#vanilla extract took a few hours to take off

[icharchivist]

being too terminally online on this website has a lot of downsides, but what isn’t one is when you see a joke being pretty funny, and then, at some point, either hours or years later, you see a joke about this joke, and then closely afterward another one, and then it takes like one hour for this joke to suddenly become Tumblr Big Meme, and because you were online the entire time you saw how it went from normal joke to website-wide joke and it’s hysterical. I love it here.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 32)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (30)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN’s back hit the wall as she expelled several gasping breaths, the wave of relief flooding over her indicative of just how scared she was. Still, it was a surprise.

Lucy’s big green eyes behind her clear framed lenses were filled with worry. She crossed the room in a matter of steps, pulling the shower door open to see her little Australian backed into the corner of the shower with wide eyes, holding her toothbrush up like it would protect her somehow. It would have been comical if it weren’t for the fear.

“Little one..”

“L…Luce? What are you-”

She was cut off by Lucy enveloping her, her arms wrapping around her and pulling her head to rest on her favourite place, the little area where Lucy’s collarbone met her neck. Vanilla and bitter orange. Lucy was there and everything was okay. Lucy felt her grabbing at her clothes tightly, not wanting to let the footballer go and her heart broke feeling her body shaking.

“I didn’t mean to scare you… I didn’t think you’d be awake still,” she said softly into her hair.

“I thought it was…someone else.”

Now Lucy was even more worried. She pulled back just enough to look at her. “Who?”

“S..some photographer from the game in Crawley. He was taking photos and then he followed me here..”

Lucy saw red. She pulled away and began turning when YFN caught her. She looked back at her pleading eyes.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Just when Lucy thought her heart couldn’t break any more. She touched her cheek with her fingertips softly. “I need to make sure you’re safe. I’ll be a few minutes… stay here please, little one.”

Lucy was quick to check around the apartment, and outside. She’d noticed an idling car outside when she’d arrived in her uber, though it was now gone. She came back inside and locked the door as she found YFN exactly where she’d left her.

She leant up against the frame of the shower and looked at the woman who’d been the only thing on her mind for the past week. “It’s just us.”

She breathed another sigh of relief, still comfortable with her back in the corner and Lucy could sense the thoughts of her dad running through her mind. She tried to distract her.

“Is that my toothbrush?” She asked.

YFN looked down at the little blue toothbrush in her hand, not realising she was still gripping it tightly.

“Yes.. but I wasn’t using it..” She explained. “I just missed you.”

Lucy shook her head as if it would rid her of the amount of feelings she had for the women in front of her. God, the amount of love she had for her. It was a tingly, vulnerable, excitable feeling. One that always left her feeling simultaneously scared of its power and so happy she knew she’d do anything for her. This was that poetry love.

Lucy took a step forward and gently extracted the toothbrush from her hand and placed it back where it belonged. She returned and stood so close to her girlfriend that their bodies were touching in multiple places, and YFN had to look up to hold eye contact with her.

“We need to talk.” YFN whispered a little nervously, though Lucy didn’t know whether it was from the impending talk or their proximity.

“Yes, we do. But first.. let me make you a hot chocolate and get you calmed down, okay?”

She phrased it like a question when it wasn’t. Without waiting for a reply, she bent down and picked up her little Australian who almost gladly wrapped her legs around Lucy’s waist like a koala. She held her tightly as she walked them out to the living area and headed for the couch. YFN’s grip around Lucy tightened.

“I want to go where you go.”

She paused and stroked her back, diverting them to the kitchen where she placed her on the kitchen island. YFN couldn’t keep her eyes off of her, still unable to believe she was there with her. Wasn’t she just in Spain at a game five hours ago? Lucy looked tired from her day, her game, her flight. Her hair was in its typical messy bun after the game though she was now in track pants, slides with socks and a simple salmon colour shirt that she hadn’t seen before. As she turned around and opened the fridge, she couldn’t help but look at just how good her ass look in those pants.

Lucy groaned as she realised that – of course – there was no milk. She closed it and turned around to YFN who was staring at her as if waiting for her to realise, her lips pressed together holding a smile at bay but her dimples giving her away. She held up her phone.

“We can order some?”

Lucy sauntered back over, keeping that heavy eye contact until she was back in between her legs dangling from the edge. She put an arm back down on the counter, her hand finding a place on YFN’s outer thigh as she took her phone. YFN watched as Lucy was distracted ordering their drinks, looking at Lucy’s finer details. They were the things she missed. Her freckles, her Spanish tan, her dark brown hair she loved to dye, her goddamn jawline. She hesitated a second before she reached out and smoothed a few outlying strands of hair with her fingertips. Lucy leant into her touch, still typing on the phone and it were almost as if no time had passed. The natural chemistry between them was undeniable.

“We need to talk.” She said when Lucy was finished, removing her hand unwillingly.

Lucy placed her phone on the bench and turned back to her, finding those eyes again. “Yes, we do. Where’s your overnight bag? I didn’t see it in our bedroom.”

The fact that she said our bedroom didn’t go unnoticed by YFN, nor was it supposed to. She bit her lip.

“It's… in the other room.” She said quietly. Lucy didn’t even try to hide the look of hurt she felt, though she knew better than to question it given what they’d been through the last several days.

Lucy grabbed her knees, pulling her to the edge of the counter and encouraging her legs back around her waist as she picked her up and carried her to the couch where she almost unceremoniously dropped her.

“Stay.” She said, pointing at her. YFN did as she was told, folding her legs and leaning back into the corner of the couch. She watched as Lucy left to the spare room and then returned shortly later carrying her bag and toiletries with purpose to Lucy’s room. YFN smiled at that and bit by bit, her heart felt like it was mending, though she was fully aware that they still hadn’t spoken about the series of unfortunate events.

Lucy came back and kicked off her slides, taking up the opposite corner of the couch just far enough away that they couldn’t touch, even with her outstretched legs.

There was a long pause as they stared at each other with longing and nervousness. YFN decided to break the ice first.

“Hi, Luce.” YFN said softly, pulling a pillow to her chest so she’d feel the need to touch Lucy less.

Lucy smiled at that. “Hi, little one.” Her voice was tired and husky and still managing to make YFN’s heart jump.

“I miss you.”

Lucy let out a long sigh and it sounded almost like relief. “I miss you too.”

“I know I have no right-”

“You have every right.” Lucy cut off. “Every right. We are still together.”

They were still together. That was a good start. “We need to talk..”

Lucy sighed. “Yeah, we do. Can I start please?”

“Okay Luce.”

“Okay… let’s get the main thing out of the way. Ona and I are not together, and we never have been. Never been together, never slept together. She tried to kiss me once before I knew you, but I stopped her. She was drunk and I… wouldn’t have let her do it anyways. She eight years younger than me, little one. She’s going to be my successor as right back at Barca. I helped her move from United, I gave her a place to stay for a few weeks, and she’s been a really good friend to have in the city because I don’t speak much Spanish. I have Keira but… that’s not the same anymore, and it’s good to have other friends. Now, I know Ona likes me, and what I’m about to say is really selfish, okay?” She took a breath and shook her head like she was ashamed of herself. “It was a mutual split between Keira and I, you know that. I told you about us, but still, suddenly being single and alone in a foreign country was hard. We were together for years. And so I let myself enjoy Ona’s attention. It’s horrible, I know, but I did. I teased and flirted but I would never let it go further than that. And all of that stopped when I met you. Most of the photos you were sent are old and the new ones are just us being friends. I promise it’s nothing more than that and will never be.”

There was silence for a few seconds as YFN took this in. It was the best outcome for her, and she felt her heart healing itself a little more. As it did, she felt disappointed in herself. “Thanks for being so honest with me, Luce. I… I’m really sorry with how I handled all of this. I’m… really ashamed of myself.” She got a little teary and had to stop.

“No. Don’t. Please… I saw the photos, and I know what it looks like. I should have had this conversation with you before but everything between us happened so quick and we didn’t have time.. I was going to tell you when you got to Spain.” She paused. “And I don’t fully understand why you needed space, but I do at the same time. I need you to know that you can trust me, okay? Please.. I know it’s a risk for you, but I will never hurt you. I’d never do that. You’re too important to me… and besides, that’s not me. You know me. You’ve met my family, my friends. You know who I am.”

“Yeah..” She admitted, lips trembling. “I do.”

Lucy was right. She had introduced her to her family and friends. She’d let her in so close, how could she have ever believed otherwise?

Lucy continued. “I’m more than happy to limit my interactions with Ona-”

“No.” YFN replied tenaciously, wiping an ashamed tear away. “No, I don’t want you to do that, Luce. I’ll never make you do something like that to a friend.”

“Okay… regardless I’ll have a talk to her. But please.. don’t believe anything you’re sent.” She made sure their eyes had met. “There’s only you, now. You’re what I want.”

She wanted her. God, it felt like a Jane Austen or Shakespeare romance. YFN stretched a leg out and their feet touched like that night under the blankets hiding it from Jordan. Lucy wanted her. She wanted Lucy. Lucy was here.

“Do you still want me?”

YFN looked up from where they were touching, her eyes finding Lucy’s insecure ones. She responded without even needing to think about it. “I’ll always want you, Luce. I thought when you didn’t call that maybe things had changed for you.. but things haven’t changed for me. Not one bit.”

Relief flooded those green eyes. “About that.. I have an explanation for all of this. You see, my phone-”

A knock came at the door and YFN jumped more than she usually did, given the events of the night.

“It’s just the delivery..” Lucy assured and went to collect it. She came back inside and handed YFN her hot chocolate and a brown paper bag before retaking her position on the couch. She nodded to the bag as YFN was opening it.

“Banana bread and coconut bread. I’m assuming you haven’t had a chance to eat tonight like me. Choose one, and I’ll have the other.”

How did she get so lucky? She looked up at her girlfriend with an excited and thankful smile that made Lucy’s pupils dilate a little. “We share?”

“Okay, little one. But no more talking until we’ve finished.”

She broke half of each off and gave them to Lucy on the napkin that was in the bag. They were warm and hit the spot perfectly with the hot chocolate. She knew she’d be ready for bed soon after that.

Lucy finished first, of course. That woman was always hungry. She waited patiently for YFN, sipping on her hot chocolate and her eyes wandering over her like she was making up for lost time.

“Your phone?”

“Was stolen. By Kristie.”

YFN froze. She didn’t expect that. Kristie was in Spain?

“She’s been watching me train and went to my game. She stole my phone and then told security she’d give it back if she could meet me after the game, so I met her because I had no idea it was her until she was right in front of me. She said some nasty things-”

“What things?” YFN cut off. She couldn't help herself.

“That she sent you the photos. That you were using me for a job and a car and a home. That you don’t know me. Then… she gave me an ultimatum. If I wanted my phone back, I’d need to go on a date with her.”

A feeling of disgust, anger and jealousy built within her. She cleared the emotions from her throat.

“And what did you do?”

Lucy looked unapologetic. “I told her to keep my fucking phone. I booked a flight. Cancelled my phone. Told security to ban her and her friends. My new phone will arrive in Spain tomorrow or the next day.”

Her heart melted. Lucy just jumped on an international flight… to see her. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me..” She admitted, knowing that Lucy now held those top two spots, the second being the keychain.

Lucy softened. “You’re more than worth it, my love.”

The lightbulb clicked. “That’s why you didn’t call..”

Lucy nodded. “That’s why I didn’t call. But this needed to be resolved, and I needed to see you, so I asked Alexia if I could leave early so I could pack and feed Narla before my flight.”

“What about training tomorrow?”

“Alexia is letting me start late. I’ll be on the first flight out..”

She looked at the time on the wall. 11:42pm. Lucy was leaving soon.

“Six more days..” Lucy reminded her, noticing where she was looking.

She nodded. Six more days and she’d be in Barcelona with her. Hopefully the next six days would be a lot less dramatic than the previous week.

“Your hand..” She said, looking at the bandage as Lucy took another sip.

“Ah.” She scratched the back of her head a little embarrassed. “I…snapped my iPad in half… when I saw photos of you and Leah.”

That’s right. “Leah is sorting it out, the company posted that because they didn’t know my name.”

“Could have written ‘friend’ instead.” She muttered jealously.

“Is that a little jealousy I hear?” YFN challenged.

Lucy sat up a little straighter. “Yes.” She admitted, forcing herself to accept that insecurity of hers.

YFN put her hot chocolate down and threw her pillow aside, moving along the couch until she was straddling Lucy’s hips. She took Lucy’s cup also and moved it away. She loved that she had the ability to take away Lucy’s capacity to speak. She just stared at her with slightly parted lips, pupils dilating further. She took Lucy’s bandaged hand and held it up to her cheek to appreciate the feel before she turned and kissed the palm. Lucy similarly reached a hand up, her thumb stroking ever so gently over the fading scar cutting YFN’s eyebrow. The complete opposite of the Lucy who had just unapologetically smashed her way through a football game, earning herself a yellow. Their little spell was broken by Lucy’s need to protect her.

“This will be the final piece of evidence needed for the restraining orders. I’ll have them finalised in the next day or so. Promise.”

Lucy’s hands found her hips as YFN’s hands cupped each side of the footballer’s neck.

“Thank you, Luce.”

“Now tell me about the photographer please.”

YFN explained about Mark at the charity event, his comments about Joe, and his photographer at the game. Lucy was angry.

“Who the fuck-”

“I don’t know, Luce.”

“Why the fuck-”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to encourage her to calm a little. “Probably just a little competition. Also, he’s a bit of a misogynist so… there’s that.”

“Don’t be alone around him. I don’t want you alone at stadiums and definitely not in car parks. Make sure someone is always with you. I’ll find out who he is.”

“Okay, my love. Can you do me a favour please?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t push Ona away.” This caught Lucy off guard. “She’s your friend. I refuse to let any of your friendships be affected by me.”

Lucy slowly nodded. “I stopped giving her lifts to training...”

“Start again, please.”

Lucy knew she was right. “Okay,” she agreed. “And if she goes too far, I’ll talk to her.”

“Communication IS key.” She said cheekily.

“Speaking of... is there anything else we need to talk about?”

She thought a little before her cheeks turned a little red. “I..uh..may have asked Joe tonight for a company car.”

“You don’t like Miles?”

She remembered. “Well, I thought…”

Lucy understood, but it didn’t mean she was okay with it. “Cancel it, please. And I need you to accept that what’s mine is yours, okay? I will never regret giving you that keychain. The apartments and the car are yours to use anytime... you know that.”

She did know that. “Okay...” She said. She didn’t like backtracking but knew Joe wouldn’t mind.

“Anything else?”

“Dory’s going to go on a date with Leah.”

“Oh?!”

“I had a good chat to Leah at the event... she actually gave me some great advice about you, Luce... also she really loves Jordan. I spoke to her and she’s willing to let her talk so perhaps it’s less of a date and more of a ceasefire...”

“Leah’s my Captain but if she hurts her…”

“Oh – I sort of already threatened her, so that part is covered.”

Lucy was taken aback and grinned. There was nothing threatening about YFN besides her intelligence and sense of humour. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She bit her lip. “It’s always a nice reminder.”

Lucy’s hand found the back of her head and pulled it towards her so she could gently kiss her way down that scar with kisses so tender, YFN could barely feel them. As she reached the bottom, her lips stayed on her skin and brushed down over her eyelid, her cheek, to find her lips. They kissed then, unable to help themselves any longer. Their hands held each other tightly as their lips moved together, tongues meeting each other with soft caresses. It wasn’t a sexual need, it was more of a slow and longing kiss, remembering what each other felt and tasted like. Lucy tasted like hot chocolate and coconut, her mouth moving exactly in the way YFN remembered.

YFN broke away first to regain her breath while Lucy’s lips trailed down her chin, her jaw, the side of her neck, down to the little oval between her collarbones and back up the other side.

“I missed you so much.” She admitted against her skin.

“I missed you more, Luce.” She almost moaned. “But right now, I need you to get some sleep.”

Lucy agreed, albeit a little grudgingly. They made their way to Lucy’s bathroom where they each took their respective toothbrushes and brushed their teeth. Lucy finally let herself chuckle when she grabbed her blue toothbrush, looking at YFN who scrunched up her nose and blushed. Did she really think she could defend herself with that?

“I need to shower, little one. I didn’t get a chance between the game and now..”

“Ah, I thought I could smell you.”

Lucy groaned and YFN chuckled, kissing her shoulder. “I’m kidding. Your perfume is all I can smell… I have a request before we sleep, though?”

Lucy looked down at her, eyes darkening and assuming. “Anything.”

“I saw you bully your way through that game, Luce. Your knee looks sore. Can I massage it before bed, please?”

Ah, she was wrong. Probably for the best, they were both incredibly tired but it didn’t stop their ability of both knowing what Lucy thought she was going to ask. “I’d like that..”

“Okay.” She kissed her shoulder again, with more lingering lips. “I’ll bring your clothes in.”

YFN left and found Lucy’s overnight bag dumped in the corner of the bedroom. She must have done that as she was scrambling to find YFN when she’d arrived. She got out her clothes for the night, her shirt, underwear, and shorts. Walking back into the bathroom, she was greeted with the sight of a gloriously naked Lucy Bronze under running water in the shower. She couldn’t help but freeze, and stare. Her body was just a collection of well-earned, bronze muscles from her calves to those thighs that stretched her shorts, her tight abs and V-line, those biceps she loved to hang onto, triceps, traps and lats that you could always see even with a shirt on. Lucy looked up from the soap she was lathering across her and grinned. YFN knew she couldn’t see clearly without her glasses, but she could still see her staring.

