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zeltqz · 2 years

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who’s caving first? || haruchiyo sanzu.

S U M M A R Y: When Sanzu only wants to spend time with his sister to get to her best friend .

W A R N I N G S - oral sex (face sitting), haruchiyo is desperate, so is reader, senju is innocent bless her, rough sex, fem!reader, pet names, teasing, sexual tension, slight enemies to lovers —you gotta squint tho—

W O R D C O U N T - 6K YEEAH

N O T E S - im actually really proud of this. HEHEHE HOPE U GUYS LIKE <333333. Also if there’s any typos pls ignore. I’m so tired rn

T A G G I N G - @magentaviolette @gajeelstan @nalyana @luvhaitani @keisaint @imjustaweirdnerd

“…chiyo. Haruchiyo!”

Sanzu snaps his head up to his sister as she’s giving him a confused yet disappointed look. “What?”

“What?” Senju scoffs, “what do you mean what? You asked to come over for ‘bonding time’, now you’re not even paying attention!! What the hell Haruuuu--“

Ugh. She’s whining again. Haruchiyo fights the urge to tell her to shut up, instead he puts on his best poker face. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.” He continues swiping the egg wash on the crust of the pastry.

“Hm, with what?” Senju rolls the dough between her hands, cringing at the way the flour sticks under her acrylics. It’s going to be a pain to clean that up later.

“My…thoughts.”

He’s not lying. If his thoughts were a person called Y/N, then he’s on point. It’s hard for him to focus on literally anything from the way at this angle he’s standing at, he has perfect access to Senju’s backyard. By the pool, you’re too engrossed by your phone to notice the way he is staring at you from over the top of Senju’s head.

Ah, great. He’s distracted again, too focused on the way your feet are kicking the water from where you sit at the pool ledge. Each splash generates a ripple that flows for a couple seconds before disbanding. It’s not the water physics he’s distracted by.

It’s what you’re wearing .

Of course it wouldn’t be appropriate to be wearing something baggy and flimsy during summer—especially if you’re by a pool. But you really didn’t have to wear something so revealing. It’s killing him inside knowing that you’re off limits because you’re ‘Senju’s friend’. That stupid rule made by literally nobody but society. He’s not sure if Senju cares or not if he fucks you, but it’s still an awkward thing to ask someone.

Sanzu looks down at the small bowl where the egg wash is—was. Now empty as he’s been mindlessly brushing the liquid onto each pastry that Senju placed onto the tray.

“Oh, is it finished?” Senju has to place her hands on the counter to lift herself up a little bit to see over the bowl from where its placed by Haruchiyo. The empty carton of eggs next to his hands also catching her eye. “We ran out of eggs too… Y/N!”

“What?!” You call from outside, still engrossed in your phone. The slightest faintest smile is on your face as you bite your lip reading your messages.

Haruchiyo can feel his fingers tighten against the handle of the basting brush. His lips curling downwards into a frown, eyes narrowing when he sees you giggle into your palm. Who the fuck are you talking to--

“I need you to go to the store for me!” Senju’s loud voice reminds Haruchiyo to keep his poker face back up, masking his true hidden intentions, the real reason why he came here.

No, he doesn’t care about bonding time with his sister, nor does he care for some goddamn pastries. What he does care about, is getting a taste of you, a glimmer of body underneath him, hear your moans as he fucks you slowly—or do you like it rough and hard? He can feel his cock twitch in his pants when you enter through the sliding doors, readjusting your bikini top straps over your shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way the strap exposed a little bit of your right boob from the movement.

“Store? For what?” You don’t pay Haruchiyo anymind at all, and he doesn’t like it. Maybe because you know what he’s here for or maybe because you just don’t like him. The second option seems more appropriate—the first option would only suffice if you were a mind-reader or psychic (highly unlikely).

It’s safe to say that Haruchiyo isn’t the most approachable person. You initially tried to become his friend now that you were best friends with his sister, but he never showed you any mind.

Maybe it’s because of the way you dressed? Looking back, three years ago, you weren’t the best dressed… only wearing baggy shirts and trousers to cover up because the boys at your school were complete total perverts. Senju understood, she even joined you in the baggy shirt gang club whatever stupid nickname you both called it.

It was dumb, you looked homeless at times, wearing clothes twice your size with no makeup done because who were you trying to impress? That’s probably the reason you think Haruchiyo doesn’t like you.

According to Haruchiyo’s sources—it was correct. He hated the way you dressed, because you reminded him of his god-awful sister. The two of you would wear the same hideously big clothes and it just looked awful. He hated it. He hated you. He hated his sister.

Hanging out with the Haitani’s (not willingly—it was more mandatory by Manjiro, to get along for the ‘gang’s sake’) altered his taste in women. Haruchiyo was never one to chase after a woman, like Ran’s sorry ass, or go on his knees and propose to a girl like Rindou’s desperate ass.

But it was quite clearly obvious that the three of them lived very different lifestyles. Haruchiyo had a simple timetable to follow. Fight. Kill (sometimes). Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Boring lifestyle—sure. But he was satisfied.

The Haitani’s, on the other hand. Go out. Party. Clubs. Sleep with a random chick from said club. Sleep (especially Ran). Simp (cough Rindou). Repeat. It was crazy, but they aren’t called the Rulers of Roppongi for no reason.

It was tiring at first, being out with them almost all day until Ran decided it was time for his slumber. But gradually, he started to enjoy it. He even found himself attending a club on his own once. After a lapdance from one girl and a bunch of hickies from another (at the same time), he then came to the realisation that he loves women.

Loves them so, so much.

So when he saw you, without that ridiculous outfit, for the first time. His dick twitched, and he knew what time it was. Sadly enough…the damage was already done. You hated his guts and you assumed he still hated yours after three years of slandering you along with his pain in the ass sister.

It was a bit hurtful, to hear those crude comments about your clothes.The only thing keeping you afloat was you knowing that you didn’t actually dress that way--only to keep all the boys staring another direction and not at your body.

The second you graduated high school, you never wore those hideous outfits again.

“Eggs. Like two more cartons, I think. No--no scratch that. One carton is fine.” Senju washes her hands under the sink, trying to get all the flour and batter off her hands so she can grab her wallet and give it to you.

“One box, okay…” You’re still on that stupid phone. Put the phone down. “The small box or big box?”

“No. Not box, carton! Don’t come back here with 40 eggs in a big box, we’re not a farm. And put the phone down!”

You sigh and turn off your phone. The click your phone made as the screen went black made Sanzu almost shed tear from sheer joy. He silently thanks Senju for that, because now he gets to see your pretty face not smiling down at whoever the fuck you’re texting.

“Okay! One carton. Six eggs or twelve?” You reach your hand out, grabbing Senju’s contactless card from her grasp. The second that card is in your hands, you’re already pulling your phone back out, distracted by another notification.

Sanzu can never win.

“Six. I’m almost done with these pastries. I’m gonna go pack now.” Senju hurries up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

You can feel him staring at you, despite your eyes fixated on your phone. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable now, feeling his piercing green eyes burn holes into your skull, as if he’s waiting for you to say something. A puff of air escapes your nose as you look up at him, not noticing the way he flicks his gaze up from your chest to your eyes—trying to seem as respectable as possible.

“Do you want something from the store?” You don’t really care if he does or not--you just felt the need to say something to dispose of the awkward air in the room.

“Nah.” He’s about to run a hand through his hair, only stopping halfway when he can feel the stickiness of the eggs practically glueing his fingers together. “I’ll just wait till you come back.”

“Yeah… speaking of. How long are you planning to stay here? Because Senju leaves for her trip in three hours.”

He shrugs from the sink. “Dunno. I’ll stay however long I want. I pay for this house.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “Actually, Omi does.”

Omi? Oh--his pain in the ass brother. “I own Takeomi, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but cringe at the nickname. He’s getting way too comfortable for your own good. Sanzu dries his hands using a paper towel, then makes his way onto the couch. For some reason, your eyes follow him the entire time, even subconsciously walking over to the wall that divides the kitchen and the living room, leaning against it as you watch him kick his feet up onto the glass table in front of him.

“You’re getting awfully cosy. You staying a while?”

However long it takes until I fuck you.

“Yeah, think so.”

There’s a thump on the couch next to him as you plop down, resting Senju’s card on the back of your phone case in your right hand. “Any reason for that?”

Sanzu literally cannot focus, cannot keep his eyes on your face—your pretty face. Not the way you’re body is on display like this. He thanks the world for a little something called peripheral vision, making side eye contact with your tits as he’s looking dead in your eye.

Fuck, they look so pretty, even from the blurred angle. He wonders how they’d feel in his mouth. Are your nipples hard and perky? Or soft and supple? Wonders how they’d feel in his mouth, wonders how they’d feel pushed up against his cock.

He’s never been tit-fucked before, but he can picture it now. You, on your knees in front of him as you press your tits together, sliding them up and down his cock to milk hi cum. Fuck—would you lick the cum off your face, or would you let him cum on your tits.

He has to calm down, he can literally feel himself getting harder as he loses himself in his thoughts. “Reason for what?”

“Reason for staying as long as you want?” You stop and shift so you’re facing him fully now, your arm resting along the back of the couch.

This angle is even worse. Now he can see the curve of your body from top to bottom.

“I mean,” he also shifts so he’s facing you fully, “I could say the same about you. After all, this is Senju’s house. You’re also a visitor.”

“But, I’m her friend .”

“And I’m her brother.”

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you as he talks to you that has you wanting to rub your thighs together. But you know if you did, he’d catch on rather quickly. The last thing you’d want is for him to have something to taunt you with.

Those three years were painful enough.

You glare up at him, fingers tightening against your phone before standing up. “I’m going to change.”

Before he could even protest, he was forcefully silenced as he watched you walk away. The view from the back was even better than the front. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself before sinking back into the leather couch.

He drags his eyes along his sweats, thanking his past self for choosing black sweats today instead of grey. What’s worse than having a boner in grey sweats is being caught having a boner in grey sweats.

He’s managed to get rid of his boner by the time you’ve come down the stairs, dressing in a simple black hoodie and some matching joggers.

He’s missing the sight of your body already.

“Okay, I’m going now.”

The time it takes you to run to the store and back is enough time for Senju to finish packing her bags, asking her brother to help her carry it outside to her car while she takes the pastries out from the oven. Fresh and hot, she packed them in three big clear containers before shoving them inside a plastic bag.

By the time you walk in through the door, the smell of fresh break and cookies make your mouth water. Then you frown, realising you went all that way for some eggs just for Senju to finish baking. “What the hell, Senju? What did I buy this for?”

“I’m sorry!! I read the timing wrong, I’m supposed to be there in an hour from now, and--” Sanzu places his hand on her shoulder, calming her down.

“Relax. Go, take your pastries and have fun with your friends.”

He tries his hardest to sound as caring as possible—in actuality he just wants her out of the house now. He finds you’re much easier to break down and get under your skin when Senju isn’t around. This icy cold exterior you create only when she’s there.

Typical. Acting big and bad in front of a friend, but crumble the moment they’ve left.

He can’t wait to push your limits.

You wave goodbye to Senju and lock the door behind you. Heading straight over to the kitchen, you empty the bag you got from the store, placing the eggs over by the side and taking out your packet of gummies you bought for yourself as a reward for going all that way for Senju.

