#foody goody

[redlikerozez]

Tuna Mayo

Summary:

Inumaki Toge tries to make rice balls in the aftermath of Shibuya. Reader helps him out.

Or an Inumaki Toge-centric fic about dealing with the events of Shibuya while also being absolutely whipped for GN!Reader.

Content warnings/tags: Canon typical descriptions of violence, dealing with loss of limb, probably inaccurate description of making rice balls

About 2000 words.

Author’s Note:

For @tsukimefuku ’s JJK Foodies and Goodies Event!! This has been in the works for forever but I just now got around to actually writing it! Sorry for the wait!

divider credits @ thecutestgrotto

Fic under the cut!

Inumaki Toge was caught in the crossfire of Sukuna’s cursed technique. It happened so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend the sudden loss of limb before the world cracked and jolted under his feet like the most sinister of earthquakes he’d ever experienced.

The rubble of newly destroyed buildings quickly toppled him, even with his fast reflexes honed from sparring with Maki. The absence of his arm had left him off balance and unsteady.

Without any way to actually push the large stones off of his rapidly bleeding out body, he tried screaming. Screaming with all his throat had left in the tank, which wasn’t a lot to begin with. He couldn’t even shout the word help. He could only shriek nonsensical ingredients for rice balls, hoping and praying his comrades in arms would find him in the carnage.

He ceased his fruitless attempts at rescue when he began coughing up blood from his thoroughly shot throat. He used his technique too much already. The screaming surely wasn’t helping.

The edges of his vision slowly washed and swirled a comforting shade of black. His body and extremities were feeling numb and cold.

Is this what dying feels like? he wondered to himself.

The only thing he could actually feel was the scratchy aftermath of using his voice so much, the rest felt like floating in a lukewarm pool of water. Maybe dying wasn’t so bad after all.

The rays of moonlight over the city came into view of his drooping and exhausted eyelids and he saw a flash of a familiar white uniform.

Rika was working on lifting up the heaviest stones from off of his body while Yuuta looked like he was shouting something his brain couldn’t comprehend in such a state of blood loss.

His eyes drifted off somewhere behind Yuuta’s form and he laid his violet gaze upon you.

Your face was white as a sheet and you were pointing a trembling finger in his direction from a little further off. You had heard him screaming and went to seek help.

A soft smile spread across his face. If this was the last thing he would ever see, he was glad it was going to be your face.

And with that, he blacked out for several days.

Several rounds of reverse cursed technique later and being treated in Shoko’s infirmary alongside several other brutally injured and similarly maimed sorcerers in the aftermath of Shibuya, Inumaki Toge was forced to cope with the realization that living with one arm was going to have to become the new normal for him.

Shoko had explained to him that you and Yuuta had searched all over for the missing arm in hopes of being able to reattach it, but they couldn’t find it in the destroyed remains of Shibuya.

“Spicy cod roe,” he had said bitterly in return. He liked to use this in place of expletives.

He already had to deal with so little talking and struggling to communicate his thoughts accurately because of his cursed technique, surely it wasn’t going to be so difficult getting used to another such obstacle.

It was days after the trauma of the Shibuya incident and he was back in the dormitory’s kitchenette with the plans of making a small midnight snack.

Phantom limb pain and phantom limb itches had kept him up longer than he intended and he was growing restless just staring up at the ceiling in bed so he figured it would be best to try and occupy himself with something other than sleeping.

He punched the button to open up the rice cooker and reached into a drawer to grab a clean plastic rice paddle. He scooped out a clumsy spoonful of rice and set it on a cooking mat on the counter. He fished open another drawer and got out a sharp knife for cutting up the spare bit of tuna left he had gotten out of the refrigerator before.

He tried several times to get a nice clean cut on the piece of tuna, but without a second arm to brace the thing, the knife kept dragging around the raw fish around the cutting board.

Toge huffed a sigh to himself and looked at the ugly pieces and thought it wouldn’t really matter anyway since the tuna was going to go inside the rice ball. It wouldn’t be visible on the finished product.

Squeezing a good bit of mayonnaise on the cooking mat he started to try and incorporate it into the rice so that it would become sticky so he could form the shape of the rice ball-proper.

Once again, it was an exceedingly awkward and surprisingly challenging experience to try and squish around mayonnaise into rice as he tried to make sure it was at least somewhat evenly coated. The rice was spilling off the cooking mat in his clumsiness and getting all over the counter because, again, he didn’t have that second hand he greatly missed to brace and control the direction of the rice.

When it was good enough to call government work, he just stared at the mess before him and realized that this was a much more difficult task than he initially realized. What had been like second-nature or even as easy as breathing to him before was suddenly a monumentally more complicated endeavor with only one hand to work with.

How on earth was he going to shape the rice balls with only one hand? He hadn’t really thought about it when he originally began on his midnight snack.

He started in earnest, nonetheless, on his seemingly impossible task. He worked a clump of the sticky rice-mayo concoction in his singular hand and undulated it around in an attempt to create some sort of familiar shape. He wasn’t picky if it was a circle or a triangle, but anything that remotely resembled one of the two shapes would be best.

However, the material kept refusing to cooperate in his palm and broke apart. As hard as he tried to reform the clump into something edible, any shape would disintegrate in his hand with one wrong move.

In his frustration, he just squished the entire thing into his fist as the rice-mayo oozed out and stuck to the sides of his aching fingers. He tried to flick off the excess back onto the cooking mat and clean off his hand, but in his fit of anger, it was a fruitless venture. Slamming his rice-riddled fist on the counter, he heaved another frustrated sigh as he suddenly felt his heart and throat tighten just like his solitary fist.

How could something so simple and familiar to him just a few days ago turn impossible after just a few short seconds and being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

“Inumaki-san?”

Your voice felt like a soothing balm to the tightness in his chest and the phantom pain in his no-longer-there hand.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded, and tried to wipe away a tear that was threatening to fall from his eyes in frustration, but he only succeeded in slathering a mess of rice-mayo on his face. And when he realized what he had done, he frantically tried to wipe that off, but his entire hand was covered in the stuff and it just made everything worse.

God, he must look like an idiot in front of you! His mind was filled with curses but he stopped in his tracks when he heard the nearly angelic sound of your laugh. It caught him off guard and he looked up and over in your direction for the first time.

You had the cutest smile plastered on your face and a shy hand was partially obscuring it to hide your burst of sudden laughter.

“Need a hand with that?” you asked him, voice light with laughter.

His entire body felt like it had been dunked in ice water.

Your hand slapped over your mouth in realization.

