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swordsandholly · 7 days

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Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

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d1xonss · 3 months

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heyyy went thru all your masterlist (reader one) and fell inlove with your fics i was wondering if you can write something like grumpy!daryl x sunshine!reader ykwim? like they complete eachother (::

Sunshine

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 10

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2.1k

AN ~ Ahhh thank you so much for reading, it truly means so much! I’m always down to write this type of stuff, I think it’s so cute:)) I appreciate the request and hope you enjoy! ps- I thought this was a super cute thing to post for Valentine's Day💋

It was quiet, peaceful inside your home as you busied yourself around the space. It was a nice hot summer day, and you felt quite accomplished with the amount of things you had gotten done in just the span of a few hours. You tended to your garden full of colorful flowers, made a trip to the pantry to pick up a few things you were running low on, cleaned and tidied up the house, the list really went on and on. But the truth was you loved doing things like this, it almost tricked you into believing that life outside the gates was normal again. Even though you knew it wasn’t, it was still nice to pretend from time to time.

Currently, you busied yourself with making some of your famous homemade brownies, something you found you hadn’t made in quite some time. With everything going on lately, it was hard to find the time to do the things you loved most, which was in fact, to bake. But now that everything had died down for the most part, you quickly hopped back onto the opportunity. Whether it was cake, cookies, or some kind of bread, you always found life to be a little bit better with something sweet.

But you weren’t just making these brownies for yourself, in fact, whenever you whipped something up it was never just for you. It was also for your husband Daryl whom you adored more than anything else in this world, the man constantly making you happier with each passing day. And he loved you just as much if not more, and he especially loved being your taste tester whenever you tried out a new recipe. The first time you had called him that, he just scoffed and shook his head as if what you said was something stupid. But you could see that small smirk he had on his face afterwards, silently telling you that he actually loved the little job you assigned, though he would never admit it out loud.

You hummed to yourself quietly as you began to mix the dry and wet ingredients together, swaying your hips a little to the soft song playing in the background. Recently you had found a record player on a run and you were over the moon excited to use it, missing music from the world before. And although you hadn’t found the best records in the world to listen to, you thought almost anything was better than the quiet. The most you had found were a few country albums which weren't in your top favorite genres for sure, but you had to admit it was growing on you the smallest bit. With the way you danced along, it was hard to deny.

Your head then suddenly snapped up when you heard the sound of the front door opening, a smile being brought to your face as you already knew who it was. He was a little loud upon entering your shared house, dropping his crossbow on the table with a loud smack, huffing and puffing as he entered the living room without a word. Your smile dropped a little, usually he would call out to you to announce that he was home, but clearly today was not one of those days. He was in a mood, and you knew you would have to cheer him up.

Although Daryl was perfect to you in every way, he was a pretty grumpy man from time to time when things didn’t work out or go the way he planned. The littlest things could completely ruin his demeanor for the rest of the day at times. He would hold onto it, rant about it constantly while it was on his mind, even though most of the time it was something that he couldn’t change. But you assumed that’s what frustrated him the most. And this was no different, hearing him sigh heavily in the other room as he plopped down on the sofa.

But the best thing about you, was that at the end of the day, you always found a way to make him feel better.

You discarded the mixing spoon that was in your hand, moving out of the kitchen and towards the living room in an attempt to see what was bothering him. But once you caught sight of him whilst lingering in the doorway of the space, you sighed quietly upon seeing how he held his face in his hands, slumped over the side of the couch. You could tell he was irritated and that something had happened today while he was out, but it was nothing that you couldn’t fix. And you figured the brownies would help too.

So you finally pushed yourself forward to enter the room, softly sitting down next to him as you raised your hand up to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Hi sweetie.” you greeted softly.

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t even raise his head up to look you in the eye. The most he did was grunt, and even you didn’t know in that moment if it was directed towards you or not.

You eyed him for a moment before speaking again, “How was your day?” you asked gently while rubbing his shoulder up and down now.

Still nothing. Damn he was a tough one to crack today. But you knew he couldn’t resist you for very long, even if today was the worst day of his life, he always came around for you. Always.

Upon not getting a verbal response, you leaned further into him and began to trail a few quick kisses on the side of his head, to which he scoffed and scooted away from. “Come on woman, m’ not in the mood.” he grumbled as he finally looked up from the floor.

“He speaks.” you said as you raised your hands up in victory, your actions causing him to scoff with a roll of his eyes. Acting as if you were the dramatic one here. “What happened?” you asked with a tilted head.

He blew out a breath of air, “Nothin.”

“Mhm…” you trailed off sarcastically with a nod, “Nothing…”

He was silent for a long moment, nearly minutes passing by, before he blew another harsh breath out as he leaned back against the couch. “We lost all those damn supplies on that run we took today, walkers just came outta nowhere and we didn’t have time to stick around. Negan’s getting on my fuckin nerves all the damn time, spittin out the same bullshit I’ve heard a hundred fuckin times before. And my bike broke down on the way back, don’t even know if I can fix it.”

If someone was looking at this from an outside perspective, seeing the amount he just unleashed while you sat there with a small smile on your face, their jaw would probably be on the floor. How you hardly reacted at all, how he was so harsh with the way he spoke, you were sure it would look questionable to anyone who didn’t truly know the two of you, or your dynamic. But the truth was, you had heard this similar song and dance about a hundred different times before, knowing he just needed to get everything off his chest and blow off some steam. And you knew after saying it all out loud, along with a little comfort, he would see that everything would be alright in the end.

Your lip stuck out in a pout as you looked at him, “Oh, my poor baby.” you said dramatically as you pulled him back into you, placing your lips on his cheek to kiss him there multiple times as he let out a heavy and annoyed sigh.

“Stop.” he protested, yet made no attempts to pull away from your affection. In fact, you swore you almost felt him lean in further.

You giggled against his skin as you pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” you spoke seriously now as you stroked the side of his face, “But it’ll be okay…everything will work itself out.”

He scoffed quietly at your words, “Ya always say that.”

“And I’m always right.” you said as you leaned in to place another kiss on his cheek, “Remember when you came back from a hunt that one time with nothing, and you were all grumpy about it? What happened the next day?”

He glanced over to you for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, “Found three deers…” he grumbled.

“Right.” you said as you moved to give his arm a soft squeeze, “You worry way too much over this kind of stuff, just breathe. Relax. It’s all going to be fine.”

His expression softened drastically after you talked to him, kind and gentle as always, wordlessly leaning into you and wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tight. You laughed lightly as you hugged him back, stroking the back of his hair soothingly as you felt him exhale deeply. Taking a breath like you advised.

“M’ sorry.” he muttered suddenly after a few moments of silence.

Your brows furrowed a little in confusion, “For what, honey?”

“For dumpin this shit on ya all the time…” he clarified as he squeezed you tighter, “Ya don’t deserve that…hearin me bitch-”

“Hey.” you cut him off as you pulled away, taking his face in your hands, “That’s what I’m here for, to listen. I’m honored to be the one you go to when you need to rant about something, and I’m even more honored that I’m the one who gets to make you feel better. That’s certainly not something to be sorry for, okay?”

His lip turned up in a small smile as he took your hands from his face, kissing your palm lightly as he looked at you with soft eyes, “I don’t deserve ya.”

You shushed him instantly with a shake of your head, “Yes you do.” you assured, before your mind trailed off a little in realization which caused a small smile to form on your face, “But…I do think I have something else that’ll make you feel better. Maybe even better than I can.”

He scoffed with a growing smile, “Well, I highly doubt that…but go on…” he said as his interest clearly piqued.

“Well…I just so happen to have some brownie batter in the kitchen with your name on it.” you said as you raised your eyebrows.

His eyes widened the smallest bit in clear excitement before glancing out the doorway, clearly itching to rush into the kitchen now, “Ya haven’t even baked em yet..?”

You shook your head with a smile, “Nope…I’ll even let you lick the spoon.” you said, knowing that was his favorite part.

His smile only grew then as there seemed to be a sparkle in his eye, like a kid in a giant candy store. The two of you then ventured back toward the kitchen where the music was still playing softly, getting the batter ready to be put into the pan to bake. But of course, he took the spoon from you almost instantly when you were done using it, licking the entire thing completely clean as if he couldn’t get enough. Though he felt he had to tease you just a little bit, taking a small dollop from the utensil on his finger before bringing it to the tip of your nose with a “boop.”

You knew then and there that his mind was far from the events earlier that day, now enjoying his time he had with you as he looked at you as if you were a bright ball of sunshine after a rainy day. The sunshine that he desperately needed in his life.

But then the time came. The oven had beeped and you had pulled the brownies out of the oven to cool before cutting them, topping it off with some powdered sugar before your taste tester gave his honest feedback. He took a corner piece, which were his favorite, and took a large bite of the chocolate goodness while you looked at him in anticipation.

“Well..?”

He said nothing, his eyes rolled back and a groan left his lips as he savored the sweetness on his tongue, and that was the only answer you needed. You smiled brightly as you clapped to yourself, his signs of approval proving that you were only getting better with the hobby you loved to do.

“Dunno how ya do it,” he commented before shoving the rest of the brownie in his mouth, “They just get better and better.” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled proudly as you began to grab a piece for yourself, “Well it’s a good thing I have my taste tester to give me all the feedback I need.”

Normally he would roll his eyes at the continuous nickname you bestowed upon him, but not today. He only smiled with a nod, bringing you in to leave a dramatic kiss on your cheek, pulling away with a loud “muah.”

“I’ll always be here ta taste whatever ya want sunshine.” he promised.

And you believed him completely.

~ Thanks for reading!

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lex-the-flex · 5 months

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Snow Being Your Taste-Tester

The chaos in preparation for Reaping Day filled Coriolanus with an uncomfortable amount of dread. So much that when the agonizingly long week seemed to drag on for far too long, he needed to find an escape.

And his escape was in the heart of Panem inside a little bakery.

Opening the oven, the scent of your freshly baked bread filled your tiny bakery with a warm and welcoming feeling. Breathing in the fresh sensation, you watch the hot steam rise from the loaves of your medium sized sourdough bread. Carefully setting the tray on a wooden board, you started to fan the bread to cool when the bell above the entry door jingled, alerting you that a new guest had come in.

Walking to the counter, your face lit up as you turned to see Coriolanus Snow standing in your shop.

“Coryo! I didn’t expect to see you today." You said, walking around to give him a hug.

Returning the embrace, he places his chin on the top of your head before swaying the two of you back and forth.

"I know I was supposed to be here tomorrow, but I had to get out of the Academy. All the professors and Dean Highbottom are starting to drive me crazy. Reaping Day is only two weeks away and I desperately needed a break." He explains, rubbing your arms.

"I'm sorry, Coryo. I can't imagine the stress you're going through right now. How do you think I feel? I've been trying the new recipes that Clem recommended, but they're taking forever." You reply.

Pinching each of the sourdough loaves, you silently start to prepare them for the display case, only realizing that you baked one too many.

"Hey, would you like to try the sourdough? It's a new recipe, but it doesn't taste all that different to me. I can give you some honey with it." You say, placing the loaf on a separate cutting board.

"I'd love to, Y/N. I'll try anything you make." Coriolanus answers, leaning on the counter.

Smiling, you cut him a thin slice before topping it with a little drizzle of honey and a piece of your leftover Swiss cheese. Taking a big bite, the crust is crispy and Coriolanus practically collapses against the counter.

"Oh my God, Y/N! You've done it. This is the best piece of bread I've ever had in my life and I've eaten a lot of horrible bread." Coriolanus compliments.

"Aw, thank you Coryo. That means so much. Well, consider yourself my official taste-tester!" You beam, watching your friend devour the rest of his snack.

snow taglist ~

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@caffess

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@wetsandpaperroll

@aemvnd

@ghostfacd

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@motley-baby

@nctizen1270

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@ntlmundy

#coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow headcanon #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

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kentosbabes · 1 year

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Cooking date night with Nanami

Nanami who scrolls through possible recipes on his phone for hours until he finds the perfect one for your dinner date night. When he does he's sending it straight to you 'What about spaghetti love?' and with a 'sounds perfect' from you, he's out at the shops buying all the ingredients and heading home.

