#Using your Rice Cooker

[reasoningdaily]

Rice Cooker Meals: Fast Home Cooking for Busy People: , or Feed a family quickly for under $10, with less mess to clean & get out the kitchen quicker!

click the title to DOWNLOAD FREE from the BLACK TRUEBRARY

Rice Cooker Meals: Fast Home Cooking for Busy People: , or Feed a family quickly for under $10, with less mess to clean & get out the kitchen quicker!

RICE COOKER MEALS: FAST HOME COOKING FOR BUSY PEOPLE contains 60 quick, easy meals you can make in a rice cooker, most in 30 minutes or less.

click the title to DOWNLOAD FREE from the BLACK TRUEBRARY

Enjoy delicious recipes that are less expensive and healthier than fast food.

One-pot cooking means LESS MESS TO CLEAN UP so you'll be out of the kitchen quicker!

~~ THE RICE COOKER IS NOT JUST FOR RICE ANYMORE!~~ You may say, "But we are meat and potatoes people. We don't eat rice." Not a problem! Most of these recipes don't use rice, anyway, like our Chicken Fajita Stuffed Potato. Most people are astonished to learn how easy it is to cook nutritious meals in a simple rice cooker - meals such as Soups, Seafood, Casseroles, Pastas, Jambalayas, Potatoes and vegetables such as cabbage, yams, etc. "IN A RICE COOKER?" Yes, they're all cooked in a rice cooker. Here are a few recipes from the book: Easy Chili, Mexican Rice, Tex-Mex Pasta,Shrimp Jambalaya, Cabbage Casserole, Cajun Pepper Steak, Chicken Fried Rice, Rice & Shrimp Pilaf, Chicken & Sausage Gumbo, Black-eyed Pea & Sausage Soup, Candied Yams with Marshmallows, Easy Smothered Potatoes & Sausage, and everyone's favorite- Black-eyed Pea & Sausage Jambalaya. RICE COOKER MEALS offers a time-saving alternative to conventional cooking.

With this cookbook you will feed a family of four for under $10, and have leftovers!

Or a college student can eat like a King (or Queen) for an entire week!

Make mouth-watering feasts for your friends in just 30 minutes!

Prepare inexpensive meals for a full week that you can store in your fridge.

~~ A RICE COOKER AS A PORTABLE KITCHEN!~~ You can think of a rice cooker as a portable kitchen. All you need is this cookbook and an electrical outlet. This opens up a whole new way of thinking about cooking. Cook a meal practically anywhere!

Bring it to work and set it up in the break room, on a spare desk, or the office kitchen.

Bring it to the party, tailgating, church or social gathering you're going to and impress your friends with the tasty meal or appetizer you have prepared.

Provides fast, healthy meals for college students living in dorms or apartments.

Bring it along on RV or camping trips.

Remodeling your kitchen? Just moved in? Kitchen appliances not working? Use a rice cooker!

Great for military barracks and other places where an open flame is prohibited!

Power outage? A hurricane, blizzard or other calamity is messing up your day? Have a generator? Have a long extension cord? Just plug in your rice cooker, eat and enjoy! Make this part of your Emergency Preparedness Plans.

Inexpensive - the Blackeyed Pea & Sausage Jambalaya recipe uses inexpensive ingredients and makes a huge pot full!

No need to heat up the kitchen with all the stove burners on. Just one rice pot plugged in, and it doesn't even have to be in the kitchen. Anywhere there is an electric outlet will do fine.

Children are using our cookbook recipes to win 4-H cooking contests!

It's great for retirees or empty-nesters who only want to cook a meal for two.

It's spontaneous - if guests drop by unexpectedly, throw a meal together quickly, so little or no planning is necessary.

No need to stock exotic ingredients. Use ingredients you already have in your pantry, cupboard, refrigerator or freezer.

The cookbook also has two indexes so the recipes are easier to find: indexed by chapter and indexed in alphabetical order.

It has numerous testimonials from good cooks affiliated with the LSU AgCenter Homemaker Clubs. They tested the recipes and gave their honest opinions.

It includes short articles about time-saving tips on food preparation, how a rice cooker knows when the food is cooked, how to teach children to safely cook with a rice cooker, how to brown meat in a rice cooker, plus many more.

click the title to DOWNLOAD FREE from the BLACK TRUEBRARY

[oporotheca]

The Sweetest Struggle

synopsis: up early with your toddler, Satoru endures the sweet struggle of letting you sleep in a little longer - much to his daughter's chagrin.

tags: MDNI, pure domestic bliss, fluff, satoru gojo loooves his wife and daughter, no plot just fluff <3

6:00 a.m. in the Gojo household, and despite the fact that the sun was only just barely winking upon the horizon, two voices could be heard above the slowly awakening crickets and early birds.

Uncoordinated clapping - palms only just barely meeting and with scarcely any force behind them - accompanied whispered words, stifled yawns, and breathless chuckles.

"Oh, c'mon, princess... you're just handing the applause out now, I didn't even do anything."

Satoru complained softly down to the child in his arms - his daughter, just shy of a year old - making no effort to hold back the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

In response, she babbled happily, complete nonsense spilling from her lips as she squirmed with delight, gazing up at her father with wide, shining eyes - as if he had hung the moon and stars just for her.

He adored that look, not just because it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world, but because he was certain, beyond even a shadow of a doubt, that she had learned it from the way he looked at you.

And speaking of you -

"Mamamamama..."

The little one droned on, her baby babbles fading into that familiar word she was so very fond of using. Satoru couldn't really blame her though; not with the way your whole face lit up whenever you heard it. If he were in possession of such a power, he was certain he'd abuse it too.

