#ovens cookbook

[ovenscookbook]

rahhh this looks like fun!

1. i tried alternating povs as well as making a story that is 20+ chapters long! i might continue doing alternating chapters, but anymore stories that have more than 20 chapters might need to be shelved for the sake of my sanity 😭

2. i have outlined four fanfics, one of which is unpublished but a wip. the other is WTHI, which is not yet finished!

3. i learned that i’m a very impulsive and disorganized and wordy writer. don’t get me wrong, it works in my favor most times, but there’s no guarantee i might completely mess up the outline due to a really good idea

4. the hobbit!

5. the hobbit lol

6. bagginshield, nombur, mattfoggy

7. literally the entire company of thorin oakenshield, and foggy nelson :)

8. nombur! i’ve been into bagginshield for years, and i havent written anything for the daredevil fandom yet

9. of courseee Where The Heart Is. that monster is literally my baby. i didn’t realize i could dedicate so much of my time to something so big

10. Where The Heart Is has literally been the only fic i’ve wrote this year due to how much attention it demands! but it makes me so happy to write it that it kinda feels like i’m taking care of my baby <3

11. no fics finished this year!

12. WTHI 🥲 impulsive decisions go brrrr

13. none

14. i have no shortest fics. only WTHI 👁️👁️

15. i recommend Where The Heart Is <3 (read it and leave kudos to make my lil writer heart happy)

16. my WTHI playlist, but any song i’ve hyperfixated on will get the job done

17. tea lattes <33 ����

18. OOOOH my unpublished wip Stay, Stay, Stay. im still unsure about the title, so when i’m finished with the fic, i’ll let it name itself

19. “Dwalin met a peculiar Hobbitess in Bree.” (ch 3 from WTHI)

20. “But, in remembering how gently Nori had handled his gift, and the way he smiled, the cook couldn’t find it in himself to scrape up the slightest bit of remorse.” (ch 6, from WTHI)

21. “You all have touched my soul in a way I never thought it would be touched again. You touched it and you held it. You touched it and all its wounds and didn’t flinch at its scars.” He paused. “You touched it. And made it feel like it was at home, once again.” (ch 18, from WTHI)

22.

“I just need you to listen to me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we used to be friends.” Tauriel winced at the used, but tilted her head.

“And now we’re not.” (ch 16, WTHI)

23.

His mind whirred into action, making his mouth say thoughts the moment they popped into his head. “Gossip? No, you don’t seem like the type. Weaponry? Euch, wait, if that type of talk really excites you, then I’d rather walk in silence.”

“Now I wish I liked talking about weaponry.” A gasp came from his throat, genuine and uncontrollable.

“Are you actually talking to me?” A teasing note threaded his voice, to which the warrior immediately picked up on.

“Shutting up, now.” Bofur groaned.

“We can play a game of charades if that’s how you want me to guess. Or hot and cold? Tell me if I’m getting warmer.” (ch 10, from WTHI)

24. it surprised me how much i had to say about each member of the company. i anticipated that i would be less wordy when it came to the company, but they all had personalities and stories begging to be written, and just took over the entire fic!

25. i use word documents on my computer!

26. oh my goodness, when i finally got to reveal the plot twists in chapters 8-9 in WTHI! i loved seeing my reader’s reactions to the twist i’ve been planning since beginning the story!

27. i’m going to have a hot date with a tea latte and a nap!

28. time off the computer, reading other fanfics, interacting with friends and family!

29. ofc all my readers and those who left feedback on my work! <3

30. i’d like to get around to writing Stay, Stay, Stay (a bagginshield fanfic) and a nombur fic this year! hoping that becomes a reality soon!

tagging: @thatfancygirlinwhite @sunnyrosewritesstuff @conkers-theficwriter @consultingpacha (y’all are awesome bagginshield writers!)

↓↓read Where the Heart Is on ao3 ↓↓

fic writer asks

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

How many fics did you work on this year? (They don’t have to be finished or published!)

What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

What piece of media inspired you the most?

What fandom(s) did you write for this year?

What ship(s) captured your heart?

What character(s) captured your heart?

Did you write for a new fandom or ship this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write? Did you finish it?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics this year?

Rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023

What were you go-to writing songs?

What were your go-to writing snacks?

What was the hardest fic to title?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

Share the final version of a sentence or paragraph you struggled with. What about it was challenging? Are you happy with how it turned out?

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What did you use to write? (e.g. writing programs, paper & pen, etc.)

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

[yousaytomato]

Finally realised why everything is taking like, an extra hour to cook.

The numbers were fading, and when my mum relabeled it she's done it like this, and no one has noticed for over a week I'm 😭😭

[nofacednerd]

started doing the ultimate decades challenge for the sims and man. This silly little peasant family has my heart rn

[liamthemarowak]

Jack and Fighterman is teaching Liam how to make a perfect cake.

Liam The Marowak and Jack The Cubone Belongs to me

Fighterman belongs to ksuniverse on Deviantart

Pokemon Belongs to Nintendo and Game Freak

[campersgotogear]

Campfire Cooking: Gourmet Campfire Recipes Made Easy

Are you tired of the same old campfire fare? Hot dogs and s’mores are classic, but let’s face it, they get old after a while. Wouldn’t it be amazing to enjoy restaurant-quality meals under the stars, surrounded by nature? With Julia Rutland’s “The Campfire Foodie Cookbook,” you absolutely can! This cookbook is your key to unlocking a world of delicious and surprisingly easy campfire recipes for…

[blog-n-go]

3 Thirty-Minute Dinner Recipes

Here are three healthy and flavorful dinner recipes, each prepared using a different cooking method – one in the oven, one on the stovetop with a fry pan, and one involving pasta: Oven-Baked Lemon Garlic Chicken with Vegetables Ingredients: 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts 1 pound baby potatoes, halved 1 cup baby carrots 1 cup broccoli florets 3 tablespoons olive oil 4 cloves garlic,…

[calsbbyapple]

LADS men when you deny them a kiss

pairing: Xavier x fem!reader, Zayne x fem!reader, Rafayel x fem!reader, Sylus x fem!reader, Caleb x fem!reader (established relationship)

A/N: not proofread, slightly suggestive in Sylus and Rafayel's parts (only a smidge)

Enjoy!

✧. ┊ Xavier ┊ .✧

"Xavi, the recipe stated one teaspoon. That's not a teaspoon."

"Aren't they all the same....?"

You sigh, holding back the urge to laugh as you eye him from across the counter. It was a regular Saturday morning, and Xavier had insisted on finally conquering the one area he seemed to not have mastered yet; the kitchen. You, being a fairly decent cook, had been a good sport about it and had pulled out the old cookbooks you had gotten from Grandma as a basis to start from.

