#I am going to bake BREAD when this is done and it is GOING to be done because otherwise GROCERIES WILL HAVE BEEN WASTED

[alpaca-clouds]

How to cook in a medieval setting

Alright. As some of the people, who follow me for a longer while know... I do have opinions about cooking in historical settings. For everyone else a bit of backstory: When I was still LARPing, I would usually come to LARP as a camp cook, making somewhat historically accurate food and selling it for ingame coin. As such I know a bit about how to cook with a historical set up. And given I am getting so much into DnD and DnD stories right now, let me share a bit for those who might be interested (for example for stories and such).

🍲Cooking at Home

First things first: For the longest time in history most people did not have actual kitchens. Because actual kitchens were rather rare. Most people cooked their food over their one fireplace at home, which looked something like what you see above. There was something made of metal hanging over the fireplace. At times this was on hinges and movable, at times it was set in place. You could hang pots and kettles over it. When it came to pans, people either had a mount they would put over the fire or some kind of grid they could easily put into place there with some sourts of mounts (like the two metal thingies you can see above).

If you have a modern kitchen, you are obviously used to cook on several cooktops (for most people it is probably four of them), while in this historical you obviously only had one fire. Of course, as you can also see in the picture above, you could often put two smaller pots over the flames or put in a pan onto the fire additionally. But yes, the way we cook in modern times is very different.

Because of this a lot of people often ate stews and soups of sort. You could make those in just one pot - and often could eat from the same stew for days. In a lot of taverns the people had an "everything stew" going, which worked on the idea that everyone just brought their food leftovers, which were all put into one pot everyone would eat from.

Now, some alert readers might have also noticed something: What about bread and pastries? If you only have one fireplace and no oven, how did people make bread?

Well, there were usually three different methods for this. The most common one was communal ovens. Often people had one communal oven in a neighborhood. Especially in a village there might just be a communal oven everyone would just put their bread in to bake. (Though often this oven would only be fired up once or twice a week.)

The second version to deal with this some people used was a sort of what we today call a dutch oven. A pot made either of metal or clay with a lit you would put into the hot coals and then put bread or pastries into that, baking it like that.

There was also a version where people just baked bread in pans on the fire, rotating the bread during the baking process. At least some written accounts we have seem to imply. (Never tried this method, though. I have no idea how this might work. My camp bread was mostly done in dutch ovens or as stickbread.)

Keep in mind that the fireplace at home was very important for the people in historical times. Because it was their one source of warmth in the house.

🏕️ Cooking at Camp

Technically speaking cooking at camp is not that different - with the exception of course that you have to drag all your supplies along. And while in Baldur's Gate 3 and most other videogames you can carry around several sets of full-plate armor and several pounds of ingredients so that dear Gale can whip something up... In real life as an adventurer running around you need to make decisions on what to take along.

If you have read Lord of the Rings, you might remember how many people have criticized Sam for actually dragging all his cooking supplies along and how sad he was for not being able to cook for most of the time, because they were very limited in taking ingredients along.

So, yes, if you are an adventurer who is camping out in the open, you will probably need to do a lot of hunting and gathering to eat during your travels. You can take food for a couple of days along, but not for a lot.

A special challenge is of course, that while you can cook food for several days when you are at homes, you do not want to drag along a prepared stew for several days. So usually you will cook in smaller batches.

A lot of people who were journeying would often just take along one or two pots along.

So, what would you eat as an adventurer travelling around while trying to save the world from some evil forces? Well, it would depend on the time of the year of course. You would probably hunt yourself some food. For example hares, birds or squirrels. Mostly small things you can eat within one or two days. You do not want to drag along half a dead deer. In the warm months you might also forrage for all sorts of greens. You also can cook with many sorts of roots. Of course you can also always look into berries and other fruits you might find.

Things you might bring with you might be salt and some spices. A good thing to bring along would be herbs for tea, too, because I can tell you from experience that water you might have gotten from a river does not always taste very well - and springs with fresh water are often not accessible.

Now, other than what you can access the basic ideas of camping fires and cooking with them has not changed in the last few thousand years. While modern people camping usually have a car nearby and hence will have access to a lot of ingredients. But the general ideas of how to build a fire and put a pot over it... has not really changed.

So, yeah.

Just keep in mind that for the most part in historical settings until fairly recently, there was not much terms of proper kitchens. People cooked over an open fire and hence had to get at times ingenius about it.

#dungeons & dragons #baldurs gate 3 #lord of the rings #medieval europe #medieval #cooking #medieval cooking #food history #historical settings #history #european history #writing #fantasy #writing resources

[lincolndjarin]

my way.

pairing : oberyn martell x f!reader

summary : being the prince of dorne can often be a rather stressful job, it's hard to give, and give, and give. sometimes you just need to be on the receiving end for a little while.

warnings, tags, etc : five seconds of plot to build up to a whole lot of porn, pegging (obvi), medieval strap on, glass toys, fingering, oberyn sucks the strap, allusions to other partners, referring to a dildo as a cock, multiple orgasms, overstimulation if you squint, premature ejaculation?? idk he cums fast bc i'm a sucker for that, cum play, reader has brief penis envy idk if that's the term but yeah, spit as lube bc its the olden days or whatever, anal sex, soft & loving sex, sort of a gentle dom vibe from reader, they're married <3 <3 <3, aftercare, i didn't really edit this as much as i should have (i'm sleepy) so apologies in advance

a/n : hello lovelies !!!! i am back from my little break with a little middle aged man pegging!! check out @wannab-urs who put together this entire project for a full masterlist of everyones works soon <3 apologies if i'm a little rusty i'm still getting back into my writing groove :3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Everything always has to be his way. 

If you didn’t love him so much it would probably irritate you more. And when it does bother you he always does his best to fix it but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Your sweet prince has always done right by you but he’s never done it your way, and when things don’t go exactly as he wants them to he becomes a real pain. 

You know it isn’t entirely his fault of course. The combination of never being told no and having to make decisions that affect the people of Dorne in real time, often leaves him stressed beyond comprehension. 

Today it seems to be particularly bad as he paces around your shared chambers. You had spent your day reading and baking bread, everything had been perfectly fine until he burst through the door, rambling about a funding dispute he’s been having with his brother for weeks now. You can tell by the glint in his eye that things clearly aren’t going his way, before you get a chance to comfort him he snaps at you. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” It’s a small critique, you have been staring at him waiting for this sort of thing, so you take control of the situation rather quickly. 

“Let me give you a chance to apologize before this becomes a fight.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. He immediately picks up on the annoyance in your voice as his features soften from anger to shame. 

“I’m sorry.” He really means it as he bows his head a bit. “It’s just- It’s been a difficult day.” He makes his way over to you, taking one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. “I’m sorry, my stars.”

“I know, my moon, it’s okay.” You move the hand he holds to his lips, cradling his face briefly as he smiles, to your dismay it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s still tense. 

“I think I’d go mad if I didn’t get to come home to you each day.” You don’t doubt that. 

“Why don’t you let me help you out a little?” You wrap your arms around him, letting your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. “Let me take care of you.” You barely speak above a whisper now as his body starts to relax in response to your touch. He walks you towards the bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, just as expected he immediately takes control of the situation, barely letting you get another word in as his hands slide down your waist like they’ve done countless times before except this time you catch his wrists before he can get that far. “Can you lay down for me?” The moment you ask the question he raises an eyebrow before complying, moving to sit with his back against the headboard as you go to your nightstand. 

You’ve used the toy a few times before with your other partners but as far as you know Oberyn’s never even seen it. You haven’t made any effort to hide it from him but he’s always so quick to act when it’s just the two of you, he never gives you much of a chance to do anything but take what he gives. No wonder he’s so stressed, he’s never taken a moment to just receive. 

The moment you crawl up the bed to him he’s already back on you. All teeth and hands as he pulls you against him, you have to force yourself to pull away from him though it pains you greatly. 

“Not yet- I want to try something new.” You don’t give him a chance to question as you reach across him to your nightstand. You just had a new toy made, hand blown glass, for this sort of occasion, as you toss it down next to him his eyes squint in confusion before going wide. 

“Where did you get that, my love?” His words drawl a bit, his Dornish accent hangs heavy in the air as you lift your dress over your head, tossing it aside, sitting before him completely bare as you slip into the leather straps, cinching the buckles carefully before taking the toy and holding it in one hand languidly. 

“A glass smith nearby has been more than willing to experiment with his craft for me. Is this something you’re interested in trying?” You can already tell what his answer is going to be based on his expression but you still want to hear him say it. 

“Of course, I’d try anything for you.” He purrs softly as you push him back into the pillows. You lay him back, an action he’s done to you countless times before, tugging at the cords of his robe. Between the two of you, eager to get him undressed, it only takes a moment before the fabric hits the floor. Once he’s as bare as you are you’re able to see just how much the idea thrills him as his red tipped cock slaps against his stomach. 

“Do you think you can relinquish control for just a little while, my prince?” You rake your nails against his chest lightly as he nods. “Good. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, put all your focus on taking what I give you, do you understand?” You stop your hands movement downwards right as you reach the patch of hair on his lower stomach. 

“Absolutely.” He flashes you a toothy grin and you can’t help but respond with one of your own. 

“You will do as I say then. And if I ask something of you that you do not like then you will say stop, is that clear?” You want so badly to take his cock into your hands or mouth but you’re trying to be patient as you pull your hand back. This is for his sake, not yours. 

“Perfectly clear.” His hips twitch upwards a bit, almost taunting your resolve as you press him back down into the mattress. 

“Lovely,” You hum, stroking the glass toy between your fingers before bringing it to his mouth, tapping his lips. “Open.” He complies quickly, parting his lips as you slide the tip of the toy in, reveling in his moans. He looks so… right, like this. Eyes wide and eager as his tongue laps at the cool glass, tracing the ridges, legs spread, and cock twitching in excitement. You can’t help but wonder why you didn’t do this sooner. 

You push the fake cock just a little further past his lips before letting him take hold of it, turning to other matters. 

“Warm that up please, you wouldn’t want it to be cold when I fill you up.” As you murmur those words he groans against the glass. 

Unceremoniously you spit into your hand, giddy with excitement as you nudge his legs a bit further apart. You spread the plush flesh of his ass to notch your digits at his hole, gently pushing just the tip of your pointer finger in, feeling him tighten around you with a gasp. 

“Relax, my love.” You coo, waiting until his muscles release a bit before pushing onward. This isn’t your first time doing this sort of thing of course but it is the first time he’s going to be taking something other than your fingers or tongue, so you work him open slowly. Watching the stress unravel from his body as you work in a second finger, curling and scissoring them as his back arches, cock bobbing against his stomach as his fingers grip the sheets around him. 

When he’s able to take three of your fingers you pull the toy from his mouth with a soft pop, the toy slick with spit and properly warmed easily slips into the designated slot on your harness. He watches with a palpable anticipation as you get yourself situated. When you’re ready you’re kneeling between his legs, glass cock standing proudly against your pelvis. 

“Ready?” You ask as you gently lift his legs, bringing his knees to his chest as he nods, damn near whimpering. 

You push into him, slowly, as you gauge his reaction. Usually he’s all grunts and grumbles during sex but now he’s gasps and whines. His hands clutch the pillows surrounding his head as he tries to push himself further onto the toy but the position you’ve got him in keeps him in place. 

“You want more?” There’s a mocking lilt to your voice as he nods rapidly.

“Yes- please.” He purses his lips as he whimpers and you’re more than happy to oblige, watching the sight before you as his hole swallows your cock, his own dick leaking against his stomach, begging for a release. You adjust your hips a bit, watching his back attempt to arch as you do so. “Th-there.” His voice is strained as you hit that sweet spot inside of him. Ever so gently you pull out before rocking yourself back against it. 

“There? Is that what you want?” You continue to speak in a teasing tone but you truly want to know, this is all for his sake, you want so badly to make him feel good. His cheeks are flushed, warm skin slick with sweat as he continues to nod. You repeat the motion a few more times, caught off guard when he lets out a low whine and you watch as his cock pulses, untouched, as he paints his torso. His breath catches in his throat as he does so. “Oh my, look at the mess you’ve made, and so quickly.” You drag a finger over his heaving chest, scooping up some of his spend to taste, letting the bitter sweetness coat your tongue. “You were more pent up than I thought, my love. I think you still have some stress that needs releasing.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammers, looking a bit embarrassed but you immediately shake your head, leaning forward to kiss his forehead while simultaneously sinking back into him.

“Don’t apologize for feeling good, sunshine. That’s what this is all for.” You bump your nose against his, hoping to reassure him. “Do you think you could give me one more, I just want to make sure I get all the stress out.” You emphasize your words with a small push of his legs tighter against his chest, earning a soft mewl from him. 

“I can do one more.” 

“Wonderful.” You kiss his cheek before picking up the same pace you were at just moments ago. Happily watching his cock jump back to life. You take the opportunity to drag your fingers through the cum cooling on his abdomen, drawing little shapes as he begins to reach that same peak rapidly all over again. You adore the sight of your glass cock sliding in and out of him. He takes you so well, his hole fluttering as he lets you fuck him. You wish you had a real cock just so you could feel him tighten around you but this will have to do. His neglected dick continues to rest against his happy trail, desperate to be touched. This time you help him out, wrapping your hand around his cock, with a few quick pumps he’s coating his stomach in cum all over again.

It’s positively euphoric to see the prince of Dorne like this. 

Just for you. Spread before you without a care in the world, stuffed full of your cock and happy as can be.

You give him a moment to catch his breath before pulling out, peppering his cheeks with kisses before slipping out of the harness and leaving to get him some water as well as something to wipe him up with. 

You gently wipe him down with a warm washcloth, cleaning him while continuing to kiss his face as he yawns. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles, taking your face in his hands, pulling you forward for another kiss. 

“Anytime, we take care of each other, I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” You climb under the blankets with him, tangling your limbs with his as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, clearly exhausted as he falls asleep against you. You feel your own exhaustion hit, smiling to yourself as you close your eyes. You couldn’t be happier that he let you try things your way.

#PMAMC2024 #pmamc 2024 #lincolndjarin #one shot #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn / reader #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal fic #oberyn martell fic

[cookiepie111]

The bakery

König x black reader

König and his bakery own girlfriend, how I haven't done a bakery au yet is crazy. These are just a bunch of headcannons. Two slight suggestive things at the bottom but nothing crazy still under the post just to be safe. Not proofread.

~

He has the bad habit of scaring you when you're closing shop. You lock the doors and head to the kitchen to get started with the clean-up when you hear rattling and footsteps. It must be in your head... that doesn't stop you from arming yourself with the heavy rolling pin.

"Hello!"

"Agh!" Your swing is stopped."You have to aim for the head schatz, " tapping the end of the rolling pin at his head with a Droopy smile. You're glad he isn't wearing his balaclava it would have really given you a heart attack

"König! Just call me next time. I'll let you"

" and ruin the surprise! You should just leave the door open"

"No! The surprise in question being scaring me?"

"Flowers!"

You sigh. "Just wait, I'm almost done"

~

Birthday are something he can look forward to now. You make him a cake Esterházy torte every year the same thing since he likes it so much. When his birthday falls on a work day, you pack up a slice for him to take in.

~

He likes the smell you carry. each week it's something new flour, fresh bread or chocolate. It's not always so romantic. Sometimes, you come home smelling like yeast and butter.

~

Pulling you away from the kitchen when you're stressing has become a semi common occurrence.

~

In the early days of your bakery, you had to do everything alone, hauling tables and chairs, now you have könig! He has no problem building them, rearranging the furniture, helping you carry heavy ingredients to the back of the kitchen

~

The two of you have similar morning routines. A 5 am start! It's a habit for könig, so he'll go on his morning run, and freshly baked bread is waiting for him when he gets home

~

Your fridge becomes a strange mix of almost only meats and butter. One day, you both look at the fridge and agree you need a second one after realising you have no other ingredients.

