#not the baked apples you core and leave whole

[lyledebeast]

I have made baked apples, which is what happens when you make apple pie filling and then cook it outside of the pie. It is sublime!

[vaspider]

Spider!! Hola :)

So I know I came back way too early this time but with this whole situation we lost sight that 2 of the affected family members will be having their bdays.

So, if you don't feel comfortable with us asking so soon for a boost I do come asking for a fool proof apple pie recipe.

We're short on money so gifts are out of the question, but I could make them something tasty, and they have always wanted to try apple pie.

There are many recipes on the internet but I need one even I, who have never baked a pie, can bake.

Hope it's not a weird petition, I just remembered you have valuable experience in the recipes department.

Thanks for taking time to read our ask, please stay safe!

If you're looking for foolproof, I would actually skip over Apple pie as a starting point & I would instead go for an apple crisp.

A crisp is much easier to make - pastry can be really finicky if you aren't familiar with how to make it, whereas a crisp you just mix together all the good stuff that makes a tasty topping and you are good to go.

Easy Apple Crisp

Ingredients

1/2c butter, cold (do not take out to soften like you would for cookies)

6 apples (Granny Smith, Fuji, Pink Lady, or similar. NOT RED DELICIOUS.)

2T granulated sugar

2t pumpkin pie spice (or cinnamon, if that's what you've got, but I find that using pumpkin pie spice is just... better... if you can)

2t lemon juice

1c light brown sugar, lightly packed

1c old-fashioned rolled oats

1c all-purpose flour (if using gluten-free flour, that's fine - you don't need to add xanthan gum for this recipe)

1/2c chopped walnuts or pecans

1/2c craisins (technically optional, but don't skip)

Pinch kosher salt

Equipment

2 medium-sized mixing bowls

Sharp knife

Cutting board

2 large spoons for mixing

1 small bowl for butter

Method

Wash hands thoroughly before beginning. You should do this every time you cook or bake, but especially this time, bc we will be handling a lot of the ingredients directly.

Cut butter into small cubes. Put into small bowl and place back into refrigerator to keep cold until needed.

Preheat oven to 350°. Spray 8" baking dish with non-stick cooking spray or grease with butter. Set aside.

Core and chop apples into large bite-sized pieces, about as big across as a nickel. Some people peel the apples. I don't. I think that's a lot of extra work to eliminate a great source of fiber & flavor. Place apples in one of the mixing bowls. Add lemon juice, granulated sugar, 1t of the pumpkin pie spice. Stir until combined, then pour into prepared baking dish.

If you prefer smaller bits, lightly chop the craisins. I like them full-sized, personally.

Put the rest of the ingredients except the butter - craisins, chopped nuts, brown sugar, flour, oats, 1t pie spice, salt - into the 2nd bowl and stir to combine.

Get the butter out of the fridge. Work it into the dry ingredients with your fingers until you have pea-sized crumbs. You can also use a fork or two knives for this or a pastry blender if you're very posh, but I really prefer using my hands. It's easier, and you get better texture, IMO.

Spread evenly over apple mix. Even it out a bit with the back of one of your mixing spoons. Don't leave any big gaps, but also don't press down on the mix at all.

Bake for 40-50 minutes or until the topping is golden brown and the apple/sugar mix bubbles up at the corners of the dish.

Notes

This recipe is specifically written with round amounts to make it easy to size up or down! You can halve this or double it. Doubling it should make about enough to fill a 13 x 9 casserole dish.

Make sure to adjust your cooking time if you adjust the size!

If you have small oven-safe bowls or ramekins, you can divide this between those ramekins instead. If you do this, DON'T heap up the topping higher than the top of the dish. It gets very easy to spill.

Like technically you don't HAVE to use the nuts or craisins but ... why would you want to skip those? THE FLAVOR!!

If you really prefer raisins I guess you can use those. I hate raisins, and also craisins add a tart element which makes the dish really delightful and more complex IMO.

You can make a crisp like this with lots of different fruit! This recipe works pretty much exactly the same if you substitute in 4-5c of blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, or pears. You may want to fiddle with the amount of white sugar or the spices, but yeah. Once you know this recipe, it's a good basic dessert recipe that you can use for a lot of fruit!

If using berries, make sure to rinse them very well with cold water and inspect for any spots of mold. Supermarket berries get moldly REALLY fast. If possible, buy berries from chain supermarkets the day you're going to use them, and check berries in the store. Open the containers, don't be shy. Nothing sucks more than wasting money from your grocery budget and realizing when you get home that you bought moldy berries.

Enjoy!

[lovetheangelblog]

Do you know about the super seasonal fruit in the midst of a revival?

I start this article by telling you that I have done a bit of research and asked friends and colleagues for their experience to help me put together a bit of information below that I hope you will find enlightening.

Golden orbs? This unusual fruit has a long and rich history, stemming from Caucasus and the middle East, it is a member of the rose family and is never eaten raw. The soft and downy orbs of golden yellow hang enticingly amongst rich green leaves, have long brightened blustery autumn days and are currently enjoying a surge in popularity. They were once almost forgotten or perhaps replaced by the convenience and instant gratification of their cousin, the apple. 

I am talking about quince (Cydonia oblonga). Quince tastes like a combination of apple and pear but this wonderful flavour must be enticed from it’s tough, sour and grainy flesh through culinary skill. Indeed, in Turkey the phrase ‘ayvayi yemek’ or ‘eating the quince’ is slang for being up a creek without a paddle! The fruit was very popular in ancient Greece and Rome, serving as a symbol of love and fertility, it is highly likely that the apple spoken about in the biblical story of Adam and Eve was not an apple, but infact a quince. Greeks would eat the fruit hollowed out, filled with honey and cooked encased in pastry. Romans extracted an essential oil from this highly aromatic fruit to use in perfumery (there is nothing like the sweet, citrus smell that comes from a box full of ripe, fresh quinces. I will admit to sticking my whole head inside boxes collected from friends gardens to inhale the glorious scent that fills the space) For centuries, in France and Spain quinces have been cultivated and harvested in autumn to make ‘cotignac’ in France or ‘dulce de membrillo’ in Spain, a traditional sweet paste enjoyed with cheese.

What we do with them… At the Angel Bakery, boxes of local quinces are swapped for bags of bread in autumn (they are lucky enough to have friends with mature quince trees in their gardens) and transformed into jars of quince jam and quince jelly to be accompanied by Neal’s Yard cheeses and oatmeal biscuits and given as gifts in Christmas hampers. 

A recipe for you Friend of the Angel and wonderful freelance chef, menu consultant and food writer Rosie Sykes has sent us this recipe to share with you;

Quince, Ginger and Hazelnut Cake  "This is a wonderful autumnal cake. Quinces are quite hard so make sure you have a sharp knife. If you have a food processor peel and core the quince and whizz it with the stem ginger…" Rosie Sykes

For the cake:  100g finely grated stem ginger, plus extra for decoration  200g flour 150g soft light brown sugar 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda  Pinch salt  Approx. 500g quince, peeled and coarsely grated, you need 300g of grated flesh  Finely grated zest of a lemon  75g toasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped plus a few extra for decoration  2 large eggs 60g sour cream 125ml sunflower oil

For the icing: 1 tbsp lemon juice 2 tsp syrup from the stem ginger  200g Icing sugar  Preheat the oven to 170 fan or 180 regular.  Method:

Grease and line a 20cm round or square tin.  In a large bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, brown sugar and salt.  Toss through the quince, stem ginger and hazelnuts. Make a well in the centre.  In another bowl whisk together the eggs, lemon zest, sour cream or yoghurt and oil.  When well amalgamated pour into the dry ingredients and fold together thoroughly.  Once completely combined, scrape into the tin and bake until set - about 40 minutes. A good check is to see if a toothpick comes out clean. Leave to cool completely before icing. 

To make the icing whisk the icing sugar to remove any lumps, make a well in the centre and add lemon juice and ginger syrup - do it gradually as depending on the weather the icing sugar will take less or more liquid. You are looking for a thick pourable consistency. (The rest of the lemon juice ginger mixture would be excellent in a gin and tonic or just tonic).  Pour the icing over the cooled cake, it’s nice if it drips down the sides a bit. Decorate with chopped hazelnuts and small chunks of stem ginger. 

Rosie’s book ‘The Sunday Night Book: 52 Short Recipes to Make the Weekend Feel Longer’ is one that I go back to again and again for simple, comforting and delicious recipes. Not to mention, the cover designed by another friend of the hotel Alexis Snell (details below) is the most beautiful I have ever seen on a cook book, it sits facing forward on a shelf in my kitchen so everyone sees it when they come in – it is a piece of art!