Which led to the two of you here: you holding the cookbook, a recipe for bread open, while Xavier stood across from you, a dejected look on his face and covered from head to toe in various patches of flour. It was everywhere. In his hair, on his face, on the apron you had wrestled on him despite his insistence that he did not need it.

"If I could just-" you start, only to be interrupted by him again. "No. I need to do this alone. I will master this bread, one way or the other." The determination in his eyes almost made you break, but you powered through the strongest urge to smile. You couldn't break down his esteem, not when he looked so genuinely determined.

An hour passed, and soon, one hour became two.

"This is madness. How is a simple thing like bread so difficult to make?" Xavier muttered to himself, a touch of helplessness evident in his calm voice while he inspected the lump he had just pulled out of the oven in front of him. It was gloppy on one side, hard as a brick on the other.

"Xavi, we're out of flour now." You told him and he pouted, he pouted at you, looking so much like a kicked puppy that you absolutely could not stop yourself anymore. You burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Your determination is admirable, babe."

He huffed and muttered something under his breath, only to watch as you laughed, a small smile quirking on his lips. Still giggling, you pick up a wet cloth and move closer to him, starting to wipe off the flour from his face. His large hands automatically found their way on your waist, holding you as he watched the way your expression looked so relaxed and happy around him.

Out of impulse, (or maybe it was muscle memory) he leaned in, intending to kiss you gently. Only for his small trek to be interrupted by your hand slapping on his puckered lips. "You're full of flour right now, Xavi." You laughed and his eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"Starlight, let me kiss you." He huffed, trying to close the distance once more, only to grumble when you stop him once more.

Abruptly, he pulled away and grabbed the cloth from your hand. Within the next few seconds, he rigorously wiped his face off until it was almost tinged red and, thankfully, void of even a speck of flour.

Crowding you against the counter, he held your chin to make you look up at him. "There, I'm all clean now. Happy? Now give me my kiss."

This time when he leaned in, you didn't pull back. Your lips connected in a sweet kiss, before he pulled away and peppered your face with soft kisses, kisses that made you giggle and clutch his collar tighter.

"I love you, my starlight. Thank you for being so patient with me." He murmured in between the feathery kisses and you beam up at him, cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I love you too, Xavier. Even if you can't cook to save your life."

"Hey, I tried."

✧. ┊ Zayne ┊ .✧

The sunlight peeking through the gaps in the curtains was the first thing you saw when you woke up on a usual weekday morning. Stretching your arms out, you heard the muted sound of the shower running in the bathroom as you slowly sat up, your hair defying all rules of gravity as it stuck in every direction possible.

The sheets were rumbled beside you, and you leaned down to take a whiff of the scent clinging on the pillowcase, a warm feeling blooming inside you when you noticed the soft hint of cologne, a scent most undeniably like the man who was currently taking a shower.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive. Just as that thought entered your mind, the door to the bathroom opened and steam billowed out like a mushroom cloud from the doorway. Right after it, Zayne walked out, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Looking over at the bed, surprise flooded his features for a moment before he smiled slightly at you, a silent greeting as he came closer to you, sitting down on the bed next to your adorable, sleep hazed self.

"Good morning, my love. You're up early today." His voice was low and soothing, making you sigh in contentment, nuzzling in the hand that came up to brush your bangs out of your face and caress your cheek. "You have work...?" You ask with a small yawn and Zayne's lips twitched more in a smile, nodding.

"I do. I should be getting ready now." He muttered, leaning over to press his lips to yours in a sweet, good morning gesture. However, before he could come any closer, your hands flew up and covered your mouth, shaking your head wide eyed.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet." You explain in answer to his confused and slightly concerned expression. Upon your explanation, he chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'm about to leave for a 24 hour surgery and you won't even let me kiss you because of something that doesn't even bother me? That's not very nice of you, dearest."

With that, he pulled your hands away from your mouth and swiftly leaned in, capturing your lips with his before you could retaliate. "Zaynie-" your protests are swallowed by his lips, and by the time he pulled away, you were winded and completely out of breath.

"That's my girl. Perfect in every way possible."

✧. ┊ Rafayel ┊ .✧

You sighed in boredom as you scrolled past yet another reel on your phone where couples are being lovely with each other. It wasn't fair, knowing that Rafayel was too busy to give you much attention today. His latest art exhibition was just around the corner, and for once, Rafayel was stressed about getting every painting perfect. Which meant that he was cooped up in his studio like a(n adorable) hermit, hunched over yet another easel while you were sprawled out on your boyfriend's incredibly cushy bed, a permanent scowl on your face.

Just as you were about to throw your phone at the wall in frustration and boredom, you came across a reel that caught your attention. 'Pranking my boyfriend by denying his kisses', the caption immediately caught your attention, and you watched the reel with rapt interest.

The girl explained how her boyfriend had not been giving her any attention due to his gaming addiction ("Amen, sister." You mutter, thinking about Rafayel's obsession with his artwork right now.) hence she was punishing him by pranking him and denying his kisses. The next few seconds, you watched as the boyfriend slowly unraveled into a mess, his game forgotten as he tried to kiss his girlfriend. Once the video ended, with the couple kissing and laughing, you had made up your mind.

Getting up, you tossed your phone on the bed and made your way towards the studio, where you could hear faint noises coming. "No, Thomas, I can't just 'speed things up'. This is art, you can't speed up art." Rafayel's snappish voice filled the hallway as you opened the door and entered the studio.

Rafayel was, for a lack of a better word, a mess. There was paint in his hair, on his cheek, on his shirt, and even on his pants. His posture was so bad at that moment, it made you internally sigh as you eyed how he was hunched over the easel like a turtle. His eyes were fiery with frustration and determination, his strokes on the painting firm and deliberate.

"Thomas, quit whining, or else I'll find someone else to be my exhibitionist." Rafayel was still talking on the phone, his eyes turning to find yours once he heard your footsteps coming closer. He passed you a small smile of greeting before it dropped in offense at something Thomas said on the other end. "Excuse me? The hell you mean, 'if I find someone else who can tolerate my theatrics'?"

You sit down on the couch in front of him, hiding a mischievous smile. Did you feel bad about what you were about to do? Absolutely. But will you let that stop you from doing it? Hell no. Finally, after much squabbling on both sides, Rafayel finally cut the call and placed his phone on the table beside him, turning to you and opening his arms for you. "Hey cutie, sorry for the chaos."

