#but I imagine I could soften that tendency in more casual and/or flustered moments. it’s not like he wouldn’t pick up on modern speech

[edwinisms]

ohhhh how the urge to write fanfic compels me……..but the dread of writing two very distinct english voices with very distinct slang and patterns of speech repels me

[shokugeki-secretsanta]

Blooming

Blooming

Soulmates had always been a lovely concept. Everyone dreamed about meeting their destined one whether they admitted it or not. A soft smile would appear on Megumi’s face as she thought about them like fairy tales, beautiful but distant. She had one too, the tattoo on her bicep assured her of that, but with her young age and chaotic school life, it all seemed so far away. A distant future that could be shoved away as she was bombarded with present worries.

  Soulmates were nothing more than a casual topic to giggle about when too much of the rice wine was passed around in the twilight hours of sleepovers at the Polar Star dorms. But the topic rarely went much deeper with all the students focused on honing their skill rather than affairs of the heart. You could ask 10 different people at any given moment the best way to prepare animal hearts, some preferred skewers and others a slow roast, but human hearts were a mystery. Everyone knew you had to tenderize the organ with enzymes and marinades before consumption but barely anyone knew how to soften the heart of the one they loved.

  The only exception was the first reveal of tattoos as it was the only time the topic was explored. The hum of excitement, the small flicker of hope, and the wonder as you fantasize what your future soulmate would be like in the company of friends. When Yuki saw Megumi’s tattoo she squealed with wide eyes, “Woah! A tiger! So intense compared to our sweet Megumi!” Her arm was adorned with a fierce tiger with flames flickering from its paws and piercing amethyst eyes.

  However, with the upcoming Autumn elections and Megumi’s shift from floundering to flourishing, the subject of soulmates was swept underneath the rug. Her transition from grasping and fraying threads to weaving her own path was exciting but consuming. Megumi was beginning to deepen her expertise and her mind was swimming with skills to polish and recipes to try rather than romance.

              Megumi is surprised to see her name on the board to compete for the upcoming Autumn elections but isn’t when she hears the grumbling of her classmates. Whispers of contempt, snide remarks, and nasty insinuations caused Megumi to freeze. A tiny voice in her head says they’re not wrong. She had been on the verge of expulsion twice in one school term and the mere memory made a shiver go down her spine. An audacious declaration of a purple-haired student unexpectedly broke Megumi out of her reprieve. Megumi sputtered words of thanks.

              She is soon overwhelmed with an assault of questions and is quivering under her classmate, who introduced herself as Miyoko, as she is trapped between the taller student’s arms and body. The barrage soon ends when Megumi brought up Souma.

  “Heh, so you just got helped along by a guy? Sorry I bothered you,” Miyoko stated and left almost as quickly as she came. Megumi wondered why Miyoko seemed upset by the fact. What was wrong with relying on her friends? She thinks of Isshiki’s gentle guidance, Yuki’s beaming smile, Ryoko’s assurance, and Souma’s unwavering confidence in her. They all warmed her heart and gave her the strength to face the upcoming challenges. A text from Yuki saying to meet up at the dorms ends Megumi’s trail of thoughts and interest in Miyoko.

  It’s a strange and new feeling when the Autumn Elections start. A couple months ago Megumi would have been in near tears while fumbling left right and centre. She’s not so confident that her nervousness has disappeared but there’s a certain thrum of excitement and clarity. The murmurs of the crowd, the gaze of the judges, they all existed but they’re fuzzy in comparison to her dish at hand. Though accidentally allowing the monkfish to roll away was not exactly her finest work. She thinks of a dear friend for good luck then butchers the monkfish with a flourish that demonstrates the years of practice that went into the skill.

  Megumi was in for two surprises that day. One is making it past the preliminaries despite the tough competition. Of course, it was something Megumi had hoped for, but she was reluctant to let that small sprout overtake her lest disappointment consumed it. Now though, her hope had bloomed into a shy but beautiful bluebell in her heart. The other surprise caught her completely off guard. Miyoko had somehow managed to apologize to her in a sincere yet chic and cool way. With the promise of support and future help, Megumi barely remembered her manners and spewed words of gratitude quickly. The encounter flustered her slightly but brought a grin to her visage. Seeds of carnations are sown in her heart without Megumi noticing. Years pass before they bloom in full force.