~

Will pull you back to bed somedays where he's feeling extra clinging or feels you've been working too hard, so you don't open shop. You have to deal with some pretty annoyed customers the next day

~

He doesn't bake but does take up cooking more.

~

You tried making him some healthier bakes for when he's cutting. He spat it out so fast, thought you were playing a prank on him

" Never do this again." he'll take enjoy the full fat bakes please.

~

Has tried to fuck you in the kitchen. Getting all handys and kissing along your neck, you quickly realise where this is going and have to shut it down, prying him off of you"König no!"

Wants to do food play with you, but you're strongly against it! You never thought you'd see the day könig would pout, but here he is, body weight pressed tight around you, clinging to your waist, "please Schatz"

"No, I'm not letting you lick cream off me. It's weird"

" I'd let you lick cream off my nip-"

"Oh my, out!"

#könig x black reader #cod x black reader #könig x reader #x black reader #black reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x black reader #könig imagine #my writing

[rosainta]

Team Fortress 2: 12 Flash Fiction Excerpts

('ms pauling' by makani on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/makani/art/ms-pauling-208768568)

(Author's Notes (A/N) at the end. For now, enjoy these slices of TF2 writing cake, baked with the batter of my mind!) * * *

1 "The Runner's a Fool."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Scout’s heart was bursting as he ran through the underbrush.

He didn’t look back; he couldn’t. Not after what he saw. If he had known sooner, he might not have spent so much energy trying to woo her...

Maybe he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself.

2 "Player of The Heart."

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Fine, one more time”, he grumbled.

Pauling gleamed as she turned to the tape player. Changing the song to something more romantic, she hummed along and placed herself into his arms. They began to sway with the music.

Sniper felt his heart racing, but his thoughts raced quicker.

He wondered: would the one he really loved be into this too?

3 "Long Overdue."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Spy knew what he had to do.

He sat down next to the crying boy, gently putting a hand on his back. “Screw off!” the younger yelled, pushing him away.

Seeing him like this broke him; it did every time. But he took a deep breath and said what he should have all those years ago:

“I am sorry, Scout.”

4 "What Happens if You Feed the Machine? (Or In This Case, Water It?)"

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Yer no fun, lad!”

“Come on now, you know how I’ve been goin’ dry...”

“What’s one bottle a’ scrumpy goin’ to do to you?”

“Well, let’s see here. How many eyeballs o’ yours do my teleporters teleport per use?”

“Er, one.”

“Well, expect that to be one less the next time ‘round, pardner.”

He chuckled, and in an instant, he gulped it all down.

5 "Soldier's Solace."

[Written 11-3-2024]

Soldier stared at the grand moon from the roof of the base.

After the day’s fighting and bread teleporting, the other mercenaries were off to bed. But Soldier remained, smiling contentedly from under his helmet without another care in the world.

Somehow, he knew that right then and for as long as he dreamed, everything would be alright.

6 "Буквы говорят о любви."

[Written 12-3-2024]

If Heavy learned one thing in all his years of studying Russian literature, it was that writing wasn’t something you did; it was something you became.

So, picking up the ink pen, he let his hand go and embodied with all he had what meant most to him.

“It is time I tell you, Doktor.”

7 "Like The Warmth of a Fireplace."

[Written 13-3-2024]

Pyro looked at Engineer as a child does a Mall Santa, clapping. “Huddah, huddah!”

“Okay, one more, just for you.”

The technician took a deep breath and began to strum on the old guitar, his low voice singing a song of pink skies. Pyro swayed to the beat in bliss.

And, with every hum, the two grew closer.

8 "A Smile Means A Million Words, That Is Until You Speak."

[Written 14-3-2024]

Scout liked sketching.

While words weren’t his forte, art allowed him to express what he felt but could never say. He licked his lips, furrowed his eyebrows, and furiously scratched at the page with a pencil. Every detail, every form-- they had to be perfect.

When he was done, he proudly smiled at his creation.

And it smiled back.

BONUS!

As he admired his creation, he didn’t notice Sniper approaching him.

“And just what are you scribblin' off today, mate?”

Scout snapped around, flustered. He wasn't expecting company, and especially not from him.

“A-ah, hey, Snipes!", he blurted out. "It's nothing, really. Just another drawing of Spy screwin’ those... stupid French bread swords, whatever ya' call 'em.”

As he stammered an excuse, his face slowly turning red, he didn’t realize that his creation's rough, sketched face-- a picture of the marksman himself!-- was peaking through the corner of the sketchbook in the crook of his arm. Sniper paused for a moment as he stared at the work in awe, its own happily gazing back at him. Then, snapping out of his trance, he wordlessly turned back to smile at the younger man.

“You’ve got some talent, kid," he said, softly. "Please, don’t waste it.”

Then, quick as he came, he ambled away.

Scout was left standing, bewildered, and admittedly a bit confused, and he slowly turned back to look back at his drawing.

He traced the rough face of the man, looking wistfully with a tinge of giddiness in his eyes.

“If only you knew...", he whispered to himself without thinking. "Maybe then I could draw you like one of my French girls.”

Then, upon realizing the stupidity of his own remark (and of its disgusting, Spy-related... Frenchness), he immediately gagged.

“Ew, crap, no!”

Somewhere in the distance, Spy instinctively rolled his eyes.

9 "I Feel Olive!"

[Written 15-3-2024]

Medic pinched his nose, a low groan rumbling from him.

"What is wrong, Doktor? You seem stressed", Heavy asked, concernedly lifting his nose from his book.

Medic turned to him, tired eyes smiling weakly. "Ah, it iz nothing. Just... ze dull, useless legal documents. You know, as per usual."

"Well, if it makes Medic feel any better, Heavy ran out of olive for sandvich, so eating it was practically useless! I could not even digest it without big frown", he said, frowning in turn.

He grumbled, continuing, "What Heavy means to say is... you are not alone in your troubles."

Medic paused for a bit, before laughing and grinning back at the giant. He was grateful for this goofy big old man.

"Oh, you alvays know what to say, Heavy. Come on, let us escape this prison of an office and find you that olive. I am getting quite hungry and ze papers can wait, after all!"

10 "Off-Target."

[Written 29-3-2024]

Scout's mind just. couldn't. think.

His head was jumbled, a puzzle with the pieces too lost in the messy maze of his brain ever to solve. He wished he could crack open his skull like he did the BLUs on the field; maybe that would knock some sense into him.

He really needed to focus. Sniper always did.

So, why couldn't he?

11 "Our Paths Shall Cross Again."

[Written 4-4-2024]

It pained him to see her like this.

So, for the first time in his life, he put his pride aside and took one last glance at the sleeping lady before leaving the room.

Scout wished he could stay all night and marvel at her familiar, sheer beauty, even as she slept so frail. But he knew what she needed most was not him, but help.

Who knew what she went through those 2 years?

He resigned himself to the couch, closing his eyes. His affections for Miss Pauling would have to wait, as they always did, but he was fine with that.

She was safe, and that’s what mattered most to him.

12 "Guess Who's Up For Surgery?"

[Written 6-4-2024]

Medic was practically laughing with joy! Or, in his peculiar case, cackling maniacally.

Ah, it was of no matter— the doctor was filled to the brim with inspiration! So many projects to start and bodies to stitch; oh, what a wonderful feeling!

Heavy smiled as he watched the doctor go about his merry way.

Sure, when he was in this mood, that likely meant imminent danger for all those around him (they’d be his newest experiment, no doubt), but seeing him happy always made Heavy’s heart feel a little lighter.

So, as the doctor bounced up to him with his newest rambling, he didn’t protest!

* * *

Author's Notes: Over the past weeks, I've been working on being more spontaneous in my writing—no planning, just writing with the flow! And what better way to do that than to write flash fiction about my favourite fandom? (Plus, I have been practically absent here (post-wise) for, what, months? So why not use this as an excuse to share them with you? Ehehe... Okay, let's forget I said anything; moving on!) Flash fiction, with its creative liberties and curt nature, is an excellent medium (not forgetting to mention the fact it's a disgracefully UNDERRATED form of media!) that inspires me to write because it sort of... brutally invalidates any excuse of author's block I have... since it is literally spilling the words from your conscience into text WITHOUT the worry of length (ah! My greatest enemies...). Plus, it is... sort of, maybe, kinda addicting because it's just so freakishly simple, and the more you do it, the more productive you'll be and feel! Isn't that wonderful? (It could even be a drug! Er, well, a good one... wait, is there even a thing as a good drug? Ah- nevermind.) Anyway, if you're struggling with author's block, I'd heavily recommend trying it. Of course, it may not work for everyone (and I am not here to legally endorse this like a paid sponsor!) but it's still worth a shot if you haven't yet already. And hey, if it doesn't, you can feel free to blame me for the waste of time! Don't worry, I won't mind. Before we go on, I have to take this moment now to thank the one sweet old woman (whom I've unfortunately forgotten the name of) who first taught me about it a few years back during a summer writing course. She taught me much about what I know and love today, so I owe this and much of my writing happiness and technique to her! Thank you, lady. May you continue to write on!! Anyhow, to give you more context, these are all excerpts taken from a private account (but not a secret one! It's out there... somewhere...) of mine, edited for quality purposes and also because a few of the original excerpts bugged me due to their... well, innate cringiness. Hopefully, there's less of it now, but I wouldn't count on my eradicating it as it seems that cringe is just a part of my habitual writing style (I am sorry to disappoint, unnamed woman from the course... I have failed you). I hope that at least is is bearable enough for you to read. However, if not, I offer you my greatest condolences. If you'd like some bleach for your eyes, I have that too. You can also tell by the number of Speeding Bullet and Red Oktoberfest excerpts that I was... in quite the shipping mood for some of them. So, if that doesn't bug you, feel free to indulge yourselves in these characters as I obsessively have over the course of writing these!! It would be my pleasure to offer that liberty to you (and perhaps, shamelessly to myself as well, ahaha..), so please, go ahead. Anyway, that's all of the random blurbs I have to ramble on about today. Thank you for reading- or skimming, at the very least- and please have a marvellous day, pally~!

~ Rosain Quivan

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 miss pauling #writing #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #rosain quivan's daily logs #flash fiction #short story #thank you unnamed woman from the course #please forgive the cringe #first post in a while #sniper x scout #speeding bullet #red oktoberfest #heavy x medic

[nhlclover]

bakeoff sparks fly au

✭ — summary: despite being back home for the holidays, sofia can't stop thinking about rutger

✭ — warnings: manic baking, overthinking

✭ — a/n: sofia is going through it

✭ — word count: 0.88k

This was the first time since the summer that all three Fantilli kids were back in Toronto, all sleeping under the same roof. Michigan was now on winter break and the 4 day holiday freeze was in effect in the NHL. It didn’t take long for the three siblings to fall back into their regular habits, playing board games whenever they got the chance, as well as heading to the ODR and playing unregulated games of hockey.

“Sof, you up?” Sofia heard Adam’s voice come through the door.

Despite being almost noon, Sofia was not up, using the break as a way to catch up on her sleep schedule. She groaned loudly, pulling her comforter over her head. She heard the door click open and her bedding ripped off her bed, exposing her body to the cold air.

“Adam!” She whined, grasping for her comforter.

“Luca and I are going shopping wanna come?” Adam asked, holding the bedding out of her grasp.

“Are you guys not done Christmas shopping yet?” Sofia asks

“I am, but Luca forgot a gift for Dad.” Adam tells her.

Sofia rolls her eyes. “No, I’m gonna stay in and wrap some presents.”

Adam drops her bedding, allowing Sofia to wrap herself in her blankets. “Text me if you need anything.” He says, leaving her room.

Sofia attempts to fall back to sleep but finds herself completely awake. She forced herself out of bed and headed downstairs to get breakfast.

It didn’t take long before the thought of him was back. The entire time Sofia had been home, memories of Rutger haunted her. Random reminders of him would come to mind, summoning the memories of her rejection. Her hands would begin to sweat, her heart beating at an unusual pace.

Every time she thought of him, she was reminded of the rejection. Because it wasn’t just a rejection. Rutger, at the same time, rejected Sofia and made her feel small. Like she was her brother's annoying little sister. Sofia hated how much he was occupying her mind.

When Luca and Adam come through the front door, they’re met with the strong smell of vanilla and loud music. Pulling off their shoes, they venture to the kitchen only to be met with chaos.

There are various ingredients scattered on the counters, with dishes stacked in the sink. In the middle of everything is Sofia, her pinstripe apron that was once a gift from Luca and Adam is covered in flour, her hair thrown up into a claw clip. Zach Bryan is blaring through her phone while she’s whipping something in a bowl.

“Sof!” Adam calls to her, finally drawing her attention as she hadn’t noticed they’d come home.

“Hey!” She grins.

Suddenly there’s a timer going off, sending Sofia to the oven. She puts on a pair of oven mitts, removing a tray of cookies from the oven.

The pair of brothers exchange a slightly worried look. They recognize this behaviour but it seems misplaced. Sofia has a habit of baking when she’s stressed or anxious. She baked during her high school exams and just before Adam was drafted. When she stress bakes, she goes HAM. She bakes four or five different things, from muffins to cookies, and often a type of bread.

However, to Luca and Adam, she had no reason to be stressed. She was done with exams and had gotten her marks back indicating a successful semester.

“Sof, what are you doing?” Luca asked.

“Baking!” Sofia smiles. “I’ve got shortbread cookies baking in the oven, some gingerbread cookies that I’m letting cool before frosting— ooh! You guys can help decorate if you want! And then the dough for cinnamon rolls is rising in the fridge.”

Sofia resumes her task of cutting out gingerbread men figures, singing aloud to ‘Revival’.

“What’s wrong with her?” Adam asks Luca, keeping his voice low so that Sofia wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure… she was fine yesterday.” Luca tells him.

The boys take off their coats, heading up to Adam’s room to wrap presents and figure out what’s wrong with Sofia.

“I have nothing, she was fine when we came home, she hasn’t baked or even cooked until today.” Luca told Adam.

Adam shook his head. Something was wrong with his sister. “What about at school? Did something happen?” He asked.

Luca thought back to Halloween. “Well…”

“Well, what? What happened?” Adam pried.

“It was just…at a Halloween party, this dude was harassing her but nothing happened. Rutger intervened and fucking almost fought the guy for her,” Luca explained. “But that was way back in October, it couldn’t still be bothering her.”

“Listen, dude, if she keeps this up after I’m gone, you need to talk to her.” Adam tells him.

“She won’t tell me, why don’t you ask her now?” Luca asked.

“C’mon, man. We both know which one of us she goes to when she’s upset.” Adam says.

Sure, Adam and Sofia were twins and often found solace in the other, however, Sofia always found that her older brother always knew what to say. Luca was the one she turned to whenever she needed advice or guidance. Adam was right, out of the two of them Luca was more likely to get any answers out of Sofia.

#sparks fly au! #sofia x rutger #rutger mcgroarty

[decolonize-the-left]

Okay, I'm also a little on the confused train. I vote third party and independent in my local elections when their policies (as they often are) are better than the local democrats. I vote for some local democrats when they, as in my community they happen to be, black activists who organized the entire of the blm movement in my city and then moved to campaigning for city council and stuff. I participate in mutual aid, I use my free time to bake bread for, and then deliver the bread and naltrexone to unhoused encampments. I advocate for every school in my area to teach actual native history. I distribute land back and esims for gaza pamphlets all over my city. I volunteer at soup kitchens a couple times a month, ect. I "donate" monthly "rent" to the tribes on whos land i live. I am currently at the least protest voting uncommitted in my states primary.

But like, I do bump up against... I don't want to vote for Biden. But if Trump wins, he's states he's going to put his everything into not only the genocide in Palestine, but hella racist internal policies beyond what we already have, stripping voting rights, stripping any existing social safety nets, removing anit hate crime protections, ect

So like. Yes. I am thinking about how indigenous communities would be impacted, at least in the short term. Among many others.