You get up and make your way towards him, letting him wrap his arms around you in a tight hug. Rafayel sighed dramatically, as if the mere notion of hugging you had filled him up with the energy he needed. "Missed my pretty girl." He murmured, leaning in to press his lips to yours, his eyes already fluttering close.

However, he opened them again in confusion when instead of feeling the soft plushness of your lips against his, he felt the softness of your cheek. "Huh? What's wrong?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing as he tried kissing you once more, only for his lips to land on your other cheek. "Cutie." He whined, trying once more and scowling when his lips met your nose this time.

"Are you angry at me? I'm sorry, I know I should've taken a break sooner." He tried in vain once more to kiss your lips, both of you almost leaning out of the stool he was sitting on. Letting out a frustrated sound when you denied his kiss once more, he sighed dramatically.

"This is it. My time has come. What is the point of making this artwork when the love of my life won't even kiss me? My reason for living has been taken from me. I must destroy this painting now, to avenge the love I once had, the love I lost."

You finally could not bear it any longer when Rafayel picked up his brush once more with the intent of not just destroying his artwork, but also giving poor Thomas a heart attack. "Raffie, stop, it was a prank." You burst out laughing, holding his hand to prevent him from ruining the painting.

"A prank? A prank? Oh, you menace." Rafayel grinned mischievously as he dropped the paintbrush on the holder, using his now free hand to squeeze your cheeks and peppering dramatic little pecks on your lips. You laughed in between the pecks, squirming in his arms before he pressed a long, firm kiss on your lips.

"Don't think this is over, cutie. Let this exhibition pass, then I'll show you what happens to pretty girls who prank their poor boyfriends."

✧. ┊ Sylus ┊ .✧

"Come on, Kitten, I know you can do better than that."

"Is that the best you got? How disappointing."

"Just a few more minutes, you can take it. I know you can."

You sighed in frustration, shooting Sylus the best glare you could muster as he dodged past yet another attack you had landed on him in the boxing ring. The annual Hunter's Association Olympics, an Olympics setting training competition that your workplace held every year, was just around the corner and you had decided to ask Sylus, your boyfriend's help to prepare for it.

Sylus, always loving a challenge, especially when it came to you, agreed without a second's hesitation and now, here were the two of you, sparring in the middle of the large boxing ring in his personal gym.

Both of you were sweating like pigs, and the muscles in your arms were burning from overexertion by now. But, you refused to yield to him, the competitive part of you refused to kneel. "You could do me a favor and shut your pretty mouth." You called out as you threw your entire weight in the punch aimed at his abdomen, whining in protest when he caught your hand easily.

A rich chuckle escaped his lips and he smirked down at you, looking so damn cocky and so fine. "So, you think I'm pretty, Kitten?" He drawled out as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on your knuckles. Despite your frustration, a flush grew on your face at his words and his antics.

"you're an idiot."

"I'm your idiot, Sweetie."

The back and forth continued for another few minutes, Sylus dodging your attacks before he noticed that you were getting worked up past your limit by now. "Alright, that's enough for now. Break time." He said, holding your fists to stop you.

Panting from exertion, you watched as he pressed a button and not even a minute later, Luke and Kieran burst into the room, flanked with electrolytes and post workout snacks. "Hey boss lady, we got you your favorites." Luke's excitement had you grinning back at him as you walked over, instantly grabbing a bag of the snacks you liked the best.

Sylus followed you, his steps calm and measured despite how winded he looked as well. Grabbing a bottle of electrolytes, he cracked open the cap and gulped nearly half the bottle in one go.

"Sy, my arms hurt now. It's all your fault." You whined from his side and he chuckled, sitting down on the floor and pulling you into his lap. "Well then, let's get that sorted out, shall we?" He muttered, starting to massage your aching muscles.

A soft sigh escaped your lips from contentment, and you laid your head on his shoulder, watching him peacefully. "Good kitten." He murmured, pressing a kiss on your forehead. Soon, the forehead kiss became a kiss on your eyelids, then your cheeks, and finally, just as they were hovering over your lips, you pulled your head back.

"You stink, Sy. And this is punishment for not letting me win the training."

Sylus's face betrayed his confusion before it morphed into slight exasperation. "Sweetie, don't be stubborn." He tried to kiss you again, only to be intercepted once more. Well then, two could play this game, he thought as he eyed your sly grin.

Before you could realize what was happening, his large hand cradled your jaw and pulled your face closer to him firmly, pressing his lips to yours in a firm, toe-curling kiss. By the time he pulled away, you looked slightly dazed, clutching onto his shirt. But, he wasn't done yet.

You were still processing the kiss before he got up, using only one arm to toss you over his shoulder like a (very cute) sack of potatoes.

"Looks like Kitten needs another training, in the bedroom this time."

"Sylus!"

His chuckles and your squeals filled the quiet corridors of his home as he walked with you to his bedroom.

✧. ┊ Caleb ┊ .✧

It was one of the rare days when Caleb was home from the Deepspace Tunnel, when he was not chronically stressed about missions or Fleet politics.

Taking advantage of the rare opportunity, both you and Caleb had decided to do a bit of spring cleaning around the house. Old books, broken trinkets from the past, clothes you both no longer fit inside, soon enough the pile in the living room grew into a mini mountain.

Right as you were folding up the rest of the clothes to put away in the cupboard, Caleb came running in the room, a silly grin on his face and a familiar box in his hand.

"Pips, wanna see if you're still as bad at this as you were the last time we played this?"

You shoot him a playful glare, eyeing the box in his hand. Kitty cards, you couldn't even remember the last time you had played them.

"Watch me hand your ass to you, Cal."

An hour later..

You should be used to it by now.

Yet, it still made your jaw drop when Caleb, your absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend, became a beast whenever you were playing kitty cards.

"Annd, that's another win in my pile." He grinned triumphantly as he counted his points while you stared at him in stunned silence.

3-0

That's how bad you had lost this time. No amount of bribes, cuteness or even threats had deterred Caleb from winning.

"You-! Oh, this is so unfair! I'm not going to play with you anymore." You whined, and Caleb laughed. "Sorry, honey. A game's a game." He grinned and your bottom lip jutted out involuntarily in a pouty scowl.

Noticing your expression, he chuckled as he came over, ruffling your hair. "I thought you were going to 'hand my ass' to me? This is why you shouldn't challenge me, pipsqueak."

You huffed and turned away from him, stubbornly running your fingers through your hair to smooth it out. Caleb chuckled, skirting you to come and stand in front of you.

"Honey, are you upset cause I won? But last time, you got mad at me cause I let you win."

His hands found your cheeks, thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he tilted your face up. He smiled down at you, tilting his head slightly. "My beautiful girl." He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips.