She wouldn’t mind if you bought a small treat for yourself.��

You decide to stay in the clothes you went out in, too lazy to go upstairs and change into your pyjamas when what you’re already wearing is comfortable. You manage to watch an entire season of your favourite show, munching on your gummy bears while guessing the flavour as you blindly chew them. A little game you came up with to keep yourself occupied.

It’s not until it’s dark outside, the flickering lights outside by the pool illuminating to light up the backyard. You notice it’s been fairly quiet around the house—and that’s odd because you have a visitor.

You haven’t seen him since Senju left, and that was-- you pick up your phone from where it was sitting next to your legs and turn it on to read the time--yeah, it’s been almost 8 hours since she left and there’s been no sign of him.

That’s odd.

The flicker from one of the bulbs outside catches your eye, reminding you it’s time to head upstairs. That light always creeps you out whenever you’re over here. Grabbing your blanket and your phone, you start to make your way up the stairs to Senju’s room.

She allows you to sleep there whenever you’re staying over. Your roommates over at your house are too annoying to deal with, so you come over to hers to lay off steam. You weren’t expecting her older brother to be here though.

Humming the theme song of the show you were watching, you reach the top of the staircase, only to bump into a hard figure. Your eyes were so fixated on the ground you didn’t notice Sanzu was actually on his way downstairs, preoccupied on his own phone.

The reason you almost stumbled down the stairs wasn’t because of the contact, but instead the shiver tracing a slow line down the length of your spine as you stared up at him shirtless. The initial shock is what causes you to almost stumble down, but then he reaches out quickly, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you back up to the top.

“Y’alright?” It’s a simple question that deserves a simple answer. It’s a shame your brain isn’t functioning at the moment, eyes too focused on the way the water from the shower he just took drips down his chest, tracing over the very faint lines of his abs. To be honest--you were not expecting this. He never seemed like the type to work out, a very lanky individual, but the physique he wears is almost perfect.

His body is nothing too flashy, yet you can already imagine placing your hands on his chest, running your fingers through the indents of his faint ab outline. The water drops just make it even hotter aswell—your dirty brain replaces that with the moisture coming from your tongue as you mark up his chest with kisses.

You shake your head. No, this is wrong. This is your best friend's brother, but he’s so hot— “No.”

“What?”

You snap your mouth shut, realising you spoke out loud. Sanzu looks down at you, a confused glimmer in his eye as he tightens his hold on your wrist, repeating his question. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Oh.” Yeah, m’alright. You forget to voice the words outloud, only realising you spoke in your head when Sanzu doesn’t let go of your wrist, actively seeking your answer. “Fuck--sorry I gotta go.” His grip on your wrist slips rather easily as you slide your body past his to get past the stairs, heading straight towards Senju’s room.

Your body makes contact with the door as you lock it from behind you and slide down the door onto the floor. You fight the urge to scream into your hands. You’re a sick human being. Thinking about kissing your best friend’s brother’s chest? Do you have no shame?

It’s embarrassing. Senju’s been such a great person to you throughout your entire friendship, and to think this is how you repay her. You slide into her bed, hoping and praying that these thoughts were a one-time thing. When you wake up tomorrow, he will be ugly Sanzu again--the one that makes your blood boil just hearing his name, the one who’s so hideously attractive it makes your thighs rub together to stop that tingle from reaching your pussy.

That Sanzu .

Morning comes and you’re eager to go downstairs, hoping that your prayers have been answered. Sanzu would be back to being hideous and you could spend your week here in peace with 0 dirty thoughts. Easier said than done right?

He’s still shirtless. All morning. Afternoon too. And evening.

This is getting ridiculous at this point. Like it is hot outside, but to be shirtless all fucking day? C’mon. He has to be doing this on purpose. He must’ve seen the way your brain short circuited last night on the staircase with just a glimpse of his chest that was even barely visible due to the darkness from the lack of lightbulbs in the hallway.

He has to be doing this on purpose.

You disregard everything your brain was convincing you not to do yesterday, and chose to walk around the next day in just a t-shirt and panties. Is this a little weird? Yes. Are you going to stop? No. You could feel his gaze on you—well on your ass and thighs, the t-shirt riding up your thighs with every movement you made, exposing more of your skin to him.

Sanzu couldn’t help but think you had beaten him at his own game. It’s no secret he did walk around shirtless to try and fluster you, but you managed to compose yourself. But him right now? Seeing you in just a tight shirt with straight up panties underneath—fuck they were black too. His weakness.

He can’t take it anymore. It’s only been a couple hours and he’s already giving up on the imaginary game you both created.

“Turn around.”

You pause your movements, hand frozen over the freezer door. Over the curve of your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you, wearing a shirt this time. It’s a shame honestly, but you’re not complaining. No more temptation.

“What do you want?” You choose to ignore him, bending down to the bottom shelf of the freezer to pull out a popsicle. It was extra hot today, you needed something cold to suck on. You know he’s staring at your shirt as it lifts up over your ass, exposing your panties on full display. You know the popsicles are in the top drawer--but that doesn’t stop you.

By the time you grab the one you wanted, you take a stand up and take a step back to close the freezer door only to walk right into his chest. You’re about to make a witty smark remark about how he needs to learn personal space, when he leans forward, his chest pressing against your back. The words die down in your throat as he practically pushes you up against the freezer. His hands slide down your body slowly, too slow for your liking. His fingers slide down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slightly before sliding his fingers up your stomach. You can’t breathe like this, breaths come out heavy as you try to focus on the feeling of his hands tracing onto your stomach. They leave your stomach, sliding down to your hips where he dips a finger underneath the fabric, lightly touching your skin with soft touches that have you burning up with heat.

His fingers feel so… you can’t even describe it. It’s only a couple touches and you already feel your panties getting damper with every lingering touch he gives you. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as he begins to press kisses down your neck. From this angle, it’s a little uncomfortable having to strain your neck all the way back to give him more access--but it’s worth it. It’s so worth it. His soft lips feel 100x better than the simple touches of his fingers.

You swear the heat radiating off your body is enough to match the weather outside, you feel the packet of your popsicle start to drip as it starts melting.

You bite back a moan as his fingers slide down to your panties, about to press onto your clit before the heat suddenly disappears and it’s now you can feel the cold press of the popsicle packet digging into the skin of your fingers. Coming back to your senses, you lift your head back from his shoulder and open your eyes. You didn’t even realise you had closed them. Fucking Haruchiyo .

“Excuse me,” he says, opening the freezer door. You stand there, jaw dropped to the ground as you watch him pull out a packet of frozen peas from the drawer.

“Are you—are you kidding me?”

“What?” He asks almost like he’s genuinely confused as to why you’re reacting this way.

“Why did you-- you kissed me!”

“I needed to get past the freezer.” He laughs, biting his bottom lip as he watches your whole world unravel and fall apart. It’s working. Ran’s advice is working. Get her needy and desperate for you, then she’ll come begging to you for more. He can see it in your eyes if your voice wasn’t enough evidence as is. The way it wavers ever so lightly, voice a tad bit higher than your normal pitch, the way your chest is still rising and falling faster than usual. This was so brilliant.

“You don’t s-seduce people into moving out of the way, Sanzu.”

The stutter? God, you were easier to break apart than he thought. “Yeah?” He steps closer to you, towering over you as he watches you try your best to keep a decent poker face on, meeting him head on with a stern expression, only to fail the moment his hands land on your hips. “Who said I was seducing you? That sounds like a you problem right there.”

Oh this fucker . You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s met his match alright, thinking he can play you, then get you to question whether or not your feelings are real or not from his actions.

“It’s not?” You alter your voice slightly, getting on your tiptoes to make your move—or better yet leave your mark. You brush your lips against his neck ever so slightly, feeling him tense up as the hot air from your nose tickled his skin. Holding the popsicle in one hand, you use the other to run your fingers through his long hair, kissing the smooth skin on his neck ever so lightly. Using the same feather light he kisses he littered all over your body.

Sanzu bit his lip, grip on your hips tightening as he felt your lips move across the sensitive skin on his neck with his ease. He almost moans when you kiss up to his jaw, tongue licking a stripe up his skin before tracing the length of his jawline with kisses.

The moment you reached his chin, you pulled back slightly, looking him eye to eye as your lips practically brushed against his own. “Hi.” You whisper, dropping your eyes from his own down to his lips, those same ones that were on your body not that long ago.

His eyes scan over your face, lingering a little too long on your own lips. It makes you feel naked and vulnerable under his stare. It’s overwhelming, yet you find yourself leaning closer, and closer. Your lips touch, but it’s not a kiss.

You almost have him. So close.

The moment he’s leaning forward, you’re pulling back, arms stretched out as you yawn loudly. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

You don’t even get the opportunity to walk away, leaving your plan ticked off with 100% completion, because his fingers are grabbing onto your chin, forcing you to face him as he presses his lips against your own.

In case you tried some slick shit again, he locks you in with a huge hand on your hip as he works his mouth against yours. You drop your popsicle, it lands on the floor with a squelch next to the frozen peas.

The second it hit the floor, your hands were on him, grabbing onto his hair to scratch at his scalp as he kissed you feverishly. “Fuck…I’ve wanted this—f-for so long.” He pants against your lips, not even giving you a second to respond as his lips are back on your own in a heated makeout.

Your response is faint whimpers and moans as he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, licking and sucking his way into your greedy mouth. He has an iron grip on your hips as he lifts you up and off the ground, your legs immediately wrap around his waist for support.

You’re being placed onto the couch, back hitting the soft cushions as you scramble up on your elbows to watch as he strips his shirt off. You don’t get time to look at his chest properly this time when his hands wrap around your ankles, tugging you closer to him. You slide off your elbows, back onto your back as he’s hovering over you.

“I wanna get this done quickly--” he’s unbuckling his pants and you watch as he can’t even be bothered to pull them down all the way down and off his legs, reaching inside his back pocket to pull out a condom. “Wanna do the honours?”

You frown, puffing out your upper lip as you grab the condom from his hands, sitting upright as you pull his boxers down. His fingers find themselves on your face, cupping your cheek as he looks down at you, “Why’re poutin’?”

“Because…I expected—y’know…”

“I don’t know.”

You rub your thighs together and watch as his eyebrows raise. “Ah, I get it now.” He takes the condom from your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he pushes you back down onto your back. “You one of those, right?”

“One of what?”

“Foreplay bitches, always want to be carressed and shit, ‘m I right?”

Isn’t that the bare minimum..?? You slowly nod your head and watch him chuckle, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute Y/N. I’ve never done foreplay before, but I’ll try it, for you. Kay?”

“Okay…”

You let him kiss you again, and you can tell he’s genuinely trying this time, his lips feel more tender as they slide against yours. The hairs on his neck stand up when he hears the deep satisfied sigh you let out, hands climbing up his face to cup at his cheeks.

He has a hand sliding down your body to your panties, hooking a finger underneath, pulling back just as fast as it snaps against your skin. You squeal into the kiss, his tongue easily sliding in the moment your mouth opens.

You eagerly suck on his tongue as his fingers slide up your shirt, resting directly atop your boob. He pulls away with a satisfied smirk on his face, “No bra?”

“It’s hot.” You feel him squeeze your boob, moulding it in his hands as he half heartedly listens to what your excuse is.

��If it’s that hot, you shoulda jus’ walked ‘round shirtless.” He’s sliding your shirt up and over, your arms lift up to allow him to fully remove it. “Fuck—knew you had nice tits.”

“I do?”

