#and so you see like. spice and flour or emptied cans there

[datastate]

shin would apologize for his bed being a mess even if it’s overall fine, meanwhile keiji’s out here like “hey, let’s uh. keep this in the hallway alright? maybe find a nice, grassy spot to talk this out...” and then when he moves out of the doorway to close his apartment door you’re briefly face-to-face with the fact that he. needs severe help.

[cambion-companion]

“Just let me finish this and I swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” (144) lets get down to bussines

Part 2 of "Spray of Blood"

Word count: 2724

reader gets lost trying to run back to King's Landing and Aemond, still splattered in blood, has to find her and bring her back to safety.

haha this is a joint effort it seems! Also I have wanted to write reader sitting on Aemond's face so thank you for #86

28. i’m just getting comfy

74. “Do you want me to stay?”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs”

Aemond x wife!reader | smutty ending | 18+ only | fluff and a sprinkle of angst | Aemond isn't super happy lmao

You were lost.

Cursing, you stopped in the middle of the empty street, turning on the spot, surveying your unfamiliar surroundings.

"Fuck me sideways." You muttered, taking a moment to rub your aching temples.

You had indulged in too much spiced wine at the festival, muddling your already questionable orienteering skills.

"If the lady insists." A hissing voice accompanied a slender man emerging from the shadows of a stone building.

He held no weapon, seeming to think you easy prey as he strode forward, already unbuckling his trousers.

You still held the stone you had picked up when Aemond had confronted the men in the market, and so you collected your frayed nerves, taking careful aim as Aemond had taught you.

You threw the shard of brick, it struck true with a dull thud to the man's head. He went down like a sack of flour, hitting the damp cobblestones with a dull thud.

Shaking, you hurried on your way, in the direction you hoped the Red Keep was in. At least you were still walking uphill, that seemed to be a good sign.

After a few minutes of meandering, warm yellow light fell upon your face, a tavern in front of you that appeared cozy and welcoming. As you entered, you noticed a few other patrons, but the dining area and counter was mostly empty. A squat looking man was stacking dishware behind the bar counter as you took a seat.

He gave you a cursory glance with a raised eyebrow, you shifted to hide the fine fabric of your dress beneath the cloak you still wore. You pulled back your hood, wanting to be recognizable if Aemond passed the window searching for you.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked in a gruff baritone, seeming not to care what brought you to his establishment so long as you had gold.

"Do you have hot tea? Or something non-alcoholic?" You asked. "I just came from the fire festival and had a bit too much to drink there."

"Ah I see!" The man smiled, his ruddy cheeks reflecting the candlelight. "Yes, I can get you some green tea brewed up. Does wonders for a hangover."

"Thank you."

Minutes passed, turning to hours as you sat at the uncomfortable wooden table. You drank several mugs of steaming earthy tea, enjoying the way it warmed your body from the inside out.

"Are ye waiting for someone?" The bartender looked at you quizzically, clearly wondering why you were remaining for so long. All the other patrons had left for their homes by now.

"Yes, my husband."

"You're lost?"

You shifted uneasily in your seat, casting him a wary glance.

He raised his hands, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I mean you no harm miss, but if you'd like directions, I can give them." He glanced outside at the dark streets. "Though perhaps it best if you wait here, it's not safe for anyone to be wandering about right now."

"Where am I?"

He chuckled looked at you with a fatherly smile. "Outskirts of Flea Bottom."

You groaned.

"Not where you intended to be I expect. Not wearing a dress like that."

You shifted your cloak to cover yourself better.

"You have nothing to fear from me." The keeper reiterated. "I'll not cast you out till your husband comes to fetch you."

"Thank you." You lay your head upon your hands, staring glassy eyed out the window, praying to all the gods Aemond would find you.

You had fallen into a doze, jolted awake by the sound of the inn door slamming open and the exclamation of the barkeep still behind his counter.

Aemond, glorious with his shining hair and piercing violet eye, strode into the tavern, his gaze locked onto you.

"My-my prince! What an unexpected..." The tavern keeper trailed off as he watched Aemond walking purposefully toward you.

You rose from your seat, throwing your arms around Aemond's neck as he pulled you against him, his hands at your back, stroking soothingly as he kissed your ear.

You tried your best not to sob. "Aemond, I got lost."

"You're the wife of Aemond Targaryen?"

The two of you broke apart to turn to the front of the room, where the keeper was bowing low.

"He helped keep me safe." You interlocked your fingers with Aemond's.

Your husband stepped up to the rough wood counter, depositing a bag of clinking coins onto its surface. "You have my gratitude."

The man continued to bow, averting his gaze. Aemond made a soft "hmm" in the back of his throat, guiding you out of the warm room into the cool night air.

You didn't get far before he pulled you to a stop, his taut face illuminated silver in the moonlight. "I've been searching for you for hours, Y/N."

"I-"

He held up a hand to stop you from speaking. "You were not in our rooms. So, I returned to the square as quickly as I could, asking anyone still outside if they had seen you."

You looked down at your feet guiltily as Aemond continued.

"Imagine my surprise when I find a man collapsed upon the ground, a stone beside him and a lump on his forehead."

"He...had ill intentions." You whispered, still studying your shoes.

"Hmm. A shame I left him alive then." Aemond's fingers hooked under your chin, pulling your face to look up at him. "However, that is how I found you sitting in that tavern."

You slowly moved forward, tentatively wrapping your arms around Aemond's waist. You could tell how worn and anxious he was, specks of blood still upon his tunic from the men he'd dispatched earlier that evening.

"Aemond, I'm sorry for getting lost. I...was panicking and a little drunk." You smiled weakly as his face softened, his lilac eye roving your features as you rubbed small circles to the small of his back.

"I had intended this to be a relaxing evening of fun." Aemond said, giving a short laugh of derision. He cupped your face in his hands. You noticed they shook slightly. "I was beside myself with worry, Y/N." He brushed his soft lips to yours gently. "This is not a place for a woman to wander alone."

"You have me safe now, Aemond."

"And safe is where I will keep you."

He kissed you firmly, slanting his mouth over yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as you made a soft noise against him. In the tension of his body against your own you felt how worked up he was from the events of the night, the intensity with which he kissed you promised bruised lips in the morning.

“If we weren’t in public right now I'd have my head between your legs."

"Aemond." You whispered, shocked, as you checked over your shoulder for anyone listening. The streets were luckily empty, though several windows were wide open.

"Come." The prince grasped your hand firmly in his and began leading you in the correct direction of the Red Keep.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of your chambers, lit with the orange glow of a blazing fire in the hearth that you immediately crossed to stand before, warming your hands.

Your large, clawed bathtub sat full of steaming water in the middle of the room.

Aemond came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I had the servants draw a bath for your return, we are fortunate it seems to still be hot."

You felt him beginning to loosen the ties of your dress. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck. "I'd understand if you need to be alone. It has been a...difficult evening."

"Please stay, Aemond. I need you with me, especially right now."

He kissed your neck and resumed undoing your dress. You smiled to yourself at his evident eagerness to see you laid bare before him.

The fabric of your dress and undergarments pooled around your feet, you leaned into Aemond's warm touch as he fondled the curves of your ass and hips with one hand, his other reaching around to stroke at your breasts.

You turned to him, allowing his gaze to roam your firelit body. "You are still covered in blood, my lord husband." Your wandering fingers began undoing the clasps of his own clothing, shedding each garment with tender care until he was as naked as you, his thick member already standing at attention.

You smiled coyly at him, allowing him to support your balance as you stepped into the hot water of the bath. You sank down into the silken water, scooting forward enough for Aemond to take his place behind you.

You pressed your back against him, your hands running along his legs as they caged your body, his arms wrapping around your torso.

"I'm just getting comfy." You murmured, leaning back so that your head rested against Aemond's chest, looking up at his adoring gaze.

He had removed his eyepatch, the sapphire gemstone glittering dazzlingly by the reflection of firelight against the water that now lapped against the edges of the wooden tub.

The two of you rested like this together, rubbing each other down with soap and wash cloths. You took your time cleansing Aemond's skin, feeling the knots in his tense muscles and kneading them loose, his eye fluttered shut at your loving attentions.

Only when the water had cooled and the two of you began to shiver, did you exit the bath, helping each other towel down until you were relatively dry. Aemond grabbed your waist, pulling you in for another scorching kiss, one of many he'd bestowed upon you that night.

"Lay on the bed for me."

You obeyed, perhaps misinterpreting his meaning as you wrapped yourself in your nightrobe before getting comfortable in bed. You watched Aemond from your cocoon of blankets as he busied himself trying to get the stains out of his tunic and undershirt.

"Aemond..." You called quietly, trying to entice him over with the lilt of your voice.

"The blood has set into the fabric long enough, Y/N. Give me a moment to try and lift it."

"Aemond." You wiggled beneath the covers, seeking to draw his gaze.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

"If you don't come over here now, I'm going to start touching myself."

You knew just what to threaten.

With a growl, Aemond threw down his ruined shirt upon the sofa, striding to the bed and throwing the blankets off your body. "Take that off." His dilated eye took in your tantalizing curves wrapped up in your fluffy nightrobe.

"I'm cold."

"Do not tease me anymore this eve." Aemond crawled over your prone form, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

You undid the tie around your waist, shifting the fabric off, exposing yourself once more to your husband's eager touch. His fingers rolled your pebbling nipples, tugging at your flesh, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as you arched into him.

"Already so wet for me." Aemond murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your sex, feeling between your slick folds.

You gasped at the feeling of him exploring you. In a fluid motion, you rolled your entwined bodies over, shifting to sit on his torso, looking down at Aemond's face, his curved lips parted in surprise.

"I want to be on top." You could barely speak, so entranced you were at the sight of him laid beneath you, his silver hair spread out atop the pillows. "Let me do this, please."

You rocked your hips, feeling his hard arousal beneath you as you stroked your vulva along Aemond's shaft. His eyelid fluttered at the sensation, his hands rising to grip your hips as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

"Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Your mouth parted, Aemond tugged you a little forward by his grip on your hips. "Are-are you sure I won't suffocate you?"

Aemond laughed. "If you do, I couldn't think of a better way to go."

Heat pooled in your belly as you scooted forward, bracing your hands against the bedframe as you hovered on your knees over Aemond's face. "You're sure?"

"Y/N."

Aemond rose just enough to tease your entrance with his nose, nuzzling against your swollen clit. You gasped, lowered yourself rather gracelessly onto his angular face.

You quivered, feeling Aemond's tongue working against you as you rocked gently against him. His chin, his nose all pressed against your most sensitive parts. The wet sound of him lapping up your essence filled the darkened room.

"Oh Aemond." You gripped the bedframe tighter, making sure to not actually suffocate your husband with your cunt no matter how he tried to pull you more against his searching mouth, his fingers pressing deep against the flesh of your thighs.

He grunted, the vibration of his voice causing you to clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked it into you. His nose continued pressing and rubbing against your clit, Aemond moving his whole face with your movements as you began to grind down on him, losing your self control.

His name spilled from your panting mouth, your climax rushing over you like waves upon the sea cliffs. Aemond drank you down eagerly, his tongue lapping you up as though you tasted of the finest wine. You rode out your orgasm on his face, your legs shaking as you lifted yourself off him, collapsing to the mattress as your husband rolled over you once more. His hair was a mess, his lips and chin soaked from your juices. You bit your bottom lip at the lewd sight, his eye tracking the movement.

Aemond kissed you, more gently than you had anticipated, his tongue searching your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release as he lined his cock to your entrance. You gripped the back of his head, gasping against him as he sunk slowly into you. Aemond's breath filled your lungs as his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you until he was fully seated within your still quivering walls.

Aemond broke your kiss, pulling away enough to watch your face as he began rutting into you. His gentleness gave way to a rougher, more desperate pace, his cock brushing your cervix with every punishing stroke. You clung to him, your legs rising instinctively to allow him deeper access.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, his chest still flush against your own as he nibbled the shell of your ear. "I can feel you tightening around me." You cried out as he increased his pace still more, fucking you deep into the mattress. "I need you to come. Show me you're mine." His cock twitched inside you. "Mine alone to claim."

"I am yours, Aemond." You felt your second orgasm of the night begin to rush through your body, your spasming quim already beginning to milk his member. "Forever yours."

Your name, so sweet on Aemond's tongue, filled the night air, mingling with your wordless moans of ecstasy as your husband spilled his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, remaining rooted there until you had both come down from the high of your climax.

Your legs were shaking in earnest now, Aemond reluctantly pulled away, his cum spilling out of you onto the now ruined bedsheets. Exhausted, satiated, and heedless of the mess you'd made, Aemond pulled you against him, encasing you in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made a pillow of his chest, his legs still tangled with your own.

Sleep took you quickly, a lock of Aemond's silken hair wrapped around your forefinger as you had a habit of doing when seeking comfort.

Aemond lay awake for a long while after you had drifted off, his mind still alive with the fear and rage that had consumed him mere hours before. Bedding you had taken the edge off, however the many gruesome possibilities of what could have happened remained unbidden and unwelcome.

He held you tighter against his lithe body, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of your chest on his, the light snores emitting from your slack mouth. Eventually exhaustion overtook Aemond, his eye falling closed, his lips still pressed to your head even in sleep.

[bayleavesgarden]

200 Cal Pumpkin Bread!

This recipe is Vegetarian and can be adjusted to be Gluten Free and Vegan!

Requested by : Anon <3

I'm a sucker for Pumpkin Bread, especially the type you can eat for Breakfast and Dessert but I have never tried making Low-Cal! I haven't done this recipe, so apologies Anon if it's not as sweet as you would've liked!

Hope everyone had a great Halloween, or Samhain as I celebrate! I'm going to keep up with asks as we are getting closer to other holidays where food is a big part!

Ingredients + Supplies (See Bottom for Optional Add-Ins)

3 Tablespoons of Olive Oil

1 Egg (or Egg Alternative, the ratio and calories may adjust based on hat you use)

2 Teaspoons of Vanilla Extract

1/2 Cup of Maple Syrup

1 Cup of Pumpkin Puree

1.5 Cups of Whole-Wheat Flower or Oat Flour (these are the only recommended flours to use, as any other flours may effect the dish)

1 Tablespoon of Cinnamon

1 Teaspoon of Ground Ginger

1/2 Teaspoon of Nutmeg

1/4 Teaspoon of Cloves

1 1/2 Teaspoons of Baking Powder

1 Teaspoon Baking Soda

---

8x4 Load Pan (I use a different size,, not sure I'd it matters but don't take my word for that)

1 Large Bowl

Instructions

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a greased 8×4 loaf pan.

In a bowl, mix together olive oil, egg, vanilla extract, maple syrup and pumpkin puree.

Stir in flour, spices, baking powder and baking soda.

Pour batter into a greased 8×4 loaf pan. Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted into the center of the bread.

Nutritional Info

Serving Size : 1 Inch of Bread / 1/8 of the Loaf

Calories: 199 kcal

Carbohydrates: 33 g

Protein: 4 g

Fat: 6 g

Saturated Fat: 1 g

Cholesterol: 20 mg

Sodium: 228 mg

Potassium: 199 mg

Fiber: 3 g

Sugar: 13 g

Calcium: 85 mg

Iron: 1 mg

Optional Add-Ins

1/2 Cup of Chocolate Chips (Varies)

1/2 Cup of Pumpkin Seeds ( + 52 Cals per Serving)

1/2 Cup of Dried Cranberries (+ 24 Cals per Serving)

[omegaversetheory]

Maybe.

I never write anything, and now it's summer so I thought why not. Warning, this one might hurt :( let me know if you want more of their story!

yes, it is set in an omegaverse, I just didn't mention it.

----------------

Ding. The bell above the café door rang as it swung open, and crisp spring air poured in, along with the lively sounds of the town as people began to start their day.

She stood there for a second, in the doorway, looking for him. Her big brown eyes moved back and forth before settling on his hulking body, squished into one of the café table chairs, cradling a hot cup of tea.

     No milk and a spoonful of honey. He’s stayed the same after all this time. She thought as she tried to swallow her nerves and walk over.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi.” Henry was quick to get to his feet, and brush himself off, quickly moving around the table to pull out the chair for her. For Rose. For his Rose. No, not his Rose. Just Rose.