"Yeah, yeah..."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pinched at his daughter's soft, sleep-warmed cheek, trying to draw her attention away from the brief glimpse she had gotten of you still fast asleep in bed as he'd quietly shut the door on his way past after scooping her from her crib.

"Let my wife sleep, you precious little leech."

His tone was pure adoration even if his words teased.

After all, he'd be lying if he said he didn't get where his little girl was coming from.

The sight of you in bed that morning, all wrapped up in the thin covers you'd only recently swapped the winter set out for, hair mussed and expression oh so peaceful, had made it almost impossible to leave once he'd heard the telltale sound of shuffling coming from the monitor he'd moved from your bedside table to his the night before.

His baby girl was an early riser, after all, always up at the crack of dawn, bright-eyed and ready to go... much to her parents' exhaustion...

But there was no way he’d let you be the one to get up with her again for the sixth time that week — not after all those mornings he’d missed, slipping out to work before the sun had even shown its face.

Not to mention how small you’d looked in that big bed of yours, the one meant for two...

Yeah. He really couldn’t blame his daughter.

In fact, he probably wanted to wake you up even more than she did - he just had more self control...

Marginally.

"C'mon sweetheart."

He murmured, adjusting the 11-month-old on his hip as he started to prepare breakfast for her, eggs already out and on the counter, rice cooker humming beside them, and pan warming up on the stove.

"Lets make you something to eat, hmm? We can go see Mama after."

And when he looked down to check his little girl's reaction, only to be greeted by the sight of her adorable smile - the one she had inherited from you - he felt his heart swell with adoration.

So, if he just so happened to wake you up a little bit earlier than he'd planned...

Well, who could blame him?

After all, the little girl on his hip was far too persuasive to resist.

[shokopan]

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER . T. FUSHIGURO

“smells good,” a deep voice suddenly breaks the silence, startling you as you involuntarily lurch forward a little and lose your balance.

“woah, steady steady,” toji plants his hands securely around your hips, “i got you, don’t worry,”

“i can never get over how easily you sneak up on me like that,” you sigh, twisting your torso to face the stove before dipping a spoon into the pot of soup and cupping your hand beneath as you bring it over to toji’s mouth, “taste please! but careful, it’s hot,”

“could’ve warned me earlier,” toji grumbles, fanning his searing tongue as he pivots your body back to the stove and wraps his arms around your waist to hug you from behind, “if anything i’d think you were trying to kill me,”

“please,” you roll your eyes, “you’d already be dead if that’s what i was trying to do,”

“shit, you’re right. i’d probably walk into any trap of yours. think i’d do it gladly too,” toji chuckles, “soup’s really good by the way,”

“yeah?” you smile, craning your head to face toji as you comb his messy black hair away from his eyes, “so good that you’d eat it even if i poisoned it?”

“told you already, any trap you set up i’d fall into,” toji shrugs.

“wait, like, knowingly?” you question, peering up at him curiously as he looks away, remaining silent, “oohh, you would, got it!”

“just don’t take advantage of me,” toji grumbles, turning back to face you as his eyes bore into yours, “you’re too good to ever do that anyways,”

“i won’t, promise,” you grin, craning your neck up to kiss his cheek, “now get us rice, please?”

“you got it,” toji nods, letting go of you, as he walks over to the rice cooker at the other end of the kitchen, “don’t add shit to the food while i’m not looking!”

“adding cyanide right now!” you laugh, wheezing a little when toji storms over and nearly tackles you into a close embrace, “kidding, kidding! just adding some pepper you big lug,”

“you’re killing me,” toji groans.

“i love you too,” you beam innocently, pressing another kiss onto his cheek, “now say it back please,”

“damn right i love you too,” toji nods, hands moving back to your waist as he tugs you close and kisses your lips, “love you too much for my own damn good,”

[endosexual]

Ik im uncultured etc but i think i finally figured rice out 😭

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[joyceisfox]

Forever Autumn Part 2

🍂Hello!! hope you guys everything is well:)

🍂My first kitchen cabinet set is here, there are many colors for you to choose, and there are also have new rice cookers and kettles, If you have For Rent expansion pack, you can use it. If not, it can only be used as a decoration.

🍂Next month is still the Forever Autumn collection, and I will do some interior decoration for the upcoming New Year.

✨any way, hope you will like it!

✨Best wish ♥ Joyce

new 20 items

Base Game

For Rent（ Kettle & Rice Cooker ）

----------------✂︎----------------

Download (Patreon)

public on January 15th, 2024

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TOU:

Please do not claim as your own.

请勿声称创作者是你自己

Please do not re-upload.

请勿重新上传

Please do not re-edit.

请勿重新编辑我的网格

[heartfullofleeches]

Wish Granter Yan who has their snobby heart that despises humans for their greed stolen by a lower income Darling who still feels bad about taking things from others after all the hand outs they've been given over the years-

This is very on brand for Beau, my asshole-ish Unicorn Yan.

-

"Human...What is your first wish?"

Darling: u-um....Well, the light in my rice cooker went out the other night..It's kinda hard to tell when my rice is done because of that.... Could you fix it?

"A light? You aren't even going to wish for a new one? With my powers you could have endless fills of rice for the rest of your days."

Darling: Haha... That's way too much rice for me... Maybe my neighbors need some...

-

"Human- What would you like for dinner?"

Darling: Ah- Don't worry about me... I've still got some ramen in the pantry. I've still got some eggs in the fridge for protein!

"Instant noodles again? Would you prefer a nice steak? Seafood? Anything? A simple burger?"

Darling, visibly stressed: You don't have to do all that for me... S-some ham to go with my ramen, maybe?"