She bit her lip and blushed before finding some moisturiser in the bathroom cupboard, knowing that she needed to distract herself to stop her staring. She tried to not look at her after that and it was just a whole bunch of awkward.

“I…uh.. your clothes are right here. I’ll be in there.” She pointed out the door and heard Lucy’s chuckles as she left the room.

Not too long later the shower shut off and Lucy joined her in the bedroom, bringing a cloud of steam with her. To be honest, YFN didn’t know how Lucy wasn’t always followed with a cloud of steam, being as goddamned attractive as she was.

Lucy settled onto her regular side of the bed and leant up against the headboard. With the amount of tension, it would just take one of them to break and start ripping the other’s clothes off, however they both managed to restrain themselves. Tonight wasn’t about sex. Tonight was about love. Their relationship.

YFN worked Lucy’s sore leg just the way she liked and needed it. It was aggravated from the game and needed some release. Lucy groaned and her head leant back against the headboard, eyes closing. Even she didn’t realise how much she needed it. Only when YFN could feel Lucy’s leg start to ease up and become a little happier, did she finally stop.

The two were beyond tired and both climbed under the covers together, naturally taking up their positions wrapped around one another. Lucy gave her a long, lingering kiss on her forehead where her scar was as their body’s relaxed into each other.

“Luce?” YFN asked with a tired yawn.

“Little one?”

“I’m sorry about the airport…”

“It’s okay, love. I said it too soon. I won’t say it again until you’re ready, if you’d like?”

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “No, I really like it when you say it. I… it makes me feel loved.”

Lucy gave a happy hum into her ear. “Good. Because I love you, YFN. So much, you have no idea.” Then half-asleep she said, “Besides, I only said it because-”

She cut herself off, realising that her mouth had spoken before her asleep brain could stop her.

“Because what?”

Lucy sighed. Would she even remember the conversation? They were already basically asleep. She could hear it in her voice. “Because you said it first. In your sleep. You told me you loved me and I…I wanted to say it first.”

YFN was awake enough for that. She’d said it first? Really? Then why wasn’t she able to say it out loud?

She put her lips to Lucy’s throat, kissing that tender spot. “Thank you for telling me, Luce. I’ll get there soon… I’m not sure how long it’ll take but-”

“It’ll take as long as it takes, my love. I know how you feel about me. You tell me a lot when you sleep, anyways.”

YFN blushed and Lucy must have felt it because she chuckled.

“I already miss you.”

“Six days, little one. Come to me in six days.”

[captainpulisic]

i hate accidents! - c. pulisic

happy 25th birthday to my number one boy. again, this is for my girlies who go against gender norms and can’t cook!

gif credits to owner , wc: 1.8 k

flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter, you kept repeating the ingredients to yourself, making sure you had enough of each one. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. oh- and cocoa powder. don’t forget the cocoa powder.

“oh, y/n.” your best friend leaned against her refrigerator, looking at you with weary eyes. she half heartedly gestured at the mess of ingredients you had laid across her kitchen counters. “why are you even doing this?”

her roomate chimed in from the next room where she was watching some movie, “yeah, we know cooking isn’t exactly your expertise.”

of course, they knew. everyone knew. you were self aware, you knew it better than anyone else. but this wasn’t cooking. it was baking. it was baking a birthday cake for christian so maybe this would prove easier than cooking?

you were going to bake it with love and whatever other bullshit people said, so this had to come out right, right?

“you know what you should do?” your friend was suddenly very serious. she took a step closer to you and fake whispered, “go get a store-bought cake that comes all prettily decorated. you just put it on a plate at home, put some candles and ta-da! it’s a beautiful homemade cake you made.”

you deadpanned, “are you being serious right now?”

“of course,” she waved you off. “i’ve done it plenty of times, people always fall for it.”

taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and point towards the door. “get out.”

“but this is my kitchen!” she half laughs, half protest.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head as you push her out of the room. giving her one last grateful smile as you shut the door, “and I really do appreciate you letting me borrow it but I seriously need to focus on this.”

yes, you had to find refuge in a different kitchen, no longer allowed in your own. after another cooking disaster, christian and yourself (mostly him) decided it was best to keep your time in the kitchen to a minimum.

“there’s only so many pots in the country,” he had teased as he tried scraping off the char. what? no one had told you making pancakes could be so hard!

it worked better for you, anyway. away from his prying eyes, you’d had free reign to practice all week long. you’re sure he’s grown suspicious of why you left every day for a few hours and came back smelling like you’d bathed in a tub of vanilla extract (you had spilled some on your clothes too many times to count). just yesterday, he had stopped you in the hallway and wiped some flour from your hair. when you saw him give you a curious glance, you leaned in to kiss him and led him straight to your bedroom. predictably, no questions had been asked after that.

with his strict diet and tough self discipline, christian didn’t indulge in sweets as often as would like. he stuck through rigorous training and healthy eating habits expected of him. his birthday cake was one of the few times of the year he let himself enjoy a sugary overload. therefore, you knew you couldn’t fuck this up for him. you had spent weeks scouring the internet for recipes and consulting with his mom on baking tips.

since his birthday fell on a monday this year, you’d planned to go out and celebrate with friends on the weekend. today was reserved for just the both of you. while he had a few hours of training, you were going to take advantage of the time to overcome the impossible and successfully bake an edible cake.

well, I have to start at some point, you chewed on your cheek. triple checking you had all the correct ingredients and measuring cups, your nerves got the best of you as you figured it was time to start.

you had settled on a simple chocolate cake- well the recipe seemed simple enough- and knowing of christians love for chocolate. hell bent on succeeding, you followed the instructions exactly as they were written and measured everything to the exact tablespoon.

all was going smoothly until it was time to add the designated two cups of sugar into the growing mixture. you hadn’t noticed you’d used up all your sugar during your trial runs. the recipe said not to stop stirring the batter, in fear that it would mess up the consistency. thus, you absentmindedly ventured into the cupboards in search of any sugar.

keeping your attention on stirring the batter, you reached for the unlabeled container of white grains?

aha! sugar!

once the batter was finished, you slathered the pan with butter and stuck it in the oven. moving onto making the chocolate buttercream frosting, you sprinkled more sugar from the container into it.

all too soon, the oven beeped and you rushed to take it out. surprisingly, it looked soft and spongy and like an actual, real cake. now more excited than ever, you covered it in the chocolate icing, trying to make it look as pretty as you could.

(the self restraint you had to not dip your finger into the bowl should be studied, truly.)

after thank yous and goodbyes and congratulations that you created something edible were said, you rushed back home in hopes of beating christian. making sure the house was still empty, you carefully take the cake out of the container and arrange it prettily on the counter. sticking a few candles into it, all there is left to do is wait for the birthday boy to come home.

soon enough, you hear the front door open and his footsteps advancing. he’s always had the knack of looking for you, of easily finding you. before you know it, his hands are on your hips and you feel soft lip brushes on your neck. it’s barely a mummer, “hey, you.”

“hey, birthday boy.” you turn around to face him. you cup his face, as he looks down at you fondly. his lovesick smile mirrors yours. it’s useless finding the urge to kiss him silly, thus you satiate yourself. rising to your tiptoes, your hands find themselves combing through his hair as your lips meet his. pulling away after a few moments, you can’t help but laugh when you see him try to follow you. you settle with leaving a trail of kisses all over his face and working your way down to his neck.

hearing him let out a content sigh, you find yourself settling your arms around his waist. mumbling into the crook of his neck, “you’re old.”

when he pouts and argues that he’s young, you retaliate and insist he’s reached grandpa status. this causes him to prove to you how young he is, by chasing you throughout the house. passing hallways and turning corners, the chase leads you both to the kitchen. where low and behold, a pretty chocolate cake sits with candles sticking out of it.

“oh,” upon seeing it, christian stops dead in his tracks. marveling at it, you see his eyes light up and he has the biggest grin on his face. stepping closer to inspect it, “is it from that new place down the street?”

that ‘new place’ was a bakery that had just opened up a few weeks ago. it’s a cozy, picture-perfect bakery that had cakes and pastries lined up along their windows. it’s the type of place where you’d have been able to get a professionally-made chocolate cake guaranteed to taste heavenly.

“uh, no.” you gave him a sheepish grin. feeling very shy, you’re beginning to regret even doing this. you’d been so happy about not fucking up the baking, you hadn’t considered how, maybe, christian would want a big, 5 star cake. you were just so proud of what you’d done! you hate to admit it but you had put love and all that bullshit into it. but, maybe, he did want a cake from an actual bakery. cheeks warming, “I actually made it.”

“y/n,” he whispers. it shouldn’t be physically possible but his smile got even bigger. he looked so handsome. reaching for your hands, he pulls you into his arms. looking down at you with the softest gaze, “you made this? for me?”

all you can do is nod. nerves overtaking your system, “I did, it might not even be that good, i’m sorry it’s not that pretty-”

he shuts you up when he leaves a kiss on each cheek and a few more on your forehead and nose. cupping your face, his thumb begins to stroke your cheek. you feel slightly silly over how fast you lean into his touch.

“oh baby, ‘m so proud of you.” his voice is too soft, and the look he’s giving you isn’t helping. your knees feel like jelly. he’s leaving kisses all over your face now, whispering ‘thank yous’ in between. “this is the best thing you could’ve done for me, thank you, my pretty girl.”

feeling the worry lift from your shoulders, you sigh in relief. solemnly nodding, “I was really careful, so it should taste decent.”

“I bet it’ll taste as great as it looks,” he dips down to leave a kiss on the corner of your mouth. that's when you see that particular glint in his eye. he goes in for another kiss, a deeper one. when he pulls away, the bastard bites your lip. there’s a teasing smile, “but I know it won't taste as sweet as you do.”

later that night, after dinner and gifts and intimate celebrating, you find yourselves seated at the counter.

yes, maybe it tasted like cardboard and the icing had a salty taste instead of sweet one (was the unlabeled container full of salt or sugar? you’re not that sure anymore.)

yes, maybe you both tried swallowing it and smiling through the torture your tastebuds were going through.

yes, maybe you lightly slapped his chest when he told you he felt bad for you guys’ future children. they’re going to think we hate them, he wheezed throughout the laughter.

yes, maybe you both were in hysterics over this bizarre situation and went out to buy a real, edible cake from the nearby bakery. and back home, when you lit a candle on it, you scolded him when he told you what he had wished for. he scooped some icing onto his index finger and smeared it on your cheek. then kissed the other, unaffected cheek. “for every year, to be exactly like this one. I want a salty cake for the rest of my life if it means you’re here.”

“hey!” you pouted. getting some icing yourself, you dragged it across his nose and curved it down to his upper lip. “the wishes don’t come true if you tell people, you know.”

he pondered this for a second, “well I was going to wish for you to get some cooking lessons but who would bake me a salty cake, huh?”

“haha,” you deadpan. leaving another kiss on his cheek, “you think you’re such a comedian, grandpa.”

i personally love a good birthday sheet cake from the grocery store. feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

The Confectioner’s Tale | Chapter 2

as sweet as blood and chocolate 🩸

(speaking of, new chapter of that coming)

There was a rumor spread about me some time ago. I had no idea as to when it had manifested or when it came into fruition, but somehow I had gotten word that the kids down the street were saying that I made cupcakes out of human flesh and blood. At first, my colleagues and I had laughed it off, and I believed it to be because we served cupcakes at Halloween with a cherry red glaze over the top so as to resemble to blood: we also had cakes with decorations in the shape of human fingers and eyeballs. I figured that it was simply Halloween fun from the neighborhood children: I was a kid in northern Nevada, and Halloween was a huge deal in Carson City, and so, I knew it all too well.

Then the health department showed up.

The memory of being questioned by the health inspector and having my pantry looked at down to every last molecule of flour and sugar had been etched in my memory from thence forth. I was still wary of keeping red food coloring in the pantry near the decoration tools because I knew that it could be mistaken as blood.

I had considered myself as a kitchen witch of sorts, what with my long dark bushy hair down to my waist and my brown eyes in contrast with my pale olive-toned skin. I had been to Cyprus and Israel, the latter of which a few times to say in the least. I was all too familiar with Canada and Britain. I was an artist on top of being elbow-deep in pastry and bread doughs.

But I knew in my heart of hearts that one of these days, I was going to have to find my out of Los Angeles and mosey on up to Reno again.

What you see as somewhat above you, you watch with eyes that burn like cigarettes no matter what the context.

I had the bricks of cream cheese out on the counter next to me and the mixer, as well as the sour cream, half a stick of butter, six eggs, and the jar of vanilla extract. I had already crafted out the graham cracker crust and had put it in the fridge for chilling for about twenty minutes.

Chill for twenty, bake for twenty-five, as my boss had advised me on the first time around. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about those two boys as I began work on that lush New York cheesecake: it was going to take longer than the Bailey’s cake given it had to sit in the fridge and chill for a whole day once I had finished it, which meant Alex wasn’t going to get his slice until the morning hours at the very least. I hoped that he would understand, and I hoped that he would still be there come the morning as well.

Boiling water in the roasting pan where the springform pan would be set within, and I hoped that the cake would set.

I had only made all of three New York style cheesecakes before then, the first of which was at home, and thus, I was a bit nervous to start with.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I found rather interesting that I had gotten a Jewish boy as well as another guy from New York, and there I was crafting out a state dessert complete with a small grouping of fresh raspberries on top.

Once time was up, I opened the oven door and checked on the cake, nestled inside of the shiny springform pan and the steaming water bath.

An ever so slight wobble in the middle was all I needed.

My heart skipped a beat when I knew it was just right, and I took the smooth pale yellow disk right out of the heat with my red silicone oven mitts. I perched the cake on the wire rack next to me for a moment; I then took off the springform, albeit with some care so as to make sure the cake was fully set in place. The latch clicked off and the filling stayed put as it should. I let out a low whistle and tucked it into the top shelf of the pale purple refrigerator, and then I got right to work on that Bailey’s cake for Pete.

There sat a brand new rich black bottle of the liqueur in the back of the pantry, and as I took it out of hiding, I had a flashback to when Ben was in the picture.

They were never that much of heavy drug users, but they did enjoy some drinks and some recklessness every now and again. But Ben had the most nefarious of habits with his smoking. He made it look so cool and yet so repulsive at that same time as he leaned against the brick wall with a cigarette rested on his bow-shaped lips and his long shaggy, bushy hair dangled down over his face. I had only known him via writing and what I had seen from afar, but the thought of the smoke caressing and cutting into his skin, a subtle poison sharper than any knife, only made me nauseous. I may have had my inkling for him, but I had my doubts about kissing him should the opportunity ever make its way to my mind

Maybe it was just my own naïveté in thinking that I could fix him. I often fantasized about getting together with him and we could find a way to get away from those damned things. To clear away the smoke so he could smile and breathe without choking on his own oxygen.

I had my fantasies, about talking to him face to face, about going on a date with him.

They were fantasies until I acted upon them.

I returned to reality as I made the chocolate ganache for the Bailey’s cake.

Unsweetened chocolate with heavy cream and a tablespoon of that smooth liqueur over a bain-marie.

I wondered what those boys were doing across the street as I glimpsed over at the time on the two tiers in the oven. Only five doors separated them, and I knew that the smell of the Bailey’s cake would attract attention amongst themselves once the time came for me. Five doors and five minutes.

I let the ganache set for a second on the stove so it would stay warm for the time being, and I began the buttercream frosting. Oh, what a glorious bitch that was buttercream frosting.

I switched on the mixer to low speed and took another glimpse up to the shelf with the boxes of cake decorations. A part of me wanted to whip out the fake blood again, just to see how they would react across the street. I may have been a baker, but I was a baker who gave a blessing to the kitchens I worked in. 

I had my witchcraft, and they both had the shadows on their eyes and the hair as black as night. A rumor or not, it made sense in the strangest way as the cream manifested itself right before my eyes. I switched off the mixer, and within seconds, the timer went off. I put the mitts back on and took the cake pans out of the oven: the rich dark chocolate batter had risen toward the edges of the fine silver pans in a slight dome shape, and I knew they were done with a mere pat of my fingertip.

I let them cool for a few minutes before I took each of them out of the pans and spread the ganache over the bottom tier. It seemed a bit of a rush as the tiers had to cool all the way, but I figured that it was cool enough in that kitchen that they would temper down enough to work with. Or perhaps not as they steamed once released from the pans.

All the while, I flashed a glimpse over at the refrigerator door, and I thought about that cheesecake. It had to chill before I could do anything to it, and so far, it had only been about an hour.

I was going to have to spill to Alex once I walked on out of there with the Bailey’s cake for Pete.

I cleaned up the kitchen a bit so as to let the tiers cool some more, and I once again had another flashback to Ben. When the rumor that we were using human flesh and blood in our baked goods, and I was supposedly the one responsible for it, I thought about Ben talking about being a twenty-year-old kid and living on Bainbridge Island, far removed from the rest of the world. Chris had said the last thing any kid would ever want to do was knock on Ben’s door for any reason whatsoever, not even if his house was on fire, because Ben would greet them with a double-barrel twelve-gage. I always wondered how much truth there was to that, and if any kid had ever gone to the hospital with a slug of lead embedded in the back of their head.

I was in love with a potential murderer as far as I knew, and I shuddered at the thought.

As I wiped down the counter over the display case with a cloth, I looked on at myself in the reflection of the shiny silvery metal. As silver as the tiny plume in Alex’s hair.