  After holding her breath for what felt like an eternity of fighting in both central and blue, Megumi enjoyed getting to simply breathe freely. Her classmates shared a similar sentiment as Megumi discussed with Hisako the benefits of different dried vegetables and herbs over tea and sweets. She had made mochi donuts glazed with basil blueberry sauce to match the soothing tea Hisako had prepared.

  “Erina will be joining us in a bit, she’s held up at a meeting,” Hisako informed her while sitting down. She gracefully lifted the teacup to her lips and allowed the drink to soothe her strained body. However, it wasn’t until Hisako sunk her teeth into the treat and the tension from her shoulder was relieved did Megumi smile.

  “Your food is as comforting as ever,” Hisako complimented but auburn eyes did not meet Megumi’s citrine pair as hers were on Hisako’s soulmate tattoo. Between Hisako’s collar bones was a sophisticated golden crown adorned with diamonds.

  “Thinking about your soulmate?” Hisako guessed.

  “Oh! No, well, I mean a little, I guess. But! Mostly about how you and Erina are such a nice fit,” Megumi sputtered. The vegetable chef was many things but apparently furtive was not one of them. Gathering her courage, Megumi inquired, “How did you know?”

  Hisako mused for a couple moments before answering, “I suppose I always knew but it took a long time for me to admit it. Erina has a regal air, that has always stayed constant, but,” Hisako trailed off reflecting on the past. Megumi silently waited with rapt attention.

              “I had put Erina on a pedestal, constantly insisting on calling her Erina-sama, and, in a way, created a distance between us. But when I finally decided to walk beside her instead of behind her,” a smile crept onto Hisako’s face that she couldn’t fight off even if she wanted to, “I knew we were meant to be. Even without a tattoo, I’d be certain that we were soulmates.”

              A small gasp left Megumi’s lips at the bold proclamation. It soon turned into a cute giggle. Hisako raised her eyebrow, but the smile never left her face. “Oh, that’s so sweet! A soulmate story just like those in a fairy tale,” Megumi commented with an amiable grin which radiated with sincerity.

              “Perhaps,” Hisako reflected, “But I think you also bring out the sweet side in others.” Megumi’s eyes widen and she flushes at the statement. Hisako never minces words to appease others and speaks what she believes to be true. A compliment from her is a treasure to Megumi. The moment passed as Erina arrived, her presence grabbing both girls’ attention.

              “Sorry for being late,” Erina apologized quickly.

              “Don’t be, I already explained it to Tadokoro-san,” Hisako responded.

              “Let us know if there’s any way we can help out,” Megumi added. Erina was always a busy bee but being a third year had only increased her schedule with ample paperwork and meetings.

              “No, no, these people just dragged on the meeting unnecessarily, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” Erina insisted as she sat down, “Forget about that meeting, I heard something about soulmates?” Now that Hisako had happily accepted their soulmate bond, Erina never shied away from the topic. Megumi remembered meeting during first year and being scarred from Erina’s explosion whenever the topic was brought up.

              “Well, I’m curious if Tadokoro-san has any ideas about who her soulmate might be,” Hisako admitted. Immediately a rosy pink flooded her cheeks. Megumi might have heard rumours that a certain chef specializing in Chinese cuisine had a vegetable related tattoo. And maybe, Megumi adored conversing with Miyoko about cooking and how her eyes lit with an intense burning flame as she discussed her passions. Also, Megumi might have a tendency to stare at Miyoko’s face, her heart fluttering without fail when Miyoko’s plum eyes met her own accompanied by a smile. But she held her fledgling wish close to her heart. Many people never met their soulmate, even going as far as to cover their tattoo.

              “Who is the lucky person?” Hisako asked, the corner of her lips tugging higher up when she saw Megumi’s flustered expression.

              “No one!” Megumi squealed, “It … It’s just … I just have a guess, maybe.” Citrine eyes are steadily glued to the tea as knowing smiles are passed between Hisako and Erina.

              “You must find out Tadokoro-san! This is our last year,” Erina insisted. Megumi’s eyes go as wide as the teacup saucers before them.