“Oh, shoot! Oh my god, I’m such an idiot… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Inumaki-san. Please, forget what I said. I’m so sorry, I swear. I didn’t-” you frantically tried to apologizing. “Here, let me-”

You rushed over to his side and grabbed the kitchen towel that hung off the sink and started to wipe away the mess of rice all over his face. He was still paralyzed, stuck stiff as a board as you worked carefully and methodically at cleaning him up.

He watched you work intently. It was hard not to, being in such close proximity. Up close, your eyes were even more dazzling than they appeared from far away. Toge felt his cheeks heating up at the proximity and he tried to look away to hide his surely lobster-red face, but you caught his cheek and held it in place with a frown on your face.

“Don’t move, I’m trying to help.”

He was trapped. Thoroughly paralyzed under your words. It was like you had his Cursed Technique, the way you spoke with such conviction. It was like he was covered by heavy debris from a destroyed building again, but this time it was only your words trapping him in a daze.

You breathed a sigh and removed your hands and the towel from his face not too long after. You tossed the towel back on the sink.

“There, all done.”

He nodded, finally breaking free from your spell and being able to move again.

“What were you trying to do? Make some rice balls?” you asked, eyes falling to the remains of the midnight snack on the cooking mat.

He nodded again and averted his gaze from the mess on the countertop. It was embarrassing, really, to look at. Toge had always prided himself on being a fairly decent cook. The state of the kitchen counter wasn’t something he wanted anyone to witness, especially not you.

“I’m not really good at shaping them, but if you need some help, I can try my best.”

He stared at you for the longest time, trying to decipher if your words were sincere or if you were mocking him in his weakness. But you didn’t possess a malicious bone in your body. It was probably an earnest offer to help, he decided.

Toge made a “go ahead” motion with his hand and stepped away from the counter.

You nodded to him and stepped up to the mess on the counter and tried to figure out where to begin. His face flushed again and he almost wanted to tear away your shoulder from the countertop and push you out of the kitchenette. He suddenly felt like everything leading up to this moment had been a huge mistake. He never should have gone to make a snack at midnight. Of course someone would end up walking in on him making a huge fool of himself, and of course it just had to be you! It was so stupid, he shouldn’t have-

But any motion in his body that wanted to run away or rip you away from his embarrassing attempt at cooking halted when he heard you start humming to yourself as you took a much-too large clump of rice into your hands and began shaping it clumsily.

He stood there stiff again, stupefied by your jaunty tune and carefree aura radiating from every last cell of your body. It was like you didn’t even see a big mess, just another way to help a friend in need. A hand instinctively covered up his mouth that he only just now realized had fallen open.

Toge watched you gently press an ugly piece of tuna into the far too large, mostly triangle-shaped rice ball and set it on the mat. And you just began to form another. This one had much less rice than the previous one. There was no way they were going to turn out even at this rate, but he was enchanted with watching your hands as they worked their magic.

By the time you finished, you presented him with three unequal sized rice balls on a ceramic plate you had fetched from the top shelf.

“Sorry, they’re all kinda uneven, but they should taste all the same, ahaha,” you said, offering the plate nervously to him.

He nearly forgot to take the plate out of your hands, he was too busy staring at you with eyes swimming with every question and compliment under the sun he wanted to shower you with, but he couldn’t say anything that his brain wanted to.

All that came out of his mouth was, “Salmon.”

All writing and art posted by this blog is original work by ©RedLikeRozez. Do not reupload, translate, copy, or claim as your own work.

[actuallysaiyan]

My Cinnamon Girl

warnings: smoking, general fluff pairings: Older!Salaryman!Nanami Kento x Fem!Barista!Reader summary: Kento is your regular customer and one night when he really needs you, he ends up finding you outside smoking and you offer him some pastries. a/n: For the amazing JJK writing Event, Foodies and Goodies created by the wonderful @tsukimefuku! This fic is very inspired by Smoking Behind The Supermarket With You and I was very much encouraged lovingly by April(@kentocalls) to write this and I'm so pleased with it!

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly

@namikyento @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa

@darkstarlight82 @melisuh123. @galactict3a

@erebus-et-eigengrau. @aomi04 @isabelzoldyck

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@aleigant @gigiculona. @rahuratna

He always took this route to get home. It was his favorite way to get home. Not only that, but it made it so he’d always pass by his favorite bakery. The coffee was exquisite and the pastries brought him straight to heaven. 

Kento Nanami didn’t regret never going back to the sorcerer’s life, but sometimes he wondered if working in stocks was really the best for him. Too late to change his mind, as his 45th birthday was nearing and he knew that he didn’t have too long to work now before he could fully retire.

The little bakery was his relief. Kento looks forward to it every single day. Even on his days off, he goes to that bakery. He loves to eat breakfast there. He enjoys sipping on coffee while looking over paperwork. And the thing he enjoys the most there…it’s you.

You with your sweet smile, your soft voice and calm demeanor. You’re the person who always makes his days brighter. Even when his boss is on his ass, he knows that seeing you will be the bandaid his soul needs. So every day, he walks to and fro work and passes by the bakery where you work.

One day, he makes his way there after a long day at work. He’s completely exhausted. The only thing that makes him feel good in this world today will be to see you. He wants to see your smile before he heads home for the evening. After this long day, it’s the only thing he can truly say would heal him.

And yet, when he enters the bakery, he notices you’re not at the counter. He sighs and loosens his tie, approaching the counter to greet the older woman who works there.

“Good evening, okyaku-sama!” she calls to him, beckoning him over.

“Good evening, can I get a loaf of sourdough bread and a cup of green tea?”

She nods and gets started on his order. He already knows how much it’s going to cost him, so he pulls out a few bills and some coins and places them on the counter. He’s disappointed that you aren’t here tonight, but he thinks he’ll be able to survive. 

“Here you are! Do you have your points card?” the elderly barista asks him.

“Oh, yes, here you are.”

Kento hands her the points card, and she’s not privy to the sad look on his face. He comes every day, sometimes multiple times a day and it’s mostly to see the young barista who is her favorite coworker.

“She just got off,” the elderly barista explains. “If you hurry out now, she’s probably outside having a smoke.”

Kento’s cheeks and tops of his ears burn, “W-what…?”

The elderly woman laughs, “The young woman you come here to chat up. My coworker? She’s probably outside smoking in the smoking section.”

Kento’s heart flutters and skips a beat. He takes the cup of tea and loaf of bread from her, thanking her for her service. The elderly barista laughs softly, ushering him outside.

He makes his way out, finding you exactly where your coworker said you’d be. You’re sitting on an overturned crate, a tired look on your features. Something about this warms Kento’s heart. He knows he’s not the only tired person in this world. You work hard; he has seen it first hand.

