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Okay, this much is obvious: I have a serious issue with completing things-namely fanfiction. For this I truly apologize. I hate it when I'm reading something great and there is no ending, no closure. I'm not sure of the root of this problem, but I think it's that I don't prioritize my hobbies. I know I've said I'm going to change, but from now on I'm only going to post once I've finished a series, or write one shots.
that feel when you can draw but can't color worth sh1t

You had it down to a fine science. First he would tilt his head into the air, pretending to listen to his brunette friend. Then, he would inhale deeply, taking in the scent. Finally, his azure eyes would flicker toward your food. If he liked it, he would glance at it as you ate it. If he didn’t, he would continue to listen to the boy next to him with a blank expression on his face.


That was the ingenious method by which you were crafting the perfect bento for your high school crush, Haruka Nanase.


Each day you sat on a bench in the courtyard near where Haruka and his other friends would lay out on the grass. Usually at least one or two of your own friends walked by you and complimented your cooking, which seemed to be rather popular among your peers.


For example, for the last festival the school held, you had prepared the bulk of the food, which included sweets, meat, and plethora of other dishes. It almost seemed that your talent was the source of your popularity-one would rarely see a student approach you without a hungry glint in their eyes.


Yet, there was one person who never changed his expression at your delicious cooking. Even though by deduction and careful trial and error you had figured out that he had an abnormal affinity for grilled mackerel, Haruka never once approached you. Even though you sat at the same bench for months just to be close to him, he never noticed-or at least it seemed that way.


You knew that he didn’t have time for girls-he was most likely going to go professional with swimming. Being the carefree, transient person you were, you let your crush go and wiped your brain of any feelings for Haruka. It was the end of the year, and your were in your last year of high school. Who has time for that nonsense anyway?


Although you told yourself that many times, it bothered you even after you graduated. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t like you, but you felt as if Haruka thought your cooking was sub-par. And for someone who was as passionate about food as you were, it was a quite hurtful.


As you eased into summer, however, you managed to lose yourself in work. Your parents owned a small restaurant on the shore that served primarily traditional seafood dishes. Since you weren’t cut out for the cutthroat world of academics or sports, you simply worked at your family’s restaurant. Oftentimes people from the city would come in, eager to enjoy the fresh seafood and the small-town vibe.


One day, walking home from meeting with an old friend, you spotted a cluster of dark clouds on the horizon. Thinking nothing of it, you continued walking. Because it was a long walk back, you noticed a an increasing number of raindrops dampening your hair. Scowling, you stopped in your tracks and looked toward the grey sky. A droplet fell directly into your eye, causing you to grimace and curse under your breath. You quickened your pace, but you could easily tell that this was going to be a nasty storm.


By the time you reached your house, the rain was crashing down and the wind was howling so loudly that it practically shook the house. “Mom? Dad?” you called out into the dim kitchen. Silence was your reply, indicating that your parents weren’t in the house. “Damn those old cooks,” you muttered. “Who even goes out in a storm like this?” After uttering this into the silence, you sat on the couch to wait it out.


You quickly found out the reason for your parents'

absence when your mother burst through the door wearing a grave expression. Your father followed, and you immediately stood up. “What’s wrong?” You asked quickly, knowing something terrible had happened. Your father gestured to the door.


Slowly you stepped outside. The street was covered with leaves and small branches. Gazing down each end of the street, you noticed one thing missing: your family’s restaurant. In its place on the shore was merely flat sand and a few half-buried boards.

“M-mom? W-where’s our restaurant?” You asked shakily, thoroughly shocked.


