#Blank Chef Knife

[knifeforest]

Hand Forged Chef Knife no LOGO

[irisintheafterglow]

if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.” 

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort. 

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.” 

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?” 

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again. 

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent. 

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you. 

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.” 

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well. 

Please get me out of this. 

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence. 

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen. 

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.” 

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved. 

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features. 

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

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[tinkerbelle05]

Hi i hope you’re doing okay! Could you write something about sanji teaching reader how to cook :)) he’d be so gentle and sweet and also a big flirt the rest is up to you <33

Teach Me To Cook, Please

Character: Sanji x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: (Requested) Thanks Pookie, and yes I’m doing great, thx! 🫶🏿

Warnings: character might slightly be ooc, if so I’m sorry! I’m new to this fandom 😅 & there might be typos and the such.

-

You were sitting on the barstool watching Sanji expertly cook dinner. You weren't entirely sure what he was making but you saw salmon so probably that.

Sanji was gifted at many things; flirting, dancing, fighting (though only with his legs because in his words, “Can’t damage my hands. I’m a chef first, pirate second”), looking absolutely stunning. And of course, cooking.

Sanji could make almost anything you asked of him. If you wanted seafood paella, you got it, looking at the lobsters at the market for a few seconds, it’s right there for you when you wake up the next morning. And if he didn’t know how to cook a food you requested, he learned the recipe within a day and cooked it to perfection.

He did everything with a level of care and precision. Every vegetable was cut tin even and identical slices, any meat was cooked beautifully. And he did that for you, every single night for dinner that was just you two. Even after working long hours in a busy kitchen all day for the crew.

He was amazing.

There were many times you wanted to cook something for him but well, your cooking skills were shit to put it kindly. The most you could do was boil water and even that was hit or miss.

But still, you wanted to do something for him for once. Surprise him with his favorite meal after a hard day at work or homemade soup for when got he a cold.

“What’s the problem, love? What’s with the frown on your pretty face?” Sanji asked, his eyes looking into yours but his hands never stopped moving.

You leaned your head into your palm, “Nothing’s the matter, Sanji.”

He decided not to dignify your weak excuse with an verbal response, he just looked at you longer with a blank expression.

You sighed again, “I wished I knew how to cook, that’s all.”

He chuckled lightly, “But I’m here pigeon, I can make anything you want. It’s a small price I pay to be in the presence of a beauty such as yourself.”

See? He said words that made you feel warm and light at the same time. Fuzzy feelings found their way into your heart and made you wanna smile until your cheeks hurt. You didn't know how he did it, where all of his charming compliments came from.

You smiled softly at him, “I know but I still wanna at least pay you back. Maybe you can teach me how to make what your making?”

He considered this for a moment and looked down at his ingredients before he nodded with a grin and beckoned you to come closer. You got up and rounded the corner.

“What d I do first?” You asked after washing your hands, equal parts nervous and excited.

“Cut the vegetables for me, love,” he replied and started to unpack the fish.

You nodded, took the knife and stared at the vegetables. It was a rather manageable request but now your second guessing yourself.

Is there a wrong way to cut vegetables?

What if they are too big?

Too small?

Or not even?

You had no clue. But you decided to start chopping anyway. You attempted to cut the vegetables into big pieces so if that’s wrong then you can cut them into smaller slices.

Yes, that made sense in your head.

After a while of chopping, you felt Sanji staring at you. Instantly doubt clouded your mind and halted your cutting to a stop.

Were you chopping too slow? Too fast?

Maybe the cuts should’ve been smaller?

Sanji stood behind you, he placed his hand on yours and guided your chopping. His cheek rested softly at your head, you could feel his body on yours.

“You do it like this, love,” he said. You watched as he cut the vegetables into thin, even slices with a quickness you didn’t think was entirely possible.

Sanji grip on your hand was strong and firm, he made sure and confident slices. After a while Sanji left you to cut up tbe vegetables on your own. Once you were done, you dumped the vegetables into a pan with oil in it per Sanji’s instructions.

“You know, you said you were a terrible cook but you seem like you know what your doing,” Sanji chuckled. He leaned closer to you, “You sure you didn’t say all of the stuff just to spend time with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at, “Oh please, get over yourself. It was just simple chopping. Nothing much.”

Sanji shook his head, “No, no chopping is quite hard, well if you want them to be even that is. But you are just so amazing that it comes that easy to you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “If you keep inflating my ego, I’d become insufferable.” You stir the vegetables in the pan.

You heard Sanji laugh and felt his arms gently wrap themselves around your waist.

“As if you could ever be insufferable to me? Stop talking rubbish and stir the pot faster, your getting the vegetables all soggy.”

“Oh! Sorry,” you say quickly and stir faster.

-

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Taglist & Reqs Info & Masterlist

[momodita]

snapshots. [—todoroki shouto]

TAGS / WARNINGS: pro hero shouto, gender neutral       reader, pining, lots of food talk (shouto feeds       reader a gyoza), pining, silly fluff WC: 1,000 NOTE: realizing i forgot to link the snapshots       masterlist but can’t do it now bc tungle       doesn’t update reblogged versions and       i’m a sucker for consistency… weeps…

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Your mouth goes dry when the door swings open.

“You’re here early.”

It’s Shouto, inclining his head in a curious tilt. Outside air rushes in. Were it not for the mid-winter freeze, you would’ve thought he warmed you with his Quirk: eager blood pounding in your ears to accompany the rush of heat from your throat to your face.

Remembering to speak, you offer a smile. “I wanted to help set up.” There’s a scarf tucked neatly against his throat—a fluffy, well-kept material—not for its functionality, surely, but completing a cozy, well-prepared look nevertheless.

Behind you, Katsuki barks out his own type of greeting. “The fuck you standin’ there for, Icy-Hot? Get inside already. And no distractions.” As acting head chef of tonight’s hot pot party, he offers no leeway to kitchen loiterers.

“Sorry, you arrived right in the middle of dinner prep.” You watch Shouto remove and arrange his shoes by the foyer step. “We’re just getting everything ready for later.”

“This early?” he asks. The sweater he’s wearing looks large and comfortable without being too baggy. Complimenting it gives you an excuse to stare as he shrugs off his coat.

“Bakugou’s making sure we have enough,” you say. “Said it was easier before everyone arrives.”

“He’s doing everything himself?”

You chuckle. “He wrangled some extra hands.”

(Denki had fallen into Katsuki’s clutches after trying to usher everyone out of the kitchen, only to be put to work prepping carrots. Then he tried slipping away when he thought no one was looking; a mistake not to be repeated under Katsuki’s hawkish supervision.)

Shouto doesn’t break away to mingle with Izuku and Tenya setting up decorations around the living room like you thought he would. After his greetings, he wanders over to watch you prep bok choy at the counter.

“My important task,” you joke, tossing the leaves into a colander for washing.

“I can help.”

Bakugou scoffs. His knife clicks against the cutting board. “You can’t even cut chives correctly,” he touts. Beside him, Eijirou claps a hand on his back, grinning.

“Don’t worry, Bakugou. No matter how you chop bok choy, it’s tasty!”

Shouto doesn’t look bothered by the heckling—he never does—though you imagine it would take devastatingly little for him to unintentionally goad the blond into blowing up tonight’s dinner.

“Here,” you hand him a paring knife, “it’s kind of small, but we’re only cutting off the ends.”

Shoulder to shoulder with him, the warmth in your face is an adversary that refuses to abate: a habit you’ve never been able to kick, cemented over the years. Amid the aromatic broths is the scent of his cologne. Your nose can’t help but pick it out, and your brain can’t help but latch onto it.

“Look at the two of you, so hard at work!” Hanta chirps, saddling up with a plate of steaming gyoza. He waves some chopsticks. “A snack for your troubles.”

They look and smell incredible: the bottoms are perfectly golden and crispy, the thin wrappers clings to the filling, shiny and slightly translucent. Apparently Katsuki made the filling earlier that morning. He’d already been assembling them by the time you arrived, barking out corrections to Denki and Eijirou.

“Here, Todoroki—say ahh.” Hanta grins, picks up a gyoza. You stifle a laugh: bemusement rarely makes Shouto’s expression, but your chest always flips when it does. It’s endearing, too, the way his cheek puffs as he chews. Your head tips to try and hide the smile. Hanta nudges you with an elbow. “You too, ahh—”

“Oi! Flat Face, quit yappin’, the apples’re gonna brown if you leave ‘em out.”

“Coming, coming! So scary, Kacchan,” Hanta grins, leaving the plate of gyoza on the counter. “Juice is right there if ya want it.” He departs with a wave.

“Sero’s taking care of the snacks,” you explain. “Insisted on making apple bunnies.”

Shouto blinks. He’s staring at the plate of gyoza.

“They’re good,” he gestures, “you should try one.”

“I’ll be eating my fill when the prep is done, don’t worry,” you say. It’s a tempting thought: homemade gyoza are best when they’re hot. But prep is almost done, you can wait a minute longer.

Shouto, on the other hand, decides that is not the case. He picks one up with the chopsticks.

“Ahh.” Mimicking Hanta with a monosyllabic tone, he presents it with a completely blank expression. Your hand jumps to muffle the laugh that escapes; you almost angle away—a split second thought your body prepares to follow through with.

Realistically, though—selfishly—you know there won’t be another chance to monopolize his space like this when everyone else arrives. And the gyoza looks so good, it would be a shame to refuse.

With a murmur of thanks, you lean in. The outside has cooled some, but the filling has not. It’s savory and juicy. Your eyes squeeze shut with a satisfied, trilling hum.

“Hot.” You huff instinctively against your palm, reaching for a drink. “But good. Have you made gyoza before, Todoroki?”

Shouto’s eyes flutter a blink, chest expanding with a breath.

“Once,” he says, chin tilting. You’re almost too distracted by his eyelashes: the curve of them casting gentle shadows on his cheeks. “I tried to fold some with my siblings.”

“‘Tried to’, huh?” you muse, smile stretching easily. “How’d they come out?”