Is it too much? No. he thought. No, I can get her chair, I always got her chair, even before-

“Thank you Henry I-“Rose began, as she pulled down her hood.

“No, it’s my pleasure, don’t worry about it.” He said softly as he took his seat. Had he been this sweaty when he’d stood up? Surely not. Right?

Rose laughed, a sound so merry, like the ringing of bells echoing through the hills, it filled Henry’s soul with a sort of zest for life. God, it hurt. “No, I was going to say I can’t believe we never came in here.”

Rose looked all around at the quaint little place, herbs strung along the walls, drying for later. The smell of sugar and spice in the air, the baker with his flour covered apron humming folk songs to his pregnant wife as she wiped a rag over the glass display case in the back. She laughed at him and swatted him away with her hand, blushing.

It was true, of course. They’d passed by this place, a real hole in the wall, so many times on their walks but had never thought to come inside. Maybe that’s why Henry came in, because it reminded him of her, and all of the things they never got to do.

“We did always pass by.” He said, taking a swig of his tea. “I wonder if we ever would’ve, you know, in time.”

“Henry.” Rose’s warm demeanor changed, she looked a little bit less confident, a little bit less sure.

“Maybe we would’ve finally brought bread to feed the ducks in the pond or gone to see the summer theater in the park.”

“Henry.”

“Maybe we would’ve finally gotten Mr. Gavolli’s recipe for his famous meatballs, maybe we would’ve slow danced to our song on the roof in the rain. Maybe we would’ve gone a new way, took a new trail, instead of following the same path we always did. Night after night.”

“Henry.”

“Maybe we’d sneak out, late at night, swim out into the middle of the lake, float on our backs, and watch the stars. Maybe it would feel like we were hurdling through the universe, a million miles an hour. Maybe it would feel still, like the Earth stopped turning, and it was just you and me.”

“Henry.” Rose was pleading now, her voice was quiet, those big brown eyes were even wider, and glassy too, tears balancing on her lashes, ready to tip over.

Henry didn’t know why he didn’t stop, why he couldn’t stop. It was like, now that she was here, sitting so close, the stars seemed to align and he could taste the life they could’ve had. So close, so fucking close, and man did it sting.

“Someday I would’ve bought you that big empty house in the valley Rose, except it wouldn’t be empty when we moved in. Painted it all up, a blue front door, a big comfy couch, just like we dreamed about.”

Now he had tears zig zagging down his cheeks. Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he stop?

“Someday, I would’ve kissed you as we laid in the grass as you read to me, someday I would’ve told you that when you’re with me I feel like my heart grows eight times its size. Someday I would’ve gotten down on my knees and begged for you to be mine. And maybe- “

Rose’s tears finally fell.

“And maybe, that time you’d say yes.”

[greekcookingmadeeasy]

Fluffy, Easy Cretan Petimezopita (i.e. grape Molasses Cake) with Walnuts, Sugar-free

🥮

Fluffy, easy Cretan Petimezopita (grape molasses cake) with Walnuts, sugar free – Afrati, eykoli Kritiki Petimezopita me Karydia, xwris Zahari BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy

Check my YouTube Video: HERE

Κοιτάξτε επίσης την συνταγή μου σε YouTube βίντεο, το λίνκ είναι: ΕΔΩ

Makes 16 medium slices The first cake that’s baked in my oven to mark the start of autumn is usually the beautiful Petimezopita! Why? Because by baking it, my house fills with vine harvest smells and warmth, which is what we need this sweet time of year. Of course, you can find Grape molasses (i.e. Petimezi-hence the name of the cake) all year round, so you can prepare it whenever you want. But nothing compares to the autumn smells of Petimezopita, filled with unforgettable memories of the innocent, childhood years. Let's see together how to prepare it, it's so easy. Suitable for vegans and fasting.

INGREDIENTS: • 375 ml / 1& ½ cup Grape Molasses-Petimezi • 280 ml / 1.1 cups Olive oil • 375 gr / 13 oz / 3 cups Self-Raising Flour, sifted! • ¾ cup / 190 ml fresh Orange Juice • Zest of 1 Orange, about 3 tbsp. • ½ tbsp. Baking Soda • 90 ml / almost 1/3 cup Semi-Sweet Red Wine • ½ cup / 75 gr / 2.6 oz Finely or coarsely chopped Walnuts • About 4 tbsp. / 40 gr / 1.4 oz Sesame seeds (for the pan and for garnishing) • ¾ tbsp. ground Cinnamon • 1/4 tsp. ground Cloves • ½ tsp. ground Nutmeg • Optional: 50 gr / 1.8 oz / almost ½ cup Currants • Optional: Powder (Icing) Sugar for garnishing

METHOD: A. Prepare the Petimezopita mix: 1. In the mixer’s bowl, pour the 3 basic, liquid ingredients: the oil, the wine and the petimezi. 2. Beat them briefly on medium speed until petimezi is dissolved.

3. Add the 3 spices and the orange zest. Beat to mix them well. 4. Dissolve the baking soda in the orange juice and add it to the rest of the ingredients. 5. Then add the flour, spoon by spoon, into the Petimezopita mixture, beating at low speed, until it is mixed well with the other ingredients. 6. Tip: It is important that your flour is sifted in this recipe, so that the cake rises properly when baked and doesn’t crumble when you cut it.

7. Finally, add the chopped walnuts (coarsely chopped if you want to feel them on your teeth or finely chopped if you only want to feel their taste). At this point, you could also add the currants, if using. 8. Beat them only as much as needed to incorporate them into the cake mix. Stop the mixer.

9. Spray or brush a round, Spring form (with side opening) of 24 cm / 9.5 in (or 26 cm / 10 in. for a thinner cake) and sprinkle the bottom and sides with the 3 tbsp. Sesame seeds.

10. Empty the Petimezopita mixture and shake the pan a little to level its surface. The mixture should be a bit looser than a normal cake. 11. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tbsp. Sesame seeds on top. Ready for the oven.

B. Baking instructions: 12. Bake Petimezopita in a preheated oven, top & bottom heating elements on @ 170 ℃/ 340 ℉, on the bottom shelf, for about 1 hour (depends on the oven). 13. It should rise well and start coming off the sides of the pan. 14. After 1 hour, check if it’s ready: insert a knife into the heart of the cake; it should come out clean and dry, like in a normal cake. 15. Remove pan from the oven.

C. Serving Instructions: 16. Let Petimezopita cool down completely on your kitchen counter. 17. Once cool, remove the pan and place the cake on a pretty, round platter. 18. Optionally, you can sprinkle it now with powder sugar, if you like.

19. In some cases, in Crete, it is poured with additional Petimezi, warmed up and diluted with a bit of water (like a syrup).

D. Serving suggestions: Petimezopita can be paired deliciously with a cup of coffee for breakfast or tea in the afternoon.

Time to try it: It is very fluffy, crunchy and at the same time sweet and juicy from the petimezi and so fragrant. And healthy because it is sugar-free. It will be an unforgettable cake, I promise you, try it!

Check a Salad using Petimezi HERE

A gorgeous, easy cake to warm you up, so you can snuggle with your tea by the fire in the lovely autumn.

E. Storage Information: Petimezopita must be eaten relatively quickly (3 days at the most), so that it does not dry out. Store it in an airtight container.

G. Information about Petimezopita:

Petimezopita is a healthy pie-cake that’s traditionally made in Crete in the Autumn but also all year round since petimezi can be kept for a long time. We also use petimezi to make the renowned Moustokouloura!

The recipe for Petimezopita is also found in the Cyclades (Aegean) Islands!

If you love grapes, check all my Recipes so far HERE

Check my YouTube Video: HERE

Αφράτη, εύκολη Κρητική Πετιμεζόπιτα με Καρύδια, χωρίς ζάχαρη BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy Φτιάχνει 16 μέτριες μερίδες Το πρώτο κέικ που μπαίνει στο φούρνο μου σηματοδοτώντας την έναρξη του φθινοπώρου είναι συνήθως η πανέμορφη Πετιμεζόπιτα! Γιατί? Επειδή με το ψήσιμο το σπίτι μου μοσχοβολάει τρύγο και ζεσταίνεται, ό,τι χρειάζεται δηλ. αυτή η γλυκιά εποχή του χρόνου. Φυσικά το Πετιμέζι μπορείτε να το βρείτε όλο το χρόνο, οπότε μπορείτε να τη φτιάξετε όποτε θέλετε. Αλλά τίποτα δεν συγκρίνεται με τις φθινοπωρινές μυρωδιές της Πετιμεζόπιτας, γεμάτες αξέχαστες αναμνήσεις παιδικών, αθώων χρόνων. Ας δούμε μαζί πώς να τη φτιάξουμε, είναι τόσο εύκολη.

Κατάλληλη για βίγκαν και νηστεία.  

ΥΛΙΚΑ: • 375 ml / 1,5 φλ. Πετιμέζι • 280 ml / 1,1 φλ. Ελαιόλαδο • 375 γρ / 13 oz / 3 φλ. Αλεύρι που φουσκώνει μόνο του, κοσκινισμένο! • ¾ φλ. / 190 ml φρέσκος Χυμός Πορτοκάλι • Ξύσμα 1 πορτοκαλιού περίπου 3 κ.σ. • ½ κ.σ. Μαγειρική Σόδα • 90 ml / σχεδόν 1/3 φλ. Κρασί κόκκινο ημίγλυκο (μπρούσκο) • ½ φλ. / 75 γρ / 2,6 oz Καρύδια ψιλο- ή χοντροκομμένα • Περίπου 4 κ.σ. / 40 γρ / 1,4 oz Σουσάμι (για το ταψί και για γαρνίρισμα) • ¾ κ.σ. Κανέλα σκόνη • 1/4 κ.γ. Γαρίφαλο σκόνη • ½ κ.γ. Μοσχοκάρυδο • Προαιρετικά: 50 γρ. / 1,8 oz / σχεδόν  ½ φλ. Σταφίδες μαύρες μικρές • Προαιρετικά: Ζάχαρη άχνη για γαρνίρισμα

ΜΕΘΟΔΟΣ: Α. Ετοιμάστε το μίγμα της Πετιμεζόπιτας: 1. Στο κάδο του μίξερ, βάλτε τα 3 βασικά, υγρά υλικά: το λάδι, το κρασί & το πετιμέζι. 2. Χτυπήστε τα για λίγο σε μέτρια ταχύτητα μέχρι να διαλυθεί το πετιμέζι.

3. Προσθέστε τα 3 μπαχαρικά και το ξύσμα πορτοκαλιού. Χτυπήστε να αναμιχθούν καλά. 4. Διαλύστε τη σόδα μέσα στο χυμό πορτοκαλιού και προσθέστε το στα υπόλοιπα υλικά. 5. Βάλτε κατόπιν το αλεύρι κουταλιά-κουταλιά, μέσα στο μείγμα της πετιμεζόπιτας, χτυπώντας με χαμηλή ταχύτητα, μέχρι να αναμιχθεί και να χαθεί μέσα στα υλικά. 6. Συμβουλή: Είναι σημαντικό το αλεύρι σας να είναι κοσκινισμένο σε αυτή τη συνταγή για να φουσκώσει σωστά στο ψήσιμο και να μη θρύβεται όταν τη κόψετε.

7. Τέλος προσθέστε τα κομμένα καρύδια (χοντροκομμένα για να τα νοιώθετε στο δόντι ή ψιλοκομμένα για να αισθάνεστε μόνο τη γεύση τους).  Σ αυτό το σημείο μπορείτε να προσθέσετε και τις σταφιδούλες, αν χρησιμοποιείτε. 8. Χτυπήστε μόνο όσο χρειάζεται για να ενσωματωθούν στο μίγμα του κέικ. Σταματήστε το μίξερ.

  9. Λαδώστε με σπρέι ή πινέλο ένα στρογγυλό ταψί με τσέρκι (με άνοιγμα στο πλάι) των 24 εκ / 9,5 in (ή ενναλ. 26 εκ / 10 in. για πιο λεπτό κέικ) και πασπαλίστε το πάτο και τα πλάγια με 3 κ.σ. σουσάμι.

10. Αδειάστε το μείγμα της πετιμεζόπιτας και κουνήστε λίγο το ταψί να ισιώσει η επιφάνεια. Το μείγμα είναι κάπως πιο αραιό από του κανονικού κέικ. 11. Πασπαλίστε την επιφάνεια με την υπόλοιπη 1 κ.σ. σουσάμι. Έτοιμη για ψήσιμο.

Β. Οδηγίες ψησίματος: 12. Ψήστε την Πετιμεζόπιτα  σε προθερμασμένο φούρνο, πάνω & κάτω αντιστάσεις @ 170 ℃/ 340 ℉, στην κάτω σχάρα, για περίπου 1 ώρα (εξαρτάται από το φούρνο). 13. Πρέπει να φουσκώσει καλά και να ξεκολλήσει από τα τοιχώματα του ταψιού. 14. Μετά από 1 ώρα ελέγξτε αν είναι έτοιμη: μπήξτε ένα μαχαίρι στην καρδιά της, πρέπει να βγαίνει καθαρό και στεγνό, όπως στο κέικ. 15. Βγάλτε το ταψί από το φούρνο.

Γ. Οδηγίες σερβιρίσματος: 16. Αφήστε τη Πετιμεζόπιτα να κρυώσει καλά στο πάγκο της κουζίνας σας. 17. Μόλις κρυώσει, αφαιρέστε το ταψί και βάλτε τη σε μια όμορφη στρογγυλή πιατέλα. 18. Προαιρετικά, μπορείτε να τη πασπαλίσετε τώρα με ζάχαρη άχνη, αν θέλετε.

19. Σε μερικές περιπτώσεις, στη Κρήτη τη περιχύνουν με επιπλέον Πετιμέζι, ζεσταμένο και αραιωμένο με λίγο νερό (σα σιρόπι).

Δ. Προτάσεις σερβιρίσματος: Η Πετιμεζόπιτα είναι απολαυστική με καφέ για το πρωινό ή με τσάι το απόγευμα.

  Ώρα για δοκιμή: Είναι πολύ αφράτη, τραγανή και συγχρόνως γλυκιά, ζουμερή από το πετιμέζι και τόσο μυρωδάτη. Και υγιεινή γιατί είναι χωρίς ζάχαρη. Θα σας μείνει αξέχαστη, σας το υπόσχομαι, δοκιμάστε τη.

Δείτε και με Συνταγή για Σαλάτα που χρησιμοποιεί πετιμέζι ΕΔΩ

Ένα πανέμορφο, εύκολο κέικ για να μπείτε ζεστά στο υπέροχο φθινόπωρο και να χουχουλιάσετε με το τσάι σας δίπλα στο τζάκι.

Ε. Πληροφορίες φύλαξης: Η Πετιμεζόπιτα πρέπει να καταναλωθεί σχετικά γρήγορα (το πολύ σε 3 ημέρες) για να μη ξεραθεί. Αποθηκεύστε τη σε αεροστεγές δοχείο.

Ζ. Πληροφορίες για τη Πετιμεζόπιτα:

Η Πετιμεζόπιτα είναι μια υγιεινή πίτα-κέικ που φτιάχνεται παραδοσιακά το φθινόπωρο στη Κρήτη αλλά και όλο το χρόνο μιας και το πετιμέζι διατηρείται πολύ καιρό. Με το πετιμέζι φτιάχνουμε και τ�� περίφημα Μουστοκούλουρα!

Τη συνταγή για Πετιμεζόπιτα τη συναντάμε επίσης στις Κυκλάδες!

Αγαπάτε τα σταφύλια όπως κι εγώ? Δείτε όλες τις Συνταγές μου ΕΔΩ

Κοιτάξτε επίσης την συνταγή μου σε YouTube βίντεο, το λίνκ είναι: ΕΔΩ

[regenderate-fic]

When I Run Away (You're Who I Run To): Chapter 3

main post read on ao3

Word Count (Chapter): 2,976

The sun was just beginning to set when Yaz and Rose made their way up to Penny’s place, exchanging nervous glances. Penny’s flat was a lot like theirs: a door leading to a narrow stairwell leading to another door, on which Rose knocked three times. 