More of Rosie’s recipes can be found here: https://www.theguardian.com/profile/rosie-sykes

Alexis Snell https://www.instagram.com/alexissnellprintmaker/

How to shake things up… If you are poaching quince for a recipe, the syrup you are left with can make a tasty addition to your cocktail cabinet. A quince gimlet contains 50ml of your favourite gin, 25ml freshly squeezed lime juice, and 25ml quince syrup instead of the traditional sugar syrup. Shake the ingredients up with ice in a Boston shaker (or a jam jar if you’re home bar doesn’t contain a Boston shaker!) and serve in a small wine glass with a twist of lime as a garnish. The quince enhances the flavour of the gin and gives this classic cocktail a deeper richness.

The Gimlet Bar, creators of cocktails, cordials and vinegars designed for deliciousness and fun produce a quince cordial and a quince vinegar. More cocktail recipes can be found on their website… gimlet-bar.com

Staying healthy… Not only is quince delicious, aromatic and the perfect companion to gin - it also boasts some super health benefits too… it has a very low calorific value and contains fibre, vitamin C, B1, B6, iron, potassium and magnesium. Quinces are rich in antioxidants which reduce metabolic stress, safeguard against chronic illness, lower inflammation and protect cells against damage from free radicals. Forget about boring old apples and pears, a quince a day could also, potentially keep the doctor away!

So, if you happen to have a quince tree in your garden (or are lucky enough to have a friend with one) I sincerely hope this guide will be helpful and inspire you to make the most out of these enchanting and superbly versatile fruits!

Thank you for reading

Emily Bannister Project Manager

[davesnow]

Salted caramel & apple pudding

Ingredients

1 tbsp butter, softened

3 large eggs, and 2 egg yolks

50g dark brown soft sugar

200ml whole milk

300ml double cream

375g can caramel, beaten until smooth

2 tsp vanilla extract

3 apples (we used Pink Lady)

ice cream, to serve (optional)

75g plain flour

>>>>>Get a FREE EBOOK Recipe with 400 pages<<<<<<

Method

●step 1 :Heat the oven to 180C/160C fan/gas 4. Butter a 30 x 20 x 4cm baking dish. Put the eggs, extra yolks, sugar, milk, cream, 200g of the caramel, the vanilla and a large pinch of sea salt in a large bowl, then whisk until combined. Stir in the flour until the batter is smooth.

● step 2 :Halve, core and cut the apples into 1cm slices – there’s no need to peel them. Arrange in the baking dish and pour over the batter. Bake for 30-35 mins until the batter is set in the centre, golden and slightly risen.

● step 3 :Drizzle over the remaining caramel, then sprinkle with a little extra sea salt. Leave to rest for 5-10 mins (it will deflate a little). Serve warm with vanilla or peanut butter ice cream, if you like.

.......................keep reading..................

[recipesfr]

Salted caramel & apple pudding

Ingredients:

1 tbsp butter, softened

3 large eggs, and 2 egg yolks

50g dark brown soft sugar

200ml whole milk

300ml double cream

375g can caramel, beaten until smooth

2 tsp vanilla extract

75g plain flour

3 apples (we used Pink Lady)

ice cream, to serve (optional)

>>>Get a FREE EBOOK with 1500 Calories Recipes Here<<<

Method

STEP 1 Heat the oven to 180C/160C fan/gas 4. Butter a 30 x 20 x 4cm baking dish. Put the eggs, extra yolks, sugar, milk, cream, 200g of the caramel, the vanilla and a large pinch of sea salt in a large bowl, then whisk until combined. Stir in the flour until the batter is smooth.

STEP 2 Halve, core and cut the apples into 1cm slices – there’s no need to peel them. Arrange in the baking dish and pour over the batter. Bake for 30-35 mins until the batter is set in the centre, golden and slightly risen.

STEP 3 Drizzle over the remaining caramel, then sprinkle with a little extra sea salt. Leave to rest for 5-10 mins (it will deflate a little). Serve warm with vanilla or peanut butter ice cream, if you like.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Keep Reading<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

[crckedcookies]

"𝑂ℎ, ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑!" they said.

My dear, this is nothing like the temptations that Disney films show. There is no poisonous apple, magic needle, or curse that can't be broken. We put heaps of love into everything in our own wonderful baking room.

The cookies are so delicious that you won't be able to eat just one. It's a never-ending euphoria that will transport you to a magical space, leaving you craving the homemade goodies we put our hearts into. We introduce you, 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐝𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬: a place where you’ll be taken to the realm of deliciousness, where every corner is nothing but 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐.

Sugar, spice, and the whole merry mix of ingredients. Allurement at its core; a call to anyone who would like to hear such pleasant tidbits! They are yours to enjoy at will, and each one is infused with a touch of enchantment that will warm your hearts and soothe your tenderest souls.

Are you willing to eat this cookie?

[aquagirl1978]

Good morning! Or day. I hope it’s going lovely for you. I was hoping to request 1 (or 26 if 1 is taken) with Sirius Oswald 😍 I adore your writing and can’t wait to read all the fics to come! ~Ally

Hi @yarnnerdally!!! I was thrilled when I saw your request - I have never written Sirius before, so I hope I do a good job with this. And I hope you don't mind, I tried to combined both prompts into this.

Hunger- Sirius Oswald x Reader (Ikemen Revolution)

A/N: Part of my Kinktober 2022 event.

Pairing: Sirius Oswald x Reader

Prompt: breeding/pregnancy

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; fingering; mentions of pregnancy; breeding; unprotected vaginal sex; multiple orgasms

A smile spread on your lips as a pair of hands encircled your waist, his touch warm and welcomed. You didn't think you'd ever get used to the fact that you were Sirius', and Sirius was yours.

A fluffy head rubbed against the soft curve of your neck, placing a biting kiss on your neck - the kind of kiss that left you wanting more and more. You laced your fingers with his, sighing softly, enjoying the embrace.

"What's cooking, little lady?" he asked, his breath tickling your ear.

You tilted your face, your lips meeting his in a soft, sweet kiss. "I baked you a pie. Apple."

He laughed, his eyes glittering with mischief, holding his hand against your flat midriff. "I do like apple. But I was hoping you'd tell me something else."

You swatted at his hand; averting your gaze, your cheeks burned, flushed with crimson. "It's way too early to know about that…"

Sirius spun you in his arms, lifting you onto the kitchen counter, pressing his lean body against yours. "Then we should keep on trying." He tilted your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to meet yours in a more passionate kiss. His tongue probed your parted lips, seeking entrance into your wanting mouth. Deepening the kiss, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Sirius slid his large hands under your skirt, his touch firm, spreading your thighs. With a devious smile, he inserted a long finger inside, slowly twisting and curling, pleased when his name was the only word whispered on your lips. 

Clawing at his belt, you fumbled with the buckle until his erection was freed. Stroking his shaft, your thumb teased his tip until a drop of precum appeared.

"Not yet," he said, removing your hand from his cock, his husky voice bringing a pout to your lips. He hiked up your skirt, his touch tender on your thighs leaving you whimpering. Burying your head against Sirius' shoulder, your moans muffled, he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, your arousal slick with wetness.

Gripping your hips firmly, he pulled you closer to the edge, spreading your legs as far as they would go. Darkened with desire, he eyed his treasure hungrily, his meal fully laid out before him. His groans like that of a primal beast, he began to push his massive cock inside you.

He took his time filling you; he was in no rush, and wanted you to enjoy the pleasurable stretch. In and out, inch by inch, Sirius continued to thrust slowly inside you until your body swallowed him whole.

He stayed still for a moment, allowing you the chance to see their bodies joined. "Good girl," he praised. "You always take me so well."

Shut up and fuck me, you wanted to reply, but instead you sat mesmerized, pleased you could handle your lover so well. 

Sirius began to thrust his hips against yours; each movement sending tiny thrills up your spine. Heat flooded your core, quickly spreading throughout your body like wildfire unleashed.

His pace quickened, his grunts growing louder each time his cock pushed into your body; pleasure building inside, you found yourself barely hanging on by a thread.

"Come for me," he coaxed, his fingers rubbing your clit. Closing your eyes, your body succumbed to the pleasure as you reached your first climax.

Sirius continued to thrust, his movements becoming harder and faster. Your head heavy, dizzy with desire, you wanted nothing more than to make your lover climax, too. 

Inside you. 

Sirius' hand rested on your belly, surely feeling his cock mercilessly impaling you. "I can't wait to see your belly swell with my seed. With our child." He kissed you, your moans melting on his lips. "I'll fill you every day if I have to."

Rapture rolled through your trembling body as Sirius filled you with his seed, giving you all that you desired. Filled with his love, you collapsed in his arms, clinging to his body.

He brushed a stray lock behind your ear, his thumb lingering, caressing your cheek. Soothing you, as you rested comfortably in his strong arms. 

"The pie…" you mumbled, too tired to move.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," Sirius said, placing a kiss on your forehead. "And after we have some, I'll thank you properly. In the bedroom."