An unlit cigarette balances on your bottom lip. You seem to be spaced out, not really paying attention to anything. Kento notices a few pastry boxes near where you sit. He comes closer to you, smiling down at you. A lit lighter appears in your view.

“Could I light that for you?” he asks.

You gasp softly, the cigarette nearly falling out of your mouth. Kento gently cups your chin to steady you and he lights the cigarette.

“Thank you,” you whisper before exhaling.

Kento procures his own cigarette and lights it up. “My pleasure.”

Neither of you know what to say for a bit. He takes a sip of his green tea, sitting next to you and he smiles. It’s a comfortable silence.

“You’re my regular, aren’t you?” you ask him, smiling at the older man.

He blushes once more, “Am I this obvious? Even your coworker knew who I was…and she made sure to tell me where you were.”

You mutter a curse under your breath. Damn that older woman…putting her nose in your love life.

You chuckle softly, taking a deep drag from your cigarette. “I mean,” you blow out the smoke. “You come here multiple times a day.”

Kento’s eyes widen, “I like the coffee! And the pastries!”

You can’t help but laugh even more now. He was so cute. Quite a bit older than you, but you always liked that in a relationship. You move a bit closer to him, opening up one of the pastry boxes.

“Since you love the pastries so much, why not try this? IT’s a new pastry I’m working on for the cafe.”

Kento’s hands shake as he reaches into the box and pulls out a flaky little pie looking thing from the box. It’s tiny and has a gooey looking center. He puts out his cigarette, bringing the small pastry to his lips. The first bite is exquisite. He unknowingly lets out a moan of joy at the flavor. Gooey cinnamon and butter and nutmeg and…

“That good huh?” you ask, flicking your cigarette.

Kento nods, mouth still full of pastry. “Amazing! Please tell me you’ll be selling these in store!”

You smile. “Well I might just because my favorite customer just complimented me.”

Kento swallows the last bite, his cheeks still red. He never knew just how nervous and shy you made him feel. He looks at you seriously, his mind whirling with a million thoughts. You put out your cigarette, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly.

“If you liked that, why don’t you come to my place sometime and I can bake for you?”

Kento’s at a loss for words, but he manages to say one thing. “S-sure!”

You take out your phone, thrusting it into his hands. “Put your number in my contacts.”

Kento’s hands feel so shaky as he puts his number into your phone. You can’t help but smile at him. Both of you have the biggest crushes on each other and it’s only now that you finally get to make your move.

“Great! So if you’re not busy now…” you suggest, a grin on your face. “Why don’t you walk me home? I can pay you with pastries.”

How could Kento say no to that?

[goldenwolfen]

Here she is, my Macaraccoon! love how this turned out! She certainly loves her big pile of macarons and macaroons <3

Original and prints are now available here!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

My "Batter" Half

A/N: Written for @tsukimefuku's foodies and goodies challenge. Coming out of a bit of a writing slump with everything going on atm, so I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Pairing: Nanami x Fem! Reader (Desi reader coded)

Rating: E, safe, fluffy, cute

Word Count: 897

Nanami sits on one of the barstools at your kitchen’s island watching you bustle around getting all the grains the recipe called for. 

“Sweetie, I only asked if it was possible sometime this week. You don’t have to make it for me right away.” 

You shush him, pushing your hair out of the way as you measure the Sona Masoori rice, flat rice, and fenugreek, throwing them all into a large baking bowl and hefting the bowl towards the sink, adding in enough water so that a thin layer covered all of it. You cover the bowl with saran wrap and place it away on the countertop. 

There was no question that you loved cooking for Nanami, but something in you glowed when he asked for South Indian food. There was a regular rotation in what the pair of you cooked but when he asked for masala dosa, you melted inside, all of your senses kicking into high gear to feed him what he craved. It was comfort food for you growing up, and it meant the world to you that he had grown to love it too. 

He knew the effort it took, an almost 2-day process just to make the batter, so he didn’t normally ask for it. The first step was done, letting the grains ferment overnight in water. You wash your hands and join him at the island. 

“It’s no trouble at all Kento. Anything for you.” You rest your head against his shoulder, a soft sigh emanating from him as he puts an arm around you. “Hopefully it’ll be all nice and soft tomorrow. Then I’ll run it through the grinder to make the batter and it’ll have to sit overnight in the oven, so don’t plan on baking anything tomorrow.”

He chuckles, the soft vibrations felt against your hair. “Roger that. But you still didn’t have to get started so immediately.”

“You rarely ask for anything. I couldn’t resist.” You press a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go to bed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The next day morning, you check the bowl, pleased to see all the components have fluffed up and taken in as much water as they could. You begin to set up the little grinder that would change the grains into batter, carefully placing the rod mechanism attached to two 5-pound stones into the apparatus. Once in place, you switch it on, and carefully begin adding the grain mixture in between the two stones, adding water to help it along and adjust the thickness. Once all the rice has been put into the contraption, you sit and wait, watching the batter form, checking it for smoothness and ensuring the grain wasn’t clustering into lumps. 

You salt the mixture well and then cover it again with saran wrap, then place it inside the oven, where the added humidity would help the batter thicken and rise, making for the fluffiest dosas. 

Kento wanders downstairs, ready for work in a crisp shirt and tie, eyes taking in the scene in the kitchen. “Someone was up early today,” he observes as you start disassembling the grinding machine. You give him a pleased smile and carefully set the heavy stones back into the box they belonged in. 

“Had to. The earlier I start the process, the quicker it’ll ferment. Who knows, maybe even by tonight if we get lucky.”

Nanami smiles tenderly and pulls you into a hug. “Whenever honey. I’m just glad you took the time to make it.”

You kiss him tenderly before he leaves for work.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day has finally arrived. You check the oven and almost giggle from the delight of seeing the fluffy batter resting in the large bowl. It was ready.

As Nanami slept in, a rare luxury he could only afford on weekends, you begin prepping the dosa filling, throwing the potatoes into a pressure cooker, while chopping onions into half-circles. Once the pressure cooker whistles 3 times, you take it off the flame, waiting for it to cool, before mashing the potatoes. Deftly, you heat the oil in a large wok, tossing in mustard seeds, green chilies, and black lentils for tempering. Once they start to sizzle, you throw a few curry leaves on top, the pleasant crackle bringing a smile to your lips.

The onions and potatoes are tossed into the wok and mixed with a pinch of turmeric, and some cilantro. A fragrant scent fills the kitchen as you set it aside and get ready to make the dosa. A ladle dipped into the fluffy batter, then spread thinly on a greased pan, going in concentric circles from the middle until it starts to heat up and harden, becoming crisp. You scoop some of the onion potato filling and place it in the center, allowing the dosa to harden a little longer before folding it in half and placing it on a plate. 