Nanami who rushes home and cant wait to unwind with you after a long day. your already getting started on the meatballs with ingredients you already had when he's walking in with a shopping bag.

Nanami who also brought some of your favourite snacks and expensive wine for your date night. 'Kento that's so sweet of you' you say giving in a quick kiss before going back to making the meatballs. He would hate to show you how much he's blushing 'Uh um I'm going to go get change and I'll come back and help with the sauce.' he mumbles rushing off to your bedroom.

Nanami who gets distracted while looking at how you move your hips along with the song playing as you take the lid off the chopped tomatoes. Of course that means he forgets he's pouring chilly flakes into the source 'Kento that's way too much!' You say taking the chilly flakes away from him looking at practically half the bottle emptied out in the sauce.

Nanami who hugs you from behind as you try and fix the sauce. He sways against you to the music trying to relax your form your stressed state by peppering you with kisses.

Nanami who sets the table with sophisticated cutlery and bowls as you bring over the large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs and a plate with garlic bread. He makes sure to pull out your chair for you as you sit down and pours you a glass of wine.

Nanami who cant stop complimenting your cooking skills. 'I love when you cook, it tastes so much better then when I do it', 'your so perfect' as he twirls his pasta before eating it.

Nanami who loves how sexy you look in your silk pajamas with your hair in a bun and your glasses on as you sip on your wine. His leg finding its way in between yours as he tries to smoothly get his knee to reach your core.

Nanami who smirks as you roll your eyes knowing how this ends up. So you get up and take the dishes away in order to escape his antics but it only makes it easier for him. Pulling you into his lap when you come back and fingering you 'I can't wait to make you my little house wife', 'your so good to me doll'.

Nanami who tells you to sit down while he finishes up the cleaning as you talk to him about your day. 'you just sit there and look pretty for me yeah, I've got this.'

Nanami who can't stop thinking about marrying you and coming home to the smell of you cooking as you dance around the kitchen. He makes sure to spoil you for the rest of the evening after the chilly insident.

Nanami who enjoys having his desert spread out on his bed as he licks and sucks up and down your folds watching as your squirm underneath him.

Nanami who goes to sleep with you in his arms thinking about having a quiet and simple domestic life with you.

Masterlist

#nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento drabble #nanami kento headcanons #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #i want him so bad #kento marry me #im on my knees

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honeesucker · 11 months

Text

Heart-Shaped Castella

Pairing: Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum) x Fem!Reader | NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5,466

Content Warnings: a single-use of a food word in lieu of a curse word, absolute cavity-inducing softness, size difference / size kink, reader has a molecular quirk that allows her to stretch doughs... and other things, Fatgum is a little obsessive but in a sweet new crush kind of way, descriptions of villain attack, brief mention of blood (dried) and injuries (minor), p in v sex, pussy eating, aftercare softness.

*For @frostthecupcake ‘s RomCom collab! 💐

Click here for the rest of the collab! ♡

The gentle breeze that drifted in through the open transom windows of your bakery helped to alleviate the humid warmth from your ovens and sent a delicious waft of your freshly baked pastries out onto the street. You had your headphones in, not worried about customers walking in this late as it was past your operating hours, and you were just catching up on baking for the next day so you could sleep in a little more. You were dancing, the gentle sway of your hips gliding you around the kitchen as you put on oven mitts and took some fresh, sweet seasonal-flavored breads from the oven before sliding them onto a cooling rack before turning back to a new icing recipe you were monitoring. Outside on the street, Fatgum was making his way back to the agency to wrap up some reports from an earlier incident, having already sent his sidekicks home to rest. The sweetest scent hit him like a bullet train and brought him to a dead stop in the center of the sidewalk as hie eyes scanned around him. He had walked this road many times before, in fact this was his most used route back to the agency, and back to his home because of how many restaurants and shops line the streets... and he can’t remember ever smelling something like this.

Fatgum’s eyes scanned around the familiar line of street vendors, open shops, restaurants and other assortment of buzzing businesses until his eyes caught sight of something he had never had the chance to catch open. A bakery, Flake & Crumble, had always been closed when he was walking to the agency in the morning hours, and closed when he was trudging home or back to the agency into the late night... this was like a golden opportunity shining brightly in his face, and wafting into his nose. He made his way to the tall glass doors before pushing one open with a melodic ding! before noticing no one was around, no one at the counter to greet customers, and no... customers? Fatgum felt a little out of place, wondering if the shop was truly open like it seemed before the sound of gentle hums and someone singing pieces of a song from the back.

Curiosity piqued, Fatgum followed the sound of the humming. His steps cautious as he navigated through the neatly organized bakery, careful in his current form not to carelessly knock anything over in the tight spaces. As he rounded the corner into the back, the sweet aroma enveloped him, intensifying with each passing moment. He couldn't help but let out a contented sigh, feeling his mouth water with the scent of the delectable treats wafting from the back.

As he neared the source of the humming, his eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of you, dancing and swaying to the music playing in your headphones. The sight was both unexpected and delightful, your movements exuding a joy and passion for your craft that was infectious, as you took trays from the oven to a cooling rack, from a rack to a counter where you were putting them on display trays... Fatgum found himself captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from you lost in your own little world, you continued to dance, your graceful motions mirroring the rhythm of the music.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Fatgum cleared his throat, his voice breaking the mostly silent atmosphere. "Um, excuse me?" he called out, a hint of hesitancy in his voice as he tried not to startle you. Unfortunately, you were easily startled... screaming out as you turned and glanced up at Fatgum.

“Oh, for crusts sake!” Your heartbeat was hammering in your chest as your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the unexpected visitor. A smile graced your lips as you removed your headphones, the soft beats of the music now louder through your headphones. "Fatgum! Wow... ah, I'm sorry, we're closed for the day," you explained, a touch of regret in your voice. "But if you'd like, I can save you some goodies for tomorrow."

Fatgum chuckled, his soft laughter filling the air. "Actually, I was hoping to try something right now. The aroma drew me in from the street and I’m never by here when you’re open," he confessed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

A mischievous glint appeared in your eyes as you surveyed the array of freshly baked treats. "Well, since you've stumbled upon my secret late-night baking session, how about I make an exception and offer you a taste of something special? You are my favorite hero, and I did leave the door unlocked..."

The anticipation on Fatgum's face was palpable as he nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with excitement, accompanied by a soft blush on his cheeks at you calling him your favorite hero. You swiftly moved to the counter, retrieving a tray as you filled it with an assortment of pastries. Each treat looked like a work of art, their colors and textures enticing him without even taking a bite. Placing the tray between you, you explained each delicacy, sharing their unique flavors and ingredients. As Fatgum took his first bite, a look of pure bliss washed over his face. The combination of flavors exploded in his mouth, a symphony of sweetness and indulgence unlike anything he had ever experienced before, he felt his energy explode in a way it never had with other foods he consumed.

For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this cozy bakery. Fatgum savored each bite, relishing in the care and expertise that went into creating each mouthwatering creation, and with every bite, a sense of warmth and connection grew between you... and as the last crumbs were devoured Fatgum let out a satisfied sigh, his hunger satisfied. He couldn't help but smile at you, gratitude radiating from his kind gaze.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "This was more than I could have imagined. You truly have a gift."

You returned his smile, a twinkle of pride in your eyes. "It's my pleasure. Sharing my passion with others is the best part of what I do... and even more unexpectedly when I get to share it with you – I never imagined I’d have the chance."

The two of you shared a moment of quiet appreciation, the sound of soft music still playing in the background. It was a serendipitous encounter, a bright spark of a connection formed over pastries and something more.

Days turned into weeks in the blink of an eye since that fateful nighttime encounter at your bakery. Fatgum found himself drawn back to the warmth and comfort of Flake & Crumble, not just for the mouthwatering pastries, but also for the inexplicable comfort he had found in you. With each visit, conversations grew longer and more intimate. Fatgum discovered your passion for baking went beyond the delicious treats you created; you often donated a lot of product to nearby shelters, you had charity days where all the money your bakery made would go to a chosen charity of the week... you heart was as big as your industrial-sized mixer, and it endeared him to you... and in return, you found solace in his presence, his jovial nature bringing a sense of ease and laughter to your days you never knew you were needing. It was a surreal experience, having your number one hero visiting you nearly daily but as time passed you grew more and more comfortable around him, he was just so easy to open up to, and be around.

On a particularly busy day, as you rushed around the bakery attending to customers and ensuring every order was prepared to perfection, Fatgum watched you with admiration. The way you effortlessly multitasked, your dedication evident in every meticulous detail, made him appreciate your talents even more... you were the one solely making the baked goods, and working the shop... you didn’t employ anyone – having stated one night that it was your labor of love and you had a hard time letting go of control when it came to the shop.

Finally, when the stream of customers began to dwindle, Fatgum took a deep breath, gathering his courage. Today was the day he would take the leap and ask you on a date, hoping that the connection he felt was reciprocated. With a warm smile, he approached the counter where you stood, a gentle flush gracing his cheeks. "Hey, (Name)," he greeted, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You turned to face him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Hey Fatgum, what’s up... need another round of sweet breads?"

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd be interested in going out with me sometime. You know, like a date?"

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard by his request. However, the surprise quickly transformed into a soft, genuine smile. "I'd love to," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity as you averted your gaze from him, a red-hot blush creeping upon your face.

"Really? That's great! How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? My treat." His excitement was palpable as relief washed over him; a weight lifted from his shoulders.

You nodded, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "Sounds wonderful. I'll be looking forward to it."

As the evening settled in, the two of you exchanged contact information, eagerly making plans for the following day. The anticipation and excitement filled the air, as Fatgum left your bakery with the melodic chime of your door, waving back at you with his signature grin from beyond the painted glass.

The next evening, Fatgum arrived at your doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Dressed in a clean, crisp outfit, not totally dissimilar to his hero costume, but more muted in shades of black and grey... an attempt to be casual despite his stature. He beamed with joy as you opened the door, a radiant smile adorning your face as you happily accepted the bouquet, inviting him in for a drink as you put the flowers in a beautiful clear vase before heading out together.

The date was filled with laughter, heartfelt conversations, and shared moments of connection over a delicious meal. You discovered more about each other's hopes, dreams, and passions. Time seemed to melt away as the evening unfolded, leaving the two of you lost in each other's company, and as the night ended, Fatgum walked you back to your apartment, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. The moonlight cast a gentle glow, enveloping you both in a quiet intimacy.

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "I had an amazing time tonight," he confessed, his voice filled with nervous sincerity. "And I hope we can do it again soon."

A blush spread across your cheeks as you looked up at him, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and affection. "I had a wonderful time too, Fatgum," you replied softly. "I would love to see you again." You paused, considering your words. “For another date, outside of the bakery.”

“Taishiro,” Fatgum said softly, looking down at you with a soft expression.

“Hm?” You glanced up again, Fatgum backlit by the moonlight making him even more handsome in your eyes as the night enveloped you both.

“Taishiro,” Fatgum repeated, smiling gently. “You can call me by my name, if you’d like to... Taishiro.”

With a shy smile you reached out, gently taking his large hand in yours... the warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, your imagination running wild with the thoughts of where else his hands could go on your body... but instead you swallowed hard despite your mouth drying out, nervous, as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “Goodnight, Taishiro,” you murmured softly, and Fatgum couldn’t stop the blush on his cheeks, and if anyone asked it would be from the three glasses of wine he had at dinner. “Thank you for a most wonderful first date,” you leaned up, kissing the corner of his mouth as you turned and walked inside your apartment building... leaving a stunned Fatgum on the sidewalk, reaching up to touch where your lips had been with a dreamy sigh.