“Um, yah.” His chuckle is breathless, seeing you splayed out beneath him…so lewd,so sexy. Just like he’d pictured. Your breasts on full display,all for him. He latches and sucks on your nipple a bit too rough from what you’re used to, but you strangely like it. Liking the way his teeth scrape against your skin, the way his flicks your nipple with his tongue at a pace that shouldn’t even be possible.

“Oh my god—haru..” You breathe, scowling when he laughs against your nipples. The hot air from his nostrils doing nothing but adding more sensation to your sensitive buds, muscles flexing causing your breast to twitch inside his mouth.

He continues his ministrations, sliding a hand down past your panties, pressing up against your slit. You can feel him barely digging into your folds, only a light press, can feel the slick sticking to his finger as he drags his hand away from your cunt. You watch with open eyes as he puts it in his mouth---a taste test.

Something changes inside him. He’s sitting up, dragging you along with him roughly. He’s positioning himself to lay down and you think you can tell what’s about to go down.

“No.”

“Don’t be a pussy.” He grabs at your hips and pulls you towards him. There’s enough of a gap between your pussy and his face, sliding through that said gap so he’s looking directly up at your clothed pussy.

“Sit on my face.”

“N-no.”

“Why not.” You gasp when he peels your panties aside, a soft gasp leaving his mouth when he sees just how wet you are.

“I-it’s embarrassing ..”

He looks around the room dramatically, fingers still digging through your folds carelessly. “Nobody’s here but us princess, now--” He grabs your hips, ignoring your yelp in favour of tugging you flush against his face, “Fuck—that’s it.”

He begins to eat you out, tongue sliding up and down your folds, loud moans leaving both your mouths; yours are almost sobs, the way he’s fucking into your cunt with his tongue, lips circling around your clit.

“Fuck—you taste, s’good—s’amazin’ for me.”

“H-haru! Ohmy--“ you’re fighting the urge to rut your hips down, not wanting to suffocate him. Hell, he’d probably like that---the sick bastard. “Yes, yes yes.” You chant over and over again, shamelessly rutting your cunt harder onto his face, to get the feeling of his nose brushing against your clit. “Shit! I’m close—Haru—I’m--“

He moans as he feels your walls clench around his tongue, briefly pulling out to stuff a finger inside, moving at the same pace his tongue was. You moan out his name as you cum on his face, riding out your orgasm as he suctions around your clit, lapping up your juices from your cunt.

“That was so hot.” He lifts you up and over him, resting you beneath him. He grabs the condom where it dropped on the couch and rips it open, rolling it down his length. He hooks his arms under your thighs to spread you out more, enjoying the view of you spread out, cunt wet and pulsating with the need to be filled.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Put it in please--“

You scream when he slams himself inside with a simple thrust, his cock curving in all the right directions, tears pool in your eyes as you’re unable to adjust to the stretch of his cock.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare yourself, time was already ticking with all that foreplay. He needs to feel you cum around his cock now. His speed is fast, calculated, each slap of his hips against yours reaching directly into your cervix.

You’re loud. Louder than you’ve ever been before.

“God—so hot, think I’m gonna cum soon--“ his voice is strained as he fixes his gaze on his cock as it slides in and out of you. He’s holding your legs apart by the ankle, spreading you out in the way he seeks fit.

You’re not prepared for when he suddenly pressed downwards, folding you in two as he continues his hard thrusts. The couch is shaking as you moan his name out, over and over, the power behind each thrust is harder than the last.

His rhythm is getting sloppier, you can feel his cock twitching inside you that you know he’s close. What’s his next move--? Will he come inside you? Or pull out and cum on your face? He seems like the type to enjoy facials.

“S-sanzu--“ you whimper when he looks down at you, “cum on me… please.” You don’t care where at this point--as long as it’s not inside. You’re not ready for that yet.

“Fuck,” he grunts, throwing his head back and repositioning his hips to slam harder into you. You grip onto the nearest cushion, grip so tight you swear you can rip the fabric off if you tried hard enough. “That’s it—cum around my cock, sexy.”

You can’t help it, body spazzing violently as you hide your face with the cushion, muffling out your moans as you cum on his cock.

His movements still and he’s quick to pull out of you, ripping the condom off and tossing it somewhere across the room. His hands are fast, jerking himself off before he throws his head back, moaning quite loudly as he splashes ropes of cum on your chest, aiming for your nipples but some lands on your stomach.

“Oh my god.” He watches with wide eyes and heavy breaths as you dip your fingers onto the pool of cum on your chest, scooping some up with two fingers, stuffing them into your mouth, moaning obscenely around your fingers as you suck the residue off.

“Next time,” you take another scoop, but instead of eating it, you play with it, stretching your fingers far apart to see how far it stretches before it eventually snaps, “next time cum inside me.”

“Next time?” He leans forward to kiss you, groaning a bit at the salty taste of his cum, but it fades away with the way you’re licking into his mouth. You hum and nod into the kiss, fingers sliding behind his back to leave scratch marks that have him shuddering.

You break the kiss to bite at his bottom lip, “Yeah, next time.”

Sanzu thought this would be a one time thing—hit and dip—as the old saying goes. But seeing you there, looking up at him so deviously—he doesn’t think he can fuck another woman that’s not you again.

#—tr </3 #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo smut #haruchiyo smut #sanzu smut #sanzu haruchiyo x you #tokrev sanzu #tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev smut #sanzu scenarios #sanzu imagines #zeltqz

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copperbadge · 1 year

Text

airmidcelt

I realllllly want to try making bread, do you have a yeast bread recipe rec for a beginner? I have a stand mixer that I want to use.

I have many recipes! I’m throwing a handful behind the cut. I’m including Beer Bread, Hokkaido “Milk” Bread, and King Arthur Bagels.

I will say that I’ve yet to have a bad recipe from the King Arthur website, so if you’re looking for bread recipes that’s a great resource, and any recipe that asks you to knead bread for any length of time will work in a stand mixer -- generally, you should stir the ingredients by hand until reasonably incorporated, then attach the dough hook and knead.

A note -- using bread flour instead of all-purpose really does make a difference in the quality of the bread. All-purpose is fine, but you’ll get a better and more consistent product with bread flour. I also add King Arthur’s “Bread and Cake Improver” to make for a fluffier crumb and softer crust.

Beer Bread

adapted from https://www.agardenforthehouse.com/rustic-beer-bread-hand-kneaded/

4 cups (555 grams) bread flour

2 teaspoons (7 grams) instant yeast

2 teaspoons (12 grams) salt

12 ounces (341 ml) beer of your choice at room temperature (uh maybe stay away from pale ales, they get real skunky)

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Now, I was baking with Off-Colour’s beer, which comes in 16oz cans, so if you have a 16oz can of beer, the amounts are:

694g Bread Flour

2 1/2 tsp yeast

2 1/2 tsp (16g) salt

16oz beer

1 1/4 tbsp olive oil

If you do this larger recipe, it’s best to make two loaves, or one loaf and one batch of rolls.

Stir together the flour, yeast, and salt in the mixer’s bowl and make a well in the middle. Add the beer and olive oil, and stir until a stiff, shaggy dough develops. Knead for 10 minutes (I use a dough hook in the stand mixer on low to medium speed, works fine).

Transfer the dough to a large greased bowl, flip to grease its other side, and then cover the bowl with clingfilm or a damp towel. Let the dough rise in a warm location until doubled in volume -- 90 minutes to 2 hours.

When the dough has doubled in volume, punch it down, pat it out, and form it into a tight ball. Pinch the seam to seal it. Then place the ball seam side down in a greased bowl. Cover and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in volume -- usually 30 to 45 minutes.

While the dough is rising, place a heavy, oven-proof pot (covered with its lid) on the lower-third level of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Generally people will use cast-iron dutch ovens for this, but I’ve also used an aluminum dutch oven, which is quite light and doesn’t hold as much heat; it still works fine. This dough is very versatile and will also do fine in a loaf pan without a cover, just keep an eye on the browning.

When the dough is ready, remove the pot from the oven. Flip the dough into the pot, its seam side now facing up. Cover the pot with its lid, and return it to the oven.

Bake for 30 minutes. Uncover the pot, lower the oven temperature to 400°F, and bake until the crust browns -- 10-15 minutes. Transfer the bread to a wire rack. Cool completely before slicing.

Hokkaido Milk (Tangzhong) Bread

This is a softer, fluffier bread, more like store-bought. It has one or two extra steps but is still a pretty versatile, low-skill dough.

Tang:

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup milk

3 tbsp flour

1 large egg, room temp

1/2 cup cold milk

Dough:

2 2/3 cups flour (390g)

1/4 cup sugar (35g)

2 tbsp dry milk powder, optional (15g)

1 tsp salt

2 1/4 tsp yeast

4 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

In a small saucepan off heat, whisk together the first three Tang ingredients. Heat over medium heat, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens and streaks from the whisk do not disappear. Remove from heat and pour in the remaining cold milk. Whisk to combine. Add the egg and whisk to combine.

Mix together all of the dry ingredients (all “dough” ingredients except butter) in a stand mixer bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the tang, then stir until combined. Attach dough hook and continue to knead with dough hook on low speed.

After 5 minutes on low speed, the dough will be very sticky, sticking to the sides of the bowl. This means the gluten has started to develop. Add the softened butter in 3 additions, allowing to incorporate fully. Between additions, scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula if needed. The butter will look like it's not being absorbed by the dough but be patient, it will.

Once all the butter is incorporated into the dough, increase the speed to medium (4 or 5) and let dough knead for 6-8 minutes, scraping down the bowl occasionally. The dough is done when it no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl. It will be smooth and should very easily come off from the sides of the bowl.

Remove dough from mixing bowl and shape into a ball. Return to mixing bowl and cover with cling film/tea towel and let rise until doubled in size (either at room temperature for ~2 hours or overnight ~12-14 hours in fridge).

After dough has proofed, remove covering and gently deflate the dough by scraping down the sides with a spatula. Remove from bowl. You can bake this as a loaf, just shape and put in a greased loaf pan, or divide into 14-16 portions depending on size and shape into balls with floured hands, then place in a greased dish. I use a cast-iron skillet but a casserole dish will work too, or even a cookie sheet.

Cover with greased clingfilm or foil and let dough rise at room temperature until doubled in size (~up to 2 hours).

Preheat oven to 350F. Brush the top of the bread with egg wash if desired. Bake for 20-30 minutes. If the bread starts to brown too quickly, cover the top with foil paper to prevent bread from burning. Remove from oven and let cool.

And finally for something a little more complicated, the King Arthur “sandwich” bagel recipe: There are more thorough instructions at the KA website.

King Arthur Bagels

Starter:

1 cup (120g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/16 teaspoon instant yeast

1/3 cup (75g) water, cool

Dough:

3/4 cup (170g) water, room temperature

2 teaspoons (14g) barley malt syrup or 1 tablespoon (13g) dark brown sugar, packed

3/4 teaspoon instant yeast

1 1/4 teaspoons salt

2 1/2 cups (300g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

Water bath:

8 cups (1808g) water (I just fill the pan I’m using half-full and don’t bother measuring this)

2 tablespoons (42g) barley malt syrup or honey (I use brown sugar, works fine)

Knead together starter ingredients until thoroughly combined in a stiff dough (you can use the dough hook but it doesn’t work super well, I usually just stir it until it’s stiff). Cover and rest at room temperature for 4 to 14 hours; it should expand. I do this in the bowl of the stand mixer because why not?

