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queers-gambit · 4 months

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Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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an-idyllic-novelist · 5 months

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rimuru tempest with fem!tanjiro!reader headcanons

Hey guys, welcome to another collaboration with @deathmetalunicorn1, though the credit on the concept of the pairing and these headcanons go to my dear friend. I really hope you will enjoy what we have written. If you'd like to see more content like this, or an extended version of these headcanons, please let us know!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy! :)

Although Rimuru Tempest knows his significant other and her little sister are strong, he will not stop worrying about Tanjiro!reader’s wellbeing, especially when she and Nezuko leave Tempest on a mission, and he is unable to join them for whatever reason. His anxiety will increase tenfold when his relationship with the former Demon Slayer evolved from being friends who just happened to stumble upon each other’s paths as soon as he left Veldor’s cave to being lovers.

It will be very hard for the demon lord to sleep for the first few nights when he is so used to curling up next to Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko, the latter sprawled out and almost always in her toddler form. However, when she does return, Tanjiro!reader will always bring back a souvenir from wherever she traveled to, normally a tasty treat or a cute little knick-knack she saw at a market.

[To ease his lord’s worries, Diablo will mobilize a few of the Black Numbers to keep a discreet eye on the Kamado siblings, personally delivering periodical reports on their whereabouts to Rimuru when it was an appropriate time between meetings and inspections around the capital. After all, an excellent butler must be able to anticipate his lord’s every need and alleviate his concerns so that he may continue to focus on his duties in the land. If something does happen, Diablo will act immediately and make sure Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko return to Tempest safely.]

Tanjiro!reader unwinds from her journey with a big hug from Rimuru in both his slime and human form. Rimuru would receive affection from Nezuko if she isn’t sleeping in her box in the form of bone crushing hugs or his hair being ruffled by a clawed hand. If Rimuru hadn’t eaten, she would whip a simple home-cooked meal that is either a traditional recipe from the Kamado household, or one that Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, had taught her when they were alive back in her old world.

Rimuru will definitely join in and help, even all she’ll allow him to do in the kitchen is wash the dishes.

After he had been reincarnated in this world, he took the Japanese cuisine he had eaten for granted, even the microwaveable ramen noodle cups he’d heat up in the company break room when he had to work late at the office. Back then, Misaki Satoru didn’t care much about his health so much as worried about forever remaining a virgin because he couldn’t score a date with a cute girl.

He honestly couldn’t have anything resembling his homeland’s cooking until his country was developed further, including the dwarves’ metal-working and the orcs’ infamous work ethic. He couldn’t remember how many times he had told Geld and the others to rest even when they insisted that they kept working. Now, he could share a meal and enjoy a hot bath with someone he loves very dearly.

Nezuko is, of course, welcomed to join them in the bath since she loves swimming around the large hot spring he had built in the back of his home. When she joined them, Rimuru reverted to being a slime to protect Nezuko’s innocence. If he’s alone with Tanjiro!reader, he’ll either be a slime or his human form, depending on his mood.

Speaking of which, Nezuko is the little sister everyone in Tempest adores and will be fiercely protected. Rimuru is her favorite person, but when Milim decides to stop by for a visit, she is Nezuko’s new favorite, no matter how much he bribes her with newest confections that were created or toys. But between these two….Nezuko will always pick Tanjiro!reader, if she’s an option.

Rimuru’s love language includes quality time, words of affirmation, and gift-giving. But what he enjoys the most is having afternoon tea on the porch, him sitting in her lap as a slime and munching on sticks of mitarashi dango or different flavored onigiri.

If anything happened to either Tanjiro!reader or Nezuko because an enemy nation was jealous of Tempest’s flourishing economy and thought it would be a brilliant idea to hold them hostage or try to hurt them….they had better be prepared to have another kingdom falling into ruins.

Remember what happened to Falmuth?

Taglist

@sunnyblackbird

@abelheilonwife

@nunezs-stuff

#an idyllic novelist #x reader headcanons #fem!reader #tanjiro!reader #kny x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #rimuru tempest x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #rimuru x reader #rimuru tempest #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader

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gothicminxx · 3 months

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Part 1 here

Part 2 is finally here! It took me forever to write, there’s a happy ending in this one I promise!

Satosugu x Fem! Reader

CW: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, pet names (baby and angel), established relationship with Gojo, mentions of sex if you squint. A slight razzle dazzle of the Shibuya arc.

WC: 5.2k

Also do y’all like love and deadspace? Thinking of posting a Zayne one shot soon.

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Late hours of the night brought the city to life, lights glittered brightly and it hid the beauty of the stars in the dark sky. Any attraction given to the charm of nature was only given to the full moon, bright and massive with a tint of blood orange to it tonight— a fitting color for Halloween night. The streets of Shibuya littered with college students and foreigners from different countries that had come down to experience a party of a lifetime. Common and unique costumes alike wandered drunkenly on the pavement, stumbling not only over their feet but words as well.