Tagging: @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @alixennial @redheadkittys @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @kisara-16 @kpop-and-otome @atelieredux @rhodolitesrose @lordsisterxotome @lucyw260 @violettduchess @bellerose-arcana

[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.

***

[apolloendymion]

Apollo's Amazing Autumn Apple Cider Recipe 🍂🍏🎃🍄🕯️

This recipe got me a boyfriend, use its power wisely.

Makes about 3.5 L, concentrated. Depending on how strong you like it, this could be around 14-28 servings.

Tools:

stockpot, 6-quart size

potato masher

fine mesh strainer

Optional: citrus juicer, zester, apple corer/peeler/slicer, cheesecloth

Ingredients:

6 apples (variety is up to you! I use half of a sweet variety like gala, and half sour like granny smith)

1 orange (navel is most common where I live, but any good juicing variety is fine)

6 oz fresh cranberries

6 slices fresh ginger

8 cinnamon sticks

1 Tbsp whole cloves

1 Tbsp allspice

1/2 Tbsp anise or fennel

1/2 Tbsp nutmeg

1/2 Tbsp cardamom

32 oz brown sugar

Optional: 1 box cinnamon imperial candies (aka Red Hots), baking soda and lemon juice/apple cider vinegar to correct acidity

Steps:

1. Core and slice apples and add to the pot. It's best if you peel them (and I like eating the peels lol), but not strictly necessary.

2. Zest the orange, if desired, and discard the pith. You can add zest to the cider for a more orangey "zing," but I prefer to use it in sorbet with raspberries and basil :) Juice the orange and add the juice to the pot.

3. Add the cranberries, ginger, and enough water to fully cover the ingredients. Bring to a boil.

4. Once the mixture is boiling, stir, reduce heat to low, and cover. Simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

5. Turn off the heat and mash the mixture with your potato masher. It doesn't need to be applesauce, but make sure all berries and apple chunks have been smushed at least once by your mighty hand. Revel in your power as the vindictive God of the Apples.

6. Add the spices and enough water to fill the pot with an inch of room. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer for another 2 hours, stirring occasionally.

7. Turn off the heat. Add the sugar in 8 ounce increments, tasting as you go. I always use the full bag, but I like it sweet.

8. If you want more spice, I can't recommend cinnamon imperials enough. Cinnamaldehyde is the chemical in cinnamon that gives it that "kick," and cinnamon imperials are a cheap way to get your hands on lots of it. Add 5, let them fully dissolve, and taste before adding more. I usually add 10 total, but my spice tolerance is low.

9. If the mixture is too sour, you can add baking soda 1 tsp at a time. Make sure it stops bubbling completely, then stir, taste again, and add more if needed. Do the same with a 1/2 Tbsp of lemon juice or apple cider vinegar to make it more sour.

10. Strain the cider into a container. I strain once with just the mesh, then a second time with the cheesecloth over the mesh. That second step is optional; most mesh strainers will do a perfectly good job on their own.

11. Serve hot or cold, straight or diluted 1:1 with water (like I said, it's pretty concentrated). Store in the fridge.

Fun twists to add: ginger beer, caramel sauce, maple syrup, lemon juice, thyme/rosemary syrup, extra cinnamon imperials

Garnish suggestions: whole cloves, cinnamon sticks, star anise, allspice berries, apple slices, lemon/orange slices, zest, thyme/rosemary sprig, lemon balm/mint/basil leaves

Alcohol ideas: rum, bourbon, whiskey, applejack, triple sec, mojito fixings, moscow mule fixings, anything cinnamon or apple flavored, and my favorite: fireball 😁

Enjoy!

[practicalsolarpunk]

Preserving the Harvest: Apples

It wouldn’t be fall in my part of the world without apples everywhere. My two favorite ways to preserve them are apple butter and applesauce, both with lots of cinnamon! If you’ve only ever had store bought applesauce, please, do yourself a favor and make a small batch yourself, it is so much better!

First things first: what kind of apples?

We want baking apples, ones that don’t have a lot of juice. Jonagold, honeycrisp, and winesap are my preferred varieties. I’ll sometimes mix varieties, if I don’t have enough of one for a whole batch.

If you live within a reasonable distance from an orchard, go there and ask about seconds. These are the ones that have some damage and aren’t going to store for very long. They’re usually a bit cheaper!

Apple Butter

(Makes 5 pints)

14 apples

3 3/4 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup of cider vinegar

1 tbsp. + 2 cinnamon sticks

Sprinkling of ground cloves

There’s a few ways you can approach this: on the stove, in the oven, or in an electric roaster. I’ve done all three, and I think my preferred way is the roaster, mostly because it can hold the most at once*!

Peel, core, and quarter the apples. Put them in whatever you’re using and cook until soft. Press through a sieve or food mill. Add in remaining ingredients and cook on medium (350°f) for three or so hours, until it’s thick enough to mound up on a spoon. Remember to fish out the cinnamon sticks, if they end up in a jar, they could make it too cinnamon-y, supposedly. (I don’t think there’s any such thing, but others apparently do.)

Now can it! Jars, lids, and bands should be washed and checked for chips and flaws beforehand. Jars should be heated to near boiling or boiling, lids should be warmed slightly.

Ladle the butter into the jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Put the lids and bands on and return to the water bath. Bring to a boil and process for 10 minutes.

[photo id: a line of wide mouth pint mason jars, filled with dark brown apple butter.]

Applesauce

Apples

Water

Cinnamon

Peel, core, and quarter the apples. Place in a pot with just enough water to keep from burning or sticking. Cook over medium heat, lowering it if necessary to keep from boiling over.

When the apples are soft, add some cinnamon, less than you think you’re going to want. Mash the apples, or run them through a sieve or food mill. I prefer to leave some chunks, but others prefer a smoother sauce.

[photo id: a silver stock pot on a black cooktop. The pot is nearly full of pale, mashed apple.]

Taste it. Add more cinnamon if you want. Yay, it’s done!

Now, this can be canned or frozen, it works well either way. For freezing, just allow it to cool, then put it in containers suitable for freezing, mark it with the date**, and freeze!

For canning:

You’ll need jars, lids, and rings, washed and checked for chips or flaws.

Heat the jars in a pot of water. When you’re about 5 minutes out from canning, heat the lids slightly in a small pot on the stove. The goal is to warm them - the water should not even simmer.

Once everything is good and hot, it’s time to can! Ladle the sauce into the jars - a wide funnel specifically for canning is super helpful! - leaving about an inch of headspace. Put on the lids and rings and back in the pot of boiling (or close) water we go! Process in boiling water for 20 minutes. Don’t start timing it until it’s boiling.

Now, you can leave your jars in the pot to cool after they’ve processed, or you can take them out. This is one of those things that people seem to have very strong opinions about, but I’ve done it both ways without issue. The important thing is to leave them alone as much as possible for 24 hours, to make sure they seal.

[photo id: a line of mason jars filled with brown applesauce.]

*I use the recipe as guidelines and double or triple it. This works with butters because they are just cooked down, we’re not trying to get a jelly-like texture. I don’t recommend doubling with jams and jellies.

**it’s so important with preserving to label everything! This makes it easier to rotate through foods, using the oldest first!

Canning resources:

https://www.healthycanning.com/wp-content/uploads/USDA-Complete-Guide-to-Home-Canning-2015-revision.pdf

https://www.freshpreserving.com/canning-101.html

[graciethewriter]

Boys Will Be Boys ~Bucky Barnes~

Hey everyone! I hope you like this new bucky fic as much as i like writing it! Love you all! Mwah!

warnings: blood, core, violence, shootings,

summary: you get hurt on a mission and remind bucky it’s okay to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hundred muffins. One hundred and fifty chocolate chip cookies. Four trays of brownies and a whole kitchen of dishes.

You liked to call it stress baking. Usually it wasn't a problem, only when your anxiety got bad or when it was nearing time to go on another mission. Normally its not this bad, the baking usually stops after a few cookies and occasionally a tray of brownies, today was different.

"Tony?" you asked into the receiver

"Yeah Y/N what's up?" you sighed and ran your hand down your face in distress, holding back tears the wavering of your voice almost unnoticeable.

"Uh," you cleared your throat trying to rid the cry that was about to erupt out of it, "we need more flour, where are you? Can you bring me some?"

"Yeah I'll be there in five."

No more muffins. You tried to reason with yourself, they needed flour and right now you didn't have any. No more baking. Cracking another egg into one of the only fresh bowls you had left you settled on sugar cookies and made the remainder of the recipe until Tony walked in, a bag the size of his forearm in his hand.

For a moment he stood in shock, his mouth hung agape as he looked around the compound kitchen. Everyone knew a little bit about your obsession with baking, they knew if things were getting to be too much you would make a tray of brownies, or some cookies and call everyone down to have one or two but this was a little excessive.