The door swung open, revealing a very excitable Penny. She ushered Yaz and Rose inside, already talking a mile a minute: “Hello! Brilliant to see you. We haven't had people around here in ages. Missed it, honestly.”

She kept talking, introducing the space, pointing at plants and bits of art, while Yaz looked around. It was a small space, and cozy: they'd emerged into a living area, with an overstuffed purple sofa in front of a coffee table covered in potted plants. The walls were lined with bookshelves, most of which were stuffed with books, but some of which featured pictures of Penny, Donna, and a few unfamiliar faces, and others of which were piled high with board games, art supplies, and what looked like random bits of circuitry and machinery. It was all lit in a warm amber, the sort you’d get from cuddling up to a campfire in the middle of winter, and Yaz couldn’t help but feel at home. 

Penny trailed off, and Yaz took the opportunity to hold up a jar she’d been carrying under her arm. 

“My mum always drilled it into my head never to show up anywhere empty handed,” she explained. “Except we weren't sure what to bring, so I just packaged up some of the chai my nan sends me. Thought you might like it.”

Penny's mouth dropped open. “Yaz, I can't take something you got from your nan.”

Yaz shifted her weight. “She sort of sends me more than we can use,” she said. “There’s loads more where that came from.”

“She sounds brilliant,” Penny said, dead serious. She took the jar from Yaz. “Thank you.” She stared through the glass at the mix of spices and tea. “I suppose this is the sort of thing you have with lots of milk?”

“I'll show you how we make it later,” Yaz promised. “If you want, anyway.”

“Yasmin Khan,” Penny said, still dead serious. “That would be brilliant.”

Yaz smiled. 

Penny had stilled, just for a moment, but now she leapt into action. “C’mon,” she said. “I’ll show you the kitchen.” 

The kitchen itself was a mess. There was a cluttered table shoved into the space, leaving barely any room to stand at the counter— and the counters themselves were full of pans stacked on top of each other, baking sheets piled in the drying rack, flour sitting out. Donna was at the stove, poking at what looked like pasta in a thick red sauce; it smelled amazing. 

“Donna, we’ve got company!” Penny exclaimed. She set down the jar Yaz had given her on the counter. 

Donna turned, still holding the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir. “Oh, we do, do we?” She grinned at Yaz and Rose. “Welcome. Food’s almost done.” 

“Smells good,” Rose said. 

“Thanks.” Donna leaned forward. “Be glad I’m the one cooking. Who knows what Penny would’ve subjected you to?”

“Oi, which of us went to culinary school?” Penny protested.

“All the culinary school in the world can’t provide taste,” Donna replied. She raised her eyebrows. “Remember when you tried to mix tofu with peanut butter? And not a proper sauce, either.”

“That was all about the texture,” Penny insisted. 

Donna guffawed. “Who on Earth would think that’s a good texture?”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Table’s through here,” she said to Yaz and Rose, carefully ignoring Donna’s continued laughter. She led Yaz and Rose into a space just big enough for a table that seated four, currently set with a blue tablecloth, silverware and plates and bowls, and two tall candles in the center. There was a big window on one side, framed with red curtains and looking out on the street, and a framed art print of an abstract design in shades of blue and orange. Penny sat in one of the chairs, and Yaz and Rose followed her lead.

“How long have you and Donna known each other?” Rose asked, fiddling with her napkin. 

“Oh, since we were about sixteen,” Penny said. She waved a hand. “It’s a long story. Her family helped me out. Honestly, we’re basically siblings at this point. Or cousins. I usually tell people she’s my cousin.” 

“You get along better than me and my sister,” Yaz noted. She and Sonya cared about each other, but Yaz couldn’t imagine actually sharing a flat with her. “Or any of my cousins.”

Penny shrugged. “We work together well enough. Always have. One time when we were in school together we got assigned a science project, and we wound up making this huge diorama of the solar system in Donna’s grandad’s kitchen. Was brilliant. And then it broke in half on the bus to school, and we had to patch it up in the hallway.” She waved a hand. “Still, we managed the A. These days I think Donna just stays in my life to make sure I get decent coffee for the shop.” 

“Donna picks the coffee?” Rose asked. 

Penny nodded. “You heard her, didn’t you? I’ve got no taste, apparently. Just ‘cause I like some milk and sugar—”

“You barely put any coffee in there!” Donna had entered, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and four glasses in the other. “Honestly. Leave the coffee selection to the people who actually drink it.”

“I drink it!” Penny protested. 

Donna shook her head. She set down the wine and glasses on the table.

“You think you drink it,” she said. “But I’ve seen how much actual coffee goes into your cups.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll right back,” she said. She pushed herself to her feet and ran into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a loaf of challah much like the one Rose had bought that morning, sitting on a cutting board. She set it down on the table, a little out of breath.

“Think we’re close enough to sunset?” she asked Donna.

Donna peered out the window. “Sure.”

“You know you can look up when the sun sets online,” Rose said. 

Penny shook her head. “Where’s the fun in that?” She pulled out a box of matches. “Right. You two done this before?”

Yaz shook her head, but Rose nodded.

“You have?” Yaz asked.

Rose nodded again. “Back when I was with Mickey,” she explained. “He used to let his bandmates stay with him sometimes, ‘cause they didn’t have great relationships with their families, some of them. There was one friend— Sally, do you remember her? —he had her living with him for months who would have us all come round on Friday nights. We used to pitch in to help her get the bread and stuff. It’s a good memory.”

“Oh, right.” Yaz had just barely known Rose when she and Mickey had broken up— Rose had kept the friend group for a little while, but they’d sort of dissolved before Yaz and Rose got really close. Yaz had known Sally, in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, but not in an invited-to-Shabbat sort of way. She’d seemed nice, though. 

“It’s not too complicated,” Donna said to Yaz. “We light the candles, there’s a bit of prayer, there’s wine, there’s bread.”

Yaz exchanged a glance with Rose. 

“Yaz doesn’t really do alcohol,” Rose said. “Is that all right?”

“Oh!” Penny dropped the matches on the table. “Sorry, Yaz, I should’ve asked this morning. Donna, do we still have the grape juice from when your cousins were over?” Without waiting for an answer, she darted back into the kitchen. Yaz could hear the doors of cabinets and fridges opening, and then the sound of things being moved around, and then Penny came back in, holding a bottle of grape soda. “I think this’ll have to do.” She opened it, poured a little bit into one of the wine glasses, and then said, “You don’t have to drink it, honest. Just don’t want you to feel left out.”

“I feel like I’m learning a lot about your taste tonight,” Yaz joked. 

She did drink it, in the end: she listened as Penny and Donna sang blessings and Rose fumbled along, getting about half the words right, and she sipped from the grape soda ( not her favorite flavor, but all right under the circumstances), and she took a piece of the challah, which was in fact delicious: Penny’s skill as a baker was inarguable. 

“I see why you’re the best around,” Rose said.

Penny beamed. She moved the candles to the window ledge, and Donna went back into the kitchen and brought out a big serving bowl. “Oi, move the other stuff over,” she said.

Penny shifted the challah and wine bottle so that there was room for the bowl.

“Right.” Donna set down the bowl. “Help yourselves.”

Rose reached for the bowl, dishing out a helping of the pasta Donna had made. Once she was done, she passed the bowl to Yaz, who did the same. There wasn’t much talking as they started eating— until Donna jabbed her fork in Yaz’s and Rose’s direction and said, “Right, then. I’ve got to learn more about you two.” She gave Penny a look. “Considering how much this one seems to talk about you.”

“I don’t talk about you that much,” Penny protested.

Donna rolled her eyes. “You haven’t shut up since they agreed to come to dinner.” 

Penny looked down at her plate, her mouth pressed into a line. 

“Not sure we’re all that interesting,” Rose said. She glanced at Yaz. “I dunno. What do you want to know?”

Donna paused for a moment, thinking. “How’d you meet?” she asked.

“Working at the same shop,” Rose said. “Back when we were both really new.”

“I was just off my apprenticeship,” Yaz added. 

“Right, and they brought me on ‘cause their old piercer retired or something.” Rose took a bite of her food. “First day, I walk into the break room, Yaz is in there arguing with a coworker about whether or not blood is blue until it hits the air.”

“It’s obviously not, by the way,” Yaz added. “Don’t know how Dan managed to spend twenty years as a tattoo artist without figuring out that blood is pretty much always red.”

“And then they tried to get me to weigh in,” Rose said. “Except I was all, ‘Don’t ask me, I haven’t even got my A-levels,’ and then I got on the shop’s computer and Googled it, and, I dunno, I guess we were friends from there.”

“Good story,” Penny said. She was fiddling with her fork, poking at the pasta. 

“Why’d you come to London, then?” Donna asked Yaz. “I mean, not to assume or anything, but you sound like you’re from a bit further north.”

“I am,” Yaz said. “Technically I came for the apprenticeship. Really I was just trying to get away from my family, I suppose.” She hesitated. “I mean, not that there’s really anything wrong with them. Just— needed space. Anyway, it’s a good thing I did come here, ‘cause otherwise I never would’ve met Rose, and we never would’ve opened our shop together.”

“Where are you from, then?” Penny asked, eyeing Yaz. “Sheffield?”

“Right in one,” Yaz said. “Impressive.” She nodded to Penny. “How about you?” 

“Huddersfield, round about,” Penny said. “Except I might as well be from London, if it weren’t for the accent. Lived here since I was sixteen, haven’t I?” She scrunched up her face. “Wish I could just tell people I was from here.”

“Who’s stopping you?” Donna asked. “You say you’re from London, and if they ask about the accent, you just pretend it’s a perfectly normal London accent. Makes them look rude. Eventually, people stop asking. Easy.”

Penny tilted her head to the side. “Could work. Not sure it’d be worth it.”

“I’ll back you up, if it comes to that,” Yaz offered. “Tell people we’re from the secret north bit of London.”

Rose laughed. “‘Course, the illusion will be shattered once they get on Google Maps and realize it doesn’t exist.”

“That’s the secret bit, isn’t it?” Penny grinned. “Anyway, it won’t matter. Once they’ve left our shops, who cares what they think? We can definitely get away with this.” 

“Would be more fun than explaining the real story,” Yaz said. She looked at Penny. “I think we’ve got a plan.”

“Brilliant. Can’t wait.” Penny raised her eyebrows at Yaz. “You’d better follow through. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Yaz grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Brilliant,” Penny said again, and she shoved a truly astonishing amount of pasta into her mouth. 

After dinner, they lingered. Yaz was comfortable and full, and she was very much enjoying the conversation: Penny turned out to have no shortage of entertaining anecdotes from her time in culinary school and running the bakery, with sidebars and elaboration and further (often embarrassing) anecdotes of the both of them from Donna, and she showed a complete and earnest interest in anything Yaz and Rose had to say. It was a little disarming, the way she looked at Yaz when she talked. Yaz could’ve stayed all night, really, but then she checked her watch and realized what time it was. She tugged at Rose’s arm. “We’ve got to go if we want to be ready for tomorrow.”

“Oh, do you?” Penny looked genuinely disappointed at the prospect.

“Hey, we’re just across the street,” Rose said. “Come by tomorrow, even. We’ll be busy, but you might have fun.”

“At the very least it makes us look like we’ve got clients,” Yaz added. 

“Oh, brilliant.” Penny nudged Donna. “D’you want to come to their thing with me tomorrow?”

Donna shook her head. “I’ve got plans,” she said. “Me, face mask, magazines. Sorry.”

“We make Graham run the shop on Saturdays,” Penny explained. “Day of rest, and all that.” 

“Not if you’re Graham,” Yaz joked.

Penny shrugged. “He gets Sunday and Monday off. It all evens out in the end. And it’s theologically sound, considering.”

“We’d be happy to see either of you,” Rose said. “But you don’t have to come, of course.” She stood, holding out a hand to help Yaz up. “Thanks for inviting us tonight.”

“Yeah, I had fun,” Yaz said. “We’ll see you later?”

“Won’t be able to get rid of us,” Penny said. She got to her feet and walked them to the door. “Tomorrow,” she promised as Yaz and Rose stepped out into the hall.

“See you then,” Rose said. 

They took their time walking back across the street, still languishing in the contentment of the evening— at least, until Rose nudged Yaz and said, “You know, Penny was flirting with you.”

Yaz could feel the heat rushing to her face. “She was not .”

Rose danced in front of Yaz, walking backward so she could stare Yaz down and, lowering her voice in an imitation of Penny’s fervent tone, said, “ Yasmin Khan. That would be brilliant. ”

“That wasn’t—” Yaz flustered. “I’m pretty sure she’s just like that.”

Rose stepped back to walk at Yaz’s side again. “I don't know. It looked like flirting to me.”

“I thought you were into her,” Yaz said.

“Sure I am,” Rose replied. “Doesn’t do much if she’s not into me .”

Yaz glanced at her. “Considering you’re the one actually into women, I think you’ve got a shot.” 

“Oh, I don't know,” Rose said, and now Yaz could hear the smile in her voice. “If you’re not into her, why did you get all flustered when I said she was flirting?”

“I didn’t—” By now they were almost to the top of the steps to their flat. As soon as they reached the landing, Yaz bumped against Rose in a gentle shove. “Stop trying to convince me I’m into women.”

“Stop trying to convince me you’re not,” Rose said with a grin.

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Still pretty sure I’d know better than you.” 

“That’s what you think.” It was an old argument by now, worn comfortably in like a threadbare armchair— Rose was openly and unabashedly bisexual, and for years now she’d been insisting Yaz had to have feelings for other women. “But as your best friend, I know things about you you don’t even know about yourself. Like how you haven’t had a boyfriend in years . And how I saw you staring at that butch I brought home last year—”

“I was just trying to figure out where I knew her from,” Yaz protested. They’d stopped in the middle of the living room, and now Yaz was leaning against the back of the couch while Rose stood in front of her.

Rose shook her head. “I know what it looks like when you’re trying to figure out where you know someone from.” She raised her eyebrows. “Best friend, remember?” 

Yaz rolled her eyes.

“ And —” Rose got closer, her eyes huge in Yaz’s frame of vision— “if you were really straight, why would you get flustered when I said Penny was flirting?”

Yaz pushed her away, shaking her head affectionately. “You just don’t want to admit you’ve spent the last four years living with a straight girl.”

“It’s called having a roommate,” Rose scoffed. “ You just don’t want to admit you’ve been wrong this whole time.”

“Whatever.” Yaz pushed off the back of the couch, flicking at Rose’s shoulder as she went. “I’ve got to get to bed. My nonexistent attraction to women can wait ‘til morning.”

“It’s been waiting long enough,” Rose called after her. 

Yaz pulled the door to her room closed and flopped back on her bed, still smiling.

[ivymonkshood]

Sweet Bakery Girl

Their girlfriend is really good at Bakery, they love to watch you do what you love 🧡

— Draken, Mikey, Baji, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Kisaki, Taiju, Kazutora.

—Draken

He's in love everytime he sees you running up and down in the kitchen, the sweat shining on your forehead and he knows that's what you love doing.

He loves seeing the time you spend learning how to cook those sweet and puffy desserts he loves eating with the rest of the Toman.

One day you will start your own bakery and he will always be there for you.

He's your delivery guy, when he's not busy with the boys.

“You need help with anything? I´m right here, Love”

His favorite Pastry at your shop is the mango and Macadamia Cookies, after a long day of work he loves munching on those, they are sweet but not too sweet. Just the perfect amount.

He'll beat whoever yells at you at your workplace (and out of it), is so unpleasant for him to see people raising their voice at you. That. Will. Not. Be. Tolerated.

Hates to see you stressed.

He shows his love and support, he knows you deserve it.

— Mikey

Mikey is even more obsessed with you after finding out where you work at.

" The little cafe close to the pet shop is yours??! Why didn't you tell me?"

He will demand you ask you if you can make Taiyaki, his face will light up after hearing a soft "yes" with a little chuckle behind it.

Don't feed him too much bread :c

You had to descontinuate pastries with the red bean paste on them 'cause of Mikey, he just loves the warm fish-shaped cookie more than anything.

The cinnamon scent from your bakery returns the happiness to him everytime he has time to pass by and say hello.

He cried one time infront off you in the bakery, you don´t talk about it.