Your father cleared his throat painfully. “In the ocean.”


~~~(one year later, in the winter)~~~


As your parents drove you to the airport, you gazed out on the water that had swallowed up your life plans. With what little money you had, you were moving to France and hoping for the best. You knew a minimal amount of French, but you figured that you’d pick it up quickly. Not speaking the language was a small price to pay for being in the country with some of the world’s most renowned restaurants. But fortunately you spoke English as well, and you figured that a French native would likely know English over Japanese.


This move was sort of on a whim, just as you had lived much of your life. As you stepped onto the plane, you felt a tiny ball of excitement forming in your stomach.


Upon arriving, your excitement consumed you. You could hardly wait to get to the tiny apartment that you had paid for in advance. As you walked through Paris streets with your luggage, you stared in awe at your surroundings. The historic buildings covered with snow, the babble of a different language in your ears, and of course, the smell of pastries wafting from open air restaurants.


Observing your surroundings, you saw cafe after cafe. You carefully read each sign, vowing to visit each eatery. According to your directions to your apartment, this street was fairly close to where you would be living. You could probably go there on your lunch break, if you wanted.


Or, rather, if you had a job. Your lips twisted into a frown at the thought that you were unemployed. Remembering that the entire trek to your apartment, you scanned each sign carefully for a “for hire” sign. Though it was nearly night time and shops would probably be closing soon, you persistently kept an eye out.


You gasped when you saw it. You could hardly believe your eyes. It was Le Dauphin, the place you’d heard of from a list of the top ten restaurants in Paris (from a food magazine). And it had a sign on it which translated vaguely to “chefs wanted.” Your heart jumped into your throat. This could be a dream come true.


Nearly dropping your suitcase on the ground, you rushed into the near-empty restaurant. Inside were chic black seats, dark wooden tables, and a long black countertop that ran across the back. A man with slicked-back brown hair stood behind it, looking bored. He glanced up at you when he heard the bell on the door jingling, and stood up straighter.


“E-eto...P-Parlez-vous E-Englais?” You asked nervously in your thick Japanese accent. The man sighed exasperatedly.


“Yes. May I help you?” His voice, too, was cloaked in a heavy accent, although French. You nodded, and pointed toward the sign outside.


“You look for new chef?” You strained internally not to butcher your English, though you knew you already had.


“Yes, but we’re about to close. I’m sorry, you have to come back tomo-”


Abruptly, a deep, monotonous voice cut him off from one of the back rooms. “Non. Maintenant.”


The brown-haired man looked surprised, but complied. He lead you into one of the back kitchens and showed you to the refrigerator and pantry. “Try not to use too much, or waste our time,” he warned. He huffed off and left you in the kitchen by yourself. “You have less than an hour until we officially close.”


Befuddled, you stood there for a few moments to collect yourself. You decided on using whatever was left over from the day to avoid angering the head chef, who you guessed would also be grumpy. You hurriedly tied up your hair and grabbed an apron that was way too big for you off of a hook near the door. Reaching into the refrigerator, you saw an opened package of mackerel. You slid it out gingerly, inspecting its quality and deeming it good enough. You also pulled out a half empty bottle of white wine. A grin overtook your face as you decided to make Mackerel Vin Blanc.


You first filleted the fish, then boiled the wine, vinegar, and array of spices in a saucepan over the stove. It was a bit eerie inside the kitchen alone, but you were practically on fire. You knew that you would, had to, impress the chef. You began to cook the fish in another pan, then quickly added the white wine broth and vegetables. It smelled heavenly as the steam rose into your face. You sprinkled a bit of pepper over it, then covered it and let it simmer. You rummaged through a few cabinets before finding a trendy china bowl, then gingerly placed your creation onto it.


“Excuse me, sir, I’ve prepared m-”


As you were about to open the door to the head chef’s office, the door opened from the inside. You were in utter shock at who was behind the door.


“N-Nanase-san?!” You practically shouted. His eyes widened in recognition as you both took a step backward.


“(l/n)-san?” He said quietly. He struggled to control his expression, trying not to seem too surprised. He couldn’t believe how different you looked. Your eyes didn’t seem so round anymore, your bangs had grown out, and your figure had filled out. He was trying hard not to stare.


“What are you doing here?” He asked in your native tongue. As you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off. “Nevermind that. Hand that over.” Complying, you gave him your dish, bowing slightly.


The instant he took the warm bowl into his hands, Haruka’s eyes lit up slightly. Delicately he poked his fork into a piece of meat, slowly bringing it up to his mouth. As soon as the distinct taste of mackerel hit his taste buds, he knew his verdict. His blue eyes seemed to glint, and a small smile almost overtook his mouth.


Just to make you wait, he slowly took in your appearance-the slightly sweaty forehead, dark circles under your oblivious eyes, hastily swept-back hair, and blue apron-wait, blue apron? Haruka’s features contorted in confusion. “Why are you wearing my apron?”


Your face exploded into red. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea, really, I thought it was just some random person’s apron!” He waved it off. “But get to the point already!”


“Fine, fine. This is delicious. You’re hired.”



Passion I [Haruka Nanase x Reader] Contest Entry
Hello! Sorry for the long absence, I've been posting on WattPad, tumblr etc. because the fandoms on deviantArt don't really suit my taste anymore. Anyway, I came back so I could enter this swimminganimexreader.deviantar… lovely contest.