You’re about to start the second one when Nanami wanders into the kitchen, still in his pajamas. 

“My nose woke me up,” he says good-naturedly, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You sigh contentedly, laying down the batter for the next one as Nanami breaks off a piece of dosa and tucks into the filling. He chews and swallows, savoring the spice.

“Delicious,” he whispers, and your heart swells with joy, his appreciation the only thing you needed. 

Nanami masterlist | JJK Masterlist

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[sikfankitchen]

Spider Peanut Butter Cookies for Halloween! 🕸️🍪

[gent-illmatic]

[viejospellejos]

¿Hay hambre? 🍝

[goodiegodmother]

Homemade Oreos Recipe https://ift.tt/PlzTsV8

[honoratacarnage]

makin' brownies!

who wants to lick the bowl?

[khsravenclaw]

Do You Feel Hot? CHARING'S It's getting hot, which means summer is coming! Are you craving something cold and sweet, with a variety of toppings? Well, worry no more because here in Pasig Palengke, you will find the most famous and special Halo-Halo at Charing's Food Court. But—ohh!—you also want other meriendas? Fear not, because they also offer mami, palabok, lugaw, and tokwa't baboy. The popularity of Charing's food place has made other well-known people try their food, like Vico Sotto (the Mayor of Pasig City) and Ninong Ry (one of the best chefs and food bloggers). If you are quite distant from Pasig Palengke, Charing's offers delivery services from 10:00 AM to 4:30 PM, Tuesday to Sunday. When we visited Charing's, we decided to try their renowned halo-halo and palabok. Upon reaching the dining area, we encountered a large crowd, leading to a lengthy wait to place our order. The line was long, and the food preparation was slow, which tested our patience. However, once we tasted their special halo-halo, it was clear that the wait was worthwhile and the price was justified. This unique dessert offered a delightful blend of flavors and textures, generously adorned with a variety of toppings, creating a visual feast and elevating the dessert to an extraordinary level, ensuring a thoroughly enjoyable and satisfying experience. We can confidently assert that Charing's eatery is worthwhile, primarily due to its renowned halo-halo and the other dishes we sampled. Charing's special halo-halo holds a special place in the hearts of many Pasigueños solely because of its different sizes, which come with different prices. So why not try it now to experience the sweet and cold taste of summer at Charing's Food Court?!

[pmpmyread]

Bento Box Blunder

A/N: My last-minute entry for the JJK Foodies and Goodies challenge created by @tsukimefuku! Pairing: Kento Nanami x Female Reader Summary: You’d always admired Kento Nanami from a distance, even harboring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Then one day, you stole his lunch. Content tags: SFW, fluff, gratuitous mentions of food. Read on AO3

The day you stole Kento Nanami’s lunch distinguished itself with an unusual spike in cursed spirit activity, resulting in a flurry of briefings, prep work and drop-offs for auxiliary managers such as yourself.

You’d just returned from one of said drop-offs, hastily grabbing your packed bento from the break room fridge, slumping onto the first bench you found by the campus greenhouse. A pang of hunger now gnawed at your empty stomach, outweighing your fatigue in the process.

You finally opened the box, finding an arrangement that was more akin to what one would find in an artisan catering box, in the form of a ground chicken, scrambled eggs and spinach meticulously layered atop a fluffy bed of steamed rice. An appetizing meal, no doubt.

Only it was not yours.

You swiftly replaced and re-opened the signature lacquered elm finish lid, as though the action would magically replace its unfamiliar contents with the meal you’d diligently prepared the night before.

You groaned as the realization dawned on you: in your fatigued stupor, you had somehow managed to mistakenly take off with one of your poor colleagues’ lunch. As if on cue, a buzzing notification on your phone confirmed that you wouldn’t have the time to return to the staff room and rectify this in time for your next briefing.

After suffering through the remainder of your extended shift, combatting both fatigue and hunger, you finally made it back to a now  mostly empty fridge, with your original bento box nowhere to be found. Still a bit scatterbrained from the eventful day, you desperately attempted to process the meaning of all this. Had your colleague taken your lunch in exchange? Had it even left your home in the first place?

“You must be the culprit returning to the scene of the crime.”

You turned to the source of the distinct voice, and found yourself face to face with none other than Kento Nanami.

Prior to this moment, your interactions with the Grade 1 sorcerer had been limited to the occasional greeting politely exchanged as you ran into each other within the campus’ common areas. He kept mostly to himself and you pegged him to be a serious, no-nonsense guy.

And you had robbed him of his lunch.

“I am so sorry, I totally got our boxes mixed up!” you meekly replied.

“I don’t fault you, I can now see how that would occur,”  he stated, bringing up a lunch box that matched the one you were still holding, lightly tapping them together before drawing his gaze back up to you. “After all, these are identical.”

You’d always admired Nanami from a distance, even harbouring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Now however, you suddenly grew aware of his stature as he towered over you, of his softer-than-expected demeanour and of the large calloused fingers that held onto your bento box.

Get it together, you thought to yourself, in a desperate attempt to centre yourself back to the exchange at hand. He spoke before you got the chance to do so.

“I was mostly curious to learn the identity of the talent behind this homemade meal. Did you make this?”

“I did, last night,” you reply cautiously, still taken aback by his compliment and its implications. Had he tasted your cooking?

As if reading your mind, he clarified, “I did of course leave your meal untouched, tempted as I was not to, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the sauce was made with, if you don’t mind sharing? It has a lovely aroma I was unable to place.”

This certainly was not the direction you’d expected the conversation to turn.

A flutter of excitement replaced the pit in your stomach, as you described the steps in making your spicy peanut sauce recipe, a dish you’d learned from your mother and had since committed to memory. Nanami occasionally cut in with clarifying questions, borne out of what you now discerned to be genuine interest.

This went on for a few minutes, until one of your colleagues popped into the room to grab a stack of reports, an interruption that served as a natural stopping point to an otherwise passionate conversation.

Nanami handed you your original box, stacking it onto the one you were carrying before tugging on the latter in a maneuver to trade with you. Possessed in a moment of boldness, you tightened your grip on his box in resistance, the movement inadvertently caused your fingers to brush, resulting in your breath hitching ever so slightly as you lifted your head up to meet his now inquisitive gaze.

“I could bring you some if you’d like,” you offered.

“Pardon?”

“Let me make you lunch? I was going to make a fresh batch today anyway. I’ll bring it tomorrow? It’s the least I can do, to make up for today.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’re able to register the thrill of a boldness that surprised even yourself.

