#tomato convenience store

[magicmalcolm]

Trying to read my mind would be useless, all you'd get is the Tomato Convenience Store Theme on loop.

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands. 

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter. 

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills. 

He never cooks for two, though. 

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought. 

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed. 

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.” 

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds. 

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions. 

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you. 

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered. 

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. 

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly. 

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion. 

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums. 

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional. 

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity. 

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed? 

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are. 

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now. 

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly. 

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while. 

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him. 

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning. 

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting. 

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even? 

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

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[mianexil]

◇ The way they take care of you during your period ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

💫 [ Girl, I hate this heavenly punishment for being a woman. But don't worry, these sweet kittens will take care of you during this lame time ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Suo, Umemiya, Kotoha, Sakura, Tsubakino, Kaji

Suo

Suo has found warm-ups that alleviate the pain of cramps so that you use less painkillers (after all, they can have a negative effect on the body). He comes to you and does this workout with you. He also brings tea that has a calming effect and makes it for you.

Suo is patient enough, but in your case, it can be said that he has a separate oasis of calm in reserve for you. If you feel like a mess, then he will take you on his lap and hug you. Not too tight, so that you feel more free, but not too weak, so that you feel comfortable until you get up yourself.

Suo is not simpleton. He studied the intricacies of the female anatomy when you started dating so that nothing would catch him off guard in the future. Therefore, he understands why this is happening scientifically but doesn't understand why the world is designed so that the wonderful sex suffers every month.

Umemiya

A white-haired man runs out of the "Pothos" and Kotoha shouts after him.

《 Don't forget to buy a heating pad!! 》

And all because 2 minutes ago you wrote that you needed his warm embrace.

Umemiya is absolutely fine with the topic of menstruation. He is one of those guys who will go to the store and ask the saleswoman to advise him on the topic of pads/tampons.

What are the safest ones for your health? Which are the most convenient?

Hajime will study everything with a serious attitude in order to take good care of you during this period.

He will definitely download the calendar app and set your dates there to prepare in advance.

And of course, he went to Kotoha to get a lecture on how best to take care of you.

Don't worry, honey, Kotoha will definitely bring him up strictly as it should be.

Kotoha

God, this girl is so sweet. Next to her, all your bad feelings seem to be blown away by the wind.

Who but a woman will understand another woman.

She'll take good care of you: sweets, painkillers, hugs, everything for you.

She will definitely take a day off from Pothos to be with you during this period.

Long, sweet conversations to distract you from feeling unwell, cooking delicious omuraisu for you, it's all about Kotoha.

A cozy movie night? Definitely.

Well, if you want ice cream, then there is always Umemiya, whom she will send to the store as a deliveryman.

Sakura

This boy doesn't understand women's stuff at all. Of course, he will be confused at first when he hears an explanation of why you look so exhausted.

Sakura can't stand the sight of the only person he let into his heart suffering so much. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how, and because of this he is very angry with himself.

It's understandable, this little savage does not even know how to take care of himself properly, what does it say about taking care of others? However, this does not mean that he does not want to.

《 Damn, stop suffering in silence. Just tell me, what should I do? I'll do it right now 》

Sakura will blush like a tomato, standing in the store at the shelf with feminine hygiene products, but this does not mean that he won't get a full bag, because his embarrassment can't be compared with the desire to benefit you.

Upon hearing your request for a hug, Sakura will turn to you all blushed, but as soon as he sees your slightly swollen, tired eyes, his body will start moving on its own. Embarrassment doesn't stop him anymore, this is not the time to worry about it.

His arms wrap around you, pressing you against a warm body as if you are about to disappear and he has to hold you.

Yes, he's not experienced in such things yet, but he's trying his best for you.

Tsubakino

Tsubakino is very gentle, but when you feel bad, he reaches his peak.

Tasuki has never experienced anything like this, but he's very knowledgeable about this topic.

He immediately notices when you feel bad, even if you try to hide it. And he will immediately take you home to give you a sense of comfort and relaxation.

Tsubakino will distract you from unpleasant sensations with all sorts of beauty treatments: moisturizing face masks, manicure, massage, everything for your comfort.

Do you want some sweets? ㅡ He will bake you cookies.

Do you want to cry and lament? ㅡ Don't keep it to yourself, honey. He will wrap you in a plaid, and his gentle fingers will wipe the tears from your eyes, holding you in a tight embrace for as long as it takes.

Kaji

Kaji will leave the patrol of the city, leaving it to his team to be with you at this time.

He doesn't quite understand how best to behave in such a situation, but his beloved feels unwell, which means he will do everything he can to make you feel better.

Ren will listen to your instructions and silently run back and forth, doing them.

He will bring you a jar of lollipops from his house so that you can choose what you like.

If you want to complain about your condition, he will listen to everything, and then put his headphones on your ears, turn on calm music and sit next to you, stroking your hand.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[ox1-lovesick]

✶ ─── TOMORROW X TOGETHER AND THINGS WITH THEM

🍇 pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff warnings. mentions of food, pda (?), wc. 50-100 each

🍇 type. headcannon , reaction

🍇 a/n. abandoned the tyun and hyuka fic for now 💀 this is like a filler fic or something i have such bad writers block. i know for a fact that soobin crochets

% YEONJUN

late night walks ; gentle kisses to your knuckles ; catching him staring ; errands to the convenience store at 3 in the morning ; holding hands ; sharing earphones ; leaning your head on his shoulder ; sharing lip glosses ; netflix marathons ; fashion shows at 2 am ; spontaneous dance sessions ; late night drives ; candid pictures ; slow dancing ; cooking ; sharing jewellery ; kisses through the phone ; matching jewelry

% SOOBIN

comparing hand sizes ; feeding each other ; interlocking pinkies ; desert before dinner ; baking ; sharing clothes and jewelry ; 1000 piece puzzles ; movie dates ; crocheting together ; croc shopping dates ; clothing hauls ; editing vlogs together ; food fights ; disney dates ; couple cosplays and halloween costumes ; pillow talk about the future ; tying your shoelaces for you ; giving you his jacket when it's cold ; matching socks and bracelets

% BEOMGYU

kisses in the rain ; hand-written love letters ; bouquets of roses ; sleeping in together ; doodling on each others hands ; scented candles ; bickering for fun ; backhugs ; raindrop races ; long bus rides ; sharing earphones ; picnic dates ; photo albums ; half anniversaries ; forehead kisses ; impromptu karaoke nights ; guitar lessons ; secret handshakes ; build-a-bear dates ; feeding each other ; pillow talk ; hiding tomatoes in his food ; painting each other's nails ; holding open the door for you

% TAEHYUN

long and warm hugs ; locking pinkies ; poking his dimples ; falling asleep on his chest ; cheek kisses ; stargazing ; library dates ; cooking for each other ; communicating through morse code ; study dates ; reading together ; sharing cutlery ; pinky promises ; kisses to your knuckles ; post it notes with messages ; holding hands ; feeding each other ; falling asleep on the phone with him ; playlists dedicated to each other ; gentle kisses ; powerpoint nights ; "5 more minutes" mornings ; flowers "just because"

% HUENINGKAI

naming all his plushies ; palm kisses ; zoo dates ; buzzfeed quizzes to see who'd survive the zombie apocalypse ; breakdancing in the dining room ; pokemon impressions ; piano lessons ; holding hands, everywhere ; kisses to the tips of your fingers ; pillow and tickle fights ; sneaking juice boxes and animal biscuits in your lunch

★ OX1-LOVESICK all rights reserved. do not copy, distribute, translate, alter or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[xileonaaaa]

Thinking of gojo!xchubby reader

*Gojo who isn’t an overly rude prick.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿˚₊

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Gojo!Satoru who used to pick fun at you for never being able to get your work uniform to fit right.

