Now We’re Cooking!

═ ✰ ═ ✮ Here's The Recipe! ✮ ═ ✰ ═

Fandoms- Reverse: 1999, Identity V, Dungeon Meshi, Bungou Stray Dogs, Fear and Hunger, Chainsaw Man, Food Fantasy, Danganronpa, etc etc! What I Write- Headcanons, X Reader, Ships What I Don't Write- NSFW, fetishes, kinks (on this blog, nsfw maybe in the future?), proship stuff Favorite Stuff To Write- FxF, au's, trans headcanons, angst, platonic pairings, GIRLS!!!!!!!!! Rules! ↪ No NSFW requests! ↪ No discourse! ↪ Be kind and patient! ↪ I can decline any request I do not wish to do! ↪ Any potential triggers will be tagged as- tw: thing ↪ Have fun :] Tags!

Let's Make Friend Soup! - General Writing Order Up! - Request Kitchen Banter - Musing, talking, Pal's blabbers Looks Tasty! - Reblogs

Dikke

Sick Day with Dikke A Misunderstanding Acts of Service Cultural Differences Conflicting Alliance (Vampire Reader) Acquired Taste (Vampire Reader p2)

Medicine Pocket

Boo-Boos Kitties and Puppies Relationship HC Scared Headcanons Did You Forget?

Tennant

Horror Movie Night Workplace Randevu In Your Arms, Again

Vertin

Brave the Storm

Ezra

A Good First Step (Transmale Reader)

Зима

A Poem for You

Tooth Fairy

Sweet Reunion

Pavia

Office Overload

Blonney

Horror Movie Night

Argus

Southern Nights

Group

Medicine Pocket and Dikke: Sober Thoughts Medicine Pocket and Dikke: Sober Thoughts p2 Medicine Pocket and Dikke: A Quiet Moment Dikke and Tennant: Your Strength Medi, Dikke, Blonney: Haircuts Voyager and Medicine Pocket: Non-Confessional Confessions Medi, Tennant, Getian: Kissing Headcanons

It’s been a fortnight since you pledged your allegiance to the Supreme Justice. Signing off your dignity in exchange for your life. You had expected your arrangement to become more comfortable. A loosening of the chains that bound you, or something to feed on while you walked. But it seemed Dikke was as cruel as she was beautiful. 

At least she had honored your request.

No longer were you two surrounded by the village of idiots she called soldiers. She had instructed them to purge the west, while the two of you headed east towards grander pastures. Hungary is where you were headed, through the Germanic Empire. A trek you had told her would take little over six months. You had honestly thought she’d give up the chase after hearing of the journey ahead. You had personally come from Hungary by boat, and even then the travel was terrible. But she was hearty, and more stubborn than you liked. The moment she had a direction, she began to walk. Pulling you along by your bindings.

You had no desire to return to your homeland. You’d made quite a nice life for yourself in France, dining on noblemen and the finest wine they had hoarded away. You fancied yourself somewhat of a politician as well, dipping your fingers into local squabbles, and pulling back fist fulls of gold. But the woman ahead of you squashed any notion that things would go back to the way it was. Her fierce glare pierced through you any time you suggested going back.

“You’re slowing.” Dikke growled, her icy gaze catching you off guard.

“I’m tired, ma puce,” A phrase you meant literally. She was certainly a flea, as annoying as she was life sucking. “Can’t I ride on the horse?” Dikke let out a snort at that. “Last time I allowed you on his back, you attempted to take a bite from him. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.”

“Ugh!” You whined. “It’s not fair. You eat every day. But when I complain of hunger!”

“I offered you a meal, and you declined.”

“You offered me a rat! Istenem! You’re impossible!”

“Food is food. If you were truly hungry, you wouldn’t mind.”

“You are cruel! You sit and eat deer, with herbs and vegetables. Drinking mead from the villages you pass. And you cast me aside! Offer me rats and vulture food. Make me stand outside the limits of civilization, while you eat like a pig!” You huff.

“The one village I’ve been in was sparse. They hardly had anything worth eating. Had I taken you with me, you would have gorged yourself on the people.”

“Is that so bad?” You cry. “Everything needs to eat! You wouldn’t be punished for it in the slightest! They’re isolated, you’d never see them again!”

“I could not call myself the Supreme Justice if I allowed such terrible crimes to take place.”

“So you can still call yourself it while you allow your ally to starve?”

Dikke freezes. She turns her head to you, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “You are not my ally. You are my prisoner. And I can relieve you of your duty whenever I see fit.”

