#jam and canned apple pie filling because it’s good

[blackholesandlions]

successful hamentaschen

[the-moral-of-the-rose]

The collection of Blythe children's favourite desserts:

Jem: gingerbread with whipped cream, muffins, apple crunch pie:

"Gingerbread and whipped cream was Jem's favourite dessert. But tonight it had no charm to soothe his stormy soul." (Anne of Igleside).

"And Little Jem shall have his favourite muffins for breakfast." (Anne of Ingleside).

"And Bertie had to go home that day without getting a piece of a wonderful concoction Susan called "apple crunch pie" and made regularly for the two boys and their pals." (Anne of Ingleside)

Walter: Queen pudding, monkey-faced cookies

"Drat her hide," muttered Susan as she went out for the dessert...Walter's favourite Queen pudding." (Anne of Ingleside).

"Susan had whisked on a fire, got him a hot cup of milk, a slice of golden-brown toast and a big plateful of his favourite "monkey face" cookies" (Anne of Ingleside).

Di: chocolate, pie*

"Di had et his chocolate rabbit that forenoon though she knew it was his rabbit." (Anne of Ingleside).

"Can we have a roast chicken, Susan...with lots of stuffing? And pie. You don't know how that poor child longs to taste pie. They never have pies...her stepmother is too mean." (Anne of Ingleside).

Nan: fruit puffs, cookies*

"But now the pretty things...her share of them anyhow...would belong to Cassie Thomas. Cassie Thomas would take her part as fairy queen in the forthcoming Sunday School concert and wear her dazzling band of tinsel. How Nan had looked forward to that! Susan would make fruit puffs for Cassie Thomas and Pussywillow would purr for her." (Anne of Ingleside).

"The cookies...cut in the shape of roosters and ducks...were surprisingly good and fairly melted in your mouth.[...]perhaps some day she would go and see Thomasine Fair again and get some more of those nice cookies." (Anne of Ingleside)

Shirley: bread and jam, maple sugar buns*

"Shirley, if you haven't got that new magazine all sticky with jam!" (Anne of Ingleside).

"Susan had waited for the evening coolness to do the family baking...but maple sugar buns, like all else, were just vanity." (Anne of Ingleside).

Rilla: "Gold-and-silver cake", maple sugar buns

"Alas, when dinner time came the cake, done to a turn, filled and iced, was sitting triumphantly on the kitchen table. It was a favourite cake of Rilla's..."Gold-and-silver cake" did sound so luxuriant..." (Anne of Ingleside).

*Sadly, nothing was said about Di and Shirley's favourite desserts. "Maple sugar buns" were mentioned in Rilla's chapter as "a family favourite", so I suppose Shirley loved them too. I chose fruit puffs for Nan's favourite dessert, because it was among the things she loved and thought she'd have to give away to Cassie Thomas. And Di stole Jem's chocolate rabbit... also, she was her father's (who was the biggest fan of pies!) child, so loving pies might have run in her blood... (especially since it was the one dessert she requested for Delilah's visit).

If you remember any other desserts the kids loved, feel free to add them here!

@pinkenamelheart's post about Gilbert being the pie-fan inspired!

[janzoo]

I have been thinking and feeling (and hearing, har har) about Estinien a lot recently, especially his early life in Ferndale, and I have some headcanons to foist upon you all. I'm going to refer to his parents as Ma and Pa.

The Varlineaus were shepherds (canon), though Ma kept a garden (most homes in Ferndale did) with an apple tree. She taught Estinien and Hamignant a lot about caring for the plants she grew. (Estinien's forgotten some of it by now, though I'd like to think his memory could be refreshed.) Ma loved that apple tree and gave it a lot of special love and care. Otherwise she grew herbs, and food that was good for preserving and pickling because...

(More under the readmore)

Ma and Pa's generation saw a really bad winter hit Ferndale. As a result, they were big on preserving and pickling to ensure their family would never face starvation like that. Although Estinien isn't a disaster in the kitchen, his skills are pretty simple. (Sandwiches, eggs, steaming/boiling veggies, etc.) However, he inexplicably retains all that Ma taught him about the pickling/preserving/jam-making process; probably in large part because he always helped her and it was one of his favourite things. This also goes with a oneshot wolstinien fic I wrote in which Estinien remembers that Hamignant's favourite food was pickles. (As in standard pickled cucumbers.)

Shifting to something else a little, Estinien won't kill bees. Wasps/hornets/etc. sure, if he must, but not proper bees. Ferndale respected bees, nigh on revered them even, for their vital role in pollination. One of the other families in Ferndale were beekeepers, and they adamantly adhered to telling the bees. (Basic version: telling the bees is an old beekeeping practice of informing a beehive of major local happenings, especially births, deaths, and marriages. Yes, as in the beekeeper talks to the bees. In the case of marriages, the bees need to be brought a piece of wedding cake. Failing to do this is said to result in misfortune befalling the hive, and by extension, the community. Practices vary by country/region.)

In a similar vein, the people of Ferndale were fairly superstitious. With the population likely being mostly, if not entirely Elezen, they leaned heavily into being "long of ear" as a sign of good fortune and general physical attractiveness. At least once a day, Ma or Pa used to pinch Estinien and Hamignant's ear tips and give them a little tug to "help them grow". It was, of course, uncomfortable and obnoxious, but there was no getting out of it. This was practised across Ferndale.

So TL;DR, Estinien can make preserves, pickles, jams, even pie fillings if he wants (though not the crust lol), he's probably sleeping on some old plant-care/botany knowledge, his parents used to pinch/tug his ears, and he respects he hell out of bees.

[thelovelymachinery]

Food Questionaire Tag!

Tagged here by @wyked-ao3

Rules: Answer the food-related questions provided using the voices of your OCs. The yummier the descriptions, the better!

I will be kidnapping Joyce from WSFTI because she seems very loved and Aurelia also from WSTFI

what is one comfort meal that'll change your whole mood for the day?

Joyce: I love love LOVEEEE the fresh apple pie that Lia makes me and Aunt Vicky makes the BESTTTT hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies! Aunt Vicky can't have any of it so there is always extra for me! Aurelia: Joyce, dear, they meant meal. Not dessert. Joyce: Whatever. Your turn, Lia! Aurelia: I really enjoy a nice garden salad with a poppy seed dressing. Joyce: Ew.

what is an experience (good or bad) that has turned you off or on to a food completely?