Gojo!Satoru who always made it a point to tease you about your random habits that he found weird or odd, but never really took anything too far, and when he did, he’d immediately apologize.

Gojo!Satoru who used jokes as his way of complimenting/flirting with you.

Gojo!Satoru who would stop himself whenever he felt like he was being too mean, often reminding himself of the time back in high school when he caused you to run out of the school dance crying because he’d said you looked like a clown with makeup on.

Gojo!Satoru who would often barge into your classroom with bags and bags of sweet snacks that he’d bought from the convenience store in town.

Gojo!Satoru who eyes you with a look of pure disgust when you tell him that “you’re trying to watch your weight” or that “you’re on a diet”.

Gojo!Satoru who’d just stands there frozen in shock at what you’d just said about yourself. Did you not see what he saw??? Who gives a rats ass about something as trivial as your weight? It’s not life threatening so who cares? He sure doesn’t.

Gojo!Satoru who doesn’t really wear his blindfold around you, because he loves to see your facial expressions, and just you in general. Only time he would wear it, is just when he is beyond exhausted, and is trying his best to preserve his energy.

Gojo!Satoru who thinks that you look downright beautiful the way you are, and finds himself at a loss when he realizes that you don’t see what he sees. The way your body is smaller than his and plump (in all the right places) but still strong and compact, genuinely has his mouth watering at times.

Gojo!Satoru who pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of your desk, and ushers a bag towards you anyway.

Gojo!Satoru who can’t help but smirk when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of your favorite snack.

Gojo!Satoru who doesn’t even bother to tease you about not eating when he sees just how much you’re enjoying the treats he bought for you.

Gojo!Satoru who pauses in eating his own sweets, just to watch you with probably lovestruck eyes.

Gojo!Satoru who made it overly obvious that he was literally beyond head over heels for you.

Gojo!Satoru who was confused when you’d blatantly ignore or just straight up deny his advances.

Gojo!Satoru who was sure you liked him too, so what was the big deal?

Gojo!Satoru who overheard your conversation with some other sorcerers that had cornered you one day.

Gojo!Satoru who immediately learned the reason as to why you kept sidestepping his proposals. You were being shunned, and put down by people he thought were your friends.

Gojo!Satoru who felt more than just angry at the pure bullshit he heard those people telling you.

Gojo!Satoru who made it a point to randomly pop in the conversation, and whisk you away to some quiet, secluded area.

Gojo!Satoru who decided right there on the spot, that it was now or never.

Gojo!Satoru who felt like his chest was going to explode from nerves the moment he confessed his true feelings to you.

Gojo!Satoru who was usually very confident, and even a little egotistical, found himself unable to look you in the eye as he told you just how much cared about you, despite his snarky behavior.

Gojo!Satoru whose face turned the same shade of a tomato when you timidly accepted his feelings, and agreed to date him.

Gojo!Satoru who couldn’t even hold back the cheek burning smile that instantly spread across his face as you excused yourself, and walked back to your classroom.

Gojo!Satoru who literally almost did a heel click right then and there, but decided that he’d just go get you some lunch. (He wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, but that didn’t matter. He was set on being the best boyfriend you could ever have.)

Gojo!Satoru who was not in the least bit concerned about keeping your relationship a secret.

Gojo!Satoru who would, more often than not, call you his wife in public and always have a hand or resting on either your waist or shoulder.

Gojo!Satoru who would take his naps in your classroom when the students were out on missions for the day. He’d pull up a chair and rest his head in your lap while you diligently worked on grading tests and homework.

Gojo!Satoru who makes it a point to show you how much he appreciates you, and loves you for you.

Gojo!Satoru who doesn’t call your belly rolls fat, and instead calls them “love handles”.

Gojo!Satoru who loves to hug you, and cuddle you, because you feel so soft and warm. It helps him sleep on particularly restless nights. You ground him, and he can’t possibly think about what he’d do without his beautiful curvaceous queen.

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Meal prep recipe for healthy growth and development - Quinoa, Roasted Vegetable, and Chicken Bowl.

Ingredients:

- 1 cup quinoa

- 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

- 2 bell peppers, sliced

- 1 zucchini, sliced

- 1 red onion, sliced

- 1 tablespoon olive oil

- 1 teaspoon garlic powder

- 1 teaspoon paprika

- Salt and pepper, to taste

- Optional toppings: avocado, cherry tomatoes, feta cheese, fresh herbs

Instructions:

1. Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. Cook the quinoa according to package instructions and set aside.

3. Place the chicken breasts on the prepared baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with garlic powder, paprika, salt, and pepper. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until cooked through. Let the chicken rest before slicing.

4. In a bowl, toss the sliced bell peppers, zucchini, and red onion with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread the vegetables on a separate baking sheet and roast in the oven for 15-20 minutes, or until tender and slightly caramelized.

5. Divide the cooked quinoa, roasted vegetables, and sliced chicken among meal prep containers. Add any optional toppings you desire.

6. Store the meal prep containers in the refrigerator for up to 4-5 days. Reheat in the microwave before serving.

This meal prep recipe is packed with protein from the chicken, fiber and nutrients from the quinoa and roasted vegetables, and healthy fats from any optional toppings you choose to add. It provides a well-rounded and balanced meal that supports healthy growth and development. Enjoy these flavorful and nutritious bowls throughout the week for a convenient and nourishing meal option.

[vawilcox]

**warning** this story contains a instance of being drugged by scum bags. Nothing worse happens, but it could still be traumatic for some readers. Please read with caution!

Dabi was casing out a hero stronghold that he had planned on attacking with the L.O.V. when his eyes roamed into you, shopping at the convenience store across the street. He froze. His heart stopped and he couldn't stop staring at you. The unscarred portion of his face turned as red as a tomato. She's sweet as candy. He thought to himself. Then his eyes continued to stalk you as you made your way out of the store. A passing tween cat called out to you and a vein popped on your forehead as you raised a fist and barked off his advance. Dabi grinned at this. And also sour. My little sour patch. Dabi lost all interest in his mission and followed you home. Making sure he wasn't seen. 

The next few weeks went by like normal for you. Work. Sleep. Throw all the money into bills and do it all over again. You had no clue that directly across from your apartment window, the apartment facing yours had a hostile take over. A villain showed up and told them they were living there now and that they needed to keep the food coming and to leave him alone. The older couple complied in fear, but soon found the villain wasn't too bad. He spent his time sitting at the window looking in a telescope. 

A few weeks more went by and things started to get a little weird. You'd come home to a bouquet of your favorite flowers on the front porch, or notice a new bag of your favorite candies in your jacket pocket on the way to work. One night you came home after a particularly bad day at work, having gotten in a fight with a co worker. Your favorite dinner was on the table, steaming hot. The dishes that had piled up were all washed and put away... the messy house was spotless... you were freaked out, but looked in ever inch of your home and found nothing missing and no one there.

You shrugged your shoulders, too exhausted and burnt out to care more. You ate the food and found it was made exactly how you prefer. You had no clue that Dabi was staring at you while you ate with a giddy smile. 

When you went to work the next day the coworker you had a fight with was absent. You found out later that in the middle of the night some kind of accident happened and he was put in the hospital.

Life went on. Little sweet things kept coming and you just started to expect it. You were invited to a girls night out with some co workers and went along to have fun and unwind. Not realizing that your whole world was about to change.

Your two girlfriends didn't tell you that they were bringing dates. Feeling like a total loser of a fifth wheel,  you decide to go off and sit alone. They were so wrapped up in their dates they didn't even notice your absence, you noticed bitterly.