“Then do it. Kill me! It’d be better to be decapitated than to slowly starve away!”

For a second, Dikke’s eyes grow unreadable. Your heart quickens, as you imagine her pulling out her sword. And you, helpless to stop it, breathe your final breath. Her grip tightens on the hilt, and you tense. Preparing for an impact, the tension electrifying the air.

“You’re hungry.” She says, finally.

“Yes.” You force out, taken off guard by her hesitation.

Dikke rolls up her sleeve, holding her arm out to you.

“Then drink.” She commands.

“You’re serious?” You whisper, slowly bridging the gap between the two of you. 

She nods, slowly. Sure of herself, despite the fear beginning to cloud her scent. You take her hand, running your soft fingers down her coarse and weathered skin, before pressing your lips against her wrist. At once, you feel a blade press against your neck. Not deep enough to cut, but enough to be uncomfortable.

You understand. She doesn’t trust you. This is her way of ensuring you don’t take more than what you’re offered. But there’s no need. You don’t intend to.

You sink your fangs into her skin, and at once your mouth is full of coppery blood. You can taste the adrenaline coursing through her veins, all her apprehension and stress clouding the flavor. It’s a fine wine, better than anything you had in France. Dry and sour, an acquired taste for sure. You feel the blade against your neck begin to tremble, and when your eyes float up to meet Dikke, the sight is more than heavenly.

Her face is flushed, her breath heavy. It’s the most unkempt you’ve ever seen her. She’s always so serious, so stern. To see her reduced to this, it’s more divine than the taste on your tongue. You smile, pulling yourself from her skin, before pressing a soft kiss to the bite mark. Your hunger is satiated. In more ways than one.

“B-Better?” She stutters out.

“Far better, ma puce. I was only bitter because I was starved.”

She gives an agreeing hum, before shoving her sleeve back down and turning away. You can still see tints of red linger on her ears as she begins to walk, pulling you along.

It’s quite the night.

Despite it being mid-February, it was only 41° in the desert. Chilly enough for a sweater and blanket, but nothing like the northern winds you were used to. You’ve travelled all over the world, to places in the far corners of the Earth. But never have you seen a night like the ones in the middle of Texas. The orange sand seemed to spread on forever, with cacti and ferns peppering the hills. 

With how dry the desert was, it became hard to picture that there was an ocean somewhere out there. Far beyond the canyons and coyotes. You heard, once, that the desert was an ocean itself. That all this was filled with salt water and fishes. That it was dried a million years ago, leaving nothing but it’s bones.

“Here you are, sweetpea.” Argus says, pushing a cup filled with something warm into your hands. “Drink up, it’ll warm ya. It’sa cold one tonight.” She takes a seat next to you, close enough that your shoulders barely brush against each other.

The fire across from you two dances, providing warmth and something to look at while you talk. You want to tell her that this isn’t real cold, that you’ve endured things that’d send a chill to her bone, but you decide against it. It’s not worth it, really.

“What is it?” You ask, breathing in the steam. The cup burns your hands, but you press them closer to the metal, hoping to sap all the warmth from it. 

“Try it first, then I’ll tell ya.” Argus gives a lopsided smirk to you, wrinkles forming on the ends of her eyes as she smiles. When you raise an eyebrow to her, she pauses. “It’s nothing alcoholic. Or fishy. It’s good, trust me.” She pleads, looking expectantly at you.

It’s not that you don’t trust her, it’s just that you don’t trust her good taste. She’s gone on trails far longer than this, and has had to scarf down food far more sketchy than what you’d trust eating. She may have put dirt into a cup, boiled some water, and stirred the two together. She’d probably drink it all the same.

But with her look growing more eager, you surrender. Pressing your lips to the edge of the cup, and drinking in.

It’s coffee. A lot weaker than she usually makes it though, and paired with something else. Something sweet that mixes effortlessly with the bitterness of the drink. “Chocolate.” You say aloud.

“Now, it’s nothing fancy. I know it can’t compare to what you city slickers must drink by the gallon. That so-called coffee filled with sugar and syrups of all types. It’s just ground coffee mixed with hot chocolate. But it’s what we got, so I ain’t hearing any complaints.”

“It’s wonderful, Argus.” You give her a smile, so she knows your words are genuine. She looks to you, almost shocked that you’re enjoying something she made. But that quickly breaks, her normal smile returning, and the tension falling out of her.

“Well good. I’m glad you like it, cuz I’ve got a whole pot, and I ain’t finishing it by myself.” She huffs. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” You ask, lowering the cup into your lap.