However, you turned your head right in time, making him kiss your cheek instead. "You're forgetting something." You stated and he blinked before his lips quirked in a smile.

"Please let me kiss you, honey?" He coaxed, leaning in once more, only to have you moving your head again. "Pips, why are you torturing me, babe?" His tone turned slightly whiney but you stayed rigid. "Caleb, think hard about what you are forgetting about."

His confusion cleared after a moment's realization and he scoffed playfully. "Seriously?" He asked and you nodded, solemn as a rock.

Letting out a long sigh, he let his head hang for a moment before lifting it to look at you with a look that told you that if you weren't the only person he loved, he would've never done this in a million years.

"Pipsqueak, the love of my life, my darling. My princess, my one and only lady. You are eternally better than me at everything, and I'm nothing but a big fat cheater and that's how I won."

You knew exactly what you were doing. Caleb was extremely competitive, and this was your punishment for him whenever he acted too cocky about his victory. And by the way his eyebrow was twitching, you knew it was working.

"Can I please get my kiss now?" He insisted and you finally relented, satisfied by his actions. Opening your arms, you didn't even get the chance to give your verbal approval before he was tackling you to the couch, pressing a firm kiss on your lips.

"You're so lucky I love you more than life itself."

[r-gelard]

Wet Bar - Contemporary Home Bar Example of a large trendy u-shaped medium tone wood floor wet bar design with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops and black countertops

[wormsongs]

Being an adult means opening your cookbook and deciding to make a Butterscotch pie because of a beloved video game

[ladyofstarfall206]

Kitchen Staff

Summary: Azriel’s shadows help you prepare a very special breakfast.

Warnings: None

“Now where did I put that…” A puff of white flour hazes your vision and you sneeze, waving your hand about wildly to clear the particles from the air. Wisps of inky black shadow hand you a whisk, before attempting to measure out a portion of the contents within the flour sack. You say attempted because, in their haste, your volunteer sous chefs overshot the cup and spilled on the counter.

You smirk. “I hope you’re not this clumsy in the dungeons. I can’t imagine Azriel would be pleased if his captive got away because you forgot to tighten the restraints.”

The shadows seemed to shrink back, scattering to the corners of the House of Wind’s kitchen like children being scolded. Your heart ached in your chest and you held out your palm as a peace offering. “Hey. Come here.”

The shadows slowly inched forward until they were curled up in your palm, eventually coiling around your wrists and working their way up your arm. A chuckle escaped you when you felt the cool touch of their featheight kisses against the shell of your ear. “I’m sorry guys, we’re just on a tight schedule. Azriel is due home today from Autumn and I haven’t even got these pastries in the oven yet.”

It was a debated topic among even those closest to Azriel, weather or not his shadows abided in his will alone or if they were autonomous beings. From what your experienced, they seemed to have their own agenda, as a handful of them always opted to stay behind with you whenever Azriel went out on missions. At first, he tried to force them along, but they disobeyed. You’ll never forget the shocked expression on his face when he came to that realization: they had disobeyed him for the first time. To this day, remaining by your side in his absence is the only scenario in which the shadows have gone against the will of their singer. Not long after that, the bond snapped, and Azriel informed you of the tongue lashing his shadows had given him for being slower to perceive you as his mate than they had been.

They knew. They always did. They were the only ones privy to the long nights their master had spent alone in the dark over the centuries. The only beings to know the truth behind his excuses of working late to avoid going to Rita’s when the Inner Circle had invited him. The only ones to stand with him in the corner of the crowded living room during Winter Solstice. They were the darkness that finally covered the mirror in Azriel’s bedroom when he’d spent too long standing before it, glaring daggers at the reflection of his scarred hands.

His shadows were only entities who understood his internal plea for a mate. For someone to love him in the way his brothers got to experience with their mates. A female whose warm embrace he could find comfort in at the end of the day, whose laughter would brighten the dull space within him, and whose heart would sing to his in a sacred bond. That is what he found in you, and he was thrilled.

By extension, so were his shadows, which is why you came downstairs this morning to find a cookbook flipped to a raspberry pastry recipe layed out on the counter.

“So they heard us talking last night. And you were worried it’d be too soon for you to propose to accept the bond.” Cassian grinned when he walked in behind you, a mug of tea appearing before him. “You could just have the house make it for you.”

“Yeah, but I think the gesture would be more personal if I made them myself.” You glanced at the shadows, who were mashing a bowl of raspberries and sugar into a thick filling. “I think they wanted to help. They did go through the trouble of pointing out Azriel’s favorite dessert to me, after all.”

You began to hum softly while kneading the dough, absently watching the purple sunrise crest the mountain tops through the window. Rhys already had the cabin set up for you and Az, a shiver of anticipation running up your spine at the thought. Delicious possibilities for the next two weeks flashed through your mind, biting your bottom lip to prevent the smirk from breaking through. Until—

“Ow!” Cassian stumbled back, clutching his pinky. “One of those bastards bit me… or scratched me. Or whatever the hell they do.”

You laughed, pushing past the pouting general to fill the pastry shells and place them in the oven. “They’re not yours Cass.”

“I just wanted a taste of the filling.” He crossed his arms.

“If there’s any left, you’re welcome to them. Now I’ve got to set up. Az will be home soon.”

Cassian lingered, a smug expression plastered across his features. He open his mouth, no doubt aiming to utter a vulgar comment, when the Shadows shut the door in his face.

…

Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever flown so quickly in his life, or that a three day mission to the Autumn court could feel so gut wrenching. Every moment that he was away from you left his soul aching, the golden tether pulling unbearably tight and demanding your closeness. He missed it all; your scent, your touch, your smile. His body practically vibrated by the time he landed on the balcony of the House of Wind and his stray shadows met him at the door.

“Love?” He called out, scanning the interior of the sitting room. Azriel furrowed a brow when his shadows began drifting towards the kitchen, seemingly gesturing for him to follow them there. “Are you—“

Azriel’s words died in his throat and he halted where he stood. Auburn rose petals, courtesy of his shadows, created a path to where you stood, holding a tray of the pastries that would seal both of your fates.

“Azriel… will you be my mate?” Your voice was so soft, as if you’d be concerned that he’d respond with anything less than a resounding yes, and the hope shining in your eyes nearly made him fall to his knees.

The Shadowsinger walked towards you on shaking legs, raising a palm to cradle your cheek. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

[ruusawa]

✶⋆.˚ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴅ ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴀᴜ

✶⋆.˚ ᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴜ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ɴʏᴜᴋᴀᴀʀᴛ

✶⋆.˚ ғʟᴜғғ, ʙᴀᴛғᴀᴍ ᴀᴜ, sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴅ ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴋɪᴅs

✶⋆.˚ 𝟺𝟸𝟶 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Why Bruce decided to adopt after Richard, he has no idea. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his four kids, but holy shit, they are hard work.

