#like the recipes look good and everything and i like to cook and bake indeed but i actually just needed to access more soup lore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zepskies · 4 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Epilogue

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: We made it, friends. 🥹

Word Count: 2,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff and feels, that is all.

Epilogue: “Easy as Pie”

The week after the incident at Stull Storage, John, Sam, Dean, and Eileen sat down to a family dinner that you cooked in the brothers’ apartment. Aside from Eileen, all of you had injuries in one form or another (but even Sam’s shiner was healing up nicely).

For dessert, you were a bit nervous as you brought out a freshly baked apple pie. Dean caught you mentally bracing yourself before you set it down on the table. He shot you a reassuring smile.

“Looks great,” he said.

Your returning smile was tentative as you divvied out the first piece. Dean was just a bit disappointed when you handed it to John. His eyes followed the plate.

You smiled more genuinely, and made sure the next generous piece you cut was for your boyfriend.

After everyone was served, you sat down with your own plate and encouraged them all to dig in. Forks hit the crumbly top and cinnamon apple filling, and there were collective hums of pleasure throughout the room.

You brightened and glanced over at the rest of the table. John looked contemplative. His fork rested on the plate for a moment.

He gave a rare smile. “That’s some damn good pie.”

Sam nodded. “For sure.”

Dean looked over at you after he’d already demolished half of his serving. A smile spread across his face.

“Best slice of pie since I can remember,” he said, giving you a wink.

Both of you knew the weight of that review. It humbled you, making you blush.

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, rough with stubble.

“I guess this recipe’s a keeper then,” you said.

He hummed in agreement. When he went in for a real kiss, it was sweet indeed.

From then on, you all spent the evening talking, eating, laughing, with you and Sam drinking wine and everyone else their beer. You updated them on Andréa and Benny, who were planning their trip to Greece in a few months.

"We should take a vacation," Dean pointed out, gesturing around the table. "All of us."

Sam raised his brows at his brother. "Oh yeah? Where would you wanna go?"

Dean thought about it for a moment. He glanced at you, and found you smiling.

"The beach," he said. "Somewhere warm and chill, with those fancy little umbrellas in your drink."

"Hmm...I like that," you said, as your smile grew. Tropical, relaxing, a warm sun on your face, and your boyfriend in some board shorts. You could definitely go for some of that.

"Sounds nice," Eileen agreed.

"I'll look into some destinations," Sam nodded. Dean nudged his brother's shoulder.

"One word, dude. Maui."

Sam snorted. "We can't afford Maui."

"Hey, you never know, man! Time to check out some Groupons."

"You can't get a Groupon to go to Hawaii," Sam said. His face was scrunched in what Dean liked to call, his "Know It All" face.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shot back. "There's a friggin' Groupon for everything nowadays!"

Of course, that devolved into a familiar sibling argument that was only disrupted when John broke into the conversation. He admitted something shocking—that he was taking some time off work, for the first time since he took his sons camping when they were kids. Sam and Dean teased the workaholic for finally "slowing down" in his old age, but it was all in good fun.

You and Eileen shared a knowing look. It all felt as close to family as you’d had in a long time.

And for Dean, it felt like he could breathe again. He’d gotten a text shortly after dessert—from Cas.

Jo made it into the Police Academy. She starts training in a few weeks.

Dean’s lips quirked with a smile.

How do you know?

I’ll be instructing a couple of her classes. Firearm Safety and Weapons Training.

Dean nearly laughed.

Good luck, buddy. Try not to get your ass shot.

To which Cas replied:

My ass will be nowhere within range, I assure you.

Dean did chuckle at that. When you turned to him and asked what was so funny, he just shook his head and grabbed onto your hand on the table.

“Nothin’. I’m good,” he said. He pressed your knuckles to his lips. “I’m real good.”

You smiled at that.

Later that night, Dean walked his father to the door while you and Sam were locked in a trivia game, and Eileen tried to play mediator between two very competitive nerds.

“Dad,” Dean said.

John stopped with a hand on the door, turning back to his eldest.

Dean paused to gather his thoughts, but he eventually grasped his father’s arm and met his gaze.

“Just wanted to say thank you, for what you did for her,” he said, discreetly nodding at you. He kept his voice quiet. “You protected her when I couldn’t.”

John paused, seeming surprised. His brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, son,” he said.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean insisted. He’d heard every bit of that conversation between John and Daniel in that warehouse. His father had been willing to lay down and die for you, not a moment’s hesitation.

Cas was right, Dean had realized. His father did have a line.

John let out a breath. “What matters is we made it here.”

Dean nodded, though he dimmed.

“Yeah, came with one hell of a price tag.”

It still weighed heavily on him, what he’d had to do to end Daniel Savage. In the end, John had lied on his statement of the events. He’d taken responsibility for grabbing Daniel’s gun and shooting him between the eyes.

“It’s the only thing I can do to keep you out of this,” John had told his son. “Should’ve been my hand anyway.”

Dean appreciated what his dad had done to protect him from the law, and his career, but it still made him feel dirty. A strike to his integrity as a first responder, and as a man. That was something he’d just have to deal with, along with everything else.

John distracted him, however, by gripping his shoulder this time.

“You saved my life, Dean,” he said. And with a hint of a smile, “It’s what you’re good at.”

Dean met his dad’s gaze. He wasn’t quite able to smile back, but there was new warmth in his chest.

“Oh,” said John, raising a finger. “Before I forget…”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver engagement ring with a small stone. To Dean, it looked familiar…

When it finally struck him what this was, he looked up at John in surprise. Dean glanced back to make sure you weren’t looking before he tentatively took the ring.

“Is this…Mom’s?” he asked.

John nodded. “The stone’s nothing special. You might wanna get it reset. Sam already figured out his uh…situation on his own. Maybe you want to find your own too.”

Dean knew what he meant. Sam had bought a ring last year, but he'd proposed to Eileen just a few days ago. They were already planning to get married a year from now, along with buying their first house together.

Dean examined the ring he held with a softer smile.

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said.

He didn’t know yet if you two were ready for that step. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time…but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

He had time to do things right with you.

A few months later, Dean’s medical leave ended. He was physician-approved for duty, psych evaluation and all. He showed up for his shift bright and early.

He entered the doors of Firehouse 25 to a host of his friends and makeshift family cheering, complete with cheesy streamers and an even cheesier cake that Meg held. On the top was scrawled: Good Job Cracking Your Head.

“A smoke eater returns to the house!” Benny remarked with a grin. “Good to see ya, brother.”

He clapped Dean heavily enough on the back that it earned a grunt and a laugh out of him.

“You too, man,” Dean replied.

Meg set down the cake on the table and was the next one to playfully punch him in the shoulder.

“You have a nice little vacation?” she teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, complete with bottomless margaritas and little umbrellas.”

She smirked, but she was still earnest when she touched his arm.

“Welcome back.”

Dean chuckled. “Ooh, now I know you missed me.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she waved a dismissive hand at him. Chuck and Jack gave more sincere well wishes, with the latter actually hugging Dean. He’d tolerated it with a smile.

Gordon clapped him on the shoulder once Jack was finally done, and Dean sent the Candidate off with a bright smile on his face.

Gordon smiled. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

Dean nodded and shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for holdin’ down the fort, man.”

“No problem,” Gordon said. “Any time you wanna go on sabbatical, you just let me know. Acting Lieutenant’s almost better than the real deal. It’s not as much paperwork.”

Dean chuckled, but before he could sling back a retort, the alarm went off. There was a working house fire downtown, according to the dispatcher in the overhead speaker.

Bobby appeared in the hall and clapped his hands once.

“All right, gear up. We’re startin’ off the day right,” he said. He gave Dean a look that was somehow both pleased to see him and stern at the same time. Bobby addressed him with a point of his finger.

“See me in my office before the end of shift,” he said. “We’ve got somethin’ to talk about.”

A few days later, Dean had the rare pleasure of welcoming you home from work on his day off. You trudged into the apartment with several bags and rolling a cooler behind you. He got up from the couch and grabbed some of the bags for you on your way to the kitchen.

“How did it go?” he asked, reaching out a hand to rub some flour off your cheek. You smiled brightly.

“Well, there was a little snafu with the mini quiche, but they loved the menu I proposed. They want me to cater the whole wedding!” you said.

“Whoa, that’s a lotta food,” Dean remarked. Once you’d dumped the rest of your stuff on the kitchen table, he slid an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, earning a squeal from you.

You clung to his shoulders. “You still on for being my official taste tester?”

He stared at you with mock offense.

“Uh, obviously. Mini quiche are my weakness,” he teased. “Just another form of pie, far as I’m concerned.”

You giggled into his lips as he claimed you for a kiss. It was both sweet, and a bit naughty as his hands moved to squeeze your ass. His words were no less heartfelt.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean said. “I really am.”

You smiled and stroked his cheek in answer.

The Monday morning after that family dinner a few months ago, you’d quit your job at Savage & Co. After a month of wracking your brain and your savings, you decided to start your own catering business.

It was your way of starting small, to try and get people in this town to know you for your food and baked goods. And maybe, if you were successful enough, you’d be able to open up your own bakery in a couple of years.

For once, you were going after what you truly wanted…but now, your career was only part of it.

You hadn’t forgotten your conversation with Dean about what he wanted for his future: of getting married someday, and having a family. Something he could build for himself.

Not only did you want that for him, but you’d begun to crave that for yourself as well: a family of your own.

Realistically, you knew that part was years away for you and Dean. However, you had that in the back of your mind. Having your own business had always been your dream, but sometimes your dream could adjust.

Or, it could become something new.

You’d also sold your grandparents’ house. You had contemplated going back, but you didn’t want to be reminded of how the police and the Arson Department had torn it apart after Daniel Savage threatened your life. You didn’t want to be reminded of where both of your grandparents died.

You loved that house, but you also knew it was time to let it go…

Because you finally understood what your grandfather had tried to tell you months ago.

A house did not make a home. And now, you’d managed to make a new one.

For his part, Dean had been happy to have you stay in his apartment. Sam was getting ready to move out in a few months anyway, as he and Eileen were deep into house hunting and planning their wedding.

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he held your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little.

“They want to promote me to Captain,” he said.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes went wide.

“They? Who’s they?” you asked.

Dean blew out a breath and scratched at the small scar on the side of his head.

“Apparently it came from the Battalion Chief.”

He explained that the Fire Department had gotten the full debrief from both Sam and John about Dean’s involvement in ending the serial arsons and murders committed by Nick and Daniel Savage. Without you and Dean, they wouldn’t have figured out Azazel’s identity, let alone stopped his criminal enterprise.

You smiled wide with excitement as you held Dean’s face in your hands.

“That’s amazing!” you said. You pulled him in for a hug. Though he held you back, you soon realized that you were happier than he seemed to be. You pulled back and carded your fingers through his hair, earning his gaze.

“What’s wrong, baby? This is great news!”

Dean’s lips pursed. “I don’t know. I broke ranks and defied a direct order at the Savage & Co. fire. And at the warehouse, I was even more reckless. I don’t want to be promoted for disobeying orders.”

You frowned at that, even as you continued to stroke through his hair.

“What did Bobby tell you?” you asked.

Once again, Dean sighed. He’d been called into Bobby’s office a few days ago, after his first shift back at 25.

He’d surprised the hell out of Dean.

“Did you break ranks that day, and put not just yourself, but Benny and the rest of your men in danger?” Bobby said. “You bet your ass.”

Dean averted his gaze. He stood with his hands drawn behind his back, willing to take whatever punishment the Chief saw fit.

“But,” Bobby continued. His fingers tapped on his desk, where he sat on the edge across from Dean. “It wasn’t fair of me to stop you from lookin’ for your girlfriend.”

Dean’s attention sharpened at that, and he frowned in confusion. Bobby didn’t apologize. Ever.

“Sir?” Dean asked uncertainly.

Bobby softened the slightest bit. He heaved a sigh.

The man was a widower, but he still wore his wedding ring. He toyed with it now on his finger.

“We could’ve radioed in with the other teams already at work. I could’ve paired half of your team with the top floor units. But in the heat of the moment, I made a judgment call,” Bobby said, leveling Dean with a look. “As a leader, you’ll continue makin’ mistakes. You’ll make the wrong call. It’s how you learn to keep leading that matters. And there ain’t a person in this house that wouldn’t have gone up to pull your fool head outta that fire.”

Dean stayed quiet in his discomfort. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Bobby was telling him all of this.

“That being said, this is coming from the top,” Bobby said. His gruffness was back. He took a folder off his desk and handed it to Dean. “Here’s the next step, if you choose to accept it.”

You were crying by the end of his story. Dean cupped your cheek and caught your tears with his thumb. You grabbed that hand and gently squeezed.

“He believes in you, Dean,” you said. “So do I. And it’s my turn to be so damn proud of you.”

Dean graced you with a smile for that one. Yours brightened. You moved off the couch and slid into his lap, twining your arms around his neck. Dean welcomed you with an arm around your waist and a hand sliding up your jean-clad thigh.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get used to calling you Captain,” you said with a smirk.

Captain Winchester, Dean considered, rolling the weight of it around in his mind.

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I'm liking the sound of that.”

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought,” you said, shortly before you pressed your lips to his. He squeezed your hip while your deft fingers once again slipped into his hair. With each new kiss, Dean felt more of his uncertainty melt away.

A new thought occurred to him then. It made him start to grin against your lips, and you parted from him.

“What?” you asked in amusement.

Dean slipped a hand into his pocket, where he felt the outline of his mother’s newly resized ring.

“Hey,” he said. Your brows drew together in suspicion at the gleam in his eye.

“Hey, yourself,” you quipped.

Dean breathed in deep, steeling himself. He looked into your eyes, and he smiled.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

AN: ...And I think we all know what her answer was. ❤️‍🔥

I can't believe it! I started posting this story on September 15, the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month. Almost four months later, we finally made it to the end of Smoke Eater. 🥹

Thank you to all of you who've been following along at any point of the journey. Your comments and feedback have truly touched me, and have helped keep me going! 💕

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways

#Easy as Pie #Smoke Eater #Epilogue #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #Castiel #zepskies writes

419 notes · View notes

hikarry · 4 months

Text

I imagine Crowley, in his long existence, has never ever even attempted to cook or bake something. After all, eating has always been an excuse to take Aziraphale out and hang out. And it's not even like he eats a lot. He clearly prefers drinking.

And yet, when they move to the South Downs, it's a bit different, innit? The South Downs is no London where in every corner there's a restaurant or a bakery and there's always a new spot to discover. If they want to eat out they have to drive for a while and it's not like they have a lot of options. All in all, it's just not very efficient. But Aziraphale likes food. And Crowley loves to watch him eat.

I have no doubt Crowley becomes the cook of the household, all for the love of the angel. And he also ends up liking it cause he likes to follow recipes and keeps his mind busy. Aziraphale's smile is just a bonus, really.

Alas, it takes a while for him to get good at it and the first time he tries can be described as one of the most frustrating ventures of his life.

At first he decides to wing it. Something simple, out of the stuff they have in the refrigerator and the pantry. How hard can it be? Humans have been doing it since de beginning of time! It turns out it can, indeed, be quite difficult. He burns everything, makes a mess of the kitchen. Somehow there's flour in the counter tops and he hasn't even touched the flour! Or was it sugar? Regardless, he didn't use sugar either!

He ends up caving in and pulling his phone, searching for EASY and BEGINNER FRIENDLY recipes. The angel doesn't need to know about it.

Welp, even following the recipe he ends up with his sleeves soaked with water, an egg on the floor, somehow the flour is back even tho he miracled it away 10 minutes ago and a burned hand, that he heals not before screaming bloody murder. Luckily Aziraphale wasn't at home.

Eventually, in between all his failed attempts, he starts running out of supplies and starts miracling them as he needs them.

After 3 hours, and 10 minutes before Aziraphale is due to arrive home, he is finally successful and extremely exhausted because of all the miracles.

When Aziraphale arrives, Crowley presents him with a somewhat fancy grilled cheese sandwich (yes. He started with proper meals and ended up in sandwiches).

"Oh dear, you made this?"

"Yup."

"I didn't know you could cook!"

"It's a sandwich, angel. Can't really be considered cooking."

They walk to the living room, when Crowley remembers you can see the kitchen from said living room, and it still looks like a war zone.

"It looks scrumptious, nonetheless!"

"Yeah, thanks." He snaps his fingers behind his back to tidy up the kitchen and close the window he had opened because of the smoke and the smell of burned food before they actually arrive in the living room. "Do you want some tea with that?"

"That would be lovely."

Okay, tea he could do in front of Aziraphale. Tea is easy. Just some warm water and leaves. He has done it a million times before for the angel. He can't fuck it up, right? After the most humiliating 3 hours of his life, he isn't so sure.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley

190 notes · View notes

darlingkirstein · 2 months

Note

Hi, Mar! I saw you're taking prompts. What about bored 1950s housewife Mikasa and Milkman Eren? 🫢

Housewife Mikasa/Milkman Eren (1950s AU)

wc: 4.8k / nsfw / cheating thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :) i’ll probably be posting this to ao3 as well!

Her husband kisses her cheek — a kiss lacking any desired affection, more a routine obligation than anything else — as she hovers over the countertop, flattening the pie crust over the pan. She’s been requested (instructed, more precisely) to make one of her “famous” blueberry pies for a little gathering between the neighbors. They’re her husband’s favorite — and he jokes that he’ll be a real wet rag if he doesn’t get a taste.

“Off to work,” He grumbles, his glance lazily lingering on her fingers as she works the crust around the delicate edges. “Smells good.”

There’s no smell. I haven’t even started baking.

Still, Mikasa forces a pleasant smile — flashing her prettiest doe eyes up at him.

“Just for you, dear. It’ll be ready for the party.”

“You’re a doll.” He pats her waist, simpering. For a moment, there’s a return to the man Mikasa married years ago — the loving, fun, sweet man who courted her with trips to the cinema.

Mikasa allows foolish hope get the best of her.

“If it makes you happy—”

He squashes her hankering before it can properly take root. “You know what would make me happy? If you wore that gorgeous red dress. You know, that one that I can’t get enough of?”