Shouto’s mouth quirks. “The ones that didn't have filling spill everywhere were alright.” You laugh. “And you?”

“I have a couple times. Not recently. The success… varied,” you admit, sheepish. “It takes more skill to make gyoza than I thought. You gotta have good technique to fold the wrappers—they look good when they’re uniform. Maybe your sister will teach you if you ask,” you suggest lightly, snapping apart bok choy leaves that weren’t separated by the knife.

“I will,” he says, and adds, “When I get better, I’ll teach you.” A little thrill dances up your spine.

“Yeah,” your chest is light, “I’d like that.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

LET THEM FEAST

This piece was inspired by this Mickey Mouse cartoon as well as this early episode from Spongebob.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The cafeteria doors parted, swinging open as any other door would—but to Fellow and Gidel, it was as if the gates to heaven were welcoming them. Humming chatter and the smells of delicious foods churned out from beyond. Deeply inhaling, tasting the aromas in the back of one’s throat, made their bodies light and floaty, as if hunger had made them weightless.

They followed a hoard of uniformed boys with trays, drifting to buffet stations loaded with dishes they could only dream of. Slabs of roast beef dripping with mushroom gravy, racks od lamb, game birds with crisped skin, fish glistening with herb butter, steaming stews with vegetables bobbing in a sea of rich broth, fluffy rice, cakes sliced wide and trifles stacked tall. The paper-thin slice of bread and beans they had for supper had never looked quite so sorry.

Gidel didn’t notice that his mouth was agape and slick with saliva until a cane tucked under his chin and closed it for him. Fellow pulled the young boy close, a hand on his arm as he wildly gestured to the waiting delicacies.

“Take a gander, Giddie! All that food’s free and ours for the taking!!” he chirped. “Ready your fork and knife, we’re going to eat like kings today!”

Arm in arm, the duo dove into the bar, grabbing as much as they reasonably could. Generous scoops of mashed potato, the biggest pieces of meat, plenty of sauce, the largest loaves. Gidel rushed about with an apple crammed into his mouth and Fellow snuck oyster crackers into his breast pocket (as a late-night snack).

While their plates piled higher and higher, the mob students grew more irritable. Elbowing them out of the way, snatching up popular itwms, and taking far more than their share had the tendency to invoke ire. The mobs casted dirty looks at Fellow and Gidel, others raising their voices at the kitchen.

“Oi, where’s the refill of tomato soup? I’ve been waitin’ for forever over here!”

“When’re the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggies gonna be done…”

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole horse. What’s the damn hold up?!”

“Be patient, boys!” a ghost chef callee back. He grunted as he hailed a vat of curry off of the stove. “It takes time to prepare the food.”

“They’re ravenous today,” remarked the lead chef. “Wonder what’s going on. We normally don’t have to prepare this much.”

By this time, Fellow (trailed by Gidel) had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He set down his tray (the tower of food upon it wobbling, threatening to collapse) and waved enthusiastically at the chefs.

“Afternoon, gents! How’s it going? Looks to me like you’re hard at work feeding all these wayward souls.”

“Oh, um. Just fine, thank you.” The head chef blinked. He liked to think that he recognized all of the students and staff that came into his dining room, but he was drawing a total blank with Fellow and Gidel. “Er… Sorry, are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you boys before.”

“Fufu, that’s right. We’re new to these parts.”

“They ain’t even students,” an angry mob student behind him piped up.

The lead chef startled. Worry crumples his round, marshamallowy face. “Oh dear, not students? The buffet is only open to them and staff.” He glanced at Fellow’s pickings. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to return all that.”

Anger and annoyance shot through the fox beastman. Tch…! Those NRC brats, looking down on me! Why should they get to gorge themselves on this stuff while the rest of us beg for their scraps?!

He reached down and gripped Gidel’s hand, giving the young boy a reassuring squeeze. Gidel offered a sleepy grin back.

Watch this. I’ll turn this entire situation around and have them eating out of the palm of my hand.

He let out a theatrical gasp, then summoned his most charming smile. “My bad, I forgot to introduce myself! You see, I am a health inspector sent by the Department of Magic Education to evaluate your menu! Gidel here’s my trusty assistant.”

The leader of the ghost chefs scratched his head. “Huh? Is that what a health inspector does…?”

“Of course, or cooourse! All a part of the job description, my friend.” Fellow indicated his absurd amount of food. “They’re looking to implement new standards for magic school menus—and where better to look at as a model for reference than THE famous Night Raven College? The education it offers is elite, so the meals it offers must be elite as well! That’s why they’ve sent us to try one of everything, to evaluate the quality of your wares.”

Gidel bobbed his head. (He had little clue what he was actually agreeing with, but he agreed nevertheless.)

“Come ON, you don’t seriously buy this crap, do you?” a mob student groaned. “The old fart’s clearly lying!!”

Other voices joined him, but they all fell upon deaf ears. The head chef’s eyes sparkled, his pasty white cheeks rosy with excitement.

“Oooooh, why didn’t you say so sooner?! W-We will absolutely do everything in our power to accommodate your needs, Sir Health Inspector!” He turned to his kitchen staff. “Isn’t this so exciting, everyone? We’ll be the first group of ghosts to receive a fancy accolade after death!”

A murmur of approval weaved through the kitchen. The dining room, however, erupted into a fresh round of protests.

“You’re joking!!”

“That’s such an obvious lie.”

“How can you believe that bullcrap?!”

Keheheh, never underestimate the power of this Fellow Honest-sama’s silver tongue 🎶 I didn’t even need to use my unique magic to cut to the front of the line. Some people are just born suckers and stay suckers in the afterlife.

He smirked, giving a triumphant twirl of his cane. “Sorry, folks! You snooze, you lose. We get first dibs on everything~”

“Hah?! What’d ya just say to me?” A vein bulged on a Savanaclaw student’s forehead. He was about double Fellow’s width and rippling with muscle. “Like hell you are!”

“The way you talk is pissin’ me off!!” chimed in a Diasomnia student. He drew his baton and aimed it at Fellow. “I oughta shut you up for good!”

The idea was a seed, taking root and festering among his peers. Other students were producing their own magical pens, out of pockets and from inside vests.

Fellow paled, balking but keeping himself between the mobs and Gidel. “H-Hey now, can’t we talk this over? Violence doesn’t solve everything, you know!”

“YES IT DOES,” the mobs retorted—in unison for once. Hungry and angry, a terrible combination.

Gidel whimpered. No sound, but Fellow could sense it in the way the boy retreated into his coat. A free hand found its way to the small of Gidel’s back, keeping him upright.

Don’t let them see you like that. Weak, downtrodden. It’s letting them have the moral victory.

His grin widened. He was a fox looking to sink his teeth into unsuspecting prey.

“Why spend your youth grumpy and causing trouble? You should lighten up, live a little, laugh a little. Here, I’ll show you how. Just follow me! Come on to the Theater!! Life is Fun!!”

Fellow spun his cane, releasing a light shower of sparkles upon the crowd. They floated down, popping like popping on their skin. Eyes glazed over, twisted expressions slackened.

“Now then!!” Fellow, raised his cane like a baton, still spinning as he conducted his herd. He, poised as the ringleader. “Right this way, right this way, gentlemen! Let’s have a lively parade to the courtyard on this fine day!”

“The weather is nice today…”

“Coach said I need to get more exercise in.”

“I’ve been stressed about classes, I need to take this break.”

Marching—one, two, one, two—Fellow led the procession out of the cafeteria. He belted out a tune as he ushered students through the exit.

“Hi-diddle-dee-dee, actor's life for me!”

(Gidel pranced in and out of the line of students, reaching into pockets and retrieving miscellaneous items. Pencils, a keychain, spare change. He stashed them under his hat.)

“A high silk hat and a silver cane, a watch of gold with a diamond chain!”

When the last student was gone, Fellow made a U-turn and rushed back into the cafeteria, slamming the doors behind him. He dropped his smile, letting it shatter like a porcelain teacup and not bothering to salvage the remains.

“Sheesh, they’re finally out of my fur!” Fellow sighed deeply. “Those rotten kids really had to make me work hard for my meal...”

Gidel scrambled over to him, pulling out the various items he had clumsily pilfered. Look what I got! he seemed to say.

Fellow brightened, ruffling the child’s messy brown mop. “Atta boy, Giddie! We sure showed those snooty rich kids what for, eh?”

At that moment, the head chef bursted out of the kitchen juggling a tray of apple strudel. He was followed by several other ghosts, each carrying a new dish.

“Sorry for the wait, here’s the… Huh?” The head chef glanced around the nearly empty cafeteria, his brows knitting. “Where did everybody go?”

“Must’ve gone out for a stroll Fine by me, they’re letting us get right down to business,” Fellow laughed, clapping a hand on Gidel’s shoulder. “C’mon, that’s enough excitement for one day. Let’s dig in!”

[douceurrrr]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

paring(s): carmen berzatto x adamu!reader

summary: thanksgiving is tomorrow and you’re stressed but luckily carmy can fuck that out of you.

warning(s): kitchen sex, missionary, oral (f), hard fucking, you being a slut for carmy. WRAP IT BEFORE YOU FUCKING TAP IT!

“fuck.” you muttered for the tenth time, to be honest you didn’t even know why you were doing this by yourself when your boyfriend is literally a chef but you invited your dad and Sydney and carmy invite everyone from the restaurant. thanksgiving was always hard for you and syd since your mother’s death, so you wanted everything to be perfect. You had pulled all of your grandma’s old cooking recipes and tried to master all of them but you just found yourself into some deep shit. You even woke up early than usual, threw on carmy’s blank white t-shirt and some panties and went to work. after a little while you hear heavy footsteps coming from the bedroom you and carmy shared.

You didn’t turn around at the voice saying, “whoa what’s going on here?” carmy says from behind you, not failing to notice your attire and the smell of food in the air

You were so focused on scrambling and trying to get everything done that you didn’t give him a answer. Carmy shakes his head at you before walking towards you with his hand reached out, about to touch your shoulder but you stop him. “carmy if you touch me, I’ll stab you with this fucking knife.” you grit at him, you obviously didn’t mean it but you were just to stressed out for any physical touch. Carmy look at you with surprised look.

