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i don't do bad sauce passes
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@nyoomk
select your character : trigun edition
So me and Moth had another dumb idea...
cw: nsfw ;)
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these two is the type of therapy i never thought i needed
edit bc i forgot to render greg's glasses. i'm gonna kmssss
oddly intertwined
Inside a thief's pockets | Prints
rolangelica, middle drip
adds odxny to the dress collection
Nanami Kento x Fem!Baker Reader angst MCD :DDD
YES! STOP THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PARING RAAA!!!! If you haven't gotten to know who we are don't be shy here is our "༺☆༻ Introduction ༺☆༻"
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Recipe for Connection
Word Count: 968
Warnings: None
Nanami Kento x Fem!Baker!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
The bakery was a haven of warmth and the sweet aroma of baked goods, a stark contrast to the cold precision of Nanami’s usual world. The kitchen, usually a place of creative joy, had transformed into an arena where two very different disciplines clashed.
“You’re doing it all wrong,” Nanami’s voice cut through the air, sharp as the knives that lay forgotten on the counter. “God, could you stir any slower?”
You paused, spoon mid-stir in the thick batter, and raised an eyebrow at him. “You try this then!” The challenge was clear in your voice, a dare for him to step into your world.
Nanami accepted the spoon with a skeptical look, his movements meticulous and calculated. To your chagrin, he stirred the mixture with a finesse that belied his inexperience. You watched, torn between annoyance at his smug expression and a begrudging respect for his adaptability.
The kitchen was alive with the sounds of your culinary battle—the sizzle of the pan, the clink of utensils, and the occasional frustrated sigh from Nanami as he encountered yet another baking enigma. The tension was palpable, a tangible thing that danced between you and threatened to explode.
Then, amidst the chaos, Nanami’s composure slipped. A hiss of pain as he touched the hot pan, and you were at his side in an instant, your concern washing over the irritation of moments before. “Here, let me see,” you murmured, running his finger under cool water, the domesticity of the act softening the edges of your earlier spat.
“Did you wash those?” you asked, nodding towards the vegetables he’d been about to chop.
“…Of course,” he lied, and you rolled your eyes at the transparent falsehood, a smile tugging at your lips despite the situation.
The kitchen was a cozy mess, flour dusting the countertops and a myriad of utensils scattered about. The soft light from the overhead lamps bathed the room in a warm glow, contrasting sharply with the biting chill that seeped in through the cracks of the old windows. The clash of your personalities echoed in the clatter of dishes and the frustrated huffs of breath, yet there was a strange harmony to it all—a dance of opposites finding a rhythm.
Nanami’s usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled, a streak of flour on his cheek, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. You couldn’t help but steal glances, appreciating the rare sight of him out of his element, struggling yet determined.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” you said softly, a moment of genuine connection breaking through the tension. “I know you’re busy.”
“I wanted to,” he replied, his tone softer than before. “I wanted to see what your world is like.”
A truce seemed to settle between you as you worked together, your movements more in sync. You offered a spoonful of the sauce to his lips, a gesture meant to be sweet, a bridge over troubled waters. But the universe had other plans, and the sauce was scalding, the heat of it a mirror to the heat of the moment. You both winced, and laughter bubbled up, breaking the tension.
The meal, somehow, came together—a testament to your combined efforts. You set the table with mismatched plates and utensils, the casual setting a stark contrast to Nanami’s usual meticulous nature. As you both sat down to eat, the silence was filled with an unspoken understanding, a mutual respect forged in the fires of the kitchen.
“So we agree we’re not attempting this again, right?” you said, leaning back in your chair, exhaustion seeping into your bones.
“Not for a long while,” Nanami agreed, and there was a comfort in that shared decision, a silent acknowledgment of the day’s trials and tribulations.
Halfway through the ordeal, you caught Nanami with his phone out, a guilty look on his face as he placed an order for delivery. “You’re serious? We’re working our asses off here and you ordered chicken,” you couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of it all too much.
“We had a rough start, okay? I thought we would have given up by now,” he said, and you shook your head, amused and a little bit impressed by his foresight.
The cleanup was a dance, a choreography of two people moving in sync, finding fun in the mundane. The kitchen, once a battlefield, was now a stage, and you both played your parts with a joy that was infectious. The clink of dishes being washed and the hum of the kitchen appliances became a symphony of domesticity, a song of two hearts finding a rhythm.
But the next day, the laughter was gone, replaced by groans of discomfort as you both lay in bed, victims of your own culinary hubris. Food poisoning was the final, cruel punchline to the joke that had been the previous day’s cooking attempt.
Yet, even as you both suffered, there was a camaraderie in the shared misery, a bond forged in the fires of the kitchen and cemented in the aftermath. It was a day of rest, of recovery, and of silent promises to stick to what you knew best—baking for you, and for Nanami, well, anything but cooking.
As you lay there, the remnants of your culinary misadventure fading into the background, you turned to Nanami, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Next time, you’re staying out of my kitchen.”