If you need help with anything he will send his mans to you.

He loves everything you make, he doesn´t have a favorite pastry.

You never forget to send him a box full of cupcakes with sticky notes with cheesy pick up lines to the Boten meetings.

They laugh at him 💀

— Baji 

He´s kinda annoying

He always knew you had like, magic for that type of stuff.

Will ask you if you can make treats for cats.

Will not be honest with you if the recipe didn´t turn how you expected.

He´ll eat the whole thing just to no see you sad.

The way to win this mans heart? His mom.

Loves the idea of giving you your own space in the kitchen but at the second you start mixing the ingredients together he´s there with his hands in the bowl-

Will burn the car of that annoying client that yelled at you for no reason.

He is loud about you being a baker everywhere he goes, school, Toman reunions, at home with his mom, even with Peke J and Chifuyu.

“She´s so pretty and she makes this super delicious things-”

Loves to throw flour at your face-

His favorite pastry is probably cinnamon rolls or the pumkin spiced pie, he can´t explain why neither can I :p

Just expect teasing and support from Baji

— Chifuyu

Your workplaces are side to side.

Chifuyu loves to spend his rest time just sitting on an empty chair at the cafe, talking with you about noting.

He is your backup support, anything goes wrong in the cafe? Chifuyu is already there

At some point you two will combine the pet shop and the cafe.

He tried to recommend you names for your bussines.. They were all horrible-

Gets overly excited when he spots something new in the place, even if it is just a mug..

Your failed recipe combinations are his favorites.. 

I just know he is the type to like that flavor of chips nobody else likes.

“Come on ´Fuyu, you can´t tell me you liked the scallion and strawberry coctel muffin-”

Wants to try everything you make, even if you didn´t like the result

Loves the Chocolat and sprinkles cookies, plain but always good.

He´s the type to lick every crum from his lips and fingers, he is messy c:

— Mitsuya

He is the mastermind behind the whole desing of the bakery.

The uniforms, the colors, the logo, everything graphic and visually attractive.

You think he does too much..

Mitsuya loves one thing and only one thing and that´s you in the pretty custom made uniform.

He made it and all the uniforms where the same but it was you so.. yeah.

Might work side to side with you but has never tasted one of your creations.

Hakkai bringed a small piece of cake to him while working and he was in love with it, he felt bad for the bussines.

“Who made this?” “What do you mean who made this-”

Takes his sisters to the cafe pretty often, they love you.

He finally got his favorite, the strawberry crepe, he even learned how to make it c:

Not a fan of sweets but loves to see you happy and help you 

Everything is support, support and more support with this man 

— Kisaki

Hear me out plz-

You two talk about profits and future earnings, or he does.

He just got too enthusiastic when you started talking about starting a bussines.

Like Mitsuya, he´ll help you with almost everything.

He does all the accounting so you can rest.

He enjoys being there for whatever you need, doesn´t matter if is too little or too big, if it´s bothering you consider it over.

Kisaki would bring clients on those super slow days, you don´t even wonder how.

Likes to show off your talent to Hanma

“Can your girlfriend make something like this? No. that´s what I thought”

He wants more off-work time so he can go check on you at your workplace :c

Probably has allergies and can´t try everything you make but he´ll telll his mans to do it.

Almond cookies or cream puffs, both goes really well with his bitter ass coffee.

He´s always there for you, no matter what you need.

— Taiju

My beloved.

He owns a restaurant, he´s trying so hard to persuade you to work for with him.

He respects the fact that you love your independient bussines but he can try.. 

“The Bakery manager uniform would look so good on you..”

And it doesn´t help that your work place is pretty close from him.

He´s on you all the time.

Won´t be really direct when he has to tell you if one pastry didn´t turn out good but will tell you in what you got wrong ´cause he hates to you fustrated.

He talks to his siblings about your job, he´s more proud than you-

Your employees used to be scared, they just calmed when you told them that he´s your husband.

Nobody dares to raise their voice at you, they see  him sitting in the back of the cafe and they think it twice

But he doesn´t shut up about “stealling” you from your work place

“You don´t like being around your husband, is that?”

He likes the Vanilla custard.. Reminds him of his mom, for some reason.

Taiju is a menace and sooner or later he´ll have you working at his restaurant.

—Kazutora

He just remembers those days in juvie when nobody went to visit him and you where there all the time, everyday.

You made his stay at juvie feel shorter, he loves you so much.

You bringed him little samples of what you were working on, lowey felt like he was missing everything

“You doing all that by yourself? That´s a lot of work but I know you can do it.. Just wait for me ´Kay?”

If Kazutora is not working at the petshop he´s working with you.

He´s the reason why you get so many customers

Most of them are old and sweet ladies

Pretty boy with pretty hair and the biggest boyfriend material aura, what did you expected?

He has zero problem with PDA, usually just spends the day holding for dear life on your waist as you work

He likes and will help you with everything

You left the decoration to him and almost everything is animal print-

He´s a Cheesecake boy to me, or maybe Tres leches kind of guy

Just know he´s doing his best c:

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Kissing Them | Heartslabyul | Twisted Wonderland

A.N. so... how are you guys? I’ve been alive and breathing. Living. Humaning, ya know? I’ve been gone for a while, but here’s my official comeback!

- Riddle Rosehearts -

        Kissing Riddle is soft, sweet, almost as shy as him. It's as if the kiss embodies his emotions each time his lips press to yours. They taste sweet and crisp, strawberries and mint are the only things that come to mind, but you aren't surprised when the taste of Treys latest baked treat sits comfortably on his lips and tongue. Each time feels eccentric, hearts brimming and fluttering in anticipation, shaky hands and nervous smiles are the tone of your love. The first look, the first smile, the first confession, the first kiss, the first love- he leaves you feeling refreshed and smiling, happy you finally are able to show your affections with him, even if you have much more experience. His kisses are just like that.

        "You're too good to me sometimes... but, just know I love these kisses of ours."

- Ace Trappola -

        Ace leaves your lips swollen and bruised, his own anxiety and insecurity is masked with a false confidence, fake it 'till you make it, ya know? He's all cocky smiles and boyish grins that makes your heart flutter in excitement or leave you wanting to ruin that stupidly pretty face of his. His lips are smoothed over with cherry chapstick, but they're slightly rough and swollen, his nervousness leaving him to bite his lip in response. He goes slack when your lips meet, allowing you to take what you want from him, leaving the responsibility and emotion to go whichever way you please. Slowly, as comfort sets into the relationship, a trust for him to speak his needs ( as well as gain more confidence ), he takes control of the kisses. They're lively and exciting, he often giggles into your kisses whenever you run your hands up/down his neck when moving to cup his face.

        "Come on, one more? Please? Heh, I know you want one as much as I do."

- Deuce Spade -

        His kisses are firm, tense, and yet you're melting against him once his hands move your body against his. He's desperate, needing more, like your kisses are repentance for his past. You can't help but smile into his kisses, feel comforted, safe, as if nothing could touch you. He holds a comfort in knowing he's kissing you, his best friend, his now lover who he doesn't plan to leave anytime soon. His lips are soft, but you can feel the smallest, faintest scar that trails vertically on the inside of his lower lip- peeking out ever so slightly. He always leaves his hands on you, pawing as you like fragile glass, leaving you to enjoy the taste of sugary sweetness as he pulls away.

        "Hm. Feels nice, I think... I think I want another... and another... and another..."

- Trey Clover -

        Trey is more reserved with his kisses, leaving small and quick pecks, never delving deeper in fear that one of his underclassmen may barge in to ruin the moment at any time. But what he lacks in quality, he makes up in quantity, consistently peppering you with small and quick kisses to your face, crown, neck- wherever he can reach at the moment of the kiss. They're light, leaving you smiling and laughing, the sound is the most valuable music to his ears. Passing by each other in the hallways? A quick grab at your hand and he leaves a kiss to your knuckles. Helping him around the kitchen? He's grateful and that pretty little crown gets a kiss each time you walk near him. Waking up next to him? He's trailing from your arm, up to your shoulder, neck, and settling on your jaw and lips- never truly rising from your skin at any moment, craving too much of you.

        "Hey there- oh, the flour! It's... hehe, it's all over you now! How cute~"

- Cater Diamond - 

        Fun, light, and leaving you light headed- Cater can't ever disappoint in kissing you. No shame in who sees him kissing you, but you better hope you have a tolerance to spices, seeing as this man is always snacking on them. His arms are thrown around you, his body practically dragging you around as he swings you both back and forth, giggles filling the air with a liveliness and obnoxious kissing sounds. He always hums with each kiss, the warmth filling that empty spot in his chest, leaving his head hazy for more.

        "Awe, come on~ Give me another kiss, don't be shy- what? No! Not the meme! Stop ruining the moment!"

[anne-i-write]

sweet love

| who would have known that the local bakery could get sebastian to show his soft spot |

sebastian moran x reader

word count: 3609

tw: sexual implications but no actual spice (mostly from sebastian’s “flirting”)

a/n: a little new years gift from me to all of you! i’m sorry it took so long to get another post up but i enjoyed writing this one! hopefully sebastian isn’t too ooc in this idk ig i just have a thing for making characters ooc but it’s very sweet and possibly tooth rotting. i also realize that i got carried away making this one and now you can read through my brain rot lol. ALSO APPARENTLY HES 6’6 THE MAN COULD ABSOLUTELY PUNT ME WHAT anyhow, i hope you all enjoy!! p.s. if you see grammatical errors and incoherent sentences, i just copy pasted from google docs lmao good luck

Sebastian grumbled under his breath, annoyed with the work that William had him do.

“‘Those who do not work in this house aren’t treated as people.’” Sebastian scoffed as he glanced over at the list. “Louis should be glad I’m on good terms with William.”

The ex-colonel should’ve been back at the estate an hour ago but he felt somewhat spiteful and decided to stay out longer. He had finished everything he needed but he had no clue what to do. It was already lunch and his stomach was silently growling but he refused to face the brothers just yet.

That was until he stopped in front of a quaint bakery with the words Fox’s Biscuits painted on a hanging sign.

“Isn’t this…” He looked at the bakery window, mouthwatering biscuits on display for everyone to see.

“These are the biscuits Father bought for me when I was younger.”

Longing for a sense of his childhood, Sebastian walked into the small shop.

In an instant, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate hit his nose and the bell above the door rang out. It was a small space but one could feel the dedication put into the little treats. “Hello?” Sebastian called out as soon as he realized he had been alone for at least two minutes.

“Just a moment!”

Crashes and clangs could be heard from behind a door that presumably led to a kitchen. You burst through the door, your apron stained with chocolate and your right cheek was covered in a light dust of flour.

Sebastian stared at you with wide eyes, not sure if he should focus on the disorderly ruin that was yourself or the absolute charm that you carried. “You have a little something—” He pointed to his cheek and your cute eyes widened a smidge.

You frantically turned around, swiping at both cheeks and turning around when you felt like you were clean. “How may I help you today?”

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat when you smiled widely, his cheeks feeling a little flush. He shook his head.

“Those biscuits by the door; how much are they?” You took a step to the side to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, it’s 10 shillings for each one.” You informed him, walking to the stacked treats with a cloth in hand. “How many would you like?”

A sly grin painted Sebastian’s features and he turned to face you. “3 pieces please.” You barely picked up the second biscuit before you felt a presence looming behind you. “Perhaps, I can have you too if I pay extra.” He whispered in your ear.

Heat spread across your face as you quickly shoved the rest of the biscuits in the small bag. You shoved the biscuits his way and held out your other hand expectantly. “Th-That’s 30 shillings!” You cursed the way you stuttered.

Sebastian laughed at your flustered state as he handed you the payment. He shot you a teasing glance.

“I can’t bake very well but I can show you how good I am with my hands.” Your eyes widened again at the implication and you shoved him towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming to our bakery!” You breathed out a sigh of relief. One patron down… only many more to come.

The ex-colonel swung the bag leisurely as he strode into the manor, forgetting about lunch. “Where were you, Sebastian?” Louis asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Getting myself food.”

The bell rang in your little family shop and you smiled, heading out to greet the next customer with freshly baked biscuits in hand.

“Good afternoon–” Your smile dropped when you realized who came into the bakery.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” Sebastian cooed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you not wish I would come back?”

“I wish you never came at all.” The man stilled for a moment but laughed when you walked past him to restock the display case. “You were here yesterday, were you not?” He turned to see you carefully placing the treats on the platter. “Yes but I’m here to buy more of those delicious biscuits you sell.”

Sebastian stalked closer to you just as you spun around to point the tray in his face. “Personal space, please.” He raised his hands in resignation and backed up. You walked back to the counter to place the warm tray on top. “You weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“I didn’t expect yesterday. Now, how many biscuits would you like?” Before he opened his mouth, you continued. “And buy enough so I don’t have to see you again.”

Sebastian laughed again, enjoying your quips. “You seem very spirited today, m’love.” You rolled your eyes. “Either you buy something or you can get out of the shop.” The man walked towards you but you stood your ground this time, arms crossed.

“Your biscuits are delicious but I bet you taste even better.” Your face heated up and Sebastian grinned. “Th-The way out is right behind you.”

Why do I always stutter?

“You’re adorable when you get shy on me.” You shot him a pointed glare and he chuckled. “I’ll have the whole display.” Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed the way your shy attitude appeared when he spoke.

“Th-The whole—” Sebastian chuckled and leaned on a nearby wall. “Yes, sweetheart; the whole case.” Of course, you needed the money but could the man even afford it?

“Th-That’s 100 shillings.” Sebastian took another glance at the display and shook his head. “Come now sweetheart, all of that is at least 600 shillings.” You shook your head.

“600 shillings is too much!” The thought of even getting mad at his previous words flew out of your head as he insisted on paying the full price. “Please, I’ll lower the price.”

Sebastian smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a satchel of coins. “It must have taken a painstakingly long time to make all those biscuits, it’s only right I pay you in full.” He placed the bag on the counter and you slid it back towards him. “I don’t have time to count 100 shillings! Please, that would be more than enough.”

This continued on for another ten minutes before he finally got you to settle on paying half of the original price.

“Enjoy your biscuits!” You called out to him just as the door barely closed behind him. Thankfully the door had a large glass pane and he turned around, offering a small wave before walking off.

You watched as he left the front of the shop and your eyes drifted to the empty display case.

“What in God’s name happened.”

Sebastian was aware that the last time he saw you was the other day, but he did comprehend that coming back the day after buying 60 biscuits would look rather odd. Telling Louis he had to run an errand in the town, the ex-colonel set off to your little bakery. Considering how empty it was the last two times he saw you, Sebastian expected it to be the same.

What he didn’t expect was a large crowd that seemed too big to be inside of the bakery.

Sebastian carefully opened the door and was greeted with the bustling sound of people chatting as they waited for their treats. Being the tall man he was, he searched for you in the crowd until he saw you rush out of the kitchen with your hair a complete mess.

“Thank you for being so patient, have a great day!” You said breathlessly and the patron nodded, wishing you well before leaving. They passed by Sebastian and he watched as they left the shop. He turned his attention back to you, who wore the same smile that made his heart stutter as you helped the next customer.

God only knows how long Sebastian was in the shop but the last customer left and you slumped against the counter. “Is that how you hold yourself in front of your patrons?” You groaned and he laughed.

“You bought 60 biscuits the other day and I still have to make the next batch, why are you back?” You glanced up at him and he shrugged. “Can I not wait for the biscuits?” You kept staring at him and he shot you a questioning glance.

“I can give you an estimated time for when the biscuits are done.” You yawned as you stood up and stretched. “I saw you come in a while ago, do you not have anywhere to be?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter and sighed. “Not today.”

Not having the energy to make him leave, you simply walked back into the kitchen and he watched as the door swung behind you.

It had been three minutes since you disappeared behind the doors and Sebastian was about to leave before you emerged from the kitchen. “If you’re staying until I make the next batch, then I want you to try this.” You said as you place down a small plate with two chocolate covered biscuits. “My father doesn’t know about these so I want to see if these taste good.” He took a glance at the plate and looked up at you.

“You couldn’t try them yourselves?” He asked as you stood across from him, arms folded. “I’d be favored to like them because I made them.” A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other.