My final vote isn't decided yet

Do you really think it will prevent harm to vulnerable people to risk another trump term?

Not trying to be an asshole, asking you bc I respect you

*scare quotes are to imply that I think that language is shallow and not useful but I don't know what else to say

Please don't block me I'm being completely sincere about being deeply empathetic to your anger and share in it, but also confused and scared about the right course of action and the reasoning behind it

My opinions stem from my own organizing and activism.

I think it's going over a lot of heads that the same way we organize for landback or BLM and leave zines around to have progress in dismantling those, we ALSO need to be organizing behind 3rd party candidates to dismantle the 2 party system.

Like how helpful would it be to Any of those causes if someone said that instead of organizing for landback or donating or helping houseless people you should just vote for Biden?

That'd be ridiculous. Biden doesn't have any intention of significantly helping with any of those things and he's no substitute for the activism that's being done or still needed right?

So why are we as organizers accepting this logic when it comes to one of the most powerful positions in the world?

Why are we settling and saying he's the "realistic" choice and accepting it when we Know there are other options and avenues because we've Already worked in them?

I don't understand this and if You could shed some light I would in All Honesty appreciate it.

It's ACTUALLY confusing as hell to me that people I respect and work with and see as peers and comrades think that harm reduction is the best way to vote. It's confusing that instead of advocating for other avenues and educating people about other options or working for 3rd party campaigns or leaving educational zines around throughout election cycles and campaigns..... They say they're just gonna vote for Biden.

Yeah Trump sucks. I'd never deny that. I'd never deny he's dangerous. I just Also don't see how Blue Fascism is different from Red Fascism. It's all fascism and idk why we think Blue Fascism is an acceptable trade off when we literally Do Not have to keep making this trade.

The fact so many of us regularly feel like we don't have a choice is a testament to democracy already being dead, you know? Idk what we're saying 'yeah but the other fascists could be worse so let's just keep our heads down' as leftists.

I'm gonna be very real here, my concern is the future of humanity at this point. Point blank. White supremacy is an evil ideology that has harmed every person it touches while also making sure they help perpetuate it. In the last 5 years I've watched Nazis come back, several genocides, climate change and the death of winter, and police kill a man trying to protect a forest. Our president is more concerned with his campaign than the people he's killing or the families he's exploiting to do it.

Someone is going to have to risk something in order to stop a machine this big from killing all of us. The earth my child is going to inherit is going to be unrecognizable to me. She'll be lucky if she's never a climate refugee, just as it's Only luck that she's here in the first place after the USA tried to kill off the native Americans.

My concern is Everyone. And I know it seems backwards as hell to risk something so awful, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices to have something better.

I'd give anything to save my daughter from the future she's currently on track to inherit. And that doesn't mean that I don't love her. It's a testament to how much worse I genuinely believe things will get if we continue down this path accepting anything As Long As It's Not As Awful As It Could Be.

We would lie down and Vote to have robot dogs surveil our neighborhoods for immigrants and drag queens at this point "as long as it's not trump" and doesn't that terrify you more than he does?

It terrifies me.

There's no way that's harm reduction when we are NOT being harmed that way right now. That's Increasing the harm. A harm guarantee that you were tricked you into signing under threat of something worse.

#asked #answered #electoral politics #trump #leftist #socialist #anarchist #communist

[hasufin]

State of failure

I am currently making hardtack.

This is a mistake. The year is 2023 and there is no good reason to make hardtack. The stuff is an inherently bad idea. There is no practical use for hardtack which is not met today by a product which is superior in every way.

Hardtack existed as a solution for a particular time and application: a way to create portable calories which did not require any cooking in situ, which could be transported in almost any condition, and could be stored for years at a time with no significant detriment.

Today, we have a great many options to meet these requirements. We have MREs. Canned foods. Dehydrated foods. UHT packaging. Freeze-drying. Energy bars. Every one of these options manage to be better-tasting, more nutritious, and just overall more pleasant than hardtack.

Throughout much of history, the idea of going an extended period of time without being able to cook at all would have been ridiculous. What could your circumstances be, that you could not, just once every few days, start a fire? and if you can start a fire you can, at minimum, make waybread. Which isn’t particularly pleasant, sure, but is worlds better than hardtack.

But for a certain period of time, hardtack was indeed the solution. it’s mostly synonymous with sailor’s food, but was also a significant part of a soldier’s diet; certain forms of the stuff, known as “hard biscuit” were used even through WWII. It does have its advantages, mainly in durability. Actually, that’s pretty much it. Hardtack, if kept dry and free of insects, will last pretty much indefinitely.

What, you may wonder, is hardtack?

Well. It’s basically the worst, most basic form of bread you can imagine. It’s unleavened and as dry as possible. It consists of nothing but flour and salt, with just enough water to form into a stiff dough, then baked and dried. That’s literally it.

The hardtack above used 2 cups of whole wheat flour (plus a bit more for the working surface), about a teaspoon of salt, and somewhere between 1/2 and 5/8 of a cup of water.

I combined the salt with the flour. Note - no fat, no sweetener, no flavoring, no leavening. Then, I added half a cup of water and proceeded to knead it. And knead it. And knead it some more. It is impossible to overknead hardtack, because it’s going to be indistinguishable from masonry no matter what you do.

Now, there is some skill to this. You’re up against two competing needs. First, you must make your hardtack as dry as possible. Water is your enemy. If there is water, it could mold, or grow bacteria, or fungus.

On the other hand, you want your dough to be completely smooth. Any seam or fold in the dough will become a crack. The biscuit may break apart; some mold spore or insect could get in.

So, while I started with half a cup of water, I found that amount inadequate and added a little bit of additional water to make it work into a smoother dough. As you can see, it still wasn’t perfectly smooth but I successfully incorporated all the flour.

Once I had a terribly stiff dough, I rolled it out on a floured surface. There’s plenty of leeway here on how you can do it - some people would simply take pieces of the dough and pat them flat. Especially into the 19th century, this could be done with machinery, to make very consistent biscuits. That’s actually pretty important, since sailors and soldiers would want to be sure they were getting a fair ration.

Personally, since I have round biscuit cutters, that’s what I did. This is the style largely favored by the British, to be packed in barrels for Naval usage. Americans tended to make squares or rectangles for most efficient packing in tins. If these were being made professionally, the biscuits would then be impressed with a seal, usually indicating the company which manufactured the biscuits.

The next, and more important, part is to poke holes in the biscuits. These are not for show: they are meant to release steam when the biscuits are baked. If there are no holes, steam may accumulate in pockets, resulting in bubbles. While this might yield a moderately more pleasant hardtack - one that can be more easily broken apart - it also makes it less durable and more prone to spoilage. The holes need to be poked all the way through, which isn’t quite how most such baking is done, but there is no elegance to hardtack.

Next is baking. To be honest, hardtack is not baked. It is sterilized and dried. The simplest method is to bake the biscuits in a low oven for many hours - four is typical, but sometimes the hardtack is baked several times, or overnight. It should be baked just hot enough to assure anything in the flour is killed, and for long enough to remove almost all moisture from the biscuits.

I have opted for a compromise, in large part because I already had my dehydrator out. I baked the biscuits at 250°F for two hours, then transferred them to the dehydrator, where they are currently drying for.... well, until I decide to shut it off. Probably when I go to bed. Sadly, my dehydrator tops out at 160°F, which is 40°F too cool for proper sterilization. If it went up to 200°F, I could put the biscuits directly in there without needing the oven at all, but such was not to be.

So far, it smells surprisingly pleasant, and the one piece I have tasted confirms: it’s terribly bland, of course, lacking even the sourness of yeast. It’s also - as one could predict - quite hard, requiring prolonged dipping in tea to make it soft enough to bite. In short, the flavor is inoffensive while the texture is weaponizable.

I made this stuff knowing what it would be. I started out with the complete expectation that it would be akin to eating a roofing tile. Why do I do this?

Curiosity, I suppose. Now, sometimes I try to improve these historical recipes - I recognize the limitations under which they were made, and try to make them pleasant by adding spices and seasonings which were not available, applying techniques which would have been impractical, and adding fats and sugars which were uneconomical.

Not this recipe. You cannot improve hardtack without compromising its purpose. But I’d seen so many references to it, I knew I wanted to make it for myself, just to experience it.

I’m not going to share the stuff with my friends, though. Not anyone I want to keep as a friend, at any rate.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly submission: Brainrot and the M6

I know, I know, the prompt is "your MC/their LI's dynamic", but I just play as myself and I keep my blog character neutral so @vesuviaweekly platonic selfships, here we go -

With Julian: this guy is my adopted older brother. We get to unleash our inner theatre kids and make excessively dark jokes about our trauma together. The drawback is that neither of us has a speck of self preservation -.-

With Asra: when I tell you that the vibes just boil down to "warm, fluffy, and creatively unhinged" XD I would make us homemade hot chocolate so they could add peanut butter to it. He would show up at 2 AM to help me dye my hair

With Nadia: we'd have difficulty connecting at first, not gonna lie. until we find something interesting to analyze, like canal patterns or the courtier's psychological patterns. now we have tea parties and build profiles together

With Muriel: shared physical trauma aside, I have a mighty need to bake and cook large quantities of food and then fill someone's plate multiple times. I'm about to visit this guy weekly, right after bread baking day, with soup

With Portia: she's a bookworm. I'm a bookworm. we're going to swap each other's favorite novels and have heated character and plot discussions while we try to trick each other into sharing baking secrets/tips and tricks

With Lucio: look, I know he's done some awful stuff, but that guy could use a hug. I'm giving him a hug. and then I'm going to task him with finding good places to party because he has a much bigger social battery than I do

#vesuvia weekly #MC/LI dynamics #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter Two] Room to Breathe [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: I want to thank everyone for the lovely support and kind words going into the first chapter. I appreciate it so much.

Warning(s): dread, female reader, arranged marriage trope, Bi-Han being Bi-Han, breakdown, overwhelmed reader, tears.

Taglist: @genesiswrld @cherryblossomly @dilf-destroyer-04 @louis2gobrrn @umbransister

No Minors Allowed!!

The sweet and earthy aroma of dumplings and oven-baked flatbread reminds you that breakfast is near. For the first time, you are dreading it. 

Though it is a surprise to you, when you wander into the dining room, that Bi-Han is not among your immediate family. He must have chosen to eat alone. This you take comfort in, however, your parents and their gauging stares, do not make the dread stirring inside you disappear. 

You sit on the opposite side of the table in front of your mother and before long, the servants bring out a small spread of breakfast foods; congee, eggs, dumplings, and a variety of flat breads. You awkwardly fill your plate and begin to eat, grimacing as a stab of pain from your busted lip suddenly overtakes you.

The minor injuries that you sustained from the previous day's spar look much worse today. A bruise is slowly developing across your cheek and chest, and the split in your lip looks raw; an eyesore that your mother points out.  

“You do not look well, daughter,” she mentions. 

“It looks worse than it feels,” you assure her.

It is the high price of making your clan look good, nothing more.

Eating in silence, you witness a strange look your mother gives your father. You raise a brow.

“Is there something wrong?” 

Your father hums. He takes a moment to drink his tea before he answers, clearing his throat. 

“Due to unpredicted circumstances, I can not show Bi-Han to the training court today. It was his wish to watch our fighters train.”

That is unfortunate, you reckon. You sigh. So he is sold on this merger after all. 

“It will do you some good to bond with your husband-to-be,” your mother states, cutting in. “Show him the compound.” 

Is she serious? You give your father a curious look, but he merely nods, agreeing with her. As much as you want to decline, you know that it is unwise. 

“I will take him.”

Your mother grins proudly.

“I am pleased to hear that. Bi-Han took an interest in you.”

Did he? You glance at your father.

“What did he say?”

“He was irked that I did not tell him prior about your capability with magic, but overall, he was curious about you.”

Even so, you are not sure what to make of this. What it means in the grander scheme of things is that you are not as insignificant as he had thought. Still, your future with Bi-Han is hazy. What will he expect of you now? You are not sure you want to know. 

“Where is he?” You ask with a sigh. 

“The servants prepared him a room in the eastern wing of the house. He should be there, having breakfast,” your mother answers. 

Then there is no need to rush him. You take your time to eat, and then when you are done, you sigh in apprehension. 

Might as well get this over with. 

Excusing yourself from the table, you wait for permission, then you stand and walk toward the front door. The Eastern wing is easier to get to via the inner courtyard, so you leave the main house and walk to the entrance.

Normally, the Eastern wing is where the fighters reside; the Western wing houses the servants and their families. So it is no surprise to you when you approach the far end of the wing that several Lin Kuei assassins are on guard. You wander past them with no problem, but you can feel their eyes burning holes into you. 

Approaching the door to Bi-Han’s room, you knock softly. A moment later, he permits you to enter, and you do so hesitantly. 

The said Grandmaster is seated at a low table in the center of the room. His breakfast has been eaten, leaving nothing but a steaming kettle of tea in front of him. However, the thing that draws your attention is that Bi-Han is without his mask. His angular face and sharp features, despite his obvious scowl, are attractive qualities. 

“Is there something you want?”

His tone makes you frown. You avert your eyes. 

“My father was meant to escort you to the training court, but unforeseen preparations have delayed him. He asked that I do it instead.” 

Bi-Han hums. He takes a drink from his cup and then stands, brushing off his loose-fitting robe.

“Let us go.”

Without a word, you leave the room and lead him from the Eastern wing to the inner courtyard on the Southwestern side of the compound. The court is on the far end of the wing in a square-shaped field. 

Standing off to the side near the inner wall, you wait in silence next to Bi-Han as he spectates. The fighters are in sync, practicing kicks and punches as a teacher orders them. Your master is off to the side, watching in satisfaction as her style is passed on. 

You can not fathom her pride, though perhaps one day you will know what it feels like if you have students of your own. 

That is not a guaranteed possibility anymore. 

Not after you marry Bi-Han. 

You turn your eyes to him and take in his curious expression as he watches. When he catches you unexpectedly, his brows knit. You sigh. 

“It is nearly time for them to spar.”

This is awkward. You do not know how you are meant to bond with a man so high-handed and reserved. What do you even talk about? Fighting? Your interests? You scoff. Of course not. 

“It is no concern of mine your inner protests,” Bi-Han states. “However, they are irksome.”

You tighten your jaw. This man is exhausting. 

“It was not my intention to involve you in them.” 

“Speak your mind,” he orders. 

For someone not concerned, he is rather curious. You can not help your irritation.

“I'm sure there are far better clans to merge with.”

“But none so willing,” Bi-Han states without a moment of hesitation. 

He is right about that. You can not be mad about something true. Though, you do not have to agree with it.

“I don't share my parent's sentiments.”

Bi-Han turns his eyes to you and then averts them. Whatever he has on his mind, he does not share. After a moment, he crosses his arms and hums. 

“It is a shame to waste potential like your masters. She would benefit the Lin Kuei.” 

You hum, feeling less annoyed. Looking across the field at your master, you frown. 

“Time has a way of weakening us all. Passing our teachings onto others is what keeps our principles alive. She is at peace knowing that her martial arts will live on.” 

“You learned from her, did you not?”

You nod. 

“How to fight, yes. When I was a child. She saw potential in me that I did not…and she was right.” 

“Your clan does not seem to know magic, yet you wield it. Did her teachings help you to utilize your chi?”

You recall her telling you about this. Humans can learn magic, but it takes concentration and special training; the likes that she is not capable of. 

Is it really that impressive to Bi-Han? You feel almost elated by this.

Reaching down to your side, you grab the amulet and allow him to take a closer look at it. 

“My magic comes from this. There is a tale that derived from my clan about a sorceress from Outworld, it is the reason we know of it. The tale goes that she put her magic essence into the amulet and came here to aid a warrior, one she foresaw would rise to be a great champion.” 