Joyce: I was eating a jam cookie Lia made and wasn't told it was rhubarb and strawberry jam so when I bit into it I got the stringy rhubarb and threw up. I can't have jam cookies anymore. I liked jam cookies. Aurelia: It was my cookie. You stole it. Joyce: It was still gross! Aurelia: Fine. Okay. I don't believe my story is appropriate for young ears. I can no longer eat or look at meat. I have gained an addiction to apple pie from when Aereth made some with me, it was a mess and we ate most of the filling before we could cook it. The kitchen was a mess, we got in so much trouble.

if you could eliminate one piece of produce, meat, dairy or sweets off the earth what would it be?

Joyce: Chicken. It's so gross looking and feeling when raw, it makes me sick. I also don't like cheesey cheeses, it's too much cheese especially when eaten alone. I also don't like lettuce, it's gross. Celery and rhuarb are stringy, I don't eat them. Aurelia: Oh my gods. I will sound like such a child but I hate carrots. They're hard and taste gross.

and dessert is normally saved for last, but if you could what would you order for your entree at a restaurant?

Joyce: Spinach dip! Or mozerella sticks! What if we dip the mozerella sticks in the dip? I'll be back later, I need to do this! Aurelia: Joyce! That isn't- get back here! Fine, go try your thing. I like a nice apple turnover, Joyce loves anyting chocolatey or apple. She has my tastes.

what are some food fusions that should never be mixed?

Aurelia: This will be so weird but I don't like crackers or noodles in or with soup. Joyce loves them so I just give her my noodles or crackers. She thinks the second a vegetable is added a dish is ruined. Don't tell her but I add vegetables in all of her food.

what food spot are you gatekeeping and why?

Aurelia: Don't tell anyone but there is this little Dyntian spot in Flightsylvania that Drewy and I visit at least once a week. It's run by the sweetest old couple, I think they adotpted us as their's. Drew and I help out around and bring them gifts. Joyce will be annoyed but she loves this one ice cream truck. We don't want to have to make reservations or wait in line so keep this quiet.

cooking is a life skill, why haven't you started learning yet!?

Aurelia: I'm a fairly good cook, it's Joyce's excuse for not learnng to cook because she says that Vicky and I cook well enough that she never has to learn.

Is there a smell that reminds you of something you never want to remember?

Aurelia: Raw meat.

Interact here to be added to my taglist.

@thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd @wyked-ao3 @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling

@the-letterbox-archives @bookwormclover @leahnardo-da-veggie @bio-blegh

[m34gs]

Twisted Wonderland ask: If every dorm ran a bakery what would their Signature Baked Item(TM) be and why? Please be specific to the item (ie: can't say "chocolate cake").

Hi friend! What a lovely ask, thank you! I am looking forward to answering 💜

Heartslaybul - I think Heartslaybul's bakery would have very delicious tarts. For their Signature Baked Item, I would think a raspberry jam-filled tartlet, with a crown design baked and placed carefully on the top. I chose raspberry because I really enjoy the flavour and I like the beautiful deep red colour of the jam. I feel the red would fit very well in a Heartslaybul theme, and the crown of course represents the Queen of Hearts.

Savanaclaw - Ok, we ALL know how Ruggie lost his mind in the Tsumderland event and cried "They turned Leona into a marketable plushie!!!😭". So like, you know Japanese Hamster Bread? Like that, except little lions. Entirely Ruggie's idea, and he is ecstatic at the profit they are bringing in. (Leona has no clue this is a thing. Ruggie will not tell him. Vil buys one every week just so he can bite its head off and then gives the body to Rook.)

Octavinelle - Cupcakes. They're fun and there's so many ways to decorate them. Specifically, for the Signature Cupcake: a purple batter that bakes into a lovely lilac coloured cupcake. The decoration: icing of blues and greens in a pattern that resembles waves, with a cream-coloured coiled shell made entirely of icing on top, and edible silver ball sprinkles scattered over it. I would like to think Azul has them make a "surprise" cupcake. There's always one cupcake per batch that has a filling of some kind, cream cheese icing, chocolate, vanilla...basically whatever Floyd is feeling that day (the cupcake itself is a vanilla flavour, which goes with pretty much any other flavour). The thing that draws people in is that they could get the cupcake with the filling! Rumour has it, the filling cupcake is Lucky and will help you pass your exams/assignments with flying colours (a rumour that Jade Definitely Did Not Start) and so demand is high. Which, of course, allows Azul to charge more for the cupcakes. You know. Supply and demand.

Scarabia - Thumb-print cookies with different jam fillings. They're colourful, you can buy a bunch at a time and share them, and the jam filling looks like edible jewels. I think Kalim would like these very much and I think he would want them to be the number one baked good in the store. They're not very difficult to make, so he even gets Jamil to teach him so he can help stock the store with more cookies. (I feel like Jamil would have to remind Kalim that people want more than just cookies from a bakery lol)

Pomefiore - Apple Pie. I know, I know...not very original or shocking. But, not just any apple pie. Mini apple pie shaped like a rose. Gorgeous and elegant, it tastes as delicious as it is beautiful. (If you can't picture it, please see in this link here) Of course, Epel's hometown supplies the apples. Rook is weeping at the beauty of the pies. Even Vil will have one, since it is small and not excessive.

Ignihyde - Specialty cookies. You know the ones; they're large cookies, a plain base, with gorgeous - sometimes even intricate - designs done in icing. I feel like the designs would change frequently, to fit the themes of the seasons, holidays, or ongoing releases of popular games/movies/etc. The designs are ART. Cater comes at least twice a week to buy a cookie and take pictures for Magicam. (At first he felt guilty because he didn't want to betray his bf, Trey, but then Trey said he wanted to try one, so they started going together on their dates.)

Diasomnia - Buns. Buns with...unique...fillings. Multiple unique fillings. Is it really so much a signature item as it is a game of roulette? With Lilia at the wheel, it's never a guarantee if the bun will even be edible...But somehow, that makes the other students even more eager to try it. It becomes kind of like Beanboozled. They make a game of it: who can chew the longest without swallowing or spitting it out, who got the best flavour, can you finish the entire bun or will you leave hungry? Lilia is having the Time of His Life and Silver is too afraid to go in the kitchen.

There you have it! My headcanons on what each dorm would have as a signature item if they ran a bakery! Hope you enjoyed, and please tell me your own thoughts! What signature items would you assign each dorm? I'd love to hear!

[elminx]

A Year in Review: Kitchen Witch Version

My year started out strong with me sharing and creating in the kitchen and then petered out some during the late Summer/Fall as I was struggling to adjust to the new medication that I have been on. This is interesting because my partner has been in school all Fall so I cooked a lot more than normal (we normally share 50/50 of the cooking and I was doing most of it); I just didn't share it.

I made some really good eatings this year.

Early in the year, my partner and I made some Fire Cider which we turned into some incredibly yummy Fire Cider Bloody Marys. I also had a great time celebrating Fat Tuesday with some friends and I finally perfected making a Hurricane by using Fassionola, a very traditional tiki syrup that has gone out of fashion.