“Hoo-ey detective, they don’t call you Sherlock for nothin’, huh?” Argus’s sarcasm brings out a laugh from you. “What tipped ya in on that little clue?”

“You’ve been on edge all day, almost as if you were waiting for me to say something. Every time we spoke, you’d get all flustered. And now, you’ve given me chocolate. In an unconventional form, yes. But still, a show of affection all the same.” You reply, giving a hum of satisfaction.

Argus lowers her hat, trying to hide her good eye. “Not the fact that it’s February fourteenth?”

“February fourteenth is just another day. It’s only Valentine’s Day if you celebrate it.” You state matter of factly. 

“Yeah?” Argus’s good eye looks you once over. “And are we celebrating it, detective?”

You weren’t expecting such confrontation. You give a small jump, holding on tight to your cup. The two of you have been on the trail for only a week now. With another week till you meet your destination. You hadn’t given a thought to romance before your little case together. It was something you came to her with, something you couldn’t go at alone. And though she stated that she had it covered, you insisted to go with her. You couldn’t leave it fully in her hands.

Over the last week, the two of you have grown close. Far closer than you would have ever thought. She’s kind hearted, funny, and has a wild but wise nature to her that you’ve grown well accustomed to. 

But after the case is solved, what will happen? Will the two of you simply return to your lives? She’s only just entered yours, but now you couldn’t picture it without her. The thought of leaving makes you nauseous. 

Your eyes make their way to the sky. To the endless abyss populated by nothing but bright lights, painting the sky in impossible colors. You were told once that the stars up there are far, far away. So far that their light only meets Earth long after they’ve died.

“Yes, I believe we are.” You push your shoulders together, bridging the gap made between you two. Argus smiles, before pushing back at you. The two of you playfully tossing soft jabs at each other. She breaks the silence by laughing, and you follow suit.

“Yer awfully pretty when you laugh.” Argus comments. “Like someone in a movie.”

“Movie, huh? Like a Western?” 

“Sure.” Argus shrugs.

“That makes you my heroic rugged cowboy, then.” You tease. “With a hard stare and a heart of gold.”

“My my.” Argus gives another hearty chuckle. “You give me too much credit.” You lean in closer, and then Argus follows. The two of you are so close, you can see the individual etchings of her scar. You raise a hand off your cup, tracing the scar with your thumb gently. She lets you, leaning into it.

“I’ve given you sugar, now mind givin’ me something sweet?” She mutters, you can feel her breath on your lips.

You kiss her. In the bones of what was once an ocean, in the light of what were once brilliant stars.

It was quiet at home without your girlfriend. 

You’d always been more of a homebody, and she was ever the socialite. This led to most of the tension in your relationship, with situations where you wanted to go home, and she wanted to stay out. You felt bad, how could you not? It felt like you were dimming her sparkle. Every time you tugged her sleeve like a kid pleading with their mother, begging her to say goodbye so you could share the ride home.

She always looked so happy with her friends. There was a light in her eyes, an aura about her that sparkled whenever she was engrossed in conversation. You don’t know if she looked that way when she spoke to you. You’d get too sidetracked by the conversation to focus on her body language. The two of you were quite passionate people, after all. When you began talking, it was as if the entire world had been shut out.

And here you were, alone on the couch. You curled up in the corner, staring at the dark screen of the tv. You missed her. She was the sun, and you? Were just some guy.

“Babe, you mind opening the door? I got my hands full.” The familiar voice of Blonney shook you from your wistful gazing. You perked up immediately, running to help her with the door. 

“As promised, lunch is served.” She said with a smile, handing you a bag of your favorite fast food. She had one of her own, with a cup holder filled with drinks for the both of you. “God, you would not believe the mobs out there. You would have hated it.” She started, trotting her way to the couch. She placed her food on the table, beginning to sort through it. 

“Busy, yeah? For the holiday.” You awkwardly muttered, taking the seat next to her.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! Here, sauce.” She tosses you a few packets of sauce, which you accept graciously. “You’d think the mall was fuckin’ Mecca! The way people crowded around it.”

“You went to the one in the mall?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at Blonney. There were plenty of other chains dotted around town, some closer than the mall. It was certainly an odd choice.

“Duuuuuh,” She popped a straw in her drink. “That’s your favorite one, isn’t it? They always give a little extra if you wink at them.” She recalls.

A bit of heat enters your cheeks. She’s right. That is your favorite one. The workers are always nice there, and they do give out favorable portions. The foods the same no matter where you go, though. Did Blonney go through all that just because it’s your favorite?