A week after your first date an unexpected thing happened, although within regular society Pro Heroes existed for one reason: to fight evil, to ward off villains... so not all that surprising when a group of villains attacked causing immeasurable damage to the city, and particularly the street your bakery was on.

Villains, you thought as you lay beneath a piece of large steel rafter, what a bunch of assholes.

Fatgum's heart pounded with worry as he hurriedly made his way to your bakery. His mind raced with fear and concern, dreading what he might find upon his arrival. He had heard of the attack, had been dispatched in helping aide the other Pro Heroes on scene to wrap up the fight and evacuate citizens... Fatgum immediately recognizing the epicenter of the attack was in the district your bakery sat in the dead center of. The usual pleasant anticipation of seeing you had been replaced with a sense of dread, fueled by the realization that something terrible had happened, and the uncertainty of what he was to face when he found you... if he found you.

Rescue and recovery efforts had just begun, still in the planning and dispatching stages and as he turned the corner, his worst fears were confirmed. The once welcoming facade of Flake & Crumble now bore the scars of a violent encounter. Broken glass and scattered debris littered the entrance, and the interior was in disarray. Panic seized his chest as he called out your name, desperately hoping for a response as he bulldozed his way through the wreckage to the back of the bakery, ensuring no other civilians were injured in the building as well.

His heart sank when he heard a faint groan coming from the back. Without a second thought, Fatgum rushed forward, his instincts as a hero kicking into overdrive as he rushed over, his eyes widened with concern as he found you pinned beneath a steel beam, a stream of dried blood tracking down your face as you cradled your arm, your features etched with pain.

Fatgum's heart pounded with worry as he hurriedly made his way to your bakery. His mind raced with fear and concern, dreading what he might find upon his arrival. The usual pleasant anticipation of seeing you had been replaced with a sense of dread, fueled by the realization that something terrible had happened.

As he turned the corner, his worst fears were confirmed. The once welcoming facade of Flake & Crumble now bore the scars of a violent encounter. Broken glass and scattered debris littered the entrance, and the interior was in disarray. Panic seized his chest as he called out your name, desperately hoping for a response.

His heart sank when he heard a faint groan coming from behind the counter. Without a second thought, Fatgum rushed forward, his instincts as a hero kicking into overdrive. His eyes widened with concern as he found you cradling your arm, your face etched with pain.

"(Name)! Are you alright?" Fatgum exclaimed, kneeling beside you and lifting the metal beam off of your body.

You winced, but managed a weak smile. "I'm... I'm okay, Fatgum. Just a few minor injuries... my quirk keeps me flexible enough to manage this kind of thing, to be honest."

His heart swelled with relief at your words, though the sight of your pain tore at him. "We need to get you to a hospital," he insisted, gently supporting you as you attempted to stand.

You shook your head, stubborn determination flashing in your eyes. "No, Fatgum. The bakery... It needs to be taken care of first. We can worry about me later."

“Like Hell we can!” Fatgum shouted, his worry and the ball of anxiety that formed in him on his way over coming to a head as he exploded, tears welling up in, and falling from his eyes. “At least get checked out by the medics at the triage tent.” Seeing his grief at your current state, you didn’t want to be stubborn and argue, simply nodding and allowing him to carefully lead you over to the triage tent, where a medic with a healing quirk looked you over and assessed minimal damage, performing a quick heal that took care of the more major scrapes and bruises, and the laceration to your head. Despite your anxiety surrounding your bakery, Fatgum did his best to offer support and comfort in the form of physical touch, and encouraging words. They worked for the most part, but he noticed the deep, sad frown on your face as you looked at the decimated store front of Flake & Crumble.

Weeks passed as the restoration efforts continued, and through it all, Fatgum remained a constant presence in your life. He supported you emotionally, ensuring that you felt safe and cared for during the process of rebuilding. After a lot of hard work from you, and surprising, heartwarming efforts by the surrounding community, the bakery stood stronger than ever, a symbol of resilience.

As the last piece of expertly painted glass was installed Fatgum gently took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and affection. "We made it through, (Name)," he said softly. "And I promise, I'll always be here to protect you." Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude and love as you leaned up on the stool you were standing on, gently cradling his large face in your hands as you placed a sweet, passionate kiss to his lips. Fatgum didn’t react at first, being taken by complete surprise until his brain stopped misfiring long enough to wrap his arms around your body, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss, minutes passing until the desperate need for air forced you two apart, your foreheads pressing against each other as your eyes remained closed, basking in the intimacy of the afterglow. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, Fatgum looked at you with a mix of nervousness and affection. His eyes held a silent question, a desire to take the next step in your relationship after the shared moment with you.

"(Name), there's something I've been wanting to ask you," Fatgum began, his voice filled with tenderness. "Would you... would you like to come over to my place? I'd love to spend more time with you, just the two of us... if it’s not too forward."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you took his hand in yours. "I'd love to, Taishiro,” you murmured, pressing another soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. His face lit up with joy, and he helped you wrap up the final touches on the bakery, locking up for the night; finally leading you to his apartment, a cozy space that reflected his big, warm personality. As you entered, you couldn't help but notice the comfortable and inviting atmosphere, adorned with plush furniture and soft lighting, and the heavenly smell of various snacks, and foods you hadn’t ever seen before... did he have foreign snacks imported? You couldn’t help the smile as you slipped out of your shoes, allowing Fatgum to lead you into his space as he picked you up and sat you down on the countertop in his kitchen as he made a quick phone call, ordering enough food to feed a small army as he grinned at you, walking in close to cage you between his body and the countertop. His large hands coming up to rest on the plushness of your hips as you felt his fingers squeeze and knead at the soft skin, a small gasp leaving your mouth as your lips parted at the sensations, Fatgum taking that moment to seal a kiss against your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth and filling you up in an unexpected way... but for such a large man, this size different wasn’t a surprise. He finally pulled away, both of you left panting as a needy look adored your sweet face, shooting a jolt of desire straight to Fatgum’s cock as he looked down at you, admiring the beauty of the moment.

His gaze met yours, seeking permission and reassurance. In that silent exchange, you both recognized the deepening connection that had blossomed between you... but before he could act on any further desire, as the warmth of your intimate moment lingered, a gentle rumble broke the tranquility of the room. Both you and Fatgum couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected interruption, your stomachs growling in unison.

A playful smile tugging at your lips. "I guess it's time to take a break from the romance and satisfy a different hunger." Reluctantly disentangling yourselves, you both moved from the kitchen and made your way to the living room, you sitting on the plush couch just as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the food. Fatgum rushed to open it, returning with bags filled with a delicious-smelling array of food. The two of you set the food out on the coffee table, creating a makeshift feast that showcased an array of mouthwatering dishes as Fatgum smiled at you.

“Dig in!” He said happily. In between mouthfuls, you and Fatgum continued your conversation, enjoying each other's company in a different, yet equally fulfilling way. The initial passion might have been momentarily set aside, but the connection between you remained strong, fostering a deep sense of closeness. As the last morsel was devoured and satisfied sighs escaped your lips, Fatgum leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. "You know, (Name), even takeaway can't compare to the sweetness of being with you," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection, a playful smile on his face at the cheesy thing he said.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude. "And being with you feels like home," you replied softly, your heart swelling with new love as Fatgum stared wide-eyed at you, for a moment it didn’t even seem like he was breathing as he pulled you into his arms, squeezing gently as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. With a renewed sense of appreciation for each other you both cleared the table before returning to the couch. Fatgum pulling you onto his lap as your legs straddled him as best as you could, his sheer size dwarfing you and causing you to blush with the sight of him... he was so gentle, so tender and loving for someone so intimidating in his size. Fatgum’s hands settled back on your hips, one hand reaching up to pull you back into a hungry kiss. Your lips parted for him with a sigh as his tongue explored your mouth once more, one hand anchored to the plush of your hip as the other began a slow ascent beneath your shirt, coming to rest a large hand over your chest as he pulled away to look at you, his eyes asking a silent question as you nodded... reaching back behind you to further the night as you unclasped your bra and let the material drop to the floor as you then pulled your sweater above your head, your top half now bared to Fatgum’s hungry eyes.

“Wow,” he breathed, both hands now reaching up to knead and massage your chest, enjoying the needy little breathy sounds he pulled from you as he pinched your nipples with moderate strength. He lifted you up a little in his arms, leaning forward to take each breast in his mouth, sucking on the soft skin and nipping gently at each of your nipples as he assaulted you with hungry licks, gentle bites and new sensations you didn’t think chest stimulation would give you... but he was giving them to you. After a moment Fatgum helped you strip from your bottoms, too, before lifting you up as you gave a small, surprised scream before he threw your legs over his shoulders, bringing your exposed pussy to him as he leaned forward, his large hands gripping your hips as he gave an experimental lick, your body jolting with the sensation as his warm tongue completely covered you. Fatgum was a man who could ear, clearly, by his stature and the functionality of his quirk – there was no question... and with the masterful way he speared you on his tongue, the large appendage acting almost as a cock, warm, thick and wet as it wriggled and licked each hidden crevice inside of you, there was truly no question of his skills. Your mind went black as the pleasure overtook your body, the unexpected way he managed to use his size to utilize his tongue in a way no other man could had your body jolting up, grabbing onto him as you shook and convulsed on him, his tongue still fully seated inside of you as he pulled back slowly, drinking the sweet cum that you gave him... his retreat sending shudders through your body as your mind buzzed with the white noise of post mind-blowing orgasm.

He carefully lowered your body from his shoulders, opting to carry you bridal style as he walked you both into his bedroom. Fatgum set your nude body atop the plush comforter on his mega-sized bed, sinking into the softness as you licked your lips, watching as Fatgum slowly undid his jacket, revealing a t-shirt beneath, slowly slipping out of it as he revealed rippling muscle covered in layers of fat, an expanse of new and faded stretchmarks, proof of his body expanding and shrinking as it does, his strong arms flexing as he reaches down to slip out of his pants... left in nothing but black boxer briefs as your eyes goes wide as saucers at the sight of his half-hard bulge already being larger than any monster-sized toy you’ve seen online while shopping for yourself. Fatgum blushed under your intense scrutiny, before you smiled up at him, a genuine, loving smile.

“Y-You’re so...” you couldn’t find the words as you licked your lips again, staring across the expanse of his large body. “You’re so beautiful, Fatgum, so handsome... just... so damn big.” You breathed out, motioning for him to come to you as you slipped off the bed, standing up now as you touched all over his body, admiring the scars, curves, plush fat and muscle as he allowed you to grab and grope however, and wherever you please. “Gorgeous...” you breathed again, and this time Fatgum leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, the taste of your cum still on his tongue as he devoured you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he sat you down on the bed, with him still standing his pelvis was at the perfect height for him to just... slip in. “Underwear, off, please.” You managed out, leaning back to toy with your clit as your wet, welcoming pussy called to him. He slipped from his boxer briefs, revealing a monster cock and a worried look on his face as you stared up at him.

“S-Should we even try? I don’t want to hurt you...” Fatgum said softly, a sad dejected tone to his voice. You shook your head slowly, smiling up at him.

