#Decorative apron front sinks

[mycustomcopper]

In addition to their aesthetic benefits, apron front copper sinks are highly functional. Their deep basins make it easy to wash large pots, pans, and even small kitchen accessories. For families or individuals who frequently cook, the large capacity of these sinks makes daily tasks more efficient and convenient. Moreover, copper’s antimicrobial properties make it an ideal material for a kitchen sink, as it helps reduce the spread of bacteria. When selecting a kitchen copper sink, consider its style and finish to complement the overall theme of your kitchen. From traditional Mexican copper sinks to sleek, modern variations, these apron front sinks offer both practicality and a touch of luxury. Whether you’re aiming for a rustic style kitchen or simply looking to upgrade your space with a functional yet decorative piece, an apron front sink can provide the perfect finishing touch.

[made-to-order]

Ultimately, the key to making your sink area a true focal point lies in the combination of materials and textures. Whether you prefer rustic or modern design, mixing custom-made copper sinks with original kitchen counters and Mexican Talavera tiles can create an irresistible visual appeal. These elements work together to draw attention to the heart of your kitchen, where function meets artistry. By thoughtfully designing around your sink, you can enhance the room’s overall ambiance, ensuring that every detail, from the decorative apron front to the vibrant backsplash, contributes to the space’s unique style and personality.

[rusticahouse]

Maintaining your kitchen copper sink is crucial for preserving its beauty and longevity. Regular cleaning with mild soap and water, along with drying the sink after each use, helps prevent water spots and mineral buildup. Embrace the natural patina that develops over time, which adds unique character to the sink, or use a copper cleaner occasionally if you prefer a shinier appearance. A farmhouse copper washbasin is more than just a functional fixture; it’s a statement piece that elevates your kitchen’s rustic charm. By carefully installing and maintaining your apron front copper sink, you ensure it remains a stunning focal point in your home for years to come, perfectly blending with your rustic kitchen decor and enhancing the overall aesthetic appeal.

[ellemarianne555]

(Pumpkin) Spice

Summary: cozy fall vibes incoming, Aegon is a cute house husband baking cookies and you just want to spoil him a little. Modern AU.

Content warnings: mdni, swearing, blowjobs, implied ass play, hint of pegging/rimming. Minor mentions of alcoholism, very subby Aegon.

Word Count: 1k ish

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🍁๋࣭ ⭑🍂༘⋆

After a long day at work, you slid your keys into the front door only to be greeted by the sweet smell of cinnamon and brown sugar. You smiled to yourself, your boyfriend must be baking again.

Placing your keys in the bowl by the door, you slowly crept into the kitchen where you could see Aegon singing along to the radio as he shaped little balls of cookie dough. Leaning back on the counter, you smiled to yourself. He was just so sweet. When you had first met Aegon, he was just out of rehab, you had seen him coming into your building looking so sad you just couldn’t help but talk to him. Pretty boys shouldn’t be so upset. You learned that he had just moved into the building in order to escape the strict rules laid out by his parent’s trust fund, that had driven him to his unhealthy dependency on alcohol.

Over time, Aegon would come over to your apartment with baked goods. Explaining that he had no real job and wanted to do something useful with his time. His pumpkin cinnamon rolls were out of this world, and it wasn’t long before you two were together and he slowly moved his few things into your home.

“Hey, Sunfyre.” You said as the small fluffy blond dog ran up to you and expectantly dropped his bone at your foot. Aegon still hadn’t noticed your entrance, he was too busy dancing to some radio hit by his new favourite artist about that movie, was it Juno?

You came behind your boyfriend, and slotted your body behind his, kissing and nipping his neck softly. He froze before smiling happily as you kissed him sweetly.

“How was your day at work?” He asked thoughtfully.

“The absolute worst.” You moaned as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. “But a lot better now that I’m here.” He grinned and turned around, wiping his hands on the apron decorated with pumpkins you had bought him. He was wearing a white cream jumper, several sizes too big with a sausage dog embroidered on it. With his pale skin and white blond hair, he looked like an angel. One you wanted to ruin.