He ponders this for a few seconds before finally acquiescing.

“Let me clarify that you absolutely do not owe me anything, but if you insist, and only if you promise you’re not going out of your way…”

“Promise, it’s no bother at all!”

That evening, you replayed the surreal interaction in your mind as you meticulously prepped, cooked and packed for your two lunches.

The next day, he graciously accepted your offering. The delightful micro-expressions that lit up his face as he savoured the fruits of your labor more than made up for the previous day’s ordeal.

Less than a week later, Nanami prepared a bento box of his own to share with you - a novel and delicious take on a chicken and egg oyakodon, that he remixed by way of adding some of the spices you’d shared in your own recipe, resulting in a fusion of both your cuisines, a gesture emblematic of reciprocity that was decidedly bringing the two of you closer. In the following weeks, without explicit consensus, you slipped into the weekly habit of taking turns preparing lunch for each other, eating together whenever your schedules allowed for it.

It did not take long for you to realize the extent to which Nanami was a foodie, and a very opinionated one at that. His otherwise reserved demeanour disappeared momentarily, if only for the duration of lunch time, an openness you easily matched, elated at the privilege to break up what were otherwise long and often draining work days in such good company.

Culinary themes easily dominated your lunchtime conversations as you broached upon everything from tastes to flavour profiles to fusion cuisine to kitchen equipment. Slowly, surely, and unwittingly, you both peeled back your layers over the comfort of your delectable shared meals.

Eventually, your discussions veered into other topics. On one particularly busy spring day, Nanami had left you his contribution to the shared meal of the week in the break room fridge: maple barbecue chicken with a side of glazed sweet potatoes, a stark departure from his usual, savoury rice-based meals. He’d informed you that he would be unavailable at your usual lunch time as he’d be working a later shift, and as such you’d planned to eat alone. As it happened, your tasks had pushed you to take an exceptionally late lunch.

You hadn’t expected to spot him alone, sitting on a bench by the training grounds, in a deeply pensive state.

You had half a mind to leave him be but your feet took you to him, and you seated yourself next to him at his quiet invitation. You thanked him for the lunch, and he expressed that he was glad you enjoyed it. You weren’t unused to comfortable silences in your conversations, but this one carried an unusually heavy charge.

After a while, he finally spoke. “It was my best friend’s favourite dish. He died 10 years ago today.”

Over a shared sweet dish that had once bonded two young optimistic best friends, you took stock of a depth in his eyes that appeared to broadcast a silent internal war struggling to break through to his surface as he unpacked the consequences of the perils that inevitably came with the nature of your duties. You listened as the 7:3 sorcerer reminisced on tender memories that punctuated his childhood friendship with Yu Haibara, like how this maple glaze had first tasted too sweet to his liking but eventually grew on him.

The day you were assigned on your first mission together tested many of your preconceived beliefs. The team consisting of Nanami, Ino Takuma and yourself as support, was assigned to a standard exorcism mission. In theory, you knew that the two of them were more than capable of handling it. And yet, somehow, something about your proximity to Nanami as he was about to cross the curtain you’d just raised made the dangers feel more real than ever.

Right as you whispered an inaudible word of caution, Nanami turned to you with a small nod and a reassuring smile.

In that very moment, it came to you more as a shock than a surprise that you no longer regarded him as just another colleague or friend.

That you had completely fallen for him.

The mission went without a hitch and was even completed far ahead of schedule. Ino left ahead of you, leaving you with Nanami who pointed out that you were  a short walk from one of the bakeries he had recommended you, and suggested you have lunch there.

You learned that the appetizing casse-croûte ordered at his recommendation had been a chance discovery, the outcome of a desperate quest to replace a favourite treat that had been discontinued during his former corporate days. You bantered over a philosophy he shared about the tolerance for life’s little despairs being a hallmark for adulthood, to which you playfully countered that the appreciation of creature comforts was more important.

“I will concede that this particular little despair may not be the best example, seeing as it eventually led me to my new favourite bakery.”

“Exactly, it’s called serendipity, Nanami. In a similar way, it was the little despair of mixing up our lunch boxes that led my enjoyment of this delightful casse-croûte!”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “You’re citing a situation where your own mistake led to your own benefit. I don’t think your logic holds.”

“Okay, sure. But all in all, aren’t you glad it happened?”

He dropped his gaze, fixating on the remainder of his coffee for a moment, before raising it again to meet your eyes, his expression indecipherable.

“I am,” he finally replies, quietly.

You took a bite to conceal your reaction, convincing yourself that you had gotten carried away and had been too forward, that you were feeding into your own delusions, that you should dial it back.

A few days later, Kento Nanami proved you wrong, by formally asking you out to dinner.

The reservation he’d secured for your first date was at a new dandy restaurant you’d seen advertised and had been eager to try out, on their highly coveted opening night, no less. However, the promise of a “memorable 5-course experience” quickly revealed itself to be little more than puffed-up TikTok fodder, all hype and little substance, as evidenced by the tiny portions of subpar meals.

You brushed off the situation as being more comical than disappointing, a sentiment Nanami was unable to bring himself to mirror at first. It was only long after leaving and several attempts to convince him that the burden of such a questionable choice rested squarely on you, having been the one to fall for the establishment’s deceptive marketing that he finally loosened up, eventually joining you in laughing it off. Together, you took turns in delivering scathing critiques and commentary on the experience, turning the ordeal into a nice humorous moment that stretched long after he’d parked back in front of your apartment.

Not wanting the evening to end just yet, you invited him up, and over what you later coined to be ‘redemption ramen’, the two of you candidly chatted until the early hours of the morning.

Some months later, over a truly memorable 5-course meal, this time of his own creation, you agreed to become Kento Nanami’s wife.

On the tail end of a particularly hectic week, you'd sensed that your fiancé could use a break. So when the young Yuuji Itadori approached you, practically begging you to convince ‘Nanamin’ to agree to let him show off his signature homemade meatballs, you jumped at the timely opportunity.

And thus, the three of you found yourselves in Kento’s kitchen that very evening, an occasion that granted you a front-row seat to the lovely bond that had formed between the two. You observed as Nanami seamlessly switched between the roles of mentor and student, diligently following Yuuji’s instructions, all the while using the exercise to dispense kind lessons in patience in response to the teen’s intermittent bursts of ardor.

Over a warm meal consisting of spaghetti and homemade meatballs, as you watched the man before you offer earnest congratulations and praise to his beloved mentee, who, in turn, proudly beamed with radiant joy, you couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful a father your future husband would be.