“Bruuuuce,” Dick, his eight year old whines at him, waving frantically from the doorway of Bruce’s study. “I want cookies.”

Bruce looks up from his laptop and to Dick who’s trying to give him the best puppy dog eyes the little boy can muster. “Why don’t you ask Alfred, champ?”

“He’s putting Cass down for a nap.”

Bruce sighs and stands up. “Okay, I’m sure we can manage.”

He heads over to the bassinet where his one year old, Tim, has woken up. He picks up the baby, grabbing the bat-sling (old habits die hard, it’s bat everything). Bruce carefully puts the sling on, making sure Tim is secure against his chest. He leads Dick to the kitchen where Jason is already, the small three year old trying to reach up onto the counter where Alfred keeps the fruit bowl. Bruce hands Jason a banana, ruffles the boy’s hair and then heads to where his mother’s cookbooks are.

“Right,” Bruce looks the recipe over, ��this doesn’t seem too difficult.”

It turns out, it is pretty difficult.

Dick ends up spilling flour everywhere, some getting in poor Tim’s face, causing the one year old to start screaming. Jason, who was just trying to help, bless him, then drops half of the eggs on the floor when he tries to get them off the shelf. Not the end of the world. What is the end of the world is when Dick refuses to let Jason have a turn mixing the batter. It ends in tears and a soft scolding from Bruce. But hey, at least the cookies look cool.

Bruce doesn’t know how this happens every time he cooks or bakes. The cookies end up horribly burnt. And the oven door breaks. Somehow. Bruce is at a loss.

Dick is whinging about his cookies being burnt, Jason is trying, and failing, to reach and steal a burnt cookie. At least Tim is happy chewing his fist, Bruce supposes.

Alfred is, understandably, not pleased with the wreck of his kitchen. The day ends with a scolding, another lifetime ban from the kitchen but… it was fun. Spending time with his boys.

Bruce watches as his four children play on the floor of the lounge. It’s almost peaceful, Bruce smiles softly. Yeah, this is why he had—

“Bruce! Tim bit me!” Dick whines.

So much for peace.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

aaaa, i love this au so much. i'm definitely going to write more of it.

this work is inspired by @nyukaart single dad bruce au, specifically the comic where they try and make cookies

[lazycats-stuff]

You know how the entire batfam is always at war with each other? So I was thinking, batfam x Brother Reader (not a vigilante) who is really good at cooking, like Food Wars anime good, and the only time they are not angry or annoyed with each other is when they eat his food. And Alfred really likes being the first to try Reader's food. Reader wants to leave and become a world-class famous chef, but nobody lets him.

Love your writing, btw.

Aw, thanks anon. Honestly, I'm a foodie, but I suck at cooking. Not bad enough to be inedible, but... Nowhere near good.

Summary: (Y/N) is a very good cook.

Warnings: cooking, (Author has no clue how to cook), no one wants (Y/N) to leave, (Y/N) and Alfred are keeping the family fed.

(Y/N) always liked to eat, ever since he was a baby. Alfred found that a great trait. A foodie baby? Thank God. Feeding times were always easy and (Y/N) was always drawn to food in general. It should have been a sign, to everyone in the household. Truly.

When he was a toddler, he was always curious about what Alfred would cook in the kitchen. Always sitting on the counter, watching the pot, pans or even what was in the oven. And perhaps would search through the groceries when Alfred would come back from shopping.

Alfred would explain every ingredient and offer it to (Y/N) so that he could taste it. And thankfully, (Y/N) wasn't a picky eater. He would try everything he was curios about. (Y/N) would prepare it, no questions asked. When are toddlers open to tasting things out of their comfort zone?

Never.

So, Alfred embraced it and made sure that (Y/N) was well rounded when it came to food when he entered his teen years. And, as it happened, (Y/N) was learning how to cook. He would be found reading in his room, reading cookbooks, about ingredients, everything he could even get his hands on.

And Alfred started teaching him everything he knew. Of course, it began with the basics. How to cut, how to butcher, dice, slice... Every little basic that Alfred knew, he transferred it to (Y/N). And it was their bonding time. Cutting up the meat, cutting up the whole salmon that Alfred bought to teach (Y/N) how to cut and then later cook... (Y/N) was always fond of that time.

It was obvious to (Y/N) that cooking is his passion. Not just a hobby, not something to use a destressing... This was genuine, pure, unfiltered love towards food. And it was a beautiful thing to see. Bruce was happy to see his son happy and more than happy to be a tasting person for him, because Bruce loved (Y/N)'s cooking. And you could taste the love, the care and the sheer passion that (Y/N) puts in every dish he cooks.

And that's why his brothers have volunteered to taste the food. No matter what it is. When (Y/N) made pasta from scratch? Jason was there, already sitting patiently, with a smile on his face. (Y/N) didn't even had to ask Jason to taste it. And Jason may have or may have not fought with his brothers to get here.

Or when (Y/N) was trying to dip his toes in the Middle Eastern cuisines? Or when he was trying Chinese? Well, Damian was sitting in the kitchen before he even got to cooking. (Y/N) wasn't that shocked that Damian knew. We are talking about Damian, after all. And thankfully, if (Y/N) got lost, Damian would offer him advice. What spices to use, would taste the food through the process, help him adjust the food accordingly...

Damian loved it. And may have also, just like Jason, fought his brothers to be here.

Dick was not the one to fight, but (Y/N)'s food was just that good that... Jesus, he loved it. He started to rival Alfred's cooking. Which was no small feat. It was a big thing. Alfred's cooking was great. Out of this world. Without him, everyone would have starved.

Tim would also come down after actually sleeping, because (Y/N) threatened Tim that he would never taste his food if he didn't improve his sleeping schedule. Tim would never compromise getting to taste (Y/N)'s food. So, he started improving his sleep schedule.

And, when (Y/N) cooked, there was a truce. Jason, Dick, Tim and Damian were constantly at war. So, to keep (Y/N)'s cooking safe, they have decided to keep the kitchen off limits. No traps or anything of that sort in the kitchen or near the kitchen. That is a neutral zone and (Y/N)'s zone, so any type of conflict of any kind would not be tolerated near the kitchen.