He grinned again, mischievously this time, as he deepened the kiss between you and grabbed at your blouse so as to pull it off. Cursing at the small buttons, you giggled and helped him to take it off. His face seemed to light up as he saw all of you, and you knew you would never get used to how much he adored you.

Sinking to your knees, you untied his apron and impatiently tugged down his sweatpants. His half-hard cock fell out and you laughed. “No underwear?”

He squirmed before smiling shyly, “I was hoping you’d be home soon”. You responded by taking his cock into your mouth. He groaned, so devastatingly, you were sorry that your mouth was occupied and you couldn’t tell him to be a good boy and keep quiet.

Aegon didn’t necessarily have a big dick, but you were perfectly content with the four and a half inches he did have. It stretched you out perfectly and left you wanting more, that he was happily able to provide with his tongue and clever hands. Sucking on his fat cock, you hollowed your cheeks as he sunk back onto the counter and tried to cover his face with his hands. You paused and reached up, swatting his hand away.

“I want to see you come undone for me.”

You hollowed out your cheeks and ignored the ache in the back of your throat as you took him down deeper. Using your spit as lube, you took what was left of him into your hands and tugged slowly.

“M-more. P-please” he whined as you smiled around his cock. The pace become fast and unforgiving as his sharp, high cries filled the room. He squirmed furiously as he choked out “I’m coming. I’m coming. Please!”

You started sucking him even harder as your wrist nearly cramped with the pace. Finally, he groaned, deep and content as he spilled his load into your mouth.

You rose up and kissed him, letting the remnants of his cone flow back into his mouth as you held his chin. “Swallow.” his eyes were teary and red as he nodded and gulped before he leant in to kiss you again.

The kiss was sweet and tender as you both sought to get back your breath. He broke off the kiss and leaned back in the counter.

“You know. The cookies aren’t the only surprise I have for you.” He turned back around towards the sink and you could see a gleaming pink jewel nestled between his cheeks. You swore low and filthily, as the fire alarm went off and Aegon lunged to pull his burnt cookies out of the oven.

You really couldn’t care less about eating them, not when your boyfriend had prepared a whole different kind of treat for you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🍁๋࣭ ⭑🍂༘⋆

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want a part two, I know pegging isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so then you really wouldn’t want to know what Aegon has stashed in the pantry. Love you all xxx

[dicejpg]

You should have left a note - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: Five is ordered to kill his ex-commission partner. He doesn't want to.

Note: I made this really late at night. I would really appreciate requests for Five :)

(Not edited)

WORD COUNT: 1K

2nd POV:

Five peers down at the paper that bears your name, hands shaky. He was ordered by the Handler--just this morning--to terminate you for immediate extraction.

It’s been a year since you left Five since you left the Commission. He'd been rightfully frustrated since your abrupt departure. He didn't get a note, nor a goodbye. Sure, you two weren’t all that close as partners, but he at least deserved a warning, he thought.

He doesn't know how to feel about the idea of blowing your brains out with his M1935.

You’ve been gone for approximately a year, leaving no trace or hints as to where you may be. But, the Commission finally tracked you down to a small town in New Jersey, 1978.

When he arrives in front of your supposed living quarters, he is taken aback by the rundown apartment complex in front of him. A real shithole. Its bricks are chipped and sun-bleached, presumably from old age. Police sirens and gunshots are audible from a neighborhood away, giving away the unsafeness of the area.

It’s twelve o’ clock at night. Five quietly blinks up to your numbered room. If he remembers correctly from the paper, it's room 395. Third floor, second door to the left.

Your apartment is dark, gloomy. Five does not turn on the lights, not wanting to give away his existence. But, he assumes you’re not home anyways. Your job as a bartender at a rundown restaurant downtown would have you occupied for at least another hour.

