soothing on your dry, sore throat. The taste—while a bit dimmed from your stuffed nose—was amazing. It was herbal with sweet undertones, the mix a perfect remedy for your symptoms.

“D’you like it?” he genuinely asks, eyes darting across your face for a reaction. “I threw some different stuff together. It’s a new recipe I just made up.”

Biting your lip, you glance to the side, a playful cadence in your tone. “Hmm… I don’t know…”

He narrows his eyes, tilting his head down and looking up at you through his lashes.

“…Just kidding. It’s delicious.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” He smirks, lifting up another spoonful and cooling it before speaking again. “How about after this, since you’re so bored, we can play a board game or something?”

You take in the spoonful, humming gratefully before responding. “That would be perfect. Thank you, love.”

“Anything for you.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

“Hm. You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that, doll.” Gene leans on the doorway, eyes playfully narrowing at your form as you hunch over the sink—cleaning away at the dishes. He sets down the grocery bag on the counter when you sheepishly refuse to respond, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and press a kiss against the side of your head. “How’re you gonna get better if you keep refusing to rest?”

“I’m already feeling better than yesterday…” you murmur, leaning back into his chest as you let the soothing warm water continue to run over your hands.

“But you’re not better. Just cause you feel better today doesn’t mean you’re fully healed, silly girl.” He scoffs, pinching your sides. “Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

“Because I’m fine…” you stubbornly whine, trying to wriggle away from his mischievous hands to no avail.

“No, you’re not…” he parries back, mimicking your tone with an amused lift to it.

You open your mouth to refute his statement once again, but not before getting spun around in a quick motion. Taking no care for the water still on your hands, he leans down to scoop you up in his arms, setting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before straightening again.

“Wh- Gene!” you yelp, receiving a short laugh in return as he spins around twice with you in tow, your flipped vision blurring and spinning with the tiles.

He starts to walk out of the kitchen with a wide stride, disorienting your already dizzy head as you try to recover from his sudden attack. Low groans leave your mouth as the man lugs you off into the house, your headache you’d been fighting off all day coming back full force in an uncomfortable throb against your temples.

Only a moment later you’re set upright again as he gently places you onto the couch. He rests his hands on his knees and bends forward, eyes darting over your form as you pathetically melt into the couch with another disoriented huff.

“Yeah… You still gonna argue with me that you’re better now?” He raises his eyebrows. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“You threw me over your shoulder!”

“I’ve done it plenty of times, sweetheart, and you never complained before. So you’re either admitting you’re still sick or lying.”

Your mouth gapes open, no further defenses coming from your mouth as your head continues to throb. In the small moment of your hesitation he huffs in satisfaction, his large hands cupping your face gently as he leans in for a deep kiss, lips pressing into yours intently.

“Mph! You’re gonna get sick!” You shove him back by the shoulders with wide eyes. He only separates enough to look you in the eyes, his face turning smug.

“But I thought you weren’t sick, baby.” he whispers, lips quirked up.

You flop over on your side in defeat, groaning when your head throbs again in protest at your quick movement. Gene follows, leaning over you and brushing your face with a genuine pitiful look on his face. Leaning down, he kisses your cheek before pulling back, looking over the state you were in with a sigh.

“Your head hurts?”

You nod.

“M’sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.” he says gently. “I’ll get you some more medicine and then we can cuddle on the couch. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Good. Now stay here, doll.”

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa

[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.”