Add remaining dough ingredients in the order listed, on top of the starter. Knead the stiff dough until it’s supple and elastic, 8-10 minutes with a mixer. Rest, covered, 2 hours.

Divide into eight equal pieces (80g to 85g each; I prefer mini bagels of roughly 40g each). Shape each piece by forming it into a ball, then rolling on an unfloured surface to tighten. Cover the pre-shaped dough and allow it to rest for 10 to 15 minutes.

Line a baking sheet with parchment and lightly grease, or sprinkle the parchment with cornmeal. To shape dough, poke a hole through the center and rotate to expand the hole, forming a ring shape. Place the shaped bagel onto the prepared baking sheet. Cover and let them rest until they feel slightly puffy to the touch, about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Combine the water and barley malt syrup or honey in a wide, shallow pot; the water should be at least 1 1/4" deep. Bring the mixture to a boil. Boil the bagels for 60 seconds, then use a dough whisk or slotted spoon to turn the bagels over (I often use chopsticks for this). Boil for another 60 seconds before removing from the water and placing back on the prepared pan. Bake until golden brown, 18 to 22 minutes.

#food #sam cooks #bread

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camille-lachenille · 7 months

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The Bakery Witch

She doesn’t even know she’s a witch, she just lives her happy life with her three cats and her bakery, selling the best bread and pastries in town.

She loves singing as she works, a bit of rock, a bit of opera and a bit of everything. The music infuses her pastries with power. People know to buy something from her bakery when they need a little nudge in the right direction in their life, they don’t know why but it seems her bread and pastry can boost one’s day.

There’s the anxious student stopping by the morning of an important exam to buy a chocolate croissant, and the witch sends them away with a kind smile and words of encouragement. They have the best grades of the promotion. Today, the witch was singing ‘We are the Champions’ while baking

There’s the lonely old man across the street wishing he could mend his relationship with his family. The witch always takes time to chat with him when he comes to buy bread. One day he comes in accompanied by a younger woman and two children and introduces them as his daughters and grandchildren. When she bakes mixed seeds bread, the old man’s favourite, the witch always hums songs about family and forgiveness.

After she closes her shop for the night, the witch always gives part of the leftovers to the homeless woman across the street and the rest to a shelter for abused women. When they bit into a cream pastry or a bun, they all feel loved and safe, and all of them end up building a new life for themselves quickly, a life full of hope and laughter. One day, the homeless woman across the street enters the bakery with a bright smile and tells the witch she found a job and a home.

The witch’s reputation spreads without her knowing and, one day just before the closure a man in a smart suit comes in and asks if she can help him break the curse on him. He’sHe was a businessman cursed to age thrice as quickly as normal and die if he doesn’t find love. He’s already tried everything and seen more pseudo-wizard and other sorcerers and he’s heard of the witch’s bakery and how her spells really work. Everyone in town assured him of it. Yet, the witch tells him she doesn’t know about breaking curses and isn’t interested in romance either but she could use some help with the bakery.

Having nothing to lose, the man accepts and becomes her apprentice. She teaches him how to make the bread rise to exact fluffiness, and bake pie crusts to perfection. And all along, she keeps humming and singing, telling her apprentice it’s half the fun of making bread. The man isn’t a very good singer but he picks the habit and makes up for his lack of skill by singing with wild enthusiasm. He’s never had so much fun in his life as he had kneading dough while singing cheesy pop songs or icing cinnamon rolls as he tries to keep up with an opera singer on the radio.

The customers are a bit surprised by the new assistant baker but quickly take a liking to him because if the witch works with him, he can only be a good man, right?

And, two years into his apprenticeship, the cursed man realises he has stopped aging. He’s even starting de-aging now. He doesn’t understand why, he hasn’t found love in all the time he has spent at the witch’s bakery. It’s only when he tells the witch about it that he understand, because she loo at him with raised eyebrows and asks: don’t you love baking? Singing? Making people’s day just a little better with a smile and a kind word?

And the man realises that he has, indeed, found love. He has a job that makes people and himself happy, he knows all regulars of the bakery by name and chats with them, the witch is his dearest friend and he has found a hobby in song (he’s still not great at it but it makes him happy so why stop?) His life is full of love, he just didn’t see it. And maybe, he’s a bit of a witch himself too, because his pastries seem to give people just what they need that day.

Years passes for the witch and her assistant, and their bakery is as popular as always. The anxious student graduated and is in a PhD program (they come before each important milestone to buy a chocolate croissant for the confidence boost), the old man from across the street comes once a week with his daughter and grandchildren, the formerly homeless woman comes to introduce her wife to the witch.

And maybe, one day, the man will meet someone and fall head over heels for them. And they will marry and have children or cats or even a lizard pet because why not. But in the meanwhile he’s in love with his job and lives with his best friend and her cats and, together, they are the bakery’s witches.

#if i had any drawing skills i’d make a comic out of this story #writing #short story #friendship #original story #magic bakery #bakery #witch #baking wizardry #sort of #long post

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sommerregenjuniluft · 8 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic september 8 — colorful — 1.4k words

cookie baking vs beef cake jamie and reg being a mess

James was trying to put on weight.

Something or another about how you gain more muscle that way and after a few weeks you can decide to cut back and ideally the fat will get burned up and vanish and the muscles underneath will remain. However the hell that’s supposed to work, Regulus is no fucking gym rat.

His stupid brother and that one’s equally stupid best friend are though and so Regulus is subjected to witnessing them throwing back their morning protein shakes like berserks and nearly pissing himself when at night he wants another glass of water from the kitchen sink and is met with the sight of Sirius and James wolfing down blocks of Feta or spooning half a litre buckets of low-fat quark like feral fucking raccoons bent over a trashcan.

As well as, apparently, high calorie sugar cookie baking.

James had the ‘brilliant’ idea of getting thousands of edible baking embellishments to put on top of the cookies. Food coloring for the frosting, marshmallows, little chocolates, nuts, sprinkles, whipped cream– Regulus is fairly sure the list goes on.

Pulling out every option under the sun, basically.

Somehow they’d ended up being abandoned by all three Sirius, Remus and Peter so now Regulus was to endure all…this all by himself.

This being James burly arms clad by his tight shirt that fits even more snugly now after the extra few pounds. Smooth brown skin, broad shoulder and a wide back, as always, and now he no longer looked fit as fuck but he instead fucking cuddly.

Regulus was led into a false sense of security believing that surely the less pronounced James’ muscles would get the less he’d internally melt down if in his close proximity.

Regulus was fucking wrong for that speculation because now the light pudge to James’ tall form makes him look so fucking domestic and warm and like home that Regulus wants to rip the hair out of his skull no less than a thirty times on a daily basis.

And now Regulus is being seducted bullied into baking cookies with that man. Looking the way he does now. For the next two hours minimum. Just the two of them. Alone.

“Arms up, love,” while tying the apron low on Regulus’ back.

Helping Regulus mix and knead and roll their dough, standing all close and smelling spicy and mind bendingly good.

Hunching forward and pressing his palms down into the counter to get it flat.

Smiling softly to himself when he places the excelled cookies successfully on the tray and snickering mischievously when he gets away with using the Christmas cookie cutters, producing several reindeers before Regulus catches him and puts an end to his nonsense.

It’s barely even Halloween season, christ’s sake.

Regulus takes a breath when they slide the last tray into the oven. Rubs with the back of his hand at the crusted flour on his forehead as James sets the timer, grinning warmly at him.

They take a few on the couch in peaceful silence. And again, false sense of security.

Regulus thought the hard part was over already.

Regulus had not given James’ creative streak enough credit in his calculations.

They ‘have to’ make 4 different colored frostings.

A nice warm pink one, a light blue one, one is yellow with edible glitter, “Obviously so that it looks like gold, Reg, keep up.” and a last one James wildly pours the blue, green and purple into. Doesn’t mix the last one well so that it stays colorfully streaked.

“Galaxy vibes, hey?”

Regulus sighs.

James’ grin only widens at that, “What?”

And he pauses to lean right next to Regulus against the counter. Regulus busies himself with stirring the already perfectly smooth, equally saturated pink frosting, huffing an annoyed breath, “What for?”

“Why not?” James counters.

Regulus ignores that. “Don’t you think it’ll taste weird if the coloring’s not properly mixed with the frosting?”

James cocks his head at that for a moment, “Only one way to find out.”

And then proceeds to swipe a finger through the bowl and hold it up to Regulus’ face.

“Open up, love.”

And Regulus knows he shouldn’t.

Feels it in the way his shoulders draw tight and his breath refuses to come back out after the intake.

But James is looking at him with those deep brown eyes behind his glasses, the mess of raven hair streaked with flour dust and the slightest uptick in the corner of his parted lips.

Regulus slowly opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out.

Looks up at James as this one’s eyelids flutter once, twice and then he’s smearing the frosting from his digit down onto Regulus’ waiting tongue.

Regulus feels himself sway into the motion, tilts his head back to make James’ index slide down the tip of it and off.

Then James puts that same finger back into the frosting, without ever taking his eyes off Regulus, before leading it into his mouth as well.

Closing his lips around the sole fingertip and sucking. But still managing to get some on the lower line of his lips, having dipped his finger in too deep without watching what he was doing.

There’s a line of green in the formally white frosting and Regulus can’t stop staring at it. “You have a bit…”

James nods dimly, pupils blown, “You too.”

“Yeah?” it’s barely above a breath. James probably wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t so close. When did James get so close? Wasn’t there just an arms length between them?

There’s not anymore. James is standing so close that the body heat radiating off of him is threatening to seep into Regulus’ slim frame and whack a shiver up his spine.

So close that he has to duck his head to keep looking at Regulus.

So close that it’s apparently necessary to get Regulus’ chin in a gentle grip and tilt his head up.

That would be an explanation.

What does not fit into the explanation is the slick index finger that’s now sliding back and forth over Regulus wet bottom lip.

What also doesn’t fit into the explanation is how Regulus would have gotten frosting on his lips when James had smeared it onto his tongue directly.

Honestly, Regulus’ mind is far too occupied with more important thoughts right now.

Like the way James’ breath puffs against his lower face and how he keeps manipulating Regulus’ lips to part more and more.

Satisfied apparently when the fingerpad disappears only to promptly be replaced by James’ own fucking mouth.

Sucking Regulus’ bottom lip between his teeth and dragging oh so slightly that Regulus’ brain simply shuts down.

Because then James is releasing it, having gotten rid of the bit of frosting, but Regulus keeps his chin angled up. Like an insane person.

James doesn’t go far and promptly breaks into a smile before he dives back in for more.

Licking into Regulus’ mouth more confidently now and Ah, yeah there’s the frosting and the food coloring.

Regulus has the stray thought that their tongues must be stained from the color now but then James is skillfully prying the other bowl out of Regulus’ palms and then he’s being twisted a bit and now his hands are free to do stuff like run up the swell of James’ arm and shoulder and neck.

Which is downright indecent, even more so when James rumbles a noise into his mouth at the contact and Regulus feels it vibrate down into his gut immediately.

It makes him gasp and James uses that space happily, hungrily swiping his tongue and sucking at Regulus’ like he could fucking eat him, or at least the frosting right back out of his mouth again.

Regulus digs his blunt nails into the muscle of James’ neck which has him drawing back with a gasp.