“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.” An impressed look crossed Sebastian’s face as he picked up the biscuit and ate it. You watched closely as the man in front of you chewed your creation. “Is that jam and cream?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s indecent.” Sebastian snorted as he took another bite. “You sound like my mum.” You smiled softly as he started to reach for the second one.

“Keep staring like that, I might have to eat something else.” He said as he winked at you.

“Y-You—!”

Sebastian’s visits became routine and each time he came in, your day got a little better. You scoffed. Like you would ever tell him that.

“Darling!” Sebastian called out as he opened the door. “You know, I don’t even know your name and you’ve been coming here for two weeks.” You stated as you cleaned down the counter.

“Aw, you want to put a name to a face so you can moan it tonight?” He cooed and you slammed your towel down, flustered. “O-One day without suggesting those things! I-Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian laughed and you went back to furiously wiping down the counter.

He smiled as he walked towards you and placed his hand on yours. “If you keep scrubbing like that, the wood will wear down.” You sighed and relaxed your grip on the washing cloth. “Your hands are warm.” You said and he chuckled.

“The cloth’s gone cold.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realize.” Sebastian snorted and took the cloth out of your hands. “Here.” He took both of your hands and held them in his, breathing out slowly on them. He looked at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

If you were working yourself that much, he would make you take this short break to relax.

You looked up at your hands and suddenly felt shy at the intimate contact. “(Y/N),” you muttered, looking away.

Sebastian glanced up at you and huffed softly. “Sebastian.” You continued to let him warm up your hands.

A serene silence fell over the two of you as he exhaled softly on your hands.

That was until your sister barged into the shop, back from the market. “(Y/N)!” All three of you paused as you stared at each other. You watched as your sister’s eyes traveled from yours to your intertwined hands and you instantly flared up.

“I was just handing him biscuits!” You yelped, yanking your hands out of Sebastian’s. You looked at him and nodded your head towards the exit. “Thank you so much for coming!” Sebastian grinned and he leaned in closer to you. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

He knew he said this loud enough for you sister to hear. “Good day!” He smiled innocently, nodding to the girl by the door and walked out.

You watched as he left, not noticing your sister walking up and taking her place next to you. She watched with you as Sebastian walked away and took note of the subtle starry gaze in your eyes.

“Now I understand why you always want to watch the shop.”

You fidgeted as Sebastian walked into the shop once again. What was this? His 40th time at the shop? You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

I will ask him!

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Even through the teasing tone, you could hear some worry and you just decided to spit it out.

“Would you like to accompany me to the moorish dance tonight?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as you stared up at him with unintentionally large eyes. The man knew he had a persona to hold in front of you but felt himself failing as he struggled to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Only if you’ll accompany me to my bed tonight.” He watched as your eyes narrowed and you puffed out your chest, crossing your arms. “Forget I asked.” He laughed as you turned away from him. “I’m just playing around!” You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned away again.

“You’re pouting!”

“No I’m not!”

You two continued to bicker until he apologized, albeit through laughs. “I’m serious though, Sebastian.” He looked at you with a fond smile and he exhaled.

“I’d be honored.” You turned to face him with the same smile you used when you first greeted him, except this time it was wider and you looked like you were about to bounce over the counter. “But I really thought I would be the first to ask you.”

“Let customs lay themselves to rest for a bit, Sebastian.”

The dance was some time later at night so you decided to close shop early and walk around the town with Sebastian.

He had never seen you so talkative before and it was very interesting to see you speak without having to put him in his place every five minutes.

“So, do you and your sister run the bakery by yourselves?” Sebastian asked as you walked down the bustling road. “Lately. My father had been overworking himself so my sister and I decided to take over for him.” You smiled as a girl ran past your legs, her little brother following shortly after.

He watched on with a fond look as you continued talking about the bakery and all the baking mishaps that made you the person you were today. “That sounds like it requires a lot of effort.” You chuckled as you reached a secluded tree, not too far from the town but enough to be alone.

“It does, but the son of my father’s friend likes to help from time to time.” The sound of a possible competitor peaked his interest and sat down beside you on the grass. “The son of your father’s friend?” You nodded as you stared at the town and leaned on the tree.

“He’s a wonderful boy, very enthusiastic about helping me and my sister.” You turned to face him with an excited expression. “Oh, I’ll introduce you at the dance later! He’s helping the men set up but we should be able to see him!” The alpha male in Sebastian refused to let himself lose the one good thing he could possibly have in his life.

“You hid the whole jar?”

“Mrs. Pettor makes the best jams! I wasn’t going to let my family finish it!” Sebastian laughed as you defended yourself.

It was almost time for the dance and you both were walking to the town center.

“I’ve been talking all this time.” You realized and you turned to Sebastian. “Tell me more about—” You cut yourself off with a squeak as you were lifted off of your feet.

Sebastian watched as a blonde boy swung you around. “A-Alexander!” The boy put you down, a grin on his face.

The blond boy looked at you and you smiled back before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” You turned to face Sebastian and grinned. “Alexander, this is Sebastian! Sebastian, Alexander!” The shorter man held out his hand, blue eyes instantly hardening.

“Hello Sebastian,” Alexander said as Sebastian shook his hand. “Alexander.” You looked between the two and felt a tense aura emanating from them before you clapped your hands.

“Shall we go to the dance?” Alexander let go of Sebastian’s hand and immediately faced you. “Of course!” The blond grabbed your hand and you were barely able to get ahold of Sebastian’s before Alexander took off running.

Cheers and music filled the air and the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed throughout the streets. Despite knowing most of the faces, you spent most of your time talking with Sebastian about stories from each of your lives.

“(Y/N)!” You turned your head and saw Alexander heading towards you, out of breath and sweaty from dancing. You excused yourself from the conversation and Alexander stopped in front of you. “I never did thank you for working more than you should have these last few days.” You laughed as you waved him off. “It’s nothing you should thank me for, Alexander. My sister helped so it wasn’t all bad.”

Alexander took a glance at Sebastian, who had been mobbed by most of the town women and looked like he was trying to hold his own. “Would you like to dance?” His question caught you off guard. “I invited Sebastian, I couldn’t leave him…” You turned to see a group of girls crowding around the man and your smile faltered. “One dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Sebastian!” He looked up from the group of girls and saw you waving. He was about to move until he saw your hand in Alexander’s. “I’m going to dance for a bit!” You laughed as Alexander pulled you to the dance area. Alexander chuckled at you as you told Sebastian of your whereabouts. At least you had the decency to tell him you were dancing with another man.

“So how’d you meet Sebastian?” Alexander asked as you danced to the music. “He came into the shop one day and just kept visiting!” You smiled and the boy in front of you exhaled softly, deciding to drop the topic and talk to your sister about it later.

The former colonel no longer focused on the girls in front of him as he watched you laugh hard at something Alexander said and his heart beat faster in his chest. Out of jealousy or awe, he couldn’t tell. But the way your eyes shone under the golden glow of the street lamps told him to move and get you.

He pushed his way through the crowd of ladies and kept his eyes trained on your carefree figure. Your skin looked so beautiful under this light, maybe you were the one who lit up the town. Your smile alone had enough energy to do so anyway.

“May I have a dance with (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked as he reached you and Alexander. The blond man smiled and your eyes sparkled in delight. “Of course.” Alexander gently let go of your hand and placed it in Sebastian’s.

“Thank you Alexander!” You called out and he turned around, sending you a soft smile and a small wave before walking towards your sister.

You turned your gaze back to Sebastian and you grinned. “Did you get jealous?” Sebastian scoffed before shaking his head. “I don’t get jealous.” You laughed as you felt Sebastian pull you closer. “I saw you looking at Alexander like he was going to steal me away.” You pointed out with a smug smile.

“He did steal you away.” You grinned at him.

“You’re pouting.”

“N-No I’m not!” You laughed and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink. “Aw, you’re adorable when you get shy on me!” You cooed, using the exact same words he said to you a while back.

“You—” He picked you up by the waist and you squealed as he lifted you up. “You think you’re so smart.” He muttered as he placed you back down and you looked up at him, your skin shining from sweat and short breaths leaving your lips.

He instantly leaned in, placing a short kiss on your lips and your eyes widened before trying to chase him before he pulled away. “You do taste better than your biscuits.” You buried your head in Sebastian’s chest in embarrassment and he laughed as he started to lead the dance once more.

“Because of that, I’m charging you the rest of the 60 biscuits you bought.” Sebastian feigned hurt. “But that’s too much!” You rolled your eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m sure if you don’t want to pay, Louis can help me find something for you to do to pay me back.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and you giggled at the sour look on his face. “I’m sure you can help around the shop to pay them off, if you don’t want Louis to get involved.” His eyes softened before gently grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss to it.

“If it means I get to see you everyday, it will have been worth it.”

tags: @zoehanji @infinitebells

[skzsauce01]

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin) 

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

[nelapanela94]

Of ginger and cranberries

Fluff!

LevixYou

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was a cold Sunday morning of early winter. You were walking through the market stalls looking for the most important ingredient for your ginger cookies: ginger. The town's main square was crowded, the bustling sound was getting louder and the smell coming from the different food stalls engulfed the place. People were gathering supplies for the upcoming new year celebration that would take place within a week.

After stopping by several stalls without success, you found an empty bench and took a seat. Walking around with a heavy jute bag on the shoulder was exhausting, and you deserved a rest. You placed your cane next to your leg where you could feel it and put the groceries bag on you lap just to make sure ginger was the only ingredient missing.

As soon as you opened it, a smell of cloves and cinnamon greeted your nose making you smiled. That's how winter is supposed to smell. Putting your hand in the bag, you hissed. The only thing you hated about winter was wearing mittens. Hands were the eyes for people like you, and having them covered make you double blinded. You took one of the mittens off and proceeded to check the content.

Flour. Checked.

Sugar. Checked.

Eggs. Checked.

Butter. Checked.

Cinnamon and cloves. Double checked.

You put the mitten on again before your hand froze and rolled your neck to stretch, placed the bag strap on your left shoulder and took the cane to continue your quest. Ginger was not slipping away from you; but the smell of freshly-baked cranberry pie filled the air forcing you to take a little detour. Your pace fastened following the source of the sweet, luring scent; however, someone blocked your way and in matter of seconds your bottoms hit the cobblestone ground. You whined, and your hand patted your surroundings looking for your guide.

"Tsk. Are you blind? Watch your step, brat" You heard and turned the head towards the voice's source. The man you had bumped into turned around and facepalmed inwardly.

"Sorry, but you're right, as you can see I am blind" You chuckled and waved a hand in front of your face. Levi sighed extending a hand and 'tched'' at himself when he realized his idiocy, you could not see his gesture.

"Give me your hand" He ordered.

You raised your hand in front of you, waited for him to take it and stood up with his aid. "Thanks" You smiled at him, or so you thought.

"I'm right here" The man lifted a brow crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh" You turned towards the voice and thanked again.

Fortunately, all the ingredients were safe and sound in the bag, even the eggs. Nonetheless, your cane was still missing.

"Do you know where my cane is? I couldn’t find it" He looked around and found the stick broken in two. "I don't think it'll take you anywhere" he replied.

"Holy Walls!" You scratched your head and sighed. "Hey, stranger, are you free until noon?"

"I have no intention of becoming your guide" He harshly responded.

"But... would you let this poor, blind girl wander around on her own?" You sniffled with your bottom lip jutting out.

"Alright" He rolled the eyes. "What's our next stop?" You celebrated your little victory by throwing your arms in the air. Levi, indeed, was free until dinner time. Hange and the others had kicked him out of the headquarters and told him not to be back before seven bells. That's why he decided to go to the market and try his luck finding rare herbs and special blends.

"Wait, I'm not supposed to leave with strangers" You said adjusting your woolen cap. "I'm (name)"

"Levi"

"Pretty name" you noted. "Well Levi, I'm on a special mission to find ginger; but first, we must make a strategic stop at the cranberry pies stall" He took your hand and placed it right above his elbow. "Thanks" You muttered and gently squeezed his arm, feeling the muscle beneath his coat.

"Oi!"

"Sorry about that" You lowered your head in embarrassment, your cheeks getting warm. "but, you feel good" You mumbled. Levi snorted and shook his head, the corner of his lips lifted. "You're not bad looking yourself"

You lifted your head batting your lashes in a flirtatious manner and leaned closer to him. "You think so? Well, you're good looking too" You laughed. "No, but seriously, your voice is really attractive and I like the smell of fresh lavender of your hair"

Your words made him blush slightly.

As you walked, Levi studied you and found odd that your coat, cap, mittens, scarf and boots were all the same blue color. "Who picks up your clothes? An eight-year-old?"

"A ten-year-old actually. But my winter clothing is all blue because it's my favorite color, and I don't have to waste time matching each piece"

"So, you know about colors" His curiosity sparked.

"Yeah, I wasn't born blind. I lost my eyesight due to an infection when I was a child" you explained. "At first, I felt insecure and vulnerable, but as I grew up I started to accept my reality and learnt to adapt. Besides, I've been blessed with the people I've come across, they're always willing to help." you smiled.

You reached the pastry sale and bought two pies to go. You wanted to surprise your older brother, and if you were lucky enough, he would forget about your broken cane;  the other one was all for you.

"Aw, you two make a good couple" The old lady commented while packing the sweet treats, making you blush hard. Luckily, you couldn't see the red shade creeping across your companion's face.

"We're not dating" You stated in unison. Levi shoved his hands in his pockets and his eyes darted around while you toyed with a lock of hair.

"I thought someone had finally stolen Captain Levi's heart" The elder woman winked and handed the bags to the ravenette. "Have a good day!"

When you were on your way to get the spice for your recipe, you were first to break the silence. "Captain Levi from the Survey Corps? Humanity's Strongest Soldier?"

"Are you a fangirl?" He lifted a brow looking at you.

"Nope, not me. My nephew is the fanboy" A chuckled scape your lips. "He wants to join the Scouting Legion when he grows older. My brother is not so happy, though." You shrugged.

Once you found the final ingredient, Levi offered to take you home. You didn’t live far from the main square and, even though you insisted you knew the way by heart, he didn't feel like taking any risk. In truth, he wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. In such brief time, he had fallen into your spell. It might have been your looks, or your charismatic, cheerful personality; or perhaps the combination of both. He wasn't sure about his feelings, but he wanted to learn more about you.

You didn't want to say goodbye either. The little time you had spent with him had sparked your curiosity. You had heard the rumors about Captain Levi, but you knew there was more behind his unfriendly personality and sarcastic remarks. There was more behind that hard shell and you were willing to crack it.

"Here" he handed you the two bags of pies and only released his grip when he made sure you had them secured in each hand.

"This one is for you" you kept one of your arms extended in front of you for him to grabbed the bag. "Happy Birthday Captain Levi"

Levi was taken aback and shyly took the craft paper bag from your hand. "Thanks, but..."

"I told you my nephew is a fanboy, and that lady said cranberry pies are one of your favorites"

You remained silent for a while; you opened your mouth then closed it again, as you regretted what you were about to say. Your heart was beating fast, and the warm feeling invaded your cheeks again. You removed your mittens off and put them in your pockets. With your bare hands you took your necklace off and walked closer to him, patting his coat until you found a pocket and put the piece of jewelry inside.

"What are you doing?" He asked squinting his eyes.

"I'm making sure we'll meet again. You already know where I live, all you have to do is to knock on my door"

"Clever brat" He admitted.

"And, I'm giving myself an excuse to touch you" You winked.

Levi leaned closer and whispered to your ear. "You better have freshly baked cookies for the day I come back"

"Count on it" you grinned.

After that day, you woke up every morning to make a batch of your best recipe of ginger cookies, yearning for his return.