Carm takes a few breaths before speaking,“jesus babe, what’s got you all stress out?” he says, folding his arms. You set the knife down before turning your attention to carmy. “thanksgiving, that’s what.” carmy nods at your response and takes a look around at the kitchen, shit was everywhere, the kitchen looked like your state of mind at that moment. “babe we have until tomorrow, why don’t you just take a break and come back to it la-” your protests cut him off as you try to explain to him why you can’t wait later but he cuts you off, with his lips.

You moaned in his mouth as his lips caressed your lips, messily. His nose is pressed against your cheek as he granted his touch access into your mouth which you accepted. soon enough his hands travels to your ass and tightly grabs it before slamming his hands down on it causing you to moan in his mouth more. He then pulled away to clear the counter top with his hand, making everything fall on the floor. He hopped you on top on the counter before saying, “spread your legs, hot stuff.” he muttered. You did what he told you to do, spreading your legs and leaning on your forearms.

Carmy glanced at the wet spot on your panties before looking up at you. “you look like a fucking dream, baby.” he groaned. his fingers hooks onto your panties before yanking them down and tossing them somewhere in the kitchen. carmy them slides his hands behind your knees, pushing them down to get a better look at your pussy. his dick grows at the sight of wet, plushy cunt. “ready angel?” you nod rapidly in response. His pink lips brushes against your folds as his nose bumps against your clit with each lick. You struggle to breathe when the pleasure is just too good. His tatted hands are placed on your body, one on your thigh and one on your belly, keeping you down. you jolted in surprise when Carmen shakes his head side to side, getting a satisfied reaction from you.

“holy fuck, carmy.” you moaned, breathlessly. his tongue is houdini and your pussy is the act, working all his magic.

Carmy glides his tongue on your clit, making your hands fly to his hair. “right there, huh?” carmy smirked as you grabbed tighter on his brown locks. Your eyes disappeared in your brain as you were close to cumming. “fuck carmen, fuck!” you squeaked, cumming all over carmen’s face. “m’gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.” carmen says, not wasting any time getting his pants off.

He didn’t even bother taking his shirt off.

You head fucking spins as carmen taps his cock on your clot a couple of time before pushing in intensely, filling you completely with his cock. You mewled, clawing at his plain blue shirt until his pelvis pressed against yours. “you still stressed out? hm?” he uttered as he starts to pick up the pace. You could barley respond to him as he was thrusting in all the right places. “answer me or I’ll stop, I swear to god.” He says, seriously.

You finally bring yourself to answer him. “no I’m not stressed” you cried. Your pussy submerges his cock with each thrust, bringing a gush sound.

Carmen’s naw clenched as he can feel the intensity of a orgasm coming. Carmen’s hand comes up to you shoulder, pulling you in his thrusts. You sob his name, grabbing tighter on his shirt that stopped above his v-line. Everything was so aphrodisiac as you tighten around him, letting him know your close. He brings his thumb to your clit, helping you get to your goal. “cum f’me you deserve it, babe.” He says which gave you the green light. You squeal his name as your orgasm washes over you and your body dissolves into pleasure. Carmen’s hot, sweaty body collapses on top on you with cum dribbling out of your cunt. “fuck that was incredible.” he says into your chest.

Carmen then leaned up from your chest and looked around the kitchen. “next year, you should let me fucking help you.” he chuckled.

[kawaiibarty]

remus lupin headcanons

6'2"

hazel brown eyes (yk green and brown type shizzle)

born blonde but as he aged it got darker until he was more of a brunette

freckles + moles. almost more than lily. almost.

his father is a half-blood who came from a cattle farming muggle family so when he was little he was taught how to handle calves and shit and he had a favourite cow named frankie (after frankenstein)

his favourite book of all time is frankenstein because he relates to the monster on all levels except physical. ostracized, demonized, ugly, misunderstood, feared, etc, etc.

master chef fr. man can bake and cook

cis and bisexual. his first "relationship" was in 3rd year with mary mcdonald

tea>hot chocolate>coffee

gin and tonic and neat whisky

thick welsh accent

stupidly smart but he MUST study or he'll blank during tests

only smokes menthols and blunts that he personally rolls.

music taste: david bowie, the smiths, blur, jeff buckley, suede, america, dire straits, the doors, new order, the police, led zeppelin, sonic youth, the velvet underground

favourite song: horse with no name by america

hated that he was the only child and got jealous of sirius and regulus's relationship no matter how rocky it got between the brothers he yearned for something like that and when sirius and james became close it only dug the knife further into his chest because they weren't even real brothers. he just wanted.

lily and severus were his first friends until severus started being bitchy after third year he began to distance himself from both of them.

first gay crush was evan rosier in his second year.

only watches films when the boys do. with that said whatever sirius likes, remus likes.

snarky when you're close to him but won't even attempt conversation if he doesn't know your name.

panics over the smallest things but very good at compartmentalisation so you wouldn't even suspect unless you know him extremely well.

his tell when he lies is that he scrunches his nose and sniffs (i do that (no i don't))

long sleeves year round because he's self conscious of his scars.

he fluctuates between a buzzcut and mullet throughout his school years but ends up just sticking with a shaggy whatever-the-fuck-this-is most of the time.

ROMAN NOSE

book genres range from jane austen romance to non fictional books about the fall of the russian monarchy. whatever reads well yk?

story teller drunk. once he's got a beer in hand he WILL NOT shut up. not until he's got a cock in his mouth, anyway.

playlist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTAH if I took a knife from my job?

I (26nb) have been working in a hotel restaurant as a chef for 4 months now, and we regularly hold pop up events other local restaurants/chefs on top of having 4 restaurants/cafes, event/catering spaces, and room service in the building. Our kitchen staff can range from 50 people to over 100 depending on the day. About two months ago, someone was using my station (not uncommon), either for a popup event or a catering event, I'm honestly not sure, and left a VERY expensive, brand new knife behind. I'm familiar with the brand; it can cost upwards of 200 dollars. I asked a few of my coworkers (only 3 cooks including myself regularly occupy our part of the building, so if was one of theirs I'd know) if they recognized it/knew whose it was but they came up blank, so I put it back where I found it and up until now have totally left it alone. It has not moved once or been disturbed at all, and I can only guess at this point it was left by a pop up event, because if it was one of our staff they would have had any opportunity to come look for it/if they wanted it up there to use in the future it would have been moved from use. I want it, and at this point it seems to have been abandoned. Would I be the ass hole for taking it home with me ?

What are these acronyms?

[xandyprojects]

AAAA I KEEP FORGETTING TO POST HIM BUT HERE MY BLANK SCRIPT OC

HERE HE ISSS

(2nd pic of an oc) Xavier belongs to @4thwallbreakerdraws

He is Steve also known the Butcher n chef mostly know of either feeds the pets, employees n anyone who is hungry n needs of food.

He sometimes either hate or annoy when someone wasted good chucks of ingredients or food, if it a reasonable reason like it was spoiled, you are allergic n he didn't know he will let it slide n will make it better one.

But if it's not then you see mad steve with a knife, dw he will not kill you ^^ trust me...

✨️ Some other irrelevant facts ✨️

- he love LOVES panda so you'll often see him have panda merch

- He not much good with reading but he's good at math

- knows how to oragami

- likes to listen to radios than TVs unless the show is cooking hell watch

- He not good with social cues n often scares other even if he didn't mean it.

- aka Looks like it can kill you, it's a cinnamonroll

Hey uh @blackkatdraws2 / Kat I think u already seen it but I just forgot to post it lmao, I just wanna show my silly butcher.

[fictionfixations]

oop

oh my god ace (Labwear vignette)

whh ?!

Anyway fun facts about Ace: [Ace: I can learn anything in a snap when I put my mind to it.]

(apprentice chef vignette) good at cutting things (is actually good at observing other people and doing what they do accurately)

[Ghost Chef: Nicely done. Everything looks about the same size. Clearly you've some skill with a kitchen knife.

Ace: Hehe, thanks. I haven't actually used one much, but I've watched the upperclassmen back in my dorm.

Ghost Chef: Mm, so you learned by observation. You must be naturally dexterous to do it so well.]

in the fairy gala rerun its mentioned he's skilled at magic tricks (not actual magic but like. for example. card tricks or anything else-- ..i havent seen that many so im blanking out on examples)

and described as being "quite skilled with his hands"

i am not joking i am STILL not over this line

(i dont have the event, and wiki dialogue does not give it justice. i cut him off because out of context shit is the funniest thing ever)

[teamdilf]

Contains spoilers from the Dragon Age: The Veilguard gameplay previews.

Iris and Solas are out on an artifact-gathering expedition when they encounter a ghost: Iris’ mother, who was thought to have been killed outside Wycome a decade ago. Ghilan’nain has taken control of the woman, ordering her to assassinate Iris, leaving Solas trying to untangle the mind of a woman who resents her own daughter.

Set in the Rook, No. universe.

The woman before them in camp is aged - mid-60s would be his guess, and her hair is more grey than black, but the lips are Iris’ and the woman wears Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin in the same stormy blue as her eyes. She holds a butcher’s knife; the desperate weapon of a chef, and her eyes are blank, but she stares at Iris, who is sitting next to him, mouth slack, and eyes damp, trembling as if she’s encountered a ghost.

Given that, until this woman marched into camp, blatantly ignoring the wards they’d set together before settling in for the night, Iris thought her mother dead, he supposes this woman is a ghost to her. His mind turns as he considers the scene before them: Iris’ mother is no warrior, but with Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin, her mind is not her own, and the mother of monsters specifically tracked this woman down to send her to act as Iris’ assassin.

[ivecomeforsouls]

Chapter 13- Two Empty Chairs

Legend's house underwent many renovations. They added their bedroom and a guest bedroom on one side, and a pantry and a storage room on the other. There was now a kitchen area and a small dining area, with a sitting area on the other side. But the part that Legend loved the most, was the two chairs they'd carved for Ravio and Tarin. With their names and memories engraved on them, they were set on one side of the rectangular table. His second favorite, was the rocks that lined their property. Each of these eighty-four large stones had the names of close friends and relatives who were dead or who they would never be able to see again.