It takes great strain to prevent her smile from floundering. She doesn’t want to displease him — even if he hardly sees her as anything more valuable than a manifestation of his most casually-depraved fantasies. A piece of meat, worth nothing more than to gawk at instead of compliment, fondle instead of pleasure.

Mikasa nods. “I’ll do that. Run along now.”

He’s out the door quick. Across the street, the neighbor’s yappy little mutt barks up a storm; children laugh as they play games. The summer heat provides such a wonderful atmosphere for frivolity, good restful fun, but none of that luxury is afforded to Mikasa. She knows she’ll spend her day tending to the chores. Baking, so much baking — and dusting every last crevice in their home. It’ll need to be spotless for the party. All the other wives judge her handiwork, Mikasa knows this, even if they’re too gentle to tell. They’ll judge her cooking, too. Comparing recipes and weighing the benefit of certain seasonings is far more competitive than she’d like it to be.

She gets to work. Toiling and toiling. The minutes drain quickly, never enough time in the day to accomplish everything she wishes. With one task completed, Mikasa remembers three more to take its place — an endless, most tedious cycle.

The days bleed together. Chores, making meals, and dull conversations with her husband — nothing to set them apart, nothing to deem it a life worth living for the decades to come. As she cleans, she wonders if things will ever go back to the way they were before — or if some miracle can swoop in to offer a fresh new existence.

A knock on the door interrupts her dusting.

She’s happy for any moment of respite. Opening the door, Mikasa is greeted by a handsome man — a very handsome man, indeed — who holds a basket filled with jars of fresh milk. He’s new; their precious milkman was a crotchety middle-aged gentleman who— well, wasn’t much of a gentleman, lacking any way with pleasantries.

This one’s much easier on the eyes.

He took off his hat and tipped it her direction. “Morning, miss. I’ve got a delivery for you.”

Mikasa notices his smile first, his pretty teeth — but it’s impossible to ignore the rest of him, hair so reminiscent of James Dean, an actor she harbors private affections for, hidden from her husband. Under the sunlight, the green in his eyes truly shimmers. He looks like something right out of a Vogue cover — and Mikasa’s smitten. Somehow, this man manages to make the milkman uniform look dignified, alluring even.

She flattens her dress, embarrassed by the flour stains coating the front and all the wrinkles ruining the elegance of the fabric.

“Good morning.” The beam on her lips is uncontrollable; she can’t remember the last time her husband made her smile like this. “I very much appreciate you, sir. You’re kind to knock.”

“This hot sun could spoil the milk.” His eyes find the stains on her dress, as she fears. “You look like a busy lady. I sure am sorry if I’m intruding.”

She steps outside, not thinking clearly. “No, no! You haven’t done a thing. It’s quite nice to have a visitor. It gets lonely around here sometimes.”

He grins. Mikasa tucks her hands behind her back, trying to conceal her wedding ring.

“Lonely? Don’t you have a husband, ma’am?”

She blushes. Caught. Mikasa’s heart beats faster than she’d like — full of shame. What would the other wives think if they saw her? The last thing she needs is to be called filthy names, accused of terrible, terrible crimes. That doesn’t stop her from swooning as the milkman smiles.

“Ah— I do. He just works so long. I have the house all to myself. The record player’s dull company.”

“No children?”

Mikasa shakes her head — another point of shame. All the other women already started their families; some had another child on the way. Her husband showed little interest in love-making. Whenever he returned home from work, he complained about being too tired — only seeking a warm meal in his belly and a funny show on the television to fall asleep to. When the fancy did strike him, it was a quick affair, far more beneficial for his pleasure than hers — almost animalistic. He whispers no tender phrases nor any amorous praises into her ear when he’s inside her — only hardened grunts, none too appealing for Mikasa.

“No, sir. Just the two of us here.”

Just as he opens his mouth to answer, the oven inside alerts her to the pie finishing its baking. Her head swings in the sound’s direction — dreading the result the noise might have on the pleasant conversation being shared.

“That’s my pie. I better check on it.”

He unsheathes a jar from the basket and presents it to her. “Well, you’ll see me again tomorrow, ma’am. Could you save me a slice of that pie?”

Mikasa’s fingers wrap around the jar, though her eyes don’t stray from his. She smiles her prettiest smile — this one authentic, nothing forced about it in the slightest — and nods. If her mornings consisted of this man at her doorstep, that’s a routine she favors getting acclimated to.

“Are you sure you don’t want something fresh?”

“No, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to impose.”

Hugging the jar to her chest, Mikasa flushes. She wonders how obvious the scarlet appears across her cheeks. “You’re a rather thoughtful man.”

“Well, ma’am — forgive me for saying this, but you’re a rather pretty lady. My momma taught me that pretty ladies deserve good manners.”

Mikasa has to drag her gaze away, turning her face to conceal the enjoyment in her features. Her stomach twists into little tangles; this is what she’s been missing ever since getting married. How long has it been since her husband made her feel like a woman worthy of love, worthy of some grandiose affection? Far too long, those fleeting moments all but forgotten. Mikasa toys with the chance, whatever minuscule chance exists, that the gorgeous milkman can grant her the attention she yearns to so richly acquire.

“You’re a handsome man yourself.” She cannot — doesn’t want to — control her words, forbidden and sinful as they are. A quick glance informs her he’s a bachelor, no ring wrapped around his finger, no woman waiting for him back home.

For a moment, Mikasa thinks something might happen, but the man only accepts her compliment with a fond twitch of a grin.

“I best be off to the next house. You take care, ma’am. Don’t work yourself too hard, now.”

Too flustered to conjure a proper response, all Mikasa manages is a little wave of her fingers before he’s heading down the driveway.

One thing comes to her, however.

She calls after him. “Mister! What’s your name?”

He turns, adjusting his hat back atop his hair. “Eren. Do I get the treat of knowing yours?”

“Mikasa.” She gives it up fervently, not-so-secretly yearning to hear her name from his lips.

“You’ve got a gorgeous name, miss. Seems everything about you is something special.”

He’s back on his merry way in a flash, off to deliver milk to the Thompsons. Eren, she repeats to herself over and over. Already, Mikasa counts down to the following day — when she’ll get the satisfaction of watching him sample her pie.

As routine demands, Eren returns to Mikasa’s house right on schedule the day after.

He raps on her door and waits patiently — that patience swiftly rewarded with the sight of Mikasa, even more beautiful than yesterday. Her hair, curled above her shoulders, frames her lovely face charmingly. The red lipstick coating her mouth draws Eren in without hesitation. Today, no flour coats her clothes — her chosen dress, spotless and practically wrinkle-free, gives her such a delightful appearance. Eren grins.

“You look like you’re in good spirits today.”

“Much better,” she admits. “My husband phoned me just now. He’ll be staying late at the office.”

One eyebrow cocks. “That’s why you’re happy?”

“Oh, no — I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I didn’t like having my husband around, would I?”

Eren stifles a grin — clever, clever girl. He takes a step closer to the door, closer to Mikasa.

“I think any man could count himself lucky to have someone like you for a wife, Mikasa.”

Watching her attempt to hide the thrill his words provided her gives Eren an equal thrill of his own — he chides himself for not taking this job sooner, for missing out on the gem of Mikasa’s flirtatious gazes for months and months.

“I saved you some pie, like you asked.” She pauses, looking back. Eren’s heart quickens, his expectations growing. “Would you like to come inside for a sample? I’d cherish your opinion.”

“It wouldn’t be very polite of me to refuse a girl’s invitation, don’t you think? I’ll happily get a taste.”

Already, Eren’s favorite part of Mikasa is how easily she flusters, her pale skin revealing all too simply her internal feelings so poorly hidden. His words, so intentionally veering toward something less-then-chaste, strike her deep — Eren watches Mikasa fidget with her fingers before guiding him inside their home — another man’s home.

“Here.” She gestures to the kitchen island, to a slice of pie and a fork to accompany it. “I made a plate just for you — hid it from my husband.”

The milk deliveries for the day are abandoned beside just inside the home’s entrance — he hopes nobody complains of his tardiness, but more pressing matters require his attention. Offered a seat at the island, Eren takes it gladly.

“This is very generous of you, Mikasa. Are you such an angel to every stranger at your door?”

“No,” she tells him, fetching a new milk jar from his basket and unstoppering it to fill a glass for him. “Just the ones I like. The handsome ones that say all the sweetest things to me.”

Grinning, Eren severs a tiny piece from the pie and pops it in his mouth — instantly hit with the blueberry flavor and the savory crust. Mikasa, half distracted as she wipes away some crumbs from the countertops, glances back.

“Well? Do you like it? I tried something different with the filling this time. Do you think it’s okay?”

He swallows, instantly returning for another bite.

“It’s perfect, Mikasa. You’re inhuman.”

“Inhuman? Is that a compliment?”

“I mean you’re too good to explain. It’s not everyday you meet a knockout girl who knows her way around a man’s appetites.”

She set aside her cleaning cloth. Returning to Eren’s proximity, her smile gives hints into a more playful side — blossoming from the adorable shyness permeating her actions during their monumental introduction.

“Do I know your appetites, sir?”

Her innocence entices him, his heart fluttering. Does she realize how beautiful she looks when her eyes are all beady and curious, watching their subject with a gaze imbedded with coquetry.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s flustered.

“I certainly think you might.”

Mikasa comes closer — taking a seat at the island, resting against the counter. Eren suspects she doesn’t get much time for leisure like this — his mother, back in his youth, spent so much time in the kitchen her fingers were rubbed raw, not a life befitting a beautiful woman like Mikasa.

She smiles; her voice softens.

“Maybe tomorrow I can give you a whole pie.”

Sticking his fork into the filling, Eren bites his bottom lip, suppressing a smirk.

“That’s too much to ask for.”

“Oh, it’s not too bad.” Mikasa has mastered the art of looking coy, yet poised. “Besides, who else will make you a pie? You’re not married.”

The way she says it sounds like a challenge.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve been missing out.”

She laughs, and it’s not the same rehearsed laughter he hears from all his friend’s wives, the one out on for show — it’s a real laugh, free of discipline and regulation, all free-flowing.

“So — why aren’t you married?”

Eren sighs and scoops more pie into his mouth, indulging in its sublime sweetness.

“All the pretty girls have husbands already. That, or they don’t fancy marrying the milkman.”

Mikasa looks back to the counter, her fingers coming to her teeth, nails bitten. For a moment, Eren worries he’s upset her — but he sees her stifling more laughter, too amused for her own good. Sideways glances come his way; she reminds him of the gals back in high school, waiting to be asked for the prom.

“Tell me about your husband,” he continues.

She looks at him, confused. “Why?”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy with him.” The image of her hiding her ring hasn’t left Eren — he’s not nearly as ashamed as he probably should be when he hopes to win her over, his gorgeous client in the gorgeous dress, with the lovely laugh.

“He’s not much of a romantic anymore. He likes my cooking and my outfits, but that feels like all I’m good for these days. That, and—”

She cuts herself off, blushing hard.

“And?”

“Nothing I should say out loud.”

Mikasa’s little more than a stranger, but Eren’s so drawn to her, drawn to everything about her. She’s the best-looking woman this side of the Equator, with a honeyed smile just as saccharine as her personality. Her husband, he attests, is the biggest fool on either side of the Equator.

“He really oughta treat you better.”

Something shifts in her gaze, Eren sees it. Mikasa leans closer, grabbing his wrist. There’s a desperation present in her eyes — one he surmises has been festering for quite some time. Is he the first man to pay her a compliment?

When she speaks again, it’s hushed, like she’s afraid of any eavesdroppers — spies for her husband, maybe. “How would you treat me?”

Eren flushes, swallowing hard. He looks into those eyes, those pleading pupils — and cups her cheek, thumbs rubbing over her skin.

He can’t properly comprehend what he’s doing. Her wedding ring tickles his wrist, the metal so cold against his skin, but her skin feels so warm, warm enough to tempt him further. Grinning, Eren’s face inches closer to hers, close enough to smell the perfume clinging to her neck.

“Right, Mikasa. I’d treat you right.”

Mikasa swallows. Butterflies dance around in her stomach, fighting for a way out. It’s wrong, she tries to convince herself, but the words feel like such a blatant lie — how could something wrong feel so painfully good, so inexplicably wanted?

His touch feels damn near electric. “You would?”

“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to show you?”

Mikasa’s chest clenches, but it’s a nice clench — mostly. She knows there’s no turning back after this, but by God’s glory, she needs it, needs Eren. Her lips ache in anticipation, watching his hover before her face, patiently stalling to latch on.

She nods, holding his free hand tight. “Yes, sir— I mean— I’d like that very much, Eren.”

Eren smiles. With his fingers, he draws her face closer until their mouths meet. His kiss isn’t aggressive — it’s slow and measured, so patient. Mikasa fights the urge to weep; she can’t remember the last time her husband kissed her like this, kissed her like he truly loved her. Within her chest, her heart runs at an uncontrollable pace, threatening to leap right out.

Mikasa tries to control her kiss — the last thing she wants is to scare him off by being overzealous, too opportunistic with his affections. It’s difficult — each second with his mouth on hers pumps such good feelings through her body, leaving her damn near drunk on the impact.

She tastes the pie on his lips — her pie. Somehow, that makes Mikasa even giddier. She vows to make him a hundred pies if he’ll reward each slice with kisses like this one.

Mikasa feels the wetness building between her thighs — ending the total drought she’s endured under her husband’s dominion. It’s a girlish feeling, being so besotted with a handsome, handsome man again. It should cause her shame, Mikasa knows, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. The only shame surrounding her is the shame that she hasn’t sought this out sooner.

None of the neighbors had husbands nearly as gorgeous as Eren. Her husband, even in his best days, couldn’t hold a candle to him.

“My husband— He’ll be gone for a while,” Mikasa whines between kisses. “Will you stay with me?”

Eren’s grip on her face tightens. He feels his warm exhales against her mouth, eyes fixated on the way he smirks like he’s won a lottery ticket.

“As long as you’d like, miss.”

Mikasa wants his body closer, wants more of his warmth, too spoiled to accept it only against her tongue. She takes his mouth again, claiming it in another enthusiastic kiss — but her tempted hands wander south, playing with the hem of her dress’ skirt, tugging it up her thighs.

“Touch me,” Mikasa pleads. “Please, mister.”

He smiles against her kiss. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll beg you if I must. Oh, touch me.”

His palm finds a place on her thigh, fingers locked around, pressing into her soft flesh. “Sweetheart,” Eren calls her, and oh, how she swoons. “You don’t have to beg me for nothing. Let me help.”

Eren’s fingers hide underneath her dress and ever swiftly find the source of her ache, slipping inside. Mikasa’s body recoils — overwhelmed by little more than one tender touch — and her fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him lodged there.

His mouth finds her neck. It’s been so long since Mikasa’s received any attention on her neck.

“There, oh, right there,” she moans, eyes squeezing shut. Eren rubs her slowly — and she’s left guessing whether he does it to tease her or because he’s such a gentleman.

He falls silent, so focused on pleasuring her. Deft fingers make a bigger mess of her wetness, drenching his fingertips in her sweet liquid, while his lips threaten tender bruises against her skin.

“Be careful,” Mikasa whispers, smiling. “My husband might see— he’ll get suspicious.”

Eren grins; attentive sucks become light kiss against her throat. “Maybe he should, Mikasa — maybe he’ll learn his lesson and treat you right.”

She shakes her head. “He’s never been this good to me. Never. Oh, don’t stop — please, don’t.”

Never straying from his task, Eren teases her sex for as long as he can. His mouth switches between her sensitive, markable flesh and her soft, welcoming lips, but his fingers never leave her cunt — far too absorbed in their mission to even think about quitting. Mikasa tries to remember a past memory where she felt this good, this tended to, but no memory comes.

Dizzy, intoxicated by his touch, she gets greedy.

“The bedroom— let’s go there, Eren. Please?”

“Your room?” Eren stills his fingers. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking, miss?”

Any prior embarrassment she may have felt making this request vanished long ago — unbridled by shame, too bloated with unquenchable lust, Mikasa is breathless.

“Make love to me. I miss it, I miss it so much. Make love to me, sir. Remind me what it’s like.”

His hand falls away from her cunt; whatever momentary emptiness that triggers is forgotten when Eren lifts her from her chair and asks for guidance in finding the master bedroom.

Inside, Eren rests her atop her sheets. Her legs spread naturally for him, dress skirt falling without struggle, inviting him in for a taste. She looks to her left — on the bedside table, their wedding photograph greets her. Mikasa gets an unwomanly glee out of her husband having premium seating to see another man do his job.

She watches Eren smile like a kid in a candy shop — not the leer he husband throws her way when he’s finally in the mood to get relief, but a grin of determination, determination to make her happy.

He pushes her dress further up her body, far enough for him to lower his mouth to her stomach, kissing her belly. The knots haven’t left, only growing stronger — Eren’s lips tend to the least cultivated parts of her body with great care. Mikasa writhes against the ticklish sensation, smiling graciously. Heaven’s finally answered all her silent prayers, her hidden desires, a gift for her years of devotion to faulty matrimony.

Above all else, Eren’s eyes make her feel best — in the midst of his tender kisses, his gaze finds her happily. That attention, that focus — Mikasa doesn’t need to tilt her gaze to recognize how stained her panties have become.

His fingers hook around them, but he tugs them away slowly, tediously slow, leaving a trail of sweet kisses down her midsection as the air finally hits her cunt with a shiver. Mouth teasing the skin around her sex, Eren smiles, letting all the little hairs tickle between his nose and chin.

“Mikasa, darling,” he starts, softly. “Does your husband ever do this for you? Ever?”

“Never.” Darling — much better than doll.

Nearly too dazed to properly focus, Mikasa swears that Eren’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing. He says nothing more before his tongue presses against her sweet flesh, drinking up her wetness like lemonade on a day hot as this one.

Her legs tighten around him, tight enough to knock the milkman’s hat right off his head. Fingers meddling in his pretty hair, Mikasa guides his mouth to the parts of her aching the loudest, but Eren needs little instruction.