I also tried my hand at making Duck L'orange though I didn't get good photos of that (I think that my friends and I may plan an orange-themed dinner sometime soon, so we'll see if we get it written up for next year). We also continued our experiments with Eastern White Pine flavored vodka.

Spring arrived fast as it always seems to and I got back to my flower experiments. It turns out the Forsythia jelly is to die for and I continued my Violet Experiments - this time with Violet jelly as well as the violet simple syrup that I make every year which we turned into the most amazing Violet Birds of Paradise cocktails while we were on vacation at the beach. I also tried my hand at more cooking with flowers. For May Day, we made dandelion gnocchi as well as a fresh cheese ball made from chevre and tulips. I also made a spectacular Chive Vinegar from the first chive harvest from my garden.

Summer starts with the first pickups of our CSA farm share and my household becomes overflowing with fresh produce. I used the early cilantro and garlic scapes to make a lovely Cilantro Pesto and then got into canning and preserving for the season. For Midsummer, I made a lovely Strawberry Jam with a bonus Black Pepper Cocktail and I tried my hand at making canned Blueberry Pie Filling. I also tried my hand at canning sour cherry jam and making fresh cherry syrup. The end of the summer saw us canning all of the tomatoes and experimenting with more fun cocktails.

As mentioned above, I've done a lot of cooking this Autumn, I just never got around to recording/sharing most of it. I've been experimenting with apples (always) and I have been working on my soup skills (also, always). My favorite meal of the season was the French Onion Soup that I made with the Aus Jus from some braised Short ribs. I also made orange bitters which I did record, so stay tuned for more on that soon!

All in all, it was a lovely year in the kitchen. Did I get everything done that I wanted to? Absolutely not. I always have so many plans and then they inevitably get away from me. There is only so much time to play around in the kitchen (unfortunately!) As we head into the new year, I am contemplating kitchen witch goals for 2023. It is time to make more Eastern White Pine Vodka and Fire Cider, for sure - we ran out of both last weekend. I really want to make it back to the Cape to pick both Rosa Rugosa hips and Beach Plums so that I can finally find out what the differences between them both really are. I'd also like to make jelly with all of the spring flowers - last year I missed lilac, so that is high on my list for next year. Additionally, after a very poor gardening year (we were in a stage 4 drought), I'm more hopeful about my goals of expanding my tea garden in the year ahead.

[calmdownandcook]

Calm Down and Cook a Fruit Tart

My Mother had a fruit tart. It wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t something that was brought out only for special occasions (but you could fancy it up if you wanted). It was more like a sunday-dinner-at-home dessert. It was adaptable and adjustable depending on the season. This thin layer of cheesecake embellished with seasonal fruit was effortless to make. A 9-inch tart pan is almost the only piece of equipment you need and a solid purchase to keep in your cabinet. Keep in mind, I have never been shy about not wanting to make a pie crust, it’s not that I can’t, it’s that I don’t want to, so a pre-bought pie crust makes this even easier. You can piece together the store bought kind if not big enough.

Sunday Dinner Fruit Tart

1 pie crust for a 9-inch tart pan (about 3/4 of a standard pie crust)

12 ounces cream cheese at room temperature 

1/2 cup sour cream at room temperature

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 tbsp cornstarch

2 eggs at room temperature.

Any flavoring for the cheesecake layer (see suggestions)

3-4 cups of fruit for topping

4 ounces of Apple Jelly or Raspberry jam plus 4 tablespoons of water for glaze (optional)

Preheat your oven to 375. Give your tart pan a light coating of non-stick cooking spray. Press the pie crust into your tart pan. Try not to stretch the pie dough and just gently ease it into place. Trim the crust so it comes neatly up to the edges of the pan.

First, we’re going to blind-bake the crust. Cut a square of parchment paper or aluminum foil 2 inches wider than the tart pan and place it on top of your raw crust. (If you use parchment paper, it can help to crinkle it up into a tight ball and then open it up again. This will help it fit better into the pan.) Gently pour pie weights, dried beans, or uncooked rice on top of the parchment paper or foil to fill the pan. This will hold down the crust and prevent the dough from puffing up during baking. I like to use dried beans, they are cheap, easy to pour, and spill less than rice. The beans can be used an infinite number of times. Bake the pie crust, with the weights for 12 minutes, remove from oven, then lift out the parchment or foil along with the weights. Put the crust back in the oven for another 5 minutes. This whole process will give the crust a jump on the baking and keep the cheesecake layer from giving it the dreaded soggy bottom. It’s a good technique for most pies and tarts.

Turn your oven down to 350. Combine the sugar, cornstarch, eggs, sour cream, and cheesecake flavoring you have chosen, in a bowl. Mix on low speed with a hand mixer or stand mixer until smooth. This can also be done in a traditional blender or an immersion blender. The cornstarch is the thing you want to be sure is completely smooth and incorporated. Cut the cream cheese into small chunks and add to your mixture. Continue to mix on low speed, it is mixed when you see no chunks of cream cheese left. Let the mixture sit for 5 minutes to give the large bubbles a chance to disperse. Put your tart pan on a cookie sheet and pour the mixture into the crust. It will be very full. The cookie sheet will help you when you are moving from the counter to the oven and is nice in case there is any sloshing around. Bake for 40 minutes and let cool completely. The tart will puff up but don’t panic, it will sink back down as it cools.

Now you are ready to decorate. Cover the top with whatever fruit is in season or is calling out your name. I always try to include kiwi because it is what my Mother did and it makes my eye tell my brain that it tastes like home. Also, the green is pretty. Slice the fruit so it will lay flat on your tart. You can brush the top of the cheesecake layer with a little jam (any kind) to act as a “glue” for your fruit.

Once your tart is decorated with fruit, you can decide if you want to embellish it or not. The fruit is beautiful on its own but maybe a little naked. I like to dress it up a little with a glaze. Warm a little apple jelly with 2 tablespoons of water until it is runny. Stir together until combined and gently brush it on with a pastry brush. For some reason, apple jelly has become impossible to find. I have resorted to seedless raspberry preserves. It gives everything a pinkish glow and may not be appropriate all the time (like with oranges or pineapple). I like to warm about 4 ounces of the Jam with 2 tablespoons of water. Stir together. Then you are ready to gently brush it on top of your fruit. 

Flavoring suggestions for the cheesecake layer, combine them if the mood strikes you

1 tablespoon Vanilla

1 teaspoon of Almond extract

1 teaspoon of maple extract

1 teaspoon of coconut extract

1 tablespoon Lemon Zest

1 tablespoon Orange Zest

1 tablespoon Lime Zest

1 teaspoon of cinnamon

½ teaspoon of ground cardamom

2 tablespoons of bourbon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

Substitute white sugar for brown sugar for a caramel note.