----------

"Link," Marin called from the kitchen window. "I might be crazy, but I hear footsteps outside. No one else should be here though, so I'm worried. What is that?"

Legend looked over her shoulder.

"Your imagination." He replied without thinking, which left him with two options. The murderous lady standing next to him with a chef knife, or the shadow of an unfamiliar monster in the middle of the lawn with no apparent origin. The right choice was an obvious one.

"I'll go check it out." He stumbled over a misplaced sewing kit and out the door. Drawing his sword, he cautiously headed to the back yard.

Rings. No shadow was there anymore, just a trail made of his rings. An obvious trap. He turned around and looked at Marin through the window, and the look of death that he found sent him following the ring trail in hopes of distracting her from his recent high treason.

After picking up twenty-seven rings and turning a corner, he fell through the floor. It closed from above him, but the circular cave he found himself in was lit with some kind of blue light so he could still see well once his eyes adjusted.

In the middle of the cave sat a circular altar dedicated to Lanyru, and on the other side of where he he was, two chairs sat face-to-face with each other with about 10 feet of distance between them.

Upon closer inspection, one chair had the words "Hero of Legend" inscribed onto it, and the other was blank. So he thought up what the dumbest thing he could possibly do in this situation, and did what he usually did. That. So he sat down.

He wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't been right in front of him. In fact, he almost didn't.

"Hello." Legend remained seated and silent, watching the dark cloaked lady now seated on the chair in front of him. "I am the Goddess, Lanyru."

Previous | Next

[softquietsteadylove]

Hiii darling, how are you?

I had a promt idea and i wanted to share it with you.

What about thenamesh being broken up 😈.

Like i know thats basically imposible because they can not be apart from each other for a long time ( but relationships are hard you know).

So they haven't seen each other in a very long time, and they completely over one another, they even dated other people, but both are currently single.

They are completely over each other, Gilgamesh is NOT constantly thinking about Thena's beautiful sunshine hair, or how smarth she was or her gorgeous long legs he could stare at all day long of course not, and is not like Thena everyday thinks about how charming Gilgamesh was, or how he could make her feel better just saying something dumb or how she got distracted just by looking at those big and strong arms of his, not at all they are soo over each other and they don't even wanna meet again.

But when they do see each other again it goes like this:

- Thena and Gil walking directly to each other whitout realising.

They make eyecontact and fully stop

They stare at each other intensely

Gil : Thena hello ! - dumb smile

Thena : Hello - small blush

The tension in the air can be cut with a butter knife

"Mamma mia" by ABBA starst playing in the background

And thats about it 😊, sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language, and thank you for sharing your works with us they are so beautiful, i love them all, they make my days better 🩷🤍.

"Come on, Gil, don't get all emo on us now!"

But he'd had enough--more than enough. He had only agreed to a night out with the boys because he had dodged them ten times for every one, and tonight was the eleventh hour. Even with all that, it wasn't enough to keep him in the pub with pounding music and the stink of smoke.

Thena hated the smell of smoke.

His friends would tell him not to think that way. For all the times he had sworn to them that he was over her, here he was thinking of her again?

But of course he was! Thinking about Thena was as natural to him as breathing, and the breakup had done nothing to change that. It still felt almost surreal sometimes, as if the last year and a half of his life was still in the haze of post-breakup blues. All the months spent moping around his apartment, the weeks after of being set up with blank face after blank face. He had even maintained a relationship eventually, only to have called her 'Thena' one time (entirely by accident).

He had omitted that part of the story to his friends when they asked 'what happened to what's-her-name?'.

Gil had tried the dating thing, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that it wasn't working for him. If it wasn't Thena, it wasn't for him. And that didn't bode well, considering they had parted ways with the stark promise that there would be no getting back together.

No regrets, they had said. He was going to put the hours into the kitchen that he needed to as the new head chef of a long established restaurant. Thena was going to focus her razor sharp intellect into pursuing her PHD while working at the museum. He had once called her the 'rock star' of the historical world. She hadn't appreciated it at the time.

For their shared declaration of no regrets, there were plenty. He had lamented to his friends how he hadn't expressed enough interest in Thena's work. He didn't watch the historical programs she liked to watch in bed; he fell asleep to them. Although in his defense, Thena never could get through a boxing match without checking a work email or swearing she was paying attention while she read something on her phone.

Thena was on the other side of town, in Sersi's old flat after she and Dane had decided to finally move in together. She had always done best with her own space, after all. Yet another regret; their half-assed compromise - which made neither of them happy - on how to use the second bedroom. Gil wanted a home gym and Thena wanted a home office. It ended up housing his exercise equipment cramped in with all the books she couldn't fit onto the living room shelves.

It was the truest compromise, in the sense that they were both left frustrated and unsatisfied by the results.

Really, it was them making old fights into new ones. He knew she liked having her own space. Anyone would, after growing up with an annoying twin brother like Ikaris their whole life, he could admit. But he hadn't really appreciated her bringing up that he was an only child as a reason for him not sympathising with her more.

It was little things, really. Little things that had just...piled up on them. Him kicking his shoes off hastily, forgetting that Thena had grown up in a preparatory school and liked everything arranged neatly. Her leaving her teabags piled up in the garbage instead of in the organic waste container he kept in the fridge, specifically because the kitchen was his domain and he didn't like unwanted smells hovering around.

Little things piling up; it was for the best, they had agreed.

And now, a year and a half later, here he was, outside a pub, in the snow. He checked his phone; the night was young, but his friends were enough pints in that maybe they wouldn't notice if he decided to just...leave. If they asked, he could say it was way later, they just weren't remembering it right.

He walked slowly, still staring at his phone. It was the blank, default phone background. He hadn't settled on a new one after needing to take down the picture of him and Thena on their trip to Australia. It wasn't any more pathetic than the rest of his life.

"Sorry," a soft voice uttered, scuffling feet in snow filling the air as they narrowly avoided one another.

Her eyes rose to meet his, still a sparkling green that contrasted the hair that was the colour of pure sunshine. She was dressed in all white, as she always was. He had always said it was her colour. "Hey."

The one word was like the cavalry call. Memories flowed through him. Some of the bad times. But the happy ones far, far outweighed them. There were so many happy ones it was a wonder they had ever decided they weren't worth the bad.

Thena was still the most beautiful woman Gil had ever seen. Her edges were so sharp, and yet she still possessed a softness--a fragility to her delicate frame. It was hard to tell under her long white coat if she looked different, but he remembered those long legs entwined with his in the hammock on their balcony. Her lips were still full and succulent like a berry.

"Hey." He smiled, and she smiled as well. There was a lightness to it that hadn't been there when she had left her key with him and closed the door behind her. "How are you?"

"Good," she answered plainly, as she always had. Her eyes darted down to the ground and she tucked some hair behind her ear, still a clear tell of when she was nervous. His heart skipped a beat as he caught a blush in her cheeks. "And you?"

"Yeah," he answered, not that it was much of an answer. He had yet to stop smiling, but she was still smiling too. "Restaurant's doing well--same old."

Thena nodded, some of her hair tumbling from her scarf wound loosely around her. "I read a review of it. Your praises were sung most eloquently."

She had such a poetry to her language. Some found it odd, but Gil had always admired her more elegant word choice in comparison to his easy and casual phrases. He had tried writing poetry, but he was no match for her simply describing how her day was.

"Yeah?" he grinned. The idea of her checking a review of his work was more than he could have hoped for. It felt like hearing that she had asked if he was seeing anyone.

"I'm not surprised," she stated more than confessed. "You have always been an excellent chef. I wouldn't have needed some culinary reporter to tell me that."

Emboldened by her olive branch, Gil stepped closer. "And how's the doctorate?"

Her pleased smile returned, her scarf even picking up in the wind and brushing the front of his army green jacket. She used to always put her hand on his chest for no good reason, whenever she wanted. "I'll be submitting by the end of this year. Nothing is signed yet, but I'm told things look promising."

His grin stretched wider. The word 'rock star' was on his tongue again but he inhaled, drawing up his shouldering instead of wrapping his arms around her and picking her up off the ground. "Hey, that's great! I mean, I knew you'd get it. You're way too good not to."

Thena's eyes drifted downward again. Her smile turned shaky and her hands went to the buttons of her coat. She swayed on the spot, as if unsure of which direction to lean. "Thanks, Gil."

The snow filled in the silence between them, Mamma Mia positively blaring from inside the pub. The flashing, coloured lights inside proved stronger than the tint of the windows, reflecting on the snow already fallen.

Thena broke the silence first. "I'm surprised you're out this late."

Once, that might have been a barb about how he always had to sleep early to get into the restaurant early (especially on nights when she had a work social at the museum). But that was years ago, and now it was a casual - if nervous - question asked in a playful tone.

Gil smiled. "Well, usually I wouldn't. But the guys have really started giving me a hard time about-"

He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly terrified of uttering the truth of his dismal life since her exit. Surely it was pathetic of him to tell his ex-girlfriend about how all he did was lie around watching the same five shows and living almost completely off of leftovers from work.

But Thena laughed. It was gentle, and light, and he still found it really cute. "So, you came out tonight just to appease them?"

Her laughter drew out his as well. His shoulders lowered and his hands shuffled around in his pockets. "Guess so."

Thena looked towards the dark glass of the windows. It took her a few minutes to build up to what she had to say. But rather than eagerly rush her, he waited, happy to admire her. "I have become even less social than before, if you can believe it."

"Wow," he commented outright, earning the mildest form of her glare possible. He chuckled, though. "I can't believe it."

She could have left it there if she wanted. But she kept holding her scarf at the ends, braving on. "It seems I've been a bit reclusive since..."

It was Thena to bridge the unspoken gap, utter those completely forbidden words. But in that way, it was also her extending her hand, asking him to take it.

Gil turned soft, as he always did with her. His voice lowered to nearly a whisper, like it would after she'd had a night terror and needed comforting. "I guess I have too."