It’s a bit embarrassing how little control Regulus has over the “Oh my god,” that’s slipping right out of him.

James smiles into another two quick kisses he can’t seem to help himself but steal.

They’re resting their foreheads together breathlessly when James mumbles, “And?”

Regulus makes an inquiring noise that’s more high-pitched than it should be.

James’ smile is evident in his voice, “Did it taste weird with the food coloring?”

Regulus suppresses the urge to pinch the skin of his neck, “Dunno.”

James lifts his head a bit and Regulus blinks his eyes back open.

Feels a warm tremble surge his body at the way James looks at him, “I think we should try again then.”

Regulus swallows with a bit of difficulty, nodding his head embarrassingly eagerly.

#oh i missed them #pudgy james is a vision yall #reg was like Help why is he literally More boyfriend shaped now??#was watching dating show today (love allways) and there was a frosting scene #i couldn't help myself #jegulus fic #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #lune’s tiny fic

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slocumjoe · 1 year

Note

could i get your take on what the companions (or just my favorite boy X6's) top 10 fave candies/foods would be in a modern AU?

anon you are in luck, because I am constantly thinking about the diets and eating habits of my blorbos

The numbered list isn't in any particular order, it's just so I don't have to manually count each point

What the companions would eat if not in a post apocalypse

Cait; Wouldn't have a taste for fancier cuisine. Eats more...hick-ish. I can say that because I was a hick with this kind of diet, growing up. Has a taste for filling, cheap, low-effort food...think lots of fast food, but "healthier" fast food. Like Chipotle, Panera, etc. Can cook, doesn't often, but will if she has a craving. Savory or tart tastes. She tends to eat lighter than you'd expect.

Blueberry brownie anything, favors dark chocolate in general

Submarine sandwiches, anything with pickles

Key lime pie

Salt and vinegar chips and thinks critics of such chips are cowards

Peach Redbull, any energy drinks though

Storebought hummus and Doritos, has been seen eating hummus with just a spoon though

Blueberry bread pudding. Simple to make, fun to eat, very comforting. Buys her bread already stale from a local bakery, has a guy to hook her up with the old shit

Seafood chowder

Sausages in any capacity. Jerky sticks, breakfast sausage, etc. Loves chorizo.

Honey buns from the gas station

Curie; Health nut, she eats like every influencer claims they eat like. Only, Curie actually eats like that. Lots of fresh foods and whole grains, little red meat. However, Curie makes a point to have foods that other health nuts would condemn, thinks its really important to not label any food as "bad." So, she balances between health nut and normal person. Her taste leans toward bright and/or sweet. Dislikes red meat.

Salmon breakfast wraps

Tropical fruit smoothies, eats so much pineapple

Iced tea, favors raspberry. Never seen without an iced tea of some kind

Halibut tacos, likes red cabbage and a fuck ton of lemon on it. Soft shells all the way

Bananas foster

Whipped brie dip, eats it with anything but loves it on apples, basically dessert

Lemon pepper grilled chicken and rice

So many salads, loves that you can just throw shit in a bowl and call it a recipe. Likes strawberries and almonds

Lemon poppyseed muffins

Shrimp and bitter melon stir fry

Danse; mixed bag. One on hand, small town diner tastes. Simple, cheap, good ol' American food. On the other, he's doomed to be a soldier in every universe he's in, so...maybe he picks up some tastes and dishes from places he's toured. Gets a weird pallate that shoots in all directions and makes you wonder what it's like in that thick skull. One day he's a good American boy with pancakes and steak, the next he's eating cake mix dry and drinking tahini from a flask.

Anything BBQ, but a pulled pork devotee

Hot coffee so heavily creamed and sugars it looks like milk. He likes the twix combo of chocolate, shortbread, and caramel flavors

Prepackaged baked goods a la Hostess, fucks up little Debbie oatmeal cookies

Apple and pecan pie

Menemen—Turkish dish, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, bell peppers, spices to taste, and (controversially) onions. Adds sausage and cheese, eats it with a fork or spoon (its meant to be eaten with bread)

Khachapuri—Georgian cheesy bread with egg. Eats with a knife and fork. (its meant to be eaten with the bread crust)

Smores pop tarts

Beef and potato stew

Rice bowl with fried egg and avocado, bonus points if it has bacon

Straight cookie dough/brownie/cake batter, usually when he's black out drunk and cannot shame himself out of eating raw egg products.

Deacon; Very childhood comfort food. Y'know, things you had as a kid, but probably grew out of a bit? Eats out of gas stations/takeout frequently. Very open flavor pallete, has tried everything he's had the chance to. Likes one-handed food, stuff you can have the other hand free for. Doesn’t really have a 'theme', has broad horizons for his diet. Likes lighter, mild flavors, though. He eats lightly and on the go a lot.

Hot/corn dogs, taste in hot dog toppings varies

Egg salad sandwiches

French fries and vanilla ice cream, classic combo

Mango sticky rice

Cornbread with any accompaniments. Likes honey or chili, thinks if you have a drink with cornbread, you ain't a real cornhead

Penne alla vodka

Cucumber salad. This could mean a salad with cucumbers, that trending Asian recipe where you cut the cumber so its springy, or eating a cucumber like a hotdog.

Fried mushrooms

Usually just drinks water but will have gator/powerade when he's working. Likes purple flavor

Captain crunch cereal, loves all cereal though. Prefers the kibble stuff to the berries. Starts philosophical debates about the morality of Trix commercials vs Lucky Charms commercials

Gage; His favorite foods reflect his upbringing. Coastal swamp cuisine, cheap and made in bulk. Take Danse's pallate and hyperlocalize it, and then lower the budget by a good amount. Things he grew up eating. Would gradually replace his favorites with pricier, 'less embarrassing' dishes, distances himself from his origins. However, takes care to not looked too loaded. Smokey and savory flavors are his thing, likes more spice than people expect.

Doberge cake, which is layered with pudding, often half-chocolate and half-lemon

Red beans and rice, with stewed pork if they could afford it

Blackened fish of any kind, liked it with cilantro-lime rice

Steak with potatoes and/or eggs

Chronic iced tea drinker like Curie, though he prefers the bitter kinds

Scallops

Brussels sprouts defender and will fight for their honor

Peaches

Was introduced to curry during a business meeting/outing. Could drink that shit from a glass, has it with potatoes and porkchops.

Lobster anything. This is one of those 'less embarresing' things, but he genuinely enjoys a good lobster roll. Even if he prefers a freshly-caught lobster bisque. Again, something he had growing up, something he pushes away.

Hancock; Similar to Deacon, but favors fatty, greasy food. No, it's not the drugs, that's just his metabolism. He's a skinny twink, always starving, can never put on weight. Eats as much as Danse, who is a big guy and needs more calories than most. He's really into street food and foreign dishes, won't eat at a restaurant if they speak fluent English or have good customer service. IYKYK. Very comfort food heavy, lots of "this would slap with Netflix at 2 am"

A classic oxtail, mac and cheese, and collard green take out combo

Any and all American-chinese take out, usually gets eggplant tofu with chow mein and cream cheese rangoons

"Walking tacos", those things where you open a small bag of chips and dump White People taco makings in. Probably just tips the whole thing into his mouth

Yakitori, Japanese chicken skewers, popular bar food

Bloody Mary cocktails

Pizza, will fight for the honor of pineapple. Would really be into how Brazil does pizza

Frozen yogurt and ice cream, piles with toppings

Breakfast sandwiches or wraps. Egg, meat, cheese, doesn't matter the time nor specifics.

Jam donuts, loves cherry fillings

Puppy chow/muddy buddies, chex cereal covered in chocolate and powdered sugar. Eats his weight in them if not careful

MacCready; forces himself to learn how to cook for Duncan's sake, but for himself...good God. It's horrible. Eats like garbage. Would never drink water if not to set an example. Take out, frozen food, so much candy and soda. After Duncan, broadens his horizons. Finds he really likes soups. Just throw shit in a pot and it works. Eats on a budget, so that's a life-saver. Doesn't have a preferred flavor pallete, aside from his love of candy.

Meat lover's pizza. Thinks pineapple has no place on pizza

Used to drink Mountain Dew and diet coke, replaced it with iced teas and more organic fruit juices for the sake of his teeth

Chicken soup, either from a can, or homemade. Either way, slaps. If homemade, blends veggies for a hidden veggie stock. For him, Duncan is a lot better at eating veggies, MacCready needs to trick himself.

Sour rainbow ropes

Cookie crisp cereal, thinks whoever came up with it deserved the sloppiest head. Incredible design, no notes

Cheese and sour cream chips

Famous Amos cookies

Eggo waffles

Gnocchi is God to him. Its superior to all noodles and makes your Shit In The Fridge soup 1000 times better.

Rice pudding is cheap, easy, and a surprisingly efficient sweet-tooth satisfier. Makes it with pumpkin spice mix or chocolate.

Nick; Home-cooked meals all the way. Could kill himself with cheese and die happy. Lots of easy meals and snacking so he can keep working, but will treat himself to a nice, hard-earned dinner when he has the time and energy. Likes himself the smokey, the fresh, or the sour. Probably knows all the best sub shops in the city, probably in a turf war with regulars of rival shops. Jewish delicatessens are like church to him.

Lasanga. Most of his freezer space is lasagna. Eats so much of it. He's lactose intolerant. It hurts but it hurts so good

Latkes. Fried potato things, kind of like hashbrowns, except the potato is mashed/ground instead of grated. And yes. Also pastrami. But those little potato bitches...mmmph.

Red velvet muffins with cream cheese frosting.

Fried cheese in any capacity

A prosciutto, arugula, brie, and fig sandwich

Pickled pearl onions

Cobb salad

Black coffee. Temp doesn't matter, because he's going to forget it until its room temp.

Has been known to enter fugue states and consume an absurd amount of Chicago style hot dogs

Scones or just plain bread with butter and jams

Piper; Broke college student trying to make it as a reporter. Her tastebuds are fucked, they salivate not for flavor, or texture, but for those good, good low prices. Piper's diet is almost entirely snackfood or takeout. If she ever cooks, it's for Nat. But when taking care of just herself, Piper eats from a box or bag. When she does cook, it's very simple meals. Loves her carbs and her fruit flavors

Chicken Ramen with canned chicken and frozen broccoli chucked in. Also makes this for Nat

Hot cheetos, eats with chopsticks

Spaghetti and meatballs

Fruit smoothies/smoothie bowls, blends in veggies as well for the nutrition

Coka cola and anything from Fanta, loves fruit sodas

Anything carbs and I mean that. Eats a lot of bread, pasta, cakes, potatoes...they're the sweetheart of anyone on a budget.

Buffalo cauliflower, likes it more than Buffalo chicken

Chewing gum. Fruit flavors only, hates mint gum. Likes mint elsewhere, just not in gum.

Nickle-nips and other "jelly/juice in a wax package" candies. Likes the charm of it, also, free chewing wax

Suckers/lollipops, big on hard candy in general but the stick satisfies her smoking habit.

Preston; A mix of easy depression/bulk meals and dishes from his childhood. Lots of spices, cooks with a lot of straight peppers. Tends to eat his food 'raw', not made into a dish. Again, easy and quick to eat. Also tends to buy pre-prepared stuff for the same reason, buys more fruits and veggies and just eats them straight. Doesn't care about eating healthy, he just lacks energy to cook most days.