What are you in the mood for? Mix and Match 

Fruit ideas for the top of your tart

Berries are the easiest and very attractive if you mix them up. Strawberries can be sliced for more efficient coverage

Bananas are an option but be prepared to serve the tart right away, they will start to brown. A dollop of whipped cream goes nicely with this.

Apples and Pears work but you will want to sautee them first. They can be too firm if completely raw. (see recipe below)

Chunks of fresh pineapple are very tropical. If you can’t use fresh and are going to use canned, make sure they are packed in juice and blot them dry. Decorate with toasted coconut if you are feeling “extra”.

Sliced Figs are the gold standard, according to my husband, and are the goal of any fruit tart

Orange sections are sunny but take the time to pick off the pith (the white stringing stuff) or make your life easy and use canned Mandarin sections. Again, be sure to blot them dry

Perfectly ripe peach wedges. (Peaches combine great with blackberries.)

Kiwi. Peeled and sliced thinly. 

Apricots (but really, who can find fresh apricots?)

Tart that tart up (get it?). Take your shiny glazed fruit and go a step further by giving it a light sprinkling of nuts. Any kind will do but sliced almonds or chopped macadamias work well. In the mood for a bit of chocolate? Sprinkle the top of the tart with some chocolate shavings. Buy a plain chocolate candy bar and run a vegetable peeler along the skinny side. Adorable little chocolate curls will appear.

Sauteed Apples or Pears

4 cups apples – about 4 apples

1 lemon

2 tablespoons butter

½ cup of white sugar or ¼ cup white sugar, ¼ cup brown sugar

Peel, core, and slice apples (pears) as if getting ready for a pie. Place apples (pears) in a bowl and squeeze the juice of the lemon on top and toss until you believe the lemon has evenly coated them. This will keep them from going brown.

Over medium heat, melt the butter in a large skillet and toss in the sugar. Stir for about a minute until the sugar is starting to melt.  Add apples or pears and stir almost constantly for 8-10 minutes. The apple or pears will have started to soften. Let cool completely before arranging on top of the tart. (These are also delicious with pork chops or vanilla ice cream. Versatile!)

[the-boyo1]

BoYo Best Seller product: Chocolate Creamy Peanut Butter

BoYo Creamy Peanut Butter has become a staple in households worldwide and its popularity can be attributed to a number of factors. One of the main reasons for its wide appeal is the unique texture it offers. 

Unlike smooth peanut butter, which is creamy and uniform in texture, creamy peanut butter contains small pieces of roasted peanuts that provide a delightful crunch with every bite. 

This added texture not only enhances the eating experience but also creates a more satisfying feeling in the mouth, which can leave individuals feeling fuller for longer. Another reason for the popularity of crunchy peanut butter is its versatility in the kitchen. It can be used in a variety of recipes, from sandwiches and cookies to sauces and dressings. 

Its nutty flavor and creamy texture make it an ideal ingredient for baked goods, and it can add depth and complexity to savory dishes like stir-fries and others. Additionally, it can be a great addition to smoothies and shakes, giving them an extra boost of protein and flavor.

The Nutritional Benefits of BoYo Natural Creamy Peanut Butter

Natural Creamy Peanut Butter is also a healthy option for those looking for a nutritious snack. It is a great source of protein, healthy fats, and fiber, making it a filling and satisfying snack that can help curb hunger cravings. Furthermore, peanut butter is rich in essential vitamins and minerals such as vitamin E, magnesium, and potassium, which can promote heart health and boost the immune system. 

Lastly, the popularity of creamy peanut butter can be attributed to its convenience. It is readily available in most grocery stores and can be stored for long periods of time without refrigeration. It can be a great on-the-go snack and is often used as a quick and easy protein source for athletes and fitness enthusiasts.

How to Adapt BoYo Creamy Peanut Butter into Your Diet

Ideas for Breakfast

- For a filling breakfast, spread BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter on whole-grain bread and top it with sliced fruit.

- Add it to your yogurt or porridge for extra creaminess and protein.

- Add it to the batter for pancakes or waffles for a tasty variation.

Snack Ideas

- Make a traditional PB&J sandwich with your favorite jam and BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter.

BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter, oats, honey, and dark chocolate chips may all be combined to make delectable energy balls.

- For a tasty and wholesome snack, dunk apple slices or celery sticks in BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter.

Dessert Ideas

- BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter, cream cheese, and powdered sugar may be combined to make a delectable peanut butter pie.

- For a delicious dessert treat, drizzle BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter over vanilla ice cream.

- Use BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter to make a decadent brownie with a peanut butter and chocolate swirl.

Frequently Asked Questions

1] Does BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter contain any gluten?

No, BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter is gluten-free, making it ideal for those who have celiac disease or gluten sensitivity.

2] Can someone with a peanut allergy eat BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter?

No, BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter and other products containing peanuts should not be consumed by anyone with a peanut allergy to prevent adverse reactions.

3] How ought BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter to be kept?

BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter should preferably be stored in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Refrigeration can assist maintain the food's texture and freshness even when it is not required.

4] Does BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter include additional sugar?

No added sweeteners are used in BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter, ensuring a pure and nutritious product.

Conclusion

BoYo Peanut Butter delivers an exceptional fusion of flavor and wellness advantages. For fans of peanut butter, it stands out as a tasty and healthy option thanks to its high quality and nutritional profile. BoYo Crunchy Peanut Butter is a must-have pantry staple because to its abundance in protein and healthy fats as well as its adaptability in a wide range of culinary applications. So, savor the delicious flavor and enjoy the many health advantages it adds to your diet.

[cricketnationrise]

Jack, May 5, 2015, the Haus kitchen (yay for another giveaway!)

here you go babe! 💜

_X_ _X_ _X_

Haus Kitchen, May 5, 2015

There’s something about watching Bittle dance through the kitchen, flitting from countertop to fridge to stove to cupboard to oven that Jack finds hard to describe, even to himself.

Shitty calls it magic; Ransom and Holster don’t care as long as they get pie.

But Lardo had once compared Bittle’s baking to Jack’s hockey. 

Those words had echoed around and around his head for days, bringing a smile to his lips every time he remembered them. Jack may not get Bittle (or most people) a lot of the time, but the comparison had unlocked something in his brain – allowed him to connect with his speedy teammate better than before.

So Jack stopped complaining about baked goods everywhere. Switched to chirps about lacking protein. Savored the small taste of home every time Bittle used real maple syrup in a dessert. Listened intently when Bittle when on a rant about jam or cooling times or the torrid history of a family recipe.