“Did you pick out a movie, by the way?” She asks. 

You nod. “Dead Girls. The one from a few years ago.” You point to the VHS on the table, a bit away from your food.

“Wait, really?!” She perks up. “The one that I’ve been talking about, like, forever? The one about the Metal Band?”

Suddenly feeling a bit shy, you retreat back to your corner. “The people at Blockbuster had to order it, but they managed to find a copy. I had to pay a little extra, but I had it covered.” You explain, pulling your knees to your chest.

She looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, before springing a hug on you. “Awee, babe! You shouldn’t have! That’s like, the sweetest thing ever.”

“It’s nothing.” You argue. “I was going to show you right away, but it arrived on the twelfth, and I thought it’d be better for a Valentine's date.”

“You romantic, you!” She teases. You simply shrug, and turn back to your food. Finally mustering the hunger to take a bite. “Well, come on then, pop it in! Let’s get this!”

You start getting up, before pausing.

The guilt and shame from before starting to rise again. Blonney’s a beautiful girl, not to mention she’s someone used to the finer things in life. Was this really an OK way for her to spend her Valentines day? Eating fast food on the couch while watching a slasher? She should be at some fancy dinner, or maybe a bar. With someone as social as her, talking the night away. 

Noticing your hesitance, she speaks. “Everything alright, hun?” 

You bite your lip, forcing back a white lie. You should be honest with her, for the sake of the relationship, and for her Valentine's day. If she doesn’t want to be here, you don’t want her to feel forced.

“Are you… happy?” You bumble out, staring down at your feet.

“Like, right now? Or with my life?”

“About this. About us.” You peep. You can’t believe you’re talking to her like this, your fragile confidence trembling at the thought of her reply.

She leans over, lifting up your face.

Only to blow the end of your straw wrapper into your face.

“Stop playing around, of course I’m happy! Why wouldn’t I be? I get to spend a great holiday with a great person, eating great food and watching a great movie!”

“But wouldn’t you be happier around your friends? Around people who know how to talk? Around people who are… y’know?” “Not socially awkward?” She teases.

“Yes! Exactly!” You give a nod.

Blonney laughs, as if your anxieties are the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “No! What? Not at all! Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and all, but they pale in comparison to you.”

You blink, not believing her in the slightest.

“You’re… different. Nerdy, certainly. Extremely so. But that’s what I like about you. You’re so honest about your interests, about what and who you are. It lets me feel safe around you. Like I can let my guard down and be myself, without worrying that you’re secretly judging me for everything I say.” She giggles. “You’ve also got this… passion. A light in your eyes when you talk about something you like, your aura it just… sparkles. The conversations I have with you, whether they’re about horror, or some new video game, or a fact you heard somewhere. They always feel so new and exciting. I’ve learned so much from you. About the world, and myself.” She gazes off as she finishes her sentence, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Who’s the romantic now, Bonbon?” You tease, crumpling up the straw wrapper and tossing it back at her.

“Hey! I was being serious!” She laughs.

You stand, taking hold of the VHS, and moving to pop it into the tv.

It’d been so long since you had a day off. Sure you had the weekends to yourself, but only barely. There was so much housework to be done in your tiny apartment. So many bills to pay, so many things to clean. It seemed like those two measly days a week went by in the blink of an eye. Leaving you more tired than when you came in. 

But here you were, free as a bird on the most romantic day of the year. You’d spent half the morning preparing yourself for the night, doing your hair and painting on makeup. The other half was spent on your outfit, which you still didn’t feel completely comfortable in. It was a bit out there, showing off skin in places you weren’t used to showing off. Your gal friends had recommended the dress, even offered to help pay for it. 

If you want to find love, you’ve got to show off the goods.

That’s what they told you at least.

You had love though. At one point. A certain blonde jeweler, who came in and out of your life as she pleased. Despite all your nights longing for her, she hadn’t shown her face in your city for six months. It was the longest you’ve gone without seeing her, and you were beginning to grow resentful.

You could imagine all the girls she was seeing, all across the world. All the hands she was holding, kisses she was giving away. It felt wrong, this jealousy. The two of you weren’t even an item. But you couldn’t help losing sleep over the girl you couldn’t keep.

That was in the past now, you were sure. Now you’re smarter, stronger. You were going to find someone that actually stayed in your bed past morning. Someone who really cared.

You gave a last spritz of perfume, inhaling the floral scent. It was a homemade brand, a friend of yours made with her own garden’s flowers. You weren’t usually the type for perfume, but you wanted to hide that smell of shame that'd been sticking to you since Tennant left.