“Remember when I told you about my quirk?” Fatgum nodded, briefly remembering when you mentioned it to him. “I can stretch, Taishiro... any part of my body.” He felt as though someone dumped a bucket of cold water on him, his eyes going wide as his brain misfired... you can stretch? He will... he will fit with no issues? He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe his luck in running into you, falling for you... and the universe giving him this gift of you two being able to fit each other perfectly. “Now please fuck me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, with a few pumps to his length, he lined himself up with you, still filled with nervous energy as he pressed forward into you and while the stretch was tight and pleasant, and the look on your face was pure, unfiltered bliss... Fatgum could feel the way you gave way to him, feel the way be bottomed out and see the way he made your belly bulge up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed under his breath, reveling in a sensation he had never been able to experience before, the warm, wet tightness of your pussy convulsing around him as his balls rested heavy against your ass was something else... something he could never dream to imagine, fisting his hand or the custom-ordered cock sleeve did not compared to this feeling. Fatgum pulled almost all the way out, just the spongy head of his cock left inside to stretch you as he slammed his hips back up into you, a high-pitched scream of pleasure leaving your throat as you looked up at him, eyelashes already clumping together with tears from the sheer fullness he left you with. Fatgum couldn’t hold himself back, using your hips as leverage as he simultaneously slammed his cock forward and pulled your body to him until he was bullying his cock against your cervix in a mix of pleasure and pain, the overstimulation and his relentless thrusting leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, a mixture of your cum, his spit and pre-cum... Fatgum bit hit bottom lip as he groaned, unable to deal in the pleasure your body was bringing him, your sweet saccharine cries as he pummeled into you until your body was shaking with another release, your walls clamping down around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your second orgasm. It wasn’t long after, with how tightly your cunt squeezed around his cock that his hips were stuttering and he was unloading a truly enormous release inside of you, the sticky white seeping out of your hole as he drug his cock in and out of you at a slower pace, until he fully softened in you, his cockhead releasing with a wet click as he nearly fell back onto the floor from the exhaustion and bliss. Fatgum lifting up your limp body, holding you close to him as he led you both to his shower, allowing the water to heat up and steam the bathroom as he stepped into the wide shower, practically a room of its own with large benches built in as he set you down under one of the many streams coming from multiple angles. He held lather a mild, sweet soap on your skin as you started to smell his familiar scent, your body relaxing into his touch as he took care to clean you up, even having you pee in the shower to prevent a UTI, cleaning you up again afterward... he took a moment away from you to wash himself, before turning off the water after a nice forty minutes together beneath the hot streams. He towel-dried your hair, and body, along with his as he walked you both back to his bed, stripping the top comforter that was stained and sticky, the musky scent of sex clinging to it as he went into his closet and pulled out a clean smelling, equally plush duvet. He settled into bed and pulled you close against him, murmuring sweet words into your hair as he held you close, stroking your body and kissing the top of your head. He offered you water, which you drank quickly as he smiled down at you, whispering thank you’s and words of his adoration as you settled against him, your eyes closing as you began to sink into a dreamless sleep, exhausting taking you with it.

“When you wake up, I’m going to ask you to be my girlfriend officially,” Fatgum whispered softly, stroking the hair out of your face.

“Just marry me,” you yawned, the whisper leaving Fatgum frozen to his spot as he wasn’t sure if you were serious or not, wasn’t even sure if you were fully awake enough to realize what you said... but he vowed that come the first light of the morning he would definitely bring it up again.

It wasn’t hard for him, already picturing your guys’ life together.

#rom-com collab 💐#Honee.collabs #BNHA #MHA #BNHA Fatgum #MHA FatGum #MHA Toyomitsu Taishiro #BNHA Toyomitsu Taishiro #MHA Smut #MHA Fluff #BNHA Smut #BNHA Fluff #Toyomitsu Taishiro smut #Fatgum smut #Toyomitsu Taishiro fluff #Fatgum fluff

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oh-stars · 24 days

Text

Meticulous

B is for Bread

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | G | 502 words | cw: grief

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Eddie pulls his hair up into a tight bun and tugs the apron around his waist. It’s shorter on him than he remembers, the hem brushing against his upper thigh, but still long enough to cover the edge of the counter. It’s been too long.

He takes a moment to look at the counter in front of him. Eddie’s a chaotic man, his head filled with too many ideas at once that just spill into every aspect of his day-to-day life, but not here. Not with this. It’s as if putting on that apron quiets down his brain in a way his guitar and writing can’t, like his mind is some wild stallion that music can’t break enough to take to kiddy riding classes. Everything is laid out before him, organized within an inch of his life, to the point that Nancy Wheeler would probably ask him for tips on how he did it. That is if she ever found out about this.

Even though it’s the same bowls he had back at the trailer, the same utensils, the same pans, it all looks foreign in the same way it’s familiar. These are his mother’s things in a place she’ll never get to see, in a home he shares with a man she’ll never meet. He grips the edge of the counter, eyes squeezed shut, as he breathes deeply.

He doesn’t have to say anything to her to know she’s with him now.

When he opens his eyes, he gets to work. He combines his carefully measured ingredients together, starting with the dry ingredients before he slowly introduces the wet mixture together. He takes his time, making sure nothing gets spilled or added at the wrong time, as a dough forms at the base of the bowl. There’s not a recipe or a cookbook in front of him as he works, just the gentle words of his mother whispering in his mind as he lets the dough rise and then works it again.

While it rises for the final time, Eddie cleans the kitchen back up. He’s not usually this thorough, much to Steve’s chagrin, but there’s something about using his mother’s kitchen rags and humming along to her old records that makes him put in the extra effort. It’s a little pointless, since he’s not quite done yet, but his Momma would be proud.

Momma’s been gone longer than Eddie knew her. He’s baked this bread on her birthday every year more times than he made it with her. If he thinks too long on it, he can’t put it to words, can’t stomach the heaviness he feels or how unmoored it leaves him. It just means he has to take better care of the tools she left behind, to keep her here with him as long as he possibly can, and make sure he never forgets the original recipe. It’s stashed away in between the pages of a well-loved children’s book she used to read to him, along with a few pressed flowers from her hospital room, the last ones she ever saw.

Steve comes in as Eddie’s pulling the bread out from under the kitchen towel. He doesn’t say anything, just drops a kiss to the side of Eddie’s neck, squeezes his waist. He gets it. Steve holds Eddie as he braids the dough and puts the few loaves onto pans to bake. His touch activates something in Eddie, much like the yeast in his bread, but Steve doesn’t offer any kind words or condolences. There’s no need. Eddie can feel it.

Instead, Steve gently wipes away his tears and tightens his grip on Eddie’s waist. And once the bread is in the oven and the timer is set, he’ll gather Eddie in his arms, sway to Dolly’s words in the middle of the kitchen, and let Eddie let go when he’s ready.

---

Thank you for beta reading @lady-lostmind!!!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve harrington #tw grief #ohstars posting challenge #alphabet prompts

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daisybianca · 1 year

Text

pairing: sebastian vettel x femalereader

summary: you've had a rough day at work and your boyfriend surprises you with dinner and dessert when you arrive home.

warnings: mostly fluff

YOU EXITED THE elevator onto the floor of your apartment, relieved the long and hellish day at the office was over.

Suddenly, you smelt the most delectable aroma. “Mmm, that smells delicious.” You said to yourself as you inch closer to your door.

A grin spread across your face as you realized the scent originated from inside your place. As you entered, you heard your Seb singing along with Journey’s, ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ and your grin widened.

You opened the door, closing it softly behind you so you can continued to witness the show. You removed your coat, placing it, along with your keys, on the accent table. Slowly, you walked towards the kitchen and you could barely contain your laugh as your eyes focused on him. Seb’s back was to you and he wass bent over the stove, inspecting what was in the oven. He was singing aloud without a care, hips swaying.

“You Give Love a Bad Name!” He belted out.

Still bent over, he turned around and looked at you. A smirk appeared on his beautiful face as he straightened up and closed the oven door. Whimsically, he walked over to you re-enacting the entire scene in which you laughed out loud, shaking your head. You took in his appearance as your laughs morphed into desire.

Seb was wearing a dark grey Henley over stone-washed, destructed jeans which hung over his perfect hips; the frays danced over his bare feet as he advanced. He approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Like the show?” Seb asked before kissing you softly on your lips, moving down to your chin then to your neck where he lingered, taking a long whiff of your coconut lotion. “Mmm, you always smell like we’re on a tropical island. I wonder if you taste like coconut.” Your boyfriend said as he began to lightly nip at your neck, making sure not to leave any marks.

Your hands snaked up his biceps. You managed the strength to formulate words, momentarily lost due to his ministrations. “I love any show you put on. Especially private ones.”

“Hmm. Duly-noted.” He replied as he pulled back. “Dinner is ready.” He said. “I know this was a long day for you, so I didn’t want you to worry about anything. We’re having lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. For a special treat, it’s cannoli for dessert. Recipes courtesy of mamma Vettel.” He beamed proudly and took your hand, leading you toward the island. You looked over at the cannoli’s and happened to notice something missing.

“Are you going to finish the cannolis before we eat?” You asked, curiously.

“What do you mean?” Seb inspected the cannolis, confusion etched on his brows.

“You forgot the chocolate chips, babe.”

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he dipped a finger into one of the cannolis, scooping up some mascarpone cream, ever so slowly spreading it on your lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the chocolate.” He leaned in to your lips, licking the cream off before kissing you.

The kiss was deliberately slow, allowing you to taste and savor the mascarpone cream mixed with his own personal flavor.

“Mmm.” Seb sighed as he drew back from the connection. “Perfect!” He exclaimed as he looked at you, deep in thought.

As if a lightbulb went off in his mind, he grabbed the cannoli in one hand and your hand in the other and walked by the dining table.

“Change of plans? You inquired, as if you didn't already know the answer.

“Yep.” Seb simply stated as he lead you to the bedroom. “Because I’m having dessert first.”

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

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sorrowfulrosebud · 5 months

Text

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Yandere Cassie with an Accepting Darling (not Stockholm syndrome)

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Yandere behaviours, possessiveness. Tbf you can’t even tell this is yandere

𝕬/𝕹: these mortal kombat requests are for @ludwig1380’s birthday, so happy belated birthday!!

“Baaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe!” Cassie shouted from the kitchen as she stirred the pasta sauce that was simmering in the pan. The pasta had long been cooked, slowly cooling in the bowls you had set aside whilst you took a shower.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” You laughed back, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. You rested your head against her shoulder and swayed you both slowly. The damp towel you were using to mop your hair hung over your neck.

“Leave the towel in the bathroom, dumbass. You know how my mom gets,” she murmurs back, stirring the sauce. You laugh, before squeezing her sides.

“Anyway, how is the sauce looking? Nearly done?” You ask, looking at the sauce intently. She lifted up the spoon before blowing on it, and lifting it to your lips. The sauce was incredibly spiced, well rounded and delicious.

“I think it’s missing something though, I just don’t know what,” Cassie pondered. You reach over her shoulder and grab a shaker of oregano with a smirk. You sprinkle some in, before taking the spoon feeding her some sauce.

She turns the pan off, putting it to one side before turning around to pull you into a kiss.

“How’s it taste now?” She murmurs, bumping her nose against yours.

“Exactly like the family recipe. Now, you set the table, and I’ll dish everything up. I want to really impress your parents tongue,” you tell her, removing her apron and kissing the tip of her nose.

“Sure thing babe, but don’t worry. My mom is a hard nut but she really likes you. You’re aware of my dad’s feelings of you, considering he puts you in a headlock every time he sees you,” she laughs, tapping your ass as she starts preparing the table.

“I know, Cass. It’s just a lot of pressure considering we’re cooking their anniversary dinner,” you smile nervously. “It’s even more knowing we’ll be eating with them.”

You dish out the meal, making sure everything is perfect. The pasta was slightly al dente, the sauce was beautiful and the garlic bread was golden brown. Cassie used the nicest tablecloth to cover the table, as well as light some candles to bask the dining room in a warm glow.

Cassie had phoned her parents to let them know you had finished, both of you wearing slightly formal get up. Johnny entered the dining room first, a happy exclamation and a headlock your response to your hello. Sonya followed afterwards as you politely salute her as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, (Y/N). This is certainly a large spread of food! You didn’t have to do this for our anniversary,” she smiles very slightly, hand cocked on her waist. You gave her a polite smile back and wrap your arm around Cassie.

“Well, Cassie insisted I come back over for dinner and make you my family recipe spaghetti. It was Mr Cage who asked me to cook for your anniversary,” you smile. Johnny’s grin widened as he ruffled your hair.