Mikasa wonders how she tastes; her husband’s mouth never sampled her cunt, only his fingers, if she could consider herself lucky enough on those evenings to be given even that much.

Eren’s hands press her thighs into the mattress; Mikasa’s back arches, driving her cunt further into his mouth, utterly inescapable. Whimpers fall off her tongue just as easily as his tongue edges her closer and closer to fruition — the knots in her stomach tighten, so tight it’s damn near painful. Every slow lick he gifts her feels like salvation, too joyfully sinful to dare divulging at the confessional. It’s a treat to her ears as much as it is to her eyes and her sex; Eren’s mouth enjoys her without restraint, loud enough for Mikasa to hear every lick, every suck, every gasp for air.

The longer he licks, the more impatient she grows to have the rest of Eren, too.

“Eren,” she yelps, hips wild in their movements. “Mister— Please, make love to me. Take me.”

He softens, determination melting to a mellow simpler. After his tongue laps up one last sample of her wetness, Eren rises — off comes his uniform top, revealing a simple, far more comfortable undershirt. He tries taking off his pants, but the inconvenience seems to burden him, and the garments only make it around his thighs before he’s climbing on top of her.

Mikasa welcomes him into her arms — her legs wrap around him, keeping him close. The summer weather makes the room so humid; sweat clings to his skin, passing onto her pretty dress. Another chore adds to the pile, but she’ll do whatever extra laundry is required to enjoy this.

Eren kisses her hungrily, with desire, though a different desire from her husband’s. The man she married claims her as his property, his little maid — Eren strives to please, to pamper, to redeem. Her lipstick smudges around the corners, the residue swapping to his lips. Mikasa blushes; between her cunt’s wetness and the ruby-red lipstick, she’s left a real impression on his face.

Eren breaks their kiss, panting. Rustling around. Mikasa knows he’s fumbling around to get his cock out. “How long’s it been, sweetheart?”

“Since what?” She blinks, staring woozily.

“Since your husband made love to you.”

It’s not a number Mikasa struggles to recall. “Two months— Two months, nearly three.”

He scoffs, clicking his tongue. “I’ll fix that, okay?”

Before she’s able to convey her appreciation in any meaningful manner, Eren carefully sheathes himself inside her cunt, submerging inch by inch until his hips are properly introduced to hers.

Her husband prefers to take her from behind. Mikasa’s much more partial to Eren’s approach.

His thrusts are slow, gentle. Mikasa’s fingernails grip his back, pressing him even closer. He smells of sweat— and of her, and Mikasa revels in the aroma. Eren’s cock quenches a thirst she’s been suffering from for too long; the fullness in her cunt has been a source of fantastical daydreams, private, unladylike yearnings — all realized, in her husband’s bed, under his utter obliviousness.

Mikasa whimpers and moans for Eren so easily. Each thrust brings a wave of pleasure that she couldn’t dream of containing in her throat.

Eren grins with every sound she makes. “He’s a goddamn fool, darling,” he mutters. “A fool.”

“I know,” Mikasa whines back. “I know.”

His pace grows — never too much, but enough to push Mikasa close to the brink swiftly. His mouth grants affections at every opportunity; Mikasa’s lips, her collarbone, her neck, the top of her cleavage (the part that teases him most), even the lobes of her ears receive his benevolence.

Euphoria. His cock travels deep inside. The moment Eren reaches down and presses his palm against her belly, Mikasa loses control — her stomach and all its tangles start to unravel, the tension building, building — and culminating in a cascade of relief that washes over her as she drenches his cock in still more of her wetness.

Eren groans; his release takes longer. Mikasa cries out as he takes her, truly takes her, his thrusts taking care of her sopping wet cunt. The sounds alone are nearly enough to grant her another round of pleasure — but Mikasa clings to him, her dress crinkling and rustling as his thrusts grow stronger, so strong until the fullness abandons her entirely, the loss accompanied by Eren’s baritone, beautiful moans, drawn out as he paints her belly with strings of sheet white.

Though Mikasa doesn’t dare voice it, she almost longs for some of Eren’s release to linger inside her cunt, long enough to sprout. Better your child than his, she thinks, blushing at the shame.

Their breathing falls in tandem.

“Do you feel better now, Mikasa?” His voice is hushed now, too, thumb stroking her chin.

Rendered speechless, she nods.

Grinning, Eren kisses her — and again, and for a third time, the longest. To her disappointment, he’s up too soon after, redressing, fixing his hair. Mikasa frowns, forcing herself up to her elbows.

“I wish you wouldn’t have to go.”

“I know — but if I don’t deliver the milk on time, I’ll be fired. And if I’m fired,” he pauses, looking down at the ground as he smiles. “Well, then I won’t have any excuse to pay you more visits.”

Mikasa blushes. She knows he’s right.

“Remember,” she coos, biting her lip. “I’ll make you a whole pie tomorrow. My thanks.”

Eren finishes dressing — but he can’t wipe the grin off his face as he returns for one final kiss.

“My favorite’s cherry. But I still don’t know if it’ll taste nearly as good as you do, darling.”

#eremika #eremika headcannon #fic writing #my writing #darlingkirstein asks #darlingkirstein fics #darlingkirstein prompts #darlingkirstein smut #eremika smut

77 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 8 months

Note

Okay, another one!

Baking buddies!

(If I recall correctly, Julian likes to/knows how to bake, right? Or I could be wrong, I've been switching social media 😅 But I think you did mention it somewhere here🤔 But I hope I got it right, otherwise, this can be ignored 😭)

This one is what the title implied, baking buddies! Featuring Ziana again, and Rain (@silly-farmer's farmer, since she also can bake/likes to bake. If you know some farmers/NPCs who also know how to bake, feel free to add them as well! I don't know many farmers like you do, unfortunately 😭🙏🏻)

Imagine them all (Julian, Rain & Ziana) good at baking but then there is one that they haven't baked yet (probably... Strange Bun for example in here? 🤔) and one of them suggested trying this out together. So, imagine the scene as they all mess up and struggle in the kitchen trying to bake this thing and after many errors, it's done! And now, for the taste!

The result...? (Up to you 👀 Is it good? Or bad and that they worked hard in vain? This is also another funny interaction, hehe.)

Have fun! ^^ I don't know why I have so many ideas (this is like, a gist of it) 😅🙏🏻

Uh, have a good day, Mousy, and uh, bye! *runs* 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Hello again! Here's another story, and thanks for the question!

This time, in addition to Julian and Ziana, the heroes will also be Rain (@silly-farmer) and Wren (@girls4zelda). This story is shorter than the previous one, hope you don't mind. Enjoy ❤️

_________________________________________

"The culinary disaster"

________________________________________

The spacious cottage kitchen was filled with various sounds and pleasant aromas. The banging of pans against each other, the sweet smell of strawberry jam, the heat from the oven where baked goods were baking, the noise of water from the tap, the kettle boiling.... And talking, so much talking. Of course, because there are not one but four cooks in the room at once, running from one part of the kitchen to another, trying to get the food everywhere in time.

"Goddamn it! What are we doing wrong?!"

Ah, yes, on top of all this, the kitchen is filled with the shouts of those very same cooks.

"I don't get it", Rain continued to wail. "We're doing everything according to the recipe. This bun is much easier to make than the other dishes!" She gestured with her hand to the tray on which a few burnt pastries lay.

Julian, Ziana, and Wren sat at the walnut kitchen table and watched poor Rain try to figure out the reason for such a botched cooking job.

"Maybe the recipe itself was wrong?" Ziana cautiously voiced her suggestion. Cooking with her friends in the kitchen at Rain's house had seemed like a great idea to her earlier, but she hadn't realized that they would encounter such a problem as not being able to cook a bun properly after perhaps the sixth attempt.

"I don't think there was anything wrong with the recipe. It's just a normal bun, we've made dozens of them before", answered Wren. And indeed, on the table there was a whole vase with freshly baked cookies, puffs and buns and various jams and fruits, which were beckoning with their aroma and beauty.

"Well..." Julian began cautiously. "You don't put void mayonnaise in ordinary buns".

"That's true". Wren couldn't agree more. "Rain, my friend, why don't we just forget about the Strange Bun? Sit down with us, and we'll finally start the meal."

But Rain, arms crossed, waited for the timer on the oven to reach zero. "I'll check on that last bun, and then we'll be done".

All three of them looked sympathetically at the blue-haired girl. They understood that the failed baking had hit Rain's confidence hard, as she was a great cook, and had even agreed with her friends to organize a communal cookout, teaching them new recipes. And all was well... Until Shane left her the recipe for that obscure bake yesterday. And now Rain wants to make sure she hasn't lost her skills. Thankfully, the timer has already managed to emit a chime, alerting those present that it's time to pull out the baking tray.

"YEEEEES!!! We did it! We are the best!" Rain's excitement slightly startled all three of her friends, but they immediately breathed a sigh of relief as the girl held the hot baking tray victoriously in her hands, where a - oh, miracle - properly cooked Strange Bun was displayed.

Rain, satisfied, set the bun aside on a plate, letting it cool. The pastry itself looked true to its name: the dough was unnaturally orange, and the filling was an acid purple color.

"So", Rain summarized, "would anyone like to try this pastry?"

"Nope", Ziana, Julian and Wren answered their friend honestly.

"That's good! I don't want to either..." She looked a little suspiciously at that 'culinary misunderstanding'.

"Now let's drink tea!" Finally, Julian poured hot jasmine tea into each of their cups, and they all sat down at the table, eating the delicious fruits of their labor, listening to praise about each other for their good cooking.

#sdv #sdv oc #sdv ocs #farmer julian #farmer ziana #farmer rain #farmer wren

13 notes · View notes

whartonists · 1 year

Text

1870s Jenny Lind Cake

This recipe has everything. Opera! Science! Vanilla extract!

The specificity of this cake’s name is what first caught my eye--I knew who Jenny Lind was and I was curious as to why the cake bore her name. It also looked fairly straightforward to make, and I though that my rewatch of 1.04, with its memorable cameo by the Academy of Music (played by the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall, incidentally) would be a great time to make it. (I did actually make it last Tuesday in time for my rewatch, but then I got so into the research for this post that I’m not posting it until now. Whoops.)

The recipe comes from a recipe manuscript from Massachusetts, dated 1870, but likely containing recipes from both before and after that date as well, and is transcribed in ye old trusty Food in the American Gilded Age, edited by Helen Zoe Veit. It reads as follows:

Jenny Lind Cake

Beat together 1 egg and 1 cup sugar--stir in 1/4 cup butter--Add one cup milk 1 tea spoon soda 2 tea spoons cream tartar A little salt 2 cups flour Flavor to taste--1 loaf.

It’s written in a cross between the narrative style of older recipes and the more precise format that was becoming increasingly common at the end of the 19th century, and is of course notably lacking baking instructions of any kind. However, it does include the clue that it should be baked in a loaf tin, and more precise instructions would’ve been fairly useless both to her and to me today--she would have been baking in a coal- or wood-burning stove, which had no precise heat settings and relied upon the baker to have the experience to know how to bake different genres of baked goods, like cakes, in it.

Jenny Lind, whose name first drew me to this recipe, was a Swedish opera star of the 19th century, who notably was brought to the U.S. by P.T. Barnum to do an American tour from 1850 to 1852. She was a sensation in American popular culture, and apparently any number of things were named after her--a quick search through the Feeding America cookbook archive turns up Jenny Lind’s Pudding (1857); Jenny Lind’s Soup (1870), purporting to be an actual recipe Lind’s cook made for her to soothe her chest and throat; a Jenny Lind Bread (1878); Jenny Lind Pudding (1882, totally different from the 1857 recipe); and Jenny Lind Punch (1897). I also stumbled across this wonderful blog post, listing a number of recipes specifically for Jenny Lind Cake. The first is from 1853--clearly, cooks were naming things after her almost immediately. (Indeed, a different recipe appears in a published cookbook that same year.) The post then goes on to list eleven other Jenny Lind Cake recipes, from personal cookbooks, published cookbooks, and newspapers, all the way up through 1913. The staying power and cultural relevance of Jenny Lind’s name is fascinating to me: sixty years after she had left the country, Americans were still naming recipes for her.

I couldn’t find cream of tartar at my grocery store, so I used baking powder to substitute for the baking soda and cream of tartar. Baking soda seems to have been more available in US earlier than baking powder (though the label on my brand of baking powder proudly informs me that it has been around since 1859); earlier recipes tend to use soda rather than powder. The difference of course is that baking powder has an acid, to activate the baking soda it contains, already mixed in; because baking soda needs an outside acid to react with, you’ll see recipes call for buttermilk or sour milk (most common in recipes I’ve seen), cream of tartar (close second), or another acid.

I used four teaspoons of baking powder, becausebaking powder has quite a bit of stabilizing agent (like corn or potato starch) mixed in to keep its other elements from reacting prematurely. It rose well, for a cake (which should be, well, cakey), but I’d like to try it again using the proper ingredients, and see what texture differences there might be.

For the flavoring, I of course had to use tumblr’s new favorite flavoring agent, vanilla extract. I used a scant teaspoon. Vanilla actually has an interesting history that ties in here, however, as it’s around the later 19th century that it starts becoming the “default” flavor in baked goods, the way we think of it today. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, the default seems to have been rosewater, a flavor we almost never bake with anymore, but it served a similar purpose as vanilla does today, both a flavoring on its own as well as a complement to other flavors in baked goods. (This is purely something I’ve noticed from reading old cookbooks, so if anyone knows why this happened or has better sources around it, let me know.)

I ended up baking my cake loaf in a nice middling 350F oven, and it took almost exactly an hour to bake through. It got a lovely crust on top and has a very pleasant, almost birthday cake-like flavor from the vanilla. Highly recommend! It’s a lovely sort of snack cake, easy and tasty, and I will definitely be making it again the experiment further with leavenings (and flavorings--other Jenny Lind cake recipes call for spices to be added, so maybe I’ll experiment with that.)

#i think every one of these is getting longer #can't imagine what the 1.09 one will look like #experimental archaeology; or whatever #the gilded age

3 notes · View notes

kuroegerzie · 2 months

Text

CHAPTER THREE: The Dark Path

The hardest decisions we make are often the best decisions we make. It just takes a little while to feel their benefits. But, just like flower seeds in the soil, they show themselves at the right time.

"Here we are, Emberia." Toriel opened the door to her homely residence, welcoming me inside immediately. The first thing to hit me on the way in was the strong scent of cinnamon and cooked pastry, and honestly I couldn't help but hum ever so softly at the wonderful smell. Nothing sets the tone of a place like the aroma inside... "Home sweet home."

"Your house smells amazing, Toriel!" I couldn't help but blurt out to the goat monster behind me as she shut the door, beaming at her brightly. "Is that cinnamon I smell?"

"It is indeed, my child." Toriel confessed with a smile of her own as she placed her hand on my shoulder, the warmth from the gesture spreading through my body like flickering candlelight. "I had just finished baking a butterscotch-cinnamon pie when I came to find you, so I let it cool for some time. I believe it should be ready to eat now, so we may celebrate your arrival."

"Aww, you didn't have to do that-"

"No, I insist!" Toriel stated rather matter-of-factly, catching me slightly by surprise. What happened to her usual kind demeanour? "It is my absolute pleasure, Emberia."

Toriel quickly began ushering me through her hallway into what I can only assume to be her living room, decorated simply with a bookcase, dining table and cozy sofa chair resting next to the fireplace. Despite the emptiness of the beige walls, the room itself didn't feel unfinished in any way. A large golden-crusted pie rested in the middle of the dining table, its aroma dancing through the room and into my nose as I sat on one of the dining room chairs. Albeit a little hard to sit on for my liking, it seemed to be designed for stockier monsters like Toriel, so I couldn't complain too much for that one.

This sure is one cozy home.

My attention suddenly turned to the slice of pie placed in front of me, my mouth instantly beginning to water as I turned to look up at Toriel once again. "Thanks, Toriel."

"Of course, my child." Toriel smiled warmly at me once again as she sat down in the chair next to mine, her own slice of pie resting in front of her. "Now, I understand you have had a rather long day, so once you are finished I will lead you to your room."

I merely mustered a nod as the two of us dug into our hearty meals, the first bite alone sending me into a world of wonder. The contrast of flavours with the butterscotch and cinnamon in the filling danced all over my tongue with each new bite, and I couldn't help but wonder how intricate the recipe for this glorious pie was. There's no way a pie as good as this has a basic recipe, right?

It didn't take me long to finish the delicacy before me, and I rose from the table at roughly the same time as Toriel, who had also finished the entire slice of pie. I immediately began following her out of the living room without any words spoken between us as she led me into the hallway, stopping at the first door on the left. The door opened to a small bedroom, with the walls drenched in a coating of red and a large patchwork rug in the middle of the floor. The bed, while seemingly child-sized, looked comfy enough to rest on for the most part, and the toybox along with the plushes in the corner of the bed made it rather obvious that the room belonged to a younger kid. Despite this, I couldn't help but be grateful for the accommodation; after being attacked by some psychopathic flower and toasting a training dummy to ashes, I needed the rest.

"Here you are." Toriel's silky voice snapped me out of my trance as I turned to look up at her. "A room of your own. I hope it isn't too small for your needs; the humans who normally fall into the Underground are much smaller than you. I can adjust everything if you need me to."

"It's wonderful, Toriel." Beaming up at the motherly monster, I gently patted her arm in an act of reassurance. I would have patted her shoulder, but given the noticeable difference in height between the two of us it would've been pretty awkward. "Thank you."

"Oh, but of course, Emberia. Now, this may sound like an odd request, but I must ask you to turn your back to me for a second."

Now that's a bit of a weird ask. What's Toriel intending to do now?

After some hesitation I slowly carried out Toriel's orders, turning my back to her as she had asked. A hiss immediately erupted from me as my wings began to throb in pain, Toriel's hands having just touched them. She murmured a soft-spoken apology before the throbbing slowly ebbed away, replaced by the rush of a tingling warmth flooding from her hands. While the snapping sensation of my bones shifting back into place disturbed me to no end, it sent a wave of relief through me knowing that I at least had a little more freedom. Man, I had missed being able to use them! "I do apologise for not doing this earlier. I thought it might be safer to do it here, in the comfort of home, rather than out in the Ruins."