You were a brand new person now.

You marched to the door, swinging it open with full confidence, only to stop in your tracks.

The woman on the other side seemed just as shocked to see you.

And all too familiar. 

“T-Tennant?” You whimpered. Now this was a cruel joke. You were just talking big game about getting over here, and here she was. In the flesh. “Heya, doll.” She muttered back, rubbing the back of her neck with a gloved hand. She looked tired, there were clear eye bags under those piercing red eyes of hers. Her normally well groomed hair was frizzy, down and out of it’s normal loose ponytail. Even her clothes, which she always took great care of, were disheveled. There was a clear lack of ironing, and she was missing that iconic annoying hat she wore wherever she went. “What’s cracking?” “Why- I!” You puff out your chest. “I ought to knock you on the kisser! You’ve got some nerve, showin’ your face round here, after you left me high and dry for months! I swear, you must be daft or somethin’! Don’t you know how much heartache you left me in? I-I!” Tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes, which you quickly stifle. You don’t want to cry, not now, not in front of her.

“You’re right.” She says dryly. Her tone catches you off guard, with just how hollow she sounds. “I left you, and that wasn’t right of me. Darling, I’m sorry. More sorry than I’ve ever been in my life.” She takes a step towards you, lifting a hand to your face. “You’ve got to believe me when I say-” She pauses, and sniffs the air.

“What’s that?” She asks, leaning into your neck.

“What’s what?” You reply confused, placing your hands on her shoulders. You don’t want her to come too close. Yet.

“Perfume. You smell like perfume.” She states, her eyes narrowing. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never put on perfume. Who’s is it?” She asks, eyes flickering back up to meet yours.

Is she… jealous? Your heart skips a beat. 

“Ain’t nobody you should care about. I just happen to like the scent.” You bite back. “I’m sure you smell of a thousand perfumes.”

“I don’t-” Tennant begins to argue, before pausing. She can’t refute that statement. “You know it’s not like that.” “Not like what?” You push further. “You get to mosey on up to any Jill, Jade, or Joan. And I’m not allowed to wear a girl’s perfume? What kind of justice is that?”

“It ain’t justice, I’m just wondering.” Tennant pleads now, dropping her head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please. I didn’t come here to fight.” 

She sounds so tired.

Your heart continues to ache.

“What you come here for, then? Here to make good on your promise?” You ask, still acting bitter.

“No, not yet.” She sighs. “I ain’t got nothing but peanuts. I just…” She hesitates, squeezing her eyes shut. “I wanted to see you, doll. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Your grip on her loosens. “How long have you been in town?” You ask, worried for the answer.

“A minute. The second I landed here, I went to see you.”

That was the response that you were scared to hear. It was words like that, that made it impossible to tell just how deep her feelings went. Did she want you for you? Or for the convenience of a lover in the city?

“And lucky me,” Tennant jokes, “You got all pretty for my arrival. You miss me that much, sugar?”

Your intelligent mind begs you to push her away. To shove her out the hallway, and slam the door in her face. She’s gotten you nothing but trouble, leaving you with pain beyond anything you’ve felt before. And yet you don’t move. You find yourself frozen in the moment, trying to push forward any such response. 

She notices your falling tears before you do.

“Oh dove.” She lifts her head from your shoulder, wiping a tear with her thumb off your cheek. “Ma jolie colombe. Ma vie et ma dévotion. Mon monde.” She whispers to you, in a tone so light you’re afraid to breathe, lest you shatter it.

“French.” You observe aloud. “You speak french now?”

“Bits and pieces. I learned in Paris.” She explains, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Do you want me to show you what else I’ve learned in Paris?”

You can’t say no. Your body won’t let you. You nod softly, and she wastes no time pressing her lips to yours. Her hands move to your waist, while yours stay on her shoulders, the two of you holding each other in a waltz. 

The kiss is unlike anything you’ve had in your life. The passion behind it leaves your entire body on fire, your head spinning as if you’ve gone drunk off of it. 

She pulls away after what feels like an eternity, the two of you breathing heavily. You see that some of your makeup has smudged on her face. You’ve made a mark on her. 

“I do what I must to make a sale.” She whispers to you, pressing her forehead against yours. “But never once, never, did my heart stray from your hands. I’m yours, fully and completely.”

“I love you.” You say, unable to keep the words back. “I…” She begins, finding it hard to speak. Your heart beats faster, the uncertainty of her next words weighing down the moment. Will she turn and run? Like she always has before? 

“I love you. God, doll, I love you.”