Halloween night in Shibuya was known for its array of bars, genres of music that boomed loudly in the city, and the small community of party goers that it created— a splendid environment for extroverts. It set the perfect trap for those with intentions that were the least bit pure to bait and capture the great Satoru Gojo, the man that had dampened the lives of curses the moment he was born.

The night had begun like any other, Satoru stood in the rather large kitchen with a gray towelette resting on his shoulder. He wore an apron that wrapped tightly around his slender waist as he concentrated on perfecting his tonkatsu chicken for dinner. Quietly he hummed along to a random playlist on his phone, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. His back muscles flexed the moment he began cutting up vegetables for dinner.

You stood in the kitchen with your husband, preparing a sweet cream that would accompany the matcha swiss rolls you were working hard on. Satoru, being a greedy man, adored having sweet pastries after dinner made by his lovely wife. He constantly begged you for a delicious confection, coaxing you with a much needed massage, or even a bath for two which always ended in a moment of tangled moans. You never complained when it came to indulging his addiction to sugar, it was a mere excuse to spend time together in the kitchen for a couple of hours, even if you already spent a lot of time with him.

Satoru grabbed plates from the cupboard to assemble your dinner as you popped your tasty dessert in the oven. Sauntering over to the small dining table you began to set everything up, allowing Satoru to pull a chair out for you before setting your dinner in front of you. Together you savored the flavors of each item of food, sharing in conversation about mundane things that held no importance at the time.

As dessert cooled down from the oven both of you sat on the cozy sectional couch in your living room, sitting on his lap to feed him dessert. Giggling as he threw compliments your way like a love sick puppy dog after each bite. Even if you had been married to Satoru for three years now the two of you acted like teenagers in love.

You laid snuggled up in his side with his arms wrapped tightly around you, watching a movie, slowly dozing off. Before a perfect night could conclude, Satoru’s phone rang loudly, begging for attention obnoxiously snapping you out of a sleepy haze. Groaning loudly he reached for his phone, pressing the green accept button with a roll of his eyes, “What is it now, Nanami?”

The deep gentle voice of Nanami flowed through his phone as he pressed it to his ear, furrowing his brows as he listened along. Being the nosy person you were, you tried your hardest to listen to the conversation but his voice was muffled. Whatever Nanami was telling Satoru it appeared to be serious, his body stiffened underneath you, “Uh huh, be there soon.” Satoru’s slender finger clicked the red decline button before he tossed the mobile device to the side.

A loud groan escaped his lips, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. A sense of worry washed over you as you quickly sat up, “I'm sorry baby, but we gotta get going.” He stated, standing from the couch as he extended his hand down to help you up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a perplexed expression falling on your beautiful face.

“It seems a veil has been casted down in Shibuya. Non-sorcerers are trapped inside without a way out, sorcerers may move freely in certain areas, while others are blocked off.” The situation sounded grave, it was concerning to be left in the dark, nobody had any idea of who could possibly be behind it.

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Leaning back against a metal pole you let out a loud heaving breath, clutching your cursed tool tightly that the white of your knuckles were visible. The head of a deformed human was held in your hand, blood spilling against the tile before you discarded it on the floor. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire after the relentless pace of bolting through the crowded subway station, slicing each deformed human that came near you. Mahito had an endless supply of these things, spitting more out from his mouth in globs that it seemed nearly impossible to kill them all.

Satoru had been separated from you for a mere second which was absolutely devastating for the powerful sorcerer, his main goal as it always has been, was to keep you safe in the confinements of his limitless technique. But Hanami and Jogo had different plans, separating him from you the moment an opportunity presented itself. You were ultimately the biggest thing he cared about, the cursed spirits had an understanding that as long as you were near Satoru, he would be reckless in his movements. Without hesitation he would hurt those that stood near as he used infinite void to destroy the cursed spirits if it meant keeping you safe. A technique that without fail would earn him victory.

Mahito had been put in charge of tiring you out, to exhaust all of your cursed energy, he doubted your abilities believing that you were a mere weakling. But as soon as his doubt came, it quickly deteriorated, the blade of your Katana burned bright red and pink resembling a wildfire. It terrified yet intrigued the patch face curse to witness first hand, he had only been warned that you were a reversed curse technique user with the special ability of bringing back the dead. The power of your cursed energy, the way you transferred it to the blade burning it, causing it to turn a lovely shade of glowing orange-- excited him, “I never knew you’d be this much fun!” Mahito giggled, twirling with his arms extended like a child.

Wiping sweat from your brow a smirk etched itself on your face, “I didn’t expect you to be this annoying.” You hissed, gripping the handle of the katana, digging your heel into the ground preparing to race towards him.

The cursed spirit had become a nuisance rather quickly that it had gotten under your skin. Your main focus was to run downstairs towards Satoru to be by his side, where you belonged. You knew better than to be worried about him, he was the strongest after all but you couldn’t help it— something was off. Digging the ball of your foot on the tile ground you lunged forward, the fiery blade coming in contact with the cursed spirit. Mahito’s eyes widened as your movements caught him off guard, piercing through his abdomen causing a choked cough to escape him. You twist the blade, listening to the squelch of his organs before pulling the Katana away, “I’m getting sick of your shit.” Your words are dripping with venom.