I immediately gave my thanks to Toriel, momentarily fluttering my wings to check for any sore spots only to be met with nothing but the soft breeze which my wings had kicked up. What a relief. "Surely there's something I can do for you, Toriel. You've been so kind to me, after all, and I don't have any way to repay you-"

"Oh nonsense, my child." Toriel softly laughed as her hands moved to my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to repay me for anything, alright? Now get some rest; you look absolutely exhausted. I shall see you in the morning."

"Okay. Goodnight, Toriel."

The door shut behind me with a gentle click as my feet carried me to the bed without any further hesitation. As I sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off my boots, letting myself sink into the comfort of the mattress, my mind wandered to the events which had occurred earlier. For someone who initially appears to be as menacing as a barn mouse, Flowey sure put up a decent amount of fight. Sure, his facade could've used a bit more work, but the chills he sent through me when he gave it up rivalled none.

There's gotta be more to that flower than he's letting on.

My eyelids eventually begin to droop the longer I focus on the events passed, and the drastic pull of sleep finally convinced me that, yes, the day was over. I collapsed onto my stomach with a sigh of relief, burying my face into the pillow and feeling the cold fabric spread over my cheeks. As the lines between wakefulness and sleep blurred into one, I slowly relaxed and entered the embrace of gentle slumber.

The next couple of days seemed to go past in a blur. In the time that had passed between falling asleep and now, Toriel had gifted me a new cellphone to contact her with whenever I wanted to explore the Ruins. Flowey hadn't made any new appearances, and even if he tried to come face to face with me again I was more prepared to face him. I had explored every nook and cranny of the remaining Ruins, or at least what I had thought was the remaining Ruins until today.

The front door to Toriel's home flew open with gusto as I bounded inside, barely unable to contain my new excitement. The now-familiar aroma of cinnamon and butterscotch wafted through the halls as I darted into the living room where Toriel had entered from the kitchen, having just placed a brand new pie onto the dining table. Though she seemed surprised by my abundance of energy, she greeted me with her signature warm smile. "Ah, welcome home, dear Emberia! You're just in time for some pie. I remembered how much you liked the first batch, so I thought you'd like another."

"Oh, thanks Toriel!" I reciprocated her smile, hardly able to keep still by this stage. I had kept my excitement in for so long at this point, and I was beginning to feel like I was going to explode. Toriel definitely noticed my antsy nature by now, an amused expression on her face.

"So how did you find the Ruins today? I understand it must be more entertaining now that you can fly again."

"Oh yeah, it's so good to be flying around again! And you won't believe the journey I went on today!" The words spewed out of my mouth as I recounted the tales of my journey through the Ruins, namely the thrill of the wind pushing against me as I soared through the familiar corridors. I even mentioned this one encounter I had with a little Whimsun, which had burst into tears and run away before I could even talk to it.

Toriel's interest in my eventful day seemed to grow as I continued on with my story, her gaze occasionally flitting to the pie on the table as she began to slice through the pastry dish to serve it. "It sounds like you had a rather eventful day today, Emberia."

"That's not even the best part! I was on my way back here when I found this little staircase you hadn't shown me before, and I went down it and there's a whole other region!" There was a slight clang as the knife Toriel used to cut the pie slipped out of her hand and onto the table, though I continued to recount my story for her. "With different monsters and everything! There weren't many that I saw, and the whole place looked like it was going to crumble, but it looks so similar to the Ruins! There was also this real thick corn maze in one of the rooms, and there was a house at the end of it all! I... I even..."

My voice begins to falter as my attention diverts to the goat monster standing across from me, now having realised that the drop of the knife in her hand hadn't been an accident and was in fact a reaction. Toriel's gaze, one that usually holds such a gentle warmth, now bore into my own with a stern intensity. Her posture held tense as her hands rested on the table as if to steady herself, though her demeanour held a more steely resolve. "You must be more careful, Emberia. Someone could have seen you."

I couldn't help but furrow my brow in confusion at Toriel's words. No monsters had attacked me during any of my journeys, and if any had done so she would've been the first to know. Not to mention she knows I can defend myself. Why is she suddenly so concerned about someone seeing me? It didn't make any sense. Was there something I had missed? Had I unknowingly put myself in danger?

No. There's gotta be something else.

"But other monsters have seen me before, Toriel. Didn't you hear me talking about the Whimsun I met earlier? They've never attacked me before. And besides, you know I can defend myself! You've, uh, you've seen what I did to your dummy, after all." The unnerving silence on Toriel's end set off a bubbling pit in the depths of my stomach as I momentarily gritted my teeth, trying to pick my next words carefully. "Look, Toriel, I... I'm not a child. I'm almost old enough to class as an adult. I'm not an idiot. I... I know there are other regions out there. Maybe there's other monsters I can meet and befriend! Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but... It's such a small place when you've seen it all, y'know?"

The tense silence returned once again, more thick and suffocating than the last bout. I couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt as Toriel looked away for a brief moment, her expression honestly unreadable. Had I said something wrong? Had I pushed it too far? The uncertainty gnawed at my conscience as the tension between the two of us increased, becoming more and more agonising. Every second that passed seemed to stretch longer and longer as Toriel appeared lost in thought, the evergrowing silence weighing heavily on my shoulders. Surely she'd say something, anything, to break the silence eventually, right?

"Come with me." The sudden break of the silence sent a mere sliver of relief through me, though Toriel's expression did not provide any comfort to me like it did mere minutes ago. There was no kindness, warmth or compassion in her at this moment; in its place remained only solemnity and stoicism. "There is something I need to show you."

Without another word spoken Toriel began to walk into the hallway, and I myself followed silently. The staircase leading downstairs finally had a use as Toriel led me down it, revealing a long, winding purple hallway to us. Despite the invitation to follow her, I couldn't help but notice how sombre her demeanour was. She refused to look down at me as we walked; an action I had grown to appreciate of her, and an action I now sorely missed. What was it that she needed to show me? Why did she seem so cold about it?

It wasn't long before we reached the end of the hall, where we were both greeted by a towering purple door looming over us. Time had certainly left its mark on the door, its weathered purple wood adorned with the same intricate markings as the rest of the Ruins' doors, but still the door exuded a sense of mystery. It still left me feeling a sense of confusion; where did this door even lead? "Where are we, Toriel?"

"This, my child, is the end of the Ruins." Toriel's voice, devoid of any emotion by this point, echoed off the walls as she moved to stand in front of me, turning and facing me once she had placed herself between the door and I. "It was a one-way exit to the rest of the Underground until very recently."

"So this leads to the other regions I heard about?"

"Yes." Toriel's confirmation was all it took for my previous excitement to return, surging through me like a bolt of lightning. I knew there were more regions to explore than just the Ruins and the new one I had discovered today, yet the promise of more uncharted lands filled me with anticipation and wonder nonetheless. My enthusiasm quickly dwindled down as I realised Toriel had not budged from her spot, her expression now cold and stern. "However, I cannot let you leave. Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. They come, they leave, they die. I have seen it again and again. You may not be fully human, but monsters may still deem you a threat and attack you. Are you truly sure you want to leave?"

Her words hung uncomfortably in the air, my previous excitement once again replaced by a sense of unease as I grappled with the weight of Toriel's warning. The beauty of the unknown clashing with the sobering reality of the risk left me torn between the desire for adventure and the safety of my new home. While I would be forever grateful for the kindness and accomodation Toriel provided me, deep down I knew I would eventually grow to dread the small confine of the Ruins. Though my decision weighed heavy, the call of adventure was just too strong to ignore.

Surely she'd understand, right?

So I nodded. "I've already seen everything I could possibly see here in the Ruins, Toriel. Surely I'm allowed the chance to explore." I explained with a small voice, my words tinged with sadness and longing. "I'll come and visit, I promise!"

The steely gaze I received in response from Toriel stung hard, boring into me with the coldness of a glacier. Though she seemed to try and hide it from me it was far too hard to ignore the subtle tinge of hurt in her eyes, carrying a weight of disappointment and mild regret. Now I had really, truly messed up."You want to leave so badly? Hmph. You are just like the humans. Just like young Frisk."

Frisk? Where had I heard that name before? It didn't sound familiar to me at all, yet the name alone sent a chill through my spine that suggested otherwise. Whatever sense of déjà vu I was feeling didn't sit right with me at all; I couldn't put a face to the name even if I tried.

"There is only one solution to this."

Toriel's words quickly snapped me out of my thoughts as I looked back at her, though her head had now lowered and her eyes closed, facing towards the stone floor beneath us. The moment of silence between us was suddenly interrupted when a white fireball, not unlike the one that had saved me from my encounter with Flowey mere days ago, sparked to life in one of Toriel's paws. That flame, one that had given me relief in the early days, now struck a sense of fear into my heart, and my eyes widened as I suddenly realised; she wanted me to fight her.

But... That can't be right! Why would she try to teach me how to give mercy if she was going to pull a stunt like this all this time? There has to be another way to convince her! "T-Toriel?"

"Prove yourself." Toriel's resolve remained unyielding, her tone firm and resolute as her words hung uncomfortably in the air. The atmosphere felt so tense it was beginning to become suffocating. "Prove to me that you are strong enough to survive. You must fight me, or run away."

"What?! No!" I instantly protested, unable to ignore the tightening pain in my throat as I momentarily choked up. I could feel the intense heat flaring through my body begging to be released, asking for just one moment to let loose on everything, but I wasn't going to let any of that happen again. I had to restrain myself this time. "I'm not going to fight you just to prove a point! That's not right!"

Unfortunately for me, all my frustrated response achieved was fueling Toriel's own as her gaze met mine once again, and I couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped me as a blinding wall of white erupted from behind her, though nothing burned with more intensity than the stare she gave me. That stare held nothing but anger and determination; a stare that told me that I might not live to tell this tale.

No. This has to be a test. She's just being threatening. There's no way she's actually going to attack, right?

"Then leave."

A wave of panic and adrenaline surged through my veins as the blazing fireball in Toriel's hand suddenly hurled itself at my head, with the barrage of flames behind her flew in from all sorts of directions. Out of pure instinct my wings quickly wrapped around my body, doing their best to shield me from the onslaught as long, white tongues of fire licked at my skin.

Well, she certainly attacked. And unfortunately for me, my heritage doesn't make me entirely immune to other people's fire.

Well, shit.

#fanfiction #tripolar #tripolartale #undertale #undertale au #undertale yellow

0 notes

humblevege · 1 year

Text

Spicy Wheat Gluten Seitan Sandwich

Juicy Seitan Sandwich: Get Your Serviette

The thought of an easy seitan recipe just tantalizes my taste buds already. Seitan is a major character in my plant-based eating lifestyle. It worked wonders for me in this Ivorian Attieke with seitan recipe as well as heavy liberian palava sauce. Do you know how to use vital wheat gluten? Upon trying it yourself, spicy wheat gluten seitan sandwich can easily find its way into your cherished recipes. In fact, this plant-based meat alternative method rivals most “seitan chicken” recipes out there. I understand, you are probably wondering, is this another healthy spicy recipes? The answer is in this article, read on and discover. Here, plant based meat alternatives recipes abound!

Seitan Breaded Sandwich is satisfying

Video Tutorial

Seitan goes by many other names, including “wheat gluten”, “wheat meat” or “wheat protein”. Naturally, seitan has almost the same look and feel of meat when cooked. In fact, seitan is the only meat alternative that is free of soy. However, vital wheat gluten recipes are high in protein and take on other flavors quite well, and they are another healthy spicy recipes. In this regard, you can utilize any easy seitan recipe however you like: whether baked, steamed, sauteed or simmered.

Vital Wheat Gluten Recipes

Leading a plant-based eating lifestyle comes with its advantages, including a variety of vital wheat gluten recipes. I’m hoping you already understand what vital wheat gluten is and how to use vital wheat gluten; if not don’t worry one bit. I’m here to grow your knowledge on everything plant-based recipes. Vital wheat gluten basically refers to the natural protein in wheat. Indeed, it is the thing that affords seitan that meaty texture we enjoy so much. Naturally, gluten is the only remnant after stripping wheat after harvesting. In this regard, vital wheat gluten recipes are great sources for protein, calcium, iron, and are low in carbs; they make good healthy spicy recipes.

Log of Wheat Protein Homemade First things first, spicy wheat gluten seitan sandwich recipes are for those gluten tolerant. There are many ways to go about your chicken alternatives the plant-based way. You can use tofu, cauliflower, tempeh, or other plant based meat alternatives. By knowing how to use vital wheat gluten, you can enjoy an alternative to chicken as much as possible. However, it is not my belief that it is possible to achieve meaty texture and flavor with any vital wheat gluten.

Is Homemade Seitan Healthy

I wonder this too and the best way to find out is jumping in or taking my experience as insight. First off, I am not too wild about fried foods but I sure love them. Even when I used to eat meat, I detest frying chicken because the oil splatter everywhere. Furthermore, the frying part of the plant protein, just demands a large amount of oil to my dislike. Now, as you may know, Seitan is made of wheat gluten so it is a plant-based protein, one of many plant based meat alternatives. Is homemade seitan healthy fried, you must be wondering? Honestly, it will depend on the person.

Personally, I know how to use vital wheat gluten even if fried, it is healthy for a few reasons. Firstly, after I ate the seitan sandwich, I noticed my body felt light; which could be due to the fact that I used whole-wheat flour for the coating. This is unlike how the normal chicken sandwich would make me feel; In the past when I ate meat, it tasted good going in but my stomach felt like rock after I’d eaten a chicken sandwich. Secondly, I fried it in avocado oil. These are crucial ingredients most consumers cannot control when we eat at fast food places. Also, the fresh store-bought brioche bun added sufficient carbohydrate to make me full and lively. This easy seitan recipe will show you all the seasonings that help the plant-protein taste delicious. This seasoned home-made seitan is something you will absolutely love; if not for the frying aspect, I’d make this a lot. It was really fun to make this plant-based spicy protein sandwich. Follow these easy steps to fry and make yourself a yummy meat-alternative sandwich that is mouth watering.

Is Seitan Sandwich Nutritious or Nah?

Because I used to eat animal meat and peppery dairy cheese, I experimented with plant-based cheese. Dear world, plant-based processed food is not all it’s made out to be. I ate a seitan sandwich without the plant-based cheese and proceeded to eat another with the plant-based cheese. Immediately, I noticed the salt-content in the sandwich was off; it became too salty! I thought I could ignore the taste and finish it, not wanting to waste the plant-based cheese. My stomach started grumbling the more I ate the plant-based cheese sandwich. I took out the plant-based cheese and ate the rest of the sandwich. I ended up throwing the entire plant-based cheese pack away; paying $7.99 for plant-cheese isn’t worth upsetting my digestive system. For now, I am of the opinion that plant-based cheese is unhealthy.

What NOT to do-Pesto Seitan Pita Combo Similarly, I have reservations for store-bought alternatives because of their unhealthy food additives. Other store-bought plant based meat alternatives can be inferior in quality compared to easy seitan recipes made at home. Here's my opinion on naming plant protein animal names mixed in. Related: Beware of Processed Vegan Cheese

Plant based Meat Alternatives

The increasing appeal of plant based meat alternatives cannot go unnoticed. Indeed, who can blame them when an easy seitan recipe gives a chewy, meaty and perfectly flavored meal. In addition, the growing popularity of these recipes for vital wheat continues to flame the debate: is homemade seitan healthy?

Wheat Protein In my opinion, only chicken tastes like chicken and I will not mislead you to think that a plant-protein can provide the same taste in plant based meat alternatives. No matter the amount of seasonings or liquid smoke that you might use or how you texturize the wheat-gluten, it will never taste like chicken. I believe it is mentally unhealthy to expect plant based meat alternatives to taste like animal protein recipes. Understandably, we use words to describe things in to attribute similarity. However, "Seitan chicken" recipes are a myth that will have you doubting yourself and feeling like a fraud. IF you want to eat chicken, eat it and enjoy it. These spicy recipes for vital wheat gluten had me shocked by the flavor and best of all, it filled my stomach and gave me energy.

Would you try Seitan Sandwich?

Making easy seitan recipes can be fun and truly fulfilling. Homemade plant based meat alternatives are healthy based on the ingredients used. The best way to enjoy recipes and know how to use vital wheat gluten, is to try it and let the experience inform your verdict on the all controversial question: is homemade seitan healthy? Thoughts, input? What healthy spicy recipes do you want to see? Comment below. Curious about a no-animal-meat food lifestyle? Peep instagram to see what I eat live😊. Read the full article

#HighProtein #Lifestyle #Spicy #Vegetarian

0 notes

alphonseelriic · 1 year

Note

Happy almost Christmas Sofia!! Gosh the days go by so fast! I can't believe it's almost here. Probably my last anon msg before reveals 😉 but feel free to continue talking to me after if you want to, it's been lovely to be your Santa!

Oh! I hope your time at the beach has been eveything you wanted? ☺️

Still wanting all of the food you talk highly of haha ❤. Would be really cool to visit south america one day and try some of these authentically! Will keep my eyes out to see if there's any around tho heh.

And wow your mum is a professional baker! You must be used to the best goods then!! 😵 She must be so flattered you love her pannetone best too. And that's fair about not being into the kitchen lol but good to know you're capable there. ^^ I like cooking/baking but I'm not a fan of the cleaning that comes with it 😆 and these days I'm so tired, it sometimes feels like a lot of work to make a meal beyond basics lol. But when I'm in the mood I really like experiment with new recipes and decorating baked goods is always fun! Do you have a "go-to" meal you cook?

Oh please do try duck! Theres so many ways to eat it...all delicious ha. Though it has a gamey taste that some people don't like, so I wonder if you prefer those or not too? 👀 Do you like lamb/goat flavors? (Since that has an even more gamey taste haha). Ooo tteokbokki is so good, a food fair sounds fun! Alsjdkkdd honestly I'm so drawn to hot cocoa during the winter haha so totally valid and cappuccino too!! Yum!! Fresh fruit juices, so refreshing 😍. I love mango smoothies.