He chuckled, his hand finding yours under the covers. “Deal. But I expect some baked goods as compensation.”
“Always,” you replied, the warmth of his touch a comfort against the lingering discomfort. The trials of the kitchen had tested your patience and your partnership, but in the end, it had brought you closer, the shared experience a testament to your growing bond.
The Quiet Gamer and His Lively Muse
Word Count: 822
Warnings: None
Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
In the cafeteria, where students gathered in their own little cliques, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and the sound of laughter. Kenma Kozume sat at their usual table, his eyes on his game console, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for her.
She arrived like a burst of sunlight, her energy immediately drawing the eyes of their friends. “Morning, Kenma!” she greeted, her greeting becoming a familiar and endearing start to their mornings.
Kenma looked up, his smile widening. “Morning,” he replied, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “You’re in a good mood today.”
She laughed, setting down her tray next to his. “I am! I aced that math test we studied for,” she said, her pride evident in her voice.
Their friends at the table cheered, and she beamed at them, her happiness infectious. “Thanks to Kenma’s tutoring,” she added, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.
As they settled into their breakfast, she broke off a piece of her croissant and held it out to him. “Try this,” she said, her voice soft but insistent.
Kenma accepted the bite, his eyes never leaving her face. “It’s good,” he admitted, and she grinned, pleased with his approval.
They ate in comfortable silence, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background. She reached out to brush a crumb from his cheek, her touch gentle. Kenma’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t pull away.
She took care of him in ways that were subtle yet significant. Before they’d step out into the chill of the morning, she’d zip up his jacket, her fingers working the zipper with an ease that came from many mornings spent together. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” she’d say, her voice laced with concern.
Kenma, for all his quiet nature, found her clinginess endearing. It was a contrast to his own reserved personality, but it was a contrast that brought balance to his life. The volleyball team would chuckle at their interactions, teasing Kenma with a nudge or a wink. But he didn’t mind. If anything, he found comfort in their acceptance.
As they walked to class, she clung to his arm, her presence a constant source of comfort. Their friends would tease, calling out, “Kenma’s got his own personal heater!”
Kenma would only roll his eyes, but the truth was, he didn’t mind. Her energy balanced his quiet nature, and he found himself looking forward to these moments.
Throughout the day, they were a unit. She’d rest her head on his shoulder as they looked over notes, and he’d find excuses to brush his lips against her forehead or the tip of her nose, small gestures that spoke volumes. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the colors of dusk settled over the city, they remained on the rooftop, the world below them a symphony of lights and shadows. She was still leaning against him, her warmth seeping into his side, and he felt a contentment that was rare in the hustle of his daily life.
“Sometimes,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “I wonder what it would be like if we’d never met. If I’d never transferred here.”
Kenma turned to look at her, his expression serious. “Don’t,” he said softly. “I don’t like thinking about that.”
She smiled, a gentle curve of her lips that held a world of meaning. “Me neither,” she admitted. “I guess I just wanted to say… I’m grateful. For you.”
He didn’t respond with words, but his hand found hers, fingers intertwining as he pulled her closer. The sky above them was now a canvas of deep blues and purples, the first stars beginning to twinkle into existence.
“You know,” Kenma said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’ve changed a lot of things for me. Made them better.”
She rested her head back on his shoulder, her eyes closing as she savored the feeling of being there with him. “You’ve done the same for me,” she replied.
They stayed like that as the evening grew deeper, the noise of the city rising up to them. It was a reminder that life was moving on around them, but in that moment, on that rooftop, time seemed to stand still.
Eventually, they would have to go back down, to rejoin the world and all its demands. But for now, they had this peaceful interlude, this shared space where they could just be together.
As they finally stood to leave, Kenma leaned down and kissed her, a soft press of lips that was a promise of all the days to come. She responded in kind, her hands coming up to cradle his face, and when they parted, they were both smiling.
“Let’s do this again tomorrow,” she said, her voice filled with hope.
“Tomorrow,” Kenma agreed, and they walked down from the rooftop hand in hand, the night wrapping around them like a promise.
i need odxny in a way thatd make horses not be called horses anymore
wnpep
what does that mean
elimf
LMAO
incri
EW???
elimf
WHAT DO YOU MEAN EW
incri
WHT
WHAT DO /YOU/ MEAN?? ?
elimf
IM JUST
incri
DISGUSTN??
elimf
WHAT
odxny
wnpep
thrim please respond
@glitching-out-common
Oh because this isn’t you too
Never said it wasn't :)
we're in this together you cannot escape
Goes for you too you conniving little rat
You’re the one who got me into this mess you sure ain’t getting out (:
What is this vibe
goodnight
someone needs to make like an inverse of seekl where we romance thrim as odxny cuz why were so charming hello???
[5.15]
PRAYER FOR LOVING SORROW
ahhh guys watch out its roland bateman
happy valentine
I will use the element of cry