You were so focused on your friends you didn't notice the shifty guys eyeing you from the doorway. You didn't notice the money they passed to the bartender nor the pill slipped into your drink. You just remember feeling something was off, in a daze being guided outside... the sound of a struggle and the arms guiding you change. The new ones radiated warmth and were rough, like they were scarred.

You woke up in your favorite pajamas in your own bed, a tray of your favorite breakfast was sitting on the table next to your bed, and a heavily scarred man sat beside your bed glaring at you with his hands steepled, clearly agitated and in deep contemplation.

After taking a quick look over your body you didn't feel anything was off, other than your head being a little muddled. "H-hi.. so um.. what are you doing in my bedroom? Ugh.. my house.. and uh.. why am I in my pj's and what's up with this breakfast?" You ask sheepishly.

"What why and how's huh? Not my planned first conversation but.. it's better than always imagining something that never happens, I suppose." The stranger muttered to himself. His voice gravely. His face and arms covered in scars and piercings. "Wish I could bring them back from the dead and punish them again for this conversation." You hear him mutter, barely audible. Your face paled. It sounded like he just mentioned killing people! 

"Uh.... who do you want to bring back from the dead?" The second time in the last few minutes you've opened up your mouth,  and the second time you sounded like a scared sheep in your own ears. You mentally curse yourself for sounding so weak. It's so uncharacteristic of you.

"Well, my little sour patch, what do you remember of last night?" He responds, you can tell by his tone he is in a pretty dark mood.  You get huffy. What kind of jerk answers a question with another question!? You think to yourself irritabily But still... what do I remember about last night? Thinking back... your friends thoughtless betrayal of girls night... the weird feeling.. the strange creepy feeling of strange men guiding you out of the building... your face goes totally pale and you start to panic.. oh no... not that... don't tell me that last night I was.... then you remember the last part of your memory from last night. The sound of fighting! The hands touching you changed to ones that touched you gently. You remember feeling safe in those hands. They were warm and rough but you knew they were there to protect you. You look up to the stranger, meeting his gorgeous blue eyes briefly and pulling your gaze away, feeling that they'd draw you in and keep you forever if you didn't look away right away... your eyes fall to his rough, scarred hands... everything clicks. You look down to your pj's. To your favorite breakfast, made exactly how you like it. You think back to the flowers, the meals, the treats...

"It was all you... wasn't it?" You barely whisper. Looking up into those enchanting eyes one more time only to hear him whisper back: "Sure was, my sour patch. And I'll take care of you in house from now on. You're not going out of my sight ever again." He said this as a matter of fact, you knew he had some kind of hidden strength and that you had no way out. But somehow you knew he'd never hurt you.. you should have been scared. But you were flattered. "Th-thanks... eat breakfast with me?" You offer meekly. He smiles and nods and scoots up next to you and hand feeds you breakfast in bed. 

[rottenpumpkin13]

ASG visit a grocery store plz

Shinra has a system where groceries are delivered to the First's apartments upon order, however this time Angeal was inspired to explore the city and suggested they all take trip to the local grocery store for their shopping.

• Sephiroth is in the produce aisle, roaming over the fresh vegetables and rediscovering ones he forgot about—what is a romanesco and why does it look like that? *buys some because it looks interesting* —and then it happens: the sound of a thunderstorm as the vegetables get misted. Sephiroth is like a little kid as he watches, mystified, as the vegetables get showered to the sound of rain. Whoever invented this is brilliant. Sephiroth stands there, waiting for another show for a good 10 minutes before he walks off, disappointed. It should be voice activated.

• Genesis finds the cereal aisle and makes a beeline for the one thing he came here to find: Stamp Puffs: Limited SOLDIER edition! - Now with a miniature figure of your favorite hero inside!

• He grabs the box with his face on it, tears it open excitedly and......HUH? Where's tiny Genesis?? Why is there a SEPHIROTH figurine instead?? This is HIS CEREAL BOX IT HAS HIS FACE ALAKSJAJSHSJ

• Angeal is busy shopping around for the necessities—milk, eggs, yogurt, olive oil, those chocolate-filled snack cakes Sephiroth says are "meant for children and unfit for a SOLDIER's diet" but he ends up eating half a box worth of anyway....

*Angeal spots Genesis opening a cereal box in the cereal aisle. To his left is a pile of opened boxes, to his right is a pile of Sephiroth action figures*

Angeal: Gen, what are you—

Genesis: BLASPHEMY *sets a tiny Sephiroth on fire*

Angeal: I don't know you *walks away quickly*

• Sephiroth finds an entire watermelon. He has never purchased his own fruits before, let alone a watermelon. Sephiroth sees other shoppers slapping their watermelons. He thinks this is standard procedure and slaps his watermelon. He breaks the watermelon in half. Watermelon juice flies everywhere. People are staring. Sephiroth takes off with his smashed watermelon.

• Angeal is still going through his shopping list: garlic, tomatoes, toothpaste, those fun cookies he gives Zack whenever he performs a task successfully that Lazard says is immoral but Angeal will continue to give him anyway.

*Angeal finds Sephiroth looking at a jar of two-in-one peanut butter and jelly*

Angeal: Hey, bud! Having fun?

Sephiroth: This item is a prime example of inefficiency. They deliver a skewed ratio, with a significant percentage more peanut butter than jam, as if they fear exceeding a certain jam threshold, despite jam arguably being the superior component of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Not only that, but by mixing the two, it distorts the distinct flavor profiles achieved when spreading peanut butter and jam separately. And then they have the audacity to charge 8 gil for it. I am disgusted.

Angeal: Why is there a smashed watermelon in your cart?

Sephiroth:

• After opening 33 boxes of Stamp Puffs with his face on it and finding nothing but Sephiroth action figures, Genesis gives up. He starts to walk away when he sees a small child pick out a box with Sephiroth's face, open it, pull out a Genesis action figure, and exclaim "Cool, I got Genesis! He's my favorite one!" — Genesis is now sobbing into a bag of bread. He still has to pay for the 33 boxes of cereal though.

• They all regroup back at the checkout line. Angeal is standing there, mystified as Sephiroth's cart is filled with items such as a gallon of honey, 6 entire boneless sliced hams, several trays of frozen convenience dinners, bubblegum-flavored children's toothpaste, and purple shampoo.

Angeal: Pray tell what the purple shampoo is for.

Sephiroth: An elderly woman in the shampoo aisle informed me that this is very good for gray hair.

Angeal: But your hair isn't—oh never mind. Genesis, what on earth are you going to do with 33 boxes of cereal and 33 Sephiroth action figures.

Genesis: File a complaint to the marketing department. Can you believe all of the Genesis cereal boxes came with Sephiroth action figures? Every single one of them.

Sephiroth: I apologize for coming inside of you.

Genesis:

[gl1tchy-4rt]

Building a band!!

Here's the Members of...

"Here in 'Go Make Some Sound' it's all about doing something fun and enjoying ourselves, if we are not enjoying it then we try something else" - Marla the Mushroom

Marla the Mushroom: Bass player of the group.

She is peppy and outgoing, she maybe the only gal in the group but don't let that make ya think she won't defend herself!

Works part-time at "Noisette Cafe" and is good friends with the owner.

"I don't care if our music is silly, or childish or anything, what matters is that me, my pals and the audience we are having fun!" - Stretcher the Cheese

Stretcher the Cheese: Drummer of the group

He may look a bit old but i assure you he is full of life! Always amazed by the life and animals that live in the world.

Works part-time at Virgil's farm.