Oh, flesh and blood. The thing that bounded us and the thing that could have done us in more so than the nickname of the “tombstone mile”.

A shadow emerged from behind the glass front door, and I took a glimpse up for a look outside there. A tall, burly man with long wavy hair the color of the Bailey’s cake, smooth skin kissed by the sun, and long lanky arms strode across the street; when he extended his hand out to the door handle, I caught a glimpse of the silver cross on his middle finger.

“Hey!” he greeted me once he stepped inside; he took off his mirrored sunglasses and showed me brilliant blue eyes in sharp contrast of his dark skin.

“Hey!” I returned the favor, albeit with a bit of reluctance as he was just a stranger to me.

“I’m with Alex, who came in here earlier,” he told me as the door closed behind him. He lightly smelled of cologne, beer, and incense, and it helped that he donned a turquoise bracelet on his left wrist. “I’m Chuck.”

“Chuck! I’m Hannah. What can I do for you?”

“I just came to see how you’re doing,” he replied. “He told me about you and the cheesecake you’re making just for him.”

“Aw!” I brought a hand to my chest at that, and I could feel my heart skipping a few beats. This was a first for me, especially after everything that Ben and I had gone through before. I could feel my face growing warm as a result of that.

“And let me guess, you want a slice yourself,” I quipped, to which he shrugged.

“Maybe. I guess I could also check out what else you got given this is a bakery and a rather infamous one at that, as well.”

“The cake has to cool for eight hours,” I told him, “and we’re not that infamous, either.” I flashed him a wink, and he returned the favor with a sly grin. His luminous eyes swept down to my chest and the pendant around my neck for a moment. He squinted at it, and then, like the sun outside of there, his face lit up.

“Oh, that says ‘Soundgarden’! Love those cats.”

“Favorite band in the whole world,” I said with one hand on my hip as if to indicate my pride. “I wrote a string of letters to their bass player Ben.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! Anything come of that?”

And I sighed through my nose. He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I used to like him,” I confessed with a shrug. “I never did get even so much as a ‘boo’ out of him.”

Chuck leaned over the top of the display case and folded his arms over the edge.

“You deserve better,” he assured me in a low voice. “You deserve so much better than to be left in the dark like that.”

I showed him a smile.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” I said.

“I mean it, though!” Chuck insisted. “You deserve to feel something in the midst of everything.” He ran his fingers through his dark waves, to which he craned his neck for a look into the kitchen behind me.

“By the way, what else is baking in here? It smells wonderful.”

“A chocolate cake laced with powdered espresso and Bailey’s,” I replied. “A favorite at St. Paddy’s Day and a special one for a guy who came in before Alex.”

Chuck paused for a second.

“Was it a tall guy? Taller than me? Long jet-black hair and big bright green eyes? Looks like he could either drain you of your blood or kill a man with his bare hands?”

“Yes, actually,” I stammered.

“He and his band are staying right next door to us,” he replied. “We’re on separate tours, but we’re in the same hotel.”

“Oh, my god, really?”

“Yeah! Small world, right?”

“As small as the petits-fours we’ll be making coming up here soon enough,” I quipped. Chuck took a glimpse down to the case before him right then: the glass always got too warm if someone leaned up against it like that, but he seemed to be double-taking on something under the glass.

“What’s this right here?” he asked me with a gesture to the box on the shelf right before me.

“Malassadas,” I replied. “They’re basically Portuguese donuts, covered in cinnamon and sugar. Pretty big over in Hawai’i as well as the Azores, and also me as I’m Portuguese.”

“I’m Mexican and Native American,” he added. “We’re curators of the damned.”

“And I’ll be damned, too,” I cracked, which in turn brought a big chuckle out of him.

“I’ll take one of those, and how long do you think that Bailey’s cake is going to be?”

“I took the tiers out of the oven about ten minutes ago and they have to cook before I could frost and assemble them,” I explained. “So, about… twenty minutes or so.” I paused. “Why?”

“Let me walk you over there once it’s done,” he suggested. “You know. Woman walking across the street in L.A. with a chocolate cake in her arms.”

I squinted my eyes at that. This totally was nothing like Ben, or like Soundgarden for that matter.

“Let me get that malassada for you,” I said to him in a low voice.

[saintsofwarding]

BURIAL

Chapter 5

The next week passed without any more games, and the bride doll didn't move, not even once. Elena sure wasn't about to touch her. She stayed where she was at the head of the table, hands folded on its honey-colored wood surface, as if waiting to be served tea.

The blizzard fell in earnest, and each day the view beyond the windows was a blank, unbroken whiteness, a scrape of sideways snow and howling wind. She was fairly confident no one was getting up the mountain in this, not even lycans; she tried not to think about just how isolated that made her. For her part, Elena did her chores. She kept the house clean, the fires lit; she scrubbed the floors and polished the wood and dusted the ornaments and took inventory of the larder and the kitchen cupboards.

There were spices, she discovered, rare and precious, ones she never thought she'd even see, much less taste. Cinnamon sticks, and golden turmeric, and black peppercorns like insects' eyes. Extract of vanilla, an entire shriveled black pod suspended within its jar of cloudy liquid. When unstoppered it filled the air with the lush scent of flowers growing in some far-off place. Even saffron, worth more than its weight in gold, each thread the red-brown of maple leaves beginning to turn in autumn. In a green-painted cupboard with carved doors and little brass scrollwork hinges, Elena found Lady Beneviento's tea collection. This was truly something to behold, rivaling even the stock of a merchant's caravan. For herself each morning, she used the big, plain jar of black tea, but even that had an orangey perfume. Each sip tasted like summer.

And every night, she woke deep in the darkness to the sound of weeping. It always trailed away the moment she became conscious of it, but sometimes it lingered a few more seconds, and Elena always listened, cheek against the pillow, staring into the dark. It sounded like a little girl, sometimes. Other nights it was a woman, maybe her own age, crying and crying.

She didn't try to find it again. It echoed from somewhere faraway- the basement, perhaps? The place the locked elevator led to? Besides, she didn't want a repeat of her night locked in the tower room, shivering and sick with fear.

But her heart ached each time the weeping went silent. It was worse, somehow, than if it had gone on for hours. At least then the mysterious source of the sound would feel empty, cleaned-out, exorcised of their grief.

Elena remembered nights of smothering her own tears in her palms, crushing her hands over her mouth to keep her father from hearing in the next room. Had he done the same, mere yards away? They'd lived in the same house, eaten the same food from the same table, joked and snipped at one another good-naturedly for so long, but after her mother's death, both of them infected with their own grief, they might have been a thousand miles apart.

It hurt to think about her father. But...maybe, maybe, the shadow had taken the letter to Andrei. It was addressed to him; where else could it have gone? And that meant he was caring for Pa. They could take care of one another. That was what the people in the village did- they took care of each other, helped one another, even in the harshest winters.

That was enough to help her sleep again.

She finished her book from home. She read another. There was no end to books and bookshelves, filled with novels and histories, books of maps, books of theory. Some were written in languages Elena could only guess at; she had to make do with the pictures. Beautiful, mostly- intricate pen-and-ink diagrams of plants and animals, both local and exotic. Others made her stomach churn, anatomical drawings of creatures twisted and dissected, lolling tongues and gaping ribs, viscera and eyes impaled with needles. An eclectic library, the collection of a conspicuous eccentric. Was Lady Beneviento a scholar? She had a small desk off the kitchen. Would Elena find any of her secrets or schemes there? Was that what Miranda wanted her to look for?

To hell with it. What else did she have, anyway? She could tell Mother Miranda about the vanishing children's drawings on the wall. That would go over really well.

So, on the morning of the sixth day, she bit back her trepidation and at last approached the desk.

Ordinary. Pleasant. Honey-colored wood, a brass pen set, a lamp with a green glass shade. A sheaf of papers was shoved under a small pile of books; heart thumping, Elena flipped it open, but it was full of nothing but a few half-finished botanical sketches. She tried the drawers to find them unlocked, but there was nothing in them, either. A dead spider. A sweet wrapper. A dried petal. It left a dark, waxy smear on her hand when she rubbed it between her fingers.

Hsss.

A small, dry sound. Elena looked up. The only other thing in the room was the doll. It still sat in place at the head of the table. It hadn't moved.

"And you better not," she muttered. Maybe there was something on the backs of the drawings? She turned them over one by one. Blank. So much for her bright ideas.

Hsss.

What was that? It sounded somehow familiar, somehow mundane. Elena jerked her head up again, faster, wanting to catch the doll's movements. If it was her making the noise, anyway. Nothing. Staring at the doll, Elena pushed back from the table and approached one slow step at a time, as if sneaking up on a chicken with the intent to catch it.

She realized what the sound was, then. It hit her like a gush of icy water. Silk against silk. Rustling.

The doll?

Nausea rippled through her gut. The room swayed around her. She pressed her hand to her nose; it felt warm, wet. When she brought her hand away, black fluid glistened on her fingers; it seemed to shift and squirm, like maggots, it seemed to stretch and melt and the room around her groaned, wind rising, ghosts howling at the walls-

Someone banged on the door.

Elena shrieked; she whirled, eyes wide. Impact slammed the doors again- someone going at them with both fists. A voice, too, yelling from outside.

"Elena?" it called. "Elena! Are you in there?"

She recognized the voice. She'd heard it laughing, chatting with her friends around the well. Violeta.

She wasn't dead. She was just outside the door.

"...Violeta?" Elena said.

"Elena, you're there! Saints, you have to help me." Another storm of banging; her voice sounded ragged, panicked, raw with terror, audible even over the howl of the blizzard. "They're coming, they're gonna get me- Elena!"

Elena rushed for the doors and grabbed the handle. She pulled, hard, but the wind or something, maybe the hinges were frozen, pushed back against her, holding the doors in place; she grit her teeth and yanked back with all her weight; a slit of white appeared between them, the wind slicing against her face like a knife. A face thrust itself into view, just a slice of it, a wide, terrified hazel eye, a lashing curl of blonde hair.

"Elena," Violeta's voice echoed over the wind. "Let me in!"

"What's chasing you? What is it?" She didn't see anything past her.

"Please let me in, they're coming, now-"

"You have to help me. Push on the doors." The damn wind. "Come on! Violeta, please!"

"They're here! No-" Her voice cut off with a strangled yelp and she was yanked back from the doors as if someone had grabbed her by both shoulders and flung her into the blizzard. Finally, the doors relented; they burst wide, and Elena went stumbling onto the frozen porch.

"Violeta!" she screamed. She searched the blizzard, the line of churned footprints leading away through the snow. "Violeta!"

No. No. No. Her pulse pounded with mingled relief and confusion. She almost went running off, but caught herself. She'd freeze, and if it was lycans, she didn't want to get caught unarmed. She pelted into the house, fumbled her arms into her coat sleeves, tugged a scarf round her neck and thick leather gloves on her hands. She grabbed up her rifle and plunged out into the storm once again, heedless of the open front doors behind her.

Damn the rugs. If Violeta was alive, and something had her, there was no time to waste. She took the steps at a run.

The garden was invisible, buried under snowdrifts, and she could barely tell the difference between land and sky. It was all one big white blur. Snowflakes smacked her in the face. Elena spat them away and yanked her scarf over her mouth and nose, setting her eyes in a hard squint. She could do this. Sometimes the forest got bad, the farm; she'd gotten through hard weather before. She searched the whiteness for any sign of movement, anything besides snow and thrashing tree limbs, spare conifers clinging to the mountain crags above.

Lycans? If it had been monster wolves after Violeta, they hadn't stuck around. They must have dragged her off.

Elena's stomach dropped. The furrow of footprints and churned snow led not into the woods or up the mountain, but straight to the edge of the cliff. Crusts of old stone walls and balconies, the remnants of a crumbled gazebo, even part of an ancient flagstone courtyard clung to the edge, the cliff inexorably crumbling away year by year. Once, this property must have been far larger. Now, the waterfall had eaten it up.

It raged through the blizzard, the sound of it like thunder as Elena stopped at the cliff's edge and, swallowing the remnants of her nausea, looked over.

Impossible. A sheer drop. But- the more she looked, the more she made herself find pockets and folds and ways, she saw the path. So narrow. A switchbacked track winding down the mountainside, sometimes almost vanishing amidst rock crags and exposed roots. And down, down, down, almost past visibility, she glimpsed color fluttering from one of the roots- a scrap of red ribbon. Her breath caught.

Don't be such a coward. She steeled herself and stepped onto the path.

Scree skidded under her boot; she clenched her teeth, heart pounding, then broke into a half-jog, half-skid, scrambling down the switchback and toward the gloom and mist below. The air was wet, filled with icy spray, and soon her hair clung like wet reeds to her cheeks. Another scream rippled through the wind, chased by a ragged howl.

Now that was a lycan. Her pulse kicked up a notch. She reached the ribbon and yanked it from the root, stuffing it in her pocket before unslinging her rifle. Its stock pressed against her shoulder as she swung the weapon back and forth, searching the blizzard for her first glimpse of eyes.

"Violeta!" she yelled. "Where are you?" Her vision trembled, white around the edges. She shook her head hard. "Violeta!"

Another howl joined the first, and another, a chorus of them rising through the storm and up her spine, catching her heart in their claws.

Where are they? It sounded like the lycans were right on top of her. Violeta wasn't screaming anymore.

"Vio-" she started.

The ground shifted under her feet.

Stones crumbled. Her gut swooped. She clawed out for a handhold, for anything to grab onto, but the roots and stones slid from her grip as the path crumbled from beneath her feet, and then she was falling.

The world became white, became scraped black and blur and screaming. She smacked loose stones and briars hard, bounced, rolled head over heels to a grating, skidding halt. She coughed hair out of her mouth, her entire body ablaze with pain. She'd skinned her knees and her face prickled with countless cuts and shards of embedded stone. Groaning, she found her hands and knees and curled over, breath harsh in her lungs.

She forced her head up. The mist swirled behind her; she could see the scar down the cliffside where she'd fallen. She knelt on a rocky riverbank, the river beyond all black water and whitecaps, frigid mist rising from its rapids. The waterfall's river. The base of the falls themselves roared a short distance upstream, a massive churning plume of white water.

Rocks combed the river's surface, sharp as teeth. If she'd fallen onto them-

Don't think about that. You made it. Her rifle lay a few yards off, strap twisted. She pushed herself toward it.

A snarl sliced through the rumble of water.

Elena froze. Her breathing sharpened as acid crept up her throat. The snarl rippled around her, deep and timbrous, sliding from ear to ear. Circling her. She stared one way, the other. Mist swirled. Eyes glimmered green in the darkness.

Stones scattered- the weight of a vast, monstrous body against the riverbank. Gathering its weight. Preparing to lunge.

She pushed herself forward.

Her hand brushed the rifle strap-

And grabbed it.

Her gun was in her hands and she swept it round, cocked and leveled, her eyes wide. The lycan rose from the fog, a massive, hunchbacked form. A pelt of matted gray hair sprouted from its back and shoulders. Human, she thought. Almost. A mouthful of jagged, broken teeth glistened in the light. Its eyes flashed green-gold, black slaver dripping from jaws that looked like they'd grown faster than the skin that covered them, warping its almost-human face out of shape, mangled and misaligned. It perched atop one of the huge boulders alongside the riverbank, staring down at her, starvation in its eyes.

"Stay the fuck back!" Her hands shook, but her finger was calm on the trigger; would she miss? It was so close. It would kill her if she missed.

Its jaws parted. Hot breath plumed into the wind. Tentacles, pink and fleshy as tendons, wriggled from the mats of its mane, writhing over its shoulders.

Elena's gorge rose. Saints forgive me. "I said stay the-"

The lycan leaped. Elena squeezed the trigger. The gunshot lit the riverbank like noon; it kicked her shoulder and sent her stumbling back. Her head slammed a rock and she saw stars, hands limp on the rifle. The lycan shrieked as one eye erupted in a spray of black gore; it clawed at itself but it wasn't stopping, wasn't slowing.

It lunged for her and before she could do more than bring up a hand to fend it off it sank its teeth into the meat of her forearm.

Cold and pressure and tearing. She screamed, agony splintering through her; her vision whited out but she could still feel the lycan ripping at her, shaking its head back and forth like a dog worrying at a rat. She was the rat. Its teeth. In her arm. Poor rabbit never stood a chance- It wrenched its head back and took half of her arm with it. Pinkish bone glistened in the light, and she tasted her own blood in the air as it began to pour from her, to gush over the snow, spurting in heartbeat pulses from a severed ulnar artery. Her screaming was muffled, now, faraway, another person. The snow was black. The lycan smelled the blood. It began to whine. Its claws closed in her coat, tearing the wool. Its next bite would take out her throat.

A hum of power.

A ripple of blue light.

Sparks flickered across the snow.

The piece of rebar sliced through the storm like a javelin, crackling with energy; it impaled the lycan to the rock with a crack and a burst of blood. Behind it, balanced on two river rocks, stood Lord Heisenberg. His hammer was over his shoulder, his hand lifted, still humming with that faint bluish glow.

Elena stared.

"Trying to get away?" he called. The lycan had stopped thrashing; its jaws still snapped, eyes staring dully into space. Heisenberg crooked his fingers. The piece of rebar shot from inside the lycan, and the monster slumped to the ground, already crackling apart into chunks of white crystal. The rebar stopped short and hovered in midair, aimed now for Elena.

"Thought you could cut and run?" Heisenberg went on. He made a tsk-tsk sound and waved his finger. "Naughty, naughty. But Mother sees everything."