“And you are this prophesied one?” Bi-Han asks with a skeptical look. 

You snort. No, you do not think you are. 

“I'm no great champion, but I was able to utilize its magic better than anyone before me, so until someone comes along who better uses it, I will remain the owner of the Amulet of Damashi.” 

“I have not heard of this Damashi,” Bi-Han states with a raised brow. “How does it work?”

You honestly have no idea, and even if you did, there are some secrets better left unsaid. Opting to remind your soon-to-be husband about this, the sound of someone addressing you by name halts you. 

Your father offers you a pleased look. 

“I thought you were delayed, Father.” 

He hums. 

“I have done all I can for today, so I am here to relieve you.”

It was not as bad as you had expected, though it could have been better. You smile. 

“Then I will join the others.”

“Before you do, there is an important matter your mother needs to speak with you about. She is in the dining room,” your father tells you. 

What is the important matter? You are curious. Turning your eyes to Bi-Han you offer him a polite smile. 

“Please excuse me. We will continue this conversation later.”

Bi-Han agrees with a brief nod.

Hastily, you saunter back across the courtyard to the main house, forcing the awkward events of the day to the back of your mind. There are much more important matters at hand. 

As said, your mother awaits your company. 

“Sit for a moment,” she orders while motioning in front of her. 

As you eagerly do so, she sets a scroll out on the table and unfolds it. You raise a curious brow. 

“This is your marital contract,” she discloses. “It was written and signed by your father and the former Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei many years ago.”

You were not aware that there was a contract made. It makes sense though. Written, it is certified, not merely a verbal agreement.

“What does it entail?” You ask curiously.

“That our two families are to become one. A list of stipulations was written, but that does not concern you,” she answers. “What does, is the upcoming ceremony, which will take place tomorrow afternoon.”

Tomorrow. Is she serious? That is too sudden.

“That…doesn't follow tradition,” you state. 

Your mother frowns. 

“Not entirely no, but times have changed. And at least some of the etiquettes have been fulfilled. We received the Betrothal Letter many years ago. The former Grandmaster came to us with the proposal and yesterday your father set the date with Bi-Han over tea.”

So he knew. He agreed for the ceremony to be so soon. You honestly feel a bit overwhelmed. It's like the walls are closing in on you bit by bit. 

“I am not ready for this,” you admit.

What happened to a fair warning? 

“Leave the preparations to me. While it is last minute, I have it under control,” your mother states. 

She almost sounds eager, but preparations are not what concerns you. 

“I…I need a moment to think.”

Your mother sighs. 

“This ceremony is taking place nonetheless, so have your moment, but as of tomorrow, you will need to put aside your issue for the sake of the clan.” 

You tighten your jaw. This sake of the clan nonsense is getting on your last nerve. All it boils down to is the comfort of your parents as they sign over their future and yours. 

Standing, you storm out of the room and to the balcony overlooking the garden. As soon as you are alone, your control crumbles.

“Perhaps you should marry him if you are so damn desperate. Does what I feel not matter? Do I not matter?”

Angry tears sting your eyes, turning the world into a saturated blur. 

You growl in frustration. Despite wanting to take your frustrations out on something, you force yourself to calm down, sitting on your knees in the doorway.

I can't do this to myself, not now. I have to be strong. 

With an uneasy sigh, you wipe the tears from your face.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you tell yourself. 

It's a lie. 

The truth is you are tired and angry of being made to feel unimportant despite trying your best to take control of your life. 

Tomorrow you might feel better - you doubt it - but as of tonight, you just need to be alone.

#mortal kombat fandom #bi han x reader #female reader insert #mortal kombat fanfiction #arranged marriage au #pre-mortal kombat 1 #bi han mk1 #mortal kombat 1 fanfiction

[strvlveera]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

pairing: royalty!oikawa x afab!reader

genre: royal au, angst w/happy ending, fluff

w/c: 10.7k (help me)

warnings: swearing (lmk if there should be more !)

synopsis: sick and tired of the looming castle walls, tooru decides to adventure outwards. somewhere he wasn't allowed to go. dressed as a young 'peasant' boy tooru comes across the delicious smell of fresh baked bread. considering he was starving he marched right in demanding a loaf of bread, forgetting he wasn't in normal attire. you, the daughter of the baker, found him a headache but also amusing. I mean what source of entertainment can you get when you're so poor?

"I am your prince!"

"...then why are you dressed like that?"

(lowercase intended)

slightly based on 'ceilings' by lizzy mcalpine

a/n: this isn't proofread so there may be careless mistakes! the synopsis doesn't comprehend how much angst there will be... I made this fic as an excuse to not sleep...got this idea at 2 am so T_T honestly since hq is coming back(?) soon I just want my home boy back...

I also apologise for not getting this done sooner i don't know why it took me so long.. anyways enjoy!

btw can you spot a manwha reference too?

NOT PROOF READ!

taglist: @tooruchiiscribs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @sillykawa @rukia-uchiha-98 @softcd @misfit-megumi @suzizanne

"sit here and reminisce about your actions. I have a lot of things to do today," the king calmly demanded tooru as he whined and grumbled, dragging him by the arm to his room.

"I just wanted to play, you're always so busy and nee-san is always holding tea parties with her friends!" tooru exclaimed, crossing arms.

"you'll understand in the future. when you’re king, you'll always be busy."

"what if I don't want to be king? I want to be a knight! I want to be free and keep my friends safe, as well as you and nee-san," tooru proudly said to his father, as if convincing him that taking the throne was what he wasn't destined for.

the king mockingly laughed, not taking tooru's words seriously.

"keep an eye on him, don't let him leave this room until I come back," stated the king to the guard outside who gave a quick nod.

"of course, your highness."

"i'll be off then tooru, behave."

with the creak of the closing door tooru sprawled his arms across the bed as he flumped down, a sour look on his face staring into the ceiling.

"behave tooru! oh, look at me being too busy being a king that I don't even have time for my son!" mocks tooru, reminiscing about his father's stern words rather than his own actions.

i mean, it wasn't his fault that he 'accidentally' hit his great-grandfather's statue. it wasn’t as if he was trying to catch anyone's attention. it wasn't his fault he was alone most of the day, except when the royal tutor came. it wasn’t his fault that the dreams of becoming a knight got disregarded as soon as he even said the word 'knight', as if it wasn’t an option.

tooru had to practically beg his father for swordsmanship lessons, even though he was so young, desperately clinging to his dream of becoming a knight. why? to be free from his fate, his destiny and yet his father still said no.

"king this, king that, why not knight this, knight that?" questioned tooru, still huffing from his father's words.

he doesn't even want to be king anyway. the responsibility of it seemed trapping as if he'd be a bird in a cage with everyone watching his every move.

silently staring at the ceiling with a blank face, tooru decides on an escape plan. except this time he'll escape to the city. the place where his father told him to never go.

"you'll catch a deadly disease! how will you train to be a knight?"

the memory passed through his mind.

"how am I supposed to be a knight anyway whenever I'm always confined in this boring palace?" tooru thought out loud.

knights are daring and dashing and most importantly loved by all. if tooru wanted to be a knight, he'd have to be a little adventurous and brave.

"if mother was here she'd let me go," says tooru, quietly reassuring himself that his decision was beneficial and ethical.

finding old clothes from the back of his wardrobe, he tried his best to make himself an unroyal attire. with a bit of tearing in certain parts tooru proudly stood in front of his mirror with his disguise, ready for operation: escape to town.

"soo original tooru.."

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

tooru's ears perked up to the sound of the bustling streets of the city, his eyes lighting up with excitement as crowds of people strolled up and down the street. some frantically buying groceries from the local market, some sitting outside having a beverage of choice whilst talking with the person opposite, laughing at each other's comments.

this is way more fun than the palace thought tooru, as he gazed around.

alas, with the growl of his stomach, tooru then realised how he barely had any food that day as he was having too much fun causing chaos at the palace.

"i should've brought money for food, why am i so dumb?!," tooru whines, whilst ruffling his hair out of frustration.

the feeling of his empty stomach made tooru more impatient until he smelt a whiff of something delicious. following the scent like a delirious zombie, tooru came to a halt when he came across a bakery. as he opened the door a ding came from a bell and his eyes landed upon a girl, which he assumed to be his age, putting some sort of pastry in an oven until she realised the presence of tooru and quickly wiped her floury hands, rushing towards him.

"hello, sir, welcome to shokupan. unfortunately, you're visiting during our closing hours, would you like to leave in an order for tomorrow?" she asks with a click of a pen, smiling at tooru as he processes what she just asked.

"i need that loaf of bread," demanded tooru pointing to the freshly baked milk bread on the counter, ignoring the girl’s question.

following tooru's finger, the girl realised what he was asking for and nervously chuckled.

"o-oh! i'm sorry but that isn't to be bought by anyone except the man that ordered it earlier. may i ask again if you want to order anything for tomorrow?" she asks again.

by now tooru's patience was wearing thin. with an awful combination of an empty stomach and tired legs, he started to grow irritated but so were you. yes, you. the baker's daughter.

with your father off for deliveries, you had to look after the bakery; taking orders everyday, making the dough and baking most of the bread yourself. with a job like this, it can get very tiring easily. especially with ignorant customers but that was rare. until today, where you had the 'fortunate' opportunity to stumble across a hungry and grumpy tooru.

"i don't want or need anything for tomorrow. what i need is that bread - so would you just give it to me?" demanded tooru once again.

you sighed, putting a hand to your forehead being physically and mentally exhausted from the hard work and now him.

"as i've said before, sir, i can't just give you a loaf of bread. if you don't want to order anything i'll have to ask you to leave so that i can close up the bakery," and with that you began to head back to the kitchen.

"you don't understand, i need that bread now! i'm dying of hunger, don't you pity me?" pleaded tooru with furrowed eyebrows, desperate for a bite of that delicious looking bread.

"look, there are many people who wander in and out of the bakery looking for pastries but unfortunately i can't give you it without permission from my boss. it's just how business runs around here," you shrugged, used to the situation.

normally, you'd give him a loaf of free bread, however word got out that you gave out free bread to those who couldn't afford it and an upburst happened causing the bakery to be shut down for a whole week. your father was certainly not happy about what happened but was glad that you were charitable and sympathetic to the people.

of course tooru had no idea this happened, he never read the newspapers anyway as they were too boring to him. he'd rather run around the palace causing chaos.

with tooru in desperate need of food he decided to play his trump card.

he cleared his throat and proudly stated, "although i may not look like it, i am actually prince tooru of the oikawa family, ruler of this city and province. as of now i may not look like the part, because i am on a very special mission, but i can reassure you that this is your dear prince."

with a small hair flip and a smug smile tooru awaited an apology but instead found you laughing hysterically like a hyena.

offended, tooru immediately questions, "w-what's wrong? you should be cowering before me and asking for my forgiveness, why are you laughing like a maniac?"

obviously you couldn't reply, still holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath from laughing too much.

"b-because…." you began but immediately started laughing again.

tooru scoffed, flabbergasted at your behaviour and disrespect to him as a royal. you were just a commoner and he was royalty, how dare you mock him like this?

"i don't know why you think this is hilarious but i am not lying. i am your prince!" proclaimed tooru, tired of your actions.

calming yourself down with a shaky breath out, you look at (a very annoyed) tooru up and down.

"if you really are the prince, which is very unlikely considering that this is the west side of the city, then why are you dressed like that?" you questioned, suspicious of his manner and clothes.

confused, tooru stops glaring at you and begins to analyse his outfit and quickly realises what you meant.

"oh…."

you chuckle in disbelief and maybe even pity, thinking he's gone mad already as a teenager.

"yeah, oh."

embarrassingly, tooru took off the smug look off his face and cleared his throat.

"you're not doing a very good job at convincing me prince tooru," you mocked, cheekily smiling at him.

"maybe i need more time to enhance my skills," tooru replies with an eye roll.

what a pity you thought, he was really entertaining. you wondered if he did acting as a job.

“well, i guess this is the part where i go,” tooru awkwardly began as he slowly turned to walk out the door, mostly out of embarrassment and the need to get home. his father would be furious if he found him dressed like this.

"wait just a second," you frantically said, trying to catch up with him, after grabbing something from the counter.

he anxiously turns, not wanting to be humiliated even more. however, to his delight you handed him a paper bag filled with a loaf of milk bread. you could immediately see how his demeanour changed and how his eyes lit up, almost as if there were stars in them.

"c-can i really have this?" asked tooru, with saliva already threatening to drip from his mouth.

"of course, i'm not that cruel. plus, i saw you eyeing up the milk bread from earlier. you looked like you really couldn't live without it. i’ll just make another batch for the old man," you replied with a small smile, mentally reminding yourself to not tell your father about this. who knows what would happen.

relief spread across tooru's face.

"thank you…?"

"ah - i'm y/n."

"thank you y/n," tooru replies with a wide smile, grateful for the milk bread.

with a bright smile, you waved goodbye to tooru as the bell of the door rang once again, indicating he was leaving to your dismay.

"come back soon!" you called out to tooru, secretly wishing to see him again tomorrow.

happily chewing on the milk bread, tooru smiled to himself filled with content, glad of the encounter and his courage to adventure off.

his father certainly wouldn't be pleased if he found out.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the following day and you couldn't help but secretly wait for a certain someone to come through the door. most of your customers were regulars so it was usually the same people saying the same things that you already knew about even when you'd make conversation asking,"anything new happen?" and with them replying with,"it's always the same old y/n."

it was pretty boring in the west end, except for all the crime that's been lurking around. the ring of the bell came and you turned around, only to be met by the same boy from yesterday. you were ecstatic to see the brown haired boy again. swiftly walking over to him you greet him with another milk bread you made just for him.

"well if it isn't the prince tooru, gracing me with his presence again," you sarcastically say, with a little courtesy.

it wasn't until you got a proper look at him that you realised how he was panting, trying to catch his breath and the plum bruise on his face.

tooru saw how fast your reaction to the bruise was, as your eyes started to fill with worry and concern. with furrowed eyebrows you hesitantly touched his face and he backed away.

"i'm so sorry tooru I didn't mean to-"

"no-no it's fine y/n don't worry, I don't know why I backed up in the first place," he reassuringly said.

although, in reality he backed away because he got nervous when you touched him. it felt comforting, which was a foreign emotion to tooru ever since his mother passed away.

"are you okay? how'd you get the bruise? did something happen?" you asked, bombarding him with questions, wondering how he ended up like this.

tooru found it really heart-warming how you only knew him for less than twenty-four hours and yet you showed so much concern for him. most of the maids in the palace only cared about his safety so that they wouldn't get fired by the king. to have someone genuinely worry about him made him feel as if he was valued as a human being, instead of "the king's son" or "the heir to the throne".

he actually got the bruise by accidently bumping into a gang that didn't look very pleased with him. he ran as fast as he could, screaming his lungs out.

"not very knightly of you tooru," he thought.

he made sure to not tell you about this.

he softly smiled at you as he said, "nothing, don't worry about it,"

not wanting to pry anymore, you let it go although you were still sceptical about the ordeal.

"well, if you say so. how about we enjoy the milk bread i prepared for you? it's a slow day today so we can sit down and have a chat outside," you insisted, leading tooru outside.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

throughout the next few months you both continued to meet each other. with tooru sneaking out the palace more often and you already having freshly baked milk bread just for him. your father would get suspicious, catching you smiling to yourself at random times of the day whenever he was at the bakery but brushed it off as he was glad to see you happy rather than tired from all the work he gave you.

with your father starting to help more at the bakery than doing deliveries, you decided to pick a new meetup spot with tooru so that you two could talk with as much freedom as possible. without your father glaring at tooru as he did with his first encounter with him.

you showed him your hidden gem, a place where you would run to when the world would overwhelm you. your safe haven. urging tooru to go in first, his eyes were blessed with a charming peaceful meadow, secluded from society which was a good thing, as its beauty was preserved for you to see and now tooru. surprisingly you haven't even shown your father this heaven but you willingly led tooru here.

there was something about this milk bread obsessed boy that made you feel as if you could trust him. you've had male friends before but they would always tease you that you were a one trick pony as you could only bake but barely cook to save your life.