"All i have to say is that life is pretty amazing and i'm glad to be here" - Tommy the Tomato

Tonny the Tomato: Guitarist of the group

The chillest clown that ever lived, but that doesn't stop him from being a party animal!

Works part-time at a convenience store.

"I...i'm just happy to be alive and well, and especially that my friends are here and okay" - Brad the Butcher

Brad the butcher: Pianist of the group

Don't let his scary appearance fool you, he is pretty nice and pretty much the dad of the group, despite his challenged vision you, he can play music like a freaking master!

Works part-time as an actual butcher.

"Life's about enjoying yourself, so that's what we are doing! enjoying life" - Presley the Pineapple

Presley the Pineapple: Lead vocalist of the group.

A Strong yet melodious voice to set the stage and lead the band to a wonderful performance! And is that voice is no other than Presley! Leader of the group.

Works part-time in a bar.

"We are all here! and that's so cool!and i'm so glad that... we all changed, for the better!" - Peshino the Bot

Peshino the Bot: Accordion player of the group.

Hands that used to make pizza are now used to play wonderful melodies with his new friends! He is never afraid to put a bit of color to life.

Works part-time in a post office.

Last but not least be can't forget about their manager: Snotty and his secretary: Ms. Iceyy! By @fizzysartplace

Sadly we couldn't get an interview with them :(

(archive photography) /jk

So yeah! that's "Go Make Some Sound!!" i really enjoyed drawing them :)

See y'all next time! Buh-bye!!

[the-swageyama-tobiyolo]

¿donde está la biblioteca? || z.cl

six. what the fuck was that (written)

the world officially hated you. 

not only had all your lessons been cancelled after you killed yourself studying for a test that was supposed to take place that day, but your car had broken down the night before on your way to the convenience store leaving you carless and dependent on public transport. or worse, your friends.

a pounding headache had taken over your head the moment you woke up, refusing to leave even after you took a pill. your body and mind exhausted from the countless nights of horrible sleep due to your studying.

when food seemed like your only salvation, you opened your fridge to find it almost empty, only occupied by a single tomato and left over almond milk, lacking the items you were going to the store for in the first place. you gave up and went back to bed, refusing to deal with anything more than the computer that was laid next to you projecting the third season of the 100, your only happiness seemingly coming from the handsome figure of Bellamy Blake.

your mind wandered off so far that you snapped back to reality at the sound of your phone receiving a message, making the corners of your lips lift up slightly at the sight of the contact name on your screen.

after answering, you decided that sleeping for a while before the class was probably the best idea, so you set an alarm and did your best to doze off to sleep.

thankfully, you had awakened before the alarm rang, saving you of the bad mood waking up that way would have caused. your body and head felt a million times better and the sun seemed to shine a tiny bit brighter through your curtains, giving you the motivation you needed to get ready to leave your house.

even when the forecast predicted non-stop rain for the entire afternoon, the sky looked clear enough for you to have faith in getting to your lesson completely dry. chenle was praying for you after all.

a tiny smile was left on your lips as music played in your ears, the walk feeling light due to the cold weather.

however, the world hated you and had to remind you of that.

one minute to the next, the clouds broke down in the hardest rain they had in maybe a whole century, making you let out an exasperated groan and start running towards your university’s library with a good 15 minutes left to run.

★🏀⋆｡ °⋆

chenle was worried. since you had talked earlier that day, he had kept his promise and prayed profusely to the sky that you wouldn't get rained on, but his prayers had been proven to be completely useless when the sky completely fell apart on top of the university gym. he tried his hardest to continue practicing, forcing himself to think that you were fine and a little rain wouldn't hurt you. but his clouded mind was interfering with his game, and he wasn't the only one to notice. 

seunghan walked towards him with a slight frown as they called a three minute water break, questioning him immediately “you okay there, captain?” his voice was laced with humor, but chenle knew his concern was meant.

“all good, just a bit worried about the rain” he answered half honestly, not feeling comfortable enough to voice his concern for you out loud yet. “do you need a ride home? i can wait for your tutoring and take you home" seunghan offered, making the sides of chenle's mouth quirk slightly upwards. this is what he meant when he referred to his team as a family. “nah, all good, it's just that yn had to walk here and i'm pretty sure she’s getting soaked” he brushed it off, although the slight crease of his eyebrows told seunghan that it was genuinely making him upset.

“you should probably go get her then, i can take over the last bit” he offered, patting his shoulder in a friendly manner. chenle thought of it for a second. was he really going to leave practice over the possibility of you maybe getting rained on?

“alright man, thank you, i'll see you later” he patted the boy's shoulder back and walked to get his stuff together, looking at his wrist watch. it was too late to go get you, but maybe he could make your arrival a little better.

★🎧⋆｡ °⋆

to say you were soaked was the understatement of the century. you thanked every single divine being out there for the fact that you had a waterproof backpack that actually worked pretty good, but cursed them because maybe they could have reminded you to take an umbrella. you walked into the library shivering of how cold you felt, muttering a small sorry to the librarian for the dripping of your hair and gaining only a sympathetic smile. you tiredly went towards the table you and chenle usually sat on, expecting to be alone for long enough to get yourself together and prepare for the lesson as you always did, but you were surprised to see the boy already there.

with a towel and a cup of what you were pretty sure was warm tea. he looked up at the sound of your steps, frowning worriedly at your state. he stood up and wrapped the towel around your body wordlessly, rubbing your sides as if he were trying to warm you up. “sorry, i was going to go pick you up in the car but i thought it was probably too late so i went to get you some warm tea instead.” he ranted as he backed away from you, giving you space. “thank you, lele, this is more than perfect” the nickname slipped from your lips and if you hadn’t shied away from looking at him, you could have caught the faint pinkness that covered his cheeks.

“here, wear this” he said as he took his hoodie off of his own body, handing it to you.

“i don't want you to be cold, it's okay” you pushed his hands away, cheeks flaming red at his cute gesture.

“i just ran around for an hour and a half, i think i'm warm enough” he chuckled and gave you a reassuring smile, pushing the hoodie back in your direction. you couldn't do anything but mutter a small thank you and put it on, sitting down to start the lesson and completely missing how chenle stared at you a little too long, his breath caught in his throat. ★🎧⋆｡ °⋆

the two hour session had flown by between laughs and jokes about how absolutely horrendous chenle’s spanish was (gaining a few paper balls to be thrown your way, of course.)

7 pm towered over you as you stuffed all your materials back into your backpack, mentally preparing yourself to walk all the way home again.

chenle looked out the window with a small frown that made you think a soft cute to yourself before turning back to you. “you're going to get poured on again” he commented with a poor attempt of a smile on his face. “no need to rub it in, i'm already dreading it” you groaned as you put your backpack on and started walking with him on your side.

“i can drive you home if you’d like” he shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could, even when his heart was beating a little too fast for his liking.

“there's no need for that, lele, i promise” you reassured, his heart almost beating out of his chest at the sound of that nickname escaping your lips again

“don't be stubborn, please” he asked and gave you an almost pleading look, and who were you to say no?

the drive was once again filled with laughter, terminating as “tsq” by humbe played in the background. (obviously your song choice as you used the excuse of him “having to listen to spanish music if he actually wanted to learn the language.) you smiled at him softly as he parked in front of your house. “thank you a lot for driving me” 

“no problem” he smiled as he took in the softness of your features, being interrupted as you spoke again 

"oh, sorry, almost forgot” you mumbled before beginning to take off the hoodie he had given you, being stopped by his hand on your arm. “keep it so you’ll have plenty of things to wear when it's raining” you almost missed the light blush on his face as he said that. almost.

“i have hoodies of my own, you know” you scoffed humorously, teasing him a little.