And then the oven started to misbehave. Betsy. An old oven in an even older Haus, worked harder than it had ever been before with Bittle’s enthusiasm and “procrasti-baking.” Dex had fixed it three times that Jack knew about – and probably another five that he didn’t. But even Dex’s knack for repair couldn’t hold back the inevitable and the oven had stopped working for good. 

Bittle had been…off since then. Sleeping later than normal, muttering darkly about no-bake cheesecake, grimly going on long evening runs in a desperate attempt to avoid studying for his finals now that his favorite method was denied him. He didn’t think Bittle had played a Beyoncé song once since Betsy had died.

Jack couldn’t stand it anymore. Bittle’s routines had somehow been incorporated into his own, and the change was throwing his own habits off. It just wasn’t the same studying without the smell of cinnamon and apples in the air. (And since when was that smell a comfort and not a distraction?)

Last week while Bittle was at class Jack floated the idea, sighing in relief when Ransom’s data had backed him up. After a clandestine trip this morning while the rest of the team took turns distracting Bittle, Jack is pacing the kitchen anxiously while Dex hooks up the new oven.

Dex finishes right as Chowder texts that they are two blocks away. Thank god. There’s just enough time to get everyone into the kitchen, with drinks and baking ingredients and Jack's camera, ready to celebrate Bittle’s birthday in style.

The door opens and Bittle’s already talking before he even gets to the kitchen.

“K, y'all. The whole team’s here and I haven’t baked anything. It’s a surprise party. I get it.”

Bittle comes into the room, frowning slightly at the manic grins on the team’s faces.

“Aren’t y'all gonna yell surprise?” Jack just feels himself grinning even more at Bittle’s confusion. He raises his camera – any second now he’ll notice the shiny chrome elephant in the room.

Jack watches Bittle freeze, and starts taking picture after picture – almost enough to make a flipbook – of eyes going wide, one hand covering his mouth open wide in delighted shock, the other curling around a trim waist protectively.

“I can’t believe y'all— How’d y'all— when did y'all— what y'all do with—” Jack can barely hear Bittle through the team’s cheers, and the clicking of his camera. But he stops taking photos at the first hint of tears, already moving closer in concern.

Bittle’s outright sobbing now, but he’s smiling too, and Jack feels himself sag in relief at the sight.

“I need to bake something right now!” he cries.

“Stop crying first,” Jack chirps. Bittle snorts wetly, then—

Jack has to brace himself because he suddenly has an armful of thrilled, yet snotty, baker. 

Eventually, Bittle will stop crying long enough to christen his new oven. He’ll peel apples to the tune of songs that Jack doesn’t know, knead dough while swinging his hips to the beat. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and maple will fill the air in the spaces between Bittle’s chatter and the music of the kegster will fade almost to nothing.

And Jack will be there.

_X_ _X_ _X_

Enjoyed this? Want your own? See this post for details 💜

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[hanna-kin]

Swedish facts - food edition

Now food is more individual than the school system and Sweden has ended up incorporating food from many countries and made it into it's own versions. Obviously it's also going to vary between families. It's all over the place really.

Just like this post will be.

Breakfast

🍝 Typical breakfast foods are:

Any type of cereal with milk or yoghurt or sour milk.

Open faced sandwich - crisp bread, toast, limpa (special type of bread loaf) are common aswell as polarbröd (just Google it)

- we often put cheese, ham, turkey, egg, cucumber etc on them. Its not fancy. Maybe nutella or jam/marmelade too.

But since avocados are trendy we obviously also eat avocado toast. (Not Simon though)

Porridge (oatmeal if you will)

Smoothies

Sometimes we'll have boiled eggs with or without caviar (Kalles kaviar. Not Russian caviar)

It's not traditional to eat English breakfast like bacon and baked beans neither is american pancakes but we do like to treat ourselves to these kinds of breakfasts sometimes.

Lunch

🍝Obviously you can eat almost anything for lunch. Especially if you eat at a restaurant. You can usually pick any cuisine you fancy or just a sallad. Sallads are common.

If we talk food that's served at schools it also varies but common dishes are:

Spaghetti Bolognese

Pasta and meatballs

Potatoes and meatballs with sauce and Lingonberries

Fish fingers or the good cripsy fish bits that are much nicer.

Pytt i panna (again google it)

Korvstroganoff with rice (google it)

Chicken tikka masala

Potatisbullar (kindof like hashbrowns)

Dinner

🍝 dinner is going to be just as diverse as lunch. Each family have their own traditions but you eat alot of the same things as for lunch.

Pasta is a staple but of course swedified (Italians step away)

Lot's of creamy pastas with real cream.

Stews are a big thing. Served with rice or potatoes or pasta.

Bearnaise sauce is like the swedes favourite sauce for the weekend and I don't know why.

Steak and chips or wedged potatoes is a pretty common thing to serve on a friday night.

During summer we often barbecue

Swedish "specialties"

🍝 now the word specialities should be taken lightly since many of them are not our own food. We've just claimed them.

Kebab pizza

Swedish tacos

Kebab in any form

Pizza (but not like in italy the diagracious kind)

Pancakes (thin version)

Plättar (tiny pancakes unless you live in the north because then plättar is pancakes)

Ugnspannkaka (pancake that you bake in the oven on a baking tray)

Waffles (again not like the Belgian ones)

Gravad lax (rimmed? Salmon)

Herring in many forms

Meat balls (like at IKEA)

Toast skagen (shrimp toast)

Tunnbrödrulle (underrated af flat bread usually filled with shrimp and sallad)

Varma mackor (does that count?)

Wallenbergare

Biff Rydberg

Palt

Kroppkaka

SEMLOR -HOW COULD I FORGET????

Swedish fika

This one is important so hold your horses.

Sweden is filled with cafes that serves coffee and tea and other beverages but most importantly pastries and baked goods.

Cinnamon buns

Princesstårta(princess cake which is basically vicoria sponge with raspberry jam, whipped cream custard and covered with marsipan)

Jordgubbstårta (strawberry cake with victoria sponge, strawberries, custard and whipped cream)

Danish pastries

Småkakor (different kinds of biscuits)

Sockerkaka (sponge cake)

Kladdkaka (mudd cake)

Muffins

Pie (apple, blueberry etc)

Again the list is endless

🍝 We fika alot. Both at work where we take a coffee break and eat something. Maybe a fruit or a late breakfast sandwich or something from the list above.

🍝 We also meet friends overa fika or take a fika break during a day out shopping.

🍝 We also fika at home and invite people over for just a fika. Many people bake their own things for that.