-

"This human....Is there something wrong with them? Why are they allowing me to live freely in their home without me having granting any of their desires? Why do I dread returning to my own home?...."

Darling: I-it's been really nice to have a guest over. It's given me a chance to try out this air mattress I got at a yard sale last week.... Is my bed comfortable enough for you?'

"You won't fool me with your tricks, human-"

-

Darling: What should I have for dinner tonight.... Wha- Hey!

[The unicorn picks Reader up and places them outside of the kitchen - tying an apron around their waist as they march over to the stove]

"If you will not use my magic, then I must take your nutrition into my own hands. Even I know humans cannot survive alone on starches and junk food."

[greeniegaes]

SQH and all of his meals in the modern age are made in the rice cooker. Like, yea, rice. But he’ll put a steamer basket on it and make dumplings. Make a boiled egg for breakfast.

Eventually he finds this guy online who looks drop dead gorgeous and he teaches people other stuff to make in rice cookers. Everything from cheesecake to curries to yoghurt. The dude is insanely good with the thing, and SQH is smitten with this one dish wonder guy.

Eventually he goes on social media and the first thing he found after making his noodles was that his favorite foodie died from food poisoning.

He accidentally also died after spilling his food.

Eventually after his transmigration he hears about this wondering cultivator who has this mysterious creation he made. So obviously SQH has to see it

SQH: “is that a rice cooker.”

SY: “…perhaps.”

SQH: “bro I missed those so much they are so useful

SY just kinda nods his head, no clue who this guy is and cautiously eating his yoghurt.

SQH: “ugh there was this really pretty food guy who used them for one pot meals. He died eating yoghurt and I can’t stomach the stuff anymore”

SY: “oh yea, that was me”

SQH:?!?

Like imagine realizing your fave online pretty boy foodie read your twenty million words of bad smut. Rest in peace SQH’s pride

[horatiocomehome]

My family are white american and like. half the meals we make are some kind of rice dish. Especially now that I moved out on my own it's so easy to just make some rice and whip up some kind of sauce. Rice is the best it is so good and convenient.

None of the recipes are really american cuisine they're more taken / modified from other cultures but. that's not gonna stop me. yum yum rice my beloved

why are americans the only people who dont eat rice. why does everyone else eat rice why are we riceless it seems like a very very good food

[espytalks]

god bless the bread maker machine mom and i found at a thrift store two years ago; it's been so frickin handy, and you bet something like that nets ya at least a hundred bucks brand new, and we got it for super cheep.

heck, bless thrift store appliances in general. bread machines, rice cookers, pasta rollers, apple corers, ect. Those little gadgets that cost up to hundreds of dollars, marked down for a fraction of the price, because someone doesn't need them anymore. I hope their new owners appreciate how lucky they are.

[baepsays]

Hi there!!! I absolutely love your Cat-Satoru series (and literally all of your other works too) and I was wondering if we could get a oneshot where Suguru and reader get into a fight so reader doesn’t come around for a while and cat Satoru gets really sad and misses them until they make up?

hi bb thank you sm <3 oh I am loving writing silly stuff about them hehehe I'll try to reflect your vision through my words best to my abilities ^^

Suguru hates fighting with you. Because he knows how petty you are, and how much pettier you can get. Unfortunately for the both of you, he is no less petty.

He holds grudges like he holds a mean grip on your waist in crowded places. So what happens is that poor Satoru gets caught in the crossfire. And the poor thing never understands, despite amazing comprehension of human language, why are you two even fighting in the first place?

If you asked Satoru whether fighting over bedsheets was a valid reason or not, he'd say a big—"MEOW!"

‘NO WAY!’

I mean that day when he woke up under his favourite coffee table, after an amazing nap, to you and Suguru shouting at each other, he just sat between you two with his head tilted and nose twitching.

"YOU CANNOT JUST KEEP USING THESE BLACK SHEETS! I WANT SOME COLOR! AND SILK IN SUMMER IS THE WORST!" You pointed at the bunched up black and shiny sheets on the bed.

"YOU CANNOT JUST CHANGE THEM WITHOUT ASKING ME?" There was a pile of pink cotton sheets right beside the black silken ones.

"Oh. So now I have to ask you before doing you a favour and changing your sheets to better ones?" Sure your voice lowered, but that did not mean you were feeling any more clam than before.

"This is my bed. So yes. You should've asked." Suguru stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. Alright then, sleep well on your sheets all by yourself." And that was all you said before you headed towards the door with your bag in your hands, with no intention of coming back for at least a few weeks.

What pissed you off more and made that week turn into two weeks, was when Suguru yelled from behind you, "YES I WILL!"

And all that was left in Suguru's apartment was his black silk sheets, your scattered belongings, the beeping noise of the rice cooker, and a very disappointed Satoru who could not run fast enough behind you.

The first few days, Satoru was hopeful you'll drop by at least to see him, but he spent three days by the large windows in the living room, and the bedroom balcony, to realize you're not dropping by anytime soon. And like that almost two weeks were about to pass.

And rolling around in your clothes, or pillows was not working for neither Satoru nor Suguru.

"Meowwwww." Satoru butted his head to Suguru's, who spent his weekend lying on the couch, eating barely anything, and smoking more than what he usually does. Work on Monday was equally shitty, teaching kids suddenly became headache inducing.

"What do you want, Satoru?" Suguru grumbled and changed the show playing on his tv.

"Meowwwww meowmeow." If someone looked close enough, it almost looked like this white fluffy ball of meows was pouting.

Suguru sighed in response, as he has been for the past week, to Satoru's howling meows, and tantrums. "She won't just show up if you meow enough to make my ears bleed."