“ugh! I keep burning the bacon….” you grumbled, looking over to the pile of burnt bacon on the counter.

"just stick to baking y/n, it's the only thing you're good at," matsukawa slyly said, with the classic smirk of his which resulted in a loud smack to his head. he deserved it.

they never took you seriously. until tooru came along and changed your perspective. yes, he would be very arrogant at some points but alas that was just how he was and without it he wouldn't be as charming. it also brought out a new side of you, where you would make snarky remarks to him which would end in the both of you hugging your stomachs from laughing or tooru pouting.

relaxing down on a light patch of grass, you began talking about the future, a common topic in your conversations to tooru's dismay but it ended up helping him release his bottled up problems.

"i feel bad," you began, in a soft tone.

"why? you've done nothing except give me happiness," he questioned, confused by your sudden statement.

flustered by the choice of words that he used, you averted your eyes. clearing your throat you continued,”i always complain about my life and talk about my problems and yet you never get the chance to talk sometimes, when we talk about the future or anything serious in general.”

realising how insensitive you sound, your eyes widen and turn to tooru to apologise.

“i didn’t mean that-i mean I did but not in that context. of course you don’t have to talk about touchy subjects in your life if you don’t want to,” you paused for a second, trying not to panic and calmly collect your thoughts.

“I guess what i'm trying to say is, you can talk to me. you can talk about anything, other than your love for the milk bread i give you,” that earned a chuckle from tooru.

You grin, pleased that you received a positive reaction from him.

“i know we’ve only been friends for quite a while and i whole-heartedly understand if you feel a bit uncomfortable with all of this. just know I’ll always be here tooru,” you concluded, slightly embarrassed by what you said.

"aww….y/n, you care so much about me huh?" teased tooru, although he secretly soaked up all your words.

you sulked, embarrassed at your actions and mostly how tooru reacted to what you said but also not very surprised by his antics. tooru was busy laughing at your demeanour.

"sorry y/n, i didn't want to ruin the moment by laughing but i am really touched I swear!" tooru explained.

"i poured my heart and soul into that and you're here making fun of me!" you grumbled, purposely exaggerating your words so that he'd apologise soon.

tooru's laugh rang in your ears and he quickly apologised for teasing you.

"don't worry y/n, i listened very carefully. you have no idea how much I appreciate you."

just as you were about to say "thank you", tooru continued.

"mostly because of the milk bread you bake for me but don't worry i also appreciate the company just not as much as the bread," he cheekily said, earning a smack in the back of his head from you.

"ouch! what was that for?" he whined.

"i’m not give you milk bread anymore," you replied with a stone face.

tooru gasped and started pleading for your mercy, trying to flatter you with compliments as you got up from the dented grass and started walking away from him.

"y/n you're an angel, you know that right?"

"yes tooru i know i am. now stop clinging onto my cardigan or else I'll feed you raw dough instead."

you only gave into his pleas when he started bowing down to you in the middle of the street when you were trying to ignore him.

"almighty y/n, i am a sinful man begging for your forgiveness. please give me a loaf of milk bread."

"tooru people are starting to look, please get up," you hurryingly pleaded.

he gave you one last glance and in return you gave him a dirty look, already fed up with his act.

"almighty y/n, please listen to my prayer-"

"fine, fine! i'll give you free milk bread again…"

"oh thank you! almighty-"

"i'm seriously going to punch you."

--- ⁠✧

the day ended with tooru beaming with happiness as he ate his milk bread, and you sat across from him once again with your hand resting against your chin gazing upon his figure. you never understood why your milk bread was so special to him but you were glad that you could make him happy in some sort of way.

"maybe I should start charging you, we might just go bankrupt from all the free bread we've given you," you teased, already knowing what he'd say.

"well it isn't my fault that they taste so good!" tooru whined.

you giggled and went back to staring at him, appreciating his beauty. the way his smooth skin glistened against the withering glows of the sun, the way his lips parted to take a bite of the bread, the way his brown eyes would melt into golden rays as the sunlight hit his face. how on earth could this boy in front of you be a commoner when his looks alone could help him get a job easily?

"you know you're really pretty tooru, even when you have a lot of crumbs on your face," you randomly said as you focused on specific parts of his face.

tooru almost choked on the milk bread, surprised at your sudden statement.

"of course i'm pretty. i am a prince after all," he nervously chuckled trying to cover up his flustered expression.

"are you still acting as if you're a prince?" you questioned, amused that he’s still keeping up the act.

with a smug face, tooru replied,"when the time comes and you see that i am a prince, you will be so shocked and i'd laugh right in your face."

you rolled your eyes as you thought,"yeah right. as if a prince would be sitting right in front me, stuffing his face with the milk bread that i baked. tooru is seriously unbelievable."

it wasn't until a year later that it became believable. specifically, on his eighteenth birthday.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

"be careful with those plates!"

"which colour would you like your highness? celeste or baby blue?"

"would you like chocolate or vanilla frosting on the cake, your highness?"

the palace was clearly bustling with noise and excitement. why? because it’s tooru’s special eighteenth birthday tomorrow.

tooru hadn't realised it until a while ago but his heart started to soften more and more at every encounter you two had.

maybe it was because of the countless amounts of milk bread you would prepare for him which made tooru question if you were making it with the intent of seeing him (probably not). sure, all the chefs and maids in the palace prepared the most luxurious food for him but it just felt the same with every meal but it was somehow different with you.

maybe it was because of the uplifting conversations you would have, where you both could voice your thoughts and opinions on a variety of subjects with no worries of being judged. tooru swore at himself, wondering what he'd gotten himself into and yet he still consciously ventured further, wanting to learn more about you, other than you being a baker's daughter. you didn't know his true identity and yet you were so thoughtful towards him.

although, it felt selfish as he couldn't truthfully tell you his identity, he continued to pursue a growing friendship whilst walking home with a guilty heart each time he saw you. he was addicted. now that he was turning eighteen, tooru couldn’t hide it any longer. he had to tell you, one way or another. before it was too late and before he’d have to go back to the life he had without you. a boring, uneventful life.

--- ⁠✧

“why didn't i sleep early last night?” you questioned yourself, yawning for what felt like the hundredth time.

honestly, you stayed up last night because you knew it was tooru's birthday tomorrow and you were crocheting a scarf for the first time, even though it was the middle of summer. you couldn’t just bring him to the meadow and eat ice cream and milk bread all day like all the other years you spent celebrating his birthday. no, it had to be something different, something that no one else could give him and something that you've never done before especially since he was now getting to the age of marriage.

you were in the middle of putting the classic milk bread that you’d make for tooru in the oven when you heard the ring of the doorbell as it opened. you didn’t recognise the person making his way towards you but he looked oddly familiar.

with another yawn you groggily said,”hello welcome to shokupan, what can i get for you?”

“uh- y/n?” he spoke, as if he was confused.

you lazily smiled and looked up to the man, “yup that’s me, what can i-,” it was only then that you realised that this stranger knew your name and only then you realised who exactly it was.

your tired eyes quickly shot open, as if you got electrocuted. it was tooru, but he was dressed so magnificently. a bright, shining suit adorned his figure; gold shoulder pads showing off his broad shoulders; perfectly combed hair that would usually be messy and unkempt.

"t-tooru?" you whispered, wondering if you were still dreaming. was this really your tooru?

he chuckled,"yes n/n, it's really me," whilst sarcastically posing for you. however, you couldn't respond. you were speechless.

"y/n? are you okay?" tooru asked, concerned but also amused at your unresponsive state.

as tooru's words went in one ear and out the other you got out of your tranced state and started firing questions at tooru, "why are you dressed like that? where'd you get the money? did you loan the money? tooru you can't use all your savings on a suit, what about food?"

tooru couldn't contain his laughter any longer and bursted out laughing.

"what's so funny about spending all your money on something you don't even need?!" you exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of tooru's actions.

as tooru's laugh died down, he gazed at you with a smug smile.

"i told you before that one day i'd show you that i'm a prince and that you'd never believe me. so here i am y/n, prince tooru of the oikawa family, inviting you to attend a ball tomorrow to celebrate my birthday," he gracefully bowed down whilst holding out an envelope towards you which you hesitantly took from him.

carefully, you observed the envelope, wondering if tooru was actually a prince or if he was just playing one of his silly games on you again. you knew your answer as soon as you flipt the envelope to shockingly fix your eyes on the royal seal, a four leaf clover crest. anybody could recognise as the city was adorned with the symbol. in disbelief, you lifted your head to tooru with wide eyes.

“you…” you started, trying to comprehend everything with your already jumbled mind.

“i’m?” tooru replied, anxious to see your reaction.

“you’re a prince,” you whispered, not believing your own words.

slowly, the cogs were starting to work in your brain, the pieces of the puzzle were connecting. why haven't you noticed? tooru always implied it even in your first encounter. there were many other reasons too on why he’d be a prince; he always had to leave early or he was late; the amount of times you’ve patched him up without you knowing that it was because of his swordsmanship lessons last year; the way he was able to read sophisticated words and write with very neat handwriting, which commoners couldn't do simply because they didn't have the money for the education; the way he never showed you where he lived or where he was from; the way he never talked about himself during your conversations. it all made sense and yet you were too dense to even realise it. you were angry and disappointed with yourself.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you questioned, wondering if he thought of you as a person who couldn't be trusted.

“well, i guess i just…” he paused and took a breath in.

“i was scared, y/n. maybe even terrified, that you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore or that you’d hate me, and i completely understand if you do now because i just basically lied to you throughout our whole friendship which is so stupid and idiotic of me and i’m so, so sorry y/n. i cherish you so much and i don't want to lose you, so please don't ever think that i never trusted you because i do, wholeheartedly.”

tooru finished and waited for you to talk or say anything, but you just stared at him in disbelief.

"y/n, please say something," tooru pleaded, his fist tightening against his chest as he grew more anxious.

"does your father know?" you asked.

"what? of course not he'd go crazy if he did-"

"oh my god tooru, you're unbelievable," you muttered, with your fingers pressing on your temple.

"what? y/n i just told you why i didn't want to reveal my identity, you know my father would go crazy if he found out i was sneaking away," tooru reasoned, trying to calm down the situation by reaching out for your hand but you slapped it away, still not comprehending the situation.

"yes tooru, and i understand that, if you weren't a prince. this completely changes everything, you know that right? what if someone saw us and reported it to your father? you'd be in great trouble and don't even get me started on how i'd probably be the talk of the city. a laughing stock. i mean, a commoner being friends with a prince? ha! how ridiculous," you rambled, looking away and staring down at your feet.

"y/n, look at me," tooru softly asked, gently lifting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. your breath hitched as he stared right at you, as if he could read your every thought.

"it doesn't matter if i'm a prince or if you're a commoner. even if my father finds out, I won't let any harm come to you. i'll do everything in my power to make sure you're safe."

"tooru-"

"i'm not done. just because you're a 'commoner' doesn't mean you aren’t worth anything less. you're y/n, my y/n and that's all that matters. i don't care about titles. fuck being a prince, it doesn't matter as long as i'm with you. as long as you're here."

you both became silent as tooru awaited a response and you were still processing what he just confessed to you. tooru sighed and let go of you, turning away and hiding his face from you, embarrassed at himself.

"tooru," you started, still finding the right words to say to him.

"if i have to be honest, i'm disappointed not only in you but for myself. it feels as if you just used me as a way to escape from your own life. i really, really enjoy your company tooru and you made my life so much more exciting and enjoyable, and even thinking about what we’d have in plan to do helped me get out of bed in the morning but now, i do not know what to think anymore. not only that, but the fact that you’ve hinted at it all this time and yet i was too dumb to even realise it. was this all a joke to you?" you questioned, your chest tightening at your own words, hoping he’d contradict with you.

“y/n…none of this was ever a joke and i can’t even truly express my gratitude to your very own existence with just simple minded words. from our first encounter to even now, the only person i’ve wanted to see was you. you’ve never once left my mind,” his eyes softened before his mouth came to a fine line, you could physically see his lips quiver as he awaited your response.

you finally let go of the breath you’ve unconsciously been holding and came face to face with the boy who made you feel an array of emotions that you couldn’t comprehend and simply gave him a gentle hug, with your head resting on his chest hearing his quickened heartbeat drumming in your ear.

with an awkward smile you looked up to him,”you really are scared huh?”

“god y/n, you have no idea how many times i was planning on telling you, but i would just end up getting lost in the moment and keep putting it off, until now, i really thought i screwed things up,” tooru frantically explained, letting out a sigh of relief.

although, to his horror you pierced his ears, saying, "you kind of did."

the atmosphere shifted to a chilling silence, with tooru’s bug eyed expression processing the words that you just announced and you fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“what?” tooru meekly asked, needing affirmation.

”look tooru, even if we remain as friends and keep meeting up, we’ll never go back to normal. you have to understand that. even if titles don't matter to you, they matter to everyone else. in their eyes, i’ll always be a ‘lowly’ commoner and you will always be a prince, hell maybe even king!”

“don’t you dare say that about me, i will never be king nor will i ever want to,” tooru defended, slightly raising his voice over the sensitive subject but that didn’t stop you from continuing.

“come to terms with reality tooru, this isn’t some fairy tale where i randomly get gifted a fairy godmother for christ sake. sure, it was okay when you were younger but now, really? you’re turning eighteen tomorrow, you can’t just keep skipping out on your duties as a prince,” you continued, pleading with him to see your point of view.

tooru scoffed, ”what do you know about being a prince? you’d never understand how shit i felt every time i get told off for every little mistake i made and how i know everyone secretly wished my mother survived instead of me.”

you stood still with a withering expression, your mouth parted and heart clenched with tears pricking your eyes. he never talked about this before.

“tooru, i didn’t know-”

“i was suffocating in there y/n, and you were the only one that made me feel like i wasn’t drowning with responsibilities and yet now i’m getting reminded of it again by the only person i could rely on,” he painfully expressed, solemnly looking at you, catching your watered eyes.

alas you stood your ground,

“well, as the person that you can rely on, i'm only telling you this for your own sake tooru, and yes i’m not a prince and i’m sure as hell not educated enough to understand what a prince does. however, i do know that you’ll have to get married soon now that you’re turning eighteen and i can’t keep distracting you tooru and you can’t keep running away. you’re going to have many people wanting to speak with you and important meetings to attend and you won’t have time to see me. we both know that,” your heart breaks at your own words.

tooru stood still with a pained expression. he couldn't argue with you, knowing that everything you said was true.

“wake up tooru. we aren’t fifteen anymore.”

silently, tooru sets down a wrapped box on an empty table and walks to the door without a word. all you could do was watch his doleful figure. before he stepped out into the street he stared at you without his warm brown eyes with a disappointed smile and said, ”you’re still invited you know? i already booked a carriage for you, so please come.”

The ring of the doorbell came at last, indicating his presence was gone and with that you burst out in tears with you crouching down against the counter recalling the argument between you two. were you too harsh? did you even consider tooru’s side? were you being insensitive? all these questions left your mind swirling like a spinning wheel to the point where you just laid lifeless with stinging eyes from all the salty tears.

finally finding the strength to get up, you dust yourself off the floor and spotted the clean and elegant box tooru left for you. carefully, you raised the lid upwards and you gasped surprised. sitting in the box before you was the most luxurious dress you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. sophisticated patterns adorned the purple gown with numerous delicate jewels stitched on, where if one was sold you’d no longer be a baker but instead living more comfortably.