Another cackle stems from his lips that it only manages to enrage you more. The moment you had arrived with Satoru to Shibuya, warning bells rang in your head, the thick layers of the veil were enough to give you a clear sign. “Awe, you don’t mean that.” Mahito cooed, jutting his lips in a pout.

Igniting the katana with more cursed energy, your legs lept into another sprint, quick to dodge a blow from Mahito’s fist that stretched out like a rubber band. The fiery blade makes contact with his abdomen once more earning a groan of pain from his lips, crimson blood decorating the blade of your katana as it’s ripped away from Mahitos stomach. You could feel the familiar burn in your lungs and the ache in your muscles from exhaustion, constantly running circles around him for the last thirty minutes was draining.

Annoyingly enough for the patch face curse, exerting your physical stamina would never be enough to exhaust the cursed energy stored in your body. You were far too calculating, too aware of how much energy you needed to exude from yourself in order to take an opponent down; it was infuriating. If Mahito hadn’t been instructed to keep you alive, he would have touched the essence of your soul and morphed you into a doll he could play with.

Mahito tilted his head, clutching his fists tightly almost as if he was preparing to send another attack your way. Instead, he snickered as his gaze drifted to the stairs that led to the lower level of the subway station, “Come play some more, doll.” he licked his lips almost predatory as he sprinted toward the stairs, listening to your feet not far behind him-- it was all according to plan.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cerulean eyes held a barbaric gaze, wild grin plastered on his face as his long legs took strides toward the volcano head curse, that coward in fear from the mere sight of him. His pale cheeks stained with crimson blood and his breath was frantic from eradicating deformed humans. The plan of separating him from you failed, ultimately he had released his infinite void domain for a tenth of a second to rid of the nuisances that were Mahito’s doing.

“You crying?” Satoru snickered as he stepped closer to Jogo, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins; he felt like a god. His head tilted to the side in a mocking manner, dusting his blue blazer with a displeased look on his face, “I don’t take too kindly to being separated from my wife, you understand that… right, Jogo?”

Satoru had become fed up with the constant battle, the pathetic back and forth with curses that believed they could defeat him; he was a force to be reckoned with. As he stared at the trepidation in Jogo’s eyes; though it brought him satisfaction, he simply wanted to be at your side again to protect you. Reaching his large hand out, Saturo took a hold of Jogo’s arm, ripping the appendage off his body, a giggle escaping his lips. The curse let out a panicked yelp, trying his best to create distance between him and the six eyed sorcerer; he had to keep him busy for a few more minutes but it was starting to feel like an eternity to him. Being put against Satoru was pure misery for the volcano head.

He pushed through the crowd of frozen bodies that had been affected by his infinite void domain, finding joy in the chase. Jogo was quick on his feet but Satoru wasn’t too far behind, in his panic he found himself throwing balls of fire at the white haired man; bouncing off his limitless. Jogo knew it was a desperate attempt, that he would never be able to hit Gojo, his limitless too powerful.

Racing footsteps echoed throughout the lower level of the subway station, laughter bouncing off the walls; it sounded all too familiar to Jogo. His footsteps slowed down as the shadow of a figure danced along the wall, long blue hair flowing in the wind— Mahito appeared down the stairs, giggling like a maniac. The new presence halted Satoru the moment he laid eyes on you chasing after the patch face curse, your katana blazing an angry red.

His heart fluttered as relief washed over him; you were okay. His focus soon shifts towards you, the chase soon dispersing from his mind as Satoru’s feet quickly move in your direction; planning to shield you in the confinements of his limitless technique. It felt as though he had gone a lifetime separated from you, the worry had been gnawing at him. Yet he knew better, knew that you were capable of defending yourself in the face of danger, but it never made him worry any less.

Mahito raced toward Jogo, a smirk evident on his face, “Jogo, it’s time!” He exclaimed.

Milky hair came into your view, hand grasping your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His hold was firm as if to shield you from the world, hearing Mahito’s words was enough for the six eyes to sense a threat approaching. “Stay close to me.” Satoru instructed his jaw clenched tightly, you could only nod in response.

It was a late reaction as your eyes widened, feeling his firm body against yours; wanting to feel you close to him. Since the events that had perspired with Suguru a few years ago, Satoru kept you under lock and key like a guard dog protecting its home. It was rare for you to be out of his sight, never too far as the fear of losing you too stayed with him, sticking like gum. He requested the higher ups to keep you at Jujutsu High where you spent most of your days training the students and helping in the infirmary. While most of the teacher’s received missions often that required their attention, to keep you safe, he made sure you stayed busy at school. It was never that Satoru didn’t believe you to be capable of defending yourself or even that he doubted your abilities, he knew you were strong. But you were also the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if even a tiny scratch scathed your pretty skin.