“yet you don't seem to wear them” he retaliated, making you roll your eyes before opening the door.

“adiós, chenle” you smiled and hopped off of the car, going to your building door and waving at him from the entrance, smiling as he waved back before driving away.

what the fuck was that.

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

★ word count ;; 1.5k

★ authors note ;; first written chapter guys, lowkey terrified. anyways, im kinda adoring them too much to make it too slow burn, also bc i want them to pin over each other for a fat sec after. let me know what you think about this chapter and please keep in mind that english is not my first language! also i finally put the playlist on the ml so i recommend listening to it.

★ tag list ;; @yutarot @chenlesfavorite @fullsunbabe @taroddori @morkiee @jovialdelusionbouquet @winwintea

[kitthepurplepotato]

Shenanigans 14

Chapter 14 Part 1 / Fake it till you make it!

Summary: Y/N and Bakugou go on a mission, pretending to be a freshly married couple. It goes unexpectedly well.

Warnings: Swear words, pretend relationship, heavy flirting, suggestive

First Part Master List

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It took Bakugou a full 30 seconds to lose his shit.

30 full seconds.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“What the fuck were you thinking, you absolute moron?! That we will have two separate beds? In a deluxe room especially made for a freshly married couple?!” You try your best to not scream loudly at the stupid idiot standing next to you. His face is as red as a tomato and his body is trembling from all the pent up stress as he tries to explode the massive bed with his eyes.

“Shut the fuck, it is fucking obvious now, okay?!”

“Took you long enough, you dumb bitch!”

Okay, maybe… but just maybe, you are also freaking out right now. Just maybe.

“Call me a bitch again and I’ll make sure your mouth is stuffed until the rest of the FUCKING WEEK.” Katsuki hisses, his eyes full of anger. This guy will be in pieces by the end of this mission, that’s for sure; you have so many ideas on how to wind him up now that he can’t get too pissed at you for the sake of the mission. So many ideas. So… so many. Ahh, this week will be amazing.

“Buy me dinner first, will ya?” You retort with a shit eating smirk and it takes the hero a few moments to understand the hint. When the realization hits him he pales completely first then blushes like a high school boy. “Aww, are you a virgin? I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry, babe!” You really wanted to say this in a suggestive tone but you couldn’t help the giggles escaping your lips. He’s so fucking cute when he’s all winded up, goddamn it.

Mr. Dynamight did not appreciate your joke by the look of it, as the hero throws you on the bed in an aggressive but definitely sexual way and crawls up to you slowly while keeping your limbs and arms pinned into the soft mattress. You can feel your lower parts twitch as Katsuki moves closer to your neck, breathing heavily against it as his warm breath warms up your sensitive neck.

“Call me a fucking virgin again and I’ll make sure you can’t stand up for the rest of the day.”

“V…virgin.” You stutter, an absolute hot mess under the hero’s hold. Where is your dignity, woman?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

It took you five minutes to end up in this situation and you have 5 more days to go. Fuck.

“You are insufferable.” He mutters into your neck and moves away like nothing had happened. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before moving far away from the evil bed; you won’t be able to sleep a wink on this fucking thing after all this.

“Damn, husband well chosen.” You try to fake nonchalance by pretending to grin, but Katsuki only scoffs at your flushed face.

“V…Virgin.” He parrots with a shit eating grin, knowing he won this fight.

“Fuck you.” Well, that’s a childish retort, but your brain just got fried.

“You wish.” The blonde WINKS, and moves towards the back of the room when someone knocks on your hotel room door; you quickly put the hero’s disguise back before he opens the door for the intruder. And yes, you do wish. Khm.

“Welcome!” The staff member smiles, cheekily looking into the room for the second person. “Ahh, it must be nice to be freshly married, I was also unable to keep my hands away from my honey bun when we were on our honeymoon.” The old man stares at you with a dreamy face. “Oh, excuse me, I’m only here to bring your suitcases up! There’s a 24/7 restaurant on the first floor, but you can also order food into your room by using the phone on the right side of your bed!” The man brings the two suitcases into the room. “There is also a small convenience store just outside the building in case you ran out of necessities!” The old man winks at your fake husband and retreats, leaving nothing but awkward silence in the room as the door closes behind him.

After a few seconds you both burst out laughing. Hysterically.

“Honey bun, he said!” You cry, tears falling down your cheeks from all the laughter.

“Don’t laugh, sweet pea, he’s in love!” Katsuki mock-coos at you, making you laugh even harder.

“Oh my god, stop this shenanigan, I can’t cope! Who would say that?!” You giggle, trying your best to breathe.

“Deku, probably.” Bakugou snickers with another shit-eating grin on his face.

“Burnnnnn!” You giggle some more but your breathing evens out eventually. “This was fun, we should do this more often.”

“Me pining you to the bed or laughing our asses off at a poor little man?” Bakugou gives you a questioning glare, his eyes full of mischief.

“Honestly? Both.” You grin.

“You are such a flirt, Y/N.” The hero rolls his eyes, slowly making his way to the dresser to unpack his clothing for the week.

“Wow, you said my actual name.” You smile to yourself, lost in your thoughts for a second.

“Fuck you.” Is all the answer you get.

“You wish.” You strike back with his own words from before, which only makes the blonde laugh again.

You could get used to this; this bantering, like you’ve known each other for ages, to the the way you two just go back to your friendly bickering so easily after a moment full of passion. You two click so well together in a really weird way, it’s really hard to describe it but being around the blonde feels like home; even when life goes to shit, even when things get heated and you end up hating each other for a few seconds you are always welcome back when you need it, because that’s what home is; a place where you always have a place, where you belong, where you are loved and supported with all your flaws and stupid shenanigans.

With Katsuki, you can just be yourself and you really fucking love that.

“Hey, potty mouth.”

“Hm?”

“I hope this week never ends.”

“Jesus, that sounds like my worst nightmare.” The hero makes a scared face but he can’t hide the small smile on his lips as he puts his shirts into the top drawer of the dresser.

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The first day went by quickly; you didn’t really leave the hotel room but rather concentrated on packing out instead; after you both got rid of the tension between you by joking around, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Things got heated again by the time the sun went down and it was time to sleep.

With that said…

“Don’t be an idiot, this bed is massive, we can absolutely sleep on it without touching.” You look at the dumb, freshly showered blonde. The above mentioned blonde only pouts and moves his stupid little ass towards the small sofa on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, I highly doubt that after seeing you touching the shit out of me while half asleep back when you ended up in my flat.” The hero rolls his eyes and makes himself ‘comfortable’ on the stupidly small sofa. It hurts to even look at him in that position; his legs are literally dangling in the air.

“I had a fever!” You retort, staring at him from the comfortable (and evil) bed. “I think you are just scared to share a bed with a woman, KACCHAN.”

Needless to say, that did it for the blonde.

“I ain’t no pussy.” The blonde stands up and plops down on the other side of the bed, as far away from you as physically possible. You don’t say anything just roll to your other side to give the hero the space he needs and enjoy the company as you slowly fall asleep.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a rustle next to you. The blonde tosses and turns, then suddenly takes a huge breath, like he’s waking up from a nightmare.

“Fuck.” Bakugou whimpers helplessly and rolls closer to you on the bed; you can feel his warmth on your back which sends shivers down your spine but you continue faking being asleep for the sake of the other. Bakugo pushes his forehead between your shoulder blades while he takes another deep breath, his arm snaking around you to pull you close for only a second before he rolls back to the other side of the bed.

Your heart does a massive flip which makes you feel nauseous; you want to roll to your other side and embrace him, soothe him, kiss him until he forgets about his terrible dream, whatever it was about; but even thought the urge is strong, you stay on your side while you listen to the blonde taking a few more deep breaths before his breathing finally evens out.

