I woke up Monday morning with a sinking feeling in my stomach, the same kind of near-vomit I feel after I get into a terrible fight with someone I love, a fight where we both got a little unhinged and said things we didn’t mean at all. Things we never would’ve said had we been in our right minds. Except I didn’t get into a fight with anyone Sunday night. Sunday night I listened to the United States’ presidential candidates claw at one another in debate with a ferocity that felt nothing short of eerie.
First of all, let me get this out of the way: I’m staunchly #WithHer. #ImWithHer for a million reasons under the sun, and for one very critical reason: She is the only sane human in the race. Which brings me to my current state of pit-stomached confusion. At what should be a seminal point in US history, the election cycle presents us with only two choices: Sanity or insanity. And, of course, this American-as-apple-pie rosemary cider caramel galette.
But I’m no political ideologue. Here’s what I am: A living, breathing, pussy-owning cis-gendered heterosexual white female citizen of the United States who believes in equality, freedom, and safety for all. Read more and get the recipe here.
She kissed you once, twice, thrice as you sat on the counter, her hands on your knees and her thumbs brushing against the edge of your skirt. She tasted like coffee and the apple pie caramels you’d gotten from the corner store down the street, and it was so thoroughly her that it made your heart throb. It like she lived and breathed her cafe now, so completely had she poured her soul into the business, and you loved it just as much as you loved her.
Her heart, her passion - you could feel it when she kissed you and also when she retreated slightly, her gaze dropping down in still lingering shyness. You couldn’t help but smile as you eased her chin up with a single finger. Look at me, the gesture said, something small, sweet, but insistent. Look at me and everything you have now.
Jaehee didn’t know how to approach a woman, didn’t know how to handle all of this happiness - but her smile crumbled less now as the months had gone by, and the newfound hope in her gentle brown eyes shone with a light that you could only call precious.
You were the one who kiss him, long and slow after having stolen the PhD Pepper he’d been about to drink. He’d looked up at you in shock as you’d chugged it in one fell swoop before crushing the can between your fingers and dropping it into the trash. He’d been about to say something before you interrupted it with your mouth, and you could still taste the soda on your tongue as you kissed him slowly and deeply.
Your hands framed his face and, after a moment of shock, he covered them with his own, shifting himself on the chair so he could push up into the gesture. After about a minute, you grew tired, starting to feel the ache in your shoulders from the odd position - but, when you finally pulled back, Saeyoung’s solution was to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his lap.
“Oof!” You grunted, the sound followed by a laugh that spilled out after seeing the delighted grin on Saeyoung’s face. ”Well, hello there, handsome. Come here often?”
He beamed up at you, showing off all his teeth in a particularly mischievous grin. “Of course! What’s not to love? The company’s wonderful, the scenery’s fantastic, and the drinks…”
Very lightly, he tapped your mouth with the tip of his finger, his smile softening into something filled with profound, helpless love. “…Are to die for.”
He kissed you lightly after dinner, and you kissed him back, playfully licking at a stray bit of pasta sauce that lingered on the edge of his mouth. Yoosung flinched back in surprise, touching the still wet spot - and then his face broke into smile, bright and warm and just like the sun. “You could have just wiped it off.”
“Nope!” You stuck your tongue out childishly, and then tapped his cheek, still able to taste the smooth, creaminess of Yoosung’s latest culinary masterpiece. “You’ve gotten so good at cooking, that I just can’t let anything~ go to waste!”
Yoosung stepped closer to you, brushing aside your bangs before pressing a light little smooch against your forehead. “You don’t… know how happy that makes me,” he admitted in a whisper, his lips still touching your skin. “Hearing that… I love you so much!”
You leaned over the dinner table with it’s pretty white cloth and it’s pretty polished silverware, but the prettiest thing in the room was the man across from you with a glass of wine in his hand, the deep, ruby red set so brilliantly against the dark black of his suit. As you brushed your lips against his, you giggled, tasting the alcohol and the sweetness on his breath. He leaned against you softly, but otherwise remained still, and when you pulled back, he looked at you from beneath his long lashes.
The wry tone in his voice made you laugh again, and you put your hands down flat on the table, leaning into for another kiss - longer, this time, with just a little more fervor. “Never.”
Jumin set the wine down, far enough away that it wouldn’t spill, and cupped your cheek with a single elegant hand. That was good - neither was he.
Before you left for work, you commented on how nice your new chapstick tasted, and of course Zen had to confirm your assertion by sweeping you up into the doorway of your shared apartment and kissing you.
You laughed, the giggle bubbling up from your throat, and you could feel him grin as he pulled you up to him and nibbled on your lip. It was strawberry, made sweeter and milder by the added taste of honey, and you could taste it to as you went in for another kiss. And another, and another, until you had to push him away by his shoulders, not really wanting to go but knowing you needed to be a responsible.
He watched you reapply your chaptstick, grinning like a puppy as he waited to see you off, and you knew he was planning to resume where he left off when you returned.
He tasted like the cream from the hot cocoa he’d just set on the table, and you leaned against him on the couch, brushing his hair lightly with your hand as you kissed. It was snowing outside, which you described to him in detail, from the quality of the light to the way each pale drop built up into clean, endless drifts. He loved it when you did that - loved your voice, loved your way with words, loved the stories you crafted for him there, before the fireplace and in the privacy of your home.
In this - in everything - you showed him a different world, one in where he could be happy and everything was so beautiful.
You kissed him again, and then placed a gentle peck on his nose, rubbing off the chocolatey mustache on his upper lip with your thumb. He smiled, taking your wrist between his fingers and moving your hand so he could kiss each finger one-by-one.
The light, tickling feeling made you laugh, as did his smile, those thin lips curving into an expression of honest joy.
They kissed you against the wall, mouth still flavored with the cigarette they’d been smoking moments before. It slipped from their fingers, and their heel ground it into ash as their now freed hand found your waist. Ah, they were hungry, but it was such a tired hunger - desperate rather than ravenous, and too exhausted to be overtly passionate. They held onto you, cupping your chin and sliding their palm up your side, and you buried your fingers in their hair, murmuring against their mouth as you pulled back for air.
“Vanderwood.” It was a quiet word, each syllable fond and teasing as a grin quirked at your mouth. You knew their real name, called them by it in private - but Mary Vanderwood the III had been the identity you’d first known them as, and you still had a special fondness for it.
Vanderwood. It sounded like a school or a little town at the bottom of a hill, and returning to that name brought forth a wave of fond nostalgia.
You breathed out, and they kissed you again, because no matter which one you used, they could taste heaven on your lips when you called their name.
Wrote these as my bedtime stories. ^^ Hope you enjoy!