[laviethepooh]

pumpkin bread and naps | ganyu x reader [pt. 5 halloween event ‘21]

summary. you and ganyu bake some pumpkin bread. why? because ganyu is overworking herself and needs to take a break.

ft. ganyu ft. ningguang

cw. modern!au

wc. 1.1k

notes. take a break by reading this oneshot >:(( you guys are probably overworking yourselves. and if you’re already taking a break, then good! using my hc that ningguang can’t type and uses text-to-speech it literally gives me life (i am so sorry ningguang lovers-) anyway, enjoy <3

ganyu had been working for 10 hours nonstop without taking a single break. she had been sitting at her desk the whole time, working on her computer. you knew that ningguang had been giving them more work than usual since it was getting busier lately, but ganyu had been working overtime everyday. you felt that she spent more time working than taking care of herself.

you sat at your own computer, playing some video games, when you felt your phone notify you of a message.

ningguang: hello y/n. please tell gone you to take a break from working. she has not eaten lunch yet. thank you. (11:43) me: sure thing ningguang! (11:43)

you got up from your seat and went down to where ganyu’s office was and knocked gently on the door. you could hear her typing away at her keyboard, but from behind the door, you could hear her gentle voice call, “come in.” you opened the door to see her turned around in her chair. she gave you a small smile and you walked over to where her desk was. she seemed to be working on a graph of some sort that was too complicated for you to understand.

“ganyu, you need to eat something,” you urged.

“i’ll be there to eat, just give me some time to finish up-” you cut her off before she could finish.

“ganyu, you said that four hours ago. you really need to eat, this isn’t good for you.”

she looked at you for a moment, reading your worried expression, and closed her laptop. “hmm, alright. what are we having for lunch today?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but then closed it again. you hadn’t even made the lunch yet. and from what you remembered, the fridge was completely empty. ganyu noticed your reaction and correctly guessed that there wasn’t any food to eat.

“allow me to check the pantry and perhaps we can make something,” she suggested as the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

after rummaging through the fridge and pantry, you had only found food to make a bread of some kind. ganyu had declared that there were some pumpkin puree in the pantry and you had plenty of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. perhaps you would make some pumpkin bread, even if it would take a while. ganyu might not enjoy being away from work for such a long period of time, but everyone needed to take a break sometimes.

the two of you got to work immediately, searching for a good pumpkin bread recipe. when you finally found one that would be able to be made with the ingredients you had, you got your mixing bowl and whisks and started. unsurprisingly, ganyu was very adept at measuring perfectly and following the instructions properly. she let you work on the mixing which you didn’t mind. however, when ganyu wasn’t looking, you took a (clean) finger and tasted the batter. naturally, it tasted like pumpkins.

at one point, you accidentally hit the bag of whole wheat flour with your elbow causing the fine light brown powder to dust both you and ganyu. ganyu seemed to accidentally get some in her nose because she sneezed. which, by the way, was the most adorable thing you had ever heard and you didn’t even know it was a sound that someone was capable of making until now.

after you had finished mixing the batter all together, it was finally time to pour it into the pans. luckily, before pouring, ganyu remembered to lightly grease the pans. you watched the orange mixture flow from the bowl and into the pan. you had found an unused loaf pan that you had forgotten about that had a pattern of pumpkins and acorns and other autumnal things on the bottom.

“i can’t wait to taste it,” ganyu expressed excitedly after you put the batter into the oven, “i hope it tastes good!”

“me too,” you sighed as you flopped onto the couch, “we spent quite a bit of time on that.”

to pass the time, you let ganyu fall asleep on your lap while you watched something on the tv. the moment her head hit your lap, her eyes shut and her breaths slowed to a steady pace, her chest undulating. as she was sleeping, you mindlessly stroked her hair which was incredibly soft. seeing her all comfortable made you want to let her sleep a little while longer, but the timer that you set eventually went off. ganyu immediately sat up and barely avoided hitting your face.

the two of you went over to the oven and you grabbed your gloves to take the loaf out of the oven. the moment you opened the oven door, you were hit with the sweet smell. it was warm and filled you with nothing but the feeling of autumn. you were extremely careful to not burn yourself in any way. you took a chopstick and poked a hole into the top of the loaf. when it came out, it was completely clean indicating that it was thoroughly cooked.

ganyu clapped happily. “oh! i’m so excited to see how the pattern turned out!”

you let the loaf cool for a few minutes. in the meantime, you brewed some tea for the two of you. ganyu had recently received a box of white tea which smelled a bit floral. you poured it into your favorite autumnal mugs and handed one to ganyu. the steam wafted throughout the small room mixing with the scent of the pumpkin bread.

now that the bread was finished, you brought it over to where you and ganyu were seated. you carefully flipped the now-cool pan over onto a plate. you shook it slightly and the bread slid out on its own easily. you lifted the pan off and ganyu let out a small gasp.

it had turned out perfectly. each delicate detail from the pattern was visible. you took a knife and slowly cut two pieces for yourself and ganyu (but not before taking some pictures because it was amazing).

you took a bite of it and you were immediately hit with the soft spiced pumpkin flavor. if autumn had a flavor, it would be this exact taste. it tasted warm and when paired with the tea, you felt cozy. you looked to see ganyu savoring the bread with her eyes closed. when she opened them, she met your staring eyes and immediately turned bright red. she hit you playfully, clearly embarrassed that you had caught her enjoying the food. the two of you eventually laughed it off though and continued to enjoy the bread in a comfortable silence. the thought of work was completely absent from your heads.

even if the break was only 2 hours out of what was basically a 24 hour work period, you were glad that ganyu was able to escape for even a little bit. being in each others company with some good food left you in a pleasant mood, and you could already see that ganyu was starting to nod off. not long after, she fell asleep on the couch and you placed a flannel blanket over her. you took a seat beside her and went onto your phone.

me: hey ningguang, ganyu’s taking a small break, is that alright? (1:36) ningguang: yes. that sounds good for gone you. thank you, y/n. (1:37)

soft snores filled the air as you too eventually fell asleep.

[sylvain-writes]

Cold Pizza (Raphael x Gender Neutral Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral Reader, power outage, banter, light angst and fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, Raph can cook <5k words

*

Snow falls gently upon the city outside your window, and it should be calm. You should want to listen to soft jazz or something. You should be sipping tea and enjoying the sight. But instead you're stifling a laugh at the sound of Raphael swearing behind you as he stubs his toe in the dark.

"Shit. Why the hell is that in the middle of the floor?"

"It's a coffee table, Raph. It's in front of the couch same as always." You haven't redecorated the apartment in months, but it's only Raph's second visit. You can't really blame him for not knowing the layout of the place by heart. But he's a ninja, isn't he? Shouldn't he be better at finding his way through the shadows?

The table scrapes against the hardwood floor as he drags it back into place and you snicker into the sleeve of your long-sleeve tee. The building only lost power ten minutes ago but your hands are already getting cold.

The crinkle of the last bag of potato chips gets louder as Raphael comes up behind you. "Don woulda neva let this happen."

"Really?" You huff. "Donatello wouldn't have let the blizzard get so bad that it took down the power lines?"

"Well, he woulda made sure the generator was workin', but no. That's not what I'm talkin' about." He crunched and munched in your ear.

As payback for the purposefully annoying chew, you snagged a chip out of his hand and gnashed your teeth over it hard. Crumbs fell to the ground and he snarled, shaking his head.

"You heathen. This is the last of the food! Your cupboards are bare."

"My cupboards? Ok, grandma..." You don't hide your snicker this time. "There's canned soup and, like, other stuff in the pantry, dude. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"We can't turn on the stove if there's no power, genius."

"It's a gas oven, genius."

"I don't know what difference that makes, Einstein."

"It means all I need is a lighter and I can ignite the gas, Einstein."

"Well, you don't smoke, Edison."

"Valid. But I do have a lighter. It's in a drawer somewhere."

It does take another ten minutes to actually find the lighter, in your nightstand, having been tossed there after you used it to light some candles in your room forever ago. And even after you find it, you set a pot of water to boil only to have Raphael complain that he can't find the pasta you were sure was in the pantry.

"Well, what is in there?" you ask as you light a few more candles around the kitchen.

Raphael places a jar of tomato sauce on the counter, but his tone remains unimpressed. "Flour and shit."

"That's fucking gross."

"You know what I mean." Raphael opened the cabinet door wide. "Flour, sugar, salt... I don't know. Like, a thousand different jars of seasonings you've probably never used ever."

"How do you know I've never used them?"

"Probably because they've all got their plastic seals on?"

"Right. I don't really cook that much."

Raphael gestures to the otherwise empty shelves. "I'm shocked."

"Well..." You pass the jar of tomato sauce you were going to use for the pasta you actually don't have from one hand to the other as you think. "There's gotta be something. Grab the cereal, at least."

The Honey Nut Cheerios barely have a bowl left. It's hard to ignore it when Raphael's stomach growls.

"Ok, ok. Maybe we should order take out?" But as you form the question, you notice something more than hunger and frustration in the way Raphael wraps his arms around himself. "You feeling alright?"

"Sure." Raphael shrugs, and though you have to squint in the evening's fading light, you think he looks a little paler than usual.

"Raph?"

He's the master of compartmentalizing and hiding his feelings -- until they bubble over into a fiery mess -- but he's utter crap at suppressing the shiver that runs through his arms while you're staring.

"Dude… you're sick or something."

"I'm not," Raph says, relaxing his arms from around his body to his sides, but his shoulders remain tense. His arms stay tucked tight against his sides. "I'm fine. There's nothin' to say. We're stuck here. Right?"

"Call Donnie."

"He can't… he can't come out in this weather."

"The weather?" The winds had died down. And yeah, the drifts were pretty high in some parts of the city, but it was dark enough that- "Are you too cold?"

Raphael shrugs.

You move closer to him, reaching out, and his arm under your hand feels cold to the touch. "Raph…"

He leans into your touch a second longer than he wants to, chasing the heat as you pull your hand away. You're close friends, but you don't go around holding onto each other or anything. The way he chases the warmth of your hand, the small needy sound in his throat, breaks you inside.

"It’s why we got generators at the lair. They mostly run on street power Donnie got hooked up, but… don't do so well in the cold, y'know?"

"Shit. I'm sorry." You turn on another burner and fill another pot of water. "Can you, uh, get in touch with D? I know there's a way to get the oven going but I, er, don't wanna blow up the apartment in the process."

Raph nods and you notice another shiver. He hunches in on himself as he thumbs out a text to his brother.

While he's occupied, you rush over to the living room and grab a blanket from the couch. You're not sure he wants to admit just how cold he is, so you don't wrap it around his shoulders yourself, but you place it on the counter with purpose and head into the bedroom to find a heavier sweater for yourself. And some socks. You definitely need to double up your socks. And shit, maybe you should offer Raph some socks too.

But what the hell socks do you have that'll fit him?

You grab the comforter from your bed and hug a pair of pillows to your chest. The way to the livingroom causes you to stumble and you know you're not looking the cutest you've ever looked when you crash into the couch with your load, but you manage to grunt like a buffoon when you bounce off the couch cushions and land hard on the floor.

"Graceful." Raphael says from the kitchen counter. He saunters over, wrapped up in the blanket, wearing it like a shawl and looking ever so much like a reptilian version of the big bad wolf pretending to be grandma.

"My, what big eyes you have." You kid, and you smirk, but color blooms high on Raphs cheeks and you watch him duck his head just a bit as he tries not to break your gaze.

"They um… they're the same as always , y'know?"

From there on the floor, you look up at him and wonder when he became so shy. He's been your best friend for ages. He's muscles and bravado. He's a ninja skill set and a heart of gold. He's fire and sugar and the kind of spicy that'll catch you on fire if you stay too close, but you always want to be close to him and you know one day you're going to get burned. It's why you don't touch. It's why you point to the blankets and pillows on the couch and you back away from the pile so he can get them himself.

You know if you get too close. If you let yourself linger near him, you'll stay too long. You'll get burned. What's between you simmers when you keep your distance. That's good. That's better. You don't want him to push you away, so it's better to keep some distance. He hasn't pulled you closer, so you think you're doing the right thing. If you were reading this wrong, there would have been some clue. Someone would have said something. Raph would have said something. He's not one to mince words about what he wants.

He's very much the guy who tells you what he wants when he wants it.

"Don says we can light the pilot and have the gas oven heat the room, but you're gonna have to do it because my hands are too big."

"Know what they say about a man with big hands?"

Raphael crosses his arms over his chest, unamused. "Woulda lit the damn thing myself if my hands were smaller so it don't really matter what people say about big hands. At the moment these big hands are useless."

"Geez, Raph," you scoot around him to get at the oven. "You're not useless. Chrissake."

The oven lights and you crank it up to 500°F. "We can leave the door open a crack and let it warm the room."

"Or we can make pizza."

"Sure. Yeah." You say, dripping with sarcasm. "We could totally learn how to make pizza in the dark with no electricity or ingredients."

"We don't got no ingredients." Exasperated, Raphael throws off the blanket and gestures toward the pantry. "You got spices. Sauce. Flour."

"What about cheese?" Your hands are on your hips and your toe is tapping because you just know he's going to come after your snacks.

"I saw like 7000 Polly-O string cheese things in your crisper drawer-"

"Don't touch my string cheese!" He wouldn't dare.

"We can grate it down for-"

"You monster!"

Raphael is more snarl than laugh when he crows, "You're being ridiculous! I'm making pizza. Are you in?" His gaze narrows and you think he may be serious about tossing you out of the kitchen. "Or are you just in my way?"

As it's the only warm room in the apartment, you're ready to make all the sacrifices necessary to keep your ass in the kitchen.

Raphael and his big hands leave you at a loss as he uses his thick fingers to ever so delicately arrange his phone against the tomato sauce jar. “Sit still ya lil fucker.” With each adjustment he makes, the phone slides down the counter, unwilling to stand in place so that he can read the recipe without getting his phone dirty with sticky doughy hands.

You shouldn’t just stand there watching with a grin, but you really can’t help it. It’s adorable. You really think you may be falling in love with him just watching the way he shifts the phone inch by inch. Then when he finally has the phone in place, he throws his hands up in the air, victory writ large upon his features. His smile is open and wide and it’s such a stark contrast to see him now, his body flooded with joy and warmth as opposed to when he was near frozen, that you can’t help but smile back. You’re a little thrown by just how charming that smile can be. You lock eyes and get stuck. He’s so handsome. He’s so true to himself. He’s just real and raw and he doesn’t care that this is only a tiny victory of some phone vs man vs counter slip ridiculousness. He’s excited and he lets you join him in this celebration because it’s fun and it doesn’t have to mean anything more than fun.

You shake your head as you grab the flour from the pantry and place it on the counter. “One small step for a man, one giant leap toward making a pizza. We actually need to get some ingredients in a bowl, methinks.”

Raphael takes the flour and tears the never opened bag open from the top. He’s obviously never done it before. Flour ends up everywhere and you don’t even bother to tell him that he could have easily unfolded the flour bag and made far less mess.

As you watch his flour dusted face reemerge from the plume of flour, you’re actually glad you didn’t mention it. Or else you wouldn’t have had the chance to see him look so surprised. To surprise a ninja, now that had to be some kind of feat.

Raphael’s green eyes blink at you, stark contrast green from the white floured face around them. His mask is caked in the stuff. You laugh as you reach forward. “May I?”

He hasn’t really said yes, but he’s spoken no objection either, so you slide the mask over his head and dust it off before laying it on the counter.

Seeing him without his mask is always a pleasure. One of the small pleasures you don’t mention out loud. Like standing too close, it runs the risk of being burned. Something Raphael could take away if you make too big a deal of it. So, you try not to stare, while simultaneously trying to memorize every bump and slope of his features.

“You’re a real mess,” you say, wiping Raph’s cheek with a clean hand. “How much of this flour are we gonna lose before you whip up dinner, huh?”

Raphael has been staring at you. He hasn’t even been paying attention to your words. In fact, he’s not sure you’re speaking. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion because your hands are reaching toward him for the second and third time today and that never happens. That never happens and Raph knows for sure because he pays attention to that sort of thing. He notices when you come close because he waits for it. He wishes for it. He clocks each step you take toward him and bites back a pout each time you pull away.

When your hands reach for his mask, he doesn’t know what to say, so he stays still. And you unmask him. And the world doesn’t stop turning, but it sure feels like all of the air has been sucked from the room. But you’re smiling, so he knows nothing bad has happened.

You’re smiling so the world is still spinning.

His mask is in your hands and flour is falling to the floor like weightless raindrops and he can almost make out your laughter past the sound of his own thoughts. There’s nothing Raphael loves more than his time with you. The sound of your voice. The curve of your smile. The barely visible sunburst of silver under the pigment of your iris.