"MEOW! Meow meowmeow!" Satoru was truly a cat of many abilities, because why is giving relationship advice to his hopeless owner? 'CALL HER! Just call you dumbass!'

"Yeah well she is not responding to me." Suguru changed to another show.

"MEOW! Meow, meow meowmeow." Which translated to something like, 'YEAH DUH! Go over to where she is hiding.'

"Please Satoru. Just go to bed to wait by the window like you always do or something, I'm on the verge of losing it." He just turned the tv off, and laid flat on his stomach, face smooshed in the couch cushions, and ignored Satoru.

"Meow." Satoru jumped off the couch and walked away from Suguru's pity party. 'Hopeless.'

He walked with intention, to find Suguru's phone. Which was charging on his nightstand. Satoru maneuvered carefully from the floor to bed, then bed to the nightstand, tapping his paw all over the phone.

He had no clue what he was doing, all he knew was that sometimes when you were away for work or anything, Suguru would hold the strange box near Satoru and you'd talk through it. And he desperately needed to hear your voice right now, and also convince you to come back.

Somehow Satoru managed to call Suguru's emergency contact, which fortunately happened to be you.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-

"Hello?" Your voice sounded groggy from the other side, Satoru was not sure whether it was because you cried like you do while watching sad movies, or like when you played the strays with him and then cried while hugging him. Or that you were just sleepy.

"MEOW!"

"Satoru?"

"MEOW! MEOWMEOWMWOW MEOW!"

"Is everything alright? Where is Suguru? Did you call me by yourself?" You were starting to feel worry creeping into your chest.

"MEOWWWW MEOW." Satoru at this point, what sounded like, was basically crying.

"Are you two ok?" You immediately got off your bed, and reached for your pants and jacket.

"MEOWWWWW! MEOWWWW." Satoru did not mean to worry you, but if his meows were about to get you back here, then sure.

"I'LL BE THERE IN 15 MINS!" And with that you hung up the phone, to grab your keys, then drove down to Satoru and Suguru's place.

When you haphazardly got to Suguru's door, to open it with the key he gave to you—Satoru was sitting there, in front of the door, waiting patiently for you to arrive. As if he understood your panicky scramble, when you told him you'd be there in 15 mins. 

“Meow! Meow!” He quickly tangled himself in your legs, as you stepped out of your shoes. 

“Hi Toru, how have you been?” You crouched down to pick up the cat in your arms, which he gladly obliged. No place better than your arms. 

He felt just a bit more thinner, his fur felt rougher than usual, and the way he was nuzzling and purring in the crook of your neck, it was clear how much your presence was missed. You did not mean to ignore Satoru in the midst of your fight with Suguru, but your pride held you back from opening the front door with the key you were given. Even when you made it that far, you just could not step in. 

Upon walking into the living room, you saw Suguru lying on the couch. His clothes, and hair looked disheveled. There were visible bags under his eyes. And now you could match the pleading tone in his texts, that he's been sending for the last few days, ro his pitiful state.

You cleaned up the living room, turned the tv off, gave Satoru somlove and treats. And went to the bedroom to grab a blanket for Suguru, where you found his bed which was not made, and was decorated with the cotton sheets that started this entire thing. 

So you cleaned up the bed, grabbed a blanket for yourself and Suguru, and fluffy enough for Satoru to sleep on as well—and headed to the couch.

In the morning when Suguru woke up, to Satoru’s butt and tail in his face, he was ready to kick the poor kitty out of his house, when he felt arms tightening around him. He found your face shoved into his chest, holding him tightly, legs tangled up with his, and Satoru’s head resting on yours. 

“You're gonna keep staring?” Your voice rumbled through his chest, as you asked him the question without looking at him. It took him some time to gather the courage to speak to you.

“I am so sorry baby.” His arms tightened around you, and he rolled over to have you lie on top of him, as he nuzzled his face in the crown of your head.

“I know. I am sorry too.” 

“You don't need to be. I was way out of line.” You just needed to understand where he was coming from, Geto Suguru does not function as a unit, but he is learning. He learned how to have Satoru in his life, and he's now learning how to have you in his life. 

“Meowwww.” The moment was broken by a hungry cat’s whining, who required food and your attention. So Suguru once again faced Satoru’s fluffy butt, and tail that made his nose itchy.

“SATORU, I AM SO CLOSE TO LOCKING YOU OUT IN THE BALCONY!” Suguru screamed at him, and went to grab him. But alas, couldn't match Satoru's agile, feline movements.

“Meowmeow meowwww.” And it made you realize just how much more you kissed these two than what you thought. As you sat on the couch, watching Suguru run after Satoru.

‘Catch me if you can, loser.’

ADVENTURES OF CATORU & SUGURU.

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a. not proof read.

[honeytonedhottie]

DIY beauty⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍯

this is a big post of some of my favorite beauty recipes and things that i can do at home for myself and my beauty routines and regimens…💬🎀

AT HOME FACIALS ;

♡ step one - cleanse with ur water based cleanser

♡ step two - steam ur face using a bowl and towel

♡ step three - use a facial scrub that isnt too abrasive

♡ step four - use a cleansing mask

♡ step five - use ur toner

♡ step six - make sure to moisturize always

doing this routine helps my skin to feel rejuvenated and healthy. steaming ur face opens up ur pores and helps to free sebum which in turn stops pimples from forming…💬🎀

BATH MILK ;

♡ 2 cups of milk

♡ 1 tbsp of vanilla

♡ 2 tbsp of cinnamon

bath milk is rly good if u have dry skin because its a way to hydrate and moisturize your skin. milk contains fats and proteins that can help to replenish your skin's natural moisture…💬🎀