Oh no, what did you get to read instead in high school? We had a list of authors and books we could pick from to read during Lit class in high school that was a lot of classics including Jane Austen! It's been so long though, I honestly don't remember much. Do you like any of the jane austen movies too?

Omg I know the struggle to find the fics that fit what you want to see from your favs lol, it's esp. hard in smaller fandoms or not as popular ships. What kind of ships are you into? 👀 And what kind of fics draw you in most?

The struggle not to rewatch haikyuu all the time, yes!! 😆 Because it gives so much serotonin lol, but I know if it wait longer and don't remember everything, it'll be better haha. Speaking of MOB, ugh I haven't seen the last episode yet but I'm already sad it's over 😭 but deep in the feels. I'm particularly in love with "exist" ost this time. 🥲

Totally get what your saying and thanks for that bits of information! All the examples you linked are so pleasing to look at 😊 and Mazusu is easily one of my fav editors too. ❤ I can't wait to also see what you'll edit for this event! And hope you'll enjoy my lil gift to you! 🤧 Also thank you for your work with animanga creators, agree their challenges are a lot of fun 😄.

Be back very soon and happiest of holidays to you! ❤💚

- Animanga 🎅

Omg happy Christmas Eve, secret santa ❤️ yessss!! I'm so excited to find out who you are >:) Awww thank you sm! I'm very glad to have had such a wonderful santa this year :')

Yeah, my time at the beach was v nice! We arrived back home yesterday afternoon. We didn't do much but that's actually what I wanted hahahah I was just so tired.

That's so sweet, I would love it if you visit 🥹 this continent may not be most people's first option for a vacation but it's truly beautiful and has such touristic potential!!

Ohh yes my mom bakes a lot of stuff! It's mostly for orders and we are forbidden from eating anything tho, but she does also bake for us occasionally ^^ I would be lying if I said she wasn't partially responsible for my sweet tooth...

Oh the cleaning, what a struggle LMAO it does indeed suck when you prepare a rather small thing but it leaves a lot of dirty dishes behind 😔 experimenting is really fun indeed!! I guess a meal I tend to "cook" often are different kinds of salads made with whatever is on the fridge, as they're so easy to make! I also like frying eggs and eating them with leftover rice if there's any. Grilled cheese sandwiches are also a classic. Maybe this is cheating bc nothing is actually made out of scratch, but oh well :p

I tend to like stuff with strong flavors so I think I may like duck! I don't remember the last time I ate lamb but I do remember liking it. The food fair was really fun indeed 💕 had a great time even if the weather was terrible that day. Oh I forgot about smoothies, I really like them too! Same with milkshakes.

I honestly don't remember much about what I had to read in high school 🤔 I remember reading Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Catcher in the Rye. Also a few books and short tales from Latin American authors. Unfortunately we couldn't choose for ourselves, the teacher decided for us :( but I liked most of what I read thankfully!

Yeah I loooove the pride and prejudice movie from 2005! I also want to watch the 1995 miniseries but I haven't had the time yet. I want to watch the Sense and sensibility movie too after I finish the book to see how faithful it is heheh

Tbh when it comes to ships I tend to like the popular (or canon) choices, like EdWin, TwiYor, RinShi, HanaNene, SasaMiya etc. But for media that has a big cast and doesn't focus on romance (like Haikyuu or Genshin) I tend to multiship and I like less common ships too!! I admit I'm not very creative for finding new ships so usually I end up drawn in by that one artists that is obsessed with a rarepair but has a really cute art style 😅 I'm trying to think about some examples but my mind is blank rn 🤔 maybe this is my sign to go back and consume more hq fanart like I did back in the day lol

Ohh I still haven't watched the last episode either, but idk, it's hard to say goodbye to this series 😭 my excuse is that I usually wait to watch it with my partner but we haven't had the opportunity to watch it together yet. I can't delay it for much longer tho or the entire episode will be spoiled for me sooner or later hahaha

Oww I'm glad my examples were useful for you!! Yeah masuzu's stuff is simply wonderful :') I'll upload my gift as soon as I finish answering this ask so you'll get to see it very soon 😈 I'm 100% sure I'll love what you made for me!! I can't wait to see it 🙈 aww thanks!! I still feel I don't do much despite being a mod but I want to have a more active rol from now on, my friend Roh had such a good idea when she thought about making this network, it's been an awesome experience so far and it reignited my love for this community ❤️❤️❤️ this event was super super fun!!

The happiest holidays to you too 💕 I hope you have a magical time alongside whoever you celebrate with!! Have fun tonight and eat a lot of delicious food ❣️ thank you so much again for being such a great santa! couldn't have asked for more ;)

#asks #secretsanta2022

0 notes

szallejhscorner · 2 years

Note

Hi! How are you?

It’s currently 2:38am and I can’t sleep, so I was casually watching a video of a cake recipe and I instantly had an idea. So, imagine Chishiya seeing the reader making a cake, for example, Strawberry Crepe Cake (it was actually the cake of the recipe that I was watching), and realizing how much effort she puts into it, knowing that she made it just for him. It’s totally ok, if you don’t feel like writing I just thought it was a cute idea.

Love you, and stay safe! Oh and rest a lot!

Do I do anything besides resting lately? Haha xD

I’ve waited quite some time to finish this request, because I have actually tried out that recipe! It turned out surprisingly good despite being my first attempt, and if you have fun with baking, maybe you’ll want to try it out as well (:

In case you do, Kat even provided us with the recipe here.

Have fun reading!

The Strawberry Crepe Cake

The first thing Chishiya notices upon entering the apartment is the smell. The unmistakable note of vanilla flavor and flour, causing a feint dust to linger in the air of the kitchen.

Which looks like an absolute mess, although that’s not at all unusual when you decide to bake something. The whole countertop is covered in flour and ingredients as well as bowls are scattered everywhere, while you’re baking something in a pan and humming a feint melody. It almost looks like a pancake, just that it’s… pink?

“What are you doing there?” he asks upon getting closer to you, peeping over your shoulder to get a better look. Now he can definitely tell that it’s pancakes, and two of them are already cooling down on a plate next to the stove. Only that they’re not round but square, which is pretty unusual for pancakes. And he doesn’t recall owning a square pan anyway.

You lift your head with a smile and greet him with a quick kiss before you turn around the pancake. “Trying out an old family recipe of ours. I’ve done it plenty of times already, but never since we’ve moved together, so that needed to be changed.”

Chishiya hums, already delighted with the prospect of something sweet for dinner. You’re undeniably talented when it comes to cooking, and together with the fact that Chishiya is a sweet tooth, that’s a brilliant combination.

He scans over the countertop, where next to the bowl with the pink batter is some kind of cream, and then there’s a bowl filled with huge red strawberries. Obviously the dessert will contain them, and it’s getting better with every second. Moving to the side as inconspicuously as possible, Chishiya tries to get closer to the red sweets and has already stretched out his hand when the pancake turner hits him almost hard enough to be painful.

“Ah, ah, ah! I need them. All of them. No snacking allowed in my kitchen!”

“Your kitchen?” he replies with a smirk, retreating from the strawberries for now but not yet giving up on getting one. “Last time I checked, this was our shared property.”

You snort and put the finished pancake to the table before adding new batter to the pan. “Right now, this is my kitchen. My recipe, my kitchen. And my rules.”

While the pancake slowly bakes, Chishiya watches the rest of the kitchen. Not only does it look like a mess, but also like lots of work. Everything seems to be prepared already, although he has no idea so far what the end result will look like. There’s the pancakes, the strawberries, the cream, and a square cake mould without a bottom.

“What is this family recipe of yours, then?” he asks with a nod to all those utensils, and he wonders how long you’ve been preparing all this already. It looks like an hour of work minimum, and you don’t seem to be that far yet.

“Strawberry Crepe Cake.” As you finish another pancake and refill the pan, you brightly smile at Chishiya. “It’s fabulous, believe me! And I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll love it.”

That sounds interesting indeed. You have created so many things already, from cakes to pastries to sweets and back, but this has never been one of them. It makes Chishiya wonder why, because everything about it sounds good. He likes strawberries, he likes crepes, and he likes cakes. What could possibly go wrong? “We’ll see about that once it’s finished”, he smirks teasingly, barely avoiding another hit of the pancake turner.

There’s now five of the crepes, every single one looking perfect and resting on a huge plate to cool down. The sixth and last one is currently baking in the pan, and as Chishiya compares the size of the crepes to the baking mould, he’s sure that you won’t need all of them. Thus you shouldn’t mind a taste check, right?

While you’re occupied with turning the crepe, Chishiya reaches for one of the pink slices. But you move into the way faster than expected, blocking him from the plate. “Honey”, you sigh, “give up. I need everything here for the cake, thus no snacking this time. Isn’t there something else you want to do while I prepare this?”

No, he will get something to snack from this. He just has to find a good way to do so, and he shakes his head with a hum. “What – don’t tell me my presence is making you nervous? Are you afraid I’ll catch you making a mistake?”

You snort with a look in your eyes that is more than convinced you won’t ever make any mistakes with that recipe. After taking the last crepe out of the pan, you quickly turn around to breathe a kiss onto Chishiya’s lips. “Watch. But your hands stay off the counter, understood?”

He doesn’t answer, and you turn your attention back to baking. Chishiya watches with fascination how you coat the inside of the baking mould with plastic to make it higher, every move of your hands accurate and flawless. You test if the crepes have cooled down enough and give a satisfied nod when that seems to be the case, and quickly the first pink slice is placed at the bottom of the mould, becoming the base of the cake.

Only now does he recognize the decoration tube resting next to you, and you fill in the cream without spilling the tiniest bit. It seems like a handicraft for itself, and Chishiya knows everything you do here looks much easier than it actually is. Well, it is definitely easy for you, but you have done this dozens of times already.

With help of the decoration tube, you place a thin layer of cream onto the crepe before you cover it with another crepe. Chishiya could list many things he’d still have to do, but watching your calm hands is way too fascinating to do anything else. And the best of all: while you’re focused on placing the second crepe right, the strawberries are left completely unattended.

Chishiya moves swift and soundless, and the moment you realize what he has done, a huge red strawberry has already half disappeared in his mouth. It tastes fresh and incredibly sweet, indicating that those fruits have mostly been picked from your own garden and not from the market.

“Chis- aww, come on! What did I say about no snacking?” You try to pick the remaining half of the strawberry out of Chishiya’s hands, but he quickly swallows it down, his smirk almost as wide as his entire face.

“That was no snacking. It was a quality check”, he grins, stepping back so the pancake turner won’t reach him.

You roll your eyes and make sure to place the strawberries as close to the baking mould as possible to avoid any further incidents, but Chishiya doesn’t plan to snack away all your ingredients anyway. He just wanted one of those incredibly delicious looking strawberries, and he has been rewarded. Now he’s confident with watching and waiting for the cake to be finished – except for some potential leftovers, of course.

As you mutter something incomprehensible, you can’t hide the grin on your own face. You know Chishiya after all, and he knows that you’re not mad at him. Throwing a last glance towards him that tells him to stay away from now on, you cover the second crepe with cream, this time a thicker layer. Into this layer you place the first batch of strawberries, as close to each other as possible, and then fill out the remaining space with cream.

The whole procedure repeats: another crepe, a thin layer of cream, second crepe. Then cream, strawberries, cream. The top layer is made of the last two pink crepes and the cream remains are carefully spread over it all to give it a smooth appearance. The sweet scent of both the strawberries and the crepes lingers so heavy in the air now that Chishiya can hear the rumbling of his own stomach, waiting for the cake to be served in pleased anticipation.

“Three hours”, you explain while carefully placing the cake in the fridge, “then it’s ready to eat. Think you can survive that long?”

Chishiya shrugs, his eyes still glued to the now closed door of the fridge. “You barely leave me another chance, don’t you? Besides…”

His eyes have made out the bowl with a handful of strawberries still in it, and your laughter is almost as sweet as the fruits while you reach him the bowl. Only the smaller ones have been left, but the taste remains the same, and Chishiya picks up one after one while he watches how you begin to clean up the mess.

Almost one hour has he watched you now, plus the preparation time you spent before he arrived. That’s a long time for a simple dessert that will be eaten within a couple of minutes, and even though Chishiya would never admit that to you, it means a lot to him that you spend so much of your time to make something just for him. Plus the time that is needed to clean up the mess afterwards.

“You could lend me a hand, you know”, you mutter as you put the smaller bowls and jugs into the dishwasher and prepare hot water for the bigger utensils.

Chishiya, generous as he is, picks the towel from the counter and reaches it out for you to take. You do, but you have already seen through the smirk on his face.

“It was your idea, so you can take care of cleaning the kitchen. I’ll help you later when it comes to the actual taste test.”

“Yes. You’ll be a big help then”, you shoot back with another roll of your eyes. Chishiya doesn’t hear the rest of your complaints since he heads to his working desk to finally take care of all the things he still has to do today, although the next three hours don’t pass nearly as quickly as that one hour he has watched you create that cake. His eyes glance to the clock all the time, expecting the watch hands to have moved a huge distance when only a couple of minutes have passed. And his ears are always on alert, listening for any signs that you’re taking the cake out of the fridge, but all you do is open a bottle of juice or emptying the dishwasher once it’s finished.

Somehow, three hours go by, and Chishiya has even managed to be productive during that time. But when you call his name from the kitchen, he instantly drops everything back to the table and almost jumps back to his feet. Not that he’d ever show that much anticipation to you – once he enters the kitchen, he’s completely calm and composed. “What, is it time already? Don’t tell me you spent all of it cleaning up.”

Since there’s no pancake turner nearby, you aim the towel at him, which he catches easily. In the same moment you place the cake on the counter, the scent of strawberries and sugar returns, and so does he growl in Chishiya’s stomach.

You place your hands on the cake mould, ready to move it off, and Chishiya watches over your shoulder. “Careful; you’ll ruin it otherwise.”

“What”, you grin back to him, “you wanna do it instead?”

“Nothing’s calmer than the hands of a surgeon”, he replies and switches places with you. He doesn’t have any doubts that you would have done it perfectly, this is just the daily amount of tease and you both know it. He reaches for the cold mould anyway and carefully moves it upwards until it slips off the cake. So far, the plastic holds everything in place, and he removes it slice after slice, side after side. The construct holds since the cream has turned more solid due to the cold temperature, and when you eventually give him a large knife, Chishiya cuts off two equal pieces of the cake.

The edge cuts smoothly through both the crepes and the strawberries, and the whole thing looks almost too good to be eaten. Almost.

You help him place both pieces on plates and decorate it with powdered sugar, and with your free hand, you navigate him to the sofa. “I’ve made this only for you, and I hope you enjoy it”, you say with a bright smile and so much love in your eyes. Chishiya still doesn’t understand how you can love him in such a deep way, despite the person he is, but the love is there, every new day.

To appreciate what you did, he tastes a bit from the cake, and unsurprisingly, you didn’t disappoint. The crepes make an interesting contrast to the soft cream, which isn’t that sweet at all compared to the flavorful strawberries. It’s perfect. Probably even the best dessert you have created so far. Chishiya hums and a second spoon follows immediately, while you watch him and wait for a reaction.

He gives it with an approving nod. “It’s good, yes. Just one little thing…” With the spoon, he lifts up the lowest slice of pink crepe to show it to you, “those taste great, but… let’s be honest. They do look like ham.”

#chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #aib chishiya #chishiya x reader #oneshot #alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no alice

145 notes · View notes

snelbz · 3 years

Text

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 8}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 2752

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Athena

– Goddess of wisdom, reason, intelligent activity, literature, handicrafts and science, defense and strategic warfare

Rowan felt ridiculous.

He had spent the last hour cleaning his apartment and was currently pulling all of the food out that was meant to be prepared for dinner.

Steak, carrots, green beans, potatoes, a wide range of spices.

Thanks to the internet, Rowan knew what to do with them all.

It’s not like it was that big of a deal - Lorcan and Elide were joining him and Aelin for dinner.

And although he had hosted Lorcan and Elide a million times for dinner, Rowan had never cooked, nor had he introduced them to someone he was crazy about.

And he was crazy about Aelin.

She didn’t have classes on Fridays, something he wished he had been smart enough to plan when he was in college, so she’d done his grocery shopping while he was teaching all day. When he got home, he was expecting her to still be there. But his apartment was empty.

I have to get ready, she’d explained when he called her. I wasn’t expecting Lorcan the other night, but I have to impress Elide.

“You could have gotten ready here. You shower here all the time.”

We have sex in the shower, I don’t use it for functional purposes. Not yet anyway.

So here he was, laptop open to a recipe for pan-seared steak, making sure he had everything he needed.

Aelin had promised she’d be here before Lorcan and Elide, and he had been hoping to impress her with his skills in the kitchen, too, even if they were rough.

Now he was hoping not to set the smoke alarms off as he turned the stove on and put way more butter than he was used to using in the cast iron pan.

As it began to melt, he was already considering his meal a success.

Just as he was dropping the steaks into the pan, the front door opened and Aelin was letting herself in.

“Follow the sound of the sizzling,” he called, and Aelin came into view a second later.

She whistled, brows raised. “I like a man in the kitchen.”

Rowan laughed as he met her halfway, giving her a kiss. “Hopefully you still like it after you eat what I make.” Another kiss. “You look beautiful.”

She scoffed. “I’m wearing leggings and a top.”

“And you look beautiful in them,” he replied, turning back to the stove. “Just like you do in everything.”

“You’re a shameless flirt,” she said, beginning to chop the vegetables. But he saw the blush creep across her cheeks and ears.

Although they were cooking a homemade meal, he’d made sure she knew this wasn’t going to be anything fancy.

Elide would never let me live it down.

Rowan had always got along well with Elide, although he had absolutely no idea how she ended up with Lorcan. Rowan loved his oldest and closest friend, but he was a natural asshole.

Elide was the opposite.

“I have to confess,” Aelin began, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous.”

Rowan’s brows rose. “Why?”