"Holy shit."

"Oh! Hi Tony, I need that flour..." you trailed off taking in his expression "Would you like a cookie?" you asked hopefully

"Are there chocolate chunk?"

"Yeah, have a few, there's lots." you smiled, calling up to the AI system "F.R.I.D.A.Y can you tell everyone to come to the kitchen for a snack?"

"Yes Miss Y/L/N."

Soon enough all of the available avengers were situated in the kitchen, a muffin, cookie and brownie on their plate. Wanda knew more than anyone else about the whole baking thing, mostly because she could dip into the depths of your mind anytime she felt the need. She knew about the secret mission you were going on that night, she knew how worried you were that Bucky would be alone not knowing where you were or anything that was going on. You hated leaving Bucky in the dark but it had to happen, this was important. Wanda knew that as you looked at all of your best friends, you thought it might be the last time you ever looked at them again. The thought filled you with worry, fear, anxiety, and sadness, you loved them all so much.

"Anyone want me to make anything else?" you fake smiled, putting on your façade "Steve? That apple pie you love?"

"Oh yes please!" he said through a mouthful of brownie "Thank you Y/N!"

"No problem Stevie." you smiled sadly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually all the avengers left the kitchen and you sat there holding in your tears as you stressed over the solo mission, kneading the dough for the apple pie you promised Steve.

"Why all the baking?" A voice outside the room startled you, the slight panic making your hand shoot to cover your heart.

"Jesus Buck, you scared me."

"Why all the baking?" he asked again, harsher this time. "I know your stressed, you only bake when your stressed and earlier there was two hundred muffins here, stressed may be an understatement."

"I'm fine, just catching up on some baking for the week. I know how all of you forget to eat and these are easy snacks." It was becoming harder to make your voice not quiver, the mission was serious, it was a chance for possible kidnapping and you were scared but you could handle it. Maybe.

"You're lying. I thought you wouldn't lie to me but it seems like that's all everyone's been doing these days." he sighed leaving the kitchen

"Bucky!" You yelled after him, sighing after his steps faded out into the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, you got everything?" Tony asked from the dark of the Quinjet pad.

"Yeah I'm ready, it's just Hydra right?" you said sarcastically, boarding the Quinjet "Hey Tons? If I don't come back, please take care of Bucky for me." Tony nodded at you and winked

"Go get em"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why won't one of you give me a damn straight answer?" Bucky shouted smashing his fist on the table, it had been two days before he really started demanding answers.

"Bucky, we can't disclose anything to you. Sorry, I really wish I could tell you."

"You know what? Fuck you Steve, and fuck you Tony. If she's dead somewhere I'll kill you both." He stormed out of the room, and straight up the stairs.

Respectfully, he knocked on the door before trying to gain entry, the nineteen forty's part of him shining through.

"Bucky, you can come in." Wanda said, her accent prominent

"Where's Y/N?" Blunt. To the point.

"Did you ask Tony?" she said picking at her nail beds

"Yes, tell me where she is because they won't."

"You can't go tellin' them you know if I tell you." she reasoned, looking up at him from her bed.

"Fine, just tell me where she is... please."

"Solo mission at an 'abandoned' Hydra base, she will be fine, I'm sure of it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your breaths were sharp. Sore. Your ribs were likely broken but you still stood. Trying to get through to Tony on comms.

"Abandoned by fucking ass Anthony Stark." you mumbled getting up to fight again.

"Princess, you should really give up here, I'm beating your ass." the words reminding you of something Bucky would say to you. Bucky.

The motivation from the thought of never seeing Bucky again pulled you up off the ground and made you hurl yourself back into the fight. You got into a stance, punching from your left side the swivel of your hips giving you enough power to break his nose with a crunch, the blood oozed out of it and his shock gave you an opportunity to land a kick to his side, knocking him to the ground. You stepped on his groin as he yelped in pain.

"Don't. Call. Me. Princess." you spat your blood filled saliva at the man before knocking him out. Quickly you grabbed your thrown gun and put it back in your belt holster before going into the base, only to be met with more soldiers who you easily shot.

In record time, you retrieved the information you needed and kept the small stick in your hand while you exited. However you were not so lucky as to escape with the information, a man taller than yourself grabbed your gun from its holster behind you, shot your chest messily and kicked you around quite a bit. Before he could take the stick from you, or even find out you had it you quickly swallowed it and got up from the ground, only having enough energy to grab your gun back and kill him before you ell the the ground.

You woke back up a while later, blood pouring out every crevasse as you made your way back to the quinjet.

"T-tony!" you yelped into the speaker "I need medical..." you succumbed to sleep again as the quinjet flew on autopilot to the tower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Every avenger to the roof immediately." F.R.I.D.A.Y repeated in the compound.

Obeying, all the avengers rushed up to the roof just as the quinjet was landing. You had lost a lot of blood and were laying on the floor of the quinjet as everyone tried to get in. Bucky just glared at Tony, knowing something bad was happening, furious that he wasn't allowed to go with you.

Steve carried you out and started running with your body to the Medical wing, Bucky ran as fast as he could with Steve trying to get to help as soon as possible, you were bleeding too much, it was all too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been rushed into surgery and had been in there for hours, Bucky was on the verge of tears sitting in the waiting room. One of the surgeons had been out every hour to give an update but they weren't getting any better. Always starting out with 'She's lost a lot of blood.' but finally after five hours of restlessness, they all came out with smiles.

"We repaired most of her internal damage and got all three bullets out of her chest, also removing the device that was inside her, here mister Stark" the surgeon handed him the information stick. "She will have a big scar, but for now she is stable and ready to be seen. You all can go in if you want."

"Thank you Doctor." Steve said in his bravest tone, he had eaten most of the pie when you had left, and he felt bad now thinking that it may have been the last part of you he had. Natasha was the biggest emotional wreck, her mascara ran down her face in lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky went in after the others, he sat by your bed holding in the tears as you slept. Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked at Bucky's deteriorating façade.

"It's okay to cry Bucky, real men cry too." And so he did, he unleashed all his tears onto your legs and the blanket covering them, blubbering about how he could've lost you.

"Please don't do this to me again." He begged

"You kept me alert back there Buck, I'll never leave you, ever." Bucky still sat there and cried for a long time, but that was okay because he was your man, and real men cry.

[nelapanela94]

Every Sunday morning, the market took place in Trost main square. The stalls were all settled and the venue was already packed with people. Most of the buyers were locals who religiously visited with their families every weekend; some others were tourists looking for souvenirs to take back home.

"That old lady was so kind" You swallowed the last bite of your apple and threw the core into the nearest trash bin. You were about to rubbed your hands on your dress, but your companion shot you a glare while taking his handkerchief out of his pocket. "What would I be without you, Levi?" You snorted, your mouth curving into a smile.

"A walking mess" The ravenette dryly replied.

"Ow, meanie" You pouted jutting out your lower lip, arms crossed over your chest.

"Tsk, you got everything?"

"let's see" you opened the bag he was carrying on his shoulder and scanned the content. "we've got cheese, bread, ham, butter, rice, flour, apples, peaches... and your herbs. Yeah, that's pretty much it"

You lifted your gaze and your eyes were instantly attracted to the freshly baked apple tarts displayed on the bakery's counter at the end of the street. Your whole face lit up, and looked back at Levi with puppy eyes. "Can we?"

He clicked his tongue at your dirty trick. "You spoiled brat. Let's go before they cool down" and grabbed your hand leading the way.

You startled, staring wide eyed at your holding hands. The day you started dating officially, the ebony-haired asked you to keep your relationship a secret, only if you agreed. He claimed he didn't want people teasing you both, plus he already had enough with the mad titan lover. You thought it would be fun, an assented to his proposal. Nonetheless, certain people eventually found out: Erwin, Hange, Moblit and Mike. Others had their suspicions, but lacked the means to get the evidence to prove it. They were afraid that if they push too much, they would end up in stable duty or cleaning lettrines for a month.

Even though PDA was a utter no, you and Levi had your very own way to reaffirm your love to each other every day. It was through simple, but meaningful acts. He would brew tea for you and leave it on your desk every morning, while you'd sneak little love notes and poems in his office when he was away; or stealing glances at each other during meetings as well.

Behind closed doors, however, it was a complete different story. The usually grumpy captain was surprisingly clingy and affectionate, hugging and pressing kisses on your cheeks while in bed, or having you sitting on his lap while doing his paper work at late night hours.

The only inconvenient of hiding your relationship was that some cadets would flirt with you. Some would also get you flowers, sweets and letters, which you politely declined while Levi would scared them away with a glare.