“Hell yeah, kiddo! Plus it’s free food, Sonya. Who’s gonna say no to a nice home-cooked meal,” he said boisterously. You roll your eyes playfully, pulling out Cassie’s chair as she adjusts herself. Everyone digs in, sounds of appreciation leaving Johnny everyone.

“Wow, this is incredible (Y/N). Is this really a family recipe?” Sonya asked, looking at you. You lower your fork and smile.

“Yup! Been in the family as long as I can remember. I remember eating this as a kid, and it never fails to make me happy,” you explain happily. Cassie smiles at you.

“This is fan-fucking-tastic kiddo! See Son, I told you it was a good idea to have them come for dinner!” Johnny boasts proudly, sauce staining his white shirt. Sonya has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes.

“Language at the table, Johnny. I must say Cassie, you’ve found yourself a very capable partner,” Sonya comments. Cassie nudges you and whispers.

“She’s basically saying for you to move in,” she giggles as her mother glares at her before looking back to you.

“You have clearly demonstrated that you can take excellent care of my daughter. She cares for you and trusts you in return. You have my blessing to continue seeing Cassie,” she finishes as she eats a meatball. You can feel yourself smile widely as Johnny laughs.

“Oh please Son, you were basically gushing over them the first day Cassie brought ‘em here. She’s just trying to intimidate you kid, our Sonya over here is as scary as a kitten when you get to know her,” he teases, holding Sonya’s hand as she tuts.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and watch a movie. Your father and I can tackle these dishes since you cooked,” Sonya offered, shushing your protests.

“Don’t worry about it, you two go and have fun.”

The two of you flopped on the bed, laughing at each other.

“God I’m soooooo full. I doubt I’ll be able to eat for a week after this,” Cassie groans, weaving her fingers with yours.

“Ugh I know. We always have leftovers though,” you smile as you nuzzle her head. Cassie breathily laughs back, throwing you a set of pyjamas as she starts getting ready for bed.

“Get changed so we can watch the movie, babe,” she prompts. You get ready quickly, getting ready for optimal spooning conditions. Cassie slots herself in front of you, getting comfortable as you kiss her hair. She’s out like a light in minutes, giving you plenty of time to grab her phone.

And take a loving selfie of you both.

#yandere cassie cage #yandere cassie #yandere mortal kombat 11 #yandere mortal kombat 11 x reader #yandere mortal kombat #yandere mortal kombat x reader #yandere mk11 #yandere mk11 x reader #yandere mk #yandere mk x reader #cassie cage mk11 #Cassandra cage

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tricktster · 2 years

Text

so i’ve been baking bread pretty regularly since sayyyy april 2020. you know, when we were waiting for this whole kooky covid thing to die down in a few weeks, but in the meantime some people had taken the very rational step of buying out every store’s supply of EXTREMELY PERISHABLE goods, including the extremely sad 100 calorie sandwich rounds favored by my parents.

now me? I’d read enough zombie very serious survival books to have ventured to the co-op on March 10 to stock up on dry bulk ingredients, and I’d included yeast and bread flour among the necessities - not because I thought that they’d ever get used, really, it just seemed practical if things got a lot worse than anticipated. And then? Well. You know.

So I joined the club of the tens of thousands of americans who had always viewed leavened dough with a healthy skepticism and the deep sense that these things were best left to the professionals. With the circumstances now unimaginably altered, we were now very cautiously dumping yeast into bowls of warm water, all the while doubting that this would actually work. So, obviously, that sense of accomplishment I felt when, after all the proofing and kneading and rising and punching down and rising again and venting and egg washing and etc etc etc, I actually pulled two relatively respectable loaves of bread out of the oven? Fucking intoxicating.

I’ve gotten medium good at bread over the intervening years, insofar as I can produce a sandwich loaf without needing to find a recipe, I’m pretty comfortable with adding cheese or garlic or raisins and nuts or whatever if I’m feeling like an Interesting Bread, i’ve forced a few loaves of sourdough into existence (though both I and the dough were kicking and screaming the whole way), and I recieved the ultimate tool of convenience for my birthday last year, when my parents gave me the dutch oven that finally permitted me to finally skip kneading altogether (if I so desired).

Except like.,. I didn’t ask for a dutch oven. I actually asked for something much cheaper and by all accounts more convenient: A bread machine. When I did, though, my mom (who has baked precisely 0 loaves of bread in her life) said “oh, you don’t want a bread machine.”

“I don’t?” I asked, already halfway swayed by her confidence on the matter.

“oh, no, nobody ever actually uses bread machines, they just take up space on the counter.” my mom, a woman who owns two instapots, assured me.

I considered her reasoning, and very firmly replied with a defiant “oh, okay, yeah. that makes sense, and I guess I’ve gotten this far without one, so like, it’s silly to get one now.”

I know. I have a will of steel.

So like, another year has passed since that exchange, and a week or two ago i finally decided that since counter space is no longer at a premium at my new place, i could at least try out a cheap bread machine? I went on ebay, got an open box deal on a decent entry level model, and took it for a spin yesterday.

And, for what it’s worth, uhhhhhhh HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT COULD HAVE BEEN THIS LOW EFFORT THE WHOLE TIME?????

LIKE I COULD HAVE BEEN JUST DUMPING INGREDIENTS IN A PAN AND WALKING AWAY THIS WHOLE TIME?????!?!?!?

it’s making brioche for me right now. It’s almost too easy. I’m actively furious.

This feels exactly like the day I finally bought a game genie so i could get Mew to finish out my red dex. I’ve been grinding and learning helpful strats from youtube and there was a fucking cheat code that would have let me skip the bread making side quest while still gaining xp this whole goddamn time.

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dreamingsung · 1 year

Note

Ik this is my third one I'm sorry😔but I can't stop thinking of more scenarios 😭WHAT WOULD BAKING WITH THE DREAMIES BE LIKE?LIKE WHA-

Ok ok ok ok I think I’ve got this..

Mark

A little chaotic tbh. If you’ve seen the JCC where he’s baking with Johnny and Ten then you know what I mean. He’s doing his best and that’s what matters, even if you somehow end up with bread instead of cookies, plus it’s quality time with each other and it’ll definitely be filled with a lot of laughs. He'd probably crack the corniest jokes or make awful puns about whatever step you're on with the recipe. Lots of touch whether it's a hand holding your shoulder while he laughs or he'll stand directly next to you and give you a little hip bump to get your attention. He'd just randomly smile at you because his heart is so full of love for you. The most gentle and lighthearted atmosphere on the planet and when the finished product comes out of the oven looking a little suspicious, the two of you would laugh together and be surprised that the outcome actually tastes pretty good.

Renjun

I feel like baking wise he’d know his way around the kitchen. It’d be a more calm environment and you guys would play more laid back songs and maybe end up dancing in the kitchen together. Swaying together and laughing lightheartedly after you place the baking sheet into the oven. While you wait and prepare the icing, he'd backhug you and place a little kiss on your neck before resting his head on your shoulder, watching your efforts and would maybe even softly hum whatever song you two are listening to in that moment. When the cookies are done and decorated you guys just stare at them with pride before one of the members snatches one and runs away.

Jeno

For Jeno I feel like it could sway either way with being fun or being soft, it just depends on the mood of the situation. If it’s fun I feel like it’d be more playful and like maybe you guys have like a mini flour fight or like smear the dough or batter of the cookies or cake you’re baking on each other’s faces. If the mood is more soft it’d probably be similar to Renjun but I feel like Jeno would take even more of a lead and the two of you could work next to each other in a comfortable silence. He’d probably wrap an arm around your waist or kiss your cheek occasionally while guiding you through the instructions and by the end, whatever you were baking is gonna turn out great.

Haechan

His smug ass. He’d be so cocky and brag about how good his baking is because he made amazing cookies before (probably once tbh). When you challenge him to a competition and call his bluff his ego gets in the way and agrees. He’d tease you to distract you the whole time so he can win, like if he needed to get something from you he’d basically press his whole body against you, maybe even place his hand on the small of your back, and grab whatever he needed before walking back to his little situation while he leaves you all flustered. He also might randomly back hug you randomly and kiss your neck while you just whine out his name annoyance, shooing him back to what is now a disastrous mess. Once the cookies are done, you have the members try them and when everyone agrees that yours are better he becomes the whiniest person you’ve ever met. He mopes around for the rest of the day until you cuddle together at the end of the night and he forgets the whole ordeal.

Jaemin

He’s so goofy when he’s with you but when he’s baking he’s pretty serious. He’d still crack jokes with you and mess around a little, maybe doing that little baby talk thing he does sometimes with the members (but obviously to you). Similar to jeno, he’d guide you through the steps. If you’re super focused on something, he might pull out his camera and secretly snap a few pics for a new Lock Screen before telling you how glad he is that you two met. He’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder while he continues to watch your efforts before he goes to set up the baking sheets and preheat the oven. He for sure just adores you.

Chenle

He’d know his way around a kitchen and he’d take every opportunity to sass you about it. Little Gordon Ramsey tbh, just baking up a storm next you. He'd still be joking around with you and I can see him dumping compliments on you so you're all flustered and then poking fun at how flustered you are. It would be more of a high energy experience when he's not focused on something and he'd just tease you and be dramatic about whatever you're doing. Whatever the two of you are baking ends up being and he'll shower you with compliments and call you little pet names.

Jisung

For Jisung I definitely feel like you'd end up having to take the lead on organizing everything for the recipe. He's not clueless, he's just a little clumsy. Meaning, you kind of monitor him when he's measuring things out. He'll most-likely have to just sit back and watch and I don't think he'd mind it since he's a more observant person anyways. He'd watch you with curiosity and love sparkling in his eyes as he watches your every move. Lots of questions from him, he'd also probably stand behind you and peek over your shoulder from time to time and pace elsewhere. Once the treat or treats that you're baking are in the oven, he gravitates towards you and backlogs you, caging your figure in his arms. A little kiss or two on the top of your head while he talks to you about how excited he is for the treat because he wants to taste your baking so bad. He'd be ecstatic when the treats are done and plated. He'd tell you how cool he thinks it is and mention the little things he noticed about you.

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netherzon · 3 months

Text

Don't Ask (Cake)

@hws-anthology

Here is my contribution to the Anthology! Its gerame (again), but I challenged myself to write Monika/Amelia this time.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5390

CW: some cursing

Amelia and Monika can both be very stubborn. Once they’ve decided something, it can be hard to change their mind. On this day, they will settle the ultimate debate: is zucchini bread ‘bread’? Also, can you make chocolate cake with sauerkraut?

It was a lovely morning in Heidelberg, Monika’s favorite kind. She had time to sit on her balcony with her morning coffee and people watch in the square below. Cafes began setting out tables and chairs. Students rode by on their bikes. A farm truck arrived to set up their fresh asparagus stand.

The air was cool, but her coffee mug kept her warm as she watched, silently absorbing everything. The gentle wind ruffled her hair, and she pulled as much as she could into her lungs. Even as she exhaled that individual breath, she hoped she could carry with her the calm she felt from it for as long as possible.

Maybe it could be a source of strength for the day she was about to have.

She had fifteen more minutes of this before her company woke up. They were both morning people, but their approaches to the morning were very different. Monika reveled in the time she had between fully asleep and fully awake. After she was alert enough to make coffee, but not before she remembered all the important emails she probably had waiting for her. It was a kind of refuge.

Her girlfriend felt the opposite. Amelia resented feeling unproductive, especially when she was awake and moving around. She was convinced that if she was alert enough to walk in a straight line and remember where the coffee maker was, she should be able to get work done. In practice, this wasn’t true. Amelia’s solution was to pretend the middle ground didn’t exist anyway.

She had left the balcony door open behind her, so her view was unobstructed when Amelia decided to slide into the adjacent kitchen on her socks, still in her sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

“You almost knocked over my philodendron,” Monika says affectionately.