♡ 1/2 cup of honey

♡ 5 tbs olive/almond oil

♡ 3 cups of milk

SUGAR LIP SCRUB ;

♡ mix in some vaseline and sugar (if u wanna be extra u can add some cayenne for a plumping effect OR olive oil for extra hydration)

doing a lip scrub every now and then helps to remove dead skin from ur lips and keep them soft and super adorable. i also recommend brushing ur lips every now and then and making sure to use a moisturizing lip balm…💬🎀

RICE FACE MASK ;

♡ add one cup of rice and rinse the rice 2-3 times

♡ use 1/4 cup of rice and 1 cup of water and put it into ur rice cooker/boil over ur stovetop

♡ once the rice is soft, pour it into ur blender till it becomes smooth

♡ make sure to let it cool down before you use it

the mask will last up to a week if stored in the fridge. rice is known to brighten the skin, shrink pores, and prevent premature aging with its antioxidants. it also helps protect the skin barrier and calms irritated skin…💬🎀

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[arget-star]

I've Got All These Sparrin' Scars

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

Summary: A companion piece to this, wherein Sakura celebrates White Day with you.

tags: fluff, canon-typical violence (there's a brief fight scene), not beta read. a creep hits on reader so terms like "pretty girl" and "baby" are used

a/n: once again i bring you a fic that is far longer than i ever meant for it to be. perhaps the ending is a bit rushed but that's okay we cringe on :)

wc: 4k (.........don't look at me.)

Thanks to Nirei’s tireless efforts, the former members of Furin Class 1-1 gather once a month for a casual dinner at Pothos. While not everyone is available, a sizable crowd still descends upon the café with all the enthusiasm (and appetite) they had in their high school days.

It’s a lovely tradition; one Sakura looks forward to, even if he won’t outright say as much. He’ll grumble and pout when he receives the text announcing their next dinner. Yet he always leaves early, hands shoved into his pants pockets and something close to excitement tucked in the corners of his mouth.

You kiss him farewell at the door. Tug at the lapels of his jacket so it lays just so while he watches you, expression soft. “Have fun,” you tell him, releasing your hold. He blows air out of his nose on instinct.

“Saw half these guys today already.”

“Now you’re going to see the other half. Bring me pack some pudding, please?”

He appreciates the way you at least acknowledge his complaints, unlike his friends whose tendency to completely ignore them has never gone away. You make him feel heard. (They do, too, but differently. Theirs is a language of unspoken understanding and fistfights.)

“S’long as I get the cherry,” he says, walking down the front steps. “…be home soon.”

You laugh softly, lifting your hand in a wave. His goodbyes are always so stilted. Unsure. Like that scared little boy who still lives inside his head expects you to be gone by the time he returns. You hope, one day, he’ll be able to reassure that little boy. “Tell everyone I said hi!”

Sakura—about to turn the corner—looks back at you. “Any other demands?” There’s no bite in the words, only fond resignation.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

You’d bet money his flush lasts all the way to Pothos.

���───✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

With Sakura gone, and no pressing responsibilities demanding your attention, you spend the evening relaxing. You’re diligently not thinking about floral arrangements or what injuries Sakura will incur while on patrol. Work is most certainly a tomorrow problem, and your boyfriend is simply out enjoying a nice dinner with his friends.

Well. There’s still a thirty percent chance he will, inevitably, be sporting a bruise or two by the end of the night.

Time passes slowly but pleasantly. You make dinner—a simple rice cooker stir fry and accompanying teriyaki sauce. You throw plenty of vegetables into the dish despite someone’s disdainful scoff echoing in your ears. It’s a personal goal of yours to get him to eat one singular piece of, say, broccoli without him silently removing it from his meal.

Once dinner’s finished, you set up your laptop on the low table so you can rewatch an episode or two of your favorite show while curled on the couch. Neither you nor Sakura have expressed any interest in purchasing a television. Your computer works perfectly fine whenever you two settle in for movie night.

(“If we did get a tv,” Sakura explained one evening, fingers loosely entwined with yours, “then everyone would insist on havin’ video game night here.”

You squeezed his hand. Sakura’s video game skills had improved, but not by much. He’d never stand for being humiliated in his own home. “I don’t really watch a lot of shows, anyway.”)

Through with both dinner and your show, you languidly rise from the couch, arms reaching above your head. You don’t expect Sakura for another couple hours, barring any mishaps. So you turn on some music, something mellow and soft, humming along with the melody as you clean the kitchen.

Minimal chores now done, you begin your bedtime routine. You shower. Wash your face and brush your teeth, basking in the simple pleasure of enjoying a cozy night alone.

Sakura returns while you’re in the middle of blow drying your hair. You don’t hear him come in over the noise; just see his shadow playing against the walls, a flash of white hair out of the corner of your eye. He treads softly, deliberately, like he never wants to take up more space than necessary. You thumb the blow dryer’s switch, flicking it off, then set it on the counter.

“Welcome home,” you call, padding into the small kitchen. Plastic rustles. Sakura’s in front of the fridge, placing something inside. His shoulders stiffen, then relax.

“…ate the cherry on the way home,” he returns, pivoting around. (Bruise free, your brain helpfully supplies.) The fridge door thumps closed behind him.

You laugh quietly, the sound tapering off once you catch the slight pout of his lips, how his expression seems a little distant. He distracted; otherwise, he’d comment on the fact you’re wearing his shirt. Quiet momentarily seeps in. You give yourself a mental shake and brush past him, heading for the cutlery drawer.

Utensils rattle. “How was everyone?” You ask lightly, grabbing two spoons.

“Fine.”