You were waiting at the table for Levi to come back with your order when someone touched your shoulder from behind. You jolted and looked back, the corners of your mouth turned up. "Peter!" You stood up and greeted the man with a warm hug. "It's been so long" You released him from the embrace. "I thought you were posted in Orvud"

"Yeah, I'm just visiting my grandparents for the weekend" The man with sienna brown eyes replied.

"You haven't changed a bit"

"and you're even prettier than the last time we met, (name)" You slightly blushed at his compliment and averted the eyes.

"Thanks"

"Ahem" You swiveled around meeting an already annoyed Levi. He placed the tray on the table and lifted a brow. You cleared your throat and spoke. "Levi this is Peter, a childhood friend. He used to live next door, and we both enrolled the Training Corps together" A jittery smiled formed on your lips.

"and Pete, this is Levi, Captain Levi and… he's uh…uh.. He's…" Twiddling your thumbs, you wondered what to say. You were supposed to keep it a secret. "a friend" You dubiously explained. "A good friend"

With a minatory look plastered on Levi's face you knew you had screwed it up. A friend? His irritation flared. First, you call him Pete, and now I'm just her friend? A good friend?

"Nice to me…" Before Peter finished his sentence, the raven-haired grabbed your wrist firmly and swiftly pulled you to him, crashing his mouth on yours. He kissed you hungrily and possessively, drawing the attention of other customers and passersby. Peter looked away scratching the back of his head, patiently waiting.

You were left panting, grasping for air when Levi pulled apart.

“I’m not her friend,” He growled softly. “I’m her boyfriend. Nice to meet you too.”

[highfaelucien]

for elucien: maybe some soft content of lucien and elain cooking together

send me ship fic prompts!

Elain looked up as she heard a small tap at the door of the kitchen. She glanced towards Nuala and Cerridwen, both of whom remained relaxed, though she couldn't think who would be knocking.

Anyone who typically stayed here, Feyre and Rhys and their Inner Circle, none of them would have knocked. They would just have barged in, on a varying spectrum of politeness.

Azriel was at one end, and Cassian was on the other, which felt an appropriate way of measuring the two brothers' personalities.

"Come in!" she called, looking up from her flour dusted work table.

A golden glimmer caught her eye as one mechanical eye and one of glimmering red peered owlishly around the doorway.

"Lady Elain," he said with that courtly grace, giving her as refined a bow as any she'd ever seen, "Your sister told me that I could find you here. May I approach?"

"Oh," Elain said, a little flustered, feeling her cheeks go warm for reasons entirely unrelated to the heating oven behind her, "Oh, yes, of course, my lord-" she catches herself, remembering that he's not a lord, she corrects, "Lucien."

He inclined his head slightly and approached, carrying a small wicker basket in front of him, which he set gently on the worktop in front of her.

"Your sister told me that you liked to bake down her most days," he said, watching her almost warily, as though he expected her to snap at him for merely being here, "So I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she repeated, blinking down at the basket.

"It won't bite," he said, with a small smile, "You can open it."

Tentatively, she slid the lid open and peered inside. At once, a tart, wonderful smell of fresh, crisp apples, unlike any she'd ever experienced, emerged from the basket.

She gave a little squeal of delight and took one from the basket, holding it in her hand. It was larger than any she'd ever seen, gleaming as brightly red as a forge. And the smell, even unpeeled, she had never smelled anything so mouthwatering or delicious.

Lucien smiled a little at her reaction to them and answered the question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue, "They're from the Autumn Court."

There was a flicker in his eyes he couldn't quite read, a sadness, deep and haunted. And she felt it. She felt it, a deep pang in her own chest, twin and echo to what she saw in him. She wasn't sure if he was aware of that, as he kept talking, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"My mother sent it to me," he told her, and there was a tightness to his voice. She knew little of the other courts, but she had heard Lucien's mother lived a sad existence trapped with his father. "She told me, she told me to offer it to you, so that you would know that Autumn has more to it than the violence and brutality seen from outside."

He laid a gentle hand on the basket's lid, one slim finger tracing another of the apples. They had a meaning to him. A connection to his old court, his old home, the mother he had not seen in so long.

"I thought, perhaps, you could use them in your baking," he said, straightening up and taking a breath, composing himself, "They are best enjoyed when they are cooked."

"They smell even better than this?" Elain blurted, eyes widening.

Lucien huffed a soft laugh, and it felt, oddly, like a victory, "They do indeed. They are made for roasting, for bonfires, and mead. I think they will be an excellent treat for those upstairs. And for you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said, giving him a polite little curtsy, "This is very thoughtful," she gestured towards Nuala and Cerridwen, the two wraiths watching silently but, she knew, listening to every word, "We were actually about to make a pie. I think now it shall be an apple pie."

He smiled at that, then gave her another bow and made to leave. Something about the way he turned, the way his touch had lingered upon the apples, the smell of him, of Autumn, that lingered, the sadness in his eyes, the sadness in her chest, has her calling out to him.

"Perhaps you could stay?"

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced up, but kept their thoughts to themselves, as always.

Lucien turned slowly, seeming a little startled, and looked at her with raised eyebrows, "That's not necessary," he said carefully, "Please, don't feel obliged."

"I don't," she told him firmly, trying to be more assertive, "I think it would be nice to have a practiced hand to show me precisely how to, to slice and spice these apples. So that they taste their best."

He hesitated just a moment, then he gave her a smile and tied his long red hair up into a loose bun on top of his head, securing it with a leather band around his wrist.

"I can certainly do that," he told her, with a soft smile, "I've roasted more of these in my lifetime than I'd care to count."

She gave him a little smile, then turned to Nuala and Cerridwen and said, trying, and failing, to control her blush, "The kitchen may be a little crowded with four of us. I think I can manage, with Lucien's help. Perhaps you could attend to your other duties? I know you're both very busy."

It was painfully transparent, but neither of her friends made any mention of that. They just gave her and Lucien little bows, then vanished through the wall.

Lucien gave an exaggerated shiver at the sight, "Does that ever get unnerving?" he asked Elain, squinting down at her.

She giggled, "I suppose it was at first," she admitted, "I've gotten used to them. Mostly. But I still get a fright if I turn around and they're standing inside the table. I thought perhaps it was just a holdover from my being human."

"No," Lucien said wryly, "That's definitely not a human thing. Standing in tables is downright unsettling."

Elain smiled again, then added, "They've been good friends to me, despite their blatant abuse of furniture. And they're very good bakers."

"That I can attest to as well," Lucien said, washing his hands at the sink, "Their pastries are deliciously light."

She couldn't help noting, out of the corner of her eye, as he rolled up his sleeves, that his arms were corded with muscle, and well toned.

He didn't have the bulk of Cassian, or even Azriel, who was less of a 'beefcake', to use Mor's word, than his brother, but still broad-chested and muscular. He was more delicately crafted, and she bit her lip as her brain very firmly did not object to that one bit.

Lucien didn't seem to notice her ogling. Or if he did, he was polite enough to pretend that he didn't, for which she was grateful.

"Why don't we prepare the apples together?" she suggested, "The pie crust is nearly ready, after all, and there are quite a few of them. I can peel if you don't mind chopping?"

"I am at your service, my lady," Lucien replied, giving her another sweeping bow, "Your kitchen, your authority."

"I don't think anyone has ever given me authority before," she mumbled, before she could stop herself, picking up one of the apples and starting to peel it with a sharp knife.

Lucien took out a cutting board and set it down beside her, fishing a knife from the nearby block.

He smiled as he waited for her to finish with her apple. As she handed it to him, he said, "If you were given authority, over a whole court, let's say, what would it be? A court of pastries and cream? Or perhaps roses and violets?"

She considered, humming, then said bluntly, "Well, it would certainly have a lot more sunlight than there is here."

Lucien laughed, even as she blushed.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling even the newly pointed tips of her ears growing hot, "That sounded rather rude and ungrateful, didn't it?"

"Actually," Lucien said, leaning in conspiratorially, so she once again caught his scent, and trembled with it, "It was quite refreshing. I know that Rhys has an aesthetic to maintain, the dark and broody git, and there's a definite beauty to all of this," he waved his knife around airily, "But it does get a bit depressing day after day."

Elain gave a little squeaky at the mention of Rhys being a 'dark and broody git' but otherwise smiled at Lucien's assessment.

"No-one else seems to have a problem with it," she said, watching as Lucien efficiently cored and sliced the apples she passed him.

He was clearly practiced in the kitchen, which surprised her. She'd been told he was a High Lord's son, a prince - she wasn't sure why they were called princes when their father's were lords, but hadn't questioned it - she hadn't expected culinary training to be in his skillset.

"In fact they all seem to like it, even," she said, with a little sigh, "I miss summers in the mortal lands. Everyone keeps telling me I should stop thinking about it. That my life is here now, but..."