He shrugged. "Not bad though, kid. Not bad. I gotta give it to you, you're a tough little bitch if I ever saw one. You almost made it past the warding-saint."

Elena lifted her eyes. The statue stood on one of the boulders, another bestial saint like the ones in the forest. This one held a rusted lantern on a ring. It creaked back and forth in its clawed hands. She turned her eyes back to Lord Heisenberg and thought she might rather have taken her chances with the lycan.

"Wasn't...trying," she whispered. Her body didn't want to obey her. She knew she was going into shock, knew she didn't have long, but it seemed more important than anything to plead her case. "Not trying...to...escape. Trying to...save..."

Her voice faded. She couldn't manage more.

"Excuses, excuses. I admire your chutzpah, I really do," Heisenberg went on. He lifted his hammer from his shoulder. "But you and I both know it's gotta end this way."

A ripple in the wind.

That smell, bitter and floral.

She was there.

A slim figure draped in black. She seemed to part the snow, the flakes never touching her, as if the world did not want to draw too near. Her hands were folded down her front. She had no face. Elena's mind began to melt and run. The woman in black lifted her head, the panels of her veil fluttering in the wind. There should have been the sound of rustling silk, but instead there was only silence.

On his rock, Heisenberg lowered his hammer. His expression was grim.

"Hey," he said, quietly. "Donna."

"Leave."

Her voice was the echo of an echo, a rasp in the wind. Heisenberg's hands tightened on the grip of his hammer.

"Just doing what Mother says," he told her. "But, heh, you know all about that. Don't you?"

The woman in black said nothing more. Another burst of that bittersweetness filled the air; it twined through Elena's head. Golden light glimmered on the edges of her vision. For a moment she almost wanted to laugh. She was floating away. Drifting on the mist. The snow was black and slick beneath her.

Where's the rest of my arm?

Ha, ha, she was 'armless. Get it? Harmless...

You're gonna die here.

Heisenberg grinned, sudden and hard. He tipped his hat. "Message received," he said. "She's all yours. What's left of her, anyway. But you can fix her, can't you? You can fix anything. Well. Almost anything."

Another glimmer of gold, warm as sunlight.

The snowflakes brushed her face. Or was that the touch of cold fingers? She wasn't sure.

Sorry, Pa.

She fell.

***

An empty house. Coals in the grate. The suitcase waited on the table, and in the corner a woman stood. She wore a silk slip, a pair of polished black shoes. Her long brown hair fell loose down her shoulders in slick, ropy mats, hiding her face.

Come closer, Elena.

Creeping ahead on little mouse feet. The room was close, warm. The air smelled like meat, like metal.

Come closer, my darling. I'm home. A grin, beneath the hair. It glistened red in the firelight. Red seeped down from the matching bloody smile of her cut throat. They hung me by my ankles and bled me upside down until I was white and empty and then they drank me up and licked their teeth clean. You're just the same now, just like we all are. Fed to a monster.

Don't be scared.

Look inside.

She didn't want to look. But her hands were already gliding forward, as if on strings, her fingers already on the suitcase latch. It snapped open with a soft click.

Look inside, my darling-

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

***

"I'm so sorry about all that."

Pressure tugged at her arm. She was warm. Dull. Heavy, and yet unfeeling, a great wooden nothing hanging off her eyes. She could see- just a slit, but enough to make out the flicker of a fire in the corner, the rough flagstone floor, the rock walls. Limbs swayed from hooks on the ceiling like a cannibal's larder. She'd been stripped to her slip and her bare skin scraped against a wooden table. Her mouth tasted of herbs and heavy drugs, unfamiliar medicines, chalky and strange. Visions swirled behind her eyes, the remnants of dreams.

A figure sat at the tableside, Elena's arm in their hands. A smeared pale oval. A face? She couldn't focus on any details. Thin white hands gripped her arm, their nails necrotic black, the skin cold as a corpse's. Elena's arm was livid with bruises to the elbow, the flesh mottled black and violet and pulsing with dark veins.

The chunk of flesh torn out by the lycan was back in place, and her caregiver was sewing it on with small, neat stitches, a curved needle dipping in and out of her skin, its flicker and flash hypnotic in the firelight.

As Elena watched, the torn flesh sealed together with a slick crackle, hiding the exposed bone, the snapped tendons. She still couldn't feel her hand.

"We don't mean to," her caregiver whispered. "We never mean to."

She dropped the needle into a kidney dish and took up a soft cloth, soaking it in thin greenish liquid from a bowl. She began to gently wash the stitches, cleaning off the blood rusted to her skin. Elena expected the liquid to be cold, but it was warm as bathwater, soothing any pain and pressure away.

Music played some distance off, fuzzy, as if from a badly tuned radio. A folk tune on fiddle, merry and made for dancing.

Soon her caregiver was done and laid aside the cloth. Elena's arm looked like a doll's limb, motionless and stiff. The stranger waited, lips fluttering as if counting down, then at last took up a long silver instrument. A knitting-needle?

She prodded Elena's hand with it. Elena's fingers twitched.

"Hm," her caregiver murmured. Elena sensed a smile. She was beginning to fade again. Her vision darkened; she sank backwards, gratefully, into unconsciousness.

***

"Please," someone whispered to her, in the dark. "Never run away again."

***

Come find me, Donna!

A little girl, running through the sunlit garden, her black hair flying behind her as she raced through golden birch trees.

Come and find me!

No. It didn't have to be this way. But it always was. She crushed her hands over her eyes. The yellow flowers were all around, clustering against her, roots twining deep into her skin. Deep, deep inside her, like a parasite.

Don't look don't look don't look.

It squirmed in the back of her skull, spasming in time with her heartbeat.

(It's you and me. Always was! Don't deny it. We only need each other, don't we?)

But it was always her hands, always her that felt it. Always her that did it. She took her hands away. She couldn't help it. She never could.

Claudia stood before her grinning, hands full of flowers, torn up by their roots. They dripped not dirt, but blood, bright and raw and gushing to the grass.

"You found me," she said.

Hands over the eyes. It always has to be this way. And when she looked again, as always, the little girl was gone.

***

Elena woke in her narrow bed.

Morning light streamed in through the window. She stared up at the ceiling, feeling each part of her body, and realizing, after a moment, that not only was she not dead, but the fingers on her right arm were noticeably not missing, and could in fact feel the sheets.

And, more insistently, she was ravenously hungry. Her stomach snarled as she took a deep, sudden breath of the cool air, then blinked, and looked around, panic rising.

Her rifle was there. Her clothes. Even the silver key, missing for the past week, was set on her folded skirt like it had never vanished from round her neck. Only her blouse was missing. Little wonder- nothing less than a miracle could get that amount of blood out. Her coat was hung on the wardrobe; massive gashes in the fabric showed where the lycan had grabbed her. Even her shoes were there, set neatly by the bedside. Elena paused, then moved her legs over the side of the bed. Her joints creaked, bones grinding; she winced, but she felt far better than she'd expected. She still tasted traces of medicine.

My arm. She shook it free of her nightgown sleeve and hissed in a breath. While it was bad, a bite-shaped chunk of flesh held in place by rows of tiny black stitches, the skin around them marbled with red irritation, it was...well. Better than it could be. The torn skin had begun to knit together, and the pain was barely more than a bad ache, no worse than when Elena had fallen off the neighbor's ploughhorse as a child. Her head was the same where it had hit the rock, the wound already sealed up. Even her skinned knees were treated.

She turned her hand back and forth in wonder, curling her fingers to her palm, then flexing them again. What kind of medicine had her benefactor used on her, anyway? She'd never heard of the like.

She got to her feet, searching for her shawl. In its place was a dressing-gown. She didn't recognize it. Lush old velvet, bottle-green and balding but exquisite all the same. She hesitated before pulling it on. It's okay. Clearly, someone had left it for her use. Still, she'd never worn anything nearly so nice. Who did it once belong to? Some one-time denizen of these halls, silent, black-haired, and lonely?

The door was unlocked. Elena left her room, limping only a little, and went to the balustrade. Below, the rocking chair creaked back and forth, slowly, stilling as Elena watched. In its seat waited a parcel tied with yellow ribbon.

Elena licked her lips. She glanced around, then made her way down the stairs, gripping onto the railing; she felt more fragile than she'd realized, as if a sudden shock might shatter her whole body like glass. The smell of food emanated from the kitchen, but she only had eyes for the parcel on the chair. There was a card tucked under the ribbon. Elena was written on it in that same elegant script she'd come to recognize.

Inside were clothes. Clearly brand-new, and just as beautifully made as those that had belonged to Violeta. A new blouse, a green skirt, a matching bodice with neat brass buttons, a set of silk stockings and of wool. It all looked to be her size.

Exactly her size. These had been made for her. Elena examined each piece, then turned the card over.

There was more writing on the back.

I hope you're feeling better, it read. I am in the garden.

[grimmpheonix]

Untitled TF Fic about a Kobold Witch and her new Girlfriend.

Well, hi. This may seen really out of place for me but I thought I thought I should post this fic I made here.

Warnings: Bones I guess? Idk. Nothing really happens to warrant anything like this.

Now then, onto the show!

The warm glow of the golden hour illuminated the future which walked through the streets of Urba. She'd recently arrived here after meeting her partner and moving in with her. Aria went deeper into her hoodie as she walked among the bustling streets. She heard the conversations of passersby talking about their friends, their lives, their families...Aria's back had a chill sent through it. She power walked from one side of the street to the other and made it to a quaint little coffee shop just around the bend. Aria always tried to make sure to get her and her partner coffee whenever she had the chance. Even when they started out as a long distance couple, Aria would recommend coffee shops she heard good things about in their area and sent them money to try it for her. They always said they weren't a coffee person, but Aria knew from their mannerisms that they were fueled by pure, unrestricted caffeine and nothing else.

Aria walked into the coffee shop and instantly felt the warm air of the establishment; this caused her to lower her large coat's fluffy hood and reveal her face. She had a distinctive scar across the bridge of her nose. Other than that, she had Rosy Brown skin with such a noticeable rose colored blush. She walked awkwardly to the counter where a large manticore stood at the front desk. The manticore politely greeted the human as she ordered the coffee. In all honesty, she was a huge coffee nerd. She loved seeing others experiment with coffee as not just a beverage, but as an art form where the deep brown of the steaming liquid was a canvas. She'd never done it herself, but she longed to own a coffee shop one day. But as the only human in Urba, it'd be very tough. Aria started to list off her and her partner's orders, trying not to sound too pretentious. The manticore politely listened and, after a few minutes of delay, brought out the two orders. Aria paid for her order and almost immediately dashed out of there. Ordering was a pain for her. She always cared about how people would react if she said the wrong thing or stuttered too much.

She quickly powerwalked through the streets of Urba, seeing all manner of creatures joyously taking in the golden hour. She did not have time for this however, as she needed to get her coffee to her partner, stat. She quickly turned tight corners and ran from street to street, dashing past goblins and dragons on the way to their apartment. It took fifteen minutes flat to get from the coffee shop all the way to her partner's apartment at the other side of town. Aria jokingly thought about running competitively, until remembering her goal. Get the coffee to her partner.

She knocked on the gray door to their apartment. The door creaked open slowly before a big yellow eye with a brown slit for a pupil. It looked her up and down aggressively before Aria finally said, "Alright Orion, it's just me."

Orion slightly chuckled before opening the door fully to reveal the three foot, six and a half inch Kobold. Her scales were a deep purple with bright almost pink highlights. She wore a tank top and some short shorts which looked weirdly long on the tiny lizard girl. Over these, she wore a light yellow robe with embroidered stars along it's exterior. She welcomed her girlfriend into her apartment with a slight chuckle in her voice. "Arie! It's so great seeing you after a long day of alchemy. Please, step inside... *heheh*"

Aria did as the reptile told her to and stepped into the messy apartment. It smelled like a mix of chemicals, old clothing, and...vanilla extract? Trash was thrown about the main room except for a pile of trash, clothing, and other shiny objects in the corner of the room which Orion calls her horde. To the right of this is a small section with shelves loaded with chemicals and elixirs and a big cauldron in the middle, perfect for stirring up potions.

Aria wandered around the room, trying to avoid the trash, before coming to a counter and setting the two, still warm, coffees onto it. Orion's eyes lit up with excitement as she went over to see the coffee. She moved a chair to climb up onto the counter to examine the coffee. "Oh! You brought coffee! I guess I can finally taste that really fancy stuff you like so much, huh?"

Orion said, smirking slightly. "Yep...I-I guess you can now. I got you a Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Affagato stained with a bit of milk and topped off with some powdered sugar." Alia finished her sentence as Orion started violently sipping the coffee. Alia felt a bit embarrassed but continued, "D-Do you like the coffee?" Orion responded with many exclamations about how delicious and sweet the coffee was. Just as quickly as the coffee got there, Orion slurped up the last remaining bit of it before exclaiming, "That was amazing!!! It was so freaking tasty! you!!!"

Alia tried to get Orion to cut down on the applause but it would not cease. Orion paused before looking at Aria's coffee and asking, "Hey! What are you drinkin' ?" Aria picked up her coffee before responding, "Oh nothing, just a dark roast latte with some foam and some white chocolate sprinkled over it...really isn't that special..." Orion objected to that statement before jumping down from the counter as Aria began to drink her latte. "So...do anything fun?" Asked the Kobold, grabbing the ledge of the table to see her girlfriend. Aria sipped her latte before calmly denying. Orion then began to think for a second, which Aria could tell thanks to the sound of her tail slapping the floor which she always did when she thought. A wide grin displayed itself over the snout of the reptile before she exclaimed, "Wanna do some alchemy with me..?"

Aria looked a little confused at the prospect of doing alchemy and probed her about if it would be safe or if she needed to know anything before they tried to do any alchemy. Orion dismissed her concerns and told her that it was really easy once you're "in the groove." Aria questioned her about it but was already being dragged by the surprisingly strong Kobold to the cauldron. "Alright, let me teach you the basics of alchemy, or potion making if you want to use the actual terms." Orion tried to jump up to get to some vital potion ingredients but, being a short little Kobold, couldn't reach them. Aria sighed and grabbed a few of the chemicals before giving them to Orion. She decided to throw out all logic and threw the bottles of chemicals straight into the empty cauldron. Aria was about to ask a question before the cauldron bubbled to life and a swirling green liquid filled it. "Alright, for this I will need most of the stuff from that shelf."

She pointed towards the shelves and Aria grabbed the chemicals and very carefully poured them into the cauldron, which bubbled even more with each ingredient. Eventually, she opened a container that seemed to be filled with vanilla extract and poured it in. Orion looked slightly inquisitive at the sight of the extract and slapped her tail on the floor. As they did this, they talked about their interests and some new trashy shows that they should binge together. They laughed and laughed, and eventually the cauldron changed from a light green to a dark red, which signaled to Orion to start performing some spells.

Orion stood on a stepstool and started to chant some spells at the cauldron, causing it to spin faster and faster before her voice faded and the liquid slowed. "Alrighty! Well done my witch's apprentice," Aria wanted to protest but Orion continued, " but now you've officially made some Manticore Wine!" Aria looked a bit confused but eventually asked, "Is it because the potion is made of all types of different chemicals and stuff?" Orion's eyes lit up and she pointed her clawed finger at her girlfriend, "EXACTLY!"

Orion peered into the cauldron and observed the potion before looking at Aria excitedly, "Well? Aren't you going to drink it? It's only natural for the one who made the potion to take the first sip." Aria wanted to protest on how the potion could be dangerous, but the warm smile of her girlfriend caused her to fill up the empty coffee cup Orion left on the table with the Manticore Wine. She carefully and slowly raised the cup to her lips, fearing what could possibly happen when she drinks the concoction before the potion dripped into her mouth. It tasted nothing like wine, and instead had an overpowering vanilla taste which wasn't very appealing to Aria. She lowered the drink before going to put it on the counter, before something began to change in her.

It started in her legs, losing what little muscle and fat they had, causing Aria to fall to the ground. Orion tried to ask if she was okay, but all that was heard was the creaking of bones which began to break and elongate into something unrecognizable. Her arms and legs began to fill with thin hairs that quickly overtook her entire body except for her face, which is where the worst of it started. Her face began to waste away as she emitted an ear-piercing scream which was only stopped when her lower jaw fell from her face. Orion hid behind the counter and covered her ears, not bearing to look at what happened to her girlfriend, the only person who loved her. Meanwhile, Aria's life flashed before her eyes. Memories of the pain she experienced from her peers, the abuse she dealt with from her parents, and the one person who would listen to her which would lead to her end...or at least that's what she thought. Her skull morphed as shifted from that of a human to that of a deer and two giant antlers started to grow, which is something equally strange happened.

Aria stood up, taller than she was previously, before squishing back down, her flesh slowly returning in some part to her. Maybe too much flesh back in fact, as she seemed to gain a few pounds thanks to this. She was breathing heavily before looking at her hands, which were now hooves which slightly resembled functioning hands. She looked down to see her baggy hoodie which had been slightly torn from the transformation. She looked at herself before a noise caught her attention and she instinctively turned almost instantaneously towards the source.

She saw Orion cowering behind her staff, which she was really to use as a blunt force weapon if necessary. They locked eyes, Aria's now glowing bright green, and they matched each other's breathing. Aria covered what was left of her mouth before somehow saying, "Ori..?"Orion heard this and slightly faltered before Aria continued, "Ori...please...please put the stick down..." Orion shakingly put the staff down, dropping it onto the floor and near her tail if needed. "Ori...I'm...I'm fine...I'm not...dead..." Aria tried to raise her arms, which now had another joint in each, to Orion to show her that she did not mean any harm.