He wonders through the confined living space, taking note of a few books scattered on the coffee table, and an unmade bed. There's a small pile of dishes in the sink, a pot and two bowls. There are no picture frames, or wall decor. The room is barren with no personality at all.

Five would not even know that you lived here from the looks of the place.

It smells like you though, he unwillingly notices. He finds it oddly comforting nostalgic.

He’s in the middle of examining some scattered papers on the ground when he hears the jingling of keys outside the door. Along with your whistling.

Five blinks behind a window curtain in no time at all, blood pumping fast. You must have gotten off early.

Your humming becomes more prominent as you enter your living space. The sound of keys being thrown on the kitchen counter makes Five jolt, but he still goes unnoticed.

You make no move to turn on the lights, so Five risks a glance at you.

Your head is blocked by the freezer door, but he notices your disheveled work attire. Some black slacks and an untucked white button down shirt. Your apron hangs on a hook by the door.

When the freezer door is closed, he notices your face. It's the same as when he last saw you, but with sadder eyes and dark eye-bags. His heart sinks, he starts feeling uncharacteristically torn.

He watches you crack open a frozen dinner meal and place it in the microwave. You roll your sleeves up to your elbows while you wait for the food to heat up. Five always thought you had nice, toned forearms. He stares at them, at you.

His eyes are intense, observing as you lean against the counter, stretching and running your fingers through your hair. He feels his stomach knot.

Five was definitely the wrong person for this job. He readys his gun quietly.

You freeze at the almost imperceptible sound of a gun clicking, slowly turning your head in Five's direction. He doesn't see the way your eyebrows furrow because he's fully behind the curtain again.

The microwave beeps quietly, but you make no move to retrieve your dinner.

The sound of footsteps approaching Five's hiding spot makes sweat bead on his forehead. He debates letting himself be caught, but decides against it. Five blinks behind you, aiming his gun.

But you've already kicked the thing out of his hands, fully expecting his maneuver. You tackle him to the ground, gripping his wrists and pinning his legs with yours. Not before kicking the gun far away, under the couch.

"God, of course they sent you, Five." You breathe, glaring down at him in dismay. "The Handler's such a sadistic- I mean, sending my own partner to kill me? Is she kidding?" You ramble is distress, cursing your ex-employer.

Five gazes up at you, swallowing thickly. He fights thoughtlessly against your grasp, but tries nothing else to get loose. He does not want to kill you.

"Let go of me." He warns, feeling fuzzy and not knowing what else to say. His eyes never leave yours.

"Why don't you just blink away? You're fully capable of getting out of this." You accuse, getting close to his face. Your breath tickles his nose. It's minty.

Five hesitates, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he fails to regain his train of thought.

He remains quiet.

"You don't really want to kill me." Your grip on his wrists falters slightly when he doesn't object.

He softly pulls his wrists free, and you let him sit up. But you keep his legs pinned just in case. There is a strangely comfortable silence as you wait for Five to find the words.

"You should have just told me you were going to leave." Five whispers finally. His tone is unreadable. "Or at least left a note."

You look at him with a pained expression. "You're right. I should have." It's something you regretted for months after abandoning him. There is an intake of breath right before you add: "I missed uh- I miss you." You redden, not looking at him.

He exhales with a hidden smile. "Me too."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: role playing

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, role playing (maid), m receiving oral, p in v sex

you adjust your skirt, smoothing down the frilly white apron. you turn and admire yourself in the mirror, leaning forward slightly and admiring the way your bum peaks out from under the short skirt at the slightest bit of movement. 

you head into the living room, hoping to genuinely get some dusting done as you pick up your cloth, running it over various surfaces, focusing especially on the fireplace mantle and the various trinkets and photos that are collecting dust.

you hear the door slam shut and smile gently, turning to watch rafe enter the room over your shoulder. you quickly turn back to the mantle, leaning down and rubbing at a dirty spot.

“why, hello, mr. cameron.” you say.

“hello, y/n.” rafe says, moving and sitting down on the couch, eyes on you as you clean. you move to the coffee table directly in front of the couch, rearranging the candles the sit there, as well as cleaning a bit of dirt that came from the plant decorating the living room.