"But it was your home for most of your life," Lucien said quietly, "And that is difficult to forget, or fully escape from, no matter how long you're gone from it."

She nodded, and watched him examine the apple in his hand, that sad longing back on his face.

"Do you miss your home, too?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her, weighing her, apparently judging how to answer, sincere, or sarcastic. To her surprise, he chose sincerity.

"I do," he said quietly, "Both of them." He sighed very deeply, "I have bad memories connected to both Spring and Autumn. Terrible memories, if truth be told, but..."

"But there are good memories, too," Elain said quietly, finishing the thought, "And other people seem to forget those. Maybe that's why it's been so easy for them to move on with their new lives."

Lucien peered down at her, holding her gaze for a long time, then he nodded.

"When I was given quarters in Tamlin's manor," he said, turning that burning gaze away from her to confront the apples again, "I chose to decorate the space as my rooms had looked at Autumn. Dark wood pannelling, oranges, and reds, and yellows, the colours of the bonfires and falling leaves. Tamlin and the others couldn't understand it. They had thought I would want to erase every memory of that court, after what had happened to me there."

Elain didn't press him to go into details about what precisely that had been. She had overheard snippets and gossip, but she had never gotten the full story. Now did not feel like the time for it.

"They didn't understand," he said, shaking his head, "I left Autumn, left it gladly. But a part of my heart still belonged there. A part of my heart will always belong there. Just as another part will always belong to Spring. My mother was of Autumn. There was a fire in my blood that called to that court. the festivals, and bonfires. The plants, and the people. The scents, and the food, and the beauty of it.

"I still remembered those things fondly. I didn't want to let myself forget. I didn't want to become the kind of person who consisted only of scars, and sadness, defined only by the terrible things that have happened to them."

He huffed a soft laugh and had to stop himself dragging his long fingers through his hair while he was around food.

"I apologise, lady," I came here to deliver you some apples, not wax lyrical on my philosophy of life," he said, inclining his head towards her.

But she laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, "No, I like to hear it. It...It's good to hear, honestly. I don't like to forget the good times, either. Nesta and Feyre, they fit in so well here, and have taken so well to being fae, on the whole. I know that whenever anyone mentions our past in the human world, they think of that cottage. They think of freezing winters, and near starvation. Of abandonment, and rejection, and sadness. So I don't blame them for finding that easy to leave behind."

"What about you, Elain?" Lucien asked, very quietly, "What do you think of?"

Elain closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling a soft smile touch her lips, "I think of the cottage too," she admitted, "But I remember the way we all clustered around the fire under a big blanket, all of us.

"I remember my little windowbox, and the wild flowers I grew. I tried vegetables, but the seeds were too expensive, and the soil quality was too poor and shallow in my little box. But the flowers made me smile. They brought some colour to our dull, cold world when we needed it most.

"I remember Feyre's painting. And father's carvings. And the stories Nesta wrote and hid from us, but I still found them.

"I remember riding horses with mother when I was little. And pretty dresses that made me feel like a princess.

"I remember singing, and laughing, and living with my family. And sometimes, sometimes I feel mad for focusing on those little things, when everything else was so awful. I feel silly, and childish, and like I should think of things how they were."

"You are," Lucien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, finding him watching her with something close to awe on his face, "All of those things were real. They happened. They are true memories. I, I don't think it is childish to focus on the small things that brought you joy when the world was bleak and full of misery and pain. I think that makes you strong, and wonderful. In a world of harsh, jagged stones, and concrete walls, you find the beauty of the wildflowers growing up between the cracks. That, that is a very special, and noble way to live, I think."

"You see them too, don't you?" she said softly, "The flowers in the windowbox, and fighting to grow between the cracked stones. It's how you've survived after everything that's happened."

Lucien swallowed tightly, but nodded, "I try to," he replied, a little hoasely, "It's not always easy but...I try."

Elain nodded, "Me too," she murmured.

There was a long, intense silence, like a string being pulled taut between them. She felt herself leaning into it, both excited and afraid. Then Lucien cleared his throat and looked away.

She felt the relief, as the tension broke, but also a little disappointment, unable to discover where it might have pulled her to.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien said, too loudly, "Look at all these apples."

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, only just taking note of the small mountain of slices between them, "Oh, yes."

"Come on," Lucien said, giving her a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease after that charged moment they had shared, "This is the best part."

It took him a moment, opening several cupboards, cursing under his breath when he caused a small avalanche of poorly stacked pots to come tumbling out of one, but he finally straightened up with a large mixing bowl held triumphantly in his hands.

He scooped all of the apple slices into it, then began raiding the spice rack. She lost track of all of the different things he tossed into the bowl. He gave it a final sniff, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, get stuck in," he said, nodding to her with a glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and he stuck his hands into the bowl with almost indecent enthusiasm, mixing the spices with the fruit slices.

Smiling, she stepped up shyly and put her hands into the bowl with him.

They stayed quiet as they mixed, but occasionally their eyes met, and, even more intensely, their hands.

Finally, Lucien deemed it ready, and they began lining the apple slices at the bottom of the pie tin. He showed her how to weave a traditional Autumn lattice on the top, and even how to make some leaf patterns from the leftover pastry.

While it baked, Elain soaked in the scents of it cooking. Lucien was right, it was so much better than it was originally. As it went on, she noted Lucien was starting to shift a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Elain asked, biting her lip, "Is my pastry not good enough to contain your magnificent Autumn apples?"

He glanced to her, mechanical eye whirring softly, and did not bite at her attempt at humour. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I should partake in this particular pie, Elain."

She frowned slightly, "Why not?" she asked, confused.

"It's, it's mainly a symbolic gesture, but I wouldn't want to take any chances. When, when a woman," she noted his use of the word 'woman' instead of 'female' with a jolt of pleased surprise, "Offers her mate food, and they accept, it generally seals their bond."

"Oh," Elain said, flushing as darkly as his hair.

"I'm not saying that if I eat this it will bind us togeher forever, with no choice, and no backing out but- To be honest with you, I have no idea what it will do, and I wouldn't want to take that risk."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a little too quickly, given the flash of quickly smothered pain in Lucien's face. "I mean, I'd like to take a little more time with things, if we could."

"We're immortal," Lucien said, with a small smile, "We can take all the time there is," he glanced at the large clock on the wall and added, "And speaking of time, I realise I'm almost late for my meeting with Azriel. He gets very grumpy when his guests aren't as punctual as he is."

"Azriel is always very punctual," Elain said, a little lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"So I shall take my leave, lady," Lucien said, with another bow.

The formality felt...A little strange between them now, and she wasn't sure what she thought about that. She still didn't really know this man at all, and yet, what they had shared...

"Please tell me if you like the apples," he said, with a small smile.

"I will," she said, giving him a little curtsy in turn, "And please, give your mother my thanks."

"I will," he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told her he wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to do that. If he ever did.

He turned to go, and she again found herself starting forwards, halting him once more, "Lucien," she said, and he glanced back towards her, "If, if you ever find yourself with any more fruits for baking. Or, or just the next time you're here, if you wanted to help me bake again I, I think I'd like that."

The smile Lucien gave her in answer was nothing short of a beam, something she had never seen from him before. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, and softer.

He inclined his head to her in gratitude, then winnowed into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of cinnamon and campfires, the perfect complement to their baking pie.

***

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed!! (I got carried away and I'm SORRY).

[domesticdeanwinchester]

so Dean owns an apple orchard.

his property is pretty big, big enough to fit his precious orchard, a modest little house for himself, Sam, and Eileen, and a converted barn with a front porch he installed himself that he uses as his business front. the barn doors are always open, and there's a wall full of fridges filled with jugs of his apple cider and frozen premade pastries and pies, ready to get popped in the oven. there's a whole bakery case dedicated to the pies he bakes daily, all kinds of flavors made with home grown berries and apples. there's another bakery case for the rest of the pastries he makes, the fritters and turnovers and cookies and everything. the rest of the barn is filled with little displays for crafts. Dean likes to whittle and carve in his free time, and if he makes something he likes enough he'll pop an affordable price tag on it and stick it on one of the shelves. Eileen has decided to sell some of her handpainted signs and those weird little apple core dolls she likes to make. she and Sam like to help out at the store, working behind the counters while Dean bakes or helps people with the apple picking tools.

Dean uses his apples to make his own apple pies, apple fritters, apple turnovers, even apple cookies when he's feeling it. he's attempted apple donuts as well, but those never turn out as delicious as the main orchard's do, so he doesn't do those often. he also presses his own fresh apple cider, and he keeps a giant igloo cooler full of it on the porch with a stack of paper cups next to it so people can taste test. there's a sign next to it that says "one cup per person" but he always turns a blind eye when the kids come back for seconds or thirds.