You hadn’t realized the reverie you’d been lulled into through the monotony of your continuous stirring movement until the gentle voice of your now-husband snapped you out of it.

“Darling? Are you listening?”

The two of you were in the middle of cooking together, in a moment of much anticipated domesticity that closed out an otherwise chaotic week. You had just moved into your new marital home a mere few hours ago. Boxes were still sprawled around the living space. While ordering takeout would have been the wiser choice given the circumstances, you’d both agreed to indulge in your common craving instead - a hearty homemade beef stew.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I was saying that I forgot to get some paper plates. We’d have to unearth the dinnerware from god knows which box, which I don’t think either of us has the energy for. I’ll run out and buy some.” he trailed off.

“Oh wait, I believe I may have just the thing!" you exclaimed as you handed him the reins of the spoon "Take over for me?” He watched as you sauntered towards a discarded reusable bag sitting by a pile of boxes, fishing out a pair of matching bento boxes that you’d insulated from the chaos of packing for this very occasion.

“You don’t mind using these, do you?” you asked, holding them up like trophies.

He returned your smile with a warm one of his own. “Not at all.”

Special thanks to @tsukimefuku for creating the challenge that finally pushed me to post my first JJK fic!

Thanks to @positive--space for helping me with the visuals!

Taglist: @strawberry1042 @darkfaerietails @Jay220a @fattybattysblog @suguru-nugget @senseifupa @aleigant @gigiculona @rahuratna

Thanks for reading! 🩵 | See my Masterlist

[savagebeautyqueen]

Yesterday’s lunch.

Crispy Duck with jasmine rice, seasoned egg and bok choy. & Thai Iced Tea

📍MISC; Brooklyn

[jamesabelc]

Coco Mama Boracay

January 2023

[healthyandfreshofficial]

Experimenting in the kitchen tonight! 🍽️ Tried a new recipe with succulent paneer cubes and added a twist with some canned goodies. 🧀🥫 Can't wait to see how it turns out!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

My face as I read this:

Higuruma Hiromi | Love you a waffle lot, you know?

Sfw, established relationship w/ soft king Hiromi. fluff with smoochin (so sprinkled nsfw if you squint)

Foodies and Goodies entry and also me dusting off the typewriter after almost 10 years of not writing a fic. Thank you @tsukimefuku for the inspo!

The sensation of the cold, wet air and the faint sound of rain awaken your senses. A rainstorm provides respite from a week of stress, anxiety, and fatigue as it welcomes you to a new day. The overcast sky is causing very little light to filter into your bedroom. You awaken to the sensation of cold, satiny sheets beneath your hands, only to find yourself alone in the vast bed. With a smile and a hint of grogginess, you realized that not even a rainy Saturday would keep Hiromi in bed past 10 am unless you physically held him down.” That man can’t stay still.”

When you look out the window to see the rain splattering over the glass, the smell hits your nostrils just in time. The chill of the outside air was making it slightly uncomfortable to stay in bed. Well. Uncomfortable to stay in bed alone.

Shuffling down the hall to the low-lit, sage-colored, sunflower-accented kitchen as your husband comes into view. Wearing a fitted knit tank top and pajama pants from a set you bought him years ago, he leaned against the kitchen counter. Dark hair was damp, and wispy strands were sticking together at the nape of his neck. Eagle eyes watch the waffle maker as if it’ll walk off if he even thinks about looking away.

He notices your outline at the doorway and turns to you, holding out his hand for you to come to him.

“The waffle maker? You’re pulling out the heavy artillery. Need any help?”

With a slight shake of his head, the corners of his mouth turn upright.

“Was going to bring it to you. You didn’t have to get up, darling.” He spoke warmly. Fingers hooked with his, the smell of his aftershave commingling with the scent of the dripping coffee nearby.

“I was getting cold.” He brings you closer on impulse, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back with a delicate touch. His embrace is familiar and inviting as he kisses your head. His steady breath encouraged a sense of cozy contentment.

“You looked quite comfortable. It would’ve been a crime to wake you. So I figured I’d make a simple breakfast we could enjoy in bed."

“You spoil me, Mr.Higuruma.”

“Oh, just you wait. I even have the berry syrup you love to have with them.”

Eyebrows raised now with just a hint of excitement. “What on earth am I going to do with you?” The ding of the waffle maker brings you two apart. He gives your forehead a soft peck before you reach the kitchen nook in the corner.

“Love me forever, of course.”

"And if you think that’s bad, she didn’t even update us. Just sent the files over to Nanami and left for her vacation.” His hand on your thigh, not keeping you from spilling your thoughts.

“Not even a concern about whether our workload was already maxing us out.” The golden brown waffles sat in front of you both, fragrant berry syrup dripping off the sides as you cut into the crispy cake, feeding another forkful to Hiromi, him happily receiving the food, chewing as you talked about the previous work day.

“I’m telling you, romi. The late nights because of her lack of care are becoming irksome. Either her boss gets her together, or I’m tying Mei Mei to a tractor-trailer by that stupid braid”. Hiromi observed you as you grabbed your coffee, the first sip taken with closed eyes. 4-second sip followed by a quick lick of your lip to catch the vanilla-flavored trickle. He always waited to make sure he had your coffee perfect before taking a sip of his own. Noticing his gaze, you move the mug from your lips.

“Honey, you okay?”

“Of course, darling.” He kissed your neck, then lips, the taste of the sweet syrup lingering. “Mei is being her usual half-ass self while you and Nanami work to improve her look.” Eyes now on you, he thumbs at your lips. “ You deserve the opportunity to tie her to that tractor-trailer.” The rich tone of his voice, followed by his lingering gaze, kept you from immediately replying. You instead smirk, sipping your coffee again.

“You know what I’m going to say, so I won’t say it.” That simpered smile you’ve loved from the beginning tugs at his cheeks, “But… whenever you decide to put the salary job down…”

“I know, Hiro..” the unyielding taps of rain on the glass filled the comfortable silence. Taking your fork and having a bite of the waffle, eyes closing for a moment. “Mmm”

His lips met yours in a soft kiss, his hands reaching to bring your legs to his lap.

“I don’t like seeing you stressed. Leave that type of nonsensical energy for me to work through.”

“And what do I do when you are overly stressed, my dear husband?” Reaching to glide the tip of your finger down his aquiline nose. A sigh of contentment huffed softly under your always tender touch.

The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the glass is soothing. droplets slide down the window in a slow, methodical movement, colliding with one another and forming larger droplets that glide down faster.

Your view through the rain-streaked window was now slightly obstructed, adding to the coziness of being inside. Hiromi forks another piece of waffle into his mouth, returning his attention to you and pushing the plate away.