You stare into the darkness for a few minutes… or rather hours before your heart rate manages to go back to normal.

You are indeed in love with this madman. Love with a capital L. You are not even going to bother to lie to yourself anymore; the pain in your chest is a good enough reminder anyway.

By the time you wake up the next day, Katsuki is gone; he comes in after a few minutes with a tray full of different kind of breakfast foods and sits down in his side of the bed like last night has never happened.

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After the second night, sharing a bed with Bakugou isn’t as awkward anymore. You two went out a bit yesterday to snoop around the kitchen area then talked about nothing in particular while sitting in the lobby, listening to everyone’s chatter to gain intel. The day was unsuccessful but it was nice to be able to talk to the hero without being screamed at for no reason.

As soon as the blonde wakes up the next day he starts to murmur about random things, talking to no one in particular until you wake up and start to listen to his monologue.

Apparently it took Bakugou two days until he got completely fed up with restaurant food.

You knew the hero is an absolute beast in the kitchen and that he doesn’t hate cooking but you didn’t know how much the blonde needs to be able to cook to to stay sane.

“It just… calms me down, you know.” The blonde says when you ask him about his cooking after his massive bitch fit, still in bed. “I love being able to create something that fits perfectly with my taste buds. My favorite part is preparing the dish though, I can zone out and forget about all the shitty stuff while I murder a potato.”

“Wow, harsh.” You giggle, but you can’t ignore the longing in the blonde’s voice. “Do you miss being home alone?”

“Are you dumb? I’m talking about cooking.” The man grumbles with a flushed face. “I just need to find something else to focus on, otherwise I’ll loose my shit.”

“I have some ideas how to turn your focus to something else.” You grin at the grumpy blonde but you don’t move from your side of the bed to not make Katsuki completely uncomfortable. It’s just a joke anyway, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Well, thanks fucking much but I don’t do one night stands. Too old for that shit.”

“It was a joke, jeez.” You roll your eyes with a flushed cheek. “I don’t do that kind of thing either. I told you all about it on the wedding.” You remind him with a mischievous grin as the blonde looks away shyly, remembering your almost first kiss.

“Can you not remind me of that while sharing a bed with me? It’s already awkward enough.” The hero rolls out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom. Thankfully, he takes all the tension with him as well, letting you breathe properly for the first time today. You didn’t even realize the effect he had on you until he left the room.

You really want to talk to him about this, but you know it will just end up with a rejection so you decide against it; if you can prolong this for a few more weeks until you go back home and cry your eyes out in your own fucking bed in your own fucking country after leaving all of this behind… that would be nice. There is no way you can get out if this without a heartbreak, so you might as well just enjoy this until it lasts.

You also have a plan in your head to help Katsuki wind down, so you make your way down to the restaurant after putting your disguise back.

You might not be good enough to date the explosive hero, but you definitely are the best fake wife the world has ever seen.

… To be continued!

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Potato ramble:

- Sorry for the short chapter but I didn’t want to post the angsty part until I have the full thing written out and I’m still missing the last half chapter of this season. The angst will start in the next one though.

- I hope you liked the “sweet pea” reference! It’s a little something for the people who read my other series called “my weird roommate, Midoriya Izuku!”.

- I accidentally started to write an Aizawa x reader fix yesterday. I hope you guys will like it!

- I swear I have a job btw, I just use 95% of my free time to write. 😂

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! 💥🧡

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Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai @nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos @gold24fish @hanatsuki-hime

[daemon-in-my-head]

As requested by @theannoyingurge let's take a detour from our regular schedule and talk food preservation in medival settings / before everybody had a refrigerator so you can write the bg3 fic of ur dreams and be realistic even with details that keep getting in ur way:

Underground cellars/basements. No rly. They can be incredible cool even in summer or even if they're not too deep, and they've been used to ripen and store food such as wine or cheese or meat since ages. Cooling and freezing has been no new invention, we've been refrigerating food (where possible aka northern regions and those with real winters) since forever. The only difference is that it's more convenient nowadays.

Your food can't spoil if you let it rot deliberately aka fermenting. Whether it's fruits and vegetables, honey and grape wines, beer, cheese, or soy sauce. People have been using fermentation since ancient times to preserve foods. Remember Surströmming? The canned fish that smells incredibly bad? Yeah that's just fermented fish.

My personal fav: The burial method. Foods would be burried in dry soil (the deeper u go the cooler it gets) to protect from, well, the sun, but also and very importantly, pests and that stuff. Sometimes the food would also be tightly packed in salts or some marinades to infuse some flavour and to dry it out even better, it's a method still used today for food such as Graved Lachs (lit. buried salmon) a 'delicacy' and yeah shit tastes awesome actually I highly recommend trying it.

Can't have fermenting without pickling. Even ancient Romans loved pickles. Everyone knows that wine can turn into vinegar, and guess what they took advantage of. Also you can pickle pretty much everything. Fish, meat, fruits, veggies. It's edible? You can pickle it. And apparently people will.

Boiling stuff with sugar or honey, aka, making jams and jellies. Sugar can preserve food, and while they didn't have those cute lil glasses we do, they still very much enjoyed their jam. Ofc this was used primarily for sweeter foods. Strawberry jam has been used as a treat for God knows how long. You wouldn't believe how old some cake recipes really are.

Curing and smoking: a method we still very much use to this day to make sausages and prepare other sorts of meat and fish. People have ever since loved the smoke flavour and dangerous amounts of salt. Jerky is certainly no new invention.

Drying: yep. Grain, nuts, fruits, veggies. Lots of shit lasts nearly forever if its purposefully dried. Just make sure you don't screw it up and treat the not yet so dry produces carefully. Garlic ropes may keep out vampires but the biggest advantage is that it'll keep it from spoiling so fast.

And most importantly; the take only what you need approach. You need only 2 tomatoes? Only pluck 2 off the vine. You need meat 3 days from now? Well, only get it on the day you'll need it. You need bread today? Bake it today. People we're very conscious about their foods and what they needed. Doesn't hurt to leave the apple on the tree for one more day if it's not close to overripe already.

Now for the fun part, the random trivia regarding food;

Originally it was a woman's job to brew the beer

Beer can be used as food and it often was used as a cheap tavern food or in times of need

Island nations and coastal regions love to eat fresh, raw fish. A lot of culture from this region somehow includes raw fish in their cuisine for a plethora of reasons. Coastal people love their raw fish. Also algae. They do love algae too

Not a single hair on an animal was wasted. Hair = brushes, fat = soaps and cosmetics, blood = can be cooked and eaten. Blood sausages and all that stuff. Lamb's intestines were famously used as condoms. I meant it when I said everything.

The 'trash' meat aka scraps and very non tasty looking stuff was mixed with grain and fried in times where food was rare. Great source of protein and very filling.

Meat was expensive, so it was rare to come by and very much valued.

Normal middle/lower class people would often only eat the "good stuff" once a week or on special occasions.

During outbreaks of the pest and other illnesses even kids drank beer. Water was too dirty and contaminated.

In fact the primary drinks were wines, beers, ales all that stuff. Water had to be boiled first.

Pretty much everything that wasn't poisonous would be eaten by people. Wasting food really didn't happen a lot outside of the upper class.

Religion was heavily influenced by food. Meat will spoil very quickly in the deserts heat, a sober soldier fights better than a drunk one, fish is rare outside of coastal towns so it's expensive and rare, cows are much more useful if they're alive rather than dead, you took a life to feed yourself so be responsible about it, that kinda shit. Food influences religion. Has always done that.