Snacks

🍝 I think the most famous snack is lösgodis (pick and mix candy)

We also have better chocolate than the US and UK and probably better than most european countries (I said what i said)

Othervise we eat the standard chrisps, cheese doodles etc.

Salty licorice is pretty typical but alot of swedes hate it (myself included)

Traditional holiday foods

We eat very similar things for our holidays since that's what we had available back in the days.

Here are a few things we eat

Salmon

Herring

Ham

Janssons frestelse

Eggs

Ribs

Meatballs

Sausage

🍝I could talk about this forever because there's so much to say but I'm going to stop now

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ruggie, Jade: Eyes on the Prize

Thank god J word’s Groovy cameo is barely recognizable as J word 😌 I’m safe from pulling~

Imagine this...

“More juice, Ruggie-san?”

“Mmmphgh!”

With his mouth crammed full of donut holes--chocolate, glazed, powdered, jam, cream, and sprinkles--the birthday boy enthusiastically nodded. He tilted an empty glass toward his waiter and watched as it slowly filled with liquid sunset. It was a tasty concoction of Jade’s own creation: fruit punch, OJ, and lemonade.

Acidic, yet sweet.

Ruggie knocked his head back, gobbling up the final remains of his donuts (well, at least in this batch). He followed by chugging his entire drink, then gesturing for more.

Jade chuckled as he obliged. “Such a healthy and voracious appetite. A hyena after my own heart.”

“It’s not every day that I get to feast like a king. Gotta take advantage of the situation while you can!” Ruggie grinned impishly. “... Just like I’m sure you’re taking advantage of this situation right now, Jade-kun.”

“Fufu. I’m afraid that I do not understand what you mean. This is my way of pampering you on your special day. Please think nothing of it. There is no monetary payment required for my services.”

“Quit pullin’ my tail. If my language is money, then yours is intell--and I betcha you got plenty of it during the interview.”

“I am deeply humbled to have learned more about your humble origins.” Jade smiled, expertly smoothing over the accusation. Like a parent lightly scolding a child, he took the conversation by the hand and gently redirected it.

“It makes your achievements at NRC all the more impressive. Between your classes, Magift Club, your many odd jobs, and working under Leona-san... It seems as though you always have your hands full, and your eyes poised to the golden glint of the future.

“I find your choice sibling and in dorm to be particularly interesting. They are related to money earned and money saved, respectively.” The eel’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Quite shrewd... and not unlike Azul.

“Even the matter of finding loopholes in the interview questions to exploit is very Octavinelle of you. A shame that you did not select our dorm. You would have fit fight in, and we would have happily welcomed you in turn.”

“Thinkin’ outside the box is a necessary life skill. It’s not much of a choice I have if I wanna survive to tomorrow--so you can save your crocodile tears. Maybe someone else’ll buy’m off you. I heard tears of a mermaid sell for a ton. Nishishishishi!”

“It appears that the future is often on your mind, even at your tender age.”

“Uh, I dunno how to break it to you, but we’re the same age. And besides, the future has to be on my mind,” Ruggie clenched a fist, holding it to his heart, “because you never know when tomorrow might not come.

“The future’s littered with prizes... and I’ve gotta stick around long enough to collect them. That means planning and saving, bartering and stealing, doing whatever I gotta do to make it there.”

“I commend you for your grand ambitions. No matter what you do, you do so with gusto--no matter how menial the task, fufufu.” Jade cocked his head to one side. “I suspect that you shall receive your Gift of Good Fortune no differently.”

“Oh, you mean the pie?” Ruggie frowned, his ears flattening. “Man, I’m all for a good laugh, but I wish we didn’t have to waste perfectly good food like that...”

“Do not think of it as a waste. Think of it as an... investment. Yes, an investment in your future happiness.”

“Alright, but can you at least toss it into my mouth? I’ll do my best to catch it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you would enjoy that.”

“... Why not?”

The atmosphere around Jade shifted as he silently picked up a paper plate piled with whipped cream. It was as though a glass apple had been easily crushed, the stray shards dispersing, slicing through the air, and lodging themselves in Ruggie’s skin. Jade’s calm smile chilled the birthday boy to the bone.

“Errrr... Jade-kun? Buddy? What’s with that look?”

“Do not concern yourself with such a trivial matter,” Jade insisted.

The eel brought his hand back—the movement so fast that it cut the air, releasing a high-pitched hiss from the gash. His arm wound up, and the space around him rippled in response. A whirring sound drummed up as the pie spun and spun.

“I’ve been practicing just for this occasion. I hope that my performance will be satisfactory.”

He’s enjoy this a little TOO much!!

Ruggie paled. “H-Hold on a sec...! Aren’t you putting a little too much power into that throw?!”

“Not to worry. I will do my utmost to ensure that this hurts as little as possible.”

“Like hell you are! You’re totally gonna knock me off my feet!”

“It is an investment in your happiness, so I cannot afford to hold back,” Jade reminded him. The glint of mischief in his mismatched eyes was palatable. “After all, I only desire the best for my precious peers.”

“If I end up in the infirmary after this, you’re footin’ the bill for the best medical care for your precious peer.”

“What an avid imagination you have. Surely one hit from a pie will not be enough to incapacitate such a hardy hyena.” Jade grinned, displaying his dangerously jagged teeth. “Then... I wish you the happiest of birthdays, Ruggie-san.”

He tensed, bracing for impact.

S P L A T!!

Ruggie was promptly sent flying to the ground, landing squarely on his bum. Upon contact, dull pain shot through his body, chattering through his bones and his muscles.

Whipped cream painted his fancy suit and jacket, got in his hair and clung to his skin. Sweetness, combined with the hot savanna, left him sticky and smelling like something saccharine.

Yet he still managed to howl, to laugh.

To enjoy himself

“Nishishishi, you got me good, Jade-kun~”

[wankusbonkus-gt]

Look Before You Drink

Summary: ‘Fate and Graves arrive home with sacks full of stolen black market tech and two mysterious potion vials. They really should know better than to drink them.’

Content: Shrinking, Comedy, Fluff, Farting, Burping

A/N: This is a commission for Symbiotez18. This is my first time writing for the LoL fandom and for these characters, so if I get any characterisation or world building wrong, that is why. I won’t be posting for this fandom unless I get another commission for it, as I’m not interested in it personally. (link to AO3 version)

~

‘What did I tell you, Graves!’ Fate exclaims, waltzing into their ramshackle apartment. Temporary ramshackle apartment, because after this stunt, they may have enough to get a better place. ‘What did I tell you!’ He’s practically bouncing as he unloads his heavy, tech-filled sack onto the table. It wobbles on weak legs for a moment, then settles.