She had closed the distance as much as she could. She needed more from him, going quiet again and staring into his chest.

Gil eagerly met her halfway, pulling his hands from his pockets and crushing her against him. It was just a hug, something friends could do (if she decided she would regret this, too). "I missed you."

But she slid her arms around him. She buried her nose in his jacket and he leaned over her, practically engulfing her in his arms. She inhaled, drinking in the scent of him.

"Sorry, I probably smell like fryer oil," he excused. She had always hated that smell.

She shook her head, still buried in him. "I missed it."

How was he not supposed to fall in love with her all over again?

"Hey," he said gently, only encouraging her to pull away enough to look at him. He brushed some hair from the crown of her head. "Would you wanna grab something? We could get a decaf...something--you still don't drink, right?"

Thena beamed as if he had asked her something so much more than just terrible coffee. But small things - like remembering that she didn't really enjoy drinking - always meant the most to her. "I'd love to."

Just hearing the word from her lips made his heart leap in joy. It remembered hearing that word so often from her. It wanted to hear it again.

"So, uh," Gil began, leading her away from the pub with her hand in his. Maybe it was too much to hold hands with someone he had just asked out, but Thena's hand held onto his just as firmly. "That 24 hour place is still open. I heard they have daily specials now."

"Sounds lovely." She hadn't become a conversationalist. But she held onto his hand, letting him go on about the pastries in the window and how it was under new ownership. He didn't mention how he couldn't even look at the place for the first two months after their breakup.

Gil looked at her but didn't stop walking as she leaned against him. "You okay? We don't have to go out, if you're tired. You can just come over and I can make you some tea."

She buried her face in his sleeve. "You think I'm the type to go home with you on the first night we've met?"

He paused for a second before letting out a laugh that would wake anyone out of a dead sleep. "Are you flirting with me?"

"You seem much more the flirtatious type."

Thena was happy to play coy about it, but he knew she was flirting because she was terrible at it when they'd first started dating. "Maybe I am."

"You could take a girl to dinner, first." It was light, witty banter, her favourite kind. She was relaxing more and more.

"How's tomorrow?"

He waited for her response, only able to look at the top of her head with her leaning on him. But it made him think of the beach in Australia when he had first told her he loved her. He had thought it plenty of times before, but that was the first time he had spoken the words. Maybe he would get the chance to say them again.

Thena adjusted their arms, linking them at the elbows, still revealing nothing of her expression as she said, "it's a date."

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

bolognese for the heart | chef!bob x oc

Summary: chef!Bob making something with the pumpkin guts/seeds while OC sits nearby carving the freshly cleaned-out pumpkin. (wc: 458)

Requested: YES by @a-reader-and-a-writer

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, knife mention, an entire backstory that i have yet to write (whoops)

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

“Mm, the guts’re all yours, chef,” Georgia said as she slid over the bowl, a grimace on her lips and the last remaining strings of pumpkin insides dangling from her fingers. “Hated that.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Bob chuckled as he kissed her cheek.

She wiped her hands on a towel. “Mm, you better.”

“So will you, once I get these guys toasted and seasoned.”

Bob took the bowl of guts over to the sink and began to pick out the seeds. Extracting them from the stringy insides and washing them off one by one. Once cleaned to his liking, he laid each of them out gently on a paper towel to dry. Georgia smiled as she watched him for a moment. Even after all this time, she could still watch him cook anything and be absolutely enthralled. Especially with the sleeves of his button up rolled up like that and his apron tied around his waist. 

“What’re ya gonna carve?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her with a grin.

“Um —” Georgia turned back to the hollowed out pumpkin, staring up at her blank faced. “I don’t know. My family always painted pumpkins at Halloween.”

“Really? Why?”

“Less messy, more fun — less dangerous,” she said, picking up the paring knife she would use to carve warily.

Bob chuckled. “Guess that makes sense. You want help?”

He looked ready to stop everything to come back over and help her carve the pumpkin. Eyebrows raised and lips pursed, fingers third knuckle deep in pumpkin guts. Georgia shook her head with a smile.

“No, I got it. I wanna try your…The uh…”

“Sweet curry pepitas,” he filled in for her.

“Yeah, those — as soon as possible,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

So they carved and cleaned pumpkin seeds quietly. A record playing from the other room and glasses of wine poured once Bob had seasoned the pepitas and put them in the oven to toast. He hummed quietly in her ear as he wrapped his arms around Georgia’s waist. Head rested comfortably on her shoulder as he watched her carve. She knew it was a little messy, but she was trying her best while also attempting to not cut herself. Bob just laughed lightly as she poked out the mouth, wide smiling and goofy — matched with a small pair of round eyes.

“He’s a very happy jack-o-lantern,” he chuckled, giving her waist a squeeze.

Their little country cottage filled with the smells of curry spices and brown sugar as they put in the electric tea candle and set the pumpkin up in the window. Even though they would be the only ones who would see it.

Just a small reminder of the perfect October night, and a bit of home.

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[mossterious]

I cannot draw horses and also I don’t know if this as been done before, but, Leverage pony verse

Nate- Earth pony. This man is white bread, this man is flour, there is no way that this man is anything else than your standard Earth pony. Maggie’s a unicorn and way cooler than him. His cutie mark is a black knight cheese piece, because of course it is. He gets it late, because this man could NOT figure out what to do with his life. And turns out his life’s purpose is stealing, so there’s that.

Sophie- Unicorn. Is really good at using her magic, but doesn’t use it for heists or anything. Either is or constantly pretends to be part of the royal family, nobody is really sure at this point. Her cutie mark is the comedy/drama Greek masks, which she got a really young age. She actually has a bunch of patches to make her cutie mark look like whatever she wants, though, incoming a blank flank version. For like several years Nate thinks that Sophie’s cutie mark is a necklace. Parker fully thinks that Sophie can change her cutie mark at will.

Eliot- Earth pony. Of the farm variety, of course. He also looks basically exactly like Big Mac but with different colours you cannot change my mind. He strikes out to the city on his own to find his cutie mark, as you do, and that’s when all the Moreau stuff happens. And he does get his cutie mark, a knife, which Moreau is happy about. Eliot doesn’t have the heart to tell that that’s a cooking knife, nothing like what you’d use for cutting a person, and really that’d be a waste of a perfectly good chefs knife.

Hardison- Unicorn. Cannot use his magic for shit. Nana’s an earth pony, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t help him learn growing up. But he’s fine with it, because he has computers, so who really cares. And his cutie mark is a short line of binary code, which basically no other pony recognizes for what it is and he has to constantly explain “it’s binary code, dude. Age of the geek!” Like. All the time. But he’s fine with that, too, because it looks cool as hell.

Parker- Pegasus. Can you imagine if she wasn’t a pegasus??? She would somehow grow wings because this girl NEEDS to fly. She’s constantly airborne. Constantly upside down. Literally never has her hooves touching the floor. I truly don’t think that she has her cutie mark yet, and would get it during the episode where she learns to love stuff in season 5. It would be a lil statue, I think. She’s totally fine being a blank flank, and it makes it even harder for the Pony Feds to identify her.

[janetbrown711]

A Sadness Runs Through Him

Pigsy confronts his feelings of guilt around his past, and more importantly, around Sandy-- though it takes a panic attack or two before he's really ready.

tw for PTSD, panic attacks, past murder, and brief mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Ao3 Link

Moving.

A task universally hated by all those involved, especially if they happen to be of pig-demon descent and also run a noodle restaurant.

While the apartment came pre-furnished, Pigsy still had to think of a way to bring his own pots, pans, spices and everything else he knew either wouldn't be provided or wouldn't be how he liked it. And that meant planning.

And if Pigsy was bad at one thing, it was planning– the only reason he was good at planning out his restaurant was because his grandmother helped set up and regulate everything for the first two years. Even when she died, she left him a bunch of resources to help the transition.

He was grateful, but his grandmother couldn't help him now.

"Sir? I've been ringing this bell for five minutes!" A huffy woman clutched her purse and tapped her foot as Pigsy realized he had been spacing out again over his "moving plans" paper– which was blank, obviously.

“Sorry– what’s your order?” Pigsy asked, and the women huffed in content.

“She wants the Liangpi! I heard her while she was on the phone!” MK called from where he was mopping two feet away– Pigsy and the woman’s faces both instantly turned red.

“Kid– what did I tell you about yelling in the restaurant?” Pigsy glanced apologetically at the woman before looking at MK.

“...Don’t?” MK scratched his head.

“Yeah kid, don’t,” Pigsy sighed, punching in the order. “71.54 yuan.”

“You know you really shouldn’t have kids here if you can’t keep them or your restaurant in order,” She snipped as she handed him her credit card.

Pigsy didn’t have the energy for this.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he faked the biggest forced smile he could and handed her the receipt and card back with force.

She continued to mutter under her breath as she took a seat at a table, and Pigsy got to cooking again.

He was able to go into autopilot in an instant, so his mind naturally wandered to the subject of moving again.

It was so high up and there would be a good amount of boxes– Pigsy wanted to avoid going down to the lobby to gather his things as much as possible, but at the same time he really didn’t want to hire a moving team either since it wasn’t like it was too much– just– things. Nah– Pigsy could handle the stares, he was grown. It was fine, a-okay. Totally cool– like– uh– ice, ice cool?

Pigsy needed to stop letting the kids watch TV.

Pigsy got to slicing the beef for her dish before all he really had to do was wait, and so he went to rinse the knife in the sink, when suddenly a familiar green flash ran right past him– causing Pigsy to fall back and almost drop the knife.

“KID-!” He barked, but was ignored by the girl climbing onto the counter and leaning beyond the outdoor bar.

“Hi Mister Tang!!!” She called and waved excitedly, and Pigsy could hear his familiar laugh from a bit aways.

“Kid– get down from there– you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Pigsy took a deep breath and shook off the scare before going to rinse off that knife like he had meant to. Mei still didn’t listen, continuing to wave until Tang was at the outdoor bar.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?” Tang said, stepping through the door, which was the key to finally getting Mei down from there.