Dean's orchard is one that's included on the local map of orchards and farms that people go crazy over every fall and make the drive to visit for their yearly fix of all things apple and pumpkin. during the peak season he joins in on the festivities and lets some of his friends set up their craft stalls in the space in front of the barn. Claire sells funky colored candles she makes herself, Kaia sells hand made jewelry and beaded dreamcatchers. Pamela Barnes tells fortunes and sells tarot cards. Charlie hand dyes tie dye shirts and has the most colorful stand of them all.

every year people from all over flock to his orchard for his goodies and these booths, families strolling through the stalls, admiring the beautiful crafts before taking their sample of cider and then heading inside to buy a jug to take home, and a few apple pastries to boot. no one ever leaves without something. Sam and Eileen are good like that.

Jody and Donna love to visit Dean's orchard every season, and they'll stop by often in the off season as well. They have a place of their own up the road, and they quickly became close friends with the Winchester clan. Garth and his family are another set of regulars, they live in the area too, and they visit every season for their fall fill. His kids have a fondness for Eileen's apple core dolls.

one season brings a new face to the mix. Two new faces, actually.

Castiel and his four year old son, Jack. They visit the orchard, drawn in by the hand painted sign boasting apple picking that Sam staked in the front drive so passing cars could see.

that's something they do here, too. Apple picking. It's one of the most popular things about his orchard. Dean's got a wide array of those fancy apple picking sticks, you know the ones with the basket at the end that cradles the apple ad you just twist until it falls loose into the bottom of the basket. they hang from the side of the barn, and whenever someone shows interest in picking apples, Dean will take them there, pass everyone a stick and a bag and explain to them how to use the sticks and how to know which apples are ripe for the picking. then he points the groups to the little path into the orchard and sends them on their way. it's always a joy to see the groups when they come back, bags straining from their fill of apples, dirt smudged faces with huge grins and happy eyes.

on their first visit, Cas and Jack take their time walking through the craft stalls, and Jack points out every shiny thing and every pretty color. Cas buys him a tie dyed t-shirt and a pretty blue dreamcatcher. when Jack sees the apple cider cooler he practically drags Cas over and makes him pour them each a cup. Jack drinks his quickly, smacking his lips and letting out a loud "yummm". he tugs on Cas's coat and holds his cup out, tilting his head. "more?" he asks. and Cas points at the sign and tells Jack, "we're only supposed to have one each, Jack. maybe we can get some to take home, though." Jack lights up at that, but before they can head inside the barn, Dean is there and he's pouring another cup and sliding it over to Jack and holding a finger to his lips like it's some sort of secret, then he winks over at Cas. "you didn't hear it from me, but the sign's usually just a suggestion," he tells them. Cas chuckles, and before he can thank Dean for his kindness, Dean's jerking his chin towards the jug and dropping his eyes to Cas's empty cup. "go on,, fill 'er up. i know you want to," he says. Cas hesitates but then Dean waggles his eyebrows and Cas laughs again and fills his cup. "thank you, it's very good." "yeah?" Dean asks, grinning. his chest sort of puffs up a bit and he leans an elbow against the railing. "made it myself," he says casually. Cas's eyebrows shoot up and he's like "oh, wow, that's incredible. it really is amazing." and Dean's cheeks pink a little under the praise and he's like "well thanks, there's more inside if you want to take some home with you." (bc of course he's not going to miss an opportunity to pitch his product a little lol).

Cas and Jack head inside with Dean and they talk about the place a little more and the subject eventually circles to the apple picking, and Jack perks up at that, and Cas mentions that that's why they stopped here. and Dean grins and takes them to the side of the barn where the apple picking tools are, and he goes through his whole spiel, but Cas, poor guy, doesn't seem to understand how the apple picking stick works, so Dean offers to go with them and show him. and so Dean ends up heading into the orchard with them and he shows Cas how to use the stick, and he goes so gooey inside when Cas lights up when he successfully picks his first apple. and god, if he felt like that when Cas did, then when Jack picks his first apple, hoisted up by Cas, Dean positively melts. it's adorable.

they talk a lot while they pick apples, about anything and everything. getting to know each other, telling stories, laughing, smiling, having a good time.

when they finally head back to the barn, it's getting dark. Dean rings Cas's apples and cider and pastries (bc of course he goaded Cas into buying some of those, not that it was difficult) and Dean walks Cas and Jack back to their car because he doesn't want his time with them to end. and once Jack is buckled in, Cas stops next to Dean who's standing there with his hands in his pockets, and Cas just smiles softly at him and Dean goes "hope I see you around," and Cas grins and maybe steps forward to kiss his cheek real quick, and goes "you will" before getting in his truck and driving off.

and Dean does see Cas again. Cas and Jack become regulars at the orchard, coming back for more apples and more cider often. they like to hang around sometimes, too, and everyone with a craft stall there takes a liking to Jack too.

and maybe the end of the peak fall season is starting to come to a close, and Dean is worried that that means his seeing Cas will come to an end, too, but then he learns that Cas and Jack just moved into the area, so they're really here to stay, and peak season or not, they're not going anywhere. and Cas mentions something about maybe opening his own booth here next season to sell honey from his bees.

and come next peak season, Cas doesn't need his own booth because his honey sits on its very own display case inside the barn right next to his boyfriend's pastries.

(and the following peak season, Dean and Cas end up getting married right in the middle of the apple orchard with their family and friends surrounding them and jack throwing handfuls of apple blossoms.)

[abberant-butler]

Peace

Barbatos, Luke. Word count: 693 😌💕

Although Luke may never have been able to say it out loud, the excitement on the young angel’s face was always evident when he arrived for a new lesson. Those bright blue eyes sparkled all the way from the foyer to the kitchen as Barbatos explained what they would be doing that day. Even for the usually reserved butler, it was hard not to smile at the fledgling’s enthusiasm.

“Does that mean we’re going to make the crust this time, too?” A few over exaggerated steps that were nearly jumps punctuated the angel’s question.

“I intend to show you how, yes. However the resting period is usually overnight, so I have also prepared a couple of crusts for us to use so we may practice the filling as well. Then you’ll have something to take home.”

Luke began to explain all about how Simeon had told him to stop keeping the results of his baking practice in Purgatory Hall. Only so much could ever hope to be eaten, and it was a shame to waste good treats. Conveniently the Avatar of Gluttony was also a rather well-behaved guest when he wasn’t promised more than was delivered, and Luke talked on and on about the schedule he had with Beelzebub to pick up any left-over sweets. What a long way the fledgling had come. Barbatos kept his pace measured as they walked down the halls, but from time to time even the demon found his hips swaying playfully along with Luke’s when the angel got to a particularly passionate part of the story. It usually included Beelzebub eating something whole, however it no longer carried the undercurrent of horror. The lack of Simeon’s dutiful presence also cemented a warm realization in Barbatos; Luke trusted him.

As usual for their lessons, the kitchen had been laid out with pre-measured ingredients surrounding their stations. Luke’s station had a step stool in front of it that matched the metal of the countertops so as not to draw attention to itself. Barbatos had installed it after their first lesson when he observed the angel struggling to see what was going into the bowl. He’d never directly mentioned it. Neither had Luke, even as the angel excitedly lifted himself up, rocking even further forward onto his toes to look over everything on the counter.

“I thought you said we were making a human-world apple pie?”

“We are, yes.”

“Then why are there lemons?”

“I’ve chosen tart apples, which will be balanced by the citrus of the lemons and the sweetness of the sugar. It’s not very traditional, but it is something unique which I don’t think many humans or angels have often had.” Even with Barbatos’ explanation, Luke looked rather unsure. “Think of it as an exercise of trust. Sometimes the bitter things in life can become sweet with kind effort and direction.”

This was what seemed to settle the angel enough that they could begin their task. Removing his gloves, Barbatos was surrounded by the lingering history of warm sun and swift harvest, of brief brushes with human life and effort. He always tried to use imports for baking with Luke. It was a nice way to solidify his own skills with the foreign food, and to assure the young angel that nothing cursed or wicked had worked its way into the treats he liked to give out as gifts. The expense of it was easily written off as a necessity for the exchange program.

As always, Luke was observant and thorough in his questions and replication. Barbatos tried to go slow enough for the fledgling to predict his movements and even ‘lead’ from time to time, just so he could hear that bubbly laugh and watch those bright eyes. How strange to find the angel so changed from when he’d first arrived. Stranger still for Barbatos to realize how fond he’d grown as well. Watching Luke lean in close to meticulously crimp the edges of his pie, and painstakingly cut out some stars to put on top of the crust before brushing it all down, Barbatos saw the first real glimpse of Prince Diavolo’s plans; peace.

Tart Apple and Lemon Pie

(Mun note: pie crust is best formed half in math and half in magic. I leave that up to you. Store-bought is also fine.)

