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akabane-sousei · 1 year ago

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dis one is for me since I like never request anything for myself | Nanami Kento x Kim Mae-Hui | having them give something of importance to them for you, as a gift (ie. "oh this is a necklace my late mum owned.. she always wanted me to gift this to someone i cherish.. have it. :)" )

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Q IM SORRY I IGNORED YOUR EXAMPLE AND JUST WENT WITH MY OWN IDEA LOL. Love you lots, thank you for always hanging out and rambling and giving advice and drawing so wonderfully and watching anime and being a A-Class human being.

In an unusual turn of event, Mae-Hui didn’t wake up until the sun was already high up and the morning was turning to midday. That really wasn’t usual for her, as she preferred to rise early, get her store, her plants, her bug friends in order, before she could really start the day. But sometimes, on rare days such as this one was, she forgot all about that and slept in.

Once she realised how late it had gotten she jumped out of bed, grabbing the first dress she could find on the chair next to the bed and buttoning it up as she made her way out of the room. In her hurried state she didn’t even spare a look in the mirror at the back of the room. Her hair was secondary now, she needed to check on her things first.

When she stumbled out of the bedroom into the living room area, feeling like a bear that had just woken up from an especially long hibernation she found Kento on the couch, legs crossed, the Japan Times in his hand. She would have made fun of him for his old man demeanour at the ripe age of 30, but was distracted by the fact that he was shirtless.

Shirtless man in her living room, not a bad start to a morning. Even if it was late.

“Eh-” she let out, temporarily forgetting how forming words worked among human beings.

Kento let the newspaper sink and looked over to her. He was wearing his reading glasses, which just added to his overall look of an old man though he’d barely reached quater age. “Kin-sei,” he said and looked over the rims of the glasses right at her, “you are finally up.”

Mae-Hui curled her lips a little. Nanami Kento had, ever since she’d known him, been a sweet talker, but lately he’d taken a liking to calling her kinsei specifically. A sort of play on words about her nickname Kin and the word for star. Sure, he most often pronounced it like two separate words pulled together, but sometimes he fluently put them into one.

Kinsei, in a convenient twist he had probably thought about when he came up with the nickname, was the name for the planet venus. He was essentially calling her a Venus. There were times like right now when that embarrassed Mae-Hui a little, but there were also times like last night where it had embarrassed her in a good way.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asked and hurried over to her balcony side plants.

Kento folded the newspaper: “You deserve sleep.”

He was so pragmatic it could almost be unnerving. “What about the store? I wasn’t up to open it!” She lifted her watering can only to realise that the plants had already been watered so she put it back down.

“I sent Itadori-kun to take care of it.” Kento stretched a little. “Now that he is soon to be a university student he should learn how to hold a part time job on his own.”

Kin couldn’t help but grin at the image of 19 year old Itadori Yuuji, known and renowned Jujutsu Sorcerer and Grade A sunny boy standing in her jewellery store. But then again it made full sense in some way. Yuuji would probably be so helpful to every customer that her sales would double. Maybe next time she could bring Megumi too then the clientele of female customers would probably double.

She turned on her heels and walked to her terrarium. “You are working that boy so hard,” she stated with a little wink in Kento’s direction so he knew that she only meant it jokingly. Still, she earned herself a classic Nanami deep-sigh in reply.

“I would say the work he does for you is more like a vacation,” he explained. “At least with everything else he sometimes has going on.”

The bug-friends in their terrarium were crowing happily around set out fresh plants that they were happily munching. Mae-Hui watched them move about and wondered how early Kento had gotten up to be able to take care of all of this. That he had gotten up and done all of that for her, just the general thought of that, already filled her with so much warmth that she could have jumped his bones. She kept it together though. For now.

“I thought you hate work,” she said instead, turning around to walk to the kitchen for a cup of tea. “Do you want the boy to get a normal job?” They always talked about Yuuji as if he was Nanami’s own son, when in fact Nanami hadn’t met him until 4 or so years ago and not really been his teacher either.

Kento sighed one more time. “What I want does not matter. Itadori-kun should decide what he wants.” Sometimes he was speaking in such a low voice that it almost left goosebumps on her skin.