(Y/N) was in the kitchen at the moment, doing some desserts for the first time, trying to make a nice creme brûlée for the first time, alongside some cheesecake. He focused on the desserts and once he had some breathing room to think, he sat down and sipped his coffee. He gave this a lot of thought and he wanted to go to France to study cooking. He wanted to see France anyway and he wanted to broaden up his horizons.

He wanted to go to Le Cordon Blue. And he would get a lot more there than just culinary education that's already amazing. Of course, it was expensive, but (Y/N) knew that Bruce had money set aside for him, for all of his sons to have a college fund. And besides, Bruce is a billionaire.

Money is not a problem for him. Like, at all...

But then again, being so far from his family scares him... You know, being alone in a country where they have no one, no support... All the support is across the Atlantic ocean. Not to mention a flight that's probably over 10 hours long... And perhaps the fact that it's in French, which also presents a language barrier...

(Y/N) sighed as he took the apron off, folding it and putting it away in the drawer. Bruce would support it. His brothers would support it. (Y/N) knows that. They always supported him when it came to his culinary journey. And he wouldn't just get culinary education, he would get hospitality management too.

So... He just needs to bring the topic up.

Somehow...

(Y/N) finally saw his chance when everyone was sitting down, eating NY strip steak that (Y/N) has made, practicing his temperatures for meats. Everyone was raving about the steak, eating with gusto. (Y/N) knew that this is his chance now.

(Y/N) stood up and took a deep breath. " I would like everyone's attention please, " (Y/N) started, trying not to feel nervous. Everyone looked at him, wondering what was going to happen. What he was even going to say?

(Y/N) sat back down, not trusting himself to stand.

" I've been doing a lot of thinking about my future. About what I would do with my life after I graduate high school. And I am most definitely going to go into culinary field. And I want to get best education in culinary arts, " He paused as he looked everyone over.

Curiosity and wonder. Okay. So far so good.

" I want to go to France to study. To Le Cordon Bleu. I would be taught a lot and I just want to broaden my horizons and scope, " (Y/N) said and everyone froze.

(Y/N), going halfway across the world? To France?

" No, " Jason blurted out in an instant, not even thinking about it.

Everyone looked at Jason, (Y/N) with hurt with in his eyes and everyone else in shock. They may have shared a same sentiment, but they wouldn't have said no outright.

" What the fuck is the matter with you!? " (Y/N) screamed at Jason and Bruce stood up.

" (Y/N) calm down, Jason, from now, keep quiet, " He then turned to (Y/N). " Son, I know you want to be a top chef, known in the field, but you don't need to go to France to achieve that. Le Cordon Bleu may be a prestigious school, but doesn't mean that you'll be able to achieve your dream. Why not go somewhere closer, like New York? " Bruce proposed and (Y/N) teared up.

" My dream has been to go to France! Why is everyone against me?! I want to learn more! "

Bruce sighed as he sat down. " I know (Y/N). And I support that. I truly do. But we don't want you that far from home, " Bruce stated softly.

" I thought you said you wanted me to broaden my horizons! You always say that to all of us! This is pure and utter bullshit! " (Y/N) stormed away from the table.

Dick, Tim and Damian watched silently.

" Jason, you could have kept your mouth shut. " Tim shook his head, " All of this could have been avoided had you been been smarter. "

Jason rolled his eyes. " Well, we all share the same sentiment. We don't want him to go. We don't want him to leave Gotham. " Jason took a piece of bread and Bruce sighed.

That was right. They didn't want him to leave. They wanted (Y/N) to stay here, in Gotham. With them. But, they can't keep him locked up. Bruce would settle that (Y/N) goes to New York. As far as he knows, there's a good culinary school there... Acronym is CIA something as Bruce remembers it.

" He's not going to be happy. " Tim sipped his water, raising his brows.

" Well, he can't leave us. He is not safe. Due to his last name and the enemies we have, " Damian noted and Bruce sighed.

" But we can't keep him locked up. " Bruce stood up and walked to (Y/N)'s room while the boys talked about (Y/N) staying here.

[carbonfiction]

Super fixated on frank and reader who bakes as a hobby tonight sooo, here some thoughts before I go to bed and dream about it <3

Masterlist. Warnings?: pretty fluffy, some in-descriptive smut at the end, mention of f!receiving oral and creampies- that’s basically it! Ps to those who left asks in my inbox, I’ll be getting back to you guys soon I promise <33

Frank who watches with a fond light to his eyes when you ramble on in bed about some recipe you’ve been wanting to try.

Frank who nicknames you sweetheart or sugar most often, but will pull out cupcake, buttercup or god forbid sweet cheeks if he’s feeling extra playful.

Frank who builds a shelf by hand for the kitchen solely for your ever growing collection of cookbooks.

Frank who always insists on doing the washing up, no matter how many bowls or utensils there are, so long as you dry.

Frank who always wants the first bite of whatever you’ve made right out of the oven- so much so you joke he has an asbestos mouth.

Frank who loves to gives you reviews on your bakes except it doesnt quite help because he’s always praising them like “ya know, that’s the best damn (insert bake here) I’ve ever had in my life sweetheart- hand on heart”

Frank who is always prepared to run out to the store when you run out of any ingredients.

Frank who moved in super lean and cut but gets a soft pouch over his abs by month four.

Frank who watches you potter around the kitchen from the couch, beer in hand and half hard at the sight of you in an apron.

Frank who gets fully hard after watching you lick a batter or chocolate coated spoon clean.

Frank who can’t be trusted around flour or icing sugar, lest he leave powdery handprints in inappropriate places. Again.

Frank who loves to eat you out, usually on his knees beneath your skirt, as you work at the counter. Cooing up at you to “jus’ focus on your treat while he gets his”

Frank who then insists on getting you bare and bending you over said counter when your done, fucking into you from behind because, and he quotes, “they gotta be cleaned later anyway so what’s a little extra mess”

Frank who then makes you cum so hard that your legs tremble as he pumps you full; cheekily nipping your neck as he claims cream is his favourite kind of pie.

Frank who later can be found cleaning the kitchen (and especially the counter) twice over while you lay in bed thoroughly spent.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Denim (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Smut)

Heyyyy, remember when i did that little poll forever ago and the majority of you guys wanted me to turn the ending into smut? Well, here it is 🤗 I just pray nobody who knows me IRL will read this, but i hope all of YOU guys enjoy this! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.1k+

Summary- He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure.

18+ Minors please do not interact!