Notes:
-I don't speak very good French or any Japanese, so forgive me for language mistakes and feel free to correct me
-I researched, but I apologize in advance for any mistakes in how the chef hierarchy works

I don't own Free! or you.

Thank you for reading.
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Okay, this much is obvious: I have a serious issue with completing things-namely fanfiction. For this I truly apologize. I hate it when I'm reading something great and there is no ending, no closure. I'm not sure of the root of this problem, but I think it's that I don't prioritize my hobbies. I know I've said I'm going to change, but from now on I'm only going to post once I've finished a series, or write one shots.

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DeliciousxSouls's Profile Picture
DeliciousxSouls
Mika
Artist | Hobbyist | Other
United States
Hello. I am Souls.

As you can probably tell from my page, I am a fan of many animes:
Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin)
Watamote
Hetalia
Black Butler
Ouran Highschool Host Club
Uta No Prince Sama
Soul Eater
Neon Genesis: Evangelion
Sgt. Frog
Panty & Stocking With Garterbelt
Princess Jellyfish
Fruits Basket
xxxHolic
Baka and Test
Clannad & Clannad: After Story
Free!
Dramatical Murder
Gurren Lagann
Kill la Kill
Death Note
Blue Exorcist

And probably more that I'm forgetting.



I also enjoy science fiction and fantasyn novels, along with a wide array of films, including as The Great Gatsby, Les Miserables, and Hugo.

In addition, I have visited Canada, Ireland, England, Scotland, Wales, and most of the mainland United States. my mother is an english teacher, so naturally, I'm a grammar Nazi.

My hobbies include dancing (classical ballet, pointe, tap, and jazz), but I enjoy ballet most for its use of classical music, one of my favorite genres. I also play piano, and won a pageant at one point in my life.

I am an extremely busy person, so most of my 'free' time during the school year is spent cleaning, or drawing. I have never made less than an A, and plan never to do so.

I have a general hate for those around me-my friends ought to feel honored that I can tolerate them.

Probably the anime character that I relate with most is Norway from Axis Powers Hetalia. Although he much quieter than I am, we are alike in the way that I do not say all that I am thinking. Oftentimes people grow confused by my company, as I do not show them my problems, and they are shocked to find that I'm actually irritated with something else on my mind.

To me, humanity is disgusting. I honestly don't believe that we, as a species, should be allowed to continue its existence.

On a lighter note, however:

Nigaito Shions Stamp by WhiteShadow234 NIGAITO, I CHOOSE YOU!

Stamp: Iceland fan by Janbearpig

I support kuudere by VAlZARD



You are a Innocent Uke!

Cute and sweet, and most gentle of all uke, whips and chains are not for you - you just want someone to love you. You are often spotted in candy shops wearing furry kitty ears, where you are sure to be noticed by the Romantic Seme, whose protective instincts will kick in and will only want to take you home and love and protect you. And you, of course, will be more than happy to spend the rest of your life baking cookies for your seme.


Most compatible with: Romantic Seme

Least compatible with: Sadistic Seme, Don't Fuck With Me Seme


What seme or uke are you? Take the experience at SemeUke.com, or get seme/uke merch..

What Kuroshitsuji Character Are You?
What Kuroshitsuji Character Are You?
Hosted By theOtaku.com: Anime

What Anime Personality Are You?
What Anime Personality Are You?
Hosted By theOtaku.com: Anime

What Genre Of Manga Are You?
What Genre Of Manga Are You?
Hosted By theOtaku.com: Anime

What Hetalia Nordic Country are you?
What Hetalia Nordic Country are you?
Hosted By theOtaku.com: Anime

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:icondarkwings16:
darkwings16 Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2014  Student General Artist
thanks for the fave!!! :iconbunnyglompplz:
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:iconzinniasnowdrop:
ZinniaSnowdrop Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Thank you for joining the group :iconthe-haruka-hub: Home to people who love Haru-chan-san! :heart: :iconharukananaseplz: :heart:

 

Feel free to start adding any relevant artworks you have to the group if you or I haven’t already done so and check out if there are any contest that you could enter/vote when the time comes! :heart:

 

But other than that I hope you enjoy your stay! :boogie: :w00t:

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:iconotomezaki:
Otomezaki Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2014  Student General Artist
:iconarpkplz: Happy Birthday!!!! :iconarpkplz: 
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:icondeliciousxsouls:
DeliciousxSouls Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
oh thank you~
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swordsman9 Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2014  Student Filmographer
Happy Birthday here is a cake for you :cake:
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:icondeliciousxsouls:
DeliciousxSouls Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
awww thankies
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:iconshiryutsubaki:
ShiryuTsubaki Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2014  Student Artist
Hi! Check out my gallery! :)
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Corona18 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Tagged! Hope you don't mind :)

See here for more info: corona18.deviantart.com/journa…
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:icondeliciousxsouls:
DeliciousxSouls Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
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Corona18 Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Awesome :D I hope I didn't 'cause you too much trouble with this, I'm always afraid I'll end up tagging someone that will hate me for it cx
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