He shouldn’t know about that design. He shouldn’t pay such close attention to your eyes that it would be plastered in his memory. But he has. He does. He watches you when you’re not paying attention. When you’re playing around with his brothers or working at your computer. He watches the light reflect off your eyes. He could map the lines of your irises. And that’s probably weird. He’s no artist. He knows that. He can’t do flowery words or paint a picture. But he has a mind like a steel trap. He remembers everything about you.

So, when you tease him about making dinner, he knows you’re probably thinking about your own lack of culinary experience. You’re worried about screwing things up and probably relieved that Raphael is a little clumsy himself.

Raph uses this to his advantage, to make things a little easier for you. With a kind smile, he points to the cabinets. “I need a mixing bowl and some measuring cups. Oil, salt, and sugar. And yeast. We need yeast.”

“Yeah. OK. Like I have fucking yeast up in this bitch.”

Raphael hums and turns. He’s pretty sure he saw something that looked suspiciously like yeast in the cabinet. And there, on the row with all of the other unused herbs and spices, was a jar of the stuff. “You really suck at this.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Don’t I know it.” There’s no way to argue around it.

Taking orders from Raphael isn’t a turn on or anything. You’re not getting goosebumps from his praise or hanging on his every word like it’s the air that you breathe. But he’s standing close and the way his breath is warmer than the air around you makes your blood feel like it’s thrumming through your veins a little more quickly tonight than it was just minutes ago.

Standing in front of the open oven is hot work. You don’t know much about dough, but you’ve watched enough Great British Bake Off to know this rise is going to happen fast in the hot kitchen.

“We should close the oven door,” you suggest. “Get the inside temperature right and let the dough do it’s thing before we shape it and sauce it up and stuff.”

“Wow, that’s a lotta we talk. You sure you’re up to the task? Thought you were taking more of a supervisory role, here.”

“I grated the cheese, didn’t I?”

“You made more wine than cheese, sweetheart.”

“Yes, well, it was my favorite snack.”

“It’s sacrifice will be worth it.”

The pizzas only took about ten minutes in the oven before the dough was crispy, the cheese not quite burned, and the sauce was bubbly hot. Raphael moved them onto the bare countertop to cool. “So, we keepin’ the oven on or?”

“Of course we can.” You glance at the oven and then at the pile of blankets and pillows in the living room. “Can’t we?”

“I could ask Don? Seems like the power could be out all night. Not sure we should leave the oven on indefinitely.”

“Well… we’ll figure that out after we eat, I guess.”

Eating was weird. You sat close, sharing the light of a candle to make sure you weren’t dripping sauce all over yourselves. Your elbows nudged each other as you moved and you had to stop yourself from shifting further away each time. It would look suspicious. You weren’t close because you wanted to be, because you desired to be as close to Raphael as physically possible without fear of your feelings being known… you were sitting elbow to elbow with him now because you needed to. He wasn’t going to read anything into it.

“You have sauce on your chin.”

“I what?”

“Sauce,” Raphael said, quieter than you expect from him. Perhaps he worries about shouting in your face. Things do seem louder in the dark. So then why does he sound like he’s whispering?

“Oh. Yeah. The sauce is good, Raph. You, uh, know your way around that spice rack.”

“Nah, I mean…” Raphael shakes his head good naturedly and sighs before lifting his thumb to your chin. He takes your face in his hand as he drags his thumb over your chin, wiping your skin clean with a smooth drag of his thumb.

“Raph?” You suck in a breath and you catch his gaze. He’s squinting at you as you struggle to make sense of his sudden closeness.

When he pulls away, you watch as he wipes his hand on his shorts. “You had sauce. Ya know? It was uh, just there.”

“Oh!” You wipe at the spot Raph has already cleaned, your cheeks and ears growing hot. “I… thanks.”

“Yeah, no prob.” Raphael clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He’s still not wearing his mask, so each twitch of his eyes is out in the open. But you wonder if it’s a trick of the light, him looking embarrassed and unsure.

“The blankets and stuff. I was gonna say we should tuck under them. I don’t know about you, but that oven’s been off for a minute and I’m already feeling like-”

“The blankets are good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Raph says, swallowing hard. “The cold makes me a little tired, you know?”

You shrug. You suppose it makes sense. You feel a little tired yourself. “You could sleep. Do you mind if I share the couch with you? That’s my stuff from my room.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I mean. I don’t mind sharin’. Donatello says humans run hot?”

“Compared to you?” You know you probably shouldn’t joke about something like this when Raphael was vulnerable, but you always joke about everything. To not joke about this feels like it would make things worse, make them mean more, give the vulnerability more weight than if you treat it the same as everything else. “Yeah. I guess. We’re warm-blooded.” It feels weird to refer to humans as we and the turtles as they. You rarely think of yourself as different from them. You haven’t thought of them as other than the guys for so long. “It’s um…”

“Yeah, so, like sharing would be fine. It’s cool.”

“You wanna use my body, Raph? That what this is about? You tryin’ to steal my heat? My human fire?”

“Are you kidding?”

“About mi fuego humano?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Baby you can light my fire.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You wanna sleep with a stranger! For shame!”

“Don’t slut shame me. I never slut shame you.”

“Yeah ok, sure, dude.”

“What? I don’t.”

“Uh, you crap on every guy I’ve ever been out with.”

“No, I don’t. No I haven’t.”

Suddenly all the joking isn’t fun. Because if Raphael can’t see how hard you’ve tried to get over him. How hard you’ve tried to move past your feelings for him, feelings that he so very clearly does not reciprocate, then you really don’t want to play this game anymore.

You stand up and move to the couch. You won’t deny him your body heat if that’s what he needs, but you don’t think you can carry on this conversation. By the time he gets to the blankets, they’ll be warm, you think. Then maybe you can have a minute to yourself.

Raphael follows you to the living room in quiet contemplation. “I hate the guys you date.”

“Great. They were real winners anyway so, thanks for running them off. Never did stand a chance with them.”

“They weren’t good enough for you.”

“Pfft.” He doesn’t get it. None of them were good enough, yeah. Because every guy you’ve ever talked to, ever listened to talk about their hobbies and dreams and hopes and family, every guy who has ever taken an interest in you, you’ve compared to Raphael. And every one of them has come up short.

“You know how good you are? Like, a good person. Not like 'tries to be good' or 'does the right thing' kinda good…”

“Gee thanks, big guy. I’m blushing.”

Raphael turns to face you on the couch, his back braced against the arm rest and honest to god shoves you with his bare foot. You can’t help but notice his toes are ice cold. “What I’m saying is you’re the 'real' good. A good heart. You do the wrong shit for the right reasons kinda good. You hurt because you care, yet you still care.”

You let Raph ramble because you don’t know what you’d say if you stopped him, if you acknowledge the things that he says. You let Raph ramble and you pull his ice cold foot into your lap under the blankets. You warm it in your hands. Maybe it should be gross. He’s been walking around the apartment since early this afternoon barefoot. But it’s just feet. Just skin. Just flesh and bone and it’s all so cold between your palms.

Raphael scoots down against the armrest, just a little so that his foot is resting comfortably in your lap. He turns away from you to look at an alert on his phone, all the while still talking about how good you were when you tried to help Leo with his attempt to try every flavor of Pringles that you could find at the gas station mini mart. It was a valiant attempt and Leo didn’t want to do it alone. You both ended up with pretty bad indigestion, but it was fun and Raphael had seemed extra happy to see Leo making a friend and being a total idiot with you.

“Donatello says the power should be up and running again sometime tonight. There was an update on the website or something.”

“They give updates on this shit?”

“I guess?”

Your hands move to Raphael’s other foot as you nod. “I don’t really like the guys I date either,” you admit aloud. “It’s not that I set out ready to dump them, it’s just that they don’t interest me. I try to get to know them, I try to let them get to know me. But it goes nowhere. I don’t get that feeling, you know?”

Raphael’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t answer.

You think maybe he doesn’t know that feeling. Maybe he doesn’t feel romantic attraction the way you do. “Raph, have you ever-”

“I don’t like it.”

You nod, thinking you’ll get more out of him if you stay silent. But when he doesn’t elaborate, you realize you have to say something. “You don’t like…”

“All those guys goin’ out with ya. They don’t know ya. They don’t treat ya the way ya should be treated.”

“Really? How do they treat me?”

“Like… like… They don’t let ya let go. I see ya going off with them and you go quiet or you laugh too loud.”

“I’m too quiet. I’m too loud. Which is it, Raph?”

“You deserve somebody who lets ya have fun. You make jokes and goof off and sometimes yeah it’s cause you’re nervous but mostly it’s cause ya have funny shit goin’ on in ya head and ya wanna let me in on the joke.”

You nod. You really do think you’re the most hilarious person on the fucking planet. It’d be a shame to keep all the good stuff to yourself. Even so, you don’t share your thoughts with just anybody. Raphael is right, it’s him who you want to let in.

“If I took ya out, it’d be like tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah.” You say thoughtfully, sarcastically, poking fun and rubbing at your chin not caring a whit that you just had Raphael’s feet in your hands. “Like tonight. You’d cut the power to the city so we could freeze our asses off, then set up a super romantic dinner where we eat by candlelight.”

“We’d be laughing. Teasin. I’d make you dinner and if you want fucking candles I’ll light you a fucking candle.”

“And I’d rub your feet to thank you for making me such a delicious dinner.”

“Yeah. I deserve some pampering.”

“What about me? I don’t deserve to be pampered?”

“I just made you a romantic dinner with candles and all that shit.”

“Hypothetically. Yet here I am, literally rubbing your feet.”

“So what do you want, you want a foot rub for you too? Huh? You want a little shoulder rub cause you worked so hard watching me work my ass off in the kitchen?”

You pinch his ankle surprised he can feel anything when it all feels like rock solid muscle. Instead of answering with words, you give him a wry grin and move around a bit under the blankets. You relax into his chest, lying your head over his heart and settling your body between his and the pillows. “You’re a real smartass.”

Beneath you, Raphael lies still.

“This OK?”

Raph shifts a bit, you feel his hands rise and fall. “I don’t really know what to do with my hands.”

You hum and nod your head against Raphael’s chest. You reach blindly for Raph’s arms, one by one, and wrap them over your back. “Don’t have to do anything.”

Raphael relaxes a little at the news. He ducks his head low and you think you can feel him breathe you in. He rests his cheek on the top of your head before asking, “This that body heat thing?”

You nuzzle his chest, allowing yourself to slip under his arm a bit. Better position for falling asleep. “Yeah,” you say. “Sure.”

Raphael squeezes his arms around you, but he doesn’t say anything. You have to ask or you won’t be sure. Even if it means getting burned. Even if it means you’ve put too much meaning into things and you’re going to be pushed away, you have to know.

“This is more than a body heat thing. For me.” You bury your face in his chest as you wait for his response. At least, for a few seconds longer, you can pretend his heart is beating for you.

“When I take you on a proper date, there’s gonna be tables and napkins. And maybe something fancy to drink...”

“And then-”

“This. And then, this.”

“I like this.”

“Me too.”

[sukiglycerin]

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi​ and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin​ for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?" 

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself." 

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money.  these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken.  you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though,"  bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap. 

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

[aonogifreactions]

Prompt 50:  ❝Those cookies were for Santa!❞

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Requested: Nope! Just a starter! Request christmas prompts here: click. 

Pairing: Rin Okumura/Reader

Word count: 820+

SFW.

Warnings: none. rin bein a dumbass and accidentally touching hot baking tray.

Beta-read by my fren Floof! Thank you! <3

Psst, @uhohnoodle​, here’s your fOOD. 8)

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

The kitchen is a mess.

The flour is all over the kitchen cabinets, the rolling pin barely standing on the piece of furniture, almost on the edge of falling off. The young male is moving swiftly between the table and oven, checking if the already baking sweets are finally done and reloading the baking tray if so;  he hisses slightly as he feels his finger burn greatly, thus his first reaction is to bring the aching digit to his mouth.

"You dummy," you say, chuckling and leaning onto the doorframe, "you forgot your potholder, didn't you? You've been here all day, and that's the thing you forget about?" you cross your arms, squinting your eyes at him teasingly.

"N-No," Rin stutters, his back still present to you, "I didn't. I was about to ge- OW!" he cries out as the pain in his finger stings once again. You sigh and walk up to him, only to wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face into his shoulder blades. You can feel the warmth coming from him, and smell various christmas spices, the most prominent one seems to be cinnamon. He mumbles inaudible, tiny complaints about his pain, but sighs in comfort once he feels your arms around him.

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously, standing on your tippy-toes and trying to look past his shoulder, but it's no use; you can barely see anything. "Well, I've been trying to bake some cookies, but," he pauses, waving his finger in the air, as if it was supposed to ease the pain, "something... went wrong..." he fake-sniffles, but his expression shows slight disappointment.

"What do you mean? What happened?" as you start to get serious, you accidentally connect the dots; you let go of him, standing next to him and looking at the counter with a baking tray, where every so slightly tanned cinnamon cookies lied proudly on. "Oh my god," you gasp, as your eyes sparkle at the scenery in front of you, "DID YOU MAKE THE CINNAMON COOKIES?" you shout excitedly, making grabby hands at the pastries, the only thing that stops you is Rin's arm grabbing your wrist.

"Hey, it's not for you! Go get the other ones!" he declared and knitted his eyebrows, trying to look intimidating; you, however, hearing the second part of his sentence - "get the other ones" - immediately searched for the other cookies with your sharp eyes, completely ignoring his miserable attempt to scare you.

"WHERE," you snarled, "WHERE ARE THEY?!" he now looks at you with slightly concerned eyes, his red Santa hat almost falling off his head, "Geez! It's all on the table, just don't forget to take the paper towel off of them, so you won't eat it too!" he teases, releasing your wrist.

"Wow, and who's saying that?" raising your eyebrow, you readjust his hat, giving him a sly smirk. "Go and run some cold water over your finger and get a bandaid," you place your hands on your hips, "then you can continue baking or whatever you wanna do." He agreed reluctantly, going to the bathroom and wincing from time to time; you took your time to admire his hips, then, once he disappeared - you proceeded to make your secret plan real.

Making sure for the final time - you got a chair and seated yourself in front of those magnificent, hazel-colored cookies. They surely smelled beautiful, showing Rin's baking skills and the ability to perfectly measure needed ingredients. You got one cookie in your hand, and after a short while - you bit down. And it was something unreal. It felt like a symphony of different flavors hitting your tongue at once; even if they got burned a little, it surely didn't change the eventual taste. You found yourself eating cookie after cookie, not realizing that half of the baking tray is now empty, until you heard Rin's loud voice yelling at you and almost causing you to choke.

"HEY! THOSE COOKIES WERE FOR SANTA!" Rin screams, pointing his - now slightly less - aching finger with a colorful bandaid on, "I told you! There are plenty of other cookies for you! What if he won't visit us now?!" You look at him dumbfounded, being unable to say anything back due to your stuffed mouth; instead, you get up from your seat slowly, not breaking eye contact with him at all costs.

"Listen, baby, it's not-" you manage to stammer just so little until he cuts you off by running up to you and trying to catch you; he stops right before you and smirks wickedly, showing his fangs. His tail wags excitedly, giving out his real intentions.

"It's time for your punishment, babe. Now, don't run, I'll catch you anyway. It's time," Rin readjusts his hat once again, "It's time for me to tickle you to death!"

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 9 - the moments of peace

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a/n - hi! I've gotten some requests to start a tag list for this series. If you’d like to be tagged with updates, please send me an ask / message / reply! Thank you. :)

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ch 9 | the moments of peace

“To the left, to the left!” 

With an embarrassing screech, you lunged forward, desperately searching for any movement in the dry grass. You came up empty. Adrenaline still hot in your veins, you jumped violently when Xiangling pat you on the shoulder.

“ Your left,” Xiangling corrected, pointing in the opposite direction of which you threw yourself. 

You both stared wordlessly for a moment as the squirrel scurried away and out of sight. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, cheeks hot against the morning air. This was the third expedition you’d embarked on so far, and you’d still yet to catch anything that could move faster than a sweet flower.