Filling:

5-6 tart apples (about 6ish cups sliced) 2 tbsp all-purpose flour 1/3 cup packed brown sugar (dark or light) 1/2 fresh lemon, sliced into thin rounds, seeds removed 1 tablespoon butter cut into small cubes

Preheat oven to 425F. Roll out one circle of pie crust and place into pie dish. (Do not stretch the dough). Make sure to gently guide it into the corners of the plate. Set aside until ready to fill.

Peel, core, and slice apples. Place in a large mixing bowl. Thinly slice half a lemon into rounds. Cut each round in half, remove the seeds. Add the lemon to the apples. Add the flour and brown sugar to the mixing bowl and gently toss to coat. If you have very tart apples, taste to check sweetness levels. If needed, add sugar as necessary.

Pour the apple filling into the pie dish, forming a mound in the center of the pie. Dot the filling with the butter cubes.

Roll out the top crust and place over the pie filling. Trim excess and crimp the edges.

Bake the pie on the middle rack for 15 minutes at 425 F, and then  (without opening the oven)  reduce the temperature to 375 F and bake an additional 45 minutes until the crust is golden. Check the pie approximately 15 minutes before the cooking time is up and tent the edges with foil or a pie protector to prevent excess browning.

[ladykissingfish]

The Great Akatsuki Bake-Off

*this was a request in my inbox, I’m so sorry Anonymous I accidentally deleted it before I could reply, but I saw your message and here’s the response! ❤️*

Premise: The Akatsuki is broke af (again), and Pein comes up with the idea of having a bake sale to earn money. Every member of the Akatsuki makes a dessert to sell; chaos (or hilarity) ensues.

**Also I picture them setting up tables outside of one of the Akatsuki hideout caves which of course is equipped with a fully functioning kitchen because why not Jim**

Pein

It was his idea, he’s the leader, so naturally he ain’t cooking. The most the Pein-body will do is sit in the kitchen with Konan while she cooks, offering his opinion or praise.

Kisame

Kisame isn’t the biggest fan of sweets, so is at a bit of a loss for what to make. In the end, he decides to go with something that’s decidedly more savory than sweet; bacon-flavored scones with a maple syrup glazing. This requires some kneading and precise shaping, the latter of which requires small, delicate fingers that Kisame borrows Konan for. Should be noted that he wears a pink Kiss The Cook apron, and he blushes like crazy when Konan reads it and delivers one to his cheek. He gets a bit over-exuberant with the icing, getting more of it on the table than the actual scones. However, the end result is light, fluffy, and absolutely delicious. Deidara especially loves the bacon aspect, and is able to snitch a great number of these until Kakuzu catches him and forces him to pay up.

Deidara

Deidara would make a classic lava cake. He’d know absolutely nothing about this dessert beforehand; he’d be going through a cookbook, his eyes would fixate on the word “lava”, and he’d be sold. Sasori insists that he put on rubber gloves beforehand, because “Nobody wants your hand-drool in their food, brat.” Lava cake requires a very delicate touch and precise timing, something that Deidara has had to become familiar with when deploying his arsenal of bombs. Yet despite being careful he would have to start and re-start this mix many times; maybe he gets eggshells in the batter here, or mistakes oil for milk there. The inside of a lava cake has to smooth and liquid-y but the outside has to be soft yet firm; a single minute in the oven can make the difference between wonderful and awful for these little cakes. When he finally perfects one, he’s ecstatic; but the rest of the group is horrified, at how destroyed the kitchen is. Chocolate batter and powdered sugar covering every wall; yet, somehow, the guy himself remains spotless. Also, Deidara has made another critical error; he assumed that because the recipe was for a cake, it was for a LARGE cake that he could cut into sections and sell piece by piece. However, lava cakes are always small, individual desserts ... and Deidara has only made ONE. Still, he’ll take his one beauty and sell it almost immediately, leaving him time to wander around and filch “free samples” from everyone else’s dishes.

Zetsu

Nobody wants Zetsu trying to cook, because everyone is terrified of what he’d put into his creations. However, White Zetsu insists that (t)he(y) wants to participate, so the others hesitantly let him do so (with everyone periodically coming in to monitor him). His contribution? Pie. Zetsu knows that the key to delicious pie is in the light flakiness of the crust, and he creates several pies that literally melt in the mouth. And he doesn’t just do one flavor; he does apple, blueberry, cherry, and something he calls “surprise berry” ((which is really just a mix of raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry). Before Tobi goes to help Itachi, he’s in charge of helping Zetsu gather up the fruit, and he helps to peel and core and pit and wash until “my hands are really sleepy Zetsu-san!” Zetsu thinks his pies are perfect creations as a whole but Kakuzu insists he cuts them into individual slices to maximize profits, which White Zetsu balks over but Black Zetsu tells him to be quiet about.

Konan

Konan is a delicate, beautiful flower, so naturally anything she makes would reflect this. After much deliberation, she decides to make her version of a layered lemon mascarpone cake. The cake itself is a wonderfully moist vanilla sponge infused with lemon curd, layered with a thick lemon, honey and mascarpone cream, topped with fresh berries, and a light sprinkle of chopped pecans. At first she was only going to make one cake and portion it out into about 20 small pieces; but the demand for it was so high that Kakuzu told her he’d stay and sell the rest while she got back into the kitchen and made another. She’s by far the neatest chef in the kitchen, as she cleans up her mess as she goes so when she’s through, all she has to wash is the empty cake pan itself. She makes sure to save a large piece to secretly take to Nagato later; it’s been a long time since he’s had anything sweet to eat.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu doesn’t want to cook; he’d rather be the one running the sale. However he recognizes that the more desserts they have the more profit they can make, so he grudgingly makes a few trays of brownies. His secret ingredient? Sour cream. At first everyone sees him putting this into his mix and think he’s gone crazy; however, after they try one ((and don’t think for a second he’s not charging his fellow teammates for even a tiny sliver)) they’re blown away by how good they are. After he sets his items on the table, he’s the one who collects the money from the customers. Has to be talked down from the exorbitant prices that he tries to charge people at first. “How much for a piece of blueberry pie?” “500,000 ¥.”

Sasori

He really isn’t into baking (because why would he be? he doesn’t eat) but he knows how to read and follow a recipe. After some careful thought, he chooses to make cupcakes. At first he resolves only to make a dozen, and to keep it all one simple flavor: the chocolate with vanilla frosting that’s in the recipe. Yet as he stands there, a feeling takes hold of him; he remembers happier times, perched on a stool in the kitchen and watching/helping his grandmother as she cooked. That nostalgia drives him to get more creative, and make MUCH more than intended. Some of his creations are great; such as his ginger-chocolate cupcakes with fudge icing. But others, like his broccoli and carrot cake topped with “spicy” cream cheese, not so much. Regardless, the majority of his creations sell, which Sasori’s pleased about. Should be noted that Kakuzu did not entirely trust Sasori not to put some kind of poison into his dessert, so he forced Hidan to sneak and taste-test everything (as he’s the only one who would regenerate from certain death). But Hidan wouldn’t know arsenic from cinnamon; and he winds up with a hell of a stomach-ache after his forced culinary servitude.

Itachi and Tobi

Seeing as how he loves dango so much, Itachi decides to make several dozen sticks of the tri-colored sweet rice dumplings. He keeps the pink dumpling the common strawberry flavor, and the white plain, but he does something special with the green ball, flavoring it with vanilla extract and green tea. Because Tobi is a nightmare in the kitchen (and because he needs supervision when it comes to sweets), Itachi allows him to help, mainly in the form of sticking the dumplings neatly on the stick once they’re shaped. He’s a good helper, except for when Itachi takes his eyes off of him, as he likes to add icing, sprinkles, and a variety of decadent extras that don’t belong on this simple dessert. And it’s a good thing that Itachi makes so many, seeing as they BOTH sneak and eat quite a few when the other is distracted. Tobi is very helpful when it comes to pushing their wares, as his carefree, childlike demeanor attracts customers to their table.

Hidan

Hidan wants something that’s visually representative of him, so what does he make? Red velvet cake bars. The outside is covered with a white-silver frosting, but when you cut into it, the deep red of the cake greatly resembles blood. Hidan isn’t the best at baking (or cooking in general) so he asks Konan to help him when she’s not occupied with her own dish. He’s surprisingly calm and conscientious in the kitchen, keeping his swearing to a minimum and being extra-careful with measuring out ingredients and waiting on the oven to do its thing. He borrows Kisame’s Kiss The Cook apron, only he crosses out the second O and replaces it with a C. His bars come out slightly uneven but really good nonetheless. However, being Hidan, he can’t resist throwing in a prank; he saves some of the cake batter and holds it in his mouth, then, after taking a bite of someone else’s fare, claims that it’s poisoned and spits “blood” out of his mouth, which freaks out their early customers until Kakuzu catches him and exiles him back inside.