“Mornin’ to you too, darlin,” Amelia smiles, and wraps her arms around Monika’s shoulders. With most people, this would be a gentle move. One you do slowly, sensually, sweetly. Amelia manages to make it feel like a running jump hug, the kind that knocks over reuniting couples at the airport. She leans over Monika, her weight pressing down on her shoulders so they sway back and forth together. Monika thinks it's equally sweet. Despite being 25 cm shorter than Monika, Amelia’s hug feels like a weighted blanket.

Until Amelia leans down to Monika’s ear and whispers, “Do you remember what day it is?”

Monika pretends she doesn’t hear her, breathing in the strawberry scent of Amelia’s shampoo.

“I know you heard me, babe,” Amelia kisses her hair, “you know what day it is.”

“April 25th,” Monika says.

“Aaaaaaand?” Amelia prompts as she moves towards the kitchen.

“It’s a Tuesday?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand?” Amelia prompts again, louder this time. Monika sighs as she watches her girlfriend grab a travel mug from the cupboard.

“And nothing,” she says firmly, “there is nothing else to make this day significant here.”

Amelia is unphased by Monika’s stalling, “Oh ho ho, but at my house there is!” She’s beaming as she fills the mug with coffee.

Monika groans. Amelia slides back towards the bedroom, probably to get dressed.

“What holiday is it?” she calls back.

Monika holds firm. “National Zucchini Cake Day!” she yells.

“It’s Zucchini Bread Day!” Amelia rushes back, already wearing a polka dot dress. Her arms are crossed in an X. She’s pouting.

“That’s disputed,” is all Monika says. As she passes by to get ready herself, she makes sure to lean down and give Amelia a kiss.

They really only need zucchini from the store, but they like to go over the whole recipe anyway. Monika has most of the ingredients already because she uses them often, so they agree there’s no harm having more.

“All purpose flour, though?” she asks, “You’re sure we don’t need bread flour?”

Amelia shoots her a dirty look. “You can make bread with the normal amount of gluten, too,” she says, “you can even make it gluten free!”

Monika is enjoying this, though. “I’m telling you, calling it bread is an insult to bread. Real bread is raised with yeast, not baking soda.”

“You were raised with yeast,” Amelia shoots back indignantly.

Monika brings a finger to her chin, “I suppose. I was raised with yeast in my bread, that is true.” She smiles at her girlfriend grabbing a bag of chopped walnuts and some packets of baking powder.

Amelia stands proud, chin raised, shoulders back. It’s a move she’s pulled off many times at nation meetings. Despite her being relatively short among their kind, she’s never had trouble making her presence known. However, standing here in this Rewe, with her arms full of the core pillars of most baking recipes, her posturing is unbearably cute. “I cannot allow zucchini bread to be defamed on its national holiday,” she says, as seriously as she can manage outside of international affairs. Her mouth twitches the way it does when she’s trying very hard not to smile.

“Of course not, and I would hate to cause offense.” Monika walks serenely down the aisle, turning her nose up a bit as she passes Amelia. Amelia’s lips twitch harder.

Perhaps the bait was a little too good. Suddenly Amelia drops everything in her arms to lift Monika up in a bear hug. The bag of flour explodes a little on the floor. Everything else is mostly fine. Monika laughs out of surprise at first, and keeps laughing at the absurdity. Why or how, logical consistency, they lost their meaning when Amelia was in a good mood. They get some odd looks, and Monika would normally care more, but Amelia is completely unconcerned and Monika is laughing too hard. They are too happy to care how they look to other people.

There are relatively few hiccups on the way back to Monika’s apartment, but they have begun debating chemical leavening versus yeast again. It is the central debate of this entire experiment. Can something be called bread if it doesn’t use yeast? Is zucchini bread really bread?

“I would argue yeast leavening is a kind of chemical leavening though,” Amelia waves her hand between them as Monika searches for her loaf pans, “I mean us too — well maybe not us us — but organic life like yeast has chemical reactions goin on all the time. Yeast fermenting starch to create gas is chemical. Ergo, yeast is a chemical leavening agent just as much as the baking powder in zucchini bread is.”

“While that is objectively correct,” Monika says slowly, “I would argue then that perhaps it should be called “artificial leavening” instead of chemical. Yeast is an organic method, while baking powder and sodium bicarbonate are inorganic. None of that changes the fact that the different results produced by these methods are how we categorize cakes versus breads. The taste, the texture. They are not the same.”

They’ve gone in these circles before, but today is different. Today will be the first time Monika tries zucchini “bread” for herself. Today, this debate ends. One way or another.

They probably should’ve picked up another pan at the store though.

Amelia looks at the one loaf pan Monika has laid out beside the ingredients, “Alright, you have to have more of these. I coulda sworn you had five or six at least. What’s up?”

Monika sighs, “Julchen.”

This immediately piques Amelia’s interest. Those two were so alike sometimes. Too alike. Monika is sure that if Amelia had been there for Julchen’s scheming that day, she would’ve wholeheartedly gone along with it. Even now she is wary of giving Amelia new ideas by telling this story.

“What did she do?” Amelia asks with wide-eyed curiosity.

Monika looks at her suspiciously, but Amelia will just ask Julchen anyway if Monika avoids the question. “She tried baking gummy bears into bread. Predictably, the sugar burned and ruined my pans.”

“What’d she do that for?” Amelia asks with glee, “Was it for a pun?”

“It was for a pun,” Monika sighs, weary of the world and its tribulations.

“What was the pun?” Amelia bounces on the balls of her feet.

Monika sighs again. Julchen had a creative mind, and Monika admired that about her sister, but she could also get easily carried away.

“She wanted to call it ‘Haribrötchen’,” the words feel heavy coming out of her mouth. So many other solutions that didn’t end with the decimation of Monika’s baking pans. It wasn’t even the right sized pan for that pun to make sense, which only added insult to injury.

Amelia’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Damn, I wish it worked, that sounds hilarious and delicious.”

“It made the apartment smell like burnt sugar for days,” Monika replies.

“And you couldn’t pretend you just overcooked some caramel a little?” Amelia is teasing, but it makes Monika blush. She made caramel candies the very next day to distract herself from the smell. Amelia smirk becomes something more sincere, able to read Monika’s embarrassment easily.

“Damn, you really did, didn’t you? That’s adorable. You’re adorable,” Amelia punctuates this statement by reaching out for Monika’s hand and kissing her fingers repeatedly.

Monika fights a smile, “This is serious business, Schnecke. Today we are going to prove you are wrong about the taxonomy of baked goods. I will not be distracted by your charm.” She holds fast to Amelia’s hand despite that.

The recipe itself is simple. And it describes the end product as ‘cake-like’. Amelia quickly scrolls past that before Monika can see.

“Just like I remembered. Mix the dry ingredients, mix the wet ingredients, combine, add the zucchini and whatever, then bake. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!”

Monika watches her across the table. She had on a headband to hold her bangs out of her face. Tufts of hair stick out at funny angles. It makes Amelia want to run her fingers through Monika’s hair even more than usual. Monika’s bangs don’t even reach her eyes, but she says feeling her hair on her forehead distracts her while she’s working, even if it can’t actually block her view.

Monika balks a little at the ratio of flour to sugar. “I have a sweet tooth, and this still seems a bit much.”

“Trust me, this is the right way to eat vegetables.”

“All vegetables?” Monika asks with a raised eyebrow. It’s not so much a question as a challenge. How far are you willing to go with that statement?

This question actually gives Amelia pause. “You know what,” she begins once she’s run through a mental list of veggies, “I say yes.”

Monika’s raised eyebrow ticks higher. “Really?”

Amelia is undeterred, as always. She places her hands on her hips confidently, “Yup! If carrots and tomato soup and sauerkraut and pinto beans can all make good cake, and zucchini makes a good bread, and pumpkin and sweet potato can make good pie, I see potential in all things.”

“Sauer…kraut? Cake?” The rhythm of the question is broken, teetering on the edge of confusion and horror.

Amelia’s smile turns sly. She takes Monika’s face gently between her hands, rising up on her tiptoes so their lips brush gently. Against Monika’s mouth, she whispers, “You heard me, doll. Sauer. Kraut. Cake.”

Monika is frozen as Amelia kisses her once for real and then spins back to the computer. It’s not the most satisfying kiss they’ve shared. Monika’s mind is consumed by the memory of sauerkraut. The sour pickled cabbage she ate with meat and potatoes. In a cake….

Turned away, Amelia cheerfully adds, “With chocolate, by the way!”

Amelia grates the zucchini while Monika mixes the dry ingredients. Amelia hums a random string of notes to herself along with the sound of the zucchini against the cheese grater. Every so often her tune is accompanied by Monika running a knife over the top of the measuring cups. She’s not sure if Monika is trying to match her humming. She can feel Monika glancing over at her occasionally.

When Amelia is reaching the end of the zucchini she feels another foot tap lightly against hers. Be careful with your fingers.

Monika has already turned back to her mixing bowls when Amelia looks over at her. Amelia hums a little louder anyway, so even if Monika can’t see her smile she’ll be able to hear how happy she is.

The dough is runny. Too runny for kneading, which is one of Monika’s favorite parts of bread making. Disappointing. It makes a wet slopping sound as they pour it into the bread pan, green and yellow strips of zucchini standing out in the pale brown liquid.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Amelia cuts in before Monika can say anything, “it’s gonna taste delicious, and that’s what counts. That’s the only thing that counts.”

The bread-cake-thing still smells good when it's done baking at least.

“Not like zucchini.”

“Were you honestly expecting it to smell like zucchini over all that cinnamon?”

“A little bit.”

Monika chews thoughtfully. Amelia watches as patiently as one can while doing a drum roll on the kitchen counter.

Monika swallows.

“So?” Amelia asks.

Monika shrugs. “It’s fine,” she says without much feeling.

“Fine?”

“It’s fine,” Monika nods, “It does not taste like zucchini.”

“Did you really expect it to taste like zucchini too?”

“A little bit.”

“But?”

Monika shakes her head this time, “I still would not call it bread.”

Amelia throws back her head and groans.

“It tastes like a nice spiced cake.”

“But it’s not cake!”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if you gave it to me with frosting.”

Amelia hangs her head and walks off miserably. The whole walk is so exaggerated that Monika can tell it's being played up. Amelia is acting out a crushing defeat, the low point of the story where all hope seems lost. She will either bounce back with a new plan to convince Monika or something else will catch her attention and they will move on. This isn't a true argument between them, and so Monika is content to wait without budging. No need to concede or offer comfort until one of them had been proven definitively wrong (and neither of them really could). And so they continue, and every so often they bicker about it, because sometimes it was fun to bicker about things that did not really matter to anyone at all

She finds Amelia staring out the window in their bedroom. Her face is scrunched up, deep in thought. Somewhere in the apartment, she found a long furby, and it now hangs around her neck like a snake. Amelia tugs at one of its ears absentmindedly.

Monika wraps her arms around her waist, her chin resting on Amelia’s head. She grabs the end of the furby and wraps it around her neck too. Amelia looks out into the courtyard below and hums thoughtfully.

When they’re tied together to Monika’s satisfaction, Amelia leans back to look up at her, and asks a question to begin a new period of chaos.

“Do you think you could make asparagus into bread?”

They go to Aldi next.

After they stop by the asparagus stand.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Monika mutters.

Amelia smiles brightly at her, swinging their linked hands gleefully. “You should stop makin it so easy, my dear.”

She was right. They were both curious by nature, and Amelia had a talent for coming up with strange ideas when left on her own. It was not the first time Amelia had asked Is this [insert random thing] possible? and Monika had dedicated her time to helping her find out, just for the satisfaction of knowing. It would not be the last.

Still, Monika winces as she picks up a jar of sauerkraut, “How do you even come up with something like this, though? Sauerkraut? In a chocolate cake?”