“This. Simply be near me.” Dexterous fingers grip your thigh as his loving gaze approaches your face. “Be near me and maybe make the waffles next time. They don't taste like yours.”

“Nutmeg. And just a spill of heavy cream.”

“Nutmeg. You beautiful genius.”

The sound of the rain fills the air, the steady rhythm of the drops building a barrier around you, separating you from the world for the weekend. Whispers of affection and conversation as your forever coffee date share what he wants to do on your rainy weekend inside.

[panda-writes-kpop]

I'll give it to someone special ~ k. mj.

a/n: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! I wanted to have this fic out earlier but I was recovering from a nasty sinus infection the last few days that managed to travel into my lungs and give me a chest cold 🫠 it's all good though, this is the best I've felt in about a week so I'll take it. KATIE'S COMEBACK IS HERE EVERYONE RAHHH

tw: lots of food mentions, winter kind of breaks into your apartment?, mixed bag with angst and fluff so take it as you will, writing might be a bit rough around the edges since it's been three months

summary: the icy weather reminds me of your unstable "relationship" with Winter as you prepare for a Christmas party with friends. Little did you know that a late night visitor would settle your worries about Winter once and for all.

♡ Masterlist ♡

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…

You hum to yourself as you pull the Christmas cookies from your oven. The scent of pure sugary goodness, mixed with the gingerbread candle on your countertop, is enough to make you drool.

You usually weren’t this festive when it came to Christmas. With finals season being intertwined with the holiday, it was hard to be excited about Christmas when you’re trying to not cry over an exam. Throw a few retail shifts, and you quickly grow tired of the Christmas season.

But this year… something was different. You managed to get through finals season in one piece, and your place of work decided to shuffle some non-Christmas music into their season mix. 

…You still didn’t like All I Want for Christmas is You.

The lights on your Christmas tree seemed to shine brighter, illuminating the main showstoppers - the ornaments on your tree. One in particular catches your eye as you set the cookie tray down on two potholders. 

It’s a simple glass bulb in your favorite color with your name engraved in cursive letters. You remember finding it on the window sill outside of your apartment last year.

A light knock on your window makes you nearly jump out of your skin as you look up from your computer. You grumble because you were finally starting to get into the groove of studying, and your final was in two days - couldn’t this wait?

You tilt your head as you notice a small box on your window sill. Cautiously, you stand up and head towards the window as you inspect the box. 

It has small red and green shapes all over the box - definitely from a Christmas store, but who could have gotten something like this for you?

With a barely audible click, you open your window and grab the unexpected present, hoping that bombs don’t come in abnormally small packages.

As carefully as you can, you open the box to reveal an ornament inside.

Sugar cookies weren’t the most demanding treat to make, but they were a smash hit with your foodie friends. Add in some snickerdoodle cookies, your grandma’s famous chocolate chip cookies, some homemade rock candy, and a few other goodies, and you were a necessary addition to many of your friends’ Christmas parties.

This year, to save yourself the hassle (and a few broken cookies from the trip), you decided to host an intimate gathering with a few of your friends. Sure, your apartment wasn’t the biggest place, but you’d only have three guests.

Four, if you can count on a special someone coming your way.

With 48 hours to go, and plenty of baking to do, some late night baking was necessary to get everything done in time. As you watch the sun set (much earlier than it should), your mind wanders back to the ornament on your tree.

I know you bought that ornament for me. Minjeong.

~

Your phone buzzes as you concentrate on creating the perfect carrot nose for one of the sugar cookies. You don’t break concentration until it buzzes again, which makes you give your snowman an orange tongue that’s somehow connected to his stubby nose.

“Sorry, bud, we can’t all be perfect…” You mutter to yourself before setting the frosting down and picking up your phone.

You don’t recognize the phone number, but the text messages seem oddly familiar.

On my way! Don’t stay up late for me. <3

It’s already past 9 o’clock, and you’re only done with a small portion of the sweet treats you have to make, so it’s probably going to be a late night anyway… and you were terrible at listening to others.

Maybe that’s why the two of you never worked out?

There was something sweet in rebellion, besides the wonderland of baked goods that sat in your kitchen. You never were a rebellious teen, for one reason or another, so you liked to do rebellious things like stay up late, order junk food, and binge watch TV until three in the mornings.

…There’s a reason why Giselle calls you and Karina the losers of your friend group.

“C’mon, go drinking with us!” Giselle throws her arm around your shoulder, completely ignoring the way Winter tenses up at the action. “It’s no fun to eat take-out alone and rewatch the same show again and again.”

You feel the need to defend yourself as Winter’s piercing eyes meet yours for a minute before she looks away. The frown on her face neutralizes into a more aloof expression as you study her further.

“For the record, I don’t rewatch shows that often.” You say as Ningning narrows her eyes at you.

“What are you watching right now?”

“Okay, that’s besides the point!” You fold your arms after teasingly brushing Giselle’s arm off your shoulder. 

“One night can’t hurt, right?” Giselle elbows your arm before continuing to march down the street. “First round’s on me!”

You sigh while choosing to pinch the bridge of your nose instead of trying to fight against your friends’ plans. They had good intentions, trying to bring you out of your comfort zone, but you’d much rather cut this meeting short. Partially because you want to go home, and partially because Karina’s absence made the tension between you and Winter so much more palpable.

~

The small timer next to your oven happily dings as you finally shut the oven off for the night. Although you weren’t completely done, at least everything that needed to be baked was baked tonight. You could frost and assemble everything in the morning, after you had a bit of sleep and a break from the repetitive Christmas music coming from your music speakers. 

You quickly turn the dial back to zero on the timer before pulling the last round of cookies from your oven. With the sickening sweet smell of chocolate chips invading your nose, you set the cookies aside as you glance around your kitchen.

I just need to let these cookies cool, do a few dishes, and then box everything up so the gnats stay out of my sweets.

Checking the time, your shoulders slump as you notice that it’s two-thirty in the morning - where did the time go?

Good thing you don’t have work early tomorrow; otherwise, you’d probably call off. 

Winter would scold me for doing that.

You chuckle at the thought - Minjeong would scold you for calling her Winter, saying it was “too formal for our relationship”.

Our relationship? What relationship could she be talking about?

Winter was your friend, just as Ningning, Giselle, and Karina were, but you two often stretched the definition of the word “friend” to its limits.

“Winter-” Your back meets the wall as Winter places two hands on either side of your head, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“I want you.” Her posture seems harsh, but her voice softens as one of her hands leaves the wall to caress your face.

She’s giving you an out - you could slip out of this situation if you wanted to. You could rejoin the party like nothing happened.