Hope this helps or this is what u were looking for. I somehow crave Graved Lachs now so I shall hunt some in the supermarket or smth.

[mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse]

Oooo great. Can I request Dazai and Chuuya (separately) and their reaction to their s/o making them Cajun food. (Specifically a crab boil for Dazai.)

Fuuuuuck yes you can!

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai x Reader and Chuuya x Reader

Reader Type: Black coded

------------‐------------------------

A Surprise for Dazai

Cooking was something that Dazai despised. He didn't have the motivation to, it was messy, and also he lived a ten minute walk from a convenience store. Why the hell would he ever cook?

Also... There was the fact that you wouldn't let him into the kitchen even if he wanted to.

When you weren't at work or enjoying his company, you could often be found in the kitchen making Western style food. It was expensive, but that's basically what you used your allowance from him for.

Spaghetti, garlic butter, chocolate cake, and now something with crab.

You had sent him out for it, and when he came back you had kicked him out of the kitchen once more.

That had been awhile ago.

Dazai had set himself up on your shared futon, and was reading some evidence for a case while steadily draining a beer he had procured while shopping. He didn't quite have a buzz, but his shoulders had relaxed, and he felt comfortable to let his facade drop while he heard you singing along to SZA while in the next room.

"Osamu, food's on!"

He tossed his book to the side, collected his beer, and went to the cramped kitchen. "Did my lovely Belladonna toss make some hemlock spiced crab for me?"

"You wish." You pulled the table out and plucked up the pot. "Can you set that up for me?"

He did as instructed, curiosity filling him even more. You typically just served bowls if you made stews or soups. You didn't like carrying hot pots and pans everywhere, nor did you allow him to do so either as you didn't want him to get hurt.

See? You're too cute for your own good. He set up the dining table beside the futon, and let you set the pot down.

"Feels like we're about to do a seance!"

"What kinda seances do you go to, Osamu? Never mind, don't answer that." You set the pot down, and pulled off the top. "Ta da~!"

Staring back at him was a pot full of potatoes, crab, corn, and sausage. It smelled warm and salty, but had some kind of an earthy scent too.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, allowing his true expression to show for once. "A crab hot pot for me?"

"Back home we call it a crab boil." You sat down opposite him and grinned. "Happy anniversary, Osamu."

"I didn't-"

"I don't need anything fancy from you." You pushed back a stray braid, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. "I wanted to do this for you. Enjoy it."

Dazai stared at you for a long moment, before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "You're gonna be the death of me one day."

"Yeah, yeah. How about trying this?"

He opened his eyes in time to get a mouth full of potato. It was warm, and buttery, and actually delicious.

"So?"

Dazai swallowed and stole the fork from you. "Can we have this next week to?"

"Ha! I knew you'd like it."

Fin

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

Warm

Chuuya rarely had any time off. If he wasn't planning a mission, being dragged off to strange tea shops by Elise, or doing the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he was sleeping.

Actually, that's what he had been doing no less than five minutes ago until the smell of onions, celery, and tomato filled his nose.

That was a sure sign that you were home.

He dragged himself out of bed, and tossed a robe over his shoulders, before padding out of the room. And there you were, listening to some podcast in English while stirring a pot. Your back was to him, and from your relaxed shoulders and the messy bun you'd tossed your curls into, he'd say you were relaxed.

He made his footsteps audible as he entered the kitchen, causing you to twist around with a smile. "Hey, Red. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough for six hours." A yawn tore through his person, and you shook your head with a snicker. When he got ahold of his words again he gestured to the roiling steam behind you. "What'cha makin' ?"

"Gumbo! It's cold out, so I wanted you to get something warm before you headed out again."

"Ah, didn't have to do that, sweet thing. Got plenty of coffee in the office."

"I know, but," You twisted back around and the stove was shut off with a click. "you're important to me."

He fought the flush off his face as he scratched the back of his head. "Fuck, you know how to make a man feel special."

"Good! Now set the table with some bowls, please."

He did as instructed, taking out a beautiful magnolia printed set out of the China cabinet, before setting them down next to you.

It didn't take long to fill the bowl, and hand it back to Chuuya. The spice of tobasco and garlic made his mouth water.

He stole a spoon and took a bite. Warmth flooded his mouth and stomach, staving off the cold that threatened to creep through his windows and doors.

"So? How's it taste?"

"Best batch you made yet. Gonna have to write down the receipe."

"Ha, you're hilarious."

You served up your portion in a bowl, and you went over to the table. When you tried to sit down, Chuuya snatched you by the waist and sat you in his lap.

"Hey!"

"Just a second like this," He said. "Just a little longer."

He could feel your stare on his face as he took another bite of the gumbo, this time getting a mouthful of okra and sausage. Eventually you sighed and went to your own bowl. He squeezed your hip, and you dropped a hand to squeeze his wrist.

More warmth flooded his body, this one bring with it contentment.

Fin

I hope you enjoyed it! Please take some begniettes and tea on your way out~!

[jo-harrington]

This is a weird Store Manager Verse thing that will never make it into the larger story.

Store Manager Verse started with me revisiting my journey as a retail store manager but then evolved into something about…sharing food memories and experiences with someone new through Eddie and SM’s not-dates. Again, some based on personal experiences.

TW: Food/Eating, and maybe some personal growing up italian american experiences but…I’m in my feelings tonight so I need the overarching theme of showing affection through food. (Im crying into my dinner, please leave me alone).

Tonight for dinner I’m eating Chef Boyardee. Obviously the thought in this fandom immediately goes to Eddie.

I have had Chef Boyardee a grand total of once in my life before tonight. I was five years old. It was a jarring contrast versus my nonna’s homemade ravioli, and even more jarring still because she had just passed away. It was an emotional experience, and I vowed never to eat it again.

So let’s imagine now…you’re the Claire’s Store Manager now. Far away from home and living on your own. No family to cook with you, you just have your little handwritten recipe book that went from your grandma to your grandpa to you. All the family recipes, even those you haven’t memorized yet.

And here’s Eddie, who is helping you embrace your newfound independence and identity, one convenience store snack at a time. He’s enjoying seeing the brightness in your eyes and the joy. And one Sunday, after you promised to make pasta for him…you have the worst and the longest day. It was a horrible Sunday, everything that could go wrong did, including several consecutive piercings with screaming babies.

“Don’t worry Sweetheart,” Eddie soothes after hours as he’s giving you a much-needed hug. “It’s just a bad day.” He’s had his share of them now, and you reassured him after all of them.

“I just…can’t make dinner tonight,” you tell him. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

Carbonara sauce and heaps of parm. You were looking forward to it too.

“How about I take care of dinner tonight. Don’t worry. Lemme make a stop and I’ll meet you at your place.”

And he does.

He arrives at your apartment laden with bags from Bradley’s Big Buy. You expected some kind of greasy bag from a drive thru, so it’s a surprise when he sits you down on your couch with a glass of lemonade and takes full ownership of the kitchen.

You hear the pots banging, the oven going, dishes clacking.

And it smells pretty good. You’re intrigued. You knew Eddie’s cooking repertoire by now and while he certainly aced Home Ec, this didn’t seem like his wheelhouse. Color you impressed.

“Alright, close your eyes, no peeking,” he tells you. Throws a dish towel at your face to really make sure you don’t look. And he bustles out of the kitchen, juggling plates and a tray and a handful of cutlery.

Then he tells you it’s safe to look and it’s…

Easy Cheese on Crackers, and a Sara Lee All Butter Pound Cake that he’d warmed in the oven, and two bowls of Spaghetti-O’s.

You can’t help but laugh. A silly little giggle. Your heart…so full.