I have no choice to explain this as it has no name. Casserole dish, layer of mashed potatoes, layer of shredded or chunked chicken, layer of white breakfast gravy or brown poultry gravy, top with drop biscuits. It's buttery, its savory, it is white as snow. Easy, cheap, one ladlefull is dinner. You'll get a few meals out of it, and it's so filling you have like, five minutes before you're stuffed. I call it gut-glue.

Dirty rice

Eggs scrambled with spinach

Jollof/jambalaya

Veggies and hummus or ranch

Various fruits and berries such as grapes, cherries, blackberries, and oranges

Shakshouka, eggs poached in spicy tomato sauce and eaten with bread

Chicken biscuits, crackers dusted with, like, chicken bouillon? They taste like a chicken Ramen packet sneezed on a ritz

Slurpees/Icees/those syruped gas station ice drinks

Straight peppers, eats bell peppers like apples. Eats pickled jalapeños and scotch bonnets to feel something. Drinks the liquid in pickle jars instead of alcohol, or mixes it with gelatin and makes pickle jello.

X6-88; Pretensious rich asshole who eats like it. He rarely cooks for himself, probably has a personal chef or something. Maybe his work has their own restaurants, like Google. Eats mostly vegetables, but his favorite foods skew from "Dubai Influencer" to "12 year old who earned too much lawn mowing money and was let loose in a convenience store." So much sugar. Willy Wonka's factory is his idea of heaven and until it exists, he's an atheist.

Raw meats. Steak and tuna tartar, sashimi, and sushi

Braised duck with cherries

Nduja, a spicy pork sausage spread, has it with flatbreads

Oysters. Eats them all fancy in public, eats them from a tin with doritos at home

Anything from Hostess, Little Debbie, those brands. Fucking anything. However, would kill a man for any kind of Swiss roll

Chocolate milk

Gummies, very picky with brands, hates the harder kinds like Haribo. Wants his gummies soft as a marshmellow

Cadbury eggs

Milano dark chocolate cookies

Gushers

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #nick valentine #piper wright #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #porter gage

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shroomthebest · 2 months

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Sweet pie

Lee:Owen ler:Apo

(This is a tickle fic if your not comfortable don’t read this take care <3)

-TICKLING IS NOT A KINK NOR FETISH FOR ME-

“Your doing it wrong”

Owen whined facing Apo with the spoon in his hands, they had been out in the maze all day. Running and mapping, they would have invited Rasbi if she wasn’t resting.

“I’m not”

Apo insisted with a smile, he pointed to the dough and stirred it slightly with his own wooden spoon. There were still apples that they hadn’t used to the side, to be honest the whole clearing had probably heard them bickering by now. but Apo couldn’t care less, he had been waiting all day for a moment with Owen alone. Without any pressure of being the leader of the runners on their shoulders, turned out that was harder than expected.

“Look see, it’s looks just like the one we made with Rasbi”

Apo said giving Owen a judging glare, Owen whined once again

“No it doesn’t, see it’s more lumpy. It looks so weird”

Owen groaned walking over beside Apo and leaning against the table to look at the dough, he poked it and pulled his hand away with small bits of dough stuck to his finger

“Don’t poke it!”

Apo exclaimed looking at Owen in utter disbelief and maybe disgust as he stepped infront of the dough

“You wil ruin my perfect pie crust shape”

Apo said with fake annoyance, Owen scoffed and smirked teasingly

“If not perfect at all, even my oldest bow looks better beside that thing”

Owen teased crossing his arms in a mocking way even as it clearly wasn’t serious.

“Oh you know what that’s it!”

Apo scowled playfully, Owen barely got enough time to process his words before he was on the ground with Apo on top of him, relentlessly squeezing and scribbling on his sides. Owen shrieked and the dam broke within milliseconds as giggles began tumbling out of his mouth, he squirmed and wiggled but it didn’t help at all. Apo laughed in a fake evil villain voice.

“This is a good punishment I think, I even get to hear your laugh which is nice to”

Apo paused before smiling brightly like he wasn’t tickling the breath out of Owen.

“Have i ever told you how much I love your laugh?, it’s so cute and bubbly!”

Owen squealed at the tease shaking his head quickly, Apo had found a sensitive spot on his sides. And while Owens sides might not be his worse spot it certainly did tickle, it was ridiculous how good Apo was at tickling someone. Apo smiled wider at the squeal, his eyes widened.

“Oh my god you squeal?”

Apo said cheerfully, he massaged into the spot Owen had squealed at and his face brightened as Owen once again squealed at the touch, Apo laughed along with him his demon tail wagging behind him as well finding the bonding moment so very sweet.

“It’s like a squeal button! Im telling everyone about this spot!”

Owen shook his head again at that and began kicking his legs out behind him in desperation, Apo realized at the action but waited for Owen to call for him to stop, he kept tickling his sides and the so called squeal button. His hands squeezed and scribbled all over the sensitive spots on his sides.

Owen was giggling like a little kid, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his nose a few times. Honestly the sensation wasn’t bad, maybe Owen would have felt uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the fact it was Apo tickling him, his best friend Apo. They hadn’t had a moment like this alone in a while, they were both so laser focused on getting out lately that they entirely forget everything else almost, Owen enjoyed it spending time with Apo and the tickling in some ways. But his need for air won at last

“Aphoho stohohop”

Owen giggled out his hair all messed up and tears budding at the edges of his eyes, Apo smiled but stopped tickling Owen the second the words left his mouth, getting up from where they had been laying on the ground. Owen was still regaining his breath and he sat up against the table they had been making Apple pie on a few minutes ago. Giggles still interrupted his breathing and his blush was as bright as ever, Owen surely looked up again.

“I hate you so much”

He promised getting off the ground yet still leaning against the table, he looked at Apo almost accusingly as he just kept the teasing smirk

“Yeah right that’s why you weren’t asking me to stop every second”

Apo teased and he laughed when Owen flushed an even brighter shade of pink than before

“I- you!-“

Owen stuttered over his words before giving up and just settling with glaring at Apo.

“Come on the pie isn’t gonna make it self!”

Apo told him grabbing his own wooden spoon back and then reaching Owen his, which he took but not without a distrustful glare.

later that day Owen handed Apo a slice of Raspberry Pie and Apple Pie, Rasbi was sat beside them now. Laughing at one of Owens jokes about Mowhee, When Apo looked down at the slice of pie he froze. On the slice of apple pie that him and Owen had made together there was a single white feather, Apo gulped as Rasbi looked over and frowned.

“Why did Owen put a feather on yours?”

Apo shook his head almost in denial, Owen had walked off after handing the slices of pie to both of them claiming that he had made a promise to help Graecie with her crops. Apo looked at Rasbi, seeming terrified.

“I am a dead man”

Apo whispered to Rasbi.

Part two anyone? This took some time and I wrote it all in one shot which is new for me lol, hope you enjoyed and as always I will delete this if any of the creators aren’t comfortable with this kind of content made about them, please inform me if they aren’t :D

-TICKLING IS NOT A KINK NOR FETISH FOR ME-

Stay safe! <3

#mcyt tickle #outsiders smp #minecraft #owengejuicetv #apokuna #tickle fluff #apple pie #pow creations #pie duo #mcyt #tickle fic #tickle

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avastrasposts · 28 days

Text

Sourdough - A Baker's Dozen TedTalk

I’ve mentioned sourdough a few times in A Baker’s Dozen but I never dedicated a chapter to it even though it’s probably my personal favourite to bake. So to make up for that, I’m indulging in making a whole post about my other obsession, sourdough bread!

I love baking with sourdough because the process behind it is like magic to me. Flour, water and salt, three ingredients, and you can get the most delicious bread. The magic, unseen, ingredient is of course those wild yeast bacteria that live around us.

My mum was always the one who baked sweet things around the house when I was a kid, my dad made the bread. When he first got into it he produced bricks. You legit could’ve used some of his loaves as a foundation for a house. And I’ve produced my fair share of bricks in my baking career too… But he got better and for most of my life I had the luxury of having fresh, homemade bread for breakfast. That’s where my need to make my own bread came from and once I got past the novelty of being “allowed” to buy bread from the store after moving out of my parent’s house, I got into making my own bread pretty fast.

I started baking with sourdough about ten years ago when I stumbled on a blog about it. My first loaves were flat as pancakes and it took A WHILE before I graduated from baking in bread tins to managing to make loaves that actually held their shape. Sourdough dough does not behave like regular yeasted dough… But when I did manage to make my first proper levain, you know one of those beautiful golden loaves with nice holes and crunchy crust? I ate the whole loaf in one day. I couldn’t stop. Just butter, some sea salt and that was my food for the whole day. I’d never tasted bread so good. It’s tangy and flavourful in a way that yeasted bread just can’t imitate.

I’m no expert but here is how I make and manage my starter and my bread. Important to remember is that flour, water and climate, especially the humidity, has a HUGE effect on the dough and the bread. No recipe will have the same results and to a certain extent, it’s a process of trial and error and learning how to bake in YOUR kitchen.

In order to make sourdough, you need a starter and it’s surprisingly easy to make and maintain. I have a tiny starter, only about half a cup in size. The starter is your “yeast”, a small colony of yeast bacteria that you feed and culture so that you have enough for whatever you want to bake.

The starter takes about 5-7 days to make and once you have it, you can keep it in the fridge and just feed it before you want to bake.

So to make it you need:

Organic whole wheat flour, stone milled if you can find it.

Organic will contain more yeast spores and make the process easier. Don’t use old flour, check the expiration date of the flour you have at home. Flour can actually go rancid and wreck your bread.

Water

I use tap water but if you live somewhere with chlorinated water, use bottled water. The chlorination will kill all bacteria, the good and the bad.

A clean jar with a lid.

It doesn’t have to be a clear glass jar but it’s pretty handy because it makes it easy to see what’s going on.

Ok, now that we’ve got everything, let’s start.

Day 1 - Evening

1 tablespoon flour

2 tablespoons tepid water (roughly body temp, maybe a bit cooler)

The amount of water you need to add can vary depending on how your flour has been milled. The mixture should be like gruel, not porridge. If two tablespoons isn’t enough, add a little bit more water until you have a fairly loose and liquid slurry.

Mix together in the jar, put the lid on top but don’t screw the lid on. Leave for 48 hours in a warm place. Inside the oven (turned off) is a pretty good place.

You can check on your jar after 24 hours. It’s pretty liquid and should smell warm and a bit sweet, almost like honey. If you see any brighter colours in it, red, yellow, orange, I’m sorry, but you have to toss it. That’s mold and that’s not what we want. So throw it out, start again (this is one benefit of this method, all you lost was a tablespoon of flour).

Day 3 - Evening

Ok, so if your flour/water mix is looking good, a bit liquidy, maybe it’s separated a bit, maybe a bit bubbly and frothy, we’re all good for the next step.

Add 1 tablespoon of flour and mix in. Leave it overnight.

Day 4 - Morning

If the starter is on the right track now, you should begin to see small bubbles on the side of it, inside the glass jar. It should smell sour and yeasty, “bready”.

Add 2 tablespoons of flour and two tablespoons of water and mix it in. Leave until evening.

And that’s it! By evening you might/should see that there’s activity in the jar, bigger bubbles forming, the starter will rise up in the jar and expand, just like a dough. If it doesn’t, feed it 1 tablespoon of water and flour again and leave it overnight. Like I said at the beginning, lots of different factors are at play here so despite the fact that it’s all chemistry, it’s not an exact science (well it is, but since we can’t measure all the factors in each individual kitchen, we need to depend on a bit of trial and error).