              “Not at this very moment,” Hisako amended, “But soon.” Megumi meekly nodded and gratitude flooded her heart as Hisako directed the conversation elsewhere.

              A few days later while staring at the doors to the Chinese Cuisine RS, Megumi felt inclined to procrastinate the matter further. A sharp glance from Erina had sent Megumi toward her maybe-soulmate but now she was only a few steps away her mind blanked. How on earth was she supposed to casually bring up the topic? Hey! Can I see your soulmate tattoo because I think we might be soulmates but if not that’s cool too -  Just imagining the scenario was enough to fluster Megumi and send her into a state of disarray.

              “Hey Megumi, are you here for a Shokugeki too?” Souma asked. Megumi yelped, unaware of her best friend’s presence. “I was gonna test out this new Chinese dish I made, and I figured the best way would be a shokugeki!” he explained unfazed by Megumi’s surprise.

              “S-souma-kun! Oh, I guess … well …” Megumi struggled to find words but as the red head’s megawatt smile shone, she got a growing feeling that her emotions were not being conveyed.

              “I’ll let Hojo know right now, save you the trouble of writing one of those letters,” Souma offered. Megumi gulps down an immediate rejection. They were chefs and if words were failing her, as they often did, perhaps a dish would be the best.

              “Thank you Souma-kun! A shokugeki is perfect,” Megumi declared. Souma barreled in though not many blinked as the school had somewhat acclimatized to the chaotic chef. Megumi traced the word person on her hand, challenging her possible soulmate to a Shokugeki was enough to send her heart into overdrive.

              “What theme?” Miyoko’s voice snapped Megumi out of her trance.

              She summoned her courage and responded, “You! Or, um, your personality. A dish that is you.” Miyoko tilted her head ever so slightly, such an abstract theme was quite rare. “If you’re okay with that,” Megumi hastily added.

              “Let’s do it,” Miyoko agreed. Dates and details were decided in a flurry and each chef left in preparation for their upcoming battle.

              Before Megumi left to her room, a firm hand grasped her shoulder. “Good luck Megumi!!” Souma stated before heading off to the kitchen.

              “You too!” Megumi shouted in hopes of him hearing. Did Souma’s smile contain a hint of insight and mischief or was Megumi starting to hallucinate? She quickly brushed off the thought in favour of brainstorming on how to create a dish that conveyed all the emotions brewing in her heart.

              The day of Shokugeki arrives and Megumi’s emotions are on a wild roller coaster. The shokugeki itself brings no fear but Megumi has no idea what to do after. Does she ask to see Miyoko’s soulmate tattoo? Does she let it go? Does she confess regardless? Her mind is spiralling and suddenly just the thought of soulmates is enough to get her heart racing. The endless cycle continued until Megumi arrived on stage where she takes a page from Souma’s book and decided to just let the cooking do the talking and whatever came after would come.

              The crowd watched their every movement with anticipation but somehow Megumi felt freer than ever. The floodgates of her tumultuous emotions opened as she was put her entire heart on this plate. Her wishes, hopes, intentions, all laid out in a bout of courage and vulnerability intertwined together.

              Megumi serves ankimo, an exquisite delicacy Megumi manages to infuse with hospitality, accompanied by a salad of fresh and pickled vegetables. The judges compliment her use of Kogiku pumpkin and Tachikawa burdock root, but her eyes are glued to Miyoko taking a bite of an Akasuji daikon. Miyoko’s subsequent grin has Megumi’s heart soaring and it isn’t until this moment that Megumi how much she has fallen for her confident friend. God, she hoped so much that it was her, that by the end of this her hope would blossom rather than wilt.

              Miyoko serves xiao long bao with the dumplings folded precisely sixteen times and each with a unique filling. Truffle broth, shrimp stuffing, all crafted carefully, leaving Megumi in awe of how Miyoko prepared so much in so little time. The broth bursts in her mouth and encompassed her taste buds in a heavenly sensation. The Laohu Cai, also known as tiger salad, makes her heart skip a beat and fed her hope further.