“Eddie this is…”

“I did good didn’t I? We haven’t had any of this.”

He’s beaming.

How can you tell him…that you hate Chef Boyardee?

You tried it once. Begged for it at the store. But it was the antithesis of your upbringing. Of your grandma in the basement kitchen making homemade sausage once a week or grandpa who came home from the home from his factory job and opened can after can of tomatoes to make a big pot of sauce for the whole family.

He let you take a heel of a loaf of bread to dunk as it bubbled on the stove. A secret to be kept between the two of you. None of your cousins ever got the honor.

How could canned pasta ever hold a candle to that?

Still you fawn over the dinner, over Eddie’s efforts. You fully savor the tacky, savory easy cheez on ritz and even pretend you’re being a little naughty by indulging in dessert first with the pound cake.

You just can’t hide your lackluster reaction when it’s time to put the pasta…if you can call it that…into your body.

“This is a treat,” Eddie explains enthusiastically. “Mom didn't really like the Beef Ravioli but Spaghetti-os were her favorite. And then when she was gone, Rick always had a few cans in the cupboard to surprise me for an after school snack. Shit I’m pretty sure he still does.”

He scarfs down the delicacy and your stomach turns further when you realize…

You cant disappoint him like this.

So you load up the spoon and you cringe a little as you raise it to your mouth. And you think about…Eddie being more important than your stupid snobbish childhood.

He stares at you as you take that first bite.

And it’s…perfect.

You’re not at the stove with your grandpa. You’re not with your family. You’re with Eddie. A different experience but nonetheless important and special.

You can see him sitting at the table after school, doodling on his homework sheets instead of doing math as he shoveled spoonfuls of the too-sweet sauce and noodles onto his mouth. You can see Rick mixing a pitcher of Country Time lemonade for Eddie’s mom so she could kick her feet up and listen to records with an ice cold glass after her shift. You can see them all enjoying pound cake on a special occasion; maybe Eddie getting an A on a test or his mom’s birthday or something.

It’s his life, his history that he shares with you willingly. Just like you share yours so openly with him.

“Well?” He asks. “Verdict?”

And what else could you say? But how you feel? About the spaghetti-os. About the little ritual the two of you had started. About…about Eddie himself, even though you couldn’t admit it outright just yet.

“I love it.”

[slasherhoe87]

Slashers reaction to s/o who likes bdsm? Preferably Michael, Bo, Hannibal, and Norman Bates

I love your first fanfic! It's so sad and cute 😭

Hey. Thanks for enjoying my previous fic. I'll gladly do your request but I hope you don't mind... I have to skip Norman as I have only watched Psycho once or twice and don't know his character well.

Slightly NSFW / GN!reader

SLASHERS WITH A S/O INTO BDSM:

MICHAEL MYERS (OG/Peepaw):

Michael stared at his bowl of delicious, creamy, homemade, herby tomato soup you had put in front of him a minute ago

This was gonna be good

He was just about to bring a spoonful of the thick, aromatic goodness to his lips when he felt a pair of eyes boring into the side of his unmasked face

Lowering his spoon back down into his bowl he slowly turned his head towards you to return the stare, letting out a grunt in aknowledgement

You looked nervous, uncertain as you sat on the sofa

After a minute of you not being able to get your words out, Michael huffed in annoyance and scooped up the soup again

Just as the red deliciousness was about to finally grace his lips you spoke up

"I want to try something in the bedroom with you" the words came out tentatively

You hoped Michael would be open to the idea of BDSM - he certainly liked it rough enough to begin with... but you never know

Michael dropped his spoon again and bored his eye/s into your own, both curious about your desire and frustrated at him not getting enjoy his damn soup

He tilted his head as a go ahead for you to proceed

"BDSM... it is something I really enjoy aaand I want to experience it with you. But if you don't think you'd enjoy that then its okay, no worries" you smiled at him as your index finger traced absentminded circles on the arm of the sofa

You desperately hoped he would want to try it out with you. You had an itch only a dominant male like Michael could satisfy

Although Michael had never experienced BDSM, he knew what it was about and what it all entailed. And to say he was surprised that his sweet s/o had a penchant for more extreme sex?

His cock grew as hard as a rock instantly

To have you bound, restrained, helpless and so at his mercy and whims - bringing your quivering body to orgasm with pleasure and pain... he was practically salivating at the mouth

Michael turned back to his bowl of soup and finally started eating, his mind delving deep into dark, sinister sexual thoughts about you

Before he focused back on his soup you saw the dark, heavy and heated look in his eye/s. You smiled to yourself - the seed had been planted and now it need only take root

Little did you know that later that night Michael did not leave the house to kill, he instead stalked towards the direction of Doug's Hardware Store which conveniently sat right next to Kinkdom Adult Toy shop - two places which housed everything he would need

BO SINCLAIR:

When you had told Bo that you wanted to be restrained and at his mercy, bound in the now unused and dusty chair that sat in his little lair beneath the shop his eyebrows skyrocketed to his hairline

You? His innocent, sweet little y/n?

His body instantly responded - white-hot heat bloomed and pooled to the pit of his stomach and groin

His gaze darkened and he pinned you with his heavy stare

But he had to be sure you meant it, because if you did then you had to know what you'd be getting yourself into with him

Bo leaned back against the kitchen counter as he looked directly into your big doe eyes. "Shit, baby... you sure? Really sure? Don't be teasing me with the prospect if you ain't 100% sure about this"

You assured him that you indulged in BDSM regularly before you had become a part of the Sinclair trio and that you craved his ruthless touch. Craved his fingers and tools that would drag you to both heaven and hell

Bo stepped towards you and firmly grasped your jaw in his big hand, his aura of dominance engulfing your eager form

"Well then darlin', let's go to our lair and fix it up some - don't want our playtime ruined by dust and dirt"

As you swept the floor of his 'play room' and the two of you discussed your safe word and what you would and wouldn't feel comfortable with your nethers clenched in anticipation for tonight's blissful torment

HANNIBAL LECTER (OG/MADS):

You were both spent, laying draped in one another's arms in his king sized bed, luxuriating in post-coital bliss when you brought up the topic of BDSM and how you wanted to indulge in it with Hannibal

Hannibal was only somewhat surprised by this revelation as you had already shown him you enjoyed more extreme sexual escapades in the bedroom next to vanilla love-making

Initially he thought that it would be him to bring up the topic but it mattered not anymore as he was most pleased by your admission

The following evening Hannibal took you by your hand down to his somewhat forbidden basement

He did not forbid you from entering the basement as you knew of his "meat" eating tendecies - he only asked you to use caution as there was dangerous equipment and machinery about

Your curiosity turned to intrigue when he stopped the both of you before a previously hidden black metal door

"Are you ready to see what awaits you behind this door, love?" He asks with a subtle cheeky smirk

You eagerly nod, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. Your eyes widen to saucers and you gasp as Hannibal pushes open the heavy door and flicks on a light switch that envelops the dark room in sinister red lighting

You trace your fingers along the well-made heavy BDSM furniture which no doubt cost thousands to have made. Every contraption, tool, toy and furniture piece fit for the darkest of carnal pleasures sat proudly in the room

Hell's pleasure room indeed

Hannibal stood back, hands in the pockets of his well-tailored trousers, a pleased smile gracing his elegant features

Hannibal's dungeon was everything you could've hoped for and more

Your body grew taut, your nipples hardening and your nethers moistening as your imagination ran wild with the thoughts of what painful delights Hannibal would inflict on your bound, submissive body

Walking back over to Hannibal you pulled him down for a searing kiss before the two of you stepped back further in to the room to discuss the what your body would be enduring by Hannibal's unforgiving hands