Graves just grumbles behind him, nursing his shoulder. He’d been shot by one of the guards on their way out, while attempting to pull Fate out of the way. Fate eyes the injury as it bleeds sluggishly, like a jam doughnut being squeezed of its insides. It’s … not concerning, but he still feels the need to fuss.

Graves goes to sit down at their small, rickety table while Fate rifles through the medicine cabinet under their sink. He plucks out a health potion and gives it to his partner, who downs it quickly, chatting all the while.

‘I mean, I know the tech lab was heavily guarded and you almost lost an arm, but what did I tell you! I told you we’d be good at this, just like old times.’

Graves observes him with dark eyes. ‘Not exactly like old times,’ the man muses, lips tilting up. Fate gives into temptation, leans down and kisses him. He doesn’t surface for a few good minutes.

‘No, I suppose not,’ he admits when they part. Graves yawns around a fist. ‘Do you want to go to bed, old man?’ Not waiting for an answer, he pulls Graves up and moves them towards the bed on the other side of the small room. The whole place is small, and plain, and overall rather unappealing. It’s an offence to his good taste. He just thanks every god there is that there’s a separate room for the bath and toilet.

He strips them quickly, both to their underwear, before finding two small potion vials in one of Graves’ pant pockets. ‘What’s this?’ Fate asks, looking them over. One’s red and the other’s green, shining and shimmering within their glass containers. There’s no labelling.

‘I swiped them before we left,’ Graves says. ‘Thought if they could go without their fancy tech, they could go without their fancy potions too.’  

‘What do they do?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You’re not sure? And you want us to drink them?’

Graves just shrugs, his shoulder muscles shifting attractively. If Fate weren’t dead on his feet from a day of thieving, he’d be all over that.

Graves takes the red one from him and uncorks it. Sighing defeatedly, Fate does the same to the green. It releases a poof of sparkly, sweet-smelling air. He figures there are worse mysterious potions to ingest. And why would they keep harmful potions so out in the open? It’s going to be fine.

‘Well, it doesn’t taste like poison,’ he says after swallowing it down. It actually tastes kind of like apple pie, like something you might expect from someone with a normal childhood.

Graves yawns again, and Fate does as well. Maybe they’re sleeping potions? Shrugging, they both climb under the covers, fitting themselves against the other. Fate’s head on Graves’ shoulder, his leg over the man’s hip, and an arm settled over his chest. He’d be more embarrassed about his clinginess if he didn’t know how much Graves enjoys it.

‘Night,’ his partner sighs into his hair. But before Fare can respond, his mind is fading to black.

~

Fate wakes up feeling disoriented. Must’ve been that potion … he sits up groggily and takes in his surroundings.

He blinks. Closes his eyes. Opens them again.

Everything is massive. His small two-room apartment looks fucking massive now, more like a three-storey mansion than a hovel. He’s still reeling from the sudden shift in perspective when he hears a loud snore from his right.

Graves!

He turns to find his partner a giant, large, hulking body splayed out over the bed, which is more like a landing pad at this size. Fate doesn’t allow himself to freak out, instead standing up on his pillow and making the trek over to the sleeping man. If he can wake Graves up, maybe they can figure out a way to reverse this fucking thing.

The journey is relatively easy. No more difficult than running through Bilgewater with a group of hired mercenaries hunting you down. Tripping over massive wrinkles in the bedsheets is probably his biggest obstacle. Well, that is, until he has to climb up Graves’ body to reach him.

He wanders over to his large hand and steps onto his palm, which is almost like a verge tall step, then walks along his muscled, hairy arms up to his shoulders. Thankfully, the man sleeps shirtless, so he doesn’t have to negotiate his way through a nightshirt. He climbs up Graves' beard, using the hair as leverage to pull himself up.

He catches a whiff of the man’s morning breath as he stops in front of the half-opened mouth.

‘Graves!’ He yells, but the man doesn’t react. He goes to yell again, but the large mouth widens like the entrance to a cave and a loud, pungent burp sends Fate into the air. He’s sent over the man’s body, right down between his large thighs. He lays there for a moment, on top of the covers, surrounded by skin. The memory of being flung into the air because Graves passed gas will haunt him forever.

Sitting up, Fate resolves to try again, but is suddenly assaulted by another wave of gas, this time originating from Graves’ ass. The loud, smelly air sends him flying again, right down the end of the bed. He manages to grab onto the duvet before he plummets off the side and turns into roadkill.

‘GRAVES!’ he screams, his lungs working overtime. ‘WAKE UP, YOU FUCKING OVERSIZED GAS CHAMBER!’

There’s movement on the bed, and then his partner sits up. Fate sees his sleepy, confused eyes scan the room.

‘DOWN HERE, ASSHOLE!’ Graves catches sight of him.

‘Fate? What the fucking are you doing so small?’

He’s picked up by the man’s hand, before being dropped onto a palm.

‘It was the stupid potion you gave me! It must’ve turned me small.’

‘Oh, you mean this?’ Graves waggles the nearly empty vial in front of him teasingly. There’s still a few glowing, green drops of the stuff left. ‘Should I try it too? Looks kind of fun.’

‘No, you idiot! Just–FIX THIS!’

Graves smirks down at him. The fuckhead still looks devastatingly attractive. Maybe even more so now, since the man’s height makes him all Fate can see. ‘Hmm … I don’t know, Fate. What if I just …’

He dangles the vial over his mouth, letting the sliver of potion left inside hang on the rim. He waggles the glass. Before Fate can shout, it drips into Graves' open mouth.

Immediately, Graves begins to shrink. The palm Fate is standing in grows smaller and smaller until he falls back onto the bedding. When he sits up again, Graves is the same size as him, not counting their pre-existing height difference.

Fate glares at Graves hard enough that he could probably make a hole right through the man’s head. Not as if there’d be anything inside to hinder him.

‘What the fuck did you do?!’ He screams.

‘I don’t know!’ Graves screams back.

They spend the rest of the morning like that, shrunken and screaming at one another in angry confusion. How they get big again, well, that’s another story.

[jincherie]

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so��.. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.  

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare. 

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword. 

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life. 

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.    

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching. 

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from. 

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse. 

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now. 

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably. 

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it. 

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment. 

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting. 

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.  

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely. 

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising.  “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way. 

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip.  The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him. 

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does. 

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not. 

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can. 

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features. 

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events. 

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls. 

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel. 

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane. 

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here. 

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics. 

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts. 

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing. 

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes. 

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does. 

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour. 

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there. 

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier. 

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death. 

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this. 

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

 …You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride.  “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch. 

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know. 

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself. 

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone. 

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing. 

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly. 

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten. 

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches  and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics. 

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations. 

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think. 

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped. 