              By the end Megumi wins 3-0, the judges congratulating both chefs on the spectacular dishes, but Megumi wins them over with the overflowing love that her dish can barely contain.

              “Congratulations, you’ve definitely earned your seat on the elite ten,” Miyoko praised.

              Megumi took a deep breath and declared, “I thought of you while making the dish.”

              “Since we’re not leaving anything barred, I am going show you this too,” Miyoko explained as she removed her shoe. On her ankle was a vegetable yokai surrounded by snowflakes. Megumi was so happy that tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She thinks back to the alumni comparing her to all types of yokai from household gods to koro-pok-guru. Megumi quickly rolls up her sleeve to reveal the purple-eyed tiger on her arm. Miyoko smiled while taking her hand and Megumi feels a garden of forget-me-nots bloom in her heart.

  Flower Meanings:

Bluebells – Grateful

Carnations – Fascination, distinction, love

Forget-me-not – True love

[carbonated-chicken-broth]

Happy Valentine’s Day || Gabriel x Reader

Gabe is my favorite l'il angel and I had to write about him because I can see him as one of those “boyfriends” that goes all out on Valentine’s Day with one of those massive Teddy Bears and a fuck-ton of chocolate.

Type: Fluff (I know, I know, but I'm in a cutesy mood so suck it horn dogs!)

Reader Gender: Female 

Warnings: Kissing...? Also Gabriel in general, so innuendos and all that jazz. Oh, and language. And cliché.

Word Count: 2,000+

    "I think I'm gonna clock out!" you called over your shoulder to Sam, who was set up in his usual spot at the long wooden table in the dining/research room, immersed in whatever was on the screen.

    He hummed in response, taking his eyes off his laptop for a moment to direct his steely gaze at you through those wise-looking eyes of his. "Not gonna go...um...wipe some broken hearts off the bar floor?" he teased, quirking one eyebrow as his scruff-lined lips twisted into a smile.

    You chuckled sleepily and shook your head, noting how your joints cracked and realigned at even the smallest movement. "I'll pass. Dean can get enough work done out there for the both of us. Besides," you added as an afterthought, "I'm tired as hell."

    "I hear you," Sam responded quietly, sinking back into his work.

    You sighed heavily and plodded down the semi-elegant hallway to your room, stretching your arms over your head as you went and letting out a satisfied groan when something popped. All you wanted was a nice, warm shower, and maybe some peace and quiet. Maybe even a beer and a movie if you got bored. Yeah, some BAB sounded great right about then. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. Great day for porn.

   With that thought in mind, you swung open the large, mahogany door with the intent of flopping uninterrupted onto your bed when-

    "And how's the cutest little human in the world?"

    "Gabriel! Get out of my room!"

    There he was, the peskiest of the four archangels, sprawled out on your covers with a wide grin etched across his handsome face.

    "How about no?" he snickered, sitting up and smirking. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day!" he added enthusiastically, opening his arms as if to augment his stating of the obvious. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn't stop in on my favorite human to give 'em a proper date?"

    You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, irritated beyond belief and sensing the stirrings of a migraine. "You're not my boyfriend, Gabriel. And I'm really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. I just wanna take a shower and lie down and maybe get some shut-eye before Dean comes back with someone and makes sleep impossible."

    Raising one eyebrow, the smirking archangel sat forward, his whiskey eyes gazing straight into yours with an air of smug unpredictability that had the reverse affect on his counter. "Mind if I join you?"

    "Fuck off, Feathers."

    "Rude," he pouted, cuing yet another eye-roll.

    "What do you want, Gabriel?" you asked sharply, crossing your arms and lifting your chin in an attempt to convey a semblance of confidence, even though his presence made your insides squirm like worms on LSD.

    "You, naked, covered in rose petals,” he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that never failed to make your heart do a little dance (often a frantic sort of “OH SHIT THOSE ARE SOME SEXY EYEBROWS” jig).

    You felt heat creep up your neck and gritted your teeth, balling your hands into fists. "Gabriel, I swear if you’re-"

    "It's just a joke, Sweetcheeks!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender, before muttering, "I'd prefer syrup, anyway. Sweeter."

    "Gabe..."

    "Fine," he sighed, his smirk softening to a smile, "I'm here to help you loosen up a bit. You look tense."