"I helped Mr. Piggy make today's noodles," she beamed with pride and Tang gave the chef a surprised look.

“Did he now?” He asked Pigsy more than Mei.

“Kid was practically begging yesterday– ‘sides, she learns fast,” Pigsy informed, done with rinsing and returning the knife to its proper place and checking on how everything else was cooking.

“I did a really good job,” Mei informed the scholar who laughed fondly.

“I can’t wait to try them,” Tang smiled, opening his laptop as he did every day.

“Thanks! I’d help more, but Mr. Piggy here says that it’s ‘too dangerous’,” Mei shook her head and got out of the kitchen to sit next to the scholar.

“I’m not wrong,” Pigsy rolled his eyes a little.

Mei didn’t say anything, but the chef knew she was sticking out her tongue at him.

“Mr. Pigsy knows what he’s talking about, Mei,” Tang sympathized with the girl, who now flopped onto the bar dramatically.

After a bit though, Tang added with a whisper, “though he can be kinda mean about it, huh?”, which sent Mei into a giggling fit.

More looks from customers. Especially that one lady.

"Yeah, Mr. Piggy is kinda mean," The girl laughed a bit more.

Pigsy gripped his ladle tight and continued to stir.

After a deep breath, Pigsy was able to completely tune out his surroundings, moving like the well oiled machine he was. Add a little bit of ginger, slice some mushrooms, check the noodles, pour it in a bowl, add the garnish and voila.

“Order for Wu Lian,” the chef called out, ringing the bell and placing the bowl on the counter before going to start Tang’s dish next.

Everything went silent again, as he carefully chopped onions and added just the right amount of ginger to the pot and began to stir– which was when he realized the bell was ringing incessantly in the background, forcing Pigsy to snap himself out of this.

“Yes..?” He asked.

It was the lady again.

“I found a hair in my noodles,” The lady frowned and crossed her arms.

I…is she serious? Pigsy had nary a hair on his chinny chin chin since– ever really (except that one time he attempted a mustache in the military but he didn’t like to think about that).

“Y…you aren’t serious, are you ma’am?” Tang spoke up for Pigsy.

“Do I look like I’m joking here? This is serious stuff– my husband works in the Health Department and I could call him right now to inform all of your customers that this– this demon is trying to poison us!” She raised her voice to get the other customers' attention.

Pigsy thought of a reply– something huffy and quick– but when he tried to speak, his tongue was heavy and a strange sensation washed over him and he felt disconnected.

Tang must’ve noticed, because he continued to speak for him. “Yeah, sure, call him over– I’d love to see you try and explain how the hair from a bald pig demon got into your noodles.”

“Ha! I’m sure this place is a real pigsty back there– so either remake the noodles, or I’ll call,” She finished her sentence with a big phony smile.

Tang clearly ran out of ideas, and now all eyes were on the chef, who was still standing around, almost watching himself and waiting to see what he’d do as well.

“Get out.”

Looks like he was going authoritative.

Wu Lian gasped. “Well– I never– my husband will be here so fast– I will just–”

“Get. Out.”

The woman scoffed again. “You demons are all the same-! Oh just you wait– I will sue you so hard and then you’ll see– you’ll see,” she continued her proclamations as she walked outside.

“...Pigsy? Are you okay?” Tang asked.

Pigsy shook his head in an attempt to feel connected to himself again.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about moving and stuff,” He waved it off and went to make sure none of Tang’s food burned.

“That lady was very mean,” MK set down the mop against the bar and sat on one of the stools.

“She was,” Mei agreed, crossing her arms.

“She was– but what do you mean moving,” Tang briefly acknowledged the two of them before returning his focus to Pigsy.

“We’re moving into a big ole penthouse uptown,” Mei informed.

“Ooh, you found a place?” Tang asked.

“Yeah– I just gotta plan how to carry everything at once,” Pigsy huffed as he continued slicing green onions.

“I can totally help-! I-if you need it– What day would you be moving?” Tang immediately offered.

“Tomorrow!” MK said excitedly.

“Tomorrow?! Pigsy! Why didn’t you think to ask for help sooner?!” Tang sounded genuinely baffled, which was a little funny to the chef.

“Tang, it’s fine– like I said, I can manage,” Pigsy shook his head, adding the onions to the pot and stirring.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you need to.”

Pigsy poured Tang’s noodles into a bowl, taking a deep breath before eventually nodding, going over to serve him as he said “Fine– fine, just… Yes, you can help.”

Tang smiled that stupid smile he always had, with its stupid little tilt before he grabbed chopsticks and began eating.

“I can show you how I fit under the sink!” MK pointed out, kicking his legs excitedly.

“Yeah! And I can show you the cool TV! And Mr. Piggy can show you his bedroom!”

Tang choked on his noodles and Pigsy felt his heart stop.

.o0o.

Yeah, the lady was totally bluffing about the phone call, no health inspector ever came, and even if they did Pigsy knew he’d pass.

The rest of the night had gone without a hitch, though Tang did have to leave earlier than usual, which meant it got quiet pretty quickly. The good part to that was that it meant Pigsy was comfortable with the idea of closing early for once in his life, and so they all got to bed at a not-so-shitty hour.

Pigsy still fucking despised his alarm’s painful tone the following morning, of course. Especially because it was set even earlier than average so Pigsy could go get the moving truck from the rental place– though not without waiting for Tang to arrive so he could watch over MK and Mei (which was something he realized he hadn’t quite thought about before).

Once that was settled, and Pigsy checked in with Tang to make sure the kids ate, they got to putting the dozen or so boxes into the truck downstairs and it was go time.

Now… let it be known that Pigsy was a law-abiding citizen most every single day. He understood and had great respect for the rules of the road.

However…

The truck only had two, maybe three seats if you think you can place someone in the middle.

And so Pigsy drove, Tang sat in shotgun, and MK and Mei… Well, MK’s skill of fitting under the pipes was put to use in the space under the glovebox, and Mei was managing fine in that “middle seat”.

Look– neither Pigsy nor Tang owned a car and calling a cab seemed like a dumb idea so— it’s what they had.

“We are so going to get pulled over,” Pigsy muttered to himself as he got onto the main road.

“It was your idea,” Tang said.

“Hey– that’s my face,” MK giggled from the floor of the vehicle.

“Sorry MK,” Tang apologized and readjusted himself.

“I know! I know! I just–” Pigsy sighed. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Pigsy could feel the look Tang was giving him burning on his skin, but he kept on driving anyway.

Green Light.

“Pigsy–”

“I’m fine, Tang. You’re right. Sorry,” Pigsy shot. Tang raised his hands in his defense but didn’t say much so silence filled the truck momentarily.

This, however, was shattered instantly when Mei asked, “Mr. Piggy, what’s ‘booba’?”, which startled Pigsy so much it affected his steering.

“W-well, that’s– uh– hmm– that’s–” Pigsy tried to think of a response, but words were unable to form as his heart started to pound.

“It’s pronounced bow-ba, n-not… that way,” Tang touched Pigsy’s arm lightly while speaking to Mei. “And it’s a type of tea drink with tapioca pearls– it was big in the 90s, not so much right now.”

Green Light.

A car behind Pigsy honked at him for his sporadic driving and Pigsy wished he could give him a piece of his mind. The car gave him the opportunity as they switched lanes just to cut in front, to which Pigsy almost responded by flipping them off, but Tang put the hand down and gestured to Mei and MK with his head.

Yellow Light.

Pigsy sighed as he pumped the brakes to a halt, annoyed at both the difficulty of the action due to the truck’s age, and slightly annoyed Tang didn’t let him flip off the other driver. He was made even more annoyed though when the previously mentioned car made it past the intersection.And somehow even worse, another car behind him honked at him, and needless to say Pigsy was starting to feel his blood boil.

“Mr. Piggy, why are they honking at you?” MK asked from under the glovebox.

Pigsy rubbed his forehead as the car finally halted. It wasn’t like he was a piss poor driver, he just… hadn’t been on the road since– a while– but it was fine, everything was fine. If only he could actually fucking tell MK that, but whatever.

Tang took a glance at the mute chef and decided to handle that too. “Well, MK, some drivers are… mean.”

Mean.

Mei laughed, “Mr. Piggy’s mean too– maybe that’s why.”

Red light.

Blood instantly began pounding in Pigsy’s ears, his grip on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to turn white. Tang was saying something but Pigsy was just watching the light– the red one– the one on the right. He was going to drive straight ahead and he was in the front of his lane. He wasn’t going to be mean, he was going to be attentive and then everything would be fine and they’d all get there on time and they’d be all moved in and everything would just be so fucking fine.

Still red.

A hand attempted to touch his shoulder, which made Pigsy jump. Tang said something while Mei spoke even quieter behind him. Pigsy didn’t care– he was so fucking focused on driving. It didn’t matter that it felt like he’d walked up fifteen flights of stairs, Pigsy was doing what he was supposed to and he was doing it fine. He was fine, everything was so goddamn fine it was like they were at the apartment already. Sure he wasn’t nice, he was never nice. Who gives a shit if you reach your location anyways? He didn’t need to be loved. He didn’t even need to be liked. He was fine. This was fine. He deserved this anyways.

Green light.

Pigsy immediately began driving again, trying to stop his eyes from darting in every direction as hazards and sounds made themselves very present in his overstimulated ears. Especially the people in the car.The ones he was responsible for. The ones he wasn’t supposed to fail or let anything bad happen to. Was that a siren? Pigsy couldn’t think about that right now. Driving. Obeying the law to hide breaking it.

Green light.

Almost there now, just a few more blocks. Just don’t have a fucking heart attack and kill everyone in this vehicle because if you end up responsible for their deaths, you’ll never forgive yourself. What happened to Hai Xin is your fault. You remember how happy Sandy was. How in love he was. You remember your military friends too. Gone, shell of himself, gone, murdered, murdered, dead, dead, dead, dead, fucking dead.

“Pigsy–”

You didn’t go to court that day. You couldn’t stand looking at him. You still can’t. You broke him. You destroyed his life. You are beyond mean, you are cruel– violent– explosive– hideous– revolting–

“PIGSY– WATCH OUT–!”