“Well, these are the people we’re going to be spending a lot of time with, I assume, since they’re two out of four people that know about us.” She gestures between the two of them. Their unorthodox relationship. “If she’s as sweet as you say she is, I’m worried my sarcastic ass will offend the woman.”

Rowan couldn’t help the laughter that shook his body. “Do I need to remind you that she’s been with Lorcan for the last five years?”

Aelin whistled. “Five years and still no ring? That gives me good material to ruffle Lorcan with.”

He froze and glanced over a shoulder at her. “Maybe don’t bring that up.”

Aelin was instantly grateful she had mentioned it now, and not in front of Lorcan directly. “Why?”

“Lorcan is…” Rowan trailed off as he flipped one of the steaks over. “He’s complicated. He’s not great with commitment. Elide is the only girl he’s been in a real relationship with as long as I’ve known him.”

“And how long is that?” Aelin asked, transferring the chopped veggies into a baking dish.

“We’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. Okay, I won’t bring up anything to do with weddings or babies or any other lifelong commitments.”

“Good idea,” Rowan chuckled. “It may not seem like it, but as of now, Lorcan likes you. Imagine how cranky of an ass he would be if you got on his bad side.”

“Almost as bad as it is for someone who gets on mine,” Aelin grinned, and that mischief sent a thrilling chill down Rowan’s spine.

He opened his mouth to respond, to say something along the lines of lets do it right here, right now, before they get here, but a single knock sounded on the door.

Aelin whistled. “Even Lorcan’s knock is grumpy.”

“It’s also early,” Rowan mumbled, setting the tongs he’d been using down beside the stove and heading for the door. On any other occasion, Lorcan would have let himself in, like usual, but he knew how important this night was. Or at least was to Rowan.

He opened the door and found Lorcan grimacing, while the petite girl with dark hair was bouncing from foot to foot.

“Is she here?” Elide asked, grin growing. “Or do I have time to grill you about this alone before she shows up?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to grill us both,” Aelin said, appearing from the kitchen, a smile on her face.

As Rowan shut the door behind them, Elide’s mouth popped open into a little O and her eyes narrowed.

Aelin’s grin grew. “Hello, Elide.”

“Aelin,” she breathed. “Aelin Aelin? As in…Aelin?”

“I’m guessing it was the same Elide,” Lorcan mumbled, carrying a covered dish into the apartment. “Elide made dessert.”

With that, he was going into the kitchen to place it on the table.

The two women ran towards each other and embraced. Rowan kept his mouth shut as he watched the scene unfold.

Elide stepped back. “You don’t seem as surprised as me. Why don’t you seem as surprised as me?”

“Lorcan told me where you were from and how you moved around last time I was graced with his presence.” Aelin shrugged, that grin remaining. “I had a hunch, but wasn’t sure. Besides, if it did end up being you, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

Elide turned and glared at her boyfriend. “A little heads up would have been appreciated.”

He was already halfway to the fridge, heading for a beer he knew Rowan would have restocked for them. “What she said. I didn’t want to get the story wrong or your hopes up.”

Rolling her eyes, Elide looked back to Aelin. “Men.”

Ending up back in the kitchen, Aelin finished up the veggies and was putting them in the oven when Elide asked, “So Aelin, how exactly did you two meet?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan and then back towards Elide. She was sipping her wine as she leaned against the counter, looking like the picture of innocence. Lorcan was shaking his head where he stood next to her.

Clearing her throat softly, she took the safe route. “In class.”

Elide’s eyes lit up. “So he really is your professor.”

“I thought that had been established,” Rowan mumbled, covering the steaks with foil to rest before they ate.

“I wasn’t sure if you two were just trying to mess with me again,” she said, eyeing Lorcan and Rowan. Turning to Aelin, she said, “I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl anymore. You have no idea how awful it is being the third wheel with these two.”

“You’re the third wheel with these two?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

Elide barked a laugh. “Absolutely. The more time you spend around these lovebirds, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Their bromance is out of control.”

“Bromance, huh?” Aelin grinned as Rowan rolled his eyes.

“It’s cute, really,” Elide said, then slowly shook her head as she met Aelin’s eyes. “Wow. I just can’t believe it’s you. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Aelin said, and Lorcan cleared his throat from where he stood on the other side of the room.

“Are we done with sappy pleasantries?” He asked. “I came to eat.”

Elide pointed to the oven, where the vegetables were still roasting. “Five more minutes in the oven, but you and Rowan can set the table if you don’t feel like hearing us talk.”

She gave him a brilliant smile, which he scowled at, but Rowan indeed clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and led him from the room.

“Are you still close with Aedion? How is he?”

Elide asked, perching on one of the bar stools as Aelin refilled their wine glasses and stirred the pot of mashed potatoes on the stove.

“Yeah, he practically lives with me,” Aelin replied rolling her eyes affectionately. “He’s dating my best friend, and graduates in the spring, like me.”

“What’s he studying?” Elide asked, then added. “I thought he was older than us.”

“He is, by two years. He took a year off to find himself,” Aelin snorted, holding up air quotes. “Then he changed his major twice, which gave him a few unexpected setbacks. But he’ll have a degree in sports medicine and will be going back at some point to get his specialization in physical therapy.”

“I remember him being big into sports,” Elide nodded. “Good for him.”

“And you?” Aelin asked, leaning her elbows on the counter. “College not the path for you?”

“Oh no,” Elide said, chuckling. “I went for a few months before deciding it wasn’t for me. I started serving and making good tips, so I didn’t pursue anything else until recently. About a year ago I started getting really into pottery. I started my own little business a couple months ago, that I do for just a little extra cash and for the hell of it.”

“Really?” Aelin asked, brow raised. “That's incredible. What do you make?”

Elide opened her mouth to speak, but it was Lorcan that said. “Vases, mostly. She’s incredibly talented.”

Aelin hadn’t even heard them come back in, but as if on cue, the timer behind her went off. She turned to pull the vegetables out of the oven, but glanced back over her shoulder and Elide, who was smiling softly at Lorcan. “You’ll have to show me,” she said, setting the baking dish on a trivet. “I’d love to buy one.”

Elide’s smile was almost as radiant as she was.

“Okay. No more ordering in when we come over,” Elide said, setting her fork and knife down on her nearly empty plate. “You’re cooking from now on, Rowan.”

Everything had been delicious, even if the potatoes had been instant. Rowan was pretty damn proud of himself. “Aelin helped,” he said, his hand finding her knee under the table.

“Then you better keep her, because that was delicious and take out isn’t going to cut it anymore.” Elide sipped from her wine and winked at Aelin from across the table.

“Even I can’t protest that,” Lorcan said, throwing his arm around the back of Elides chair.

“And I didn’t help that much,” Aelin said, holding her hands up. “Rowan started cooking this afternoon. I just put veggies in the oven.”

“Well, either way, it means Lor and I are on clean up duty. You two go relax,” Elide said, and rose, beginning to pick up plates.

Lorcan groaned but followed his girlfriend’s lead, nonetheless.

Aelin laughed quietly as she took Rowan’s hand and pulled him into the living room.

“I like the hold she has over him,” Aelin said, once they were alone. “It’s inspiring.”

Rowan hummed as he put an arm around her and pulled her against his side. “That’s a great way to describe Elide. Inspiring.”

Aelin thought of the murky memories she had of the young girl. She’d moved to Perranth right around the time Aelin’s own parents had died. Sadly, that move had been prompted by the same reason. Elide’s parents had also passed and her uncle had received full guardianship of her, and he lived in Perranth. Rather than uproot his life, he decided to uproot Elide’s. She had been too young for a cell phone, so there had been no way to stay in touch at the time, but Aelin was glad to see her back in Orynth. She was sure Aedion would be happy to hear about it, too.

“I think she likes you,” Rowan murmured, his lips by her ear.

Her laughter was soft as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’d hope so. She’s known me since we were children.”

Rowan scoffed. “That means nothing. I’ve known

Lorcan since we were children and half the time

I hate him.”

Aelin’s head fell back as she laughed a little louder. “Well, that’s understandable. But me? I’m a peach.”

“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, and kissed her, softly. She held onto him a little bit tighter, and she couldn’t help but think how perfectly the night had gone.

If only the people who currently knew about their relationship would be the only people that knew about their relationship, Aelin wouldn't mind it. At least, not for a while.

“Elide was right, though,” Aelin muttered. “Your food is delicious. I’m continuously impressed by you.”

He shook his head and laughed quietly. “Thank the Internet. I can just follow directions well.”

The two fell into silence as they listened to Lorcan and Elide’s banter from the kitchen, and Aelin couldn’t help but laugh. It was clear they had been together for a while, with how comfortable they were, and Aelin was happy for them, if not a little bit jealous. She knew it was something that couldn’t be rushed, but feeling like that with someone, like that someone was home, was something she hadn’t experienced in a while.

“He’a different around her,” Aelin quietly mused as Lorcan’s deep rumble of laughter reached them from the other room.

Rowan nodded slowly. “Their story isn’t mine to tell, but… He helped her out of a dark place, but she also saved him, in her own way.”

She understood that. Hopefully, she and Elide would become close enough that she’d feel like she could open up to her.

It’d be nice to have another girlfriend, like Lysandra.

“You should come over one night this week,” Aelin said, looking up into his face. “So you can get to know Aedion and Lysandra.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I think Lysandra and I got a good start on that in class.”

Aelin grinned as she framed his face with her hands. “She’s a little extra, but so am I, so you shouldn’t mind that too much.”

Rowan scrunched his nose but sighed. “I guess that would be fine…considering they already know about us.”

“Kind of hard to hide from my best friend and roommate,” Aelin muttered. “And obnoxious cousin.”

“We could always go up north for a weekend, too,” Rowan suggested. “With Lor, Elide, and Lysandra and your cousin. I have a cabin there.”

“Of course you do.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “Spoiled, rotten rich kid.”

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but before she could ask about it, or even begin to apologize, Elide was sweeping into the room. “Dinner is all cleaned up and I still have room for dessert. Anyone else?”

“Depends on what it is,” Rowan smirked, his arm still around Aelin. That hurt was gone and Aelin wondered if she’d imagined it. “Not your attempt at a crockpot apple pie again, is it?”

“That was one time and had too little liquid. My crockpot was too large,” she huffed, but crossed her arms. “It’s a triple chocolate cake, actually.”

Aelin’s interest was immediately piqued. “Oh, there’s always room for chocolate cake.”

Elide grinned and took her hand, pulling her off the couch and into the kitchen. Lorcan took a seat on the other side of the couch and sighed.

“The two of them together is terrifying.”

Rowan smiled. He was sure they could get into some trouble, but it was nothing he and Lorcan wouldn’t be able to handle.

He was happy, he realized, trying to shove back the dark memories he’d accidentally dredged up. He was happier than he’d been in years, and Aelin was the reason.

He just prayed nothing happened to end that happiness.

#tempting the fates #snacmc ttf #rowaelin ttf #throne of glass #rowaelin #snacmc collab

106 notes · View notes

ackermanslov4r · 3 years

Text

summary : you wanted to surprise levi by cooking him something,but he comes unexpectedly while you’re doing it,and discovers the kitchen all dirty

this is kinda fluffy,AND i wrote this at midnight so idk if it’s good or not 😐

« Oh shit,shit,shit »

The kitchen was a total mess. You were glad to know that Levi was in his office,because if he saw that,he’ll go completely,totally ,mad. There were cooking ingredients all over the floor,the walls,and unfortunately,barely any of them in the bowl.

A few days ago,while reading the newspaper,you’d seen a recipe for a cake,and even if you’d never bake anything in your whole live,you wanted to try it. And,you wanted to surprise Levi with it. He’d been working a lot more recently,overworking himself and barely sleeping,and you thought,yes ,you thought that maybe a cake will makes him feel better.

But right now,looking at the disaster in front of you,it will be a miracle if you even managed to go finish the recipe.And,to clean everything after. Focused on it,and on your thoughts,you didn’t heard the door open behind you,and the steps coming to you.

“What the hell is this ?”

With a jump,you turned,your shocked eyes meeting Levi’s cold gaze. He quickly looked at you,but his attention slowly went back to what was behind you. His whole body was tended,almost like he was retaining himself from jumping on the nearer cleaning product.

“Why are you here ? I thought you were supposed to work until late in the night.”

“I forgot a paper here.” he walked to you,his eyes still scanning the room. “I go a few hours and you turn this room into the dirtiest place ever.”

His hands flew over the kitchen’s furnitures,his fingers turning whiter because of the flour on it. He rose his hand to his eyes,all his attention focus on the dirt on it.

“I wanted to cook you something. You’ve been working a lot recently ,i thought you’ll like it.”

“But it turns out you’re a total shit at cooking,uh ?” he said,his eyes meeting yours,a sudden light visible in them.

“The recipe looked easy,okay ?”

Levi,with a “Tch”,took a few step to face you. Gently,his hand still covered in flour,he moved a bit of your hair that was falling in front of your eyes.

“You got the kitchen and yourself dirty brat.”

Moving a hand to your face,you realized that it was,actually,true. Your whole face was covered in god knew what,and your clothes were all dirty from the cooking ingredients. It was a miracle to see Levi standing this close to someone this unclean.

Levi took his hand away from your forehead,only to place a finger full of flour on it a few seconds later.With an evil smirk,he drew some lazy circle.

“You’re already dirty,i don’t see what this is going to change to it”

Seeing him like that,with this expression on the face ,gave you an idea and slowly,barely moving to be sure he won’t notice,you laid your finger on the dirty furniture,before putting it on Levi’s face.

He now had a long line of flour all over the face and on his eyelashes. His body went still,and slowly,with his clean hand,he touched his face,making sure the dirt on it was real. When he indeed realized it,a flash of anger appeared on his eyes,quickly replaced by something more playful.

« You’re going to regret this y/n. »

« Really ? But what did i do wrong,exactly,Mr Ackerman ? »

As you walked away from him,Levi walked to you,his eyes,his focus only on you. He seemed to have forgot why he came here in the first place,and what the space around you looked like. There was only you,you and him.

Your back met something hard,and while you took a quick look over your shoulder to see what it was,Levi took his advantage of it and grabbed you by the waist. A small scream went from your mouth as he took you to your room and your shared bed.

Gently,he laid you on it,and,a sparkle you weren’t used to see on his eyes,put his floured hand all over your face and clothes.

« Now maybe you won’t get me dirty again. »

His hands went to your side,and,with the ghost of a smile on his face,he started to tickle them. The man was now on top of you,and was tickling you. Your body moving beneath his to try to get away from him,you burst out in a loud laugh,filling Levi’s ears with what he thought was the most heavenly sound on heart.

« Levi...I...Am...Sorry! Stop now...Ple...Ase ! »

Barely able to form words because of your laughter,you tried to push him away. With a last move of his hands,he finally stopped,looking at you with so much emotions in the eyes. For once,he looked happy,happy to be there,alive and with you.

« You learned the lesson then i guess ? »

« Which lesson ? »

And,with another laugh,you put the flour that was left in your hands into Levi’s hair.

#attack on titan #levi ackerman headcanons #aot hcs #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #captain levi #anime #levi aot #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fic

147 notes · View notes

mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

"Whipped Cream" - Part 1 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, some mild swearing near the end, rating will go up due to explicit content in later chapters.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Chef Nanami anyone? Probably the only job that he'd actually enjoy haha. I'm not sure how many parts this will have but I'm not going to rush it, I pretty much have the plot and ending all planned out, let's see how fast we can get there haha. As always, didn't have time to proofread so please don't mind the mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.5k

“Happy Birthday!”

Sitting at a table inside a small restaurant, you looked at your best friend as she handed you a colourful envelop. Money? She wasn’t your mother. A postcard? Too cheap considering she only bought you a bouquet of flowers.

“Open it already!”

Like obeying a command, you opened it and peeked inside. A gift card? How original. You spent days preparing the gift for her birthday and she gets you a gift card. Seeing your disappointed expression, she quickly explained.

“It’s a cooking course! You always said you wanted to attend one but never got the time, I figured if I bought it, then you’d have no choice but to go.”

You took the card out and began to inspect it. The words VIP were written in a golden colour as well as the name of the school you’d be attending.

“It was the most popular course, apparently you have to book it months in advance. I was really lucky since someone dropped out at the last minute.”

“When will I have the time to-”

“Shhhh!” She placed her index finger on your lips in order to shut you up. “The group session is thrice a week and you have twelve lessons in total. It’s after working hours and if for some reason you can’t attend then they can schedule a private lesson for the weekend. Benefit of a VIP and all.” She flipped her hair in a proud way and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Who says money can’t buy a very expensive and needless cooking course?

The truth was, you loved to cook, it was the only time you felt calm in your otherwise hectic life. You were also pretty good at it but self-taught. You once joked that it would be fun to take some lessons and actually sharpen your skills but that was the point, you were joking. You remember the promise you made to yourself at the beginning of the year that you would go to the gym every day and get in shape. You bought a class pass for a year with a personal trainer and only ended up going for a week or two. You still received reminders weekly that you should be attending since it was already paid.

“Thank you, it’s a really thoughtful gift.” You offered her a smile as you played with the card in your hand. Well, one lesson or two might not take up too much of your time. You were also curios to know why this particular course was so popular.

“You’re welcome! Also, from what I’ve heard but nothing confirmed yet, the chef that’s going to teach you is really good looking.” Her eyes gleamed and you wondered if she was sending you out like a scout, to test the water and if it was good then she’d join as well.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait to be surrounded by an army of housewives.”

Monday afternoon you found yourself at the reception of the cooking school you’d be attending for the next couple of weeks. You had to admit that so far the building looked impressive. There were several classes from what you could tell and the lobby was already pretty crowded.

“Can I help you?”

The pleasant looking receptionist gave you a smile and you handed her your VIP card.

“Yes, I’m here to attend the course with chef Nanami Kento.”

“Oh, Nanami-sensei!” She gleefully took your card and began the registration. “You’re pretty lucky, this is our most popular class. It’s quite unusual for someone to drop out.”

“So I keep hearing.”

She gave you back your card as well as a small bag that contained several items.