“i’ve never seen a gown this shade before,” you astonishingly admitted, surveying the gown in your hand gently touching the rich fabric. unbeknownst to you the shade was specifically tyrian purple, a shade only the royal family wore.

peering inside you see a little rectangle note. you delicately placed the gown down on the table and opened the note.

“you’re royalty too.”

slightly grinning at the sentence you let out a light hearted sigh, letting it convince your tender heart.

“i guess i’ll be going to a ball tomorrow.”

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the day that everyone anticipated for and yet tooru wasn’t excited at all. he lost sight of all hope as of yesterday, after the argument he had with you. even his best friend iwaizumi hajime tried comforting him, in his own unique way.

“oi, it’s your own birthday try to lighten up. you look like a rotting zombie,” he pointed out.

tooru gave iwaizumi a sour look at him and miserably said, ”she isn't coming so what’s the point?”

“she? oh, you mean y/n?” iwaizumi asked, tooru gave a small nod.

“she’ll have to come, you prepared a gown and a carriage for her. how could she refuse? won’t most girls like that?”

“maybe the fact that i screwed everything over plays a major part,” tooru explained.

iwaizumi gave a puzzled look to tooru, clearly not informed of the events that happened yesterday morning. with a heavy sigh, tooru began to catch up with iwa on the unfortunate argument that occurred.

“oh i see now.”

“yeah, you’d think she’d still come?”

“after what you did? no way. i reckon it’ll take a miracle for her to attend,” iwaizumi blatantly replied, making tooru hopeless as he let out another heavy sigh with a blank stare at the floor.

“but, you’ll never know tooru. miracles can happen,” with that iwaizumi stood up from the cold cobblestone step and gave tooru a pat in the back, his steps echoing behind tooru as he continued to remain alone with his thoughts.

don’t lose hope, he thought.

it was definitely easier said than done.

--- ⁠✧

thankfully, you weren’t alone while you were getting dolled up. your trusted friend yachi was here to help. you were fortunate enough for her to stumble upon your bakery as a middle class girl visiting the city and you both instantly connected, although you both barely saw each other as she lived outside the city but you both kept in contact with letters. as of now you both were struggling on putting on the corset.

“y/n you have to breathe in just a little bit more so i can tighten the corset fully!” yachi exclaimed, while tugging the strings to the best of her ability.

“i know yachi i’m trying my hardest!” you cried out, in pain from holding your breath in for so long.

“and…done!” yachi cheered, clapping her hands.

“how can girls wear these things everyday? i’m about to pass out,” you said, exhausted already trying to reach for a chair.

“wait y/n we aren’t done yet, you have to put the petticoat on and then the actual gown,” yachi explained, encouraging you to keep standing.

with a groan you got up and yachi assembled the gown with a blink of an eye.

“oh my god y/n you look so pretty!” yachi praised, admiring you with stars in her eyes.

you bashfully smiled at her and asked,”you really think so?”

“you’ve always been pretty y/n, oh i’ve got something for you,” she said, going into her purse to fetch an object of some sort.

“what is it?” you aksed, curious of what she prepared.

yachi hid the object with both her hands behind her back sneakily and began by saying,”well, in the letter you said that you had been given a purple gown…”

“so..?” you questioned, urging her to continue.

“so i thought i’d glamour you even more,” she explained before showing you a white sapphire necklace with a wide smile. you stared at it, mesmerised by the sheer shine it gave.

“what do you think?” yachi asked, lifting up the necklace.

“i-it’s gorgeous yachi. are you sure i’m allowed to wear it? where did you get it in the first place?” you said in disbelief while yachi laughed at you with your gaze transfixed on the necklace.

“of course you can wear it, that’s the whole reason why i brought it anyway and don’t worry about where i got it from, just be excited to wear it,” she said with a mischievous giggle that worried you, and before you could even reject her offer she was already putting it on you.

thinking you were finished you went to sit down but to your dismay yachi was in front of you holding hair pins and a comb with an ecstatic expression.

“we’re only getting started y/n!”

you nervously gulped, getting ready for the amount of pain you were about to go through.

--- ⁠✧

chatter filled the ballroom as it continued to fill up with hundreds of guests from around the nation. tooru was trying his best to answer all the questions from all of the women surrounding him in a polite manner. although, they all were obviously there for two main reasons: status and power, as they wave their fans at him with a leering expression. however, he was solely looking for a certain someone to walk through the grand doors and for a certain someone to apologise to.

“do you have someone already in mind prince tooru?” one of the ladies asked which made the rest of them quiet, anticipating tooru’s answer.

he knew he couldn’t say yes without upsetting them all and causing a scene so he chuckled and declared, ”no, i don’t. not yet,” which caused them to erupt in ‘oohs’ and giggles, clearly glad with tooru’s response and the chance they all had to court him. although he knew in his mind that he definitely had someone he wanted to court himself.

unfortunately, that certain someone was running late. the carriage was already patiently waiting outside the bakery when you were trying to find the invitation tooru gave you yesterday but you somehow lost it. if it wasn’t for yachi’s help you probably wouldn’t have made it out the front door.

“have fun y/n! don’t forget to say yes when the prince asks for your hand in marriage!” yachi shouted to you in a cheery tone.

“oh be quiet yachi,” you jokingly said, your face heating up at her joke, embarrassed.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, i just couldn’t seem to find the invitation,” you explained to the coachman who gave you a small nod whilst helping you into the carriage.

you’ve never been in a carriage before but you’ve seen many travel back and forth from the palace at the city centre. you’ve always been in awe of them and dreamt of being in one someday and here you are now, admiring it in all its beauty. in contrast to the outside it was much smaller than you’d imagine but the seats were very comfortable for your already sore feet as they weren’t used to high-heeled shoes you were wearing.

i wonder what tooru would think.

--- ⁠✧

it was getting further into the night and there was still no sight of you. tooru looked over to iwaizumi who was trying to communicate to tooru.

“is she here yet?” mouthed iwaizumi, as he stared at tooru still being bombarded with women.

tooru gave him a frown and shook his head. were you ever going to show up?

it was time for the first dance as the string orchestra began playing a waltz for the guests and tooru to dance to. he immediately had a line of ladies encouraging him to dance with them until one troublesome women decided to ‘accidentally’ trip into tooru’s arm into a dramatic pose that wasn’t impressive, but before he could ask if she was alright the orchestra suddenly stopped playing at the sound of the grand doors abruptly opening and everyone’s attention was averted.

“y/n, from the l/n family!” declared the attendee.

as you slowly emerged and came into everyone’s view. they all gasped and started murmuring to each other at the site of the colour of your gown.

“does this girl not have any idea what crime she’s committing?”

“she’s clearly mocking the royal family, how disrespectful!”

“who does she think she is?”

“i’ve never seen her before.”

fortunately, you couldn’t hear them as you were trying your best not to trip as you descended down the flight of steps, holding onto the railing for dear life, but you could feel all the judgemental stares they were giving you in the corner of your eye.

tooru’s heart began pounding in his chest as he saw your descending figure. muttering a quick,”i’m sorry,” to the woman he caught and helped her onto her feet and swiftly began to approach you with haste. he couldn’t let this chance slip from his fingers. not when he has a million things on his mind to say to you.

finally, you stepped down onto the polished marble floor and let out a sigh of relief and glanced up to find a pair of familiar brown eyes with a million hues, belonging to the man of the night, growing larger until they were right in front of you. not once did your eyes break contact with his.

“you made it,” he gawked, astonished at your arivial.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you beamed at him, forgetting how much you’ve wanted to see him again.

he bowed down. “would you grant me the greatest honour of joining me for my first dance of the night? only if you can handle it,” he teases, thrilled to be in the presence of you.

“you may, only if you can handle having your toes stepped on,” you tease back whilst curtseying, causing the both of you to erupt in laughter.

as tooru led you to the dance floor, all eyes were on you both as the orchestra began to play a waltz again. realising how nervous you must be, tooru gently placed his hand on your waist and held your hard reassuringly.

“just focus on me y/n. let me lead you.” you nodded, trusting in tooru to guide your inexperienced self.

tooru was true to his word as you both glided gracefully around the dance floor. he led you effortlessly, not even flinching when you would accidentally step on his foot for a brief moment. he just kept smiling at you with his gaze transfixed on your face. you couldn’t help but feel bashful.

“you look breathtaking,” tooru began, causing your face to heat up from his compliment.

“oh stop it tooru, you don’t have to say things you don’t mean,” you said, smiling down, still grateful for the compliment.

“it’s true y/n,” tooru affirmed, looking at you with a caring gaze that sent your stomach into a whirlwind.

“well, thank you. you don’t look bad yourself,” you admitted, wanting to compliment him too.

“of course, i am a prince after all,” he jokingly said, making you chuckle.

“did you plan this? us wearing matching colours,” you asked, realising the way he had the exact same shade of purple on his suit as your gown.

“and what if i did? it’s all part of my master plan,” he replied.

“your master plan of what?” you wondered, curious on what he was planning.

“you’ll see~” he retorted, causing you to sarcastically roll your eyes.

you both continued to dance in a comfortable silence until tooru abruptly broke it when he cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.

“i’m sorry y/n, for everything. i’m sorry for the lies i’ve told you about why i was always late to our meetups and why i was always getting bruises and cuts. i’m sorry for not opening up about my life sooner like you did, that wasn’t fair for you and i’m truly sorry for being the reason you cried,” he apologised.

“you saw me?” you asked, surprised that he knew.

he smiled and gazed at you,”how could i leave without taking one last glance at you,”

his words had a way of lifting an invisible weight off your chest. it felt surreal. the way he was able to enchant you with a few meek words that anyone could say, but he had his own unique charm that made you euphoric.

with a pause, tooru closed his eyes for a second, getting ready to say something.

“y/n…i-“

“tooru.”

a sudden rough, deep voice caused both of you to stop dancing and turn to see what you assumed to be tooru’s father. his demeanour sent chills down your spine as he looked at you with a stone cold expression. tooru looked irritated and turned around to face the king with a serious face as if he just switched personalities.

“father,” tooru said, in an expectant tone.

“come with me,” he demanded, turning around with his royal cloak following as it fluttered in the air.

tooru gave his father a small nod, his palms starting to become mildly sweaty. before he followed his father, he promptly turned around and held both of your shoulders and whispered,”there’s a side door near the back of the hall, exit from there and you’ll see a small stone shelter. go there and wait for me. i’ll try to be quick.”

the smell of a faint rosemary scent grew stronger as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin and an unexpected warmth resided on your cheek. with that he left, with you looking at his figure slowly fading away. you placed a hand to your left cheek where he laid his soft lips and rigidly exhaled. you’re full of surprises tooru, you thought.

you made haste, trying to ignore all the eyes that were on you. to your demise the same girl that tooru caught stood in your way, not moving an inch.

“excuse me ma’am, i have to get through,” you politely asked, starting to become impatient.

"you're not royalty," she accused, looking at you up and down.

"what?" you asked confused, just wanting to get out of the hall.

"you're clearly not royalty. your manners are ridiculous and you certainly don't know when to be on time, you attention seeker," she taunted, causing the crowd around you to gasp and snicker at her accusation.

to say you were peeved was an understatement. she irked you in a way no one has before. her voice was like a nagging child throwing a tantrum. it made your ears bleed. you wanted to grab her fake hair and strangle it around her neck. you would’ve if you had the chance. alas you sadly had to remain calm and collected.

“you’re just being hypocritical, miss. i’m sure everyone here saw the way you desperately threw yourself at the prince,” you retorted with a smile. the woman’s cocky expression quickly dropped to a glare.

“you lowly bitc-”

“i think that’s enough lady ayame,” iwaizumi cut in, his words silencing the crowd as he stepped out into the open.

you turned around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice walking towards the two of you. he stopped and looked down upon the ayame with cold eyes.

“l-lieutenant iwaizumi,” she cowardly said in fear, curtseying while avoiding his gaze.

he then turned to you. you slightly jumped, scared that he’d glare at you too for causing a commotion. you were frozen in place.

“see lieutenant, she isn’t even showing her manners towards you!” ayame pointed out, trying to justify her actions.

iwaizumi didn’t bother wasting his time by talking to her. instead he raised his hand in a way to silence her in which she immediately stopped talking as he kept his eyes on you. at this point you were sweating bricks, trying to not move an inch. this isn’t what i was signing up for.

“go,” he sternly said, nudging his head to the direction of the door.

all you could reply with was a nod then you grabbed a handful of your gown and ran out, not daring to look back. i’ll have to thank him later, i almost got into a cat fight.

you were amazed at the scenery in front of you when you frantically left the hall. you suspected it to be the royal garden. you stepped down onto the footpath, hearing the therapeutic sound of flowing water from the fountain surrounded by an abundance of radiant flowers. from the dim street lights illuminating the garden, to the warm summer breeze brushing against your skin you felt ethereal and nostalgic at the same time. finally, you entered the stone shelter, still admiring the scenery in front of you as you patiently waited for tooru to arrive.

--- ⁠✧

it must've been more than five minutes now and slowly the rain droplets began pattering against the cobblestone paths and yet it wasn’t cold at all. the summer night prevented it. you hated the humid air as it clung onto your skin, feeling sticky.

you speculated on what kept tooru so back. did his father need to talk to him about an important matter that they had to speak about in private? a thousand questions began to swirl in your mind as you started to worry.

in deep thought, you saw a tall figure approaching through the heavy rain. you stood up, squinting to make out who it was. it was tooru. you immediately started shouting his name whilst waving your hand, encouraging him to run faster. you couldn’t help but beam at his presence, excited to what he was going to tell you. he stood in front of you panting, his hair covering half his face as water dripped from his hair and clothes. he shook his hair like a dog, trying to dry himself. you screamed as you tried to backed away from the water droplets attacking you while tooru evilly laughed trying to get closer to you.

“ugh, tooru get away from me!” you shouted with a light hearted laugh, running around in circles from the small space of the shelter.

tooru laughed in response, catching you from behind with a hug. immediately, your gown started getting wet. you tried hitting his arms so he would let go but he didn’t budge.

“come on tooru, let go of me!” you whined, attempting to pry his arms open.

“hmm, i don’t think i will,” he teased, resting his head on your shoulder.

you huffed and roughly turned yourself around so you could see him, and lifted his damp hair up trying to clearly see his face until you saw a harsh red mark on his cheek. your lips parted at the realisation of why he took so long and cupped his face. this time he didn't flinch or back away.

“tooru…” you painfully started. how could he just stand there and smile at you?

“yes y/n?” he asked, gazing at you with a warm smile, not bothering to hide what you saw.

not finding any words to reply with, you just gave him a warm embrace to which he accepted. you cried deeply inside. why did you always have to see him bruised and battered?

“you don’t deserve this tooru,” you sighed.

“don’t worry about it y/n,” tooru reassuringly replied, stroking your hair.

“ it’s all my fault,” you began.

“if i hadn’t showed up none of this would’ve happened. you would still be in the hall celebrating your birthday, having the time of your life with everyone. but instead you’re stuck with me and now your reputation is most likely ruined. i mean, did you see everyone ogling us? they definitely didn’t enjoy seeing me dance with you,” you concluded with a heavy heart.

“if the world were to suddenly end in the next minute, i wouldn’t regret being stuck with you,” he professed. you couldn’t help but let out a breath of unbelief, marvelled at his statement.

“well tooru, as the next heir wouldn’t you think that you should be spending your time wisely?” you sarcastically asked, eyebrows dramatically raised trying to make him laugh.

“well y/n, i’d be glad to tell you that i’m not the heir to the throne anymore,” he retorted, mocking the same face you made to him.

“yeah sure tooru, nice joke,” you rolled your eyes at him smirking but he kept a straight face.

“that wasn’t a joke y/n,” he claimed, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“you’re pulling my leg,” you said dumbfounded.

tooru hysterically laughed at your expression while you stood there wide eyed.