The screeching of tires sent Pigsy out of his spiral as he slammed the brakes with full force, and the red light runner barely avoided a full-on collision. Everyone lurched forward, but Tang kept Mei from flying into the dash board. In a breath, Pigsy was able to pull off to the side, where he immediately parked, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter in the cupholder, and got out of the car, ignoring Tang’s confused calls (not that he understood them anyways).

Pigsy walked.

He walked and walked and walked until he found himself a suitable bench by the–

Of course he was by the goddamn pier.

When Pigsy started to feel himself choke on the lump rapidly forming in his throat, he lit a cigarette and took a nice, long drag. His eyes tingled at the sensation as the usual sting filled his senses, but he was used to it. It was relaxing. Pigsy was relaxed right now. Especially with the ocean waves. Especially knowing Sandy probably doesn’t live too far from here– that he and–

Pigsy took another drag before he could think more. Again, calm washed over his body as the hot air flowed through him, giving him an addictive peace of mind.

“Pigsy? Pigsy, where are you?”

Tang was calling for him.

Pigsy didn’t care. He kept on inhaling the toxic fumes.

“Pigsy? P– Pigsy-!” Tang found him and immediately ran to the bench.

“Pigsy, A-are you okay? You were–”

“Fuck off, Tang,” Pigsy looked away from him, silencing Tang instantly.

“I… what?” The scholar stepped back. “Pigsy, what is going on? Why are you acting like this?”

Pigsy’s eyes were tired and sore as he unwillingly glanced at the ships on the docks, wondering if any of them belonged to Sandy or he managed to leave this shithole for good and leave him behind.

Another breath.

Tang sat down on the bench. “I… didn’t think you smoked.”

Exhale.

“Sometimes. What’s it matter to you?” Pigsy now looked at the ground, the brightness of the morning sun against the ocean waves hurting his eyes even more than the cigarette smoke.

“Pigsy,” Tang warned.

“What?” Pigsy grunted, still refusing to look at him.

“Pigsy– just– stop–! Stop acting like you don’t know that the kids and I care about you so just– tell me what’s wrong-! What happened back there? Please– I need answers– we need answers,” Tang grabbed his arm, and Pigsy finally looked at him.

…

Fear.

Tang had overwhelming fear in his eyes.

“I… I don’t know…” Pigsy was as honest as he could be, flicking his cigarette.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Tang asked, his voice low and soft. Pigsy shook his head, taking a drag.

“I don’t know, Tang. I just– I guess it started yesterday– I just– I keep losing control of myself– it’s like I’m just watching myself and feel like my hearts just all– tense and weird and shit and it’s all at the same time– I dunno,” Pigsy knew how stupid he sounded but it was the best he had.

“Oh, a panic attack,” Tang nodded to himself. “Is… that also what happened yesterday?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know, Tang,” Pigsy rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, that’s okay,” His customer got a little closer to the chef and wrapped an arm around the bench, his hand slightly hovering over Pigsy’s back. “Do you know what might’ve triggered it?”

Pigsy shifted uncomfortably, taking a long drag as he tried to and then immediately tried to ignore the possibilities.

“Pigsy, you have to tell me so I can help– because I do know a little bit about these things and– yeah I’m no ‘expert’ or anything but– I want to help,” Tang pleaded with the pig again.

Pigsy leaned back, releasing smoke before he closed his eyes and sighed. “I… god, it sounds so stupid but– I think… If I had to guess, then it was when the kid said I was…mean,” Pigsy mumbled that last word, but Tang understood.

“What? But Mei didn’t–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Pigsy turned to him sharply, smoke flaring out of his nose (which had the fun side effect of making the chef’s head spin).

“R-right– Sorry,” Tang quickly apologized. “I’m sorry she said that– and I’m sorry I encouraged it.”

“Sorry for snapping,” Pigsy sighed and went back to looking at the ocean. If it didn’t remind him of his crushing guilt, Pigsy would find it calming.

“If… you don’t mind me asking… Why does that upset you so much?” Tang looked at the ocean briefly too.

Pigsy’s cigarette was just about done, so he put it on the ground and smothered it with his foot before grabbing and lighting another, all while Tang watched on, his expression unreadable.

“Because it’s… You’re gonna deny it, but I know that I’m not exactly ‘nice’ and you are and it just– I try to convince myself I can do this but every time I hear something like that it just reminds me of how much of an asshole I am or have been– and then I think about when I was in the military– and then I think about Sandy a-and–” the lump in his throat returned, so Pigsy choked it with smoke.

“Oh– Sandy…” Tang nodded slowly. “You… never told me what the deal with him is.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Right…” Tang took a deep breath, before clearing his throat a bit.

“Look,” he started. “You’ve already told me a lot today, and it’s not like I can force you to tell me anything anyways– just know that– yeah, it sounds really really stupid and obvious, but you shouldn’t keep all these emotions and past feelings to yourself– it’s not– uh– healthy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pigsy said flatly, flicking his cigarette once again.

“And whatever you tell me, I promise I won’t le–”

“Don’t.”

Tang blinked. “Pigsy–”

“Don’t. You don’t know–”

“Then tell me, so I can know and I can make that decision for myself.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Pigsy, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I can’t keep watching you torture yourself forever,” Tang placed his hand atop Pigsy’s and gave it a squeeze.

Pigsy rubbed Tang’s hand with his thumb, the embrace warmer than the pollution in his lungs and throat. He then looked into Tang’s heavenly brown eyes, and remembered all the promises he had made the day after they had kissed. About not hurting him– especially on purpose.

Get your shit together, Pigsy.

“...Later. Maybe after we get everything settled in the apartment.”

Tang squeezed his hand even more. “Good.”

When they stood, Pigsy was filled with an overwhelming desire to hug or kiss him, but ultimately smothered his cigarette before stoically heading back to the truck.

However, the pair came to a halt when they heard panicked whispers coming from behind a trash can, and when Pigsy went to look, surprise surprise, MK and Mei had been spying on them.

“Hi Mr. Piggy,” MK waved, before smelling the smoke and making a face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah kid– I’m sorry for scaring the both of you– I lost myself a bit back there,” Pigsy scratched the back of his neck.

MK winced at that, but Mei hugged him, which startled the chef.

“A-are you okay kid?” was the only thing Pigsy could think to say.

“I-I’m really sorry I made you run away– I-i won’t do it again, promise!” Mei said, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Hey now,” Pigsy broke her embrace to get on his knees and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault I got… scared. It’s just something that happens to me sometimes– I’ll work on it, I swear. Don’t stress yourself.”

“Okay Mr. Piggy,” Mei nodded slowly before hugging him again, this time around his neck since he was level with her. Not knowing what else to do, Pigsy returned the embrace, almost startled by how comforting it was. Soon enough MK joined in too, and Pigsy felt like he was almost going to cry.

He hadn’t had a hug this good since his grandmother was in good health.

“C-c’mon, let’s get to our new place, hm?” Pigsy forced himself to break the embrace before he broke down again. The kiddos nodded and they were back in the truck in no time, headed to their (mostly) new hoity-toity lives.

.o0o.

It took roughly two hours to get everything all settled, then unlocked, then transferred from the truck to the apartment, and by then everyone was hungry and so Pigsy used it as an opportunity to look for new local restaurants, frustrated by the overwhelming amount of chains. They eventually found a stupid expensive sit down restaurant and ate there, and while some of the waiters were confused by Pigsy, it was generally okay. They then returned the truck, got boba– not booba– at Mei’s insistence, and when they finally got back to the apartment, MK and Mei went to their rooms to set up what things they had and hopefully not fall asleep until dinner.

And then it was just Tang and Pigsy alone, unpacking his things, which took a lot longer than expected since Pigsy was a terrible planner and the boxes were…disorganized to say the least. It took at least three hours before the two of them were able to reorganize all of the boxes so they had a system they could then work with, and by then the sun was starting to set.

“Woah, nice jacket Pigsy,” Tang whistled as he pulled out a thick brown shearling jacket.

Fuck. Of course it was that jacket– that stupid stupid, really nice jacket from back then. Of course it was– and now He was going to have to talk about… that because he was acting all weird. Great.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“Yeah, it’s from my time in the military– hence some of the patches– though I… tried to remove most,” Pigsy admitted, hanging up his one dress shirt in the walk-in closet.

“Ah,” was all Tang said. “Still– this is really nice– and I bet you look cute in it,” Tang said, before slapping a hand over his mouth, which made Pigsy laugh.

“Ohmygod I can’t believe I said that out loud,” Tang’s face was rapidly turning red, which just made Pigsy laugh even more.

“It’s alright, Tang,” Pigsy patted his shoulder and took the jacket, examining the folds and stitches in the leather carefully.

“When’s the last time you wore it?” Tang asked innocently.

“B-bajie– I swear I didn’t mean to– I didn’t mean to– It was an accident– I thought sh-she– A-and now– I-i can’t live with myself– Bajie please–”

“...Are you okay Pigsy? Is it the jacket?” Tang asked, and Pigsy realized he was gripping the jacket so tight his knuckles were white again.

“Bajie y-you have to help me– you know I didn’t mean it– I never would– I loved her– I love her– please–”

Pigsy took a deep breath. “Kind of…” he grabbed a hanger and placed it on the rack next to his other jacket.

“O-oh– oh no– I’m so sorry Pigsy– Forget I mentioned it– we aren’t done yet, so let’s just–”

“No… I need to tell you some time tonight and I get the feeling that if I don’t do it now I’ll just try to make myself forget,” Pigsy clenched his eyes shut for a moment, memories of Sandy flashing in his mind.

“Do… you want to go somewhere else?” Tang asked carefully. Pigsy glanced around and thought.

“I could use some fresh air,” He shrugged, referring to the balcony attached to his room, and so the two of them headed out there, both leaning against the railing and taking in the view for a bit first– which was especially gorgeous because of the previously mentioned sunset.