Jogo followed Mahito, a loud whistle erupting from his lips as if he were signaling something or someone. Satoru’s arms tightened around your waist as a figure appeared in the distance, responding to Jogo. Your throat felt tight as the silence was deafening, the footsteps rang loudly in your ears, the air impossibly thick. Instinctually your hand reached Satoru’s blazer to grasp it tightly, afraid to be separated from him once more.

“Satoru and Name, been awhile.” The voice was gentle, a silky melody that made your hearts drop to your stomachs. You knew that voice anywhere.

As the figure approached from the shadows of the subway tunnel, long raven hair entered your peripheral vision. Your grip on Satoru tightened, a lump forming in your throat that it felt as though it was closing up your esophagus. The face of the lover you lost to the grim reaper a few years ago now stood in front of you. Memories of his limp body falling in your arms that nearly crushed you, your wails and screams filling every crevice of your mind. Suguru’s bloody face flashed before your eyes, bringing you back to the field of the school-- begging Satoru that it didn’t have to end this way. You blinked a few times as he approached, how was a dead man walking? You looked up at Satoru as if asking for reassurance that he too was seeing the same thing as you. His jaw was clenched, his face drained of any color, and his lip quivered slightly-- he saw him too. “You’re the one behind this?” You blurted, unable to halt the words from escaping.

Suguru smirked, he appeared to be looking around him with admiration at the chaos that the curses caused. His coffee eyes soon focused on the two of you, “I guess so,” he chuckled, he took a step closer, “Didn’t you miss me?”

Satoru dug his nails inside of his palm the longer he stared at Suguru. His features were the same as if he had never died, as if he never left his lovers. He gritted his teeth preparing his red technique, to muster the courage to do it all over again-- to end it, but he couldn’t, “My six eyes keep telling me it’s Suguru Geto, but my heart and soul know otherwise!” He hissed, the agony he felt evident in his voice.

“So observant.” He cooed. Suguru tossed a metal cube in front of you, using the shock of the situation to his advantage. The cube opened, quick to entrap your wrists and Satoru’s tightly like cuffs.

The raven haired man reached up and pulled at the stitches engraved in his forehead, pulling up his scalp to reveal Kenjaku, a curse that has the ability to use the victim's body as his own. “Someone was kind enough to leave this body for me.”

Kenjaku’s words confused you. Satoru had taken you to the crematorium after Suguru’s death, a place where they laid sorcerer's to rest. It was a small place just outside Kyoto, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Satoru had picked this crematorium for this reason. Suguru admired the pink color, the sweet aroma the flowers brought each season. At the time he picked an apartment with a cherry blossom tree in the backyard. Every spring he would pick the flowers to make mochi, sitting outside to delight in the sweet confection with the two of you. The cherry blossom tree held a special meaning for the both of you, it was Suguru.

The white haired man had taken you by the hand, leading you to a small koi pond. A marble tombstone with Suguru’s name had come into view, a few flowers already scattered on his grave. You reached out your fingertips to trace his name, tears rolling down your face as the reality had finally set in that he was gone. You remember setting down his favorite tea and Cherry blossom mochi that you and Satoru had stayed up all night to make that wasn’t nearly as good as his. It never made sense to you as to why your husband never allowed you to have an urn with Suguru’s ashes. You had begged him, pleaded with him to let you have that last piece of him but Satoru insisted he’d be better off somewhere lovely. His ashes were placed in the ground that would one day make a cherry blossom tree.

As he stood here now, you realized Satoru had never gotten rid of Suguru’s body. That when he had instructed Shoko to take him to get cremated it had never happened. The grave you had spent hours at, talking to him, dropping him gifts-- it was empty. “What?” You choked, your eyes immediately falling on your snowy haired lover.

Satoru avoided your gaze, dropping his head to the ground ashamed that a secret he had held onto for so long had finally come to light. He had planned to tell you one day, but as time passed and visits to Suguru’s ‘grave’ became more frequent-- he couldn’t. Kenjaku tsked, “What a pity, it was quite simple to retrieve this body. Surprised you would be so weak to not tell her.”

You winced at his mocking tone, each word stung deeper than a knife. Satoru had lied to you, kept you away from resurrecting the man you each had spent decades loving. You understood Suguru’s values would never match up to your own, that his existence alone was a threat to human society, and yet, none of it mattered. The love you held in your heart for him was much greater than the mistakes he had made, than the lives he had taken. You could never see him as a monster, Suguru had always been misunderstood. “Sato-”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “How much longer are you going to let it control you, Suguru?!” Satoru called out.

Suguru’s hand began to twitch, his hand lunging forward at his own throat causing Kenjaku to laugh in amusement, “I’ve never had a body fight back before. How entertaining.”

“You’re one of the strongest, don’t let it consume you, Sugu.” You added, his hand doing anything it can to choke the curse living inside of him.