“tooru, please tell me i heard that correctly,” you asked, wanting affirmation on the words you processed.

“what do you think i said?” he teased smirking at you.

“i think you’re lying,” you retorted.

“and why would i ever lie about that?” he asked, enjoying your flabbergasted state.

“y-you’re really not lying?” you questioned, not wanting to fall for another joke. tooru gave you an honest smile. you knew he wasn’t lying anymore.

“holy shit,” you swore out of disbelief. tooru laughed at your reaction.

“is that how you got that?” you pointing to his cheek, looking at him with empathy.

“maybe,” he teased.

“I’m being serious tooru,” you sternly said, having enough with his antics.

he sighed,”well, father called me out to talk about you first and foremost. he scolded me about inviting you and giving you that gown but i didn’t care. that wasn’t the reason why he did this though. i said that i didn’t want to be king and that i was going to leave the palace to join the army like iwaizumi and was the result,” he bashfully said scratching the back of his head.

“does this mean you’re no longer a prince?” you wondered.

“i still am by blood. i'm just not going to be king. i never intended to stay anyway,” he explained.

"then who's going to step up in your place?"

"that's where my sister came in and explained how she's already prepared to be a queen since she's older than me and smarter too. father just never shown her favour because of mother. he wanted her to live a calm and peaceful life. it's quite a twist of events that all came out to my fortune," he smiled to himself, thankful his sister stepped in for him.

"i wish i met your sister," you said, thinking of her as a role model already.

"you really wouldn't. she gets mad at me all the time for the littlest things," he grumbled, remembering all the times he got scolded by her.

"i can understand why, you are like an annoying little pest," you teased with a giggl, to which tooru pouted and whined.

as the two of you died down, a comfortable silence took over as you two listened to the pitter patters of the ongoing rain. i've missed this. what a coincidence that you both thought it at the same time. tooru looked over to your calm figure as you gazed out onto the garden.

"y/n?" tooru called, seeking your attention.

"mhm?" you responded, turning around to face him. he was closer than before.

"remember before i left, I wanted to say something to you?" he asked nervously.

"hmm, oh yeah, you were about to say something to me. what was it?" you recalled, curious onto what he was going to say.

"well, the sole reason i wanted to be a knight was because i couldn't protect my mum. of course no one was able to save her, but the burden and guilt that was left held me accountable from my perspective. it has always been my goal to protect everyone i love," he stopped, catching his breath. you gave him a nod, motioning him to continue.

"y/n, my heart aches everytime we depart. every goodbye you say to me makes me want to come running back to you. every lingering touch made me yearn more from you. i only experience the goodness of life through every second i get with you. truth be told when i say i live now to serve you," he expressed, pouring his heart and soul into every word he said.

"w-what are you getting at tooru?" you hesitantly ask, your heart racing for an answer.

"i love you, y/n. i'm not trying to force you to love me. i just…" he momentarily paused gathering his thoughts before continuing, "i won't ask you to love me, so please just give me permission to love you."

you had the utmost authority right now. he was pleading to you. he loves you. with all these realisations, you stood there, opposite a lovesick tooth, filled to the max with mixed emotions. good ones, where one of which swayed you to leaped into tooru's arms as you held him tightly close.

"is this a yes?" tooru asked with a grin as he gazed at you longingly.

what followed, your weren't entirely too sure. your brain fogged as the proximity between the two of you came to a close. tooru's soft, puckered lips collided gently against yours. you both could exhaled at the contact, releasing all your tensions as the world came to a stop for both of you. sparks of joy leaped from tooru's chest as he cherished the moment. this was his reward for waiting so patiently for you. the strong scent of rosemary intoxicated your lungs as you breathed him in. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers carding through his locks. you were each others addiction, craving for more, not letting go until you were both satisfied. pulling away, you both took deep breaths whilst gazing at each other fondly. tooru still holding you close.

"that was…" tooru began between small breaths.

"amazing," you finished, a wide smile forming on your heated face.

"of course it was, aren't i a great kisser?" tooru praised, returning back to his charming self.

"oh stop it," you rolled your eyes as you tried to turn away from him.

"look at you becoming shy because of me," he teased, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards the rain. you decided to just let him take you, knowing you wouldn't have enough strength to defy him.

"i've always wanted to do this with you," he shouted through the booming sound of rain.

"do what?" you shouted back, trying to block the rain from your view with your hand.

he took your hand and placed it on his shoulder, intertwining his remaining hand with yours. a familiar scene playing out again. instead, this time you both looked ridiculous. clothes soaking wet that whenever tooru would twirl you around your gown would project droplets of water like an umbrella. but you both didn't care. laughing carefree, acting childish, knowing you'd be sick the next day and yet you both had no regrets. the rain began to disperse and you both came to stop, finally tired from all the dancing.

smiling up at him you greeted, "happy birthday tooru," before pulling on his collar and giving him one final peck on his soft pillowy lips, as the summer breeze flowed by and the cicadas buzzed in the trees.

it didn't feel real. it felt heavenly.

#haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #oikawa torū #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa #tooru #royal au #*⁠.⁠✧ " it's not real

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Dr. Feel Good

Pairing: JoeQuinnxReader

Summary: After Joe said he'd be a therapist if he wasn't an actor, I couldn't get it out of my head. It had to be written. You're dating Joe, who is a therapist, and you can't stop fantasizing about him taking you on the couch in his office. So, you decide to make it a reality.

18+ Only

You entered the building, making your way up the stairs to the office of Dr. Quinn, your boyfriend. You knew he was done with patients for the day. The two of you had reservations at a new Italian restaurant in town in a couple hours and you knew he would be spending that time revising his notes, getting ready for tomorrow’s patients. 

Smoothing down your skirt, you pushed the door to the main office open, delighted to see that Brenda, his secretary, was already gone for the day. Your plan required the office to be empty. Joe would never be convinced if he thought anyone could hear. It was going to be hard to convince him as it was. 

Peeking into his office, you saw your boyfriend hard at work, glasses slipping down the bridge of that adorable nose, brow furrowed in deep concentration as he read his notes on whatever patient he’d seen last that day. However, tonight, you intended on being his last patient. 

You’d been fantasizing about it for months, unable to get the image out of your head. You lying back on his couch, admitting all your naughtiest thoughts to him. Joe shifting in his leather chair as he tried to hide his obvious arousal. Him making his way to you, taking you hard and fast on that couch where so many others had poured out their problems. Maybe it was wrong, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you fulfilled this fantasy. 

You rapped your knuckles lightly against the doorframe and he glanced up, beautifully full lips curving into a smile when he saw it was you. The soft light of the lamp on the desk casting him in an ethereal glow, those brown eyes as warm as freshly baked bread as they roamed over your body, taking in the high heels, the short skit, the fitted top that put your breasts on full display. 

“Darling, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, tapping his pen against the top of the walnut desk. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant at nine. Am I wrong?”

“No,” you mused, slowly stepping, purposefully placing one foot over the other as you made your way to his couch. “I was thinking we could have an appetizer first.” You sat down, running your hands over the soft leather. 

“Sweetheart, what are you up to?” he asked suspiciously. 

“You know, Doctor, I haven’t been sleeping well,” you began, silently hoping he would go along with this. You knew how professional he was and you were nervous he was going to shut you down. You laid back on the couch, propping your heeled feet on the end. “My mind won’t stop spinning at night, all these dirty thoughts keeping me awake.”

“Darling, what is this?” he asked, his tone serious but you sensed a hint of curiosity in there. 

“I know it’s wrong but I can’t stop thinking about you, Doctor,” you breathed, running your hands over your breasts and down your torso. “I keep thinking about what your mouth would feel like on my breasts, what your fingers would feel like on my pussy, and how amazing your cock would feel stretching me out, making me scream.”

Joe’s eyes went wide, “Are you serious? Sweetheart, this is highly inappropriate. This is my place of business. We can’t…”

“I know it’s inappropriate, Doctor, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I want you to bend me over this couch and fuck me hard and rough, pulling my hair, choking me, calling me dirty names. I don’t think I will ever be able to sleep until it happens. Can’t you help me, Doctor?”

You turned your head, eyes meeting Joe’s, pleading with him to play along as you pulled your skirt up over your knees, spreading your legs just enough for him to see that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Heat pooled in your center as, just like in your fantasy, Joe visibility shifted in his chair, his hand coming to his crotch to adjust his pants. 

“You are so fucking bad,” he breathed, slowly rising from his chair. He made his way over to you, running his finger along your leg, up your thigh. “Do you need my help, love?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip, “I do. I need it so bad.”

One of Joe’s hands came to his belt, undoing it, sliding it from the loops of his pants. He folded it in half, his other hand grabbing onto your arm, yanking you off the couch and spinning you. 

“Get on all fours,” he commanded. You did as you were told, your pussy vibrating with anticipation of finally getting what you’d been aching for. He lifted your skirt, draping it over your hips, exposing you to him. Joe raised his arm, bringing the belt down against your ass, the sound of it slapping against your skin echoing through the office. “Bad girls need to be punished and you are being a very bad girl.”

“Yes…I’m so bad…” you groaned, fingers gripping the arm of the couch as the belt connected with your skin again. You cried out at the stinging pleasure. 

“You want me to take you on this couch? You want to feel my hands all over you? You want me to make you scream?” he growled into your ear, palming your pussy. You whimpered, frantically nodding as Joe took a fistful of your hair in his hand, pulling your head back so you rose onto your knees, your back pressed against him. Two fingers plunged into you roughly and you cried out. “You love that, don’t you, you dirty little cunt?”

“Yes, yes!” you gasped, arching against him. 

“Tell me you love it,” he commanded, curving his fingers, causing you to writhe, barely capable of coherent sounds. 

“I…oh fuck…I love it…I love it!”

“You love what?”

“I love when you fuck me with your fingers!”

“You want more, bad girl?”

“Yes!”

Joe added a third finger, stretching you further. Your legs tried to clamp closed but Joe nudged them with his knee, spreading you even more. Your entire body trembled at the intense sensations that were crashing over you. His free hand wrapped around your throat, his fingers thrusting hard and fast. 

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he hissed, squeezing just enough to cut off your air supply. Just as spots were clouding your vision, he released the tension and you gasped, sucking in oxygen. “My needy little cunt, coming to my office, just begging for it.”

“Jesus…” you mewled, thighs quivering at his words, your body right on the edge. 

“Don’t you dare fucking come, darling,” commanded Joe, his fingers slipping from your body. “I own this pussy. It’s mine. You don’t get to come until I say so and I want you to come around this cock.”

He gripped your waist, pulling you to him, his mouth devouring yours, tongue dominating, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Then he spun you, pressing against your back so you were arched over the arm of the couch. Joe undid his pants, shoving them down to his ankles and then he was driving into you so hard your hands grabbed onto the fabric to steady yourself. 

“Yes. Fuck darling, your pussy is so goddamn wet,” he groaned, fisting your hair once again, using it as leverage as he thrust into you, the sound of your bodies colliding forcefully ringing in your ears. “Bloody hell, the feel of you under me is so goddamn addicting. You like it rough, don’t you, my dirty girl?”

“Yes! Never stop,” you groaned, the side of your face pressed into the couch, the fabric rubbing over your clit, applying pressure that was so damn good. He’d told you not come but fuck, you needed to. You were so close. “Doctor, your cock feels so good. I need to come, please!”

“Does my naughty little slut want to come?” he asked, tugging at your hair. His other hand gripped your breast, pinching your nipple and pulling at it roughly. 

“Please…” you whimpered pathetically, “please, I need it so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he mused, leaning forward. “Come for me, darling.”

“Joe!” you screamed, your body arching as wave upon wave of your release rolled over you. Joe never ceased his merciless thrusting, slamming into you again and again as you crested. The grip on your hair tightened, pulling back harshly as he let out an animalistic grunt, his body tensing behind you and you felt his release as it filled you. 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled, collapsing forward over you, pressing his lips against your back. He slowly rose, pulling out and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, gently helping you clean up. You carefully stood on shaky legs, turning to him. Joe smiled, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Well, that was a delicious appetizer before dinner.”

“Yeah, it was. Jesus…that was so much hotter than I even imagined,” you gasped, still unsteady. 

Joe grabbed your arms and leaned in, his lips right next to your ear. “Now, after dinner, I am thinking about dessert. And I know exactly what I want. I am planning on licking that sweet little pussy for hours.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered. 

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn smut #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn x you

[alonetimelover]

Easter Monday

pairing: Harry Styles x slavic(polish)!fem!reader

summary: Harry nad YN are spending their first Easter together, embracing their cultural differences. To celebrate Easter Monday Harry found something very interesting on the internet, hoping to make YN happy, he decided to surprise her with it - id didn't go as planned.

word count: ~1,3k (a little baby)

a/n: so i found out about this holiday in Poland and decided that it would make a fun, fluffy piece for the slavic!reader trope. if i got something wrong, please do tell me!

(another piece of wiriting with a slavic! reader is here > BRITs awards <)

masterlist

When Harry met YN, he promised himself to learn about Polish mores, some words to understand at least a part of what YN was talking about with her family back home and Polish food. Being a pescatarian excluded him from trying quite a few national dishes but YN found enough alternatives for him to eat. He loved it (or so he told YN). 

Here he was, on Easter Sunday evening, researching Polish mores during Easter. For the first time in their relationship, they decided to spend those holidays together at Harry’s home in London.

The cultural differences were noticeable. YN didn’t grow up with Egg hunting on Sunday morning, but with going to church on Saturday to have food sacred. On Sunday morning there was an Easter breakfast - eggs (so many colourful eggs), the sour rye soup (yes, soup for breakfast) served in a round bread bowl, variable meat on the cold platter and, most importantly, cakes - mazurek and babka. Harry felt that he’d especially love those cakes. 

Harry growing up didn’t do much for Easter. He enjoyed sleeping in for a few days, hunting eggs on Sunday and then going on with his life. His family never attached much importance towards Easter - they used those days for family time, hosting board games’ tournaments with a feast happening in the dining room. 

So saying that YN’s way of celebrating was a shock for Harry was easily not enough. 

“You want to celebrate the way that I’m used to?” She asked him two months before Easter. 

“Yes.” He kissed her knuckles. “I want to spend it the way you always do. We’ll paint those colourful eggs and then eat this big breakfast.”

“Pisanki, those are the colourful eggs. And that big breakfast is almost not edible for you.”

“Because of meat?” YN nodded her head. “Well, then we’ll go to the local market and buy some plant based alternatives. Polish Easter breakfast with a twist. What do you say?”

“I love it.”

That was what they had done. 

Harry invited his mother, sister and her fiancé to celebrate with them. All of them sat down with brushes and paint, and decorated the eggs. YN prepared the breakfast - with plant based sausage, and with two cakes baked just the way her grandma did, while Harry was responsible for taking care of the guests, saying “I’m so sorry, but I know, I’ll just ruin whatever you’re doing there, my love." 

Everybody enjoyed breakfast, agreeing that soup being present was a mistake, but wasn’t untasty. Cakes did a furore - Anne asked for a recipe and Gemma promised to beg for them constantly. YN was happy that people appreciated her culture. 

And when people left, just mere two hours ago, Harry and YN tidied up in the house and she went to sleep, he, on the other hand sat in front of his computer, searching. ‘What Poles do on Easter Monday?’ was a question tapped into a search bar. After clicking the first website linked, with a shock appearing on his face, eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word read, Harry stood up and went to the bedroom. He needed to visit a park tomorrow’s morning to get what was needed. 

The next day YN woke up to a cold bed, which was more than expected - Harry was an early bird (woke up as early as 5 am) when YN liked to sleep until at least 6:30. After doing her morning stretches and going to the bathroom, she moved downstairs to start on the breakfast. Harry usually waited for her, so they could eat together and talk about their plans for a day. 

“Harry! Baby! I’m making coffee, you want some?” She called into an (probably) empty house. 