******

Benny took a long, slow drag of his cigarette as he watched you from his place on the bed bend over to grab your slip dress from the floor. The trail of clothes leading into his bedroom were the result of his desires and fervor manifested by returning home to your sweet smile. After a particularly rough day with some new members joining the Vandals, his frustrations built and threatened to crack his carefully crafted persona of calm, his entire ride back home was filled with nothing but the dirty thoughts he had of bending you over the kitchen counter and releasing his anger. But upon entering his house, his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. He found you standing at the kitchen island, adorning a flour-covered apron overtop one of your pretty little sundresses. You held a spatula in one hand, stirring it into the bowl of what Benny could only assume was batter, and the other was holding open a cookbook on the countertop, finger lightly tracing the words as you mouthed the instructions softly. 

“Hi, honey!” You greeted him with that smile that just seemed to melt away all his aggressions. “I’m baking a pie for tomorrow. I’ve never tried this recipe so I’m making my failsafe too, just in case.”

You were referring to another Vandals meeting happening tomorrow evening. A sickeningly sweet warmth bloomed in his chest and he knew he couldn’t fuck you there like what he’d planned. No, you were so thoughtful and kind. He wanted to make love to you, to show you that he loved you. That’s what you deserved. 

“God, you’re beautiful," he said as he watched the slip fall over your shoulders, gracefully laying over your body like water running over stones, covering your figure down to your mid thigh. 

He leaned his upper half against the headboard, one arm propped behind his head, the sheets pulled noncommittally over his bare hips. From the bed, he could see the blush tinge your nose and cheeks. He loved that he still had that effect on you, it filled him with a sense of pride that his words (among other things) could still garner a physical reaction from you. 

You grinned at him sheepishly. “That’s what I think about you.”

Benny had never been with a woman that called him beautiful before you. Sure, he’d been complimented many times, but called beautiful? That was something only you have ever told him. You found a lot of things beautiful, constantly pointing out flowers on the side of the highway or sunsets on the horizon. He loved seeing the world through your eyes. Sure, he appreciated the sunsets sometimes or your new dresses, but he only found them beautiful when you were on the back of his bike to enjoy the sunset, only thought the flowers were pretty when you placed them in your hair. Beauty was only a concept when you were involved. 

He watched as you began picking up the rest of your clothes, gathering everything in your arms, but then something caught your eye. Discarding the rest of your clothes on the foot of the bed, you bent, giving Benny a generous view of your chest before retrieving the item that gave you pause. 

He glanced down at it in your hands. His Vandals jacket. He quirked a brow as your gaze fluttered back up to his, a flirtatious glint in your eye. You turn from him and move to stand in front of the mirror above the desk. He watches intently as you slowly spin the jacket and bring it around behind you, sliding each hand through at a time before shrugging it over your shoulder. It was several sizes too big on you. Your fingertips barely grazed the ends of each sleeve and the hem of the denim covered your butt. You swiped at your hair trapped beneath the collar as you studied yourself in the reflection. 

You’re eyes locked with him in the mirror and you smiled. “You reckon I could be a Vandal?”

He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure. “Bunny, I reckon you could take over that whole damn club tomorrow if you walked in wearing that.”

Your giggle sent a jolt through his stomach and he felt himself grinning like an idiot as he watched you turn from the mirror and do a spin for him. You were just too damn cute. 

“Now, you’re official,” he teased, blowing out a trail of smoke from between his lips, eyes unable to look away from you as you moved back to the bedside. 

“Not quite.” You fixed him with a mischievous look as you crawled onto the bed slowly, sliding a leg over his hips so that you were straddling his lap. “I still need something to ride.”

He smudged the rest of his cigarette out in the ashtray before his hands found the soft flesh of your bare thighs. You planted your palms over his chest and the sensation burned straight through to his heart. He leaned up to capture your lips. “I think I have something you could take for a spin.” 

He swallowed your moan, hands kneading up to your hips where he helped position you over himself. You had never been the one on top before, and your heart pounded at the intimidating idea. But because Benny always seemed to read your thoughts, he said, “It’s okay, baby. Just go slow.” 

Benny’s hands on thighs tightened, helping to guide himself to your entrance and you released a breathy moan of satisfaction when you felt his cock sink into you. He clenched his jaw tightly when you began to move slowly, hesitantly, his rough fingers tracing your soft skin with an almost reverent touch. “Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily as you rode him.

Though he wanted to remain locked onto you, his eyes couldn’t help but roam over every curve of your beautiful body, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He marveled at how easily you brought him to his knees, at how you seemed to just control his every thought. When he came home to you standing in the kitchen, so innocent and unassuming, all the day’s frustrations and worries just melted away. You had the power to do that. And now, with you rocking above him, your eyes locked onto his, he felt that very same sensation of awe wash over him again. How did he ever get so lucky?

“You feel so good, Bunny,” he moaned as his head fell back against the pillow, his heart pounding in his ears. “Just–just like that.”

He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face and planting kisses to your palm. With every movement you made, his thoughts spiraled further, his mind becoming hazy. Mine, the word echoed in his head as a fierce and possessive need that both terrified and thrilled him. He had never thought he’d want something so badly in his life, never thought he’d care so much. But here you were, in his bed, in his life, and he was utterly lost in you. Every kiss he pressed to your skin, every touch was a promise – a promise to do anything he could to keep you, to make you happy, to be worthy of you. 

At his praise, you felt confidence bubble within you, and you picked up the pace, driven by the need to please him, your hips grinding into his with a friction that sent electricity straight into your core. The sound of your shared breaths, the squeak of the bed springs both filled the room in a sweet symphony that drove you to the very edge. 

Your name slipped from his lips in a broken, needy sound that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel him straining beneath you, his muscles taut with desire. You leaned forward, your hair falling into a curtain around his face as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, watching as his eyes darkened with fervor, his control slipping. 

His hand slid up your back, beneath the Vandals jacket, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was starving for you, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that sent waves of heat through your entire body. 

And in typical Benny fashion, he couldn’t relinquish control for long. Without breaking the kiss, he rolled you both over, pinning you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress in a way that caused you to squeal lightly. Not of fear, there was never fear with Benny. He broke the kiss, his mouth moving down to your neck as his hand cupped your breast through your thin nightgown.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice clouded by a possessive rasp as his hand gripped the bare flesh of your thigh, positioning it higher onto his own hip. You responded instantly, wrapping yourself tighter against him. “Every inch of you.”

 Unable to speak, you nodded, your hands moving up to grip his shoulders as he entered you with deep, powerful thrusts that made you cry out in ecstasy. Benny didn’t hold back – he couldn’t – his movements were rough and demanding as he took you, each plunge sending a shockwave through you, a white blinding sensation behind your eyes. The intensity of it was overwhelming, your senses filled with nothing but him – his touch, his scent, the way he filled you completely. 