“You have here your apron as well as your class schedule and several cooking accessories that you get to keep at the end of the lessons. The class is 10-A, the very last room at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy this experience!”

You smiled and thanked her before heading to the classroom. Upon entering you realized that your fears had been justified, the whole room was filled with women ranging from mid-thirties to some ladies that looked in their sixties. Only women, and they all seemed to know each other.

You moved to one of the islands in the back, taking out your apron and putting it on. You had to admit you kind of felt like you were participating in the Great British Bake Off. In terms of gadgets at your disposal, everything was modern and your island was well equipped with everything one might need for the cooking process. You had your very own oven and stove as well as a Kitchen aid and several other utensils. In one of the drawers you found a cutting board as well as a set of knives and several bowls. You were starting to realize why the fee had been so expensive.

“First time here?”

You turned around and nodded sheepishly at a group of older looking women.

“I guess everyone knows each other huh?”

“For most of us this is the second time we’ve taken this course, it’s quite lovely, you learn a lot of things.” You couldn’t help but wonder why they would need to take the exact same course twice. Either they didn’t manage to learn what they were supposed to the first time around or the chef really was thathandsome.

“I’m looking forward to it as well, I want to sharpen my skill and this one came highly recommended.”

“Are you married?” The question came as a punch in the gut and they all looked at you like it was the most normal thing one could ask.

“We didn’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Urm no, married to my work perhaps.” You offered a light chuckle but no one else found it funny.

“Then for whom are you sharpening your skills for? Any children?”

At this point you thought their questions were quite intrusive and rude. Were they perhaps thinking that you were a threat? A young new girl that was going to steal away the attention of their sensei? You were actually starting to get aggravated by their attitude. What happened to solidarity between women?

“I want to sharpen them for myself. No children, just a cat, pretty lucky I suppose.” Their eyes narrowed and you smiled to yourself. Teasing them was proving to be quite fun.

“Oh? Well, you’ll want them when you’re older. Although, you should probably hurry, not much time left to spare.” By this point your hand was itching to slap at least one of them. What an unpleasant bunch of old hags!

You were ready to give a sharp reply when the door of the classroom was opened and your teacher stepped inside. You hated to admit it, you really hated it, but he was indeed handsome. Blonde hair, light coloured eyes, build like a brick wall, sharp features and when he opened his mouth to greet the class, you fawned over his deep voice.

“I’m glad to see some familiar faces…and new ones of course.” His eyes landed on you and you shifted, feeling like a doe caught in the headlights. His presence was quite something, no wonder these women were ready to turn into harpies just for a bit of his attention. Still, it wasn’t enough to win you over. If anything, you felt an instant antipathy towards him-he seemed too arrogant for your taste.

“We’ll start our first day with a test bake. I want to see each and everyone’s level before we begin our lessons.” As he spoke, he neatly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and put his own apron on. You could actually hear sighs going around the room but he seemed unbothered.

“You can bake anything you like, something you’re comfortable and good at.” With that said, he gave you an hour and a half to see what you’d come up with.

You decided on your famous lemon cookies, they were pretty easy to make and every time you baked a batch your friends would fight over it. As you were creaming the butter with the sugar you felt a presence near your station and turned to look at Nanami that was peeking inside the glass bowl.

“What are you making?” Just like that, no introduction, no small talk, right down to business.

“Lemon cookies. They’re-”

“Quite a simple recipe, don’t you think? I wanted to see your level, this is something even a child could bake.” Your heart dropped a little. You weren’t great at taking criticism and you couldn’t stand how those old hangs from before were snickering behind you.

“You said to bake something that we’re good at.”

“So lemon cookies are the only thing you’re good at? Hmm.” With that he left your station and you just stared at his back as he went on to check on someone else. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment and anger. You were going to shut him up, once he had a taste of your cookies he’d eat his words, as well as the whole batch.

It seemed, however, that the universe was working against you. The batter didn’t have enough time to chill and since you weren’t accustomed to the oven you over-baked them. You stared at the plate of spread lemon cookies, not one looking the same as the other, and chew on your bottom lip.

With your baking time coming to an end, he was walking from one stand to another, mostly complimenting the results. The other women in your class were a giggling mess, thanking him like he had offered salvation just for eating one of their treats.

When he finally reached your station, you felt his judging eyes burning holes into your very soul.

“What happened?”

“Well, the fridge is not set to the right temperature. The one I have at home is much cooler, and I didn’t have time to let the batter set. Also, the oven is different from-”

“A simple recipe but you couldn’t finish it properly. Everyone in class uses the same type of fridge and oven, no one else had any problems.”

You wanted to argue back, wanted to say how unfair it was since they were all well accustomed to their working stations because they had already taken this class. Instead you kept quiet and fought back tears that had formed at the corner of your eyes. If you wanted someone to look down on your work you would have stayed overtime at your office.

“Can’t be helped, since you’re at beginner level. You have to keep up with the rest of the class so please pay extra attention during lessons and don’t hesitate to ask your classmates for advice.” With that said he continued to stroll around the room, throwing nice remarks left and right.

When the class was finally over you grabbed your bag and dashed out of the room. You struggled to take off your apron as you walked through the main reception and into the elevator that led to the parking lot. When you finally managed to set yourself free you fished the phone from your handbag and dialled your friend.

“Hey little chef, how was your first-”

“Horrible! I’m never coming here again!” You practically screamed in your phone as the elevator doors closed. You were shaking with anger and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror from the opposite wall, you also realized you looked just as upset as you felt.

“He’s an ass! He didn’t teach us shit! Test bake he said, so I made my lemon cookies you know.”

“Oh I love those!”

“Right?! Too easy he said, even a child could make them! The damn fridge wasn’t working properly and I forgot to set the oven so they spread a little but they were still good! Then he just made fun of me in front of the whole class and ugh don’t even get me started on them-” You continued to vent as the doors of the elevator opened and you stepped inside the underground parking lot.

“All of them have taken the class before and they’re just here to drool over the teacher. I swear it’s a fucking joke, his class is only popular because every single middle-aged married woman there wants to fuck him!” You stopped from your raging rant to look for your cars keys that were nowhere to be found. “I swear they all have some sick fantasies with him! He’s not a chef, he’s just some thirty something guy that preys on naïve women. He probably doesn’t even know how to whip cream!” You huffed in anger while trying to juggle the bag you received at the reception, your handbag and your phone.

“Where the hell are my car keys?”

“They seemed to have fallen at your feet.”

You froze, feeling the blood draining from your body. You turned around in slow motion and looked up at the figure of your teacher who was only a few feet away from you. You didn’t realize just how tall and menacing he looked until now.

“Urm, I-”

“I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday. That is, if you want to attend a class taught by a guy who doesn’t know how to whip cream.”

The sweet embrace of death couldn’t have come faster. You picked your keys from the ground and tried to form some kind of apology but he quickly walked through the parking lot towards his car. He opened the door of an expensive looking Mercedes and drove away, leaving you standing there like a complete moron.

“Y/n are you still there? What happened?”

“Oh god, oh god, I’ve fucked up!” You began to walk to your car feeling like the worst person on earth. “I’m not sure how much he heard but he heard plenty.”

“Ohoho this is getting interesting!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” You spat bitterly as you opened the door of your own car and stepped inside, throwing you bags on the empty seat. “Well, I shouldn’t bother with what he thinks anyway. He was mean to mean first and it’s not like I’m going again.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one! I didn’t spend so much money just so your workaholic ass can come up with excuses not to attend! I don’t care if he likes you or not, despite what you may think he was highly recommended for his skill not for his looks.” You grumbled as you turned on your engine, really hating the fact that your friend was making a point. You loved to cook, you were good at it, you might have had a bad day and now your teacher hated you, but you shouldn’t give up on the opportunity to learn proper cooking skills.

“Alright, I’m going to try a few more lessons. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t kill me by the end of the week.”

“That’s my girl!” You rolled your eyes and hanged up the phone before driving off. You really didn’t like Nanami and now he had more than enough reasons not to like you, but you also weren’t a quitter. If anything, you will continue to go to classes out of pure spite. You’ll show him how skilful you actually were, far better than any of those hyenas from your class. You’ll whip that cream until you’ll turn it into butter.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader

140 notes · View notes

professorkenobi · 3 years

Text

a catboy for christmas

Note: This is a big time jump forward in the stray catboy au, but you can read the last part here. And you can see adorable art for this snippet by the wonderful shatou here! Happy Holidays all!

For many years, Obi-Wan had dutifully broken out the ladder and strung up Christmas lights on his house every December. And, for many years, he’d opted against shopping for a tree, hauling it into his living room and decorating it, just for him to be the only person who’d enjoy it.

On the odd year that he had friends over during the holiday season, he’d break out the holly-trimmed dinnerware set from the storage bin in the garage, but that was about the extent of his indoor decorating.

He was always busy with the end of the semester anyway. To go to all of that effort just for himself was pointless.

But, with Anakin, it was different.

Halfway through the ordeal of stringing lights from the roof, Anakin came outside with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were sleeping quite peacefully when I got up at seven.”

Anakin made a face. “Well, now that it’s a normal time to be awake I can help.”

Which was how Anakin ended up the one balancing on the top of the ladder, seemingly very much in his element, while Obi-Wan fed him the lights from the ground.

By the time they were finished, Obi-Wan’s hands were numb in his gloves and Anakin’s ears were stiff from the cold. So Obi-Wan went about making hot chocolate while Anakin started a fire, and Anakin roped him into watching not just Home Alone, but the sequels too (“How can this be the sequel, that isn’t even the same child,”—”Just trust me, okay, it’s really good!”—sigh).

He didn’t register exactly when he started rubbing his fingers over Anakin’s silky ears to warm them up, but he continued even after Anakin scooted closer and dropped his head onto his shoulder.

—

Obi-Wan asked around at work for the best Christmas tree farm in the area, so that weekend they bundled up and set about finding a tree to fit in the corner of the living room.

He’d been planning to pick out a tree alone, knowing Anakin was still struggling with venturing out into public, but as soon as he’d mentioned the trip Anakin had perked up and declared they should go right now, before all the good trees are taken!

Obi-Wan soon discovered out that by good trees, Anakin meant big trees.

“This one.”

“Anakin, that’s not going to fit.”

Anakin pointed at the tree with the axe in his hand. “But it’s the perfect tree! It smells the freshest.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Smells the freshest, really...

The tree also happened to be ample enough to take up half their living room. But Obi-Wan ran a hand over the branches, checking for loose needles, and discovered that this was indeed the healthiest tree they’d seen so far. And if it was the one Anakin wanted…

“Alright then, looks like we found our tree.”

Anakin’s responding grin set off a delicate flutter in his chest.

The tree was almost too big to fit the racks on Obi-Wan’s sedan, but they somehow managed to secure it.

With Anakin taking charge of not only chopping the tree down, but also heaving its bulk through the front door, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine not having Anakin with him for the task.

The realization that he couldn’t imagine ever not having Anakin with him again hit him like a snowball to the chest.

—

It got dark out so early at this time of year, but inside Obi-Wan’s little kitchen it was cozy and bright, filled with the spicy scent of baking gingerbread.

“Where’s the vanilla?”

“Middle shelf on the end.” He nodded in the general direction.

“Gotcha!” Jars clattered as Anakin rummaged through the cabinet. Obi-Wan set the last spoon in the dish drainer and wiped his hands on a towel.

He turned just in time to catch Anakin pouring vanilla straight into the mixer bowl.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to measure that?”

“Leave the science to me, old man.” Anakin cracked a sharp-toothed smile and started the mixer, mostly drowning out the jazz drifting from the speakers.

It was true that Obi-Wan wasn’t much of a baker. He was a fair cook, but tended to stick to the same rotation of dishes for his weekly meal planning. Anakin, on the other hand, was accomplished enough that he had a disquieting tendency to play fast and loose with the recipe.

It bothered Obi-Wan less than he would have thought. He couldn’t even bring himself to mind the mess. Not when it was created by Anakin flitting around the kitchen, getting a dusting of flour on his ears and everything else in the vicinity.

Obi-Wan busied himself drying dishes until the mixer powered down.

“Wanna lick?”

Anakin stood at his shoulder, holding out a beater absolutely drenched in white frosting. His other hand hovered underneath to catch any drips.

“Ah— tempting, but no thank you.”

“You sure?” Anakin shook the beater slightly, and a small glob fell onto his fingers. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s yours.”

He had been tempted. But forgoing something small to make Anakin happy felt the most natural thing in the world.

“Your loss!”

Anakin stuck the tip of the beater into his mouth and began enthusiastically licking up the frosting. Obi-Wan caught a flash of pink tongue twining between the wires and swallowed reflexively, heat rising to his cheeks.

He was dimly aware that he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. Not as Anakin began cleaning off his hands, seemingly unaware of the picture he made with one sticky finger after another disappearing between his full lips and more frosting smeared across his cheek.

“You have a little, er, by your mouth there,” he managed.

“Oh, thanks.” Anakin wiped at his face, missing by a mile. “Did I get it?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Not quite— here, let me.” He swiped at Anakin’s cheek with his thumb and, unthinkingly, brought it to his mouth.

The taste of vanilla and sugar burst saccharine on his tongue.

“You were right.”

Anakin blinked at him, wide-eyed. “A-about what?”

“It is delicious.”

—

He was straining to reach the top of the tree when Anakin walked in from the kitchen, the last bite of a cookie in his hand.

“Wait, let me do that!”

Anakin swiped the star from his hands with ease and went right up on his tip-toes. He had just the extra couple inches that were needed to place the star in the right spot, nestling it among the highest branches so it wouldn’t topple.

Then he turned to him, a wide grin dimpling his cheeks. “How’s that?”

The sight of Anakin, backlit by the tree’s sparkling lights, bundled in Obi-Wan’s biggest sweater with pale thighs bare above argyle socks, and smiling at him with open joy—it stole his breath, made him feel a little unsteady on his feet.

“It’s perfect.” He reached up to push a stray curl out of Anakin’s face, and his hand got playfully headbutted in return. “Thank you, dear.”

Anakin went pink at that, ducking his head and busying himself with rearranging the garland on the tree. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks go a touch warm as well. He hadn’t meant to say it so… affectionately.

Well. Maybe he had.

Anakin tucked in the end of the tinsel and stepped back, surveying the whole picture with arms crossed.

“Looks finished, to me. Whaddaya think?”

“I’ll have to defer to your expertise. I, ah, actually haven’t had a Christmas tree in many years,” Obi-Wan admitted.

Anakin frowned. “So do you not have people over for the holidays or whatever?”

“Not really.”

“Then, do you usually, I mean...” Anakin looked down, picking at a nonexistent ball of lint on his sweater. “Will you be going somewhere else for Christmas, then?”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan took him softly by the elbow. Anakin’s eyes, twin pools brimming with reflected light, caught his and held. “I was hoping we could spend it together. If you’d like.”

Anakin’s mouth fell open in a soft o. “You mean that? Just the two of us?”

Obi-Wan’s grip slid down the back of Anakin’s arm, searching beneath his overlong sleeve for his hand. It was warm, and he squeezed it.

“Of course I mean it.”

“Then, yeah.” Anakin’s fingers curled around his and squeezed back. “I’d like that.”

—

On Christmas Eve, they cooked dinner together with a backdrop of snow falling outside the window, dusting the back deck in a fluffy layer of white.

While they ate, splitting a saucepan’s worth of mulled wine between them (“You don’t eat the orange slices, Anakin.”—“What? Why wouldn’t you?”—“...I suppose you’re right, that’s a silly rule,”) Obi-Wan’s thoughts naturally strayed to the blackberry brambles, to the frozen dirt, the swirling flurries.

He looked outside, into the darkness, and then turned to Anakin, his head of curls golden under the warm glow of the evening lights, talking heatedly about—something about peppermint bark—and he was filled with overwhelming gratitude that Anakin was here and not out there.

Anakin’s arms stopped their wild gesturing. “Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” Obi-Wan raised his glass to hide his lips and found himself inadvertently smiling even wider. “I just like listening to you.”

“Oh.” He was rewarded with a tentative little smile in return.

They ended up on the couch, their glasses topped off, with the fire crackling and the Christmas tree lit up in all its glory.

Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure which movie they were watching, but Anakin seemed to enjoy it. For his part, the mulled wine had gone to his head a little. Perhaps he could rest his eyes, just for a moment...

When he opened them again, the credits had rolled and the fire was starting to burn low. Anakin's head was pillowed on his thigh, curls carelessly tossed across his face. His breath rose and fell softly and his ears twitched every few seconds with whatever dream he was having.

Obi-Wan smoothed a hand over them until they stilled. He hoped it was a happy dream.

He would have happily stayed there all night, but his leg was starting to fall asleep. Yes, it was definitely time for them to retire to bed, but he didn’t have it in him to wake Anakin, not when he was sleeping so soundly.

So, very carefully, he gathered Anakin into his arms and carried him up the stairs.

Anakin didn’t seem to rouse, not even when his foot accidentally bumped against the doorway, but he did snuffle in his sleep and curl in closer to his body, probably seeking out warmth.

Obi-Wan thought he might’ve heard him mumble something, right as he deposited him in bed, but he couldn’t make it out.

With Anakin’s face so relaxed and beautiful in his sleep, he couldn’t resist gently brushing his knuckles over the delicate cheekbone.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Anakin.”

—

The thump-thump-thump of hurried feet running down the stairs was Obi-Wan’s only warning before he had a gift-wrapped box thrust in front of his face.

“Merry Christmas,” Anakin declared, his eyes bright and excited under sleep-mussed curls.

“You didn’t—”

Anakin practically pushed the present into his chest. “Nuh-uh. You have to accept it. I worked hard on it.”

After a beat, Obi-Wan set his cup aside and took the offered present. He recognized the glossy candy canes as his own wrapping paper. Anakin must have sniffed out the bin hiding under the bed.

He’d also found the roll of red ribbon, and had tied it into a bow bigger than the box itself.

Obi-Wan set the box on the couch next to him. “I won’t open mine until you open yours.”

Anakin’s brow creased in earnest as he caught sight of the modest collection of packages under the tree. “Obi-Wan, this is too much. I can’t let you—mmph.”