In her tiny kitchen she found that a little teacup had been already prepared for her. Kento had filled the tea in a cup with a lid to keep the warmth inside. He had really thought of anything. At this point she wouldn’t even be surprised to find a full set of breakfast in one of the cupboards or the fridge.

“You look very good in this by the way,” he said suddenly. “Fits you better than I would have thought.”

Mae-Hui took a step back, the cup of tea still in her hand. “Eh-thank you,” she replied, wondering why he had phrased it this way. After all, he’d seen her in this dress just last night for dinner.

“The length of it just covers everything that needs covering, but also doesn’t cover everything. It’s nice, kin-sei.” When she turned she found him staring at her figure so much that it almost made her feel embarrassed once again.

What was his issue, she wondered as she walked from the kitchen to the couch. He’d seen all of this yesterday and yet he acted like he had never seen her like this before? She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the fridge door and then realised what he was talking about.

She wasn’t wearing her baby blue dress, the one she had extra chosen for their date last night. No, instead she was wearing a shirt like a dress. His shirt.

Mae-Hui stared at herself, then down to her toes and back to her mirror image. “Ken- I - I didn’t know that I put this on…,” she mumbled trying to make sense of what had happened. She had hurried out of bed and then ended up grabbing the wrong piece of fabric. The two of them often colour matched their outfits as they went out just because they liked colour matching and so a mistake like that was easily made.

“I don’t mind,” he said calmly. “I think it looks better on you than it would ever on me.”

She took the cup and sat down next to him on the couch. Half she had already lifted her hand to the top button of the shirt with the intention of giving it back to him, when she realised that she wasn’t wearing much underneath. That could have been sexy in any other situation than the balcony being wide open.

“I’ll wash it and give it back to you,” she said and leaned back into her couch cushions. “And from now on I’ll be a bit more careful about what I put on. Maybe I could buy a light kimono….”

Kento took a strand of her hair between his fingers like he often did when they sat side by side. He’d done it when they were younger and her hair lounger and he was still doing it now that she kept it shorter. Sometimes she joked that he would still do it even if she had a buzzcut. “You’d find a way,” she’d say.

“Just keep it.”

Mae-Hui blinked at Kento in confusion: “Keep what? The shirt?”

“The shirt,” he nodded. “Now that I see it on you I realise it should have always been worn by you.”

Again with the sweet talking. In another life in which he wasn’t the kindest man in the world he would have made an excellent fuckboy. “But it’s your lucky shirt”, Kin touched the fabric at her chest.

How she had not recognised the shirt she had put on was beyond her, considering this one was so peculiar and different. It was definitely Kento’s favourite shirt, despite the stains and blemishes on it. He only wore it under a suit jacket when the fixes were not visible and only for work. There used to be a time when he’d change into a different, newer shirt for their dates, but Kin also liked it when he wore it. This was the lucky shirt after all.

A few years, almost like a different lifespan ago, he’d worn this exact shirt when he was called in to help out with the Shibuya commotion. And though he’d faced not one, but two almost impossible to beat opponents, he’d made it back to her. Sure, he’d sacrificed and arm and was now scarred on one side of his face, but he had come back.

The shirt had been a little ripped, it had burned and lost a bit of colour, but generally it had survived in one piece. As if it was some good luck charm for him, he’d started wearing it on every job afterwards. Mae-Hui could not take it from him like this, it was what gave him confidence.

He sighed and then snailed his one arm around her shoulders. “Four years ago I used up all my luck with it in one night. But for you it might still have luck leftover. And I want you to be very lucky, kin-sei.”

Her lips curled another time. “Fine, I will make sure to wear it for you like this everytime you are around.”

The declaration made him laugh. “Sure thing.”

They leaned towards each other and shared a kiss like this and Mae-Hui had to think of her earlier inner desire to thank him for being the most wonderful human being by jumping his bones again. 15 mins ago she had told herself she’d hold back, but now she thought it was maybe time to reconsider.

#fic tag #maybe dont put your best character in a box forever #other peoples ocs #yes i absolutely DID just learn the japanese word for the planet venus this week #why you ask

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dear-ao3 · 6 months ago

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so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

#not a tag #from saph #no i’m not stressed at all why do you ask #the walnut cake

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