He scratches at his nape. You maneuver around him, reopening the fridge to claim your pudding. They asked too many personal questions, you think, undoing Kotoha’s careful wrapping of the to-go bag. “Mm. Is Kiryu-kun still begging you to come in for a haircut?”

“Don’t trust him near my head with scissors,” Sakura replies, hand dropping from his neck. He absently swipes one of the spoons. “Bunch of annoyin’ jerks.”

You nod. Pick up your own spoon and dig happily into the dessert. “Yeah? What did they do this time?”

His white eyebrow twitches. He forcefully cuts into the pudding’s opposite side, cheeks tingeing light pink. “N-nothin’! Just bein’ nosey!” They’re annoying because they care. Hell, he wouldn’t have survived high school without their obnoxious, nosey asses. But did they have to carry all that over into your relationship?

He’ll be grateful for it once he’s done being irritated.

There it is. Licking a smear of whipped cream off your lips, you tilt your head. Something prickles the back of your thoughts, a realization you haven’t quite reached. “So the usual, then.” You scoop up another bite. “Thank you for bringing this, by the way.”

The sudden shift in topic pulls him from whatever thoughts he’s currently turning over and over in his head. Sakura’s attention snaps into focus, like he’s finally seeing you for the first time since he arrived home. His eyes widen, then narrow.

“Is that my shirt?!”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Two days later, that almost-epiphany finally strikes. White Day is next week.

Of course Sakura’s friends would bombard him with questions about his plans. Small wonder he was so pensive that night. You don’t mention it—the holiday is holding less and less sway every passing year, anyway.

Sakura gives no indication he’s thinking about the matter further, either.

You’re content with treating White Day as a normal, run of the mill weekday. So when the expected morning does roll around, you make breakfast and get ready for work and ask him about yesterday’s patrol and completely ignore any extra significance about it.

You forget, that sometimes, Sakura can be quite sneaky.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

A small bouquet of white roses sits atop your work table. It certainly wasn’t there when you left last night. Perhaps Mariko-san received a rush order after you left? Or she was working on a new window display and set it aside for your opinion? You slip your apron over your head, absently reaching behind you to tie the strings as you step closer. The bouquet is small, beautifully arranged, interspersed with sprigs of blue baby’s breath.

Apron tied, you reach a hand out, fingertips brushing against impossibly soft petals.

There’s a ribbon wound around the cylindrical glass vase, its shade of blue almost matching the baby’s breath. Your favorite shade of blue, you realize belatedly, mere curiosity now bleeding into confusion. A tiny flutter of hope stirs in your chest. No card nestles among the flowers, no tag hangs from the expertly tied bow, and yet, you wonder.

Footsteps sound behind you. They slow, coming to a stop once Mariko-san stands beside you. “Good morning!” The old woman beams, as chipper as ever. You don’t have time to murmur a reply before she speaks again. Honestly, you can only admire her seemingly endless reserves of energy. “I see you discovered your gift. That Sakura of yours is quite a sweet boy, isn’t he?”

You hum in agreement, your small kernel of hope now transformed into delight. A smile grows along your lips. Fingertips again gently caress the rose petals, then skim lightly along the baby’s breath delicate blossoms. They shiver underneath your touch.

Gifts were not high on your list of expectations for today. You knew better than to hold Sakura to so-called normal expectations. That’s no fault of is, nor do you mean to sound cruel. He had no opportunity to learn those expectations beyond watching every day interactions from the sidelines, and you wonder how much of that observation was meant as a survival skill instead of mirroring peer behavior.

“—knew your favorite color without hesitation, too. Wasn’t easy keeping this a secret from you.”

Mariko’s voice filters back into your thoughts. You lower your hand from the petals. “When did he come in?”

The old woman pauses. Purses her lips in thought. “Last Thursday. Poor boy was here after dawn. Looked like he hadn’t slept all night!”

No, he hasn’t been sleeping much these past couple weeks. Just as Valentine’s Day inspires increased foot traffic around Keisei Street, so does White Day. Sakura, thankfully, hasn’t come home with anything worse than skinned knuckles; the exhaustion is getting to him now, and he’s often just waking up by the time you return to the apartment for dinner.

You remember last Thursday, specifically because he wasn’t asleep beside you when you awoke. Occasionally, he does stay out until the blush of dawn turns golden with sunlight, cleaning up ruined property from particularly nasty fights or enjoying a free cup of coffee from a grateful patron. So while your levels of worry didn’t rise from their usual baseline, it did strike you as unusual.

He’d come home some twenty minutes later, yawning, suit jacket slung over one arm, tie loosened, acting perfectly normal. Just like that, your concern had faded.

Now, warmth continues to spread underneath your skin. “Sneaky,” you say, then lean over the roses, inhaling their soft, sweet scent. Baby’s breath tickles your cheeks.

You imagine Sakura, standing in the middle of the shop, wildly out of his depth, hands shoved in his pockets while frowning at the variety of flowers on display. You laugh quietly into the roses. Your Sakura indeed.

After another inhale, you lift your head, facing Mariko. “Thank you, Mariko-san.”

Her face wrinkles as she laughs. “For you, my dear, anything.” She pats your shoulder once before shuffling off to the front of the store.

You reach into your apron pocket and remove your phone. The first picture is just for you; a memory caught in pixelated amber. For the subsequent photos, you adjust the angle, scoot the vase a little closer, mess with the lighting. The camera shutter flickers in rapid succession.

A bell chimes faintly, followed by Mariko-san’s voice. A customer, presumably, rumbles a reply. You analyze the handful of pictures now in your camera roll, deciding on one where a shaft of sunlight makes the petals glow.