Kenjaku laughed, peeling each finger off his neck with brute force, “Times up.” The cube that had surrounded you and Satoru slowly began to close, muffling the sounds of the outside world as it entrapped you inside its prison-- each surrounding going black.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊��✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The prison realm was compact, reeking of death from the various skeletons from past prisoners that surrounded you. The bones made for an uncomfortable mattress, Satoru had laid you on top of his body to provide you some form of cushion. It was silent in the metal box that imprisoned you compared to the noisy outside world that continued with or without you, it was a bleak thought. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress your tears, the last thing you wanted was to be near him. Your heart felt heavy in your chest almost like a fifty pound weight rested there, it ached an agonizing pain that you could barely ignore it.

Satoru’s heart steadily beat against your ear, the only other sound that could be heard besides his breaths. He held you tightly, his arm around your waist and the other moved from your hair to infront of your eyes, obscuring your vision to total darkness, “Don’t think.” He murmured.

Your lips quivered, his words setting off each emotion you felt deeply, a choked sob raking your body. A few of your tears touched the palm of his hand, Satoru’s heart stung the more you gripped his hand, whimpering like an injured puppy. It pained him to see the damage his actions had caused, he swore to himself that he would tell you the truth on Suguru’s birthday. The day you had tirelessly baked a chocolate cake for hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect it just for him. Dolling yourself up in the mirror, that day you made sure to wear Suguru’s favorite dress that he had bought for you, a white one that made you appear like an angel sent from above. When you sat at his tombstone with balloons, cake, and sunflowers, lighting up candles on the cake as you and Satoru sang him happy birthday. He promised then that he would tell you, but he never did.

He kissed the top of your head, holding his hand still over your teary eyes, providing the only darkness he knew would calm you down. It was his form of silencing the world around you, allowing you to focus on the atmosphere around you-- acknowledging each emotion you felt that you often failed to discern. “Don’t think, just focus.” Satoru instructed once more.

Another wail left your lips that caused him to wince, holding you tighter as he buried his face in your hair. A tear slid down his face as he listened to you cry, he hated himself for the agony he had caused you. Holding his wrist tighter to keep his hand as a blind fold you listened to the quiet atmosphere around you, that stench of death that made your stomach churn reminding you of the prison you were in. Trying to grasp at the emotions that overwhelmed you, “How could you do this to me?” You choked out.

Nuzzling his cheek against your hair, you could feel the wetness-- he was crying. Satoru held onto you as his life depended on it, petrified that if he let go that you would disappear and leave him alone in this cruel world. The person he loved with his entire being, the one he would sacrifice his own life for in a heartbeat because you were absolutely everything to him. He felt like an idiot for lying to you, the truth always came out, he was a fool for believing otherwise, “Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Satoru croaked, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you but I…”

“Decided to be selfish and lie to me instead?”

“Name-”

“No, you thought I’d be reckless and bring him back,” You shoved his hand away, sitting up on him, “Didn’t you?”

Your face was flushed, sticky with tears that persisted on falling from your eyes. Your chest heaving up and down, a clear indication that you were furious at him. Satoru sat up, averting his gaze from those pretty sad eyes of yours-- he felt sick. “Look at me!” You pleaded, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at the hurt he caused.

He placed his hands on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he found the strength to muster words, “I did.”

You dropped your hand from his chin, dropping your gaze to his abdomen as you frantically wiped at your tears. He doubted you, but was he wrong? His death had affected you gravely that it took months to cope, even now you still struggled on certain days. Suguru’s birthday was the hardest date to get by, alongside the day he passed, those days you wore his clothes that had already lost his scent. You drank his favorite tea even if you preferred coffee, you just wanted to feel close to him again. Satoru clung onto you those days, he sought after your comfort-- as you did his. It was silent around your home for long periods of time, embracing each other tightly to communicate how much you missed him, to remind one another that you were still here.

Suguru’s spot in bed remained untouched, a cold spot that reminded you of the once warm body that lay there. His things never left your house, not even after you and Satoru moved to a new home, there was always a piece of him there. Thinking now, if Satoru had told you that Shoko stored his body somewhere safe you would have spent days, even months searching for it-- you’d bring him back. You had been blessed with the ability to bring those back from the dead, it didn't matter how long they were gone, if the body was well preserved you could bring them back. Playing with death would have its consequences someday, but you would have risked it for Suguru. Your husband wasn’t wrong to hide the truth from you, you couldn’t let Suguru go.

“I would have.” You chuckled bitterly, resting your forehead against Satoru’s, “I still would.”

His hand cupped your cheek, gently wiping away the fat tears that cascaded down your face, “I know.”

“I miss him, Toru.”

“Me too, baby.”

You stared up at the black sky, Kenjaku now had Suguru’s body. It was a harsh reality. While he created chaos as your deceased lover, you were locked away in a box, hoping to be rescued by the other sorcerers. The time of when you’d be free from this hell wasn’t certain nor was it definite, you relied on those outside to save you; you had faith. Once freed, it was inevitable that Satoru would fight against Kenjaku, face the reality of hurting Suguru’s body once more-- something he hadn’t forgiven himself for. “I can bring him back, once we get out… I can bring Sugu back.” You blurted.