So now you have a starter and can start playing around with making bread. I won’t go into that because there are so many good instructional videos online. I can really recommend Claire Saffitz’s video, I’ll link it below.

Obviously this starter is very small. Many recipes I’ve seen online call for much bigger starters and then discard half of it when they feed it but that always seems very wasteful to me. So what I do with my tiny little starter is just keep it in the fridge in its jar. When I plan on baking I take about 30 grams of starter and put it in a bowl and mix with 100g water and 100g strong bread flour. That is then the base for my bread the next day. To that mix I add whatever flour I’m baking with. The starter gets fed another tablespoon of flour and water and stays on my countertop overnight. That replenishes the starter and gives me enough for the next time I want to bake. In all, I usually have about 150-200 ml of starter in the fridge at any time.

If I’m not baking, the starter stays in the fridge. I’ve had it there for a month without feeding (I was away travelling) and when I got home, I just fed it like above and left it out overnight. I had to feed it a couple of times before it got back to full strength. But the yeast bacteria don’t seem to die very easily, they just go dormant and are easily revived with flour and water.

Fun fact, the actual science behind the yeast bacteria is that they eat the carbs in the flour and then convert that into energy and emit the gas carbon dioxide. The gluten strands in the dough traps that gas and makes the dough rise. So essentially, farts make the dough rise, tiny bacteria farts. I love science :D

What else did I want to say about sourdough? Oh yeah, TIME! Time will make your bread taste better! And this goes for regular yeasted bread too. By letting the dough cold proof in the fridge the yeast activity is slowed down but at the same time, flavour develops. With sourdough, you get a tangier, more sour bread. I usually keep my loaves in the fridge for 24 hours before baking them, same for my pizza dough.

So thanks for coming to my TedTalk about sourdough! It’s amazing and frustrating and a real pain sometimes but when you get it right and you get to cut into that perfect loaf that YOU MADE and it tastes better than anything you’ve had, that’s real magic.

youtube

#Youtube

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skvllablesky · 2 months

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Ok so here’s a fun lil tcm hc exercise:

How do the sawyers/slaughter like their pizza?

It’s based off this thing I saw that sometimes they order pizza when cook is too tired to cook meat

Here’s my personal hc for this:

Hitchhiker + Chop Top: I feel like they either just like plain cheese or the weirdest shit on theirs: gummies, skittles, smarties, etc. Or like tuna, or pineapple. (Or I feel like they peel off the cheese and just eat it with the dough and sauce because they’re weird like that)

Johnny: Pepperoni (idk why, gut feeling)

Sissy: Cheese or Only eats the crust

Cook: Doesn’t have a preference, as long as it’s not one of the twins abominations

Bubba: Anything with meat on it or just plain cheese

Nancy: Also, doesn’t have a preference

What’s your hc for this?

I agree the twins definitely make the most atrocious things ever with food I'm talking sour candy with mozzy sticks I'm talking airheads with spaghetti they get real creative in the kitchen I also agree with the cook and Nancy not really having a preference I'm sorry they just seem kinda boring like that and I get the feeling johnny would like pepperoni too and I also pretty much agree with sissy and bubba too it's like you took the thoughts right out my brain☆

#texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #sissy sawyer #tcm #nubbins sawyer #robert sawyer #bubba sawyer #drayton sawyer #nancy Sawyer

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copperbadge · 1 year

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One of the best things about altering the King Arthur pizza recipe to make two pizzas is that I can experiment with one and make sure that the other is always edible, so I’m never disappointed. I’ve been dealing with a sprained shoulder/back issue, but fortunately the recipe doesn’t call for any kneading, just occasionally stretching the dough and then letting it rest overnight.

Last night after putting the dough in the fridge I decided I’d try making a butternut squash sauce since I have about a half gallon of squash puree. I didn’t really use a recipe, just mixed up some puree, chicken broth, milk-and-butter (didn’t have cream), garlic, and pepper, and simmered it for a while; it didn’t thicken up the way I’d like, so I tempered some cornstarch and added that, then chilled it overnight. I used the sauce the way you would a tomato sauce, topping it with mozzarella, walnut pieces, and then a sprinkling of parmesan-reggiano.

It came out very nicely -- the squash added an earthy note, so I’m glad I didn’t use mushrooms, since that might have been a bit too much “earth”.

[ID: Two photographs; the first shows two pizzas on a cooling rack, one on the left with a golden sauce and dark toasted walnut pieces on top, the other with a tomato sauce and crisped pepperoni slices. The second image shows a slice of the butternut pizza on one of my new blue-patterned plates; the crust looks crispy and fluffy, while the cheese is deeply caramelized.]

#food #sam cooks #pizza

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softguarnere · 5 months

Text

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 35: Alii

Summary: And just as unexpectedly as Shifty has disappeared, someone from her past reappears. A/N: FINALLY - the Bobby faceclaim reveal! Whelp, I'm updating late - again 🫠 We've unexpectedly had some family move in, so trust me when I say that it's been a whole ordeal. Also, I may or may not be procrastinating writing these last few chapters, because I'm going to be so sad when this fic ends 💔 However - I'm always up for writing Zenie/Shifty and the gang, so even when this fic ends, we will see them again! The chapter title is the Cherokee word for "friendship" Warnings: none Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @dcyllom @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

North Carolina, 1945

For people who like to talk so much, Zenie’s friends fall into complete radio silence the second that she returns home.

She doesn’t expect letters to be waiting for her when she arrives. That would be ridiculous. She’s not expecting anything for the time being. But that night before going to bed, she dashes off letters to her friends to let them know that she’s made it home safely.

The next morning is eventful. Mama had her wish the night before; all her children were under the same roof again, safe and sound. And the one night seems to be all they will get – all they can take.

Matthew leaves the next morning for Wilmington. He, Marilyn, and Zenie say their goodbyes in the driveway by his truck, the first slivers of early morning sunlight giving their parting a golden hue.

“I’ll write when I get home,” Matthew tells them. He fixes them with a look that’s supposed to be stern, but he’s too good humored for it to be serious. “And I expect you two to do the same.” Then he hugs them, squeezes them tight, presses a kiss to Mama’s cheek, and is off – to his new, happy life as a husband and a father in the place that he should have grown up in to begin with.

When he’s gone, the women return to the house. No one has seen their father yet, but he has a habit of sleeping most of the day, anyway. Danny hasn’t shown himself yet, but at least they can hear him moving around. Zenie doesn’t understand why he and Marilyn didn’t just spend the night with his family on the farm next door. She would have stayed somewhere else if she could.

“I need to go visit Bobby,” Zenie says. She’ll get herself out of this house one way or another.

Marilyn purses her lips. “Well you can’t go empty handed.”

All throughout the war, Malarkey talked about snagging a lugger to take home to his brother. Though nothing of that caliber, Zenie does have a few treasures from her time abroad stashed away. Probably nothing that Bobby would like, though.

Marilyn tosses Zenie a look over her shoulder as she steps into the kitchen. “Danny once mentioned that Bobby is fond of strawberry pies.”

The implication seems to be that Zenie should bake one for him. It’s been three years since Zenie has seen her sister, but her kitchen mishaps have been so legendary that she would be good and truly shocked if her sister had managed to forget them.

“Are you trying to get me to give him a gift, or to poison him?”

Her sister smiles. “I’ll help you.”

Under her sister’s careful guidance, a soft and supple dough takes shape. Not a bit of it sticks to the rolling pin, or the counter, which seems like a miracle to Zenie. Marilyn even uses scraps of extra dough to make a braided rope to decorate the edges of the crust.

Tossing a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure that they’re alone, Zenie lowers her voice as she watches Marilyn begin creating the pie’s filling. “My husband likes pie.”

Marilyn’s eyebrows raise, but her attention doesn’t waver from the task at hand. “Does he?”

Zenie nods. “I won’t be able to make him any, though. So he’ll do the cooking, and I’ll do the cleaning.”

The wooden spoon makes a soft scraping sound against the side of the bowl as Marilyn begins stirring sugar into the berry slices. “You have a system all worked out.”

We have a system all worked out, Shifty had said before they left Europe – back when he was assuring her that everything would be okay. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Marilyn says. “now you know how to make him a strawberry pie.”

A frown tugs at the corners of Zenie’s mouth without her permission. “It probably won’t be as good as yours.”

For a split second, it looks as if Marilyn freezes, trying to absorb the hidden meaning in her little sister’s somber tone. Does she know that she’s perfect, and that Zenie has never measured up to her in comparison?

She shrugs. “He’ll like it better, though, because you’re the one who made it for him.” Zenie drops her elbows to the counter, cradles her chin in her hands as she watches her sister work. Before she can say anything, Marilyn continues in a quiet voice, “I would teach you how to make others, but Danny and I are leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? To go where?”

Marilyn looks equal parts wistful and bashful when she admits, “Florida.”

“Florida?!”

“The Dills have some family down there. An uncle that was a doctor is leaving his practice and has offered to let Danny take over.”

Zenie isn’t quite sure what to say. She’s happy that her sister and brother-in-law will be going somewhere warm and where they can make a life for themselves, but she’s also struck by the realization that, not for the first time, she’s going to be stranded in this house again.

“Congratulations,” she finally forces herself to say. “That sounds exciting.”

A soft smile spreads across her sister’s lips. “I think it will be. And you can always come visit if it gets too cold in – “ She pauses, raises an eyebrow. “Where does your husband live again?”

“Virginia.”

“If it gets too cold up there, you’re welcome to visit us in Florida,” Marilyn offers. Then, she does something unexpected: she asks Zenie a question and seems genuinely curious as to the answer. “What’s your husband’s name? What’s he like?”

Until the pie is done being cooked, the sisters have the most pleasant and honest conversation that Zenie can ever remember them having. About their childhoods, about the war. And for once, Zenie doesn’t find herself comparing her own experiences, her own words, or even herself, to Marilyn.

The perfect pie finishes cooking all too soon. Zenie hardly waits for it to cool before she whisks it up and transports it over to the Dills’ house, balancing the warm plate on her right hand while knocking on the door with her left.

Shocked eyes greet her, but they’re quickly replaced with the biggest smile Zenie has ever seen. In one swift motion, Bobby manages to set the pie plate aside and wrap his arms around Zenie, picking her up as they embrace.

“You’re back!” He exclaims. He’s taller than he was when she left. From the strength in his hug and in his lifting her, he’s grown stronger, too.

“I am,” Zenie replies. “Mostly in one piece.”

Bobby is still smiling, but his eyes are full of concern. “I was getting worried. Your letters got few and far between, and then the war was just over.”

Zenie winces, explanations already on the tip of her tongue. There’s no good way to articulate the fact that she just started to get overwhelmed – especially after discovering the camp. “Sorry.”

But Bobby is still smiling. He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezes. “Don’t be.” He chuckles. “I mean, you brought me a pie. How could I be mad?”

Of course, Bobby knows most of the story from the letters that she sent him, but he doesn’t know the secrets that she wasn’t able to slip into her messages. Once he spies the pie in her hands, he grabs two forks and whisks her off to the field that separates their houses, staying close to the shade of the tree line, and closer to his family’s land than hers, just in case. They settle in and she tells all.

“I can’t believe it,” he says when she’s done telling him her trials and tribulations. He shakes his head, his voice soft. “You had all the fun.”