But you can’t pretend like nothing happened. Not when you’re with her.

“I want you too.” Breathless, a shaky hand beyond the control of your rational thoughts reaches out and pulls Winter closer to you.

With her face so close to yours, you press your lips against hers.

Yet words like situationship and friends-with-benefits seem too… distant for the two of you. They imply a lack of connection and romance, which definitely doesn’t seem to describe the two of you.

Unless buying flowers and intimate gifts for each other could just be seen as a friendly gesture.

“I bought you these.” You present the bundle of flowers to Minjeong, as if you were a nervous pre-teen who was trying to impress your crush.

“Oh… thanks.” Her hands ghost over yours as you pass the bouquet to her. 

The lack of emotion on her face causes you to panic as you grab one of her wrists.

“If you don’t like them, I can always return them, or get some different flowers-”

“They’re lovely,” Winter interrupts you, “but I didn’t think we were close enough for gifts.”

You fake a warm, innocent smile as your brittle heart starts to crack under your false expectations of Winter.

Icy memories aside, it was time to let your mind and body rest as you made sure that the oven was turned off and the cookies were correctly sealed away-

Tap! Tap!

Luckily, nothing was in your hands as you jumped at the sound of something tapping against your window.

“Damn bird,” You mutter under your breath, “I’m going to murder Karina for feeding you.”

With the fluffiest slippers, and in your finest Christmas pajamas, you stomp through your living room to handle the avian problem that’s still tapping on your window.

When you approach the window, your birdy frenemy is missing from the window; instead, a familiar face stares back at you.

Against your better judgement, you throw the window open and offer her your hand.

“Winter? How the fuck-” You pause as she takes your hand and tries to crawl into your apartment.

“Don’t ask.” Her voice is raspy from the cold as she manages to enter your apartment. “Why did you get a third-story apartment?”

“Why did you climb up to my third-story apartment?” You stare at her, dumfounded, as Winter carefully closes the window behind her.

She freezes before turning around and shrugging her shoulders.

“I missed you?”

You pause before laughing to yourself.

“You could’ve called, Minjeong! That’s what normal people do!” You gently scold her as she rubs her arms to stay warm.

“I sent a text your way. Did you get it?” 

“Ah, so that’s who sent me that message.” A tiny smile appears on your lips as she lets out a small breath of relief.

“You’re not mad?”

“At you? Never.” You smile before suddenly becoming aware of the state of your apartment. “Sorry, this place is a mess. I’ve been baking all day, and I didn’t have any time to clean.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll help you clean up before the party.” Winter casually brushes by you to grab a pillow from your couch as you stare at her in disbelief.

“Minjeong, do you know what time it is? Scratch that, do you know what day it is?”

“Yeah, it’s the 25th - Merry Christmas, by the way - and the party’s in about twelve hours. I thought I’d help you clean up before everyone else came.”

You fold your arms as a small smile appears on your face.

“It’s the 24th.”

She stops fluffing up the pillow and turns her head towards you.

“Really?” Winter tilts her head, confused for a moment, before continuing her task. “Well, that gives me more time to help you.”

“You can’t be serious!” You follow her every movement as she appears to gracefully dance around your couch and guide your decorations back into their rightful places. “You need to sleep, as do I.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m ready to.” She brushes you off again as you feel your frustration beginning to build.

“What compelled you to see me at this hour?”

“I told you that I missed you.” With that same unreadable expression, she gently sets a Christmas teddy bear against your Christmas tree. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s enough when your actions match your words, Winter.” The words slip out of your mouth, callous and cold and completely unlike you.

Her expression sours as she looks at you.

“What did you say?” 

You shyly look away as your frustration melts under her scrutinizing gaze. You were never good at standing up for yourself in front of her, but how could you let your heart fracture again and again as you dance in this endless “will-you-won’t-you” limbo with her?

“I’m tired of doing this with you. We flirt and tease and kiss but it never leads anywhere.” 

It feels good to let your frustrations out, as you’re usually letting yourself melt into her embrace every time you’ve thought this in your head before. Although you’re not opposed to the night ending that way, you want to hear her say something first.

“Ah, so that’s what you meant.” Winter slowly walks towards you, but stops a few inches short of your reach. 

She offers you her hand, an olive branch that you’re not familiar with, but you don’t take it right away.

“I want to hear you say it.” Your voice softens as you stare into her eyes.

“That I love you? I thought that was obvious - did the gifts not express my love for you? Do you want me to show you that I love you in a different way?”

“I just want to be yours, Minjeong. Sure, I’m affectionate and friendly with the other girls, but I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else since I met you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just can’t keep doing… whatever this is anymore.” You pause to take a shaky breath. “I love you.”

You gently take her hand, which she immediately brings to her lips.

“I.” She presses a kiss to your hand before gently pulling you forward.

Her other hand cups your face as her lips meet your cheek. 

“Love.”

Her hand leaves your hand and lands on your waist instead.

“You.”

Her lips meet yours, and you don’t hesitate to kiss her back.

The taste of sweet liquor, dangerous and fruity and addictive, hits your tongue as you attempt to memorize her taste for good.

It feels like every time I kiss her will be the last - isn’t that sad?

When you break away from her, you’re left breathless as a small smirk appears on her face.

“Is that enough to convince you that I love you?”

“Yup.” You sigh, completely and utterly lost in her world.

She could tell you sweet little lies, honey-coated false promises, and you’d believe every word. 

She was the gospel, and you were the truest believer.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like you’re not important. I know you’re busy with university, so I always thought that you wanted to wait. I never, ever met to push you away.” Winter’s hand leaves your face and intertwines with yours.

“I… should apologize too, for not expressing myself earlier.” You squeeze her hand in reassurance. “And thank you for leaving me that ornament a year ago.”

“You knew it was me?” Winter looks bewildered as you try to hide your laughter. 

“Of course I did - who else would do something like that for me?”

“I-” She pauses before shaking her head. “Of course you did. You’re much smarter than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Ah, stop, you’re making me flustered!” You playfully push her away before her hands reach out to grab you again.

“C’mon, don’t tease me like this.” She nearly begs as she glances at a picture on a nearby shelf. “Otherwise I won’t take you on a date this Sunday~”

“Wait a minute,” You immediately grab onto her arm, “you’re serious?”

“I am. We have to make it official, after all.”

You give Minjeong the biggest smile before wrapping your arms around her torso.

“Thank you for everything. I’m glad you stopped by today, even if you didn’t come through the door.”

“You’re not going to tell the others about that, are you?” She looks concerned as you impishly laugh. 

“Oh, you know I will.” You gently tap her nose before pulling her in for another kiss.