While not getting an answer, she went to the kitchen starting Harry’s fancy coffee machine. She needed caffeine. 

It was strange that Harry didn’t leave any note, saying where he had gone. Nothing on the fridge, or under a fruit basket and no text either. She started to get worried when halfway through her first meal of the day Harry’s plate was still full and slowly getting cold. 

Over the speakers, YN listened to Lana Del Rey’s album Ultraviolence, singing silently under her nose. She didn’t hear the back door slowly open and close. She didn’t hear the steps nearing her body. Most importantly, she didn’t hear the movement of the bucket full of water being directed at her. 

“Ah!” She screeched when the cold water covered her whole body. From the top of her head to her toes, there was no dry spot. She was soaked and not in a good way. 

“Happy śmigus-dyngus day!” Harry screamed, unconsciously murdering the language with a smile on his face, and started to hit YN with pussy willow branches. 

“Harry! Are you out of your mind?” YN asked, trying to simultaneously flick the water from her face and catch the branch that had been continuously hitting her upper arm. “Harry, stop it!”

“What?” He asked, confused, stopping mid-air. “Why did you stop me? It’s a tradition!”

The ligt bulb switched on in YN's mind. She understood, for a moment looking at Harry with an open mouth and big eyes. “ Oh God!” She finally laughed. “Oh my God!”

“What - what is going on?”

“Harry, did you - did you find about this day on the internet?”

“Yes, obviously. Where would I get information about something like this from?” He still couldn’t comprehend the tradition that he was taking part of. What was the point of it? 

“Maybe me. Someone that actually celebrates it?” YN prompted. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Harry said quietly, putting down the bucket and moving around the kitchen to get YN a clean tower. 

“Listen - thank you -” she responded, after getting the towel, “- people don’t do it like this anymore.” She began drying herself off. “There is no hitting with branches. And not only boys are throwing water - it’s not gender-driven.”

Harry sat down in front of YN, getting sad.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, clasping her hands in his. “I - I just wanted to do something that would make you feel like people around you know what you celebrate and do on specific holidays. ‘Supposed to be a surprise. Didn’t work. I’m sorry.” he kissed her knuckles, looking at her like a lost puppy. His eyes big and a little pout present on his lips. 

“And I appreciate it so much.” She pecked his pout away, making him smirk. “These holidays, you've made me feel like I was back home. it means the most to me. Just didn’t like getting bitten up with a pussy willow.”

“Not a fan?” Harry’s smirk getting more daring. 

“Not really. When it comes to Easter Monday, I’ve always just splashed people with water and called it a day. Well, when my cousins and I were younger, we used to just pour water on each other from the garden hose. It was entertaining. But always doing it outside of the house.” YN gave Harry a look towards the wet floor. “If not, we were cleaning not only the water but the whole house.”

“Am I going to be doing the same?” Harry asked with the same smirk from before, he enjoyed it. 

“Yep. Absolutely.” YN stood up rapidly and moved to the closet to give Harry a mop. “Chop, chop!”

With a laugh, Harry gripped the mop and started cleaning. Unfortunately for him, the bucket he used was voluminous, and the amount of water on the floor was significant. While looking for the bucket to wring out the excess water, Harry lost his focus. Suddenly, his whole body started shivering from the cold liquid dripping from his head and down to the floor. 

“Happy śmigus-dyngus day!” YN laughed at Harry. 

Quickly enough, they both were running around the backyard - most clothes discarded in a run - under the rain of water from the garden hose. YN felt like a careless child again, and Harry decided just then he always wanted to see her that happy.

Sometimes misinformation on the internet could lead to good times, he thought. But only sometimes.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #slavic!reader #polish!reader #harry styles

[daydreamingyuta]

Self-Care Day with Mark

“Waittt why am I actually so excited for today?” Mark says smiling at you. 

“It’s so cute that you’re excited, but I feel kinda bad.” You say. 

“Why?” Mark replies confused.

“It’s the first day off you’ve had in a while and I feel like you could be spending your time off in a more fun way.” 

“First off, spending time with the most beautiful girl in the world is always what I would rather be doing, no matter what we do. And I didn’t want to disturb your self care day because I know how much days like this mean to you, I mean you literally have it written down in your planner.”

“Okay if you’re sure.” You say while laughing because Mark grabbed you and kissed you on your temple. 

“What do we do first?” 

“We have to get into comfy clothes and then we will do face masks! These are my favorite they’re so good!” You say, showing them to Mark.

Mark was already in his sweats so while you changed into your favorite pajamas he looked for something to hold his hair back. Mark grabbed one of your headbands that have animal ears on them, making him look like a panda. When you came back into the bathroom he hands you the bunny headband but then changed his mind because he thinks you look cuter with the bear ears headband. 

“Cutee!” Mark says watching you put the headband on.

You two put on the face masks and then go into your room after setting the timer. 

“What do you usually do while you wait for the timer to go off?” 

“I usually write in my gratitude journal.” You say grabbing it off your desk. 

“Ohh what’s that?”

“So basically you write down a few things that you are grateful for, just to remind you that there are always good things in life even when things get hard.” You explain.

“Ohh I really like that. What are you writing down?” Mark asks.

“Umm I’m definitely grateful that I am able to have the time to have a self care day, because I’ve been really busy lately. I’m also grateful for the amazing people in my life.” You say writing everything down.

“Can I write some stuff down too?”

“Yeah!” You say handing Mark your notebook.

“I’m grateful for having a day off, I love working but having time to relax is really important. I’m grateful that I get to spend the day with my amazinggg girlfriend. And I’m grateful that this timer is about to go off because I can’t move my face anymore, is that supposed to happen?”

“Don’t make me laugh! It hurts. And yes that’s normal.” You say while trying to keep a straight face. 

You two go to wash the face mask off and then do the rest of your skin care together. 

“Okay! I always try to bake something on my self care days. I have the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and banana bread. Which one sounds the best to you?” You ask as you two walk to the kitchen.

“The brownies for sure” Mark says nodding his head.

 “I’ll get our aprons!” He says walking towards them. 

“Oh its really not that mess-” You say, stopping mid sentence because Mark was already putting the apron on you. 

“Thank you Mark.”

You grab all the ingredients that you need and the two of you start making the brownies. It was actually a good thing that Mark made you two put the aprons on because the second you turned away to grab the eggs, he managed to spill flour all over him self.

Once the brownies were in the oven it was time to watch a movie.

“You know what I have been really wanting to rewatch?” You say to Mark.

“Hm?”

“One of the spider man movies or are you sick of watching them?”

“Never!” He say, faking being offended that you would even ask such a question. 

You two take the aprons off and settle down on the couch grabbing your favorite blanket. You get almost an hour into the movie when the oven beeps telling you that the brownies were done. You two both get up to go into the kitchen and Marks grabs a knife to test if the brownies are actually done. When the knife comes out clean he grabs the oven mitts and takes the brownies out. 

“These smell amazing y/n” Mark says wanting to take a piece right away. 

“Mark! let it cool, remember when you burned yourself when we made cookies?”

“But it smells so good y/n!” 

You grab Marks hand to lead him back onto the couch to continue watching the movie. When a good amount of time passes, you get up to cut two pieces. Mark takes the plate while you sit down and then you both try the brownies. 

“Y/n pause the movie.” Mark says very seriously.

“Okay.” You say as you hit pause.

“These are the best brownies I have ever had in my entire life.” 

“Mark! I thought you were going to say that you hated them or something. But yeah they’re pretty good.”

“No y/n. These aren’t pretty good. These are award winning.”

“I’m glad you like them.” You say laughing. 

Mark always praises you for the smallest things. It seems like he’s being a little over dramatic, but he is completely sincere. He just loves everything you do. You two finish the brownies and by the end of the movie you are falling asleep. Mark notices and pulls the blanket over you while he cuddles in closer to you. 

#mark lee #mark lee fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #kpop #kpop fluff #k-pop #k-pop fluff

[dnptarot]

hey everyone! im so so sorry to be changing up so many things after having already started the event, but i haven't done this before so honestly i am learning as i go with help from some really cool people. some people have brought to my attention that a uniform border and font might make these cards look more like a deck, and @psychicmoth has offered to make a border template that can just be layered over your art when it's finished. would you guys want this, or would you like to just do your own thing? i am completely fine either way, it just depends what you say here ❤️ sorry again, and thank you for participating and being patient while i work out the kinks ❤️🙏

taglist: @less-amazing @fagus-sylvatica-beech-hedge @thelibertini @aaaaaaaaa-no @macabremaxx @ghoulish-art-tendencies @wannieswifey @bogboygremlinthing @emojackolantern @echioceras @rainytastemakeralpaca @danrifics @leanned-too-hard @an-internet-introvert @littlegreenfrog @jupiter-pls @freshbaked-bread @serendipnpipity @saturnisfallingdown @demonqueenart @mordekaiserswhore @all-star-lester @simplydnp @queenusagiblog @hiwatari @firehologram @feral-teeth @fuckingmeteors @dapg-otmebytheballs @psychicmoth @yonpote @anironsidh @lumintsu @will-kill-god-for-a-baking-video @ayushikuu @y0ubelongwithme @frissoningg @jutsomethoughtsihave @l0zito @obv10usly @hits-dipherent @ardenpng @koyalime @macaronimars @queercatwithhat

[jujumin-translates]

Tsuzuru Minagi | [SR] Reminiscence of Blooming | Veludo Town Oshi Spot! ~Video: Tsuzuru~ - Part 2

Homare: I’m glad they permitted us to film in the store, even if it was limited to being during the time before the store opens.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I’m glad that they willingly agreed. Even if it meant we’d be interrupting their preparation time.

Homare: Yes. Well, we don’t want to make them late for opening time, so shall we get started?

Tsuzuru: Yeah. Let’s do this.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: Hello. I’m MANKAI Company’s Spring Troupe’s Tsuzuru Minagi.

Tsuzuru: Arisugawa-san is the one filming.

Homare: Winter Troupe’s Homare Arisugawa. Today I am Tsuzuru-kun’s cameraman.

Tsuzuru: Thank you for today.

Homare: Yes, my pleasure.

Tsuzuru: Well then, the place I’m going to introduce to you all is here, a shop called “Bakery Theato”.

Tsuzuru: Today we have special permission to be here before opening time.

Homare: The lovely aroma of baking bread fills the store!

Tsuzuru: It’s really appetizing.

Tsuzuru: …Actually, the reason I learned about his place was because of my fellow Spring Troupe member, Masumi.

Homare: Oho, is that so?

Tsuzuru: Yeah. I never used to buy bread at this bakery, but…

Tsuzuru: Then Masumi started getting curry bread from here for me often, and it’s really good.

Tsuzuru: And I liked them so much that I started buying some for myself from time to time.

Homare: I see, so that’s why. Have you ever gotten anything other than curry bread?

Tsuzuru: Of course! Their curry bread isn’t the only thing that’s delicious.

Tsuzuru: Plus they have different bread every day, so I don’t think you’ll get bored of it even if you come here every single day.

Homare: That’s splendid! I’d come here every day if I could.

Tsuzuru: They have a lot of different kinds of bread, but I like this salted bread the most.

Tsuzuru: This time, I was given special permission to have some inside the store, so I’m gonna eat it right away.

Tsuzuru: Well then, let’s dig in. Awmph…

Homare: How is it?

Tsuzuru: Delicious as always. It’s simple with the outside being crispy and the inside being chewy…

Tsuzuru: And the saltiness is just right, I’ll never get bored of eating it.

Homare: It’s a quite delectable-looking food review. It makes me want to try some as well.

Tsuzuru: After we finish filming, you should try some too, Arisugawa-san.

Homare: Yes, I shall do that.

Tsuzuru: All of their breads are really delicious, I encourage you all to try them.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Homare: Good work, Tsuzuru-kun.

Tsuzuru: Same to you, Arisugawa-san. Thanks for filming.

Tsuzuru: Well then, please try this salted bread.

Homare: Yes, I shall. Mhmm…

Homare: This is… it has a simple but gentle and delicate flavor! It is simply delectable, Tsuzuru-kun!

Tsuzuru: I’m glad you like it! The other stuff is delicious too, so I encourage you to try them all!

Homare: Of course! As soon as the shop opens, I shall purchase every variety!

Tsuzuru: No, that’s too much regardless of the reason!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: (Today’s the day for me to post my video.)

Tsuzuru: Umm, here’s the video, and then for the offshoot photo… this one should be okay. Upload this and… there.

Tsuzuru: Done. …Let me double-check it, just in case.

*Vlog start*

Tsuzuru: They have a lot of different kinds of bread, but I like this salted bread the most.

Tsuzuru: This time, I was given special permission to have some inside the store, so I’m gonna eat it right away.

Tsuzuru: Well then, let’s dig in. Awmph…

Homare: How is it?

Tsuzuru: Delicious as always. It’s simple with the outside being crispy and the inside being chewy…

Tsuzuru: And the saltiness is just right, I’ll never get bored of eating it.

Homare: It’s a quite delectable-looking food review. It makes me want to try some as well.

*Vlog end*

Tsuzuru: Alright, looks good.

Masumi: …Tsuzuru.

Tsuzuru: Uwhoa, when did you get here, Masumi? Something wrong?

Masumi: Don’t “something wrong?” me.

Masumi: What if that bakery gets super crowded because you introduced it to everyone and then I can’t buy curry bread?

Tsuzuru: What? That’s not…

*Door opens*

Rento: Is Tsuzuru here!?

Tsuzuru: Whoa, what are you doing here, Kinozaki-san!?

Rento: Don’t worry ‘bout that! Why’d ya introduce that bakery!?

Tsuzuru: Why… should I not have?

Rento: I love the melon pan there and go there literally all the time! What if that place becomes too popular and I can’t get it anymore!?

Tsuzuru: No, that’s…

Masumi: It was so good, that place wasn’t crowded and it was like a well-kept-secret place.

Rento: Woulda liked to have kept that place a secret if I coulda…

Tsuzuru: Uh, I’m sorry…?

Rento: Nah, it’s fine. More customers are good for the bakery.

Tsuzuru: Well, if you look at it from the store’s perspective, it is good for sales.

Rento: I ‘spose… We should be happy that the people who make such good melon pan are happy!

Masumi: Yeah. If we want to get bread, we can just go early in the morning. That way we’ll never lose to the other customers.

Rento: Woo, that’s the spirit!

Rento: My bad, Tsuzuru. Well, I better dip. Later!

Masumi: I’m going back to our room.

*Door closes*

Tsuzuru: Ugh… well, those two were like a storm sweeping through.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ]

#a3! #a3! translation #tsuzuru minagi #homare arisugawa #masumi usui #rento kinozaki

[memories-beneath-the-skin]

fighting time logged against self imposed architecture planned

we wake, live, breathe, plan, push, pull, fight, yearn, love, hate

we seem to think can control who we love, trust, confide

we see those around us and still fight with visions of dream or,

youth , a plan laid out we are unwilling to let go and truly accept

we fight our hearts, spilling blood, losing sleep, bruising our minds

we feel because we can select our ingredients from the store

how many grains of rice we cook, the type of tomatoes we chop

how long we bake the bread, what time the meal should be eaten

we ignore the moment love hits like a random violent car accident

we don't dwell on the friend that no matter what has stayed true

without hesitation know who we trust, with life, things and time

if we took the time to truly just love those that took the space,

in our hearts, to nurture, protect, enjoy and embrace

we would realize how tiring fighting the stigma of disbelief,

of our selfish visions and inflated control, we would feel absolutely

terrible for the time we have wasted, the control we didn't have,

the right to weld, the moments we should have let go and,

embraced versus the whispers of our minds the temporary

I am done fighting my mind, done losing the little moments if,

grabbed heal the soul, done keeping a straight face when I want,

to laugh, and done being scared and looking for reasons I'm not,

good enough to be loved, and spend that time relishing it

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