Amelia hums, “It’s fuzzy, ya know? I don’t really remember. Some people say it was to use up rations during the war, some say it was a lunch lady in Chicago who just had a lot of extra sauerkraut lyin around and needed a way to feed it to the kids. Some people even think it was you guys who brought the recipe over.”

This is news to Monika, “But it already goes with sausage. We already found a good way to eat it. We did not need this.”

Amelia smiles at her all the same, apparently quite proud that her citizens had made sauerkraut and chocolate into an edible combination for some reason, “Maybe we didn’t need it. But it sure is fun putting weird stuff in a cake that still tastes good for your potluck, and then getting a bunch of compliments, ‘wow Amelia this might be the best cake I’ve ever had, what’s your secret?’, but you act all innocent like ‘oh Jolene, you know I can’t give that information out to just anybody’, but they’re insistent, they’re on their knees begging,” Amelia drops to her actual knees for dramatic effect in the middle of the grocery store, “‘Oh, please, Amelia I just have to know, it was so moist and fluffy, I think I’ll die if I don’t know the recipe!’” she smirks, “And then getting to see their face when you tell them they were eating sauerkraut.”

“...if it doesn’t taste like sauerkraut, then what does it taste like?”

“Coconut, actually.”

Monika snorts derisively, “I’ll believe it when I eat it.”

Amelia’s smile is confident, already self-satisfied, as she dusts grocery store floor dirt from her dress, “Yes, you will.”

That is, until she sees a seasonal display at the end of the aisle. Cream colored cardboard shelves are loaded with loaves of bread, wrapped individually. Schoko Chunk, Wilde Berre, Walnuss, Salted Caramel. In simple letters the sign advertises ‘Bananenbrot- Bio und Vegan’.

Amelia turns to her with the look of ultimate betrayal. “Are you kidding me?! Banana bread counts as bread but zucchini bread doesn’t? This is malarkey!”

Blink. “Banana is a fruit at least. Zucchini is a vegetable.” Monika’s logic does not sound convincing to either of them.

“That doesn’t make it better! It should be even more cake, then. Banana bread and fruit cake are cousins.”

One last shot, Monika. “You call it banana bread at your house too!”

Amelia crosses her arms and shifts her weight from foot to foot, back and forth. Her dress makes a swish swish noise, “That’s a swing and a miss, babe. At least I’m not a hypocrite about it. Zucchini bread and banana bread are siblings.”

“Alright, alright. I will concede that. In a world where banana bread is bread, zucchini bread should be too.”

Amelia’s face softens slightly, but she continues to shift restlessly, “But you don’t live in that world?”

Monika bridges the gap between them, coming forward to wrap her arms around Amelia’s waist, “I don’t think either of them are bread, but it's not up to me what name gets adopted by the people. It's probably a direct translation from your house anyway.” She doesn’t have proof of that — she really has no knowledge of the history of banana bread — but the thought makes her smile, so she takes a page out of Amelia’s book and chooses to believe it.

Amelia leans into her chest, humming thoughtfully. Monika waits patiently for her to decide where the conversation will go. If the pseudo-argument over another bread-esque item will continue, or if Amelia will turn back towards their new mission of making the most obscure baking recipes they can find on the internet.

Amelia looks up at her, lips pursed, “National Banana Bread Day is February 23. You’re welcome,” she teases. She’s decided to move on.

Monika shakes her head, “Oh, thank you sooo much. I would be lost if my country did not have banana bread.”

Amelia beams in response, “It would be a terrible world to live in. What would you eat with your banana juice and your banana milk then?”

They continue holding hands as they move on to the produce section.

The first step out of all their recipes is to soak the sauerkraut. They need to get as much of the pickling juice out as possible, so they start there and decide to finish the other recipes while that sits. In lieu of the usual aprons, they’ve dug out a couple old lab coats to enhance the scientific environment.

They do find an asparagus bread recipe online, courtesy of Michigan. Cinnamon and asparagus prove a less desirable combination than zucchini and cinnamon.

“It’s the texture,” Amelia speaks carefully around a mouthful, “it's cause the asparagus is diced while the zucchini is grated.” She swallows with a grimace, “There’s just something about eating a chunk of asparagus in a dessert out of nowhere that makes for a really unpleasant dessert. The zucchini is hardly noticeable, but with this it's like I’m chewing and there’s spices and it's sweet and then BAM! Asparagus!” Amelia shakes her head emphatically.

Monika refuses to speak with her mouth full, and she refuses to bad mouth asparagus, “Maybe we did not dice it small enough.”

The roles have reversed now. Amelia sticks out her tongue, “I was wrong earlier, not every veggie is better this way. This is the wrong way to eat asparagus.”

“It has potential.”

“Does it, babe?”

“I think the asparagus flavor comes through in a way reminiscent of lemon, and lemon is not uncommon in desserts.”

“With the cinnamon though?”

They set aside their most recent science experiment, but Monika bookmarks the recipe to revisit it later.

The next recipe they try is one Monika found.

“This isn’t….What?” Amelia stares at the list of ingredients in disbelief. Monika clutches the kitchen counter tightly. She can barely hold in her laughter. It’s a rare treat to find something that truly stuns Amelia into silence.

“‘By Monica’,” Amelia looks away from the screen for a moment to stare at Monika, “Did you do this?”

This sends Monika fully over the edge. Amelia is still looking at her, baffled, and all of it combined has Monika laughing harder than she has in a long time. Doubled over, stomach hurts, tears in her eyes laughing.

It's absurd and infectious and soon Amelia is laughing too. “How did you even find this?”

“I googled ‘eggplant bread’ and scrolled a little.”

“No, for real though, ‘Maple Chocolate Chip Eggplant Bread with Walnuts’? With rye flour? And olive oil?”

Monika rubs her eyes, “The thing that bothers me most is that the recipe is labeled ‘gluten free’, when any experienced baker knows rye contains gluten.”

“Hmm,” Amelia tilts her head, “maybe cause you can substitute for gluten free flour?”

Monika’s mood fully returns to equilibrium, and she sighs, “That’s just not how the chemistry works. You cannot just swap things as you please.”

“No, I get that,” Amelia says as she starts rummaging through Monika’s cabinets, “you have rye flour though, don’t you?”

The first problem might be that Monika does not like eggplant. Or dark chocolate. Or walnuts, if she’s being honest, so that doesn’t help things.

The bread is very dense. Bittersweet. An odd gray color. The eggplant is grated like the zucchini, so she can’t necessarily taste it, but she had never been inclined to desserts in this vein.

Earthy. She found it off-putting.

“Strange.”

Amelia chews pensively, no expression on her face. When she does speak, it's a surprise.

“I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Amelia turns to her, “like it's not a combination of ingredients I would come up with, but I like the flavor of geosmin.”

“You like the flavor of the smell of wet dirt?”

Amelia’s hands flutter around, “Well not literally wet dirt, but it’s… It’s satisfying. Deep, in a way.”

Monika is at a loss, “I think I will make regular rye bread next time. Maybe even banana bread,” Monika moves the loaf out of the way, “rye banana bread could be good.” “Maybe you’d like it more if you used white rye flour instead of pumpernickel?” Amelia snatches up another piece as Monika walks by.

“I think I would like it better without the eggplant,” Monika says dryly.

“You’re gonna get on Romano’s bad side again,” Amelia tsks, “don’t let him hear you talkin shit when he’s making melanzane al cioccolato.”

Monika looks back at her, leaning comfortably against the counter. Amelia has a spot of chocolate in the corner of her mouth. At some point another long furby mysteriously wrapped itself around one of her legs like a leg warmer.

Monika crosses her arms, “Romano makes eggplant and chocolate as a dessert?”

“Yeah, it's from Campania!”

Monika is skeptical. “Like eggplant parmesan, but instead of parmesan it's chocolate?”

By contrast, Amelia is entirely sincere, “It’s exactly like that!”

Now that the sauerkraut has finished soaking, and they’re baking an actual cake (that they agree is cake), they make frosting to go with it. Amelia works on the frosting while Monika prepares the cake batter. She has a long furby curled up and balanced on her head in place of her usual head band. Keeping the furby in place will probably be more distracting in the long run than her hair, but Amelia had laughed so sweetly when she had placed it on her head. “I have a gift for you,” she had said, with her mischievous smile

Monika couldn’t bring herself to take it off.

They’ve just put the cake in the oven when Julchen bursts in with an enthusiastic “Moin!” It's not a common greeting this far South, and so Julchen brings it out whenever she visits. She’s wearing overalls and her hair is tied up in a bun. It looks like there is red paint and grass stuck to her arms. Julchen immediately heads towards the shower. Amelia sends Monika a curious look, Why is she here?

Monika just shakes her head. She’s not sure herself, but she’s more interested in setting the timer for the oven anyway. Julchen drops by at random times when Monika is away from Berlin. Anywhere in Germany, her sister might show up. She’s even been followed on international trips a few times, but as long as Julchen doesn’t bring a bag of gummy bears near her bread pans again she sees no problem with it.

Amelia shrugs it off too. The running shower can be heard from the kitchen, but Monika becomes absorbed in doing the dishes and Amelia becomes absorbed in trying to distract her. She hands off utensils to be dried and instead Amelia stuffs them in her socks. She starts sneaking clean dishes into the sink to see if Monika will notice. At one point she tries to tie Monika’s ankles together with a towel, but she quickly abandons that plan when Monika accidentally steps on her fingers. Ironically, Amelia’s pained cry of “Son of a bitch!” is what distracts Monika most.

It is a surprise to them both when Julchen reappears. Her hair is loose and damp now, but she still has grass and paint stuck to her arms.

“Soooo, what is going on in here?” Julchen asks, observing the mess they’ve made of the kitchen, and the smell of baking cake mixed with the sour odor of sauerkraut hanging around in a persistent fog.

Instead of addressing the carnival of cooking horrors Monika has been immersed in, the first thing Monika thinks to say is, “Why did you bother taking a shower if you were not going to clean yourself?”

“I will wash it off eventually,” Julchen laughs, glancing at her arms, “for now, I earned this dirt fair and square. I wanna wear it a little longer.”

“Seriously though, what are you making?” Julchen asks again.

“Science!” Amelia exclaims at the same time as Monika bluntly states “A mistake.”

Monika’s attitude makes both Julchen and Amelia snicker. Monika smiles begrudgingly.

Julchen hops up to sit on the counter, feet resting on the handles of the kitchen drawers. Monika taps both her knees to remind her not to do that.

“So I assume this is the baking kind of science,” Julchen addresses Amelia, “what’s the actual deal?”

“Well, we were debating if zucchini bread, and other quickbreads, are actually bread or just cake. I contend that they are bread, Monika says they’re cake. Then we got kind of sidetracked backing a bunch of other stuff.”

Amelia’s answer is as serious as this whole day has been, which is to say ‘not very serious’. It makes Julchen’s reaction unexpected. Her face turns grim suddenly, and she blurts out, “That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

Monika is just pulling the cake out of the oven, but both she and Amelia are taken aback by Julchen’s statement.

Julchen observes them in silence for a long moment, but her eyes are unfocused. They drift between the laptop still displaying the recipe, the refrigerator in the corner, the electric light in the ceiling. Her attention is pulled through the glass doors of the balcony, to the tram driving by the apartment, and in the distance, the funicular up the Königstuhl.

Julchen shifts her stance. “I remember when that tram was pulled by horses,” she says. She’s mostly talking to herself, but it's quiet enough in the apartment that Monika and Amelia can hear her clearly.

“I remember when there weren’t trams at all,” Julchen turns to address them directly this time. Her chin is high, her brows low. Against the setting sun, she looks too serious for a discussion about cake.

Sometimes around nations, especially the older ones, when they recall their distant memories it feels like whatever slows down time for their pets affects other nations too. Time stood still for a moment. Monika and Amelia wait quietly in their lab coats, hardly moving.

Julchen looks directly at Monika, “You! Have you forgotten box cake mix was created in the 20th century?” Then towards Amelia, “And you! I can’t believe you’d try to defend yeast-less bread with zucchini bread when Boston brown bread is right there!”