Satoru sucked in a breath at your words, it had never left your mind to bring him back. He knew you still thought of the days where it was just the three of you, he did too. The six eyes craved to have his old life back where the raven haired man was in the picture, his gentle smile, his soft voice-- he missed it all. It sounded like a dream come true to have that life back, perhaps the old Suguru would return, at least that’s what he told himself.

His silence was deafening, “Please,” You choked, more tears fell from your eyes, “Please let me bring him back, Toru. We can eat mochi under cherry blossom trees again, just like we used to. You can drag us out of bed on snow days and I won’t complain, I promise. Then he’ll scold you for eating too many sweets and for buying candy behind his back. Please… I-” Your head fell against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, pleading with him over and over again.

He buried his face in your hair once more, holding the back of your head with his hand, gently rocking your bodies together. Satoru wanted that fantasy life more than anything, your promises sounded like honey. It was a life that had once been reality before Suguru disappeared to pursue his own ideals, a life that remained cherished. Satoru cried with you, biting his lip to suppress his whimpers; he knew better. Suguru had changed, too stuck in his ways, his values so engraved in his brain that it was impossible to persuade him differently. His own lovers couldn’t stray him from the society he saw fit, Suguru would return to his old ways-- Satoru would let him, neither of you would deny him that anymore and that terrified him. “We can’t.” His voice weak, the words struggled to come out almost as if he didn’t believe what he was telling you.

Your body shook with each sob that left your lips, each tear staining his navy blazer. Your husband held you tighter, silence loomed overhead as you both cried. In the end the both of you knew that your love for Suguru remained, neither of you have stopped grieving him. “I can’t let him go.” You rasped.

It was Satoru’s turn to sob, cradling your head in his hand. The rocking of your bodies pacified the emotions from causing anxiety, his body was warm— a big protective blanket that you found yourself sinking into further. A sharp pang spread through his heart as he reminisced on the past. It would be selfish to bring him back, to turn the world upside down as Satoru and you finally stood by him. He couldn’t let him go either.

Pulling back from the hug, Satoru cupped his hands on both of your cheeks, he was a selfish man. Two selfish lovers disregarding the pain of the innocent for a love unforgotten.

He had lived for others, sacrificed himself for the greater good. Satoru constantly fought tooth and nail to protect the weak, constantly worrying about you because the weak could not control their cursed energy— curses would continue to be born. But they were only human. The guilt was gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraled out of control the more he looked at his precious wife. Suguru was right, it was your turn to be happy.

“Okay, once we get out of here… let’s get our Sugu back, angel.”

Maybe it was selfish, but neither of you cared anymore. The decision had been made. When the prison realm freed you, and the battle became a gruesome bloody mess. With Kenjaku ripped from Suguru’s body, you did the only thing you knew— resurrect the man that held onto your hearts after all these years.

As he wrapped his arms around you both, holding you close. The smell of cedar wood and jasmine enveloped you like he never left, he held your dizzying body tightly that felt exhausted after using up your cursed energy for the day. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish, the long lost lover had returned, never to be separated from either of you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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hentyehottie · 9 months

Text

Oh nothing, just thinkin about a cute, chubby little babe whose new fav hobby is baking. Do you like sweets? Sure, but that’s not why you started.

No, it was the look on your husband’s face whenever you’d go to the bakery to pick up fresh bread. He’d stare at the dessert case like a kid in a candy store, begging you to let him get one as if he wasn’t a grown man making his own salary and now he makes that same face whenever you offer him first pick of your own delicious, freshly baked pastries.

This time is no different, you hear the click of the front door shutting, he’s walking into your quaint little kitchen with a news paper tucked in his axillary and his briefcase in hand. He’s dropping his case near the threshold and tossing the paper onto the table, footing over to you and placing an earnest kiss on your lips before flipping on the sink’s faucet to wash his hands.

Your husband is old fashioned, no social life and not many hobbies due to his demanding work schedule. He says you’re too pretty to work a job so he works six days a week, every single week, in order to give you your soft life.

You carry not a worry in the world except whether or not you may have over starched his jeans or added too much salt in your latest confection. Of course these little desserts and things don’t equate to all that he does but it’s literally the least you can do to thank him. He swears he doesn’t deserve it, coming home to your love and a hot meal everyday is more than enough but you tell him otherwise every single time.

“Made ya somethin.”

He’s drying his hands with a dish towel, turning around to see what delectable treat you’ve gone out of your way to make for him today.

Bright eyes lighting up as you present him with a display tray of heart shaped puff pastries, lightly dusted with powdered sugar, split down the middle and filled with a tall dollop of a blush-pink colored cream. He’s pulling the chair out, pulling up the legs of his trousers and plopping down in the seat, his legs spread wide. Today was long, or at least it felt long, but even a second away from you is just too damn long. But, it’s over and now he gets to indulge in a sweet treat and hopefully his sweet wife later on.

He goes to grab one and his pinky finger catches some of the cream from another, those big hands of his are never really ideal when it comes to grabbing such delicate, tiny things. He admired your creation, from the flaky layers of the puff pastry to the little specks of red littered throughout the cream.

“Strawberry cream?”

“Mhm.”