"Arie...what happened..?" Aria did not answer that, as she also did not know the answer, but she did take one step closer to Orion, who shuttered at the movement. She continued until she was right in front of Orion, before holding her arms out for a hug from her. Orion smirked and jumped into her arms, nearly crying in her now extended arms, "Don't do that to me again! Well...do you want to try and find an antidote..?"

Aria did not answer for a few seconds before breathing in and saying, "I...I think I like this better..." They embraced each other for a long while after that...

Another day, another run for coffee. Aria seemed to dash from street to street almost in the blink of an eye before appearing at the coffee shop at the end of the block. She entered, now with a very determined look on her skeletal face. She walked up to the cashier, "Hey sir! Could you get me a- "Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Stained Affagato and a Dark Roast Latte with foam and White Chocolate, right?" Aria was surprised to hear that in response, but nodded in agreement. "You two always order that...you really need to expand your palletes." "We have," Retorted the skeletal figure, "it's just that I make them at home now. We've been experimenting with new recipes."

The Manticore smiled, "I hope that goes well for you." After a few minutes, the coffees were out, Aria continued to dash from block to block, noticing all of the goblins and dragons and ghosts and ghouls who roam the streets of Urba. Aria finally felt glad to be one of them. She arrived at Orion's apartment in record time, knocking on the door. A familiar yellow eye with a brown slit for an iris appeared at the door."

Oh! You brought coffee!"

[funkforbreakfast]

Dear sugar,

All it took was a few slices of key lime pie over break (while in the Florida Keys!) to ruin the months of sugar-purging I had done prior — it is crazy how easily you snuck back into my life. My discipline plummeted as I was quick to grab any sweet snack offered without thinking of the longer term consequences. And the worst thing is you have especially been masking behind chocolate — something I don’t think I can live without anymore.

I have never used sweet potatoes in desserts before; I know they’re really common around Thanksgiving time, but I never allowed myself to see the starch in that light before. However, as my sugar cravings were creeping up, I decided to give in. Sweet potatoes and yams are common substitutes in vegan desserts — add a fudgy thickening agent that can be masked in flavor. I googled “sweet potato brownie recipe” and was on my way to a surprisingly enjoyable dish. 

Sweet Potato Brownies

Prep: 1.5 hours Cook time: 35 min Yields: ~12 servings

Allergens/restrictions

Peanut butter

Gluten

Treenuts

Ingredients:

1 medium-sized sweet potato (approximately 2 cups)

1.5 cups of maple syrup

2 tsp vanilla extract

3 tbsp avocado oil (or olive oil)

1 cup of cocoa powder

½ sea salt (optional, I didn’t add)

2 tsp baking powder

1.5 cups flour (I used unbleached flour, but if you’re gf use oat or another substitute)

½ cup of chopped walnuts

½ cup of semisweet chocolate chips

Note:

You will need a food processor/blender for this recipe!

Methods: 

Preheat the oven to 350° F. Clean sweet potato and place it on a baking sheet unpeeled (unless you are very opinionated on this). Roast for approximately 50-60 minutes until soft to the touch. 

Cut the sweet potato in half and put it into the food processor. Add every ingredient EXCEPT walnuts and chocolate chips into the food processor. Blend until evenly combined. Dry ingredients might get stuck to the side, so use a spatula/spoon to push scrape them into the center when the food processor is OFF. Blend again until combined. 

Take out the food processor blades. Pour in walnuts and chocolate chips and quickly stir (the batter is VERY thick, so it’s ok if you do a bad job).

Grease a 9×9 or 9×13 pan and pour in batter. The batter will not rise, so it is ok if the batter almost reaches the top. 

Bake for 32-36 minutes, or until the center is cooked.

Let cool for 20 minutes (or 10 if you want warm, gooey brownies) and enjoy!

[knox-knocks]

Kiss prompt 16 for Andreil??? Pls

Yesss anon *cracks knuckles* this is my bread and butter

~

Neil knew when he woke up that morning that he would not be going for a run. It was a mix of reasons, really. He could reach into a bag a pull an excuse out and any one would do.

For instance, it was raining outside. The sky through the window was dull and gloomy, and raindrops ran down the glass in tiny streams. If Neil focused, he thought he could hear the quiet roar of thunder over the AC vent whirring above him.

Neil closed his eyes and listened to the rain.

His second excuse was that the blankets were warm, and outside was not. Neil was used to braving the elements, he’s seen worse after all. But after a few years in comfort and a soft, plush university-issued bed and mounds of blankets piled on top because Andrew utterly despised being cold, well. If he had grown used to luxury it was hardly his fault.

The biggest reason though, the one thing that truly tipped the scales in favor of Neil staying in bed, was Andrew’s arms wrapped around his waist.

It wasn’t often that they slept like this. They cuddled, sure. They sometimes piled on top of each other or tangled their limbs or drifted off with Andrew’s front pressed to Neil’s back or vice versa. But it was too common for a nice, casual night to turn into something darker, dripping with memories and past horrors, and neither of them wanted to hurt the other if someone woke in a blind panic.

So they cuddled, and then they slept with a decent inch between their bodies.

But Andrew was practically draped over Neil’s back, which meant that he had already woken up sometime in the night, curled up against Neil, and fell back asleep. And he was asleep, because Neil could feel his deep, even breaths against his back. He must have been truly out, because his breathing was heavy enough to sound closer to a snore. That, and Neil’s t-shirt was wet from where Andrew had his mouth pressed against his shoulder. Neil hid a smile in the comforter and promised not to mention it.

Neil let him sleep for a little longer, keeping still and watching the slow, drizzle of rain turn into a torrential downpour. Andrew’s quiet snores were drowned out by the rain and every few minutes the room seemed to light up with quick flashes of lightning. Neil only moved when he could no longer ignore how much he really needed to pee.

“Neil?” Andrew’s voice was rough and muffled by Neil’s shirt. Neil must have woken him when he shifted.

“Morning,” Neil said, soft enough to not disturb the peace but loud enough to be heard over the rain. Neil wiggled until he was flat on his back and he could turn his head far enough to see Andrew’s face. Andrew’s eyes were still closed. “I need to pee.”

Andrew’s arms tightened around him.

“Andrew.” Neil laughed, quietly.

Seeing that Andrew was going to be no help, Neil gently extricated himself from Andrew’s arms and picked his way through the bedroom. Neil shivered at the cold wood panels under his bare feet and crossed the room as quickly as he could without tripping over anything.

Neil didn’t worry about waking Kevin. He was still asleep and would be for a few more hours. Neil could see his prone form on the bunk across from them, and through the gloom Neil saw that his face was slack and undisturbed. Dead to the world.

When he returned from the bathroom Neil found Andrew curled up in the middle of the bed, the blankets swaddled around him like a giant cocoon. One eye popped open at Neil’s approach.

“It’s raining,” Andrew said.

“Yes,” Neil replied.

They stared at each other for a moment before Andrew opened his cocoon and reached one hand out for Neil to take. Neil gladly accepted his invitation and climbed in bed next to him.

Neil pressed his knees against Andrew’s and tucked his cold feet underneath him. Andrew shuddered and sent him a glare, but Neil met it with a unconcerned smile that he had learned from Renee. Andrew responded by rolling his eyes and pulling Neil closer.

“I was thinking of pancakes and coffee for breakfast,” Neil said. Andrew hummed, eyes closed once again. “I’ll make the pancakes. I’ll put vanilla extract and extra cinnamon sugar.”

Andrew’s face morphed into a tiny scowl.

“I won’t forget the syrup in the batter this time.”

Andrew’s face smoothed. “Later,” he said, and pressed his face into the crook of Neil’s neck. After a moment he tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the underside of Neil’s jaw. Tiny kisses all over.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Neil said, amused.

Andrew shifted just enough to reach Neil’s cheek and left a long, lingering kiss. “I am sleeping,” he said, mouth still pressed against Neil’s jaw. He kissed the spot under his ear.

“Kiss me properly, why don’t you,” Neil said and waited as Andrew rose to the challenge.

It only took a little maneuvering until Neil and Andrew were pressed chest to chest, lips brushing in slow, half-hearted kisses. It was unhurried, lazy and and a little bit sloppy. Neil wasn’t really sure they were kissing so much as breathing the same air, lips moving together again and again and again.

With Andrew’s hands hooked around Neil’s back, and Neil tangling their legs ever further, Neil was pretty sure they were not going anywhere any time soon. Not that he minded. He just kissed Andrew a few marks shy of his lips and pressed even closer.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Favorite Way to End the Day

Summary: It was a hard and frustrating day at work. You come home beyond annoyed and try to take your mind off it, and Arthur, being the dutiful husband, helps you forget.

Warnings: Cursing, smut, the usual stuff I post

Word Count: 2,232

A/N: This was an idea presented by the ever miss lovely @verai-marcel earlier in the summer! I took the opportunity especially to write this due to experiencing a toxic environment at work. I'm sure there are others who have or are experiencing something similar. This is for all my overtired, overworked Arthur stans!

“Ugh,”

The slam of the front door resonated into the open living room before you, vibrating through the worn floorboards. Picture frames on the adjacent walls trembled harshly. In any other manner on any other day, you would have been more careful.

Not today.

The sound of your husband’s footsteps echoed from across the room, his burly frame peeking out from the kitchen. His gaze settled on you as a smile appeared. “Welcome home, beautiful.”

His sweet compliments usually lightened your dull, fatigued mood at the end of a weary day of work. However, you couldn’t even muster up a half-hearted smile, your lips pulled in the same frown retained for the past half hour.

Arthur’s smile melted from his face, replaced with a frown of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

“No,” you huff, kicking your shoes off to the side and padding forward, haphazardly tossing your purse toward the closest end of the couch – where it promptly bounced off and fell open-ended to the ground, spilling its contents. You grumble to yourself, not even bothering to focus your attention on the clean-up.

You pass by Arthur, immediately turning into the kitchen. You’d hoped the chicken you pulled from the freezer last night was at least thawed, unless the universe decided to curse you with yet another thing going wrong today, such as breaking your fridge.

Seems as if some outside force spared you of either still-frozen or halfway rotten chicken. Though you were far from entertaining the idea of cooking, it at least gave you some peace of mind for now.

You hardly noticed Arthur’s presence until he was looming over you, peering around your shoulder to have a full look of your face. “What happened, sweetheart?” he asked.

You sighed heavily. “My boss reamed my ass today,” you grumbled, eyebrows falling heavy. “Over something that wasn’t my fault.”

His frown sitting out of the corner of your eye deepened. “What the hell for? Did ya tell her?”

“’Course I did,” you say, hesitating when you realized it was snippier than you meant. “Still didn’t matter to her. Threatened to write me up, report me to the higher-ups. Guess I’m too incompetent at my job.”

“Now you know that ain’t true,” Arthur responded softly, reaching to tuck away a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

Your eyes fixated on the chicken breasts laid before you, realizing you hadn’t even grabbed any spices or oils. Hell, the damn oven hadn’t even been turned on to heat up. “I know, Arthur,” you mumble, stepping away to remedy the situation. “She just drives me nuts sometimes,” This truly unsettled you so deeply it tore your mind away from something as simple as a chicken dinner. You grit your teeth and move around the kitchen, aimlessly gathering supplies.

It wasn’t until Arthur’s hand rested on your arm did you stop. You blinked and looked up at him. “What?”

With his free hand he reached over, plucking out a bottle of vanilla extract from your busied grasp. “Don’t think we’d need this.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, slamming down the rest of your collection with unnecessary force. “Can’t even season a chicken properly –”

“Hey,”

Arthur’s hands settled on your hips, drawing you out of your self-deprecating rant. He pulls you with such ease, turning your body to face him directly. Your mouth opens in protest, yet fails to escape your throat as your eyes peer into his. A gentle yet serious expression met you, pools of aquatic blue and peridot observed your face, as if staring into your very soul.

Whatever you intended to say dissolved immediately.

“Breathe,” he instructs quietly.

You do so.

“Good,” he nods in approval, his features softening immediately with satisfaction. “We don’t gotta eat chicken, we can order out.”

“But I’d like the distraction,” you argue with a pout. Your current preoccupation helped turn your mind away, but that lingering feeling of frustration still bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

Arthur’s lips pulled into a half-smile. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to yours in a tender kiss which you immediately responded to. He tugged you closer to him, hands moving from your hips to your lower back. Your arms encircled his neck, further falling into this momentary diversion and grateful for it.

After a long moment he pulled back, reaching to gently grasp your chin. The smile remained on his face, half-lidded and quiet. “Does that help?”

You nod to him, finally matching his smile. “A little.”

“A little?” he repeated, feigning a look of surprise. “Guess I gotta keep at it then.”

Before you could speak, his mouth attached to the side of your neck, peppering kisses along your jugular. Rough stubble scratched and tickled, pulling a giggle from you. Though he soon slowed, his lips becoming more languid.

The sudden shift caught you off-guard, though it sparked another emotion deep within. His teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh of your throat. “A-Arthur?” you stutter.

He hummed to you, kissing a lazy trail back to your lips. He broke through your barrier, briefly exploring your mouth with his tongue. Parting himself from you, just mere inches apart, he whispers, “I know a better way to distract you.”

That voice, that tone. The deep, husky reverb he’d only use on certain occasions. Such splendor traveled down your spine and settled in your belly. All prior heavy thoughts vanished, replaced by a growing carnal desire.

You said nothing, pulling him back hungrily. Lips crashed together in heated passion, tongue and teeth and panting breaths. Arthur’s hands found your hips again, lifting you with ease. Within seconds your ass was on the flat surface of what you assumed was the kitchen table. Your wandering thoughts were soon disintegrated when you felt the need of his still clothed erection press in between your legs.

Without hesitation you reached down, palming him through his jeans, earning a low groan. He pulled back from you and smiled, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants and panties. You lifted your hips to aid him, and your bottom half was bare in one fell swoop.

His eyes wandered to your core. His arms looped through your legs and he bent down, savoring the sight of your aching sex up close. “Wet already?” He commented with a slick grin.

You couldn’t even muster a response before he plunged his tongue into your folds. It was clear he was not waiting, and you weren’t particularly opposed to it. He dragged the flat of his tongue against your clit, sending tingles through your body. His name graced your lips in a sweet moan, your fingers curling into his soft, sandy locks.

He continued his oral magic, drawing more pleasure from you as seconds ticked by. Despite his urgency just moments prior, he eased and took his time. Your hips ground into his mouth in vain for more, but he chuckled and smoothed his palm across your inner thigh as if telling you to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself and allowed him to take you to your peak. Embers stoked into a blazing flame sooner than you anticipated, building at nearly blinding speed. Biting your lower lip, you moaned through your teeth, attempting to stave it off for now and just enjoy it.

Arthur’s eyes met yours, giving you just a simple look that you understood. Good girl, was all you needed to completely ease into him. One hand released you to favor slipping inside two fingers, exploring and curling in a well-versed dance.

“Oh, God,” you mewled, your hips shuddering, fighting to keep still. You weren’t far off from completely releasing now, not even attempting to hold back.

It seemed your husband could sense this as well, only increasing his pace, beckoning you toward your peak. A few sweet seconds passed, and you sung out his name as the wave of your orgasm washed over you. He lapped up the evidence, slowing his tongue to lazy strokes, drawing out the last of it before your legs began twitch. You whined from the overstimulation, and then he released you to stand up.

There was a sly look in his eyes. A lopsided grin emphasized by the glittering wetness of your slick coating his lips and chin. Your already racing heart skipped a beat.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” he rumbled, reaching to caress your cheek. “You ready for me?”

You smiled at him, turning your face to gently bite his thumb. “Always ready, babe.”

He chuckled lowly, pulling his thumb to run the pad across the outline of your lips. He took his hand away to favor his jeans, unbuckling and unzipping to pull himself out. You could never get tired of the sight of him, standing at full mast and leaking for you.

Stepping closer, Arthur placed his hands on your hips and aligned himself, sliding his thick shaft against your still soaked center. A soft moan escaped his lips before he finally pushed in, burying himself to the root.

Your body immediately and gratefully accepted him, and you sat up to wrap your arms around his neck. Leaning to his ear, you whispered, “Fuck me, Mr. Morgan.”

As if a tether had broken, Arthur’s hips snapped back and into you without hesitation. Thus began a carnal rutting, he groaned deeply and rested his chin on your shoulder. “God damn,” he grunted. “Do you drive me wild.”

Any answer you had fell dead just before your slightly parted lips. Incoherent whimpers and wanton moans surrounded you both as Arthur took you relentlessly. Warm, calloused palms roved across your lower back, pushing up your shirt to favor your bra. The constricting support loosened suddenly with quick work of his deft fingers. You pulled back briefly to disrobe, leaving you completely bare to him.

His lustful gaze quickly swept over your torso, nearly hypnotized in the sight of your naked flesh. “So damn gorgeous,” he growled without hesitation to his prior pace. Hands finding their way to your chest, he pinched your nipples between his fingers. “Could ravage ya all day, Mrs. Morgan.”

Even from the day you were married, upon hearing his claim on you, stirred far within the corners of your mind. It only stoked the embers of your core into a curling fire. Cords of muscle tensed around his tree trunk of a frame. “Arthur– fuck!”