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

[diavolosthots]

My family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve... So here are random headcanons no one asked for because I'm now officially in the christmas mood

THE BROTHERS celebrating Christmas with MC

Lucifer:

Truthfully, he finds something calming about Christmas. Not because of the holiday itself, or the songs being sung, but because everyone is occupied with something and for once, no one gets onto him for sitting in front of a fireplace, soft instrumental music playing, with a glass of rich wine, and this year, you in his lap. No talking. No fighting. No “Lucifer!”. Just silence. Peace. Your heartbeat against his. It’s the most relaxing day of the year, no matter how stressful the months, days, moments leading up to it were; right now, it’s just your hand in his, and soft caresses that remind him: there truly is peace on earth (or hell).

Mammon:

He likes Christmas because of the presents, of course. He loved getting spoiled. He loves money, and expensive things, and things that shine and are of value. But this year, at least to him, you are the most valuable thing. Your hand in his, singing dorky Christmas songs he barely remembers the lyrics to -unless it’s jingle bell rock because then he’s jamming out-. Laughter fills his ears, and for once, he feels truly at home, with you by his side. 

Leviathan:

It’s no secret that he really doesn’t like the holiday; the happy couples, the mistletoe kisses, and the love that seems to surround everyone but him. Really, he would prefer to stick it out in his room and wait until New Years so he can make resolutions that he won’t stick to, anyway. Yet, here you are, dragging him out of his safe space and into the crowd, making him socialize and eat food that he’s never heard of. What do you mean WARM apple pie? Apple pie is always warm? Doesn’t it need to be baked? He’s been so excluded from the holiday, even after celebrating for centuries, that he might learn something new today. 

Satan:

Ah yes, Christmas. The one time of year where everyone magically gets along for 24 hours and has a good time. No picking on Lucifer, no useless fights with Mammon; today, he can just be. Of course, every year he pulls out “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens; this year, he has you sitting in his lap, in front of the big, bright tree, as he reads it to you, finding his tongue seemingly glide over the words, although he’s more than nervous holding you this close. Still, Lucifer was right; there’s a strange sense of peace to it, and with another deep breath, he finds himself at ease. 

Asmodeus:

Oh Christmas! He loves it so much. The bright colors, the many faces filled with cheer, the outfits! Really, he loves all holidays where he can celebrate, but Christmas just holds a special place in his heart. Of course, he’s sure to make you and him the brightest stars of the evening and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t dance with you by the tree, where a mistletoe is conveniently placed. Go on, lean in a little, love. He’s been waiting all year for a kiss like this. 

Beelzebub:

You guessed it; he looks forward to the food every year. He loves the ham, the mashed potatoes, and everything else humans might have come up with. Nothing better than hot chocolate with whipped cream, cinnamon, and a candy cane, either! This year, however, happiness is brought to him tenfold, because he has someone to share all this with. No, not just Belphie, but you, too! He’ll laugh with you as a whipped cream mustache makes its way onto your face, gently licking it off your lips.

Belphegor:

Truthfully, Christmas is the one time a year where he feels closest to his family. Everyone gathers, everyone is happy, everyone contributes, but most importantly, everyone loves each other. It’s stress-free, just how he likes it, and no one gets onto him for wrapping up in a mountain of blankets right before they open presents. Of course, you’re right there too, as part of his family this year. His blanket will cover both of you as he leans his head on your shoulder, staring at everyone’s happy faces, and kissing your cheek in hopes of the same reaction from you.  

[isfjmel-phleg]

Leaves, apple, pie, and I'll ask abot Tea for Edmara (because it is a good fit with the short story and because she needs a chance to relax)

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

I edit a lot as I go, which makes moving forward difficult. But assuming I'm editing a complete draft, it's probably already in a tolerable state. Rewording, omissions, fixing things, that sort of thing.

Scenes change sometimes while being written. New ideas come up in the process, conversations go where I don't expect--or more often, things stall and have to be stewed over forever before they can go anywhere. Otherwise, I don't really know how things change? They just do? An idea materializes by some miracle and things fall into place. If I'm lucky.

This sounds completely methodless and scattered, because it is. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. Whatever that may be, I don't recommend it. It's not working.

🍎 apple: let’s talk about friendship in your wip. do you have any favorite friend/platonic dynamics? any friendships gone sour?

Rietta and Rachel are such fun contrasts in their natures and their struggles with stability vs. adventure. They take to each other nearly from the beginning, but they have their share of challenges--Rachel's trust issues and Rietta's flightiness, the differences in views. Ultimately they're good for each other, though.

We haven't seen much of Amarantha and Madlen yet, but I'm looking forward to doing more with them. I like the idea of Amarantha, who prides herself on being insightful about people, being paired with someone who genuinely has this quality, without the judgmental angle Amarantha has.

Amarantha and Elystan develop a friendship that will have gone sour by Book 3 thanks to his regressing in character development. I do want them to resolve it though. They're another study in contrasts, but there are also parallels that link them together.

The saddest friendship gone sour is Antavia and Andras's. He dies before they can resolve it, and she feels guilty (not about her actions that led to the falling-out, but about hurting him). So her relationship with Andras's son has the potential to be interesting.

🥧 pie: let’s talk about food in your wip. are there any special recipes or traditional meals? do any of your OCs cook or bake?

I already answered the specific questions, so this will be more general. I love incorporating food descriptions into the stories, and food itself has a recurring significance. It's representative of connection and/or care.

Rietta and Rachel's clandestine meetings as they get to know each other better include picnics. When Amarantha's mother forgets to make her lunch, Amarantha sees this as not just an unfortunate accident but a sign that her mother doesn't care enough to look after her--and a friendship begins when Madlen shares her food. Amarantha will eventually return the gesture with Elystan. Entering the kitchen at Chandemothe and being served breakfast will be the first time Amarantha feels safe since boarding the train; she's being accepted and included by the staff. Josiah associates jam-filled biscuits with happier times with his whole family intact. When Bethira arrives to see to an off-the-rails Elystan, she pairs her attempts to show him affection with adamancy that he eat. Etc.

When Delclis has nothing but disdain for the delicious breakfast he shares with his mother, it's a sign that his attitude and his relationship with her are not what they should be. Same for Elystan's resistance toward Bethira's trying to get him to eat. He doesn't have the best relationship with food in general, and a lot of that's because of his health, but on another level it's symbolic of his unreceptiveness to affection and unwillingness to take care of himself. Josiah's got issues in this area too, for different reasons.

☕ coffee or tea: describe your OC’s favorite place to relax.

Edmara: If she's at Endean, the best place to get away from Elystan stress is outdoors. There might be a gazebo somewhere that she has slipped off to. At home, the Melbrays' back garden overlooks a river, and she finds it peaceful to sit and watch it whenever possible.