You send that one to Sakura, simply captioned, ‘they’re beautiful. thank you <3’

Phone set aside, you consider the bouquet one final time as more voices echo just beyond the curtain separating you from view. One rose near the center calls out to you; wiggling it free, you twirl it between two fingers, then deftly snap the stem down to about two inches or so. You tuck the flower behind your ear.

You’re slipping your phone back into the apron pocket when it buzzes. Already grinning, you tilt the device up. Welcome.

Perhaps today is a little magical, after all.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

”Why’s there a flower in your hair?” Sakura asks, busying himself with taking the bouquet off your hands while you remove your shoes in the genkan.

You hadn’t expected to find him still at home this evening; another pleasant surprise on top of the flowers. “Good evening to you, too,” you tease, placing your shoes neatly next to his sneakers. “It was festive for the day. And I felt pretty, especially knowing it was a flower you got me.”

He nearly trips on his way to the kitchen, shoulders rising up to his ears. “Yer always pretty!”

Warmth spreads across your face, down into your chest. Compliments are not rare, but they are precious, jewels in a treasure chest. Sakura gives them when he means them, not as empty, pithy phrases out of mere obligation. “Thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen, lightly touching two fingers to the rose behind your ear. The outermost petals wilted throughout the day, curling inwards as brown creeps along their edges. “Wait. Don’t you have patrol tonight?���

He’s so, so gentle when he places the bouquet atop the counter. “Asked Nakamura if I could join patrol later.” His back is still facing you. “Thought we could go out to dinner.”

Oh. Your heart stutters, that warm feeling returning tenfold. He’s deceptively good at planning dates. Always thinks two steps ahead, agonizing over the details, only to shyly ask without quite looking over his shoulder. You’ve not yet figured out where the threads of his awkwardness about romance and fear of mockery intersect. All you can do, for now, is fray their edges day by loving day.

“Give me ten minutes to change, okay?” You dart beside him and plant a quick kiss against his cheek.

Before you can pull away, he wraps a hand around your wrist, fingers loose enough that you could break free if you wanted. His touch is warm.

“Keep the flower in your hair. Please.”

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. “I will.”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

“Come on, pretty girl! Have a drink with us!” The tallest one in the assembled group of men—clearly their leader—cajoles. His leer is all teeth. A chip mars his top left incisor in a way that could be charming were he not a total creep. Snickers echo from his cronies.

You glance between them and Chipped Tooth, hands instinctively rising to about chest level, prepared to push him away or wriggle out of his hold should he try anything. He looks mere seconds away from reaching for you. “Not interested,” you snap back, tamping down the nerves churning in your stomach.

Chipped Tooth scoffs. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby! We’re upstandin’ gentleman. We can’t let a cute thing like you spend a holiday alone.”

Sweat turns your palms clammy. You risk a glance behind you, finding nothing but the closed door of the restaurant.

It’s a cute, hole in the wall ramen shop, the kind you’d walk right past if not for the enticing smells of miso broth and pork. On your walk over, Sakura had explained he only discovered the place because he’d saved the owner’s son from becoming caught in some low-level gang’s rampage. The gang had already destroyed half the street by the time Sakura arrived. The son—brave but lacking skill, according to your boyfriend—bravely tried keeping the shop safe. He earned a black eye for his trouble, but it could have been far worse without intervention.

The owner made a point to come over to your table during dinner, profusely thanking Sakura and making not so subtle comments about how adorable of a couple you and Sakura make. Throughout the entire conversation, all you could think was, he is so cherished.

And right as you’d been about to leave, the son had appeared, asking for advice in the event he’s caught in another fight. You told Sakura you wanted some fresh air; not long after stepping onto the sidewalk, the men had descended like wolves circling prey. Maybe they’re the gang Sakura stopped before.

“I’m out with my boyfriend.”

More snickers. Chipped Tooth makes a show of looking around. “Yeah? Some boyfriend. I’m running out of patience, pretty girl. Let—”

Light spills onto the street. Clanging dishes and low chatter can be heard. An arm extends and you shrink back as a shadow blurs past you.

Sakura flies out of nowhere, outstretched leg connecting with the leader’s chest. He stumbles back; there’s a collective intake of breath from his cronies. Sakura lands between you and the gang. “Stay back,” he orders over his shoulder, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.

He doesn’t wait for a response before diving into the fray. You back up until your shoulders hit the rough brick wall of the building’s facade. You’ve seen plenty of fistfights. Dealt with injuries they cause without thinking too hard about it. But there’s something especially captivating about the way he fights. All confidence and grace and speed, not one movement wasted.

Three men move in to attack. You bite back a cry; it isn’t worth distracting Sakura and re-alerting everyone to your presence. He notices, immediately flipping into a handstand, spinning around in a truly impressive display of core and upper body strength. His kicks land, hard. Someone’s nose cracks.

You flinch as the trio falls, stunned and bleeding. Sakura regains his feet. Only four guys remain standing, Chipped Tooth included. “Tsk, I didn’t know she was taken! We coulda solved this like gentleman.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sakura returns. He cracks his neck. “Haven’t I kicked your asses already?”

“Nah. I’d remember a freak like you.”

The insult is weak. Still, you ball your hands into fists, ready to leap in there yourself.

In reply, Sakura runs forward, raised fist aimed for Chipped Tooth, but one of the remaining men steps in, covering for his leader. It’s incredible, how quickly Sakura adjusts in a fight; all that momentum shifts and he jumps, shin connecting directly against the guy’s temple.

He drops like a stone, and Sakura’s already moving on, dispatching the final two idiots before rounding on Chipped Tooth.