    "Yeah, I wonder why!"

    "Aw, c'mon," he whined, scooting to the edge of your bed and pouting up at you. "All I wanna do is cuddle! I won't bother you for the rest of February if you say yes." At least he was asking for consent. How generous.

   "You're bribing me now?" you snorted, trying to sound casually annoyed to hide how flattered you were by him. He always did that to you; he twisted you into confused knots until you didn't know how to feel. 

    It wasn’t as if being with him would be a huge issue. Dean wouldn’t like it – he hated Gabriel, even more so after the T.V. land escapade – but after a while, he’d adjust. Sam wouldn’t be so vocal about his distaste, probably even supportive. He was already third wheeling one frustrating couple. What could be the harm in adding another?

   No, the problem was with you. You didn’t want to tie yourself down to an archangel if it only meant a quick (though undoubtedly amazing) fuck and decades of heartbreak. He was so wild, you doubted he’d be up for a long-term relationship, and you weren’t sure you could handle a one-night-stand, as tempting as that option was.

    Gabriel’s eyes twinkled, intrigue written across his face. He had an air of smugness that tended to linger around him but seemed unfounded at that moment. Quickly (and suspiciously), he cut off your thoughts: "Is it working?"

    "Nope," you lied, walking over to your dresser to give yourself something to do other than stand awkwardly and in a state of slowly depleting gobsmackery in the doorway. If you were going to have to deal with Gabriel, you would definitely be dealing with him in comfy clothes.

    "Why are you making me work so harrrrrrd?" the ever-childish archangel whined, tilting his head and watching you open one of the mahogany drawers and rummage around.

    Sifting through your clothes, you groaned again, pulling out one of Sam's giant flannels (red-checked and soft) you’d stolen a while back. Winchester clothing was just more comfortable; even their boxers. You were tentative about wearing men’s underwear in front of the perverted archangel stationed on your bed but you know what they say: fuck it.

    "Because giving you what you want is like feeding the animals," you said distractedly, moving to your bathroom door (you had one separate from the boys’ because they took long showers and sometimes menstruation couldn’t wait an hour) and calling over your shoulder, "We cuddle once and then you never leave me alone!"

   You could feel his eyes drilling into you as you slipped inside, carefully locking the door behind you even though his bothering to use it would only be out of courtesy and therefore very unlikely. You waited for a few seconds in case Gabriel was planning on breaking in, before pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the sink.

    Lo’ and behold, there came the flutter of wings from directly behind you, the cool breeze from invisible wings tickling your nearly bare back. "But I just wanna cu- wow you are...wow."

    You blushed heavily and spun around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, only to realize that he could see straight down your bra. With a yelp, you grabbed the first thing you saw – a towel hanging on the door behind him – and held it against your practically naked torso. "Gabriel, what the hell!?"

    "I just wanted to keep talking to you," he whined, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and other emotions that you could recognize but didn't want to name.

    "So you came into the bathroom with me?!"

    "What's wrong with that?"

    "You're joking," you told him flatly, agitated, "You see nothing wrong with this? I'm half fucking naked, Gabriel!"

    "I noticed," the archangel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows again. "You're hotter than I imagined."

    "Than you imagined?" you snapped, your face flushing, "The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Oh God, did he…holy fuck, did he get off thinking about you? Christ, you couldn’t win with him!

    "Oh, you know what it means, Sugar~" Gabriel purred, taking a few steps forward so that his chest brushed against your forearms which pinned the towel to your quivering body.

    You blushed furiously, your eyes widening as you gazed breathlessly up at him. A strangled moan clawed its way out of your throat and past your clamped lips. After a beat, you finally found your voice, or some of it. "Shut up, Asshat!" you growled, wrinkling your nose and taking a step back.

    "Make me~"

    "Okay!" you snapped, stepping around him, "I get that it's Valentine's Day but I’m really not in the mood!"

    Gabriel sighed, gazing after you as you opened the door and slipped out, pulling the giant, tunic-like flannel over your scatterbrained head to hide your torso. ‘Sexy fucking angel,’ you thought, remembering vividly the way he could morph from innocent puppy-dog to I'm-gonna-fuck-you-'til-you-can't-walk in under a second. ‘What gives him the right.’