“how was work, mr. cameron?” you ask, bending directly in front of him, knowing exactly where his eyes are.

“good.” he says breathlessly, watching as you straighten, giving you a swat on the ass when you move to walk away.

“sir!” you gasp, hand coming to your bum, right over the spot that he slapped, dropping your rag.

“come here, y/n.” he says, holding a hand out to you. you gently place your hand in his, but as soon as your skin touches his, he tugs you onto his lap, forcing another gasp out of you.

“i have something that needs cleaning.” rafe says, bouncing you on his lap, letting you feel what is swelling in his pants.

you smile wickedly, turning and looking at rafe. “well, then i must clean it. is that not my job here, mr. cameron?”

“it is.” rafe says, “on your knees.”

you slide to your knees between rafes legs, hands moving carefully as you unbutton his pants, bringing the zipper down slowly. he lifts his hips slightly so you can tug them down, along with his underwear.

his cock is hard when it’s revealed. you blink up at rafe, “sir, what do you think is the best way to clean it? should i use my hands… or my mouth?”

“definitely mouth.” rafe says, hand coming to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the blush you applied earlier.

“right away then, mr. cameron.” you say, leaning forward and licking at the head of his cock. you grab the base to hold it steady, lapping and enjoying the salty taste on your tongue.

“fuck, you are cleaning me so well.” rafe says as you lick at his shaft, following every vein with your tongue. you keep your eyes up at rafe while you sink your lips over his cock, watching the expression of pleasure on his face.

you begin to bob your head, keeping your hand on the base of his cock, your lips meeting it with every dip and suck.

“going to have to pay you double for this, doing such a good job.” rafe praises you, hand in your hair as he helps control your movements up and down.

you pull of his cock with a smile, “i have another idea how to clean up this mess, mr. cameron.” 

you stand up, heels pushing into the rug. you twirl around, knowing your underwear is on show as the material spins with you.

you smile back at rafe and bend down, flipping your skirt up and toying with the material of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. before you can even step out of the underwear, rafes head is pushed in between your legs, tongue lapping at your clit.

“mr. cameron!” you shout, pushing your pussy back against his mouth. you step out of your underwear while he eats at your pussy, leaning back after a minute once he’s satisfied.

you keep your back to rafe as you bend down, reaching behind you to grab his cock and line it up with your pussy. you slowly sink down on him, letting out a moan as he fills you.

“there you go, baby.” rafe says, letting out a low groan as you place your hands on his knees, giving yourself just a moment to relax, to adjust, before you plant your heels in the ground and begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. 

rafe moves his hips up to meet yours, a harsh slapping sound emitting, echoing across the living room. 

“fuck, mr. cameron, feels so good.” you let out a low moan, legs straining but you continue to move, wanting to please rafe.

“yeah, baby, so good, bounce f’me.” he commands, hands gripping your ass and helping you move. you smile at his praise, clearly pleasing him.

you push down, clenching your pussy around his cock tightly, not allowing him to move any more as you circle your hips, grinding down against him to the sound of his moans.

“fuck, turn around, baby, need to see your tits.” you pull off rafes cock, placing your knees on either side of his lap, taking his cock in your hand and pushing yourself back down, not wanting to be apart from him for long.

rafe smiles now that your boobs are in his face, pushed up by the outfit you’ve put on. rafe tugs at the material, testing it’s strength before using both hands, ripping the top of the outfit and exposing your bare chest.

“sir!” you shout, moaning when he leans forward and sucks your nipple into his mouth, hands coming to your hips, lifting up and down, signaling you to begin to move. you bounce the best you can, raising onto your knees and then back down to fully sit on his cock.

“mmm.” rafe hums around your nipple, moving to the other side, flicking his tongue quickly over the hard bud.

you move a hand down, rubbing over your clit as you move, keeping the other firmly planted on rafes shoulder to help you move. “god, you’re good.” rafe groans, pulling his head away from your chest, resting it against the back of the couch as he watches your tits sway with every movement.