But you’ve lost track of the fight. A small, black object had tumbled to the ground in time with your boyfriend’s leap. It bounces along, nearly lost amid the groaning bodies, until it comes to a stop some ten feet away from you.

Tearing your attention away, you find Sakura with a hand curled in Chipped Tooth’s t-shirt, poised for one last strike. Heart pounding, you take a cautious step away from the wall at the same time Sakura speaks.

“Guys like you are pathetic. Bunch’a lame bastards preyin’ on women, then gettin’ pissed when they want nothin’ to do with ya.”

You step over a fallen gang member, then another. You hear rather than see Sakura’s fist make contact with the leader’s nose. He falls, unconscious, as you crouch down, fingers curling around soft velvet. A jewelry box?

“Are you—the hell’re you doin’!?”

Standing, you give an apologetic smile. “I’m fine. You got here before they could do anything.”

He stalks over, all adrenaline and—worry. The genuine concern behind his eyes makes your lips part, prize in your hand momentarily forgotten. “Sakura, I’m okay.”

“Then why’re you kneeling in the middle of these assholes?” Absently, he shakes out his hand, knuckles bloodstained. It’s the only mark on him, and you’re fairly confident that’s not his blood, anyway.

Sakura conducts his own once over, that coiled anxiety loosening when he verifies you’re unharmed. His anger isn’t at you; it’s just, finding you, surrounded by the exact type of men he protects women from night after night…that’s a certain type of fear he hopes he’ll never feel again.

The question goes unanswered. He notices the box. Pats at his pockets, mouth twisting into a grimace even as he flushes scarlet. “That—it ain’t worth you getting hurt for.”

You hold the box out to him. “I didn’t want to risk one of them stealing it.”

He eyes the box. Considers snatching it from your palm and begging you to forget you ever saw it. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and jerks his head to the side. “Don’t open it here.” Sakura pivots on his heel and starts walking.

Nodding, you fall in step beside him, brushing your arm against his. The flush hasn’t faded, and he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. The streetlights highlight the flashing gold of his eye but reveal nothing of his inner thoughts.

It’s not a far walk; just a block down the street, turning a corner until a park bench is revealed. You keep the box clutched to your chest as you sit.

Sakura plops down next to you, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Meant to give it to you before I left for patrol. I know the tradition is usually chocolate or whatever.”

He says it like he doesn’t care if you hate his gift. Like it’s an afterthought. You lower your hand. “May I open it?” It feels important that you ask.

He stares. “Why’re you askin’? Do whatever you want.”

In other circumstances, you’d laugh. He’s putting up that wall you so meticioulslcy wedged yourself through. You don’t want to make him feel like he’s doing something wrong, or all his time and effort has gone unappreciated.

Gently, you pry the lid open, the tiny pop revealing a necklace. The delicate chain ends in a stylized silver branch. Two small leaves grow from it, a cherry blossom sprouting from the branch tip.

*“*Oh, Haruka,” you breathe, running the pad of your thumb along the cool metal. Simple, yet all the more beautiful for it. You look up at him in awe. He’s avoiding eye contact, scarlet to his ears. “This is lovely. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sakura audibly swallows. “You really like it?” The two hours he’d spent browsing at the mall with his friends weren’t totally worthless, then. Relief punches through his chest. He was so scared he’d mess this stupid holiday up and piss you off to the point you’d want to leave.

What a stupid thing to think.

You scoot closer to him. “I promise. Hey.” Your hand alights on his cheek. He finally meets your eyes. “Today was perfect.”

“Do I have to do this shit again next year?”

This time, you do laugh, bright and happy. “No.” You move your hand and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his heated skin. Sakura freezes. You pull away, concerned he may actually pass out from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Will you put the necklace on for me?”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Bonus:

Dinner is well underway when Nirei nudges his best friend. “Sakura-san,” he starts, voice lowered, “what did you get her for White Day?”

Sakura, mouth full of fried onigiri, stares at Nirei, then looks away. His cheeks puff out as he swallows. “…Haven’t gotten anythin’ yet.”

Nirei’s eyes widen. “What? It’s next week! Do you need help shopping?”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Sakura hisses, trying for discretion and failing miserably. He feels more than sees a dozen pairs of eyes slowly find their way to his rapidly heating face. Grains of rice stick uncomfortably in his throat.

Suo gives that infuriating smile of his. “Ah, I see. You have no idea what to purchase”

A fist slams onto the table, rattling the dishware. “S-s-s-shaddup! That ain’t true! And since when were you part of this conversation?!”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“None of your business!”

Nirei places a placating hand on Sakura’s shoulder and shoots Suo a look that says cut it out, please. Kiryu has lowered his phone, a musical chime faintly emanating from whatever game he’s currently hooked on. The dining room has fallen entirely too quiet for Sakura’s liking. Two more seconds and he’s storming out of here, the fact he’s a grown man notwithstanding.

“Hey, Sakura.” Someone pipes up, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Anzai. “When have we ever let you down?”

Sakura opens his mouth to retort, but he finds his anger has melted away, replaced by that weird, pleasantly warm feeling in his chest that only appears when he remembers he’s no longer on his own.

(They all agree to meet at the mall on Saturday, where they spend a solid two hours browsing jewelry stores and debating the significance of bracelets over necklaces. In the end, Sakura purchased the first thing he’d seen that reminded him of you.)

[clockwayswrites]

Minx- Dinner Start

cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors

“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”

Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.

Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”

“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”

“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”

Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”

Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.

“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”

Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”

“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.

“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.

“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.

Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.

Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.

“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.

“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.

Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”

“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”

Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”

“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”

“But you won’t!”

Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”

“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”

Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.

He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.

--- AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.