    "I just wanna help you relax," he whined (a tone he’d been taking quite a lot lately), watching you flop down on your bed and moving to sit on the end.

    "Leave me alone," you commanded, burying your face in the pillow and shutting your eyes right. You felt the bed creak next to you and you turned your head, coming eye to whiskey eye with the pesky archangel.

    "No."

    You groaned, turning your face to hide a blush as your heart fluttered from the proximity of his body to yours. Finally, you got up the courage to say it. "Fine."

    A grin spread across Gabriel's face. "What made you change your mind all of the sudden?" he asked innocently, the smirk on his face audible to your reddening ears.

    "Shut up."

    "Aww," he chuckled, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, "Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're pissed off?"

    You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, your mind on hyper-alert as he pressed closer, breath dancing over your neck. "Every damn time you see me," you snapped agitatedly. It was true, you had a tendency to get riled up when he was around, for obvious reasons. He seemed to find it amusing, which did nothing to help your flustered state.

    "You really are adorable," he said, sounding almost genuine.

   You blushed and shook your head, glaring at him over your shoulder as your heart did backflips. "I am not, Gabriel!" It sounded so childish you had to fight to keep from cringing.

    "Don't deny it," Gabriel chuckled, poking you nose. "See? You're like a kitten dumped in ice water. I just wanna hug you and kiss every inch of your skin and listen to your voice say my name over and over and over again..." He sighed, taking in a breath and pulling back a bit, gazing adoringly at you.

    Your face felt like it was on fire from all the heat rushing through it, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

    "I-I...uhm...I mean that's-wow..."

    The archangel's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, whispering, "Plus, you're adorable when you're flustered."

    You swore you thought your heart stopped for a second. It skipped a beat or two — or five — at his words.

    He chewed his lip, waiting for a response of some sort, of which you seemed incapable. You gazed at him like a tourist at the Statue of Liberty, your eyes wide and your lips parted as thoughts rushed through your mind like hot pockets through someone's dietary tract.

    His stare was what caught you; his deep golden-brown eyes simultaneously grounded you in reality and sent you off on tangents of mental fantasy.

    "So, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

    Gabe's mouth dropped open; it was his turn to look dumbfounded. "What, (Y/N)?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

    You rolled your eyes. "You wore me down, okay? You win. Now do me a favor and finish what you started!"

    A smile spread across his handsome features as he lifted himself up on one arm and cupped your face with his hand. Gently, he drew your lips up to his. Your lips met and instantly you felt right, somehow. Complete. You could feel heat radiating off of him, like somewhere inside him was a burning fire; his grace. Softly, his lips moved against yours as his fingers dragging up to card through your hair. A small gasp rose in your throat. It was magical, caring, even loving.

    You stayed there, frozen in his arms, for a few minutes before realizing that sometime soon, you’d need to breathe. Pulling back, you gasped, your chest heaving against his. "Oh, I forgot," he chuckled.

    "What?" you asked incredulously, breathless, "To breathe?"

    "Maybe..."

    "Christ, Gabe," you groaned, glaring at him with amusement dancing in your features. "How have you survived this long?"

    Gabriel shrugged, grinning sheepishly. You knew that he was set on you being the adorable one, but the way he smiled was pretty damn cute. His eyes crinkled slightly, shining like pools of liquid gold. It struck you how just last year the pair of you had been enemies, and now there you were, lying in bed with him. The bed you had just kissed in.

    "You're hopeless," you sighed, resting your head back on the pillow.

    He tilted his head, propping himself up to glare jokingly down at you. "Ouch. Harsh."

    "But accurate, Mr. Century-Old-Archangel."

    ‘Mr. Century-Old-Archangel’ chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm and brushing a few wayward strands of hair out of your face. "Cutie."

    "I'm not cute!"

    "Whatever you say, Sugar. Happy Valentine’s Day."

    "You too, Gabe."

----------------------------------------------

Yeah, yeah, it’s super cliché. It’s Valentine’s Day. Deal. Have a swell day/afternoon/evening/night/whatever else! Happy Valentine’s Day!

~Ev