Obi-Wan had brought up a hand to cover his mouth. “Not another word. They’re for you.”

Anakin tried to say something, making the hairs on Obi-Wan’s arm stand on end as soft lips brushed his palm. He quickly drew back.

“Fine,” Anakin frowned at him. “But it’s still ridiculous.”

Obi-Wan wagged a finger playfully. “If I hear any more complaints out of you, young man, I’ll start taking them back.”

“But I want them!” Anakin pouted at him, and he had to hide his smile behind his hand.

An almost overwhelming feeling of fondness swelled in Obi-Wan’s chest as he watched Anakin tear into his gifts. He amassed a small pile of mostly practical items— clothes and socks, warm and sturdy ones that wouldn’t go threadbare and leave him shivering. A set of products for his curly hair. A few hobby engineering volumes that came highly recommended by the countergirl at Obi-Wan’s favorite local bookstore.

Anakin saved the largest package for last. “What’s this, Obi-Wan?”

“Go on, open it.”

He tore away the paper and stared down at what it revealed.

“It’s a coffee maker,” Obi-Wan said. “I thought you must be tired of making do with a teapot every morning.”

Anakin just kept staring.

“It came very well rated, has all the functions, you can set it to start when you wake up and—” he realized he was rambling. “Is it alright?”

Finally looking up, Anakin smiled at him. For some strange reason, his eyes were shining, tears threatening to spill over. “It’s perfect, Obi-Wan. Thank you so much.”

He scooted closer and wrapped Obi-Wan in a tight embrace, his breath fanning warm on Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan returned the hug, rubbing soothing circles on Anakin’s back.

Far too soon, they pulled apart. Obi-Wan reached for his little present, beyond curious to see what Anakin had come up with.

Anakin looked to the side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more.”

“Shh, I didn’t expect anything.” Obi-Wan pulled at the bow and opened the box.

He traced his fingers over the smooth curves and contours of the wood in awe. “Anakin,” he breathed. “You... you made this?”

Anakin started wringing his tail in his lap, his eyes downcast. “It’s not much, but it’s… well I…”

Obi-Wan clutched the carving tight to his chest. “I love it. Thank you. Although…”

Anakin’s face fell instantly. Obi-Wan’s heart hammered a staccato beat even as he pulled the ribbon loose from the wrapping paper and brought it up around Anakin’s neck.

To their credit, his fingers only trembled a little as he carefully tied the ribbon into a loose bow around Anakin’s neck. Like a flamboyant necklace, or perhaps a, like a collar…

“You are worth more to me than any gift you could give me.”

The beautiful color that graced Anakin’s cheeks made taking the risk of saying out loud what he felt in his heart worth it. He wanted to say more, there was so much in his heart that was aching to be spilled, but before he could speak Anakin was leaning over to grab the Santa hat off the table and placing it on Obi-Wan’s head, the fuzzy brim nearly falling into his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said softly, his eyes twinkling.

Joy bloomed in his chest. “Merry Christmas, Anakin.”

#stray catboy au #obikin

144 notes · View notes

whocalledhimannux · 3 years

Text

@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

#queen's thief #attolia irene #kamet #costis ormentiedes #sophos #eugenides #teleus #eddis helen #laela #oh dear I bet her tag is virtually unsearchable #sorry laela

51 notes · View notes

chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 112

Part: 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 09 I 10 I 11

GN. Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes

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

Another morning comes. Unlike the previous days, I'm woken up by Barbatos.

"Time to rise and shine young master. Due to yesterday's events, we have to squeeze in another lesson, so I have to wake you up earlier." He sounds cheerful, but his tone gives me shivers.

I did not think he was mad at me yesterday but this is my punishment for sure.

With a groan, I sluggishly get out of bed. "Good morning Barbatos." I yawn. I'm too tired to fight back. "Is there time for my morning shower?"

"Certainly, and there is time for breakfast as well." Barbatos smiles calmly.

With an uncertain feeling, I get ready. I really have to get back on his good side.

Much to my surprise, Barbatos has prepared breakfast in my room today. "Please sit down and eat with your best manners today's meals will be part of your lessons." He certainly thought this through.

I do as he says and use my full arsenal of polished manners. Barbatos corrects me from time to time, but not any different than in our usual lessons.

I hope he can see that I'm working extra hard today.

"Very well, now we will perform a short test of your knowledge." Barbatos presents me with a small stack of papers.

I wish I had prepared for this. The test covers everything I have learned in these past days. Luckily enough it's multiple choice.

Barbatos quickly glances over my finished papers. "You passed, though your score is far from perfect."

I feel very depressed about this, mainly because he usually compliments me. Even when I'm far from perfect.

I look at Barbatos. "I know I made you upset, but please forgive me."

He looks at me seemingly confused. "I'm not upset. I simply want to know where you stand in terms of regular demons." Then he stops himself for a moment, placing a hand on his chin. He thinks for a moment. "I'll take that back. I'm upset about yesterday, but not for the reason that you assume."

"And what reason is that?" I look at him, confused.

"Well, I wanted to choose the outfit with you but now lord Diavolo has taken that experience from me." His face makes no motion.

I blink a few times at him. "We can just choose an outfit together next time." There isn't any issue in my opinion.

"I am well aware of that, but it won't be the outfit for your first party in the devil dom." He sighs, this must be a bigger deal than I thought.

"In that case, we can buy the outfit for my next milestone together." This sounds like a good idea.

"I will look forward to that, and you did a good job on the test." With this, Barbatos seems to be back to normal. This makes me feel instantly better.

Barbatos continues to give me another lesson on the devildom, focusing on its countless dangers. He isn't over yesterday after all.

After this, it's finally time for something much more enjoyable.

Our baking "lesson".

Barbatos leads me to the kitchen. It's very impressive and yet again I don't see a single person around.

I pull out a recipe book. "We should start with something simple since I'm not used to the kitchen here."

"Just tell me what you need." Barbatos seems very excited.

I list the ingredients for simple chocolate cookies.

Barbatos has everything ready at lightning speed.

Then we measure everything. Barbatos is very good at this step. Much as I expected from him to be honest.

Barbatos then turns the mixer on and explains the oven to me. Other than its demonic nature, it's a pretty straightforward oven.

While we wait for the cookies, I show Barbatos the rest of the book. "All of these are very interesting. I think cookies would be the easiest gift. We can easily math out a huge batch that will satisfy Beelzebub." He is very fascinated by every single item in the book.

"Sounds good to me. Maybe we can bake two different recipes to give him a bit of variety, but I wonder if there is something that caught your eye?" It seems to be fairly easy to find some for Beel but I'm curious about what Barbatos wants.

"The cakes interest me the most. There are many options that I would love to serve with tea." He already has some ideas, it seems.

"That sounds great, but I meant for yourself." I gently correct him.

"Serving you and the young lord cake with tea is one of my greatest joys." Barbatos has no concept of accepting treats.

"Then how about a cake for all of us together?" This is a great compromise in my opinion.

"That sounds lovely. How about this cake in that case?" Barbatos points to one of the cakes in the book.

"Sounds great to me." I already look forward to it.

We end up making 3 different types of cookies, after running out of hazelnuts. We make chocolate chip cookies, hazelnut cookies, and basic cookies with different decorations.

I feel pretty proud of the end product. I could probably open a store with all of them. "I think with this amount I can give each of the brothers, you and Diavolo a few to try them."

I look at the huge amount with a sense of pride.

"I'd be honored to get some of these as a present. Barbatos smiles.

"How about eating a few now?" I eye the delicious-looking cookies.

"Certainly, we want to make sure they are good after all," Barbatos smirks at me.

I like this side of Barbatos. I take a cookie and hand it to Barbatos and then grab one for myself. I take a bite. The sweet flavor spreads in my mouth.

"How is it?" With big curious eyes, I look at him.

"It's absolutely delightful." A big smile spreads across his face.

I'm very happy about this.

"But now I regret that I never asked you what your favorite cookies are." He sighs with regret.

"Oh, that would be the chocolate chip cookies. They are simple but there's nothing above them for me." It's the very cookie we have just eaten.

"No wonder it tastes so great. I will make sure to always remember that." Barbatos smiles at me gently.

This causes my cheeks to grow hot. "I'm just glad you enjoy them."

"Should we start with the cake now?" Barbatos must really look forward to the cake.

I smile at his enthusiasm. It's very nice to see a completely new side of Barbatos. Baking with him feels very casual.

"Yes, first we need to prepare the biscuit dough and bake it." We both start to get to work. "It's funny since we have never done this before, but we are a great team."

Barbatos nods. "You are right. We should do this again soon." He seems to enjoy this just as much as I do.

"You are right, next time we need to bake some demon delights." I already look forward to that.

"I have this great recipe that you will love. We should make that." He smiles at me naturally. He seems so different from his usual professional self. I would love to see much more of this side of him.

"That sounds great. Maybe we can cook together too." I always enjoy his food but cooking together sounds fun.

"That would be very lovely." He gently looks at me with a light smile on his face. Then suddenly he seems to remember his standing. "I mean that would be very inappropriate."

I feel a strong tug on my heart. "I need to learn about demon cuisine too." I try to convince him.

He smiles and shakes his head. "Very nice try, but I can not let that slide."

I sigh disappointedly. "But what if I don't know the dish and its ingredients and someone wants to poison me?" I try something else.

Barbatos raises his eyebrows. "You should never eat anything that I haven't given you."

"I just really enjoy doing things like this with you." In desperation, I try the honest approach.

Barbatos blinks a few times. I guess I surprised him again. "I can't win here can I?" Then he chuckles softly. "Alright, but only something easy and fun to cook." He shakes his head with a smile.

I grin at my victory. "Sounds fair to me."

He once again shakes his head and then turns to whip some cream.

Once the cake is made, we decorate it. It looks very good. I sent a picture to Mammon, to make him jealous. It works.

With great pride, Barbatos and I look at our creation."It's so pretty, it's almost a shame to eat it."

"Indeed, but it's cake time so we will." Barbatos looks with great joy at the cake.

I can only nod to that.

I put a few cookies on a plate for Diavolo.

Barbatos prepares everything else. I have seen him preparing the table many times already, but it's still very impressive.

We both wait for Diavolo to arrive.

"It's so great to see. The worst part of my punishment was not being able to see you." Diavolo looks unusually gloomy.

"That wasn't part of your punishment, the young master simply needed to work harder today." Barbatos calmly fills his cup with tea.

"We were very busy. We made today's cake together and the cookies on your plate too." I try to cheer him up.

"Oh, they look great. I'm so glad I finally get to try my siblings’ baking talents." Diavolos mood shifts in an instance. He gives me a big smile when he takes a cookie and bites into it with great delight.

"I baked them with Barbatos, but I hope you will enjoy them." I can't take all the credit by myself.

"I didn't do much." Barbatos doesn't seem to want the credit at all. In all honesty, he did most of the work.

"They are great, the best I ever had." Diavolo doesn't seem to care either way.

"I think that is giving them too much credit." My cheeks are once again hot.

"Don't sell yourself short." Barbatos smiles at me while filling my cup up.

"With all this praise I might become the first demon ruler with their own bakery." I giggle lightly.

"Haha, I'd love to see that." Diavolo gives me a huge laugh. "Oh with all of this fun I almost forgot. We had to move the party to tomorrow. I know it's a big hassle. It just couldn't be helped." Diavolo drops this big news like it's nothing at all.

I almost drop my cup. "TOMORROW?! I'm not ready whatsoever!"

Barbatos raises an eyebrow. "Has that anything to do with the demon brothers?"

"It's mainly because of Lucifer and then the new school year will start sooner than we planned to." Diavolo keeps on calmly drinking his tea.

"This is very troublesome. I will have to go right away to make sure that everything will go smoothly." Barbatos sighs.

"I can't believe it. How will I ever survive at this rate?" I feel so lost right now.

"You will be fine. After all, I will be there to support you." Diavolo is not worried whatsoever.

"I will support you as well and have no doubt that you will shine tomorrow. Due to this sudden change, I have to entrust today's dance lesson to Diavolo, as much as I regret it." Barbatos mumbles the last part.

"Does that mean my duties will be shorter today?" Diavolo shines as he asks this question.

"No." Barbatos coldly refuses his request without another word.

Diavolo shrugs. "Then I will just do my best to be fast today."

"You should strive for that every day." Barbatos looks at Diavolo with narrowed eyes. "Anyway, you don't need to worry at all about tomorrow." Barbatos once again encourages me with a gentle smile.

I can only hope that he is right.

"He is right. There is no way the demon brothers won't love you." To answer my thoughts, Diavolo speaks up.

"Exactly, even I personally would be happy enough with them being cordial towards you." Barbatos shakes his head.

I start to chuckle. "That sounds like you are jealous."

Barbatos seems surprised and coughs a little bit.

Wait does that mean he is jealous? Well, he might just be overprotective.

Then Barbatos seems to remember that he has to be somewhere. "I should get going."

"Yes, please don't worry about us." Diavolo gives Barbatos a kind smile. Barbatos looks critical at Diavolo.

"I will keep him in line." I can imagine what goes through his head.

Barbatos lights up instantly. "I will leave him in your capable hands."

Diavolo shakes his head. "I can take care of myself you know."

Barbatos doesn't acknowledge Diavolo and leaves. He couldn't even finish his cake.

"Of course you can, I think he just likes teasing you." At least something like that.

"Maybe but he might be right too." Diavolo sighs. "I can see why my father adopted you. He probably wanted to motivate me."

"I'm not sure how a simple human could motivate you, but I'm glad if I have that effect on you. Honestly after seeing what it's really like I don't think I even want to become the demon ruler." I never wanted this in the first place.

"Not any human of course, but you certainly do. Ever since you came here I feel more motivated to push my big plan forward. The union between all of the realms. Ever since meeting you, my plan seems more attainable than ever." He looks at me with full sincerity.

He is usually so goofy that it's a completely different feeling from usual.

"It's a great vision, and I think if anyone can do it's you, and if I can support you in any kind of way I will," I say this with my full heart behind it.

"Thank you, you don't know how much these words mean to me…" Diavolo stops himself. "Never mind, we should clean this up and finish today's work."

I'm sure he wanted to say or ask something important just now but stopped himself. I wonder what he was about to tell me, but I can't bring myself to ask.

I only nod and quickly put everything back onto the cart and into the kitchen. Putting everything away, only leaving a cup and the rest of the cake for Barbatos.

Then I read a bit while Diavolo finishes his work.

Diavolo seems very exhausted once he is done. Lucky for him, I saw this coming and prepared him some coffee. "You worked very hard today, drink this to recharge."

"How thoughtful of you, at this rate you might steal Barbatos' job." He seems very happy about my compliment and the coffee.

I giggle. "Nobody can do that."

"You are right." He smiles gently. "I'd also feel strange if you start calling me my lord." He seems to find this thought very amusing.

"You are right, that would be strange." With that, we go to the dance hall.

Diavolo fumbles with the record player and then a slow waltz starts playing.

"Do you still remember the steps?" Diavolo seems slightly concerned.

"Yeah, but I might still step on your feet." I'm unsure of my skills, to say the least.

"Just take it slow and just focus on me." Diavolo gets into the right pose.

I'm used to it, but Diavolo is taller than Barbatos and differently built so it's a completely new experience to dance with him.

Diavolo starts to move slowly, and I can easily follow his lead. It feels very natural.

It doesn't feel like practice somehow but like we even when I still make sure not to step on him.

He smiles at me. "We should dance more freely if we can in the future."

"You mean like at a normal party or a club?" I'm not sure what he means.

"The kind of party we have tomorrow is normal for me but I suppose. I'd like to experience a regular party in your world too." Diavolo looks deep into my eyes.

"That sounds like fun. Have you ever been to a devildom disco?" Our conversation just naturally flows away from tomorrow.

"I have, but I could never mingle. There are always exceptions and usually, people are scared of me." Diavolo looks just a bit sad.

"We should throw a casual party then. With only our friends. I mean I don't have many in the devildom yet but I'm sure it will be fun." I smile at the idea.

"That sounds wonderful." Diavolo has a strange smile on his face.

His schedule might not allow something like that.

"We can always just have fun together too. Just dancing like this is also very nice." I try to cheer him up.

"Actually, I want to ask you before tomorrow… Do you like the devildom?" It sounds like this question was weighing heavy in his heart. At least his eyes tell me so.

"Of course. I have only seen very little of it, but I love what I have seen so far." To me, it's not even a question, to be honest.

Diavolo seems honestly deeply relieved. "I'm glad." He seems to be holding me a bit closer now. There seems more to his words. Something he isn't saying right now.

I suppose he will tell me soon enough. I fully trust Diavolo. Strangely, I feel like this already. It's not even a week since I know him and yet here I am barely able to imagine my time before I came here.

"What is on your mind?" Diavolo notices my absentminded thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how funny it is that I feel so at ease here even after such a short amount of time." I feel embarrassed about spacing out.

"I see, that is a great thing. You adapted so quickly, it's amazing. You truly are amazing all around." Diavolo has such a kind expression on his face.

"I'm just normal. I think it's all thanks to you and Barbatos." I can't think of anything special that I have done.

"Well, I gladly take the credit if you want to. I think we should stop for today. Tomorrow will be a long day for you." He seems sad to stop.

I feel the same way. As soon as he lets me go, I feel like a great deal of warmth leaves with him.

"You are right. I will just fix something to eat for myself. Do you want something too?" I don't feel like heading to bed without dinner.

"That's such a sweet offer but dinner is already prepared in our rooms tonight. Such a shame really." Diavolo seems to have some regrets about this.

"Oh I see, have a pleasant night Diavolo." I don't manage to fully hide my disappointment.

"Yes, have sweet dreams." There seems to be a flicker of sadness in his eyes too.

We both don't say anything else and go our separate ways.

Dinner feels so lonely tonight that I can't fully enjoy it.

I feel utterly unmotivated tonight and just fall on my bed after changing into my Pajamas.

#demon ruler 101 #obey me fanfiction #How to become a Demon Ruler #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #omswd #obey me #om!#obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all

44 notes · View notes