FAIRY!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!! MAY MANY MORE COME!!! :O <3
May I request Edward Elric with the action propmpt 10? That would be awesome!! <3
APPLE PIES
Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Gender Neutral!Reader
Prompt: Putting their head on their lover’s shoulder (Action Prompt #10)
Notes: POST-FMAB EVENTS
AND THANK YOU RU
This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!
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Even after all Father had put you through, some things never changed.
That thing being Edward’s obnoxious love for apple pies.
Specifically Gracia’s recipe. She had been kind enough to gift you and Winry the recipe years ago. The scrap of paper was well-loved and worn out, stained with butter, and the writing barely legible. But that didn’t matter. You knew the recipe by heart after years of making it for your lover.
Your forearms were covered in flour, and you were pretty sure you had something on your face as you worked butter into your dry ingredients. Your hands felt sticky with dough, but you didn’t mind. This would make Edward happy, and that alone made your day.
It always did.
Especially after all he had gone through growing up and through his young adult life.
You cracked an egg on the corner of the bowl and added it to the dough mixture, mixing everything by hand until you had the consistency you wanted. It had grown warm in the process, so you stuck it in the ice box to chill for at least an hour while you got to work on the filling.
Two tablespoons of lemon juice. Nine apples peeled, cored, and sliced into wedges. Both went into a bowl with some sugar and tossed until combined. Then a skillet was turned on, and everything was put in with more butter and mixed until the apples were soft. The scent of fruit filled the air, making your mouth water, and you felt giddy at the idea of eating the dessert later.
You may not have been Edward, but you still loved a good apple pie now and then.
Just then, warm arms wrapped around your waist, and a chin was put on your shoulder.
“What are you making?” Came Edward’s voice, and you hummed, leaning your head on his as you tossed the apples once again in the skillet. The sugar was melting. It was almost time.
“Apple pie. You asked for one last week.” You said warmly and felt him grin as he turned his head to place a kiss where your shoulder met your neck.
“You remembered?” At this, you huff out a laugh,
“Have I ever forgotten something?” You say, and he thinks it over, pecking your cheek this time.
“No. It’s like Ling said. Something about elephants never forgetting. Wait, no—Alphonse said that in one of his letters. He’s studying them with May Chang in between alkahestry lessons.” He said, tapping his fingers against your waist.
You gently pry his arms away from around you, ignoring his whine, and go to pull the dough from the fridge, turning off the stovetop as you do so.
“Now that you’re here, you can help me.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow,
“You’re trusting me in the kitchen? I thought I was banned after Valentine’s Day.” He says but grabs an apron from where it’s hanging on the wall nonetheless. You hold a finger up, smearing some flour on his nose,
“I’m trusting you with supervision. Don’t think I’ll let you in the kitchen with anything less than that. Alphonse can cook better than you, and he didn’t even have a body growing up!”
Edward mutters under his breath, something about how “that isn’t fair,” but he smiles at you nonetheless when he notices you watching him tie the apron.
“Like what you see?” He teases, and you offer a mischievous grin.
“I always do.” You retort and delight in the way his cheeks flush a pretty pink.
You quickly put Edward to work with the dough from the ice box. You carefully instruct him how to make pie crust and are actually rather impressed with how they turn out. Soon, you have two perfectly constructed pie crusts ready to be filled.
Maybe you can actually trust your lover in the kitchen. But then you remember the burnt attempt at breakfast from Valentine’s Day.
Like you had said before, he’s allowed in the kitchen with supervision.
You blink and are torn from your thoughts when something is smeared on your cheek. You look up from where you are preparing the second pie to see Edward with that grin of his that means he’s up to no good. Egg yolk is coating his finger, and you assume that’s what he just put on your face.
“You're supposed to be brushing the pie. Not my face.” You say, and he laughs.
It’s one of your favorite sounds in the world.
“Just seeing if you’re paying attention.” He says, and you smile. His own grin softens as you step into his side, wrapping a flour-stained hand around his waist.
“I love you, y’know?” You whisper, and he gently grasps your chin, turning you to face him, and kisses you so gently as if you’ll break. He tastes like stolen pie filling, but you don’t mind.
He’s so gentle with his love. He always has been.
It was one of the things you love about him.
And it was soft, domestic times like this that you treasured the most.
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