He’d become well aware of this, from the moment he noted the gleam of unabashed excitement in your eyes from the moments of exchanged vows, to the hours of body worship bestowed upon you the night following. It was his favorite way to tease you, to pull you into a guaranteed release. “That’s right,” he chuckled deeply, voice disjointed by his piledriving. “My girl, always my good girl. Ain’t no one in this world makes my girl feel worthless.”

Mustering up a coherent response was damn near impossible, but his words sunk in. Your voice heightened an octave, nails hooking into the skin of his back. A soft hiss slid off his tongue while simultaneously spurred to buck his hips even stronger into you.

You swore out loud, your body melting within his arms. Your back arched, head tilted to sing your pleasure to the heavens. His name flung from your mouth more times than you cared to count.

And then…

Oh fuck–

He’d somehow snaked his fingers to your center again, fiddling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. You hardly could comprehend the second build of your release, barreling much faster than a bullet train. With a few quick strokes the coil wound deep sprung, manifesting as a scream.

Arthur’s lips were quick to find yours, swallowing the outlet of your pleasure. He dragged his fingertips in conjunction with his thrusts, wringing your orgasm to the last drip, persistent stimulation until you wriggled in his iron clasp. He relented once satisfied.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” he grunted in between heated kisses, moving his hand to grip the edge of the table, providing more leverage for himself. Without another word, he drove himself even faster and harder. It wasn’t much longer until he pressed deep, a guttural growl resonating within his torso as he released his spend within you.

The stillness encircled the two of you, heart hammering within your ears almost deafening as it settled. Arthur’s frame, shaken slightly from his heavy breathing, straightened up but not before fluttering his lips against yours for another kiss, more so a graze. He pulled out of you, carefully to not leave a mess.

While tucking himself back into his jeans, he grabbed a napkin from behind you to help clean you up. Despite your sensitivity, he was gentle with you, and helped you back to your feet. Your legs trembled like jelly and your hand rested on his shoulder for balance.

“Definitely don’t think I’ll be cooking that chicken now,” you fake sighed in annoyance.

Arthur chuckled in response, encircling your waist with his arm. “Takeout it is then,” he brushed his lips along the crown of your head. “Did I at least make you forget about today?”

“Today feels like eons ago now,” you say, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, breaking away from you to grab a Chinese takeout menu from the fridge. “You feelin’ Lo Mein or General Tso’s?”

[90spumkin]

A Dash of Truth

Summary: Reader is a witch but doesn’t want everyone to know, especially Spencer.

A/N: This is a fantasy AU which is a new concept for me. I hope you all like it. Thank you @the-queen-of-moons​ for helping me! Also the amazing graphic is by @spencers-beanbag ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Witch! Reader

Warnings: swearing, details of spell casting, mentions of a case, reader is a little rude at times

Word Count: 1.9K

Paperwork days were most of the time quite except when Derek Morgan had worked for the BAU, there was never a moment of silence. Today however there was a different sound filling the office.

“I swear on everything good and cuddly, if this headache doesn’t go away, I may get one of you badass agents just to shoot me.”

I looked up from my work to make eye contact with my curly haired coworker, Spencer, across our desks. Then a groan brought our attention to the blonde walking towards her ‘bat cave’ holding her head. I looked back towards Spencer who only shrugged and returned to his files. I glanced back towards the way Penelope had gone and hoped she felt better soon.

It wasn’t long till my hopes were crushed. “I swear if I could name this headache, it would be called Luke Alvez.” This exclamation of pain brought out a “Hey!” from Luke himself and giggles from everyone else. Penelope just winced at the loud sounds, finished making her coffee, and made her way back into her office. I contemplated offering her help and sharing my secret before deciding helping a friend was more important.

When I reached the entrance to the dark corner of the building I gave the door a light knock, not wanting to cause Penelope anymore pain. A faint permission to enter was the only sign of life I was given. The room wasn’t filled with the normal luminous light of computer screens. Instead, the human embodiment of sunshine was submerged in darkness.

“Penelope? I brought something that may help?” I kept my voice slightly above a whisper. The poor women turned on her desk lamp and turned to look at me. “Hi buttercup, what do you have for me?” I smiled at her attempt to still be cheery even though she wasn’t feeling quite so cheery herself.

I laid a crystal and a vial on her desk and explained, “This is a clear quartz crystal it helps in healing and pain relief. I also brought you some peppermint oil, apply a small amount to your temples and it should help sooth the headache as well.”

“Oh honey, you are a life saver. I will definitely give this a go! Thank you!” Penelope gave my hand a squeeze and I bent down to give her a gentle hug and a soft kiss to her head. “I hope it helps.”

When I returned to my desk, I found Spencer there leaning against it, waiting for me. I blushed a little when he gave me a smile. I couldn’t help the fact his presence made the butterflies in my stomach erupt.

“Where did you disappear to?” Spencer questioned as I took my seat. I looked towards the way I had just come, “I tried to help Penelope with her headache. I was getting worried.” I looked back at Spencer who was staring at me with a small smile playing on his lips, “Y/n you’re ama- a good friend.” I could feel my blush deepening as I mumbled a “thank you”. With a nod, Spencer returned to his desk.

It wasn’t but a few hours before Penelope was returning the crystal and oil I had given her. She leaned against my desk and asked, “So spill. How’d you know that stuff would work?”” I couldn’t help but to look away from her piercing eyes shyly before replying, “I- I practice modern witchcraft, nothing extreme just charms, crystals, oils, excreta.” I looked back at her before adding, “I don’t really advertise it so please don’t say anything.”

Penelope smiled at me and grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze, “Oh honey, I won’t say a word, but only on one condition.” I gave her a questioning look in which she responded, “You have to teach me your witchy ways.”

Over the course of a few weeks Penelope and I had spent countless hours together after work and between cases. It was mostly nights filled with small castings and gossip. Penelope was a fast learner, so it left plenty of time for the two of us to talk and catch up.

On one particular night we were in the middle of brewing a few healing oils when my phone rung. It was Spencer. Penelope may not be a profiler, but anyone would notice the way my whole body froze up and a smile grew across my face. Penelope giggle and nudged my shoulder reminding me I actually have to answer the phone.

The phone call didn’t last long it was just Spencer letting me know I had left my jacket at my desk and that he put it in his to go bag for safe keeping. Of course, this only excited Penelope and she unleashes a sea of questions: “He totally likes you. Do you like him? Are you going to tell him? You should totally tell him.”

My response to her was simply, “I could never tell him. It would ruin everything.” My best friend gave me a pointed look as she said, “You have to be honest with him, you never know what magic could unfold between the two of you.” I couldn’t help but snort at her choice of words.

The same night as the random phone call from Spencer, there was a Phone call from JJ. We had a case. This case took almost a week to solve, and it was particularly hard. Our prime suspect was good with his words and was constantly trying to lead us in the wrong direction. Lucky for us we have a genius who’s good at solving riddles.

On the way home a thought kept running through my mind: What if I made an oil and cast a truth spell over it. I finally decided I was going to do it and started writing down what I would need: 4 ounces of grape seed or jojoba oil and one ounce of sandalwood oil.

I was missing an ingredient and couldn’t think of what it could be. That’s when someone to my right cleared their throat and said, “One ounce of pure vanilla extract.” When I looked up to see who helped me, I was met with a small smile and a wink from Emily.

As soon as the jet landed, I rushed home only slowing down to tell Spencer goodnight. Luckily, he didn’t ask why I was in a hurry, which I am grateful for.

Once I was home it didn’t take long for me to gather all my ingredients and begin my spell. While swirling the blended oils and extract gently in a clockwise motion I chanted, “Truth be told, no more lies. Now it’s time for honesty. Telling the truth will set you free.” I carefully poured the oil into a bottle, concentrating on not getting any on my skin which would activate it.

The next morning everything seemed fine until I got to work. It wasn’t strange of me to greet my coworkers in the mornings. What was strange was the thing I said after my greetings.

When I walked in I saw Tara first and my greeting to her went something a little like, “Good morning. You look tired.” Tara only laughed and responded with, “Well thanks y/n so do you.”

I was lucky that Tara didn’t take offense, but I didn’t mean to say that. I rushed to Penelope’s office and was blessed to fine Emily there as well. My intensions where to say, “Hi guys. I have a problem.” And then explain but what actually came out was, “Why is it always so fucking dark in here.”

Penelope and Emily both just looked at me and then giggled. Emily however seemed to know why I was saying these out of character things, “Y/n I think you may have gotten some of that truth serum on you.”

My response was, “Well shit.”, while Penelope’s was, “What truth serum? Emily how do you know the witchy ways? Wait you told her and not me?”

I took Penelope’s gasp for breath as a chance to explain what happened. This took a little longer than necessary because every time I would talk about one thing what I really thought would pour out like word vomit. Especially when I started explaining the whole situation with the suspect and why I wanted to do the spell.

When I finally stopped talking the door opened right on cue and Matt stuck his head in to let us know it was five minutes till briefing. He looked a little confused when a panicked looked crossed my face and I said, “Do you not know how to knock.” I instantly apologized and looked to Emily and Penelope for help.

Emily nicely dismissed Matt and turned to me, “We need you on this case since Rossi took personal time. The spell will most likely take 24 hours to run through your system. Until then we’re going to have to come up with a good excuse on why you’re being mean.”

Penelope chuckled when I started to pout, “This isn’t fair. Stupid Rossi, stupid psychopaths.” Emily shook her hand as she led me to what was going to be the longest day of my life.

I had never been more right in my life. The whole time we were on the case every thought that ran through my mind escaped through my lips. I was never one to challenge anything about a profile or standup to local cops who were being pigs. Until now. The team never really got upset just more concerned and any time anyone asked if I was okay my response was always, “No I’m a fucking idiot and can’t do anything right.” And would walk away.

It wasn’t until we had made it back to the BAU that Spencer asked what was going on. “Y/n what has gotten into you? You’ve been acting out of character all day.” It was like Spencer talking to me was all it took for every thought I had about him and my situation to come spilling out.

I told him about the suspect and the spell, I even went into detail about my lessons with Penelope which led to me confessing my feelings because of course I had to say something about that damn phone call. When I realized everything, I had said to him I practically started sprinting away from him, ignoring his calls for to wait.

It wasn’t long after I had gotten home that my phone started to ring. Penelope’s name lit up across the screen and when I answered she instantly began to interrogate me. When I didn’t instantly tell her what happened or what I was thinking, I knew the spell had worn off.

I sighed into the phone the same time there was a knock on the door. I looked through the peep hole and was met with the sight of curly brown hair. All I said to Penelope was “I have to call you back” and hung up while she was still asking questions a mile a minute.

When I opened the door I was greeted with a small smile. Instead of a proper greeting I asked, “Spencer, what are you doing here?” Spencer took a step closer as he said, “I don’t need a truth spell to tell you I love you too, y/n.”

*

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Permanent Taglist: @brooklynxnicole​ @the-queen-of-moons​ @imdefinitelyfloating​ @muffin-cup​ @theintimatewriter​ @averyhotchner​ @spenxerslut​ @spenciegoob​ @april-14-blog​ 

[cookingmywaythroughcarryon]

Cheesecake

I’ve mostly stayed with food from Carry On for this blog, with just a few recipes from Wayward Son. My son asked me to make a cheesecake this week. With the release of Any Way The Wind Blows coming up next week I thought I’d go ahead and make one, as a homage to Wayward Son and the iconic scene at the Des Moines Cheesecake Factory. 

I decided to go with a New York Cheesecake and give the family the choice of toppings--I had cherry, fresh strawberries, raspberries, caramel sauce, and Oreos available for them. 

“Simon points at the plates of cheesecake: “This one’s Outrageous, this one’s Ultimate, and this one’s Extreme.”

“No, this one’s Extreme,” Bunce says, taking a giant bite. “With the Oreos.”

I take a bite of the same piece and cover my mouth. “Oof, thas good.”

“It is the Cheesecake Factory,” Simon says. “Does what it says on the tin.” Baz, Wayward Son, Chapter 16.

This one may not be Outrageous, Ultimate or Extreme but it was most definitely a hit with the family. 

I’m planning more recipes, moving on to Wayward Son more and then hopefully Any Way The Wind Blows--because if it’s Simon Snow related I’m sure Simon is going to talk about food! 

Cheesecake:

Equipment

Nine- or ten-inch Springform pan

Aluminum foil

Large roasting pan

This cheesecake is baked in a water bath. Springform pans can allow water in if they’re not insulated. You can wrap the Springform in a few layers of aluminum foil. I used four layers. Alternatively you can place the springform in a larger cake pan and place that pan in the water bath. I used four layers of aluminum foil as pictured here. 

Ingredients: 

Crust

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

6 tablespoons melted butter

2 tbs sugar

1/8 tsp salt

Filling:

32 oz cream cheese (four 8-oz packages) at room temperature

2 cups sugar

3 tbs all-purpose flour

4 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 tsp fresh lemon zest

3 tsp fresh lemon juice

1/4 tsp salt

6 large eggs

1/2 cup sour cream

Toppings:

fresh berries, cherry pie filling, caramel sauce, Oreos (these are all optional)

Method:

Preheat the oven 375F. Wrap the Springform pan in four layers of aluminum foil. Make sure it covers the entire underside of the pan and have it extend all the way to the top of the pan and crimp the foil over the top of the pan edge. Make sure there are no seams on the bottom. I did each layer individually, one on top of another. 

Butter the inside of the Springform pan.

Make the crust. In a medium bowl combine the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter, sugar and salt. Press the mixture evenly into the Springform pan, along the bottom and up the sides of the pan. 

Bake the crust for 10 minutes and then remove from oven and allow it to cool. Drop the oven temperature to 325F. This is important. 

Make the batter: Use a stand mixer with a paddle attachment. Beat the cream cheese, sugar, salt, and flour together until mixed and smooth. Scrape the bottom and sides of pan to make sure it’s all mixed well. Add the vanilla, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Beat together until they’re just combined then add the eggs one by one, mixing them one by one. Scrape the sides and bottom of bowl to make sure it’s all mixing well. Add the sour cream and mix until smooth. 

Place the cheesecake pan in the roasting dish. Pour the batter into the Springform pan, on top of the crust. Boil about 4 cups of water and pour into the roasting pan around the Springform pan. There should be about an inch of water. 

Bake the cheesecake for 1 hour 30 minutes to 1 hour 45 minutes. (Mine took 1 hour 40 minutes)

It will look firm with a bit of a wobble in the center but not liquid. 

Take the entire pan out of the oven and rest it on a wire rack, allowing the water to cool to room temperature. The cheesecake will continue to cook a bit in this bath as the water cools.

It should be cool in 45 minutes to an hour. Take the Springform pan out of the larger pan. Remove and discard the foil. Cover the Springform with plastic wrap and continue to cool in the refrigerator for anywhere from 6 hours to overnight. 

When ready to serve remove the sides of the Springform pan. Serve the cheesecake from the base of the springform and use any of the toppings of choice. 

You can make this a day ahead of time if you like. 

We each chose a different topping but I didn’t manage to get photos of the pieces the family had, as they ran off and ate their own while I was photographing mine. 

Recipe without the photos

Cheesecake:

Equipment

Nine- or ten-inch Springform pan

Aluminum foil

Large roasting pan

This cheesecake is baked in a water bath. Springform pans can allow water in if they’re not insulated. You can wrap the Springform in a few layers of aluminum foil. I used four layers. Alternatively you can place the springform in a larger cake pan and place that pan in the water bath.

Ingredients:

Crust

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

6 tablespoons melted butter

2 tbs sugar

1/8 tsp salt

Filling:

32 oz cream cheese (four 8-oz packages) at room temperature

2 cups sugar

3 tbs all-purpose flour

4 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 tsp fresh lemon zest

3 tsp fresh lemon juice

1/4 tsp salt

6 large eggs

1/2 cup sour cream

Toppings:

fresh berries, cherry pie filling, caramel sauce, Oreos (these are all optional)

Method:

Preheat the oven 375F. Wrap the Springform pan in four layers of aluminum foil. Make sure it covers the entire underside of the pan and have it extend all the way to the top of the pan and crimp the foil over the top of the pan edge. Make sure there are no seams on the bottom. I did each layer individually, one on top of another.

Butter the inside of the Springform pan.

Make the crust. In a medium bowl combine the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter, sugar and salt. Press the mixture evenly into the Springform pan, along the bottom and up the sides of the pan.

Bake the crust for 10 minutes and then remove from oven and allow it to cool. Drop the oven temperature to 325F. This is important.

Make the batter: Use a stand mixer with a paddle attachment. Beat the cream cheese, sugar, salt, and flour together until mixed and smooth. Scrape the bottom and sides of pan to make sure it’s all mixed well. Add the vanilla, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Beat together until they’re just combined then add the eggs one by one, mixing them one by one. Scrape the sides and bottom of bowl to make sure it’s all mixing well. Add the sour cream and mix until smooth.

Place the cheesecake pan in the roasting dish. Pour the batter into the Springform pan, on top of the crust. Boil about 4 cups of water and pour into the roasting pan around the Springform pan. There should be about an inch of water.

Bake the cheesecake for 1 hour 30 minutes to 1 hour 45 minutes. (Mine took 1 hour 40 minutes)

It will look firm with a bit of a wobble in the center but not liquid.

Take the entire pan out of the oven and rest it on a wire rack, allowing the water to cool to room temperature. The cheesecake will continue to cook a bit in this bath as the water cools.

It should be cool in 45 minutes to an hour. Take the Springform pan out of the larger pan. Remove and discard the foil. Cover the Springform with plastic wrap and continue to cool in the refrigerator for anywhere from 6 hours to overnight.