“Benny, please,” you whimpered, your words almost incoherent as your pleasure built to a peak. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling against your overstimulated flesh as his hand came up to interlock with your own, pinning it beside your head. He groaned, “I’ve got you, Bunny . . . I’ve got you.” 

His words were a promise, and they filled you with a warmth that went beyond physicality. And when the wave finally crashed over you, it was all-consuming, your body tightening against his as a cry escaped your lips. Benny wasn’t far behind you, his own release hitting like a storm, and he groaned against your skin, his body shuddering from the force of it. Your vision blurred with euphoria but you grasped onto the way he said your name so softly. 

Benny lowered onto his elbows, laying his upper body slack against yours as his labored breaths filled your ringing ears, his heart pounding against your own chest. For a few moments, you both lay there, each coming down off your passionate high, his hand still tightly wrapped around your own. He pressed a kiss against your temple as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, Bunny. Everything.”

You smiled as you brought your hands up to run through his hair. Benny rarely ever expressed his love in words. I love you, was not an expression he often used. Instead, he found other ways to emphasize his affections. They never ceased to fill you with a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before. 

As the heat began to cool between you, he eventually pulled out, leaning up onto his elbows again, to gaze down at you with a lazy smile playing on his face. He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in a gentle caress. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Bunny.”

You shot him a teasing grin. “Maybe I have some idea.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you along with him so that you were draped across his chest. You rested your head there, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat as your breathing slowed. 

After a few moments, Benny spoke up again, his low voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “How about we make a deal?”

You tilted your head up at him, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of a deal?”

His hand slipped beneath the denim jacket again to trace circles along your back as he mused, “Whenever you’re feelin’ low or like you’re not enough . . . you come to me, and I’ll remind you how wrong you are.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his words. He knew you struggled with confidence and to hear him wanting to actively help you in whatever way he could . . . well, it just made you love him all that much more. It was impossible not to fall in love with him every day when he said such things to you, when he made you feel like the most precious thing in his world. “And what about you? What if you need reminding?”

His eyes softened as they fluttered over your features. “Then I’ll come to you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like more than I am.” 

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet, sealing the promise. “Deal.”

You pulled back, a hint of mischief gleaming in your eyes, and you asked, “Do I have to wear the jacket though?”

He grinned, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you into him even closer. “Definitely.”

-Tag List-

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[asunflowerana]

brownie bonding — Nanami Kento

summary: kento makes most of his quality time with his baby daughter.

warnings: pure fluff, dad!nanami, cooking.

wc: 800.

A warming melody of jazz echoes on the portable radio in the kitchen, filling the bonding moment perfectly. Nanami is just finishishing tying a cook’s apron around his waist, feeling a bit awkward to wear such a flowery print, but it was a request from his baby daughter. There’s no way he would refuse her. 

“You look pretty, daddy!” His sunshine compliments him, sitting in the high chair at the counter with her head covered by her tiny cook’s hat. She isn’t a kid that plays around: if she’s going to cook, she’ll wear the proper clothes for it.

Six years old, acting that way already. Imagine when she’s sixteen.

He can’t help but send her a fondly smile. One of the good things about having a kid is that you will always receive an honest answer from them. His little girl it’s saying he looks pretty, so maybe flower prints actually suit him. 

He moves his focus to the counter, checking the ingredients on display: sugar, butter, wheat flour, powdered chocolate, milk, eggs, chocolate chips. The mixer is set, the oven is heating up, and they have everything they need to start the day’s recipe:

Brownies

You’re on your way home from a business trip today, and they both came up with the idea of ​​surprising you with some brownies. In addition to welcoming you home with a delicious gift, Kento also takes this opportunity to spend more quality time with his daughter. She’s growing up so fast that he’s been feeling guilty for missing some moments of her life because of work. He wants to make sure that as long as he has time, he’ll make the most of it alongside her.

“Alright sweetheart, what’s the first step?” He claps his hands, giving her the task of leading and guiding them through the recipe. She bows to read the children’s cookbook she got for her birthday last year, and points her little index to the first illustrated step.

“We need to mix eggs with sugar.” She says, cautiously taking the mixer’s bowl and placing it in front of them. “Can I put them in, daddy?”

“You can, but you need to be careful with the eggs. Break this way.” He demonstrates to her, tapping the tip of the fork against the eggshell until it breaks a small part. He then opens it halfway, and pours the yolk and whites into the bowl. “Your turn now.”

Eri picks up another egg, and tries to imitate exactly what her father did, but ends up hitting the shell too hard, causing the egg to break right on the table and smear the wood with white and yolk. The dirt definitely doesn’t please her father, but he isn’t going to make a big deal of it. These things happen, even to adults, and he doesn’t want to make his daughter feel guilty about something like that. So when she looks at him with those fearful little eyes waiting for a scold, he starts to chuckle at the situation, making her visibly relax as the moment passes by.

They continue with the recipe, now with Nanami directly helping her put the ingredients into the bowl, and his heart warmed to see his daughter having fun cooking, her mini apron’s all dirty from chocolate. “Now we have to add the flour.” He takes the bag from the counter, and gives it to her. “Think you can do it, sweeheart?”

She nods eagerly, and starts pouring flour into the meter. A small amount of flour escapes, but she manages most part of the process, placing the measured flour into the bowl. “I did it!” She announces as soon as she’s done, a huge one missing tooth grin on her face.

Nanami smiles at his daughter’s delight, caressing the top of her head. “Yes sweetheart, you did it.” He presses the ‘on’ button on the mixer, and it starts to churn all the mixture into the bowl. The two watch together the mixture incorporate and become a smooth brown dough, which soon after was put on a platter to bake in the oven.

Since the brownie would take about forty minutes to bake, Nanami thought it would be a good time to give his sunshine a bath and get her ready before the sweet is done.

But his daughter has other plans in mind.

“Daddy, you have flour on your face.” She points in the direction, making him run his hand over his whole cheek. “No, missed.”

“Where’s it?” he asked, leaning his face close to let her clean it for him.

She puts one of her flour-covered hands to his nose, laughing when she sees the art she’s made on her father’s skin. “There.”

His first reaction is deadpan, not believing he fell for a six-year-old child’s trick. But he’s definitely not a quitter: as soon as she gets occupied laughing at his face, he places his hands on her sides and holds her, giving her a mischievous smile. “So this is how you want to play, huh? Very well, young lady… You shall be defeated.” He starts tickling her body, making her squirm and laugh even more. He releases her eventually, and the two soon start a big flour fight around the room, running and throwing flour everywhere.

Not only they’ll give you a brownie tray, but also a pretty messy kitchen to deal with afterwards. But you can’t deny that it’s worth the price. 

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