“That’s okay! Just means that I’ll need to come up with some dishes to make with the ingredients we have so far!” You could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she rummaged through the basket of plants that you had gathered, murmuring to herself. “Is this everything we gathered today?”

You hesitated before rifling through your pockets and producing the brown, lumpy object you’d found at the start of your expedition. You weren’t sure it was even edible (it certainly didn’t smell like it), but you wondered if it might suffice to salvage the botched trip, even a little. 

“OH!” Xiangling’s eyes lit up soon as she saw what was in your hand. “Where did you find this?”

You peered at her cautiously, not sure if this was a good reaction or not. Also, her voice seemed to have hit a new high and you were worried it would begin to attract monsters. 

“Uh, back there, in those ruins. There was a bunch,” you offered, pointing in the direction. “Is it usable?”

Xiangling seemed to have begun visibly vibrating. “Usable? This is Matsutake! It’s a rare mushroom, and it’s so versatile that it can be used in place of any— Oh, I’ll explain later, let’s go get them all before a boar finds them first!” 

The sun was well above the horizon by the time you gathered enough Matsutake to fill the two baskets you’d brought. Xiangling had already started a fire with some Dendro slime concentrate — the way she’d taught you to do — when you returned from washing the mushrooms in a nearby stream. 

“Could you chop the Jueyun Chilis for me, please?” Xiangling said, barely looking up from the wok. No matter how bubbly she had been, the moment she stood in front of a blazing fire and a vast array of ingredients, Xiangling always adopted a demeanor of complete calm. It was almost unnerving to watch, sometimes, how focused she could get. You hurried to obey.

“How many?”

She peered up then, the licking flames painting her grin a bright orange. “Hansi, have I taught you nothing over the past week?” She thumped her chest twice with a flour-covered hand, “in Mondstadt, they might use measurements like cups and tablespoons— but that’s not how I do things! In Liyue, we listen to our hearts. Just let Rex Lapis guide your hand!”

You stared at the chilis. If you’re just giving out guidance nowadays , you directed your silent thoughts towards the earth beneath your feet, I’d love to know what your deal with the Vision is.

In the end, you emptied just half a chili into the wok, because even just chopping it was beginning to make your eyes water. It instantly stained the hot oil a bright red. For the rest of the morning, you watched as Xiangling bustled around your little campsite, tasting this and that, asking you for various small and bewildering favors — you certainly hope that she didn’t really use the lizard tail that she had you go hunt down. 

While at first you paid careful attention to Xiangling, the sight of a piece of Cor Lapis gleaming under the morning light dragged your thoughts elsewhere — towards what ( who ) was waiting for you when you returned home. 

“Okay!” Xiangling finally said, making you jump. “Sorry that took so long! I’ve never had so much Matsutake to experiment with at once.” She held out two neatly packaged lunch boxes. “Take these, one for you, one for Mr Zhongli! It’s Matsutake Stirfry with Potatoes and Carrots! … I’ll come up with a better name later.”

You accepted the boxes with gracious thanks, just the smell wafting from them making your mouth water. 

“I really want to see the look on your face when you taste it, but we’ve been out here for a little over five hours now,” Xiangling mused. Had it really already been five? Time seemed to fly when you were with Xiangling. “You should probably hurry home or Mr. Zhongli will get worried.”

You absently thanked her again, all the while wondering at the truth of that. Zhongli had certainly seemed a little worried after the incident with Tartaglia, briefly, though he quickly returned to his usual, unreadable demeanor. The idea that someone was waiting for you, would get worried if you never came home — it was bafflingly foreign, but also… so very warm. 

As you turned to go, you could hear the grin in Xiangling’s voice when she called after you, “and here you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to help. This dish was only possible because of you, Hansi!”

Briefly and painfully, you yearned to understand how Xiangling managed to make a good thing of any situation. It seemed that there was far more than just cooking that Xiangling could teach you.

—-------------------

“Wonderfully seasoned,” Zhongli praised that afternoon, and you prayed that he didn’t notice your cheeks blushing as red as the chili oil. “A perfect balance of spice. Did you help make this?”

You bit back a smile as you nodded, and sent Rex Lapis your silent thanks for his... guidance. 

—-------------------

Easing into Zhongli’s life was easier than you would ever have imagined. 

After your disastrous breakfast incident, you had made a habit of waking early and accompanying him on his walks in the morning — at first to make up for setting his house on fire, then later, out of enjoyment. You found yourself looking forward to your long walks, breathing in the fresh air and seeing Liyue Harbor bathed in the dawnlight. 

Before you knew it, you had memorized a few things about the mornings of Liyue: which routes to Yujing Terrace let you catch the early sunrise; what time Wanmin restaurant’s fresh shao’bing buns come out of the oven; and when little old Madame Ping, whom Zhongli always greeted respectfully, hobbled up the hill to water the glaze lilies. 

 It was only when Zhongli mentioned black perch stew and you lamented that Mr. Sun from the fish market wouldn’t get new stock until Monday, that you realized just how deeply entrenched in domestic life you had become.

There were other things you noticed too; the street corner where you used to play, sleep and beg. The sink behind the souvenir shop that you snuck to at night just to get a drink of clean water. Children who’d had the misfortune of being born like you, into families who couldn’t imagine feeding another mouth. 

These things struck you with increasing guilt — of every child of Liyue who grew up without a home, what made you deserving of salvation? — but mostly, with fear. If Zhongli got tired of you, if you once again found yourself in that life... 

Well. 

You swept those thoughts deep deep deeper into your head, and forged on.

—-------------------

“Another umbrella, Mr. Zhongli?” You raised a brow. When had you begun to point out his eccentric purchases? You weren’t sure. “We’ve bought four today.” 

“Ah,” Zhongli smiled, already reaching for the fifth. “Yes, so we have. Do you like white rabbit candy? Let’s get two bags.”

Resigned, you followed along, your exasperation quickly fizzling out as soon as you turned a corner and came face to face with the wide-eyed, dirt-smeared faces of a group of orphans. Dressed in lovely clean clothes and with so much color in your cheeks — you couldn’t imagine how you looked to them. You saw so much of yourself in their hungry gazes that you had to look away. 

You watched as Zhongli bent down so that he met them at eye level. “Please, accept these,” he held out the umbrellas, and suddenly you began finding it hard to breathe, “it looks like there’s a storm coming. And also, won’t you all also take some sweets—?”

—-------------------

You, of course, kept your contract with Zhongli, as religiously as you would one with an Adeptus, or Rex Lapis himself. Each book that you enjoyed, you meticulously brought to him as though an offering, and each time, he seemed to have something to offer of his own. A book about the Five Yaksha, tales of the Dragon King, the legend of how Guyun Stone Forest was formed, memoirs from Guili Assembly — Zhongli always had some twist of his own to add to the stories. 

“Did you know that before they came to serve Rex Lapis, the Yaksha were bound to a cruel, tyrannical God? Yet when they were freed, they chose to honor a contract to protect the humans of Liyue. How admirable.”

“Precious few stories speak of it, but the Dragon King was not sealed by Rex Lapis due to a disagreement, but rather, because he broke a contract. What contract exactly? Well, I can’t be ruining too many books for you now, can I, Hansi?”

“These illustrations of the spears that originally comprise Guyun Stone Forest are… certainly interesting. Why did they deem that stone spears formed from the essence of Geo themselves would possess tassels and a ribbon? I doubt that during the Archon War, Rex Lapis had time to consider the appearance of his weapons.” 

“My my, these books certainly are taking their liberties with their descriptions of the Goddess of Dust. Kind, yes, gentle, perhaps, but weak? Why, is the Guizhong Ballista not one of the most powerful mechanisms in all of Liyue, even thousands of years after it was built? I would truly like to see what these authors consider strength.” 

Each time you marveled at his vast pools of knowledge, Zhongli would, without fail, exhale deeply and smile his small smile. “I have a good memory,” was always his explanation. You couldn’t help but wonder just how many books the man had read in his lifetime — and where he found the time to do anything else. 

While you were frequently more than impressed by his reserve of stories, the sentiment did not seem to extend to others in Liyue. More than one time had you and Zhongli been escorted, forcibly, from the Third-Round Knockout after your companion stood up to correct the storyteller on the stage. 

The first time, you were mortified, though by the sixth you had learned to laugh it off as breezily as Zhongli did.

—-------------------

Sometimes, you recalled your earliest days at Zhongli’s house; how he had told you that your first order of business was to recover your health. 

You had recovered, and so, what was next to come? 

The house was always spotless despite the increasing number of items that Zhongli seemed to bring home each day from his walks. More than once, you reflected on his claims that he needed household help, and realized that he may not have been entirely truthful.

On particularly bad days, when the haze of doubt threatened to overtake every logical thought in your mind, you waited for his gaze to turn cruel, for his fingers to grip you painfully and for him to take whatever he wanted. 

Yet — never did he so much as touch you. 

—-------------------

The Vision sat as heavily in your conscience as it did in your bedside table.

You opened the drawer frequently to stare at the thing, more of a plague on you than a blessing, at this point. If you could not use it, then it was just an ornament — an ornament that put your  amicable acquaintanceship with Zhongli at risk. 

If he were to find out on his own, it would be so much worse than if you’d told him. The very notion of hurt, betrayal and fury in those amber eyes was almost too much for you to hear.

And so, one day, you decided that it would simply be best if you told him.

—-------------------

You rehearsed a script for hours on end, trying to guess each and every one of Zhongli’s potential reactions. Certainly, he would be upset, perhaps disappointed. You were almost sure that he would not hurt you over the discovery. And even if he did, perhaps it wouldn’t be anything you didn’t deserve, for lying for so long.

When you were finally ready, your knock on his door was answered by a deep, rich, “yes?” 

You had never seen the inside of Zhongli’s room before, and so as you pushed the door open, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt at the idea of seeing more of the man, learning more about him.

Your gaze first laid upon his face, edged silver in the moonlight. Then, immediately, it trailed downwards, to his shoulders, then—

Zhongli wasn’t wearing even a scrap of clothing. 

“Oh,” he said, slightly raised brows betraying nothing but mild surprise, “I was changing.” 

Wordlessly, you slammed the door shut and returned to your room.

—-------------------

When Zhongli came knocking ten minutes later, you were still a little dazed. 

“Come in,” you called, and as he entered you were somewhat relieved to see that he was clad in his usual four layers of clothing. “Do you see how I said come in, Mr Zhongli? Because I wasn’t changing?”

“I believe what I said was ‘yes’.” It was never easy to tell what Zhongli was thinking, with his carefully neutral expression, but was there a small smile in his voice there?

“You can’t—“ you realized with a certain degree of shock at how casually you had begun to address Zhongli. (You searched yourself for fear, and found none.) “—You can’t just say ‘yes’ when what you mean is ‘hang on, I’m completely nude!’” 

“I do apologize. I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Zhongli said, and there was absolutely, definitely a small smile in his voice there. “What is it you wanted to tell me, Hansi?”

You opened your mouth, but paused. 

In the darkness of his room, you had barely been able to make out what seemed to be odd lines down his arms and chest — tattoos? You hadn’t expected a nobleman like him to be so covered in them. But more importantly, in the few seconds you had beheld Zhongli’s well-toned form, you had seen what you knew all too well — scars, raked across his torso, stomach, legs, the raised tissue gleaming under the moonlight. 

He had mentioned he had been fighting all his life, that he had been a soldier— but it was difficult to imagine even the Millelith facing foes so formidable that it could have left such injuries, and so many. What could have hurt him so badly? 

What was he hiding from you?

The way he was looking at you expectantly suddenly felt strangely alien; the same Zhongli you had come to know and trust, but— not quite.

And so, you swallowed your question about the Vision. “Xiangling wanted me to get a backpack,” you said instead, “for when we gather herbs. Do you think it would be okay if we got one next time, Mr. Zhongli? I promise to pay you back for it when I earn enough Mora.”

“Hansi,” he said, after his usual few seconds of careful studying, and he sounded so concerned that it was almost comical. “Whatever gave you the impression that you would be forced to pay for anything of the sort while living under my roof?” 

—-------------------

Perhaps in a valiant attempt to dissuade you of your sudden preoccupation with paying for things, Zhongli began to shower you with them. The first of the gifts was a beautiful bookmark, a thin piece of metal shaped to look like the Xiao lanterns of the Lantern Rite. It seemed to glow iridescent under lamplight, and you loved it so much that you carried it everywhere you went, the same way you never took off your glaze lily necklace.

Once Zhongli had ascertained that you did not mind gifts, and in fact enjoyed them, the floodgates swung open. Over the next few weeks, he would bring you various small items each time he returned from work or a walk: a Noctilucuous Jade hairpin, a painting of Luhua Pool, a golden gemstone that he called “Prithiva Topaz”, a small and surprisingly heavy pillar-shaped charm which he claimed came from a formidable monster from Guyun Stone Forest—

And on the most barren days, when the bustling markets of Liyue offered nothing that could meet Zhongli’s most particular standards, he would bring home various steamed buns, fresh fruit, and beverages, noting with keen amber eyes which ones were your favorites. Today, he had brought back a pitcher of “the finest gui’hua tea Liyue has to offer”. 

Sitting in a room full of memorabilia that Zhongli had picked out for you, and sipping hot tea that warmed you to your core, you began to understand the feeling of home.

—-

The men were furious. You could feel their blunt rage in the air, tense enough to cut with a blade. If your wrists weren’t tied up, you might have been able to make a run for it. 

“Welcome back. Do you know how much you cost us?” They snarled, one, two, three, four pairs of eyes staring you down. In the back, you could see the man with the scar on his eyebrow, the one who had escorted you to Zhongli. “Are you ready to pay us back?”

“Where is Mr. Zhongli?” You managed to whisper. 

“Don’t you remember? He got tired of you,” they sneered in unison. “Surely you didn’t think someone like you would be enough to satisfy his appetite?” 

Desperately, you shook your head. “He wouldn’t have. What did you do to him?”

One of them stepped forward and slapped you so hard that you briefly see white. “How stupid can you get?” His jaw cracked open into an unnatural, teeth grin, and the others followed suit all at once. “To start to trust, to start to dream ?” 

You tried to back away, but your knees would not move. They were close enough to touch now, and together, like one grotesque entity, they reached out. “You should know better by now. You should know your place .”

Before their melting, festering fingers could touch your skin, you opened your mouth and screamed for Zhongli.

—-------------------

Across the house, Zhongli’s eyes snapped open, casting the room in a golden glow.

It wouldn’t be the last, but that had been the first time you had called him simply by his name.

—-------------------

You woke up to Zhongli calling yours, and couldn’t help the violent flinch that shook your shoulders when you saw him looming over you. The relief you felt at recognizing Zhongli’s silhouette was unimaginable. 

“I heard you calling my name,” Zhongli said, raising both palms in a placating gesture. “Are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?”

Was that all it was; a dream? Your throat was hoarse — the screaming certainly wasn’t dreamed — and your chest raw from the fear and desperation. It felt like your skull was stuffed with cotton. Blindly, you reached out, relief washing away the last vestiges of the social norms instilled within you.

“You didn’t send me back?” You whispered, clutching at any patch of silk and skin you could find. “You didn’t leave?”

“No,” Zhongli met your fingers with his, holding your hand in a firm, gentle grip. He wasn’t wearing gloves, you realized absently. “Never.”

You stayed there for a few long seconds— or was it minutes? “Don’t go,” you begged when he began to pull away. Your eyelids were growing heavy, but the lingering haze of fear had you terrified of going to sleep again. “Please, don’t go.”

You heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. “I’m here, Hansi,” Zhongli said, as you watched him sit down next to your bed. He was still holding your hand. “Get some rest. I will be with you.”

Zhongli’s rich, clear voice resonated through every inch of your body. You trusted him, you realized, letting your eyes shut. You would trust him with every breath of your being.

—-------------------

When you dreamed again, you found yourself in an endless land of clouds. 

Zhongli sat in the midst of it all, eyes closed, unmoving. The soft glow of stars formed a nimbus of gold and dust around his temples. His chest rose and fell gently, and you were certain that you would see no better embodiment of peace for the rest of your life, not even if you lived for a thousand years. 

You wanted to call out to him, but to break the tranquility of the moment seemed unforgivable. 

And so for the rest of the night, you watched him breathe; and you were content.