He’s so attentive, it melts your lil heart. “But they’re not in season.”

“I got the freeze dried ones from the store and a tiny bit of strawberry flavoring. Tastes just as good, I promise.” It tastes the same to you, but who knows if it’d taste good to him, his favorite fruit is strawberries after all.

He goes in for his first bite and he’s not surprised when a tiny little bit of the cream oozes out and plops onto his white collared shirt—some of your pastries do tend to get messy sometimes, his face and his laundry have come to find out.

But it’s no big deal, he just swipes it up with that same pinky & sucks it off like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He let’s out the sweetest groan—one that has his cute little wife squeezing her thighs together, trying to keep your cool as you wait for him to finish.

“Damn that’s tasty.”

“Yeah?” You gush, the way he closes his eyes and tosses his head back has you damn near squealing.

“Mhm, but everything you make is delicious.”

Gosh, when he gives you that dazzling smile you almost melt. You rarely ever heard your husband swear, at least not outside of the bedroom, and you have to admit it’s so damn sexy.

“Reallyyyy?” You drag.

“Yeahhhh.” He mocks your tone, free hand gently grasping your jaw to pull you in for another quick kiss.

Two bites. Two bites is all it takes for him to finish the dainty little pastry before he’s reaching for another.

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head when you pop his hand and push the tray away.

“You’ll ruin your dinner.”

He’s not sure what you’re cooking, maybe a roast or stew and it smells hearty and delicious. He’s sure one more little cream puff won’t ruin his appetite.

“Babyyy.” Here he goes with the damned whining. “Just one more.”

He pulls you closer by the hem of your pretty pink gingham lace trimmed apron, the scraping of the chair’s legs against the wooden flooring harsh and loud as he pushes back to give you some room. A pat of his thigh has you raising your leg, throwing it over both of his and straddling his lap.

“I just wanted you to try one! You can have more for dessert after dinner.”

“I tried it and I liked it. I want another.”

It’s a little while before you feel it—him moving his hips back and forth, grinding the hard bulge in his slacks against your panty-covered cunt. He thinks he’s sooo slick, giving you those eyes, that look—you know the one.

“Please baby, you don’t mind dessert before dinner when it’s you I’m eating, let’s keep things fair, my love.”

Your mouth goes ajar for a quick second, opening and closing in speechlessness before a heavy gasp escapes. You don’t have a comeback and your adorable little pout is no match for his fiery gaze and quick tongue, determined to get his second treat. You’re folding almost immediately, sighing as you reach back to grab another cream puff.

“Okay, but only one more.”

This is soooo Rengoku coded but you can insert any of your favs really 😁

*this wasn’t even supposed to be this long 😭

#black reader #black fem reader #anime x black!reader #black!reader #black coded reader #black!y/n #demon slayer x black reader #kny x black reader #mha x black reader #black coded #black!fem!reader #aot x black reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x black reader #kyojuro x black reader #HentyeHottie🌸

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acerathia · 3 months

Text

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin.

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill.

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry.

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen.

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life.

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up.

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure.

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room.

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin.

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was.

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon.

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table.

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way.

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast.

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours.

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room.

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions.

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying.

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace.

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned.

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy.

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace.

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up.

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door.

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan, asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl.

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly.

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands.

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use.

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy.

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one.

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you.

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person.

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest.

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through.

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero.

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship.

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless.

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim.

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight.

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death.

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight.

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails.

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends.

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face.

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed.

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her.

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade.

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this?

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away.

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry.

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this?

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks.

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur.

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it.

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all.

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching.

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions.

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up.

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile.

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation.

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you

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oe6 · 10 months

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@yosweetiee on ig

#food #candy #candycore #sugar #sweet #dessert #confection #tasty #yummy #delicious #foodblr

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rosesloveletters · 4 months

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Hello!! 🥰 I’m about to go on a full on mushy gushy love letter to you about my love for your blog, your writing, Willy Wonka, and Gene Wilder so bear with me pls🥺

I’m also a fellow 2023 Willy Wonka + Gene Wilder lover and I gotta say, I am just so happy and thankful that I found your lovely and beautiful blog💕. The 1971 movie was always so precious to me, and the ending of it always brings me a warmth sense of comfort no other movie has given me (the scene when he talks to Charlie about how he will pass down the factory to him, how he always wanted a child to take on his factory bc they were so pure, especially Charlie🥺😭 the whole scene makes me cry, I love that movie so much)🩷

So a couple weeks ago after watching it, I started looking through tumblr, which is where I go to look for great fandom content, and lo and behold, I found your BEAUTIFUL Gene!WonkaxReader fics 🥰🩷💖 I fell in love, I am just so happy I found your blog!!