When ready to serve remove the sides of the Springform pan. Serve the cheesecake from the base of the springform and use any of the toppings of choice.

You can make this a day ahead of time if you like.

[love-takes-work]

Bixbite’s Perfect Pizzas

Here’s how to make pizza from scratch--Bixbite’s way!

Includes veggie pepperoni and a fish made out of banana bread because your chef is a vegetarian

Recipe inspired by pizzas pictured in Steven Universe Future: “Guidance”!

See more SU food tutorials!

I can't chop ingredients instantaneously like Bixbite, but I know how to make a pizza.

There's one thing I will not be doing authentically; that pizza has a big old whole fish on it. I'm vegetarian so I will be including a fish made out of bread.

Pizza dough has to rise so I recommend making the pizza dough first and then making a bread fish during the rise time.

Part One: Recipe for Two Pizzas

I have taught pizza-making on this site before! I'll simply repeat my recipe for Fish Stew Pizza with a few tweaks.

Ingredients:

1 cup warm water, 110º F to 115º F / 43º C to 46º C

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon active dry yeast

¼ cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon salt

2 to 2 ½ cups flour

Get the water ready. Make sure you take the water’s temperature. If it’s not hot enough you could fail to activate the yeast, and if it’s too hot, you’ll kill it.

Pour your sugar into a bowl. Add the warm water and stir it until the sugar dissolves. Then pour in your yeast and stir it up, and leave it alone for about 10 minutes. The yeast will foam and puff up.

Combine your ¼ cup of vegetable oil with your 1 teaspoon of salt and ¾ cup of flour. Once it's mixed, add the yeast and stir until smooth.

It will be sticky. From here add another cup of flour, work that in with the fork, and begin adding more flour in increments of ¼ cup until you have a dough that is the right consistency. You are looking for handleable, non-sticky dough, but it should be very malleable and soft, without becoming crusty.

You’ll need to work that dough for 8 to 10 minutes. Knead it in the bowl until the time is up.

And then you put the bowl in a warm spot and cover it to let it rise. It should take at least 45 minutes to double, but it's fine if you leave it up to 1.5 hours.

This is where you can jump to the bread fish if you like. I will continue explaining how to get through to prepared unbaked crusts here.

Punch the dough down.

You will now divide the dough in two. This recipe makes two pizzas. In this recipe, one with be the fish and veggies pizza and one will be a pepperoni pizza as pictured with Bixbite.

Take your one ball of dough and begin to spread it out on a 12-inch pizza pan.

A really helpful tip for this dough: You should roll the dough out from the middle of the pan using the heels of your hands. Do NOT stretch the dough–it tears. Do not pinch the dough’s bubbles or pick up pieces of it to plug holes. Do not throw it in the air. Little by little, press and roll until it begins to spread out toward the edges of the pan.

You should try to leave a little border for the crust.

Normally, what follows here is pizza sauce, cheese, and toppings. So that's where we stop and move to how to make the fish!

Part Two: Bread Fish

Disclaimer: I do not recommend actually using this as a pizza topping. This is just for fun.

Folks, because it holds its shape well and is moist, we're going with BANANA BREAD for our fish!

Ingredients:

1 1/4 cups sugar

1/2 cup (1 stick) margarine or butter, softened

2 large eggs

1 3/4 cup mashed ripe bananas (4-5 medium bananas)

1/2 cup milk

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

And you'll need a fish-shaped pan! Some of these types of pans are only for jello and aren't made for the oven so be careful to properly investigate which kind of pan you have.

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350° F / 175° C. Put a little oil in your pan and spread evenly. In a large bowl, cream the sugar and butter, mixing together into a rough even mix. Add in the eggs.

Peel the bananas and press into goop with a fork or use an appliance of your choice to whip them. Get just under 2 cups--doesn't have to be an exact science.

Add bananas, milk, lemon juice, and vanilla, and beat until smooth.

Then add flour, baking soda, and salt.

Pour into the pan. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Note: don't fill the pan too full. I was able to make a half dozen banana muffins (baked at 25 minutes) in addition.

When it comes out, cool for 5 minutes in the pan on a rack. Then turn onto the rack to cool fully. It should come out easily if you greased well, but if it's still sticking, try a frosting knife to pry it out.

The fish is ready to be a topping!

Part Three: Dressing the Pizzas

Once you've got your crusts ready, you want to start with pizza sauce and cheese.

Now, Bixbite demonstrates her amazing even cutting technique on a pepperoni pizza. Which means the pepperoni pizza was cooked and prepared first. It's the easy one, so let's do that.

I put pepperoni (in my case, Yves brand vegetarian pepperoni) on the pizza, added more cheese, and topped with more pepperoni! Then I baked it at 350° F / 175° C for about half an hour.

After it came out and cooled a bit, I took a cue from Bixbite and Amethyst's evaluation of her precision cuts and used tools to measure my angles.

Lookit that 'za, brah.

Next is the more complicated one. Let's have a look at what, besides the fish, we are putting on Bixbite's pizza.

Okay! We have a cucumber (weird!), mushrooms, a red pepper, garlic, and a red onion.

I can do that!

But now it will be a bit of a journey to do what Bixbite did.

Right. So...the fish gets sliced in horizontal cuts. Easy enough.

Pepper, onion, cucumber, and mushrooms are easily sliced the way they're portrayed here. I'll do that first. (Cut out and discard center pulp from the red pepper before you use it.)

The garlic's not so simple because you can't just chop the whole thing up into bits like that straight from the bulb. (At least, you shouldn't.) Here's a mini-lesson on preparing fresh garlic:

1. Peel as much of the papery exterior off as you can

2. Pry the individual cloves apart; whack them with the side of your knife if necessary

3. Chop off the tip of each clove and press each under your knife with a couple whacks to loosen the clove skin, and peel

4. Chop garlic into slices, then cubes, then rock your knife over the pieces to mince

Okay! Add all the veggies to the pizza!

Add fish too, lol

Sorry, I'm not gonna actually bake the pizza with bread on it again. We'll have to pretend. Looks delicious after cooking with just the veggies!

And that's how you make a pizza like Bixbite! I hope you enjoyed that!

See more SU food tutorials!

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 4: A Whisk We’re Willing to Take

I think this is turning into a much longer story than I had initially planned... oops. To the anon who sent that lovely ask about the dream they had - this one’s for you! I changed it up just a little bit, but I definitely got the inspiration from you! Also, thank you to everyone who’s been keeping up with this! I appreciate each and every one of you. <3 

In case you missed them, here’s the links to the previous chapters! 

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

 I think we need to talk.

Logan panicked the entire time he and Finn wandered the hallway trying to find someplace quiet to talk, Finn’s words echoing in his head. ‘We need to talk’ was never a good thing.

Especially when he had just almost-kissed someone who wasn’t Finn.

Fuck.

They finally found a secluded corner. Logan was already nervously talking before Finn had even turned around. “Look, Finn–” The redhead’s hand over his mouth prevented him from continuing.

“You like Leo, don’t you?”

Logan refused to look at him and took his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “I… Finn, I’m sorry. Who does this? It’s so messed up, I’m so messed up–”

“Well then I’m messed up, too!”

“What?” He finally looked up, scared of what he might see. But Finn, against all odds, didn’t look mad. Quite the opposite, really.

He looked ecstatic.

“I like him too.”

“What?”

Finn grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ve been researching poly relationships for about a week now.” He suddenly grabbed Logan’s hand in a fierce grip. “And it’s not messed up. We’re allowed to love whoever we want, and screw anyone who thinks otherwise.”

“You never said anything!”

“I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same!”

Logan laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? It’s Leo.”

“Yeah.” Finn said with a dreamy look on his face.

“And to think we could’ve been pining together all this time.” Logan pulled Finn in for a hug, burying his face in the taller boy’s shoulder. “You know, I thought there was going to be a lot more drama involved in this.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, I just thought there’d be a lot more miscommunication or only one of us felt this way or something. I guess I thought this was going to end badly since I started feeling like this.”

“We’ve always been on the same wavelength, Lo. I’m not surprised it’s the same with this.”

Logan’s relief dimmed just a little. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Finn sighed, tightening his grip on the brunet. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How about we test the waters first and see if he might be interested instead of just assuming the worst?”

Logan leaned back to squint at Finn. “Do you mean we should flirt with him on national television?”

“We flirt with each other on national television all the time.”

“I mean that’s true, but it’s not the same and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Finn hummed. “You got any better ideas?”

***

“Today we’ll be working on your baking skills, recruits!” Dorcas cheered, much to everyone’s dismay. “Are you ready to bake some cakes?”

“No.” Logan muttered. He’d tried to make a cake with Celeste for one of the kid’s birthdays one time, and he’d been banned from the kitchen ever since.

“We’ll also be testing your abilities to read recipes, so there will be no demonstration today.” Leo added. “You have two hours to complete this task, and your time starts now!”

“Holy shit!” Finn threw an apron over his neck and frantically began looking for cake pans at his station. “I’ve never made a cake before!”

Logan pre-heated his oven. “I have, and I almost burned the kitchen down.”

Finn cackled, thumbing through the printed recipe. “When was this?”

“Katie’s fourth birthday. We had to call the fire department and everything.”

“Oh, I bet Celeste was so mad.”

“Yeah. Kids thought it was cool, though.”

The two boys started carefully measuring ingredients out: Finn separating his wet and dry ingredients, while Logan kept them all in one bowl.

“Lo, I think you’re doing that wrong.”

Sure enough, Leo had spotted them. “Logan, have you been reading your instructions thoroughly?”

“Yeah.” Logan said absentmindedly, already lost in cornflower-blue eyes.

“So you know that you’re supposed to mix your wet and dry ingredients separately.”

“Yeah, but they’re all going in the same place anyways, so I figured I’d save myself some time.”

“Actually, one of the main points of mixing them separately is to save time.” Finn watched Leo’s eyes light up as he began explaining. “See, when you mix the dry ingredients together and then the wet ingredients, you’ll have very little mixing to do once you combine them. It also helps prevent overmixing your batter. The less you mix the flour, the less the gluten has a chance to develop, so you end up with a fluffier cake.”

Finn kept sneaking glances while he added his ingredients to the stand mixer, watching Leo gesticulate with his hands as he turned the mixer on –

And went straight past the first setting to the sixth.

He shrieked as batter flew everywhere, fumbling with the settings as he tried to turn it off dear god make it stop.

The same hands he’d been watching earlier reached over to brush against his own and switch the mixer off. The silence was startling until it was filled with a laugh.

“General word of advice: start on the lowest power and work your way up.”

Finn turned to see Leo absolutely covered in batter, but still laughing with his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“Got it.” Finn breathed, unable to look away.

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got a little something there.” Logan interrupted, motioning to his face. Instead of waiting for Leo to take care of it he reached up and wiped off the batter himself, letting his finger drag gently across soft skin. Finn’s jaw dropped when Logan put the same finger in his mouth to lick the batter off.

“If it’s any consolation, Finn, your batter tastes good. Too bad it’s all over the kitchen now.”

Leo’s cheeks were so red. “I, uh, I’ve got to – other contestants. Um.” He gave an awkward smile and hurried off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Finn turned to gape at Logan. “Jesus Christ, Lo. Are you trying to kill me?”

Logan sent him a wink and started over on his batter, making sure to mix his wet and dry ingredients separately.

***

Dorcas delicately spit Logan’s cake out onto a napkin after tasting it. “Oh my god, how much vanilla extract did you put in this?”

“I don’t remember? The measuring spoon said Tbsp, I think.”

“Yeah, but the recipe said one teaspoon.”

“Yeah. A Tbsp.”

“No.”

“I mean I can’t taste anything other than vanilla,” Leo said, poking at the cake with his fork. “But the texture is good.”

Logan nodded excitedly. “It should be extra fluffy; I kept my ingredients separate and mixed the batter as little as possible.”

He received a warm smile for that, which was better than any compliment about his cooking.

After a few more contestants were judged, it was Finn’s turn. He watched nervously as Dorcas and Leo cut into it and tried it.

“Finn, this is perfect.”

He blinked. “What?”

“He’s right,” Dorcas said, taking another bite. “It’s light, flavored really well, and the buttercream is perfect. Well done.”

Finn smiled, still confused, but made his way back to his station where Logan gave him a congratulatory fist bump. “Nice one, Fish.”

*** 

Post-Episode Interview

*Dorcas grinning like a maniac while being shown footage from earlier*

Dorcas: The crew and I have termed it “The Batter Incident”. I can’t stop watching it. *she motions to Finn and Logan on the screen* They’re pretty obvious, aren’t they? 

Camera man: How does Leo feel about all of this?

*Dorcas sighs, looking back to the camera*

Dorcas: That’s the question, isn’t it?

*** 

Leo dropped his keys on the island in his apartment, listening to the dial tone on his phone finally stop and his mom’s voice take its place.

“Hi, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you! How was your day?”

He swallowed harshly, letting his head hang. “Hey, mama.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

I did it again. I caught feelings for someone who isn’t available. Except now it isn’t just one person, it's two.

“Nothing,” Leo said, staring out his apartment window at the light-polluted sky. “Just a long day.”

[izumiyagami14]

bake sale

enlightenmonth // [day 21-24] sugar/spice Summary: Hikari is baking for her school’s bake sale and asked Koushiro to help finish before the night is over.

Heavy nonstop knocks on the front door alerted the girl in the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron as she approached the door. As she opened it, in front of her was a red haired boy, out of breath with his arm still up to continue knocking. “Hiya, Koushiro,” Hikari said with a smile and turned back toward the kitchen.

She giggled me and held up a bowl of mixed cookie dough. “There is a huge emergency! I totally forgot about my school bake sale tomorrow! I need an extra set of hands!”

He let out a long sigh and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Are you kidding me? I thought it was serious!”

She gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. “It is serious! If I don’t have any baked goods to sell tomorrow, my kids will not be able to go on that field trip to see the ocean next month!”

Koushiro looked at her with a wide eyed gaze. “And what makes you think I can bake?”

“I don’t know, instincts?” She hummed, shrugging her shoulders. She took a whisk and continued to stir the dough in the bowl.

He trudged over to the kitchen and was in shock. It was an explosion of ingredients spread all over the counters and appliances. Countless bowls of mixtures and batters were ready to be baked into delicious desserts and pretty pastries. He gulped, at a loss of words on how he could solve this situation.

“Don’t just stand there, Koushiro! I really need your help! Start mixing the next ingredients for the brownies!” She gave him no time to think and threw him his own apron. She then started rolling the cookie dough onto the sheet and pouring the batter in the pan.

After hesitating for a minute, he reluctantly put on the apron, tied it around his waist and glanced at the cookbook for the brownie recipe. After mumbling to himself the exact measurements of cocoa powder and vanilla extract, he started precisely measuring.

“What are you doing?” Hikari turned to see Koushiro carefully and slowly poured each ingredient in the measuring cups. He was crouched down to have a closer look and had one eye open to see if it matched the desired measurements.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you bake!”

“The measurements don’t have to be exact, Koushiro!”

“What do you mean? Of course they do! If they are not precise, it won’t turn out right!”

“Oh, nevermind! Switch jobs with me. You prepare and I’ll mix.” She handed him the bowl of batter, shooed him to where she was and scooted past him to change spots in the kitchen. She then started retrieving each ingredient with ease and mixed them in the new bowl.

Koushiro just stood there and watched for a second, wondering why she asked for help when she seemed to doing fine with or without him. He shook his head at his thoughts and started rolling the cookie dough into balls and placing them on the pan.

The two continued to bake all kinds of cookies, brownies and pastries, leaving behind scattered ingredients to put away and dirty dishes to clean. They even took time to add decorations on some cookies. Hikari made cute designs on her batch with ease. Koushiro on the other hand cautiously created designs on his batch, sticking his tongue out as he focused. She couldn’t help but smile at his hard work and dedication to make it look perfect.

When they finally had all the snacks baked and ready to be packaged, Hikari brought a hand to her chin, lost in thought. “What’s on your mind, Hikari?” Koushiro asked.

“I feel like we are missing something. Like one more sweet treat to make. Any ideas?” She asked.

He followed suit, bringing a hand to his chin and thinking long and hard about it. He analyzed the leftover ingredients to decide the next plan of action. “What about daifuku?”

“Daifu-who?”

“Daifuku. You know, a soft, tender, and chewy mochi rice cake enclosed in a creamy, sweet anko red bean paste filling.”

“You think we have everything for that?”

He nodded. “Yes, I think we do.”

She smiled wholeheartedly. “Okay, let’s do it!”

The two worked together on creating their last dessert. Hikari worked on making the filling and Koushiro worked on making the mocha wrapper. When they both had their task done, they started making the daifuku by wrapping the filling in the wrapper. For someone who clumsy baked the last few hours, Koushiro was making twice as many treats as Hikari. She couldn’t help but watch his small smile as he scooped out the filling, placed it on the wrappers and pinched the corners together to create the sweets. She assumed it was some sort of muscle memory.

Once they had all the goodies set up in bags to sell, Hikari made the two of them some celebratory tea. They sat together on each side of the kitchen table with the stack of snacks packed in boxes to take with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Hikari said, mug in hand. She softly blew in her brew before taking another sip.

“My pleasure,” he replied. “I wish you didn’t tell me it was an emergency. I would have come to help anyways.” He whispered that last part, hoping she didn’t hear.

“So, daifuku huh?” She asked, lips on the edge of the mug.