“I don’t see what that has to do with this,” Monika says, confused by Julchen’s outburst.

“Quickbread only became possible with the invention of chemical leavening!” Julchen argues, “The kind used for box cake mix. We still had cake before that though, don’t you remember?”

Monika frowns deeply, gears turning in her head as Julchen continues, “Cake batter before chemical leavening was aerated through whipping eggs by hand, or yeast! They used yeast to make cakes before baking powder or soda! Gugelhupf, Monika, come on!”

Monika flinches, embarrassed to have forgotten how different things were, and that her sister knows so much more about Monika’s hobby when Julchen doesn’t even like baking. Seeing this, Julchen rounds on Amelia, who has been standing there absorbing all of Julchen’s obscure knowledge of baking history like a sponge (cake). Amelia continues smiling, even as Julchen sneers at her.

“Zucchini bread,” Julchen shakes her head with disgust, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I like squash,” Amelia’s response is untroubled.

Julchen scoffs, but there’s not much else she can say to that, other than arguing whether or not squash is good, and that would be an even bigger waste of her time. Amelia’s smile widens as she sees Julchen deflate.

“You raise an interesting point though,” Amelia interjects as she turns away. She takes each of their baked goods: the freshly baked sauerkraut cake, the maple eggplant chocolate bread, the asparagus bread, and the original, the zucchini bread. She sets them out side by side on the counter and says, “This is a real ‘alligators are birds’ situation, ain’t it?”

Monika sighs, “I suppose. It feels more like convergent evolution to me though. Everything evolves into crabs eventually.”

Julchen’s face twists, “You spent all day on this?”

Amelia smiles like a shark, “Well, now that you’re here you obviously have to try all of our creations, Julia. This totally normal chocolate cake is fresh after all.”

Julchen is smart enough to be suspicious, “What did you do to the cake?”

“Asking ruins the surprise, but we didn’t put anything that’s not usually food in it!”

Julchen is also too proud not to eat the cake.

According to Julchen, the sauerkraut tastes like coconut.

#gerame #ameger #hws america #hws germany #hws nyo germany #hws nyo america

11 notes · View notes

acidbathmf · 1 year

Text

Loving Machine

GN READERRRR

Pairings: Moon Boys x GN Native Reader

Summary: idk bro making native tacos skjsnm

Word Count: 577

Warnings: None

Notes at endd

Steven had just got back from a bit of a stressful day from his job at the museum and back to your guy’s shared apartment that he moved in not too long ago

To the smell of oil

As he walked over to the kitchen where you swayed you hips and sang to the music playing

The music was so loud you didn't hear his footsteps and the slight slam of the door

“Maddie Klien and her fabulous loving ma-(hey)AH”

You sang then got rudely interrupted by Steven suddenly touching your shoulder and greeting you

“jesus christ dude” you gasped as you put a hand on the counter behind you

“Oh sorry love” he giggled out “Yeah whatever i'm gonna burn this bread” you said as you turned back around to the stove as Steven turned the music down “what are you doing having a concert in here” as he turned back to you he asked “what are you making?” “hmm looks like sopaipillas am i right?”

Marc said out of the blue “haha no it's not sopaipillas sorry marc” you laughed “then what is it?”

“My famous frybread, my grandma taught me how to make it after years of asking but the first two I made taste like sopaipillas if u want that” you smirked and pointed your head in the direction where the bread was kept. “Oooh dont mind if i do” he cackled and wiggled his fingers walking toward the box, “there's only two so no more after that!” you reminded him as he nodded “si si me acuerdo”

{time skip a few mins later}

“Finally done with that” you sighed as you poured the left over oil the sink along with the pan

And grabbed another pan.

“More cooking?” Jake complained, “oh calm down you child dinner is almost ready” you snickered as you poured the taco meat into the pan “meat? You sure Steven is okay with that”. Marc questioned “I’m sure its fine my mom made it, its a vegan recipe”

You replied “ohhh ok” he paused for a second “what are you even making anyways?”

Jake wondered “tacoss” you said while stirring the meat while putting the seasoning in

“If your making tacos then where's the shells or whatever” “dude the shell is the frybread”

“Oh” “yeah anyways can u get the cheese and stuff for me?” you asked.

“Sure” he opened the fridge and looked inside for a bit “wait we have no stuff” “ugh really?” you said in disbelief “well looks like your gonna have to go get some then” “what? Why me?” he objected

“Come on pleaseee” you begged.

“Sure yeah fine whatever” “Thank you Marcc i'll send you a list” “a list??” he questioned

“Yes a list its short and i'll give you some money so don't worry man” you replied as you walked over to your jacket on the couch for your wallet “wait your giving me your money??” he asked

“Yes now take it before I change my mind, Spector,” you warned him “okay okay i'll be on my way” Marc said while grabbing the money “wait!” you said while dashing over to him

“Can you get me a drink at Starbucks?” you asked after giving him a kiss

On the cheek “yeah” he said while putting on his jacket, “hasta luego!”

“Yeah yeah shoo now” you said as you smiled and waved your hand as you turned your music back on.

NOTES TIME

IVE WANTED 2 WRITE A FIC 4 LIKE EVERR I WROTE A PT1 IN MY NOTE BOOK AND HALF OF A PT2 BUT I NOW ACTLY MADE IT I RANDOMLY CAME UP W THIS WHEN IN THE SHOWER LMAO btw this is so bad so srry yall

#x gn reader #x indigenous reader #x native reader #x male reader #x female reader #moonknight x reader #moonknight x gn reader #moonknight x female reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x male reader #steven grant x female reader #new writer

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captainrukias-husband · 2 years

Text

Day 01 - Warmth

Around half past ten, Orihime began to feel her eyelids grow heavy. The thick, heady atmosphere of the local bar had become overwhelming a couple of hours ago, but she had fought through it then on account of her friends. They were having a good time. She couldn't bring herself to ruin that.

If nothing else, she would need to see her best friend home safely. She had watched with bated breath as Tatsuki tossed back glass after glass of beer.

This wasn’t something they did, she and her friends, but it had been some time since they had all hung out and since that last time, not all of them had been of drinking age. As much as she had wanted to say no, she couldn’t deny their enthusiasm.

She’d been working on the same glass for the past two hours, truth be told. It was warm now, and hadn’t tasted very good to begin with. They were all half-tucked into a booth in some corner, and of course Tatsuki and Keigo were being particularly rowdy.

The bar itself was loud. Music blared, and several groups of salarymen shouted and laughed around them. This must have been a standard Friday night. Personally, after a work shift and a couple of classes, she felt a little too drained to be here.

Beside her, Tatsuki had begun to sing. Her body swayed against hers, hiccupping and giggling and shrieking when one of the boys chimed in with all the wrong words.

The booth formed a half-circle. The spot beside her had remained vacant most of the night, but right now, Ichigo scooted into that space as Keigo forced himself across the laps of their friends. His smile was an oasis, he leaned into her for a second to ask, “You okay, Inoue?”

“I’m okay,” she mumbled back, closing her fingers around her glass.

“Not really my scene, either,” he said.

She noted that he hadn’t had very much of his own drink.

“Wanna go outside for a bit?” he asked her.

After some shuffling around – forcing their friends out of the booth to let them out – they made their way out to fresh air.

It was the dead of winter. For the first moment or so she didn’t notice she’d forgotten her jacket. The cluttered heat of the bar had left her warm enough, but as they chose a spot away from the entrance, the chill began to shiver through her.

“How was work today?” he asked her. His jacket had also been left behind, but he managed to look much cozier than she felt. He wore a thick knitted sweater, patterned in black and dark gray, and a pair of old combat boots.

“It was okay,” she said, folding her arms against herself. She thought about leaving it at that, but the way he looked at her made her feel as if he knew there was more she wanted to say.

His smile was gentle and prompting, and his gaze was warm.

“My – My boss asked me how I felt about learning the trade a little more,” she said softly.

“More recipes?” he asked. His expression was telling. As much as he teased about the bread, he definitely never refused them.

“Well, the business aspect.” She rubbed her hands together, watching a group spill out from the bar. More salarymen, hanging off of each other for dear life. “I’ve been in charge of the marketing for a while – apparently! I thought posting on our social media accounts was just for fun, but he said it’s a big part of marketing. Today, he showed me our preferred vendors, then he showed me how we pay them. And then he showed me the budget and stuff.”

“He’s showing you how to run the business,” Ichigo said, brows raised. “Is he trying to promote you?”

“Not sure,” she murmured, before breathing onto her hands. “It was pretty quick. He had me back at the front end afterwards.”

“Would you want to run the business?”

“That’s the million dollar question,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Is this what I want? I can’t figure out what I want to study. It feels like I’ve hit a wall and I’m running out of time.”

“That’s not true,” he said softly. “You have plenty of time to decide.”

“I mean, you say that, but…”

“No, I mean that,” he continued. He had moved a little closer, and in the remaining space between them she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. She felt herself trembling, and she ground her teeth together to keep them from chattering. “You’re so smart, Inoue. You’ll figure it out, and even if you don’t…”

He hesitated, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say. His fingers curled and uncurled into the sleeve of his opposite arm, thinking, but he never continued the thought.

“Hey, buddy!” a foreign voice shouted at them.

They both jumped a little in response. The group that had spilled out of the bar had found a little spot in the middle of the street, half of them sitting on the ground and the other half trying to map their way back to their homes. And at that moment, one of them – sitting with his legs splayed and his shirt fully unbuttoned – was shouting at them both.

Face red, words slurred, he said specifically to Ichigo: “Buddy! Are you blind or something? Your girl is freezing her ass off out here! Share a little of that body heat, would you?”

Ichigo’s head jerked toward her, and before she could start in on reassurances and downplaying and such, he quickly took both her hands in his.

His warmth was blissful, and while she shut her eyes, allowing him to link his fingers through her own, he hissed at how cold her hands were. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he mumbled, pulling her hands toward him. He cupped them toward his mouth and she couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed when he started breathing warmth back into them.

“I barely noticed,” she said.

“Liar.”

A nervous giggle bubbled from her chest before she could help it.

“Let’s go inside.”

Tatsuki half stood on the seat, clutching Orihime’s coat in one hand and banging the other fist against the table. As soon as she spotted them she yelled, “There you are – forgot your jacket! What were you thinkin’!”

Ishida, who looked decidedly more sober than her, collected the coat before Tatsuki could spill anything with it. “I think it’s time we call it a night,” he said as he placed it in Orihime’s hands.

“One more round!” Keigo shouted over him.

Orihime shrugged on the coat as the waitress was flagged down. Outside, their friends spilled into separate cars. Mizuiro manned one, which even in Tatsuki’s state of mind she refused to get into. Sado, Ishida, and Keigo looked very much like a group of clowns squeezing into his sedan with him.

Ichigo manned the only other car. He half-carried Tatsuki – her arms wound about his neck as she mumbled nonsense into his ear – and tucked her into the backseat carefully. She sprawled across it, and for several minutes Ichigo struggled to get her to curl her legs into the car. Tatsuki giggled uncontrollably, kicking, and Ichigo cursed quietly as he caught at her ankles to stop her.

“Tatsuki,” Orihime chastised softly, reaching for her from the passenger seat. It settled her pretty quickly, and Ichigo was finally able to shut the door safely.

“Okay,” he sighed as he finally settled into the driver’s seat. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll have her stay the night with me,” Orihime said. “She might get a little sick tonight.”

“Good thinking,” he replied, and routed them to her apartment.

She led him into her room, where they carefully tucked Tatsuki into bed. “Thanks for helping,” she said as she shut out the lights.

“Don’t mention it,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Just wanted to see you home.”

“Are you thirsty or anything?” she asked, smiling.

He thought about it. “Do you have anything warm?”

.x.

#ihweek2022 #ichihime #ichiori #my fanfic #fanfic #my fic

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