It makes me so happy to see other beautiful people celebrating their love for Wonka, especially Gene’s🥺💖 The way you write him so romantically makes me blush and swoon every time. He really is the man of my dreams☁️. Gene Wilder’s Wonka is my definitive Wonka, I’m so in love with him, so the fact that your fics are specifically for Gene’s Wonka makes it so perfect 😍 not only am totally in love with Willy, I have strong romantic feelings for Gene (heck I’ve been watching his other movies too, that’s how much I’ve been loving that beautiful man). It’s the way Gene speaks so gently and softly that it makes your heart beat a million times. It’s the way he has this charisma that shines bright and holds so much confidence, that it makes his so attractive🥰 it’s the way he is breathtaking is every way imaginable, inside and outside. it’s the way he looks so lovely with his bright baby blue eyes, his pretty curly hair, his strong capable hands, the way he is with kids (ie Charlie) his bright intelligence that brought happiness to the world in the way of tasty confections that everyone in the world enjoys 🥺🍫🍬🍭 GENE…. oh that man was such a romantic dreamboat in his life time… 😍🥰💓 he’s the perfect (and only) Wonka in my book 🩵🫶🏼

Overall, I’m having such a fun time this holiday season loving Willy Wonka and Gene Wilder, so it makes me feel so happy to see you and other people feel the same way🥺 I’m loving your fics so I’m excited to read any future works you have in store for the future! You’ve inspired me to makes some of my own things, including a Gene Wonka playlist I’ll share with you soon🥰 so thank you for everything🥺🍭💓

I love you, be safe, and I love your blog and your work!!!🫶🏼💕🩵🩷💕💜🍬🍭🍫

Hello, oh my goodness, what a sweet, heartfelt, loving and sentimental message🥰 This was such a delight to read, thank you for sending this to me and I'm honored to have such sweet words shared with me about this lovely gentleman.

I completely and wholeheartedly agree with everything you've said!

I also adore the scene where Wonka explains to Charlie that he wants him to run his factory someday, it is such a sweet, wholesome moment between these two. I always tear up a little during that scene; it's adorable to watch Wonka be so gentle towards Charlie. One of my favorite bits is when Wonka pretends not to know where the button is on his own machine (he invented it -- of course he knows where the button is!) so that Charlie could get involved and point it out to him.

Thank you so very much for your love on my fics and my blog🥺🩷 It means a whole lot to me that others are enjoying my writing, especially since I was uncertain how popular they would be since this seems to be a very small, niche fanbase. Tumblr really is a great place to search for all kinds of different fan-made content and is my go-to as well🥰

To know that this film is so beloved and so special to so many people warms my heart.

I was shocked to see so much love for Gene's interpretation of Willy Wonka, mainly because there are so many different versions of the character and therefore there's a lot of differing opinions out there, but it seems to be that Gene is the most recognizable out of all of them, at least from what I've seen.

Gene's Wonka is such a delight and he makes my heart beat a little faster every time I see him. It's so sweet to listen to you gush about him; your love for him is so beautiful🥺💖 Gene himself is very wonderful, I agree with you entirely! Ooh you've seen some of his other films!! Which ones have you seen? His filmography is quite interesting from what I've seen so far and I think he likes giving his audience a good laugh. His line delivery is the best!!

I am so happy to hear you mention his gentle voice🥺🥺 He always talks so softly and it makes the listener hang onto every word that comes out of his mouth. Every way in which you describe Gene is so gorgeous and accurate -- your love for him shines through with every word you've written and I love hearing you speak about all the reasons why you love him. I think he would be honored to know he has fans as kind and as sweet and as loving as you who are keeping his memory alive in such a positive way.

His charisma and charm and confidence are very attractive, as well as his physical attributes: the blue eyes which look like shining galaxies, his frizzy hair, his capable, dexterous hands, his big nose. Ugh. He's like a dream.

I am certain that he was a very lovely human and that it must've been a delight to be in his presence.

I totally agree with you: he is the only Wonka I'll ever need. 💜💕

I am so happy to hear that you're having a lovely holiday season loving on Willy Wonka and Gene Wilder. I think that is a wonderful way to spend the end of the year and I hope that you continue to enjoy it. It is definitely such a wonderful feeling to know that others feel the same way and that yours and others love for him runs this deep.

Thank you so very much for sharing all of this love with me, it's been so amazing to get to chat with another person who also loves Gene and his portrayal of Willy Wonka🥺🍫💜🍭 It is such an honor to hear that I have inspired you to make some of your own things too! That is so exciting and yes, please definitely share with me the playlist and/or anything else that you make for Gene/Wonka, if you feel comfortable. I would ADORE seeing anything that you make🥰🫶🏼💓

I will definitely be posting more Wonka (and some other of Gene's roles👀) fics in the future and I hope that you enjoy them 🫶🏼💕 Thank you for all of your kindness and for sending so much love to me. Your love for Willy Wonka and Gene Wilder is so beautiful to witness.

I love you too, take care of yourself and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season (if you celebrate.) Give yourself lots of kindness and indulge in the things that bring you joy and happiness. I hope the New Year brings you many good things💜🍭🫶🏼🥰🩷💕

and those are such gorgeous pictures omggg look at him🥺🩷💕

#mail :: 📬#love letters :: 💌#willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #gene wilder

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