“i’m close, sir.” you say, and rafe nods in agreement, letting out a moan at your every movement. 

your fingers speed up, no longer able to move as your legs tense up, but rafe quickly takes over, pushing his back into the couch and thrusting up into you as you cum, back arching as you allow rafe to continue to use your pussy, forcing his cock into you until he cums and pulls you down tightly. you let your whole body weight down on him, sitting in his lap and leaning forward, pressing your lips together.

"how was that mr. cameron?" you ask with a smile.

rafe laughs, leaning his head back. "enough of that." he chastises you. "i love the surprise of coming home to you in this little outfit, but give me my girlfriend back."

you smile and lean forward to kiss rafe again. "you liked the outfit though, rafey?"

"very sexy." he hums.

[ilovetheriddler]

egon spengler - baking - fluff and smut thank you!

I hope that you enjoy it!

Halloween Fic Event.

A Surprisingly Haunting Taste.

(Egon Spengler x F!Reader.)

Contents: NSFW 18+ 🔞🔞🔞 Oral, Kissing, Fluff.

You carefully laid out everything that would be necessary for the baked goods that you intended to bake with Egon's help. After looking at the various different options, you ultimately decided that baking cookies and then decorating them in a Halloween themed would be perfect. You turned to him to inquire about what type of cookies you were going to make.

"So, Sugar Cookies or Chocolate chip?"

"I very much enjoy chocolate chip, so I feel like that's a safe choice."

You helped him tie his apron in the back. It had a somewhat humorous chemical formula on the front of it that was actually just the make up of what goes into a cake. You found it to be very cute and fitting for him.

The two of you went about getting everything started, with him cracking the eggs and focusing on the wet ingredients, and you focusing on the dry ones, the process was slow but Egon insisted that he wanted to try and make them from scratch, by the time everything was mixed and put in the oven the two of you were already quite covered in flour, it made him look as white as a ghost, and you had to hold yourself back from cracking a ghost related joke or pun.

You soaked a washcloth in the sink, and then took it and carefully started cleaning the flour off of his face. His eyes softened, and he let out a gentle chuckle at your tender and affectionate gesture.

"Dear, I appreciate the help, but I'm more than capable of cleaning myself off."

"I know you are, but I want to do this... is there a problem with that?"

"Of course not. However, I want to clean you off as well, to keep things even and fair."

"Sounds fine to me!"

You expected him to take the washcloth from you, but were a bit surprised when he leaned in and gently kissed your lips instead, allowing it to linger for only a few seconds before properly taking the washcloth and cleaning off your face.

The two of you went back and forth like that for a bit while you waited for the cookies to finish baking. However, one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were up on the counter, your pants and underwear long discarded, with Egon's head in-between your thighs.

"E-Egon... are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm absolutely positive dear, I want to know if tasting you while something with a particularly sweet aroma cooking nearby will affect how you taste or if it does nothing. As a man of science, I must consider all the variables."

You watched as he paused for a moment, considering something quietly before taking off his glasses and sitting them next to you on the counter. He moved his hands up your thighs, grasping onto them just tightly enough before spreading them apart just a tad more.

You let out a mixture between an embarrassed squeal and a moan as he buried his face against you, sliding his tongue just barely inside of your folds, eagerly lapping up your dripping arousal and groaning softly as he savored the taste of you.

He continued licking and sucking at your entrance, and your clitoris, it didn't take long with how terrifyingly precise and methodical he was before you were being pushed over the edge, Cumming all over his mouth and lower face with an intensity that only spurred him on more in all honesty.

"Hmm... it's as I hypothesized, you're simply so sweet that no outside factor can alter that, how interesting.... I still think I need to run this test, at least another... two or three times, just to have multiple points to compare, of course."

"Y-yeah, sure... we can do this as many times as you want to..."

And you would have let him... if the smoke alarm didn't go off, the cookies were burned