With one line, he confirms what she suspected the last time that she saw him, all those years ago. This was about more than helping her escape from the life that she hated – this was a way for him to be part of something big, too, even if it had to be done through someone else. Looking inward, Zenie realizes that she isn’t even upset about it. Hell, she would have done the same thing.

“What about you?” She nudges his shoulder with hers, trying to keep the mood light. “Been up to anything exciting? Any plans now that the war is over?”

A frown pulls at the edges of Bobby’s lips. He scratches the back of his neck. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? You and my momma both.” He leans his head back against the tree they’re perched under, lets out a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know yet. My parents want me to go to college. My excuse for not going has been the war, since I would feel guilty if I was writing papers in a warm, safe dorm room while every other boy my age was fighting for his life in foxholes. But now it’s over in Europe . . .”

“They’re still fighting in the Pacific.”

He nods. “My folks don’t seem to think it’ll last long, though. I applied, just to get them off my back.”

“And?”

“I got in.” The simple answer lacks all the joy that usually accompanies such news. In fact, it’s grim, and sounds more like a death sentence than the segue into the next chapter of a young man’s life. “I’ve managed to convince them that I shouldn’t start until the spring, though, so you’re stuck with me a little longer.” He offers her a tight smile.

“Don’t worry,” Zenie assures him. “You’re also stuck with me, for a time.”

He uses his fork to procure himself a bite of pie from the plate in his hands. “I won’t be in bad company, then.”

For a man who has spent so many years in the back parlor rotting away in his rocking chair and doing nothing but complain and listen to the radio, Zenie’s father very suddenly develops a keen interest in the window by the front door. No one says anything, though Zenie assumes that it’s so he can make sure she doesn’t slip away again. Apparently he’s forgotten about the backdoor – the door which, ironically enough, she returned through – but no one says anything about that. Either way, it’s obvious that he is sticking to his word about Zenie not leaving.

For lack of anything else to do, she begins accompanying her mother to work. It’s mostly to spend time with her. Although she would be remiss if she didn’t admit that part of her does it just to flaunt the fact that she can and will go wherever she likes.

The two women rise early every morning. They eat a warm breakfast together at the kitchen table before heading out. In the mornings the world is peaceful and awash in a soft glow as they embark on their walk, baskets bouncing against their hips as they walk along. When they cross though town, Zenie deposits letters to her friends at the post office. Then they stop at houses, picking up peoples’ dirty laundry and delivering their clean clothes. At home, they work in the sunlit backyard, scrubbing clothes and enjoying each other’s company.

It starts slowly, like a sprinkling of water before a spring rain. Zenie had allowed her mind to wander as she worked and ended up giggling at the memory of something Bill had once said. When Mama gave her a questioning glance, she couldn’t help but tell her the story. Which gave way to another one, and another, and another, until she was telling her mother everything about her time at war.

Mama, for her part, asks questions about Shifty, smiling the whole time Zenie talks about him. “You look so happy,” she says.

“What?”

“When you talk about him,” her mother clarifies. “If you look that happy just talking about him, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when he’s actually here.” Through the soapy water of the wash bin, she reaches over and takes Zenie’s hand in her own, offering her a smile unlike one that Zenie has ever seen on her before. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad that you found someone to love so much, who makes you happy like this.”

Zenie has questions, too, and her mother has a story of her own.

“The morning I left,” Zenie begins one day, quietly. “When I turned back and saw you, I didn’t know where you thought I was going. And then I got your letter. On D-Day – the big jump. How did you know?”

There is only silence. For a moment, Zenie thinks about repeating herself, unsure if her mother heard her. But after finishing the skirt she’s washing, her mother lets out a sigh through her nose.

“I didn’t know where you were going. I just knew you were gone. And then one Sunday at church, the pastor asked for prayer requests. Bobby asked people to pray for a friend he had who was a paratrooper that had just been shipped to Europe. He doesn’t have many friends. I don’t mean that in a mean way,” she adds when she sees Zenie’s reaction to her last observation. “Besides, no one around here has a son in the Airborne. I had a feeling he knew where you had gone, so I slipped him the letter one day and asked him to make sure that it got to you. When I got a reply, well, I knew I was right.”

They lapse into silence again.

“I’m sorry,” Zenie apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Or to leave you with him.”

Momma shakes her head. “You did what you had to do.”

The silence is not so loud this time. Her words give Zenie something to think about. Because she did do what she thought that she had to do. But as she watches her mother work, she wonders if it was the right thing to do.

Much like her time back in Toccoa, the days bleed into each other in their similarity. The change of weather and the turning of the leaves marks the passage of time. Not the things that Zenie would like, such as letters from her friends, or Shifty’s glorious appearance. Not even the announcement that the war has ended in early September fixes things.

Every day when she returns home, she inspects that day’s post to find nothing for her, no matter how many letters she sends to her friends. First, her heart grows heavy. Then it grows hard. She’s been down this road before. Last time it was when Beckie moved away to the city, promising to write, and then never doing so. Funny – she wouldn’t have picked any of her fellow paratroopers as the type of people who would leave her hanging like this. Especially not Bill.

And not Shifty, who does not miraculously appear, no matter how often Zenie squints out at the top of the driveway in the distance and wills him to do so. He said he wanted to marry you, Zenie has to remind herself each and every day that passes with no word from her husband. He wouldn’t just abandon you.

He wouldn’t. She knows that. But it makes her wonder what has happened that could have made him disappear like this.

And just as unexpectedly as Shifty has disappeared, someone from her past reappears.

“Well Zena B, as I live and breathe!” The voice is so sudden, so unexpected, that Zenie drops the clothespins in her hand as she turns to face it. She’s alone in the yard, hanging up the wash while Mama makes dinner. As soon as her eyes land on Beckie – of all people – striding towards her, she’s filled with the childlike urge to run for it, though she’s not entirely sure where she would go. And she doesn’t have time to decide, because Beckie is upon her at once, wrapping her slender arms around Zenie in a hug and allowing herself a squeal of delight, as if she’s actually happy to see the friend that she stopped writing to with no explanation. When Beckie pulls back, she holds Zenie at arm’s length, inspecting her. “Your hair!”

It's been growing back quickly. Between not having Liebgott cut her hair near the end of the war and all these months spent at home, it now barely brushes the tops of her shoulders, and she hasn’t been attempting to style it like she once did. It’s not exactly like she’s been expecting anyone to see her, since her only forays into the public have been to help Mama on her rounds to collect laundry. She likes the way it looks, actually. But Beckie’s exclamation insinuates that it’s something that she should be ashamed of.

She shrugs. “I cut it.”

“Why?” Beckie lets out a gasp, her expressions exaggerated when she asks, “When you ran away?”

“How did you know about that?”

“My parents told me. I was so sad to hear that you had disappeared without a trace. But now you’re back!” She raises her eyebrows, leaning forward slightly, like she’s inviting Zenie to spill all the gory and glorious details of her adventures.

There was a time when Zenie would have divulged anything if she thought that it would make her friend happy. Except, Beckie isn’t a friend, is she? Because none of the friends that Zenie made in the army were anything like her. Not Bill, not Babe. Not Gene, who protected her secret to the last and never asked Zenie for any personal information until she offered it herself, freely. They didn’t expect things the way that Beckie does – and currently is.

Zenie shrugs again and says like an echo, “Now I’m back.”

In one swift motion, Beckie hooks her arms through Zenie’s and starts towards the house, abandoning Zenie’s laundry basket under the line, forgotten. They’re halfway there when Zenie realizes that her old friend means to invite herself in. And in the few seconds that they’ve been walking, Beckie has been talking, launching into the story of her life, seemingly picking up from where she last saw Zenie that day at the diner.

She walks a few steps before she registers that Zenie has stopped walking. Their hooked arms hold her in place, forcing her to look over at Zenie. “Aren’t we going inside?”

“No,” Zenie finds herself saying.

Beckie lets out a small laugh, just like she always did in school whenever she found something that Zenie said or did to be strange and took amusement in it. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” Zenie replies. Hearing the words aloud, she realizes that they’re true. She doesn’t want Beckie here. She doesn’t want to hear about how well she’s done in her life and her career. Zenie has done pretty well, too. But with the sadness that lurks in her heart and mind while she waits for Shifty and to hear from her friends, she knows that if she hears Beckie brag, she will fall back into the trap of comparing herself to the model and it will make her miserable to feel like she still doesn’t measure up after all this time.

“We can just talk out here,” Beckie improvises. She frowns when Zenie shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Zena, you sure do make it hard for a friend to catch up with you.”

“That’s not what you want to do.”

Beckie blinks. “Excuse me?”

“This – “ Zenie gestures vaguely, indicating all the words that Beckie had managed to pack into their short walk. “ – isn’t catching up, Beckie. You just want to brag.”

“Well, I never! Brag?! I’m just telling you about what you’ve missed since you’ve been gone.”

The last time that Zenie saw Beckie had been back at the diner, shortly before she had made her decision to run away. Beckie had bragged the entire time then, too. She probably thought she was just catching Zenie up on all the terribly interesting and fabulous things that had been happening in her life since she had moved to New York. Talking a mile a minute and never bothering to actually listen to Zenie’s responses – when she had actually bothered to let Zenie attempt to speak, that is. It had been enough that time to make Zenie realize that her life could not go on as it was. And now it’s making her realize that she’s back at square one.

She needs to get out of here – again. Even if it’s just getting away from Beckie by escaping into the house.

“You never wrote to me,” Zenie says. “after you moved away.”

Beckie scoffs, then lets out a little laugh at this ridiculous joke. “That’s why you’re upset? Zena, that’s so – so childish.”

Maybe it is. But it’s not just about those letters that she never received. It’s about Beckie kissing the boy she knew Zenie had a crush on at that Christmas party in high school. And about how she looks down on Zenie, talking over her and assuming that everything about her own life is more interesting and more important. She’s always gotten her way. Zenie had thought that after Nixon had announced her marriage in one of his current events speeches. That had embittered her, made her jealous . . .

And then she had seen Shifty. Had seen how beautiful he looked in the sunlight that day. She had realized then that she had gotten something that she wanted, too. Jealousy had melted off her, leaving her fresh and free, like new blooms in a flowerbed after a spring rain.

It doesn’t always have to be this way. There is a life out there waiting for her that is so unlike this one. She knows, because she’s been living it for the past three years. And now, her future with Shifty is so close that all she has to do is reach out and take it.

“Beckie,” Zenie starts again, only to stop herself. She doesn’t want to explain herself, and she won’t. She wrenches her arm away from Beckie and takes a step toward her house and says the thing she should have said back when they were just kids, “I think it’s best that you don’t come over anymore.”

They stare at each other for a moment, each waiting to see what the other will do. When no one speaks, Zenie finally turns and starts towards the house again.

“Fine,” Beckie calls from behind her. “You’ve changed, anyway.” From behind her, Zenie can hear Beckie start to walk away, those stomping footsteps she used to use when upset still the same after all these years. “And it’s Rebecca, by the way!”

Zenie shrugs, even though she’s not sure if Beckie can see her or not. “Okay. And my name is Zenie. Only one person gets to call me Zena.” She does turn now, one last time, just to make sure Beckie’s jaw drops when she adds, “And that’s my husband.”

#band of brothers fanfic #shifty powers #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers x original female character #oc zenie mcglamery #like a girl (like a man)#my writing

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