He coughed in his drink, caught off guard. “Yes?”

“How did you know to make that?”

“Uh,” he said, hesitating for a second. He looked down at his mug and rubbed his finger on the side as he thought. Then he chuckled. “I used to make it with my mom years ago. We would make it almost every weekend. I would love take some to school everyday to have in my lunch.” He never talked about his past, but when he mentioned it this time, he had a peaceful smile on his face.

“That’s sweet.” She giggled and reached over and placed her hand on his. He stopped rubbing his mug with his finger when he felt her touch. “I really mean it, Koushiro. I appreciate your help.”

His dark eyes met hers for a second. He held his breath, words wanting to escape his mind but too scared to. Before he could work up the courage to speak, the door handle rattled and a head of fluffy brown hair entered the house.

“Hey, what smells so good?” Taichi exclaimed, peeking his head into the kitchen. “Oh hey, Koushiro!”

Hikari quickly moved her hand away from Koushiro’s. “Hey, Taichi! We just finished baking treats for my bake sale tomorrow!”

“That’s awesome. Mind if I take some? I’m starving!” He asked. Before the two could answer, he snatched a goodie bag from the table and popped a daifuku in his mouth. “Mmm! This is so good! What is this?”

Koushiro kept his eyes at his cup of tea. “It’s daifuku.”

“Daifu-who?” Taichi asked, tilting his head.

Koushiro laughed at his reaction. “Exactly.”

Taichi shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care what it’s called. It’s delicious!” And with that, left the room.

Koushiro nodded to his comment, taking it as a compliment, and looked over at the girl in front of him.

“Will you help me bring it to school tomorrow?” Hikari asked.

“Of course.” He replied, smiling at her.

[yoosungisbabie]

brownies - mystictober day 16

Jumin x mc

rating: G

prompt: {Jumin x MC} / {cooking/baking}

warnings: none♡

word count: 2,599

ao3 link

[my Ko-fi♡]

Jumin helps his fianceé try out a recipe for brownies.

note: this takes place about a month after Jumin's good ending. enjoy!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

She left the chatroom, smiling excitedly about the night ahead. Everyone was coming around to Jumin’s penthouse to finally celebrate their engagement after everything that had happened at the RFA party about a month ago. It was something she’d been looking forward to; she would get to spend some quality time with the people she cherished the most.

“Jumin?” she called out, stretching as she stood from the couch. She’d been tidying up a little when the chatroom flooded with excited messages. She’d decided to take a break, but in the process, she’d lost track of her fiancé.

When there was no answer to his name, she pocketed her phone and started towards the kitchen, not finding him there. She doubled back to his bedroom, finding him sprawled out on the bed, still in his suit, next to Elizabeth the 3rd and breathing slowly. She chuckled quietly, knowing that he’d had a long day at work but finding it so cute that he’d fallen asleep.

The light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over her fiancé, making her sorry to have to disturb him.

“Jumin,” she spoke softly, watching as Elizabeth stood and moved to the edge of the bed, meowing to be pet. She obliged, petting the cat’s head and resting a hand on Jumin’s leg as it dangled off the edge of the bed.

He stirred, letting out a groggy hum and propping himself up on one elbow.

“I’m sorry, I must have dozed off,” he said raspily, reaching over to pet Elizabeth as well. “What time is it?” he asked, rubbing one of his eyes and looking at her expectantly.

“We have about an hour until they arrive,” she told him, watching as he sat up completely and gave her a warm smile.

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t celebrate sooner,” he said, watching as she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Well, all the drama gave us time to go a first date,” she teased, watching his eyes widen a little.

“And a second and third, don’t forget,” he added, smiling when her grin widened. She remembered those days with fondness, knowing that she could never forget them.

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, Elizabeth jumped down from the bed. It reminded her that she still had plans before their guests arrived.

“Jumin, do you want to sleep more?” she asked, turning to watch him shake his head.

“I’d rather not. I’ll be much more tired if I do,” he replied, picking her hand up from off the bed and kissing the back of it. She smiled, watching him lovingly. “Is there anything else that needs to be done before they arrive?” Somehow, she’d known he would ask that question, smiling to herself.

“Yes, if you’re up for it,” she said, watching as his eyebrows furrowed together. He waited for her to explain, kissing her hand once again.

“I was thinking about trying out a recipe for brownies as a little treat for everyone,” she explained, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the recipe she’d printed earlier that day. He tilted his head, glancing at the paper.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the chef prepare something?” he asked, a caring look in his eyes. She’d been doing a lot of tiring RFA party and wedding planning recently, but making some brownies with her fiancé was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“It’ll be fun! Especially if you help me,” she smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of his hand in return. He couldn’t help but smile, letting out a small sigh.

“If you say so,” he retorted playfully, kissing her cheek before she could pull away. It made her giggle as she got up, pulling him along with her.

As they walked to the kitchen, she handed him the recipe.

“If you read off the ingredients, I can grab them from the pantry,” she told him, watching him look them over.

They stepped into the kitchen, and she pranced happily over towards the pantry, already picking up the flour.

“Cocoa powder, granulated sugar-- ah, powdered sugar as well,” he read off. She took the ingredients off the shelf, excited for how wonderful the brownies would taste with the high-quality ingredients Jumin kept his penthouse stocked with.

“Chocolate chips, sea salt, olive oil…” he continued, trailing off. She glanced over at him, seeing his face contorted into a confused expression.

“Some people prefer olive oil compared to butter,” she offered, but he shook his head, looking up at her.

“Not that. Isn’t there a boxed version of this dessert that is much simpler to make?” he asked, and she nodded, remembering off the top of her head that she also needed vanilla extract.

“Yes, but I wanted to try this recipe,” she replied, finding the vanilla and grabbing it. “Homemade treats always taste better. And with your help, it should be a piece of cake!” she said happily, moving the ingredients to the counter. Jumin laughed slightly, looking at her.

“That expression has never been less suited to a situation,” he observed, a playful look in his eyes. She snickered, taking the recipe from his hands and shooting an equally playful glare at him.

“Okay, smart guy. Can you preheat the oven for me?” she asked, taking a good look at the goofy smile on his lips before he turned towards the oven.

“Of course,” he spoke warmly, asking for the temperature as she grabbed some measuring cups.

She began measuring out the dry ingredients, offering to let him do some of it as well. He watched as some powdered sugar flew into the air, putting the bag down and dusting off his hands.

“I’m going to grab the aprons,” he told her, placing a hand on the small of her back as he moved behind her. She smiled when he returned with their matching aprons, already wearing his. They were custom made with Elizabeth the 3rd’s face printed on them. It was always such a joy for her to see him wearing it when he made pancakes for them in the mornings. He looked utterly adorable.

“I always underestimate the enjoyment I get from this apron,” he said, his voice light and giddy. She giggled, pausing her movements as he stood behind her to put her apron on her. “We need more things like this.” She nodded, thinking for a moment.

“I could order a mug with Elizabeth on it,” she said, meeting his enthusiastic gaze when he stepped to her side.

“I would use it every day,” he replied with a smile, making her laugh again.

“You’re adorable,” she spoke softly, watching as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“So you keep telling me,” he teased, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It made her flush slightly, pressing her lips together when he pulled away.

“What’s next?” he asked, moving back to the bowl he’d been putting ingredients in. She couldn’t help the wide smile pressing into her cheeks, a moment going by before she registered what he said.

“Oh, um…” she said, checking the recipe once more. “Will you get two eggs from the fridge?” she asked, watching as he wordlessly moved to the refrigerator and retrieved two eggs. He came back over to her, holding both eggs in one hand out towards her.

“Oh, actually, I’ll let you combine the wet ingredients,” she said, moving a second mixing bowl over to him. She went back to measuring out the cocoa powder, but she noticed after a moment that he hadn’t moved.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to glance at him.

“Nothing,” he said, making her eyes narrow as he moved the bowl closer to himself. He carefully put the eggs down on the counter, opting to measure out the other wet ingredients first.

She continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye, and when he returned to the eggs, his hands hovered over them hesitantly.

“Jumin,” she called lightly, seeing him tense a little. “Have you never cracked an egg before?” she asked, trying not to smile as she stopped her mixing to look at him.

“I’ve observed chefs do it many times, so it shouldn’t be difficult to replicate their results,” he told her, making her press her lips together at his determined look.

He picked up one of the eggs, holding it delicately before moving to crack it against the counter, only to use too much force. The egg was crushed under his hand, and she watched as he furrowed his eyebrows at it.

“Oh,” was all he said, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she grabbed a paper towel to help clean it up.

“I think if you’re more gentle, you’ll be fine,” she spoke after it had been cleared away. He glanced at her dubiously, holding the egg even more delicately before trying again. He lifted it to inspect what he’d done, revealing only a small crack in the shell.

“Now what?” he asked, staring at her intently. She smiled at him.

“Do it once more, still being gentle,” she told him. He did, seeing a bit of egg white beginning to seep from the crack and flipping the egg over so it wouldn’t drip.

“Good job! Now hold it over the bowl,” she started, watching him hold it above the bowl and open the egg, both of them watching the contents drop into it.

“There’s a piece of the shell in the bowl,” he commented, looking to her for guidance again. “Isn’t that undesirable?” She giggled, using a spoon to retrieve the small bit of eggshell.

“That happens to me all the time,” she shrugged, taking the empty eggshell from him and throwing it away.

“I’ll do better with the next one,” he spoke firmly, making her smile once again.

“I’m sure you’ll be an expert egg-cracker in no time,” she replied encouragingly, wiping her hands off and continuing to mix the dry ingredients.

“Thank you for teaching me.” She glanced back as he cracked another egg, watching as he smiled when there was no shell left in the bowl. She congratulated him and then had him whisk it all together.

After that, they combined all the ingredients and poured the batter into the pan. She got as much as she could out of the bowl, spreading the batter evenly as Jumin began gathering the measuring cups to be put in the dishwasher. She thought he wasn’t watching when she lifted the spatula to her mouth to taste the batter, but she was mistaken.

“Sweetheart,” he spoke suddenly, stepping over to her with wide eyes. She looked up at him in surprise.

“The batter has raw egg and flour in it,” he said quickly, searching her eyes incredulously. She couldn’t help but laugh, placing a hand on his arm.

“Jumin, it’s okay,” she chuckled, but he shook his head at her.

“What if you get sick?” he wondered, taking the spatula from her hand gently and placing it in the empty bowl. She smiled up at him, hoping to alleviate some of the worry in his eyes.

“I’ve done that since I was a kid,” she told him, shrugging a little and watching him run a hand through his hair.

“So you’re saying that it’s a miracle that you’re still alive,” he spoke, a teasing lilt hidden under his concern. She scoffed in mock disbelief, turning to pick up the spatula once more.

“You should try it!” she offered, but he shook his head, a smile finally showing on his lips.

“No, I won’t,” he spoke, holding her wrist to keep her from pushing it further towards him.

“Really, it’s good!” she laughed, taking a swipe of batter onto her finger and holding it out to him. He stopped struggling, raising his eyebrows at her skeptically.

“If I’m dead when Zen gets here, you know he’ll laugh,” he spoke quietly, making her snicker as he popped her finger into her mouth. He pulled away, tilting his head and glancing away from her.

“I suppose I can understand why you risk your life,” he smirked, making her roll her eyes.

“I told you!” she exclaimed, moving the dishes over to the sink before he pinched her side playfully.

After putting the pan in the oven and setting a timer, they washed their hands and removed their aprons. When Jumin came back from putting them away, he had an inquisitive look on his face.

“What other things do you enjoy baking?” he wondered, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. She blinked as she thought, humming.

“Cookies, muffins, cupcakes, a few types of bread,” she answered, shrugging. “Why?”

Jumin smiled, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“If you tell me which ingredients you need, you can come over whenever you’d like to bake,” he spoke gently, making her heart swell at his thoughtfulness. “And I could help you.”

It took her a moment to be able to reply, his grey eyes staring so warmly into hers. She couldn’t help the excitement that built in her stomach at the thought of more simple days with Jumin.

“Thank you,” she finally said, watching his smile widen before she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. She was pleasantly surprised to find him blushing slightly when she pulled back, her heart fluttering all over again.

“Jumin, can I tell you something?” she spoke without thinking, seeing his flustered expression become curious.

“Yes, of course,” he said, taking a small step closer to her. She took the opportunity to reach up again, leaning close to his ear.

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling back to watch his warm, loving smile return.

“You’ve told me that before, my love,” he spoke quietly, his hand finding her waist to keep her close. She took his free hand, clutching it tightly.

“I know. I just wanted to remind you,” she shrugged, hearing a small, happy sigh leave him. He pulled her closer, gazing into her eyes intently. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him lean into her, bringing his lips close to her ear like she’d done to him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck. He held her waist gingerly as he pulled back to look at her once more. He then leaned down to kiss her, making her fingertips tingle at the gentleness with which he touched her.

Only a short moment had passed when the doorbell rang, their lips parting reluctantly. They gazed at each other, both taking a few breaths to clear the haze from their minds.

“I’ll get it,” she offered, stepping away from his warm embrace towards the door.

Before she could get very far, his hand found hers, and he pulled her back into his chest to kiss her once more. The gesture made her knees weak, the smell of warm brownies wrapping around them and making her whole body feel light. But he noticed that she always felt that way when she was with him.

Jumin pulled away first, the doorbell ringing once again. The soft tints of pink spreading across her cheeks made him smile; he looked proud of himself for flustering her.

Her steps were reluctant as she moved towards the door to let their guests in. She glanced back at Jumin, any scolding words dying on her lips at the blissful expression on his face.

~~~~~

eee this was one was a lot of fun to write. i hope you all enjoyed!

thank you so much for taking the time to read! <3

[tarlos-spain]

Flufftober Day 8 - Cooking lessons

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Characters: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand.

The birthday cake

Tk wants to learn how to cook a birthday cake for Paul

TK noticed Carlos' breathing over his shoulder, he turned; it made him nervous to have his piercing dark gaze staring at him, but at the same time it made him smile."How am I doing?" TK asked without stopping stirring the dough he was stirring in the huge metal bowl. "You should hit it with more verve or you'll get cut." "More vigorously? What cooking show did you come from, Masterchef?" "I like to cook."Carlos rested his hands on TK's and indicated the rhythm he should take. TK took a deep breath, that looked like the new version of Ghost, only instead of clay, they were working with food.He turned and took advantage of Carlos' proximity to give him a quick kiss on the cheek."Don't get distracted now, I have to work tonight and I want us to finish the cake on time." Carlos said without looking away from the bowl. "It's not absent-mindedness, I gave you a kiss to thank you for being here on your day off, wasting your time, trying to teach me how to cook." "I'm not wasting my time, I'm trying to avoid the next time you try to make me food I run the risk of you poisoning me." "How mean you are, it's not that bad."Carlos reached out to the flour and poured a handful more on the table they were stirring, the remnants left on his fingers, he wiped them over TK's cheeks."Hey, what was that fit about?" "It wasn't a seizure. I just wanted to pay you back for indigestion I got from your spaghetti carbonara the other day." "You said it was good." "Taste-wise, they seemed to be, but they were a bomb for my stomach. Anyway, you know I'd eat anything you made." "Oh no, that means I could kill you at any moment."Carlos took the bowl out of her hands and picked up the blender. He gave it a few turns, during which, the only sound heard in the kitchen was that of the blender's motor.TK circled Carlos' waist and kissed his neck several times. Under the sound of the blender's rods, she heard her boyfriend tell her to stop in between giggles, she was trying to stir from the caresses, but in reality she was barely moving."Come on babe, I don't know how long it's been since the two of us had a Saturday party to be together. You've already managed to convince me to spend it tucked away in the kitchen making Paul's birthday cake. At least let me have some fun my way too." "Sure, but if I let you do it, then we won't finish making the cake and there will be a substantial list of people wanting to kill us for going to birthdays without cake."TK grumbled something under his breath and with a jump sat down at the counter while Carlos continued to count the steps they needed to take to make the cake."The vanilla cream is important because it's what will make the difference between a dry cake and a nice fluffy one." TK stroked her hair and intertwined her fingers between the curly locks that were starting to grow. "You have to put in just the right amount of vanilla extract so the flavor isn't overpowering."TK leaned over him again and kissed him just behind the ear. She heard him sigh and saw him for a second close his eyes."Are you sure you want to make the cake yourself? We could buy it at the bakery two blocks from here and use the rest of the afternoon for ourselves." "I thought we were already doing that." Carlos said without looking up from the bowl he was adding things to. "You know what I mean."When Carlos finally looked up and stared at him, TK swallowed saliva, there were few as exciting to him as the look on Carlos' face when he looked like he was about to tell him off for something.He bit his lip and Carlos didn't miss the gesture with which TK gripped the countertop tightly."Cooking class will be a little long for us, but if you want to see how I finish the cake, in twenty minutes it will be in the oven and that will give us half an hour at least to do whatever we want until it rings." "And then?" smiled TK mischievously. "When it's done, we'll still have about three hours before I have to get ready to go to work." "Are you saying you'll be just for me for three hours?" Carlos nodded. "Why didn't you say so before?" TK took his hands

off Carlos and became serious. "I promise not to do anything until you finish making the cake and put it in the oven. But then you'll have to make it up to me."Carlos leaned closer to TK's ear."I'll more than make it up to you, don't worry. I've got three hours to leave you so exhausted you won't wake up before I get back tomorrow morning."TK stopped paying attention to the cake, he couldn't care less after Carlos' words.