“So…” Pigsy started, though he was quick to realize how hard it was to find the proper words to describe his predicament.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to Pigsy– remember that,” Tang touched his shoulder in assurance.

“I know, I know, but it’s like you said– it ain’t exactly healthy, and you deserve the choice to know what I’ve done and then leave me– it’s unfair to keep you hostage,” Pigsy sighed, the remaining pack of cigarettes sitting heavy in his pants pocket.

“I’m not a hostage here, but whatever helps,” Tang said half jokingly.

“Right– well– um…” Pigsy took another breath. “So… I– well I– I was a really terrible kid, okay? Like– just the definition of a punk who needed a good whack over the head until he got his shit together,” Pigsy started, and though he could see Tang was trying not to judge or interrupt, he was very clearly struggling from his expression alone.

“S-sorry-! Sorry, I’ll try harder not to– express– emotion…” Tang apologized, clearing his throat and trying to set his face to neutral, and Pigsy decided it was best if he just kept his eyes forward for now.

“Well, anyways, I was a little shit and I– I had a friend– Sandy– who I knew through school and– Jesus, he was a real nice guy. Big and tough and scary, but nice deep in there,” Pigsy blinked away images of him to keep his focus. “We were quick to become a duo of punks, though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was clearly the one who was “influencing him”. His folks were absolutely terrible and all, but he was always more hesitant to start shit than I was.”

Pigsy glanced at Tang, who he confirmed was listening intently. Pigsy took another breath before continuing.

“When we were teens, we got into some steep shit– and being demons and all meant we were set up to be in prison for a long, long, long time… unless…” Pigsy dug his nails into his skin.

“...Unless you joined the military, right?” Tang guessed. Pigsy nodded.

“Since we were little shits of course we took the first opportunity to get out of trouble and wipe our slates clean– but– jesus– W-we made a lot of friends– demon friends, which I guess was our first mistake since it’s basically fact that most demons don’t… make it back from the military too often,” The pig demon’s breath was starting to get shaky so Tang placed a grounding hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly, which did help quite a bit.

“I-i was a real big coward, s-so it’s easy to say more than a few of their deaths are more than likely on my shoulders, you know? I-i mean I know– I know I didn’t get them enlisted, but I just– I didn’t jump on that grenade, I didn’t act fast enough to save Dino or Ace o-or anyone– but all that I-i think I could’ve lived with if…”

The cigarettes were taunting him in his pocket now, as well as the sake in the cabinet. He hated this. He hated every single part of this. He desperately wanted to run or to leap right off this balcony and– No, no. He owed this to Tang.

“When we got back– I-i just wanted to forget it– all of it. Meanwhile Sandy was keen on remembering them all– he even had a little shrine for them in his place– we fought like hell that day– but other than that w-we were okay– well, I thought he was doing okay– he even managed to find himself a-a nice girlfriend–”

Hai Xin.

“Oh, well that’s nice…” Tang said. Pigsy knew it was to try and comfort him, but his words just made Pigsy want to slam down fifty bottles of sake.

“S-she was a saint, l-like how he kinda used to be– she brought out the best of him like that,” Pigsy nodded along, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“S-she and him– they were gonna get married– it would be in the summer on a boat with the sunset behind them a-and then they were gonna have kids– a bunch of ‘em– Sandy told me and everything– he even asked me to be his best man even before he proposed– it sounded so nice, Tang– he was so happy,” Tears were streaming down the chef’s cheeks now, but when Tang opened his arms for a hug, Pigsy shook his head and continued.

“B-but one n-night I get a-a call… from him, from Sandy– a-and he’s just– he couldn’t stop crying a-a-and apologizing a-and swearing he didn’t m-mean it a-and– he kept swearin’ it was an accident– it took fifty goddamn minutes before he was able to get himself together— a-and– a-and when he did I-i could see why…”

“No…” Tang gasped softly.

“H-he killed her, Tang. The court declared it as PTSD induced violence– a nightmare woke him up and in his confusion h-he attacked her a-and– he was sentenced to prison for five years and court mandated therapy a-and– god– It’s all my fault, Tang– it’s all my fault-!” Pigsy buried his head in his hands and embraced his tears now. “I broke my best friend a-and the love of his life is dead because of me.”

“Oh Pigsy–”

“N-no, because you know what? Th-that’s not even the worst goddamn part-!” Pigsy’s breath hitched before he laughed like a madman. “T-the worst part is that I could even testify for the best, kindest, most loyal friend I’ve ever had in my whole entire fucking life! I-i mean– Jesus, what kind of a friend am I?! F-first I made him a delinquent, almost got him placed into prison, basically force him to join the war which emotionally scars him forever, a-and then when his PTSD takes away what little joy he had, I-i couldn’t even be there for him– and then he went to prison anyways-! This is why you should hate me, Tang– why everyone should hate me– god, I can’t do this–”

Pigsy went to leave, but Tang grabbed his arm and forced him into a tight embrace. Pigsy tried to fight it, but Tang was surprisingly steadfast and kept him in his embrace until he gave up and buried his head into Tang’s chest.

“I’m so sorry Pigsy…” Tang whispered as he stroked his back.

Pigsy wanted to fight that. He was tempted to say, “you have no fucking right to say that” and “you didn’t know them– you should be sorry for them, not me” or even “serves me right” but Pigsy was exhausted, and so let Tang have this one as years of repressed sobs and shakes released themselves onto Tang’s scarf.

“Pigsy, listen… it’s not your f–”

Pigsy snapped right back.

“Tang, don’t.” The pig broke the embrace and tried to wipe his own tears away, but it would’ve been easier to dam up Huangguoshu Waterfall.

“Pigsy–”

“No. I don’t need to hear it– I don’t care– I-i need you to accept it. Denial’ll just hurt both of us– It’s just something I have to fucking live with– you too, i-if you want me.”

If you want me.

Pigsy knew he wouldn’t now.

Tang was silent, his emotions clearly all over the place and Pigsy stood there, feeling like a fucking baby with how many tears were just falling uncontrollably at this rate. Again he thought of the cigarettes in his pocket and the sake in the kitchen, but he decided to wait until after Tang told him he was leaving them– he needed to face the consequences for his cowardice completely sober.

“Okay. I’ll drop it. I’m sorry,” Tang said.

Pigsy blinked. “N-no.”

“No? I just apologized– what’s there to ‘no’?” Tang was genuinely confused.

“I said ‘no’ Tang– y-you’re supposed to be angry-! You’re supposed to hate me– kick me– scream at me– leave me– You aren’t supposed to just– accept this!” Pigsy shouted, nostrils flaring.

“Well I’m not and you can’t make me!” Tang shouted back. “I-i really care about you Pigsy– a-and I meant what I said earlier– I won’t leave because of what you did in the past– all I care about is the here and the now.”

“What kind of a moron are you?!”

“A moron who’s practically been in love with you for a year-!” Tang gestured furiously at himself, though lowered his hands when he realized what he said.

“L-look– what I mean, Pigsy, i-is that… I-i’ve cared about you for a long time, a-and–”

“I didn’t know your name a week ago,” Pigsy cut him off, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“I don’t care, Pigsy! That’s the thing– I don’t care– I didn’t care when you weirdly had two kids in the back of your restaurant, I didn’t care when you adopted them that day out of the fucking blue, I didn’t care when you went silent as a ghost after I kissed you, I didn’t care when you had a panic attack at the wheel which could’ve almost killed us, I didn’t care when you told me to fuck off, and I sure as hell don’t care now.”

“Why not?!” Pigsy shook his head violently, and Tang grabbed his hands.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, Pigsy, a-and I meant what I said, I-i– I love you,” The scholar squeezed the chef’s caloused hands tightly, forcing Pigsy to look into his eyes, forced to confront that the man in front of him was telling the truth.

He was telling the truth.

Oh god– what was he supposed to do with that– oh god oh god oh god–

Before Pigsy could overthink and ruin this, he hugged Tang as tight as he could. He didn’t know what his goal was, but he just stood there, holding his favorite customer, never, ever wanting to let go of him. Tang returned the embrace right back, and Pigsy buried his head in his shoulder and the tears came back in an instant.

It took a moment before Pigsy realized Tang was crying too, which made Pigsy hug him tighter and stroke his back in a similar fashion that Tang did earlier.

After a long, long time of standing like that, Pigsy croaked, “I’m so sorry, Tang.”

“Why?”

“I-i… doubt humans are this complicated,” Pigsy half-joked, which made Tang laugh a little.

“I’m not a clean slate entirely either,” He admitted. “But even if that wasn’t true, I wouldn’t mind. You mean a lot to me, Pigsy.”

Pigsy’s shoulders tensed at how much he was sounding like Sandy, but Pigsy wouldn’t ruin this– not right now.

“You mean a lot to me too, Tang. A-and I swear I’ll be everything a-and anything you need in the future– really– I-i–”

The chef would’ve rambled more, but Tang lifted his chin and kissed him.

“All I ask is for your company, and if something’s bothering you, tell me. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just listening,” Tang smiled softly and Pigsy hugged him again.

“I-i can try that,” The chef whispered and Tang nodded in approval, kissing his forehead which still somehow managed to send butterflies fluttering down the pig demon’s stomach.

“I’ll hold you to it then,” Tang embraced the chef once more.

Once again, the two remained in their caress for a long, long time as cool night air settled over the two of them and their heartbeats became one.

After five minutes, a knock on the sliding door broke their embrace. Pigsy and Tang quickly wiped their eyes before they opened the door and allowed MK to step out.

“Mr. Piggy, I can’t find my uniform,” MK got straight to the point and informed his legal guardian.

Pigsy chuckled tiredly. “We’ll find it later, kid,” he said, ruffling his hair.

“Oh– well– I thought we might wanna find it now since we start school tomorrow.”

Pigsy froze.

“...Kid?”

“Yyyyyyyes Mr. Piggy..?” MK bounced on his heels.

“What day is it?”

“Sunday,” MK happily enformed.

Well… Shit.

The kid was right– tomorrow was their first day of school and Pigsy hadn’t thought about preparing them for it at all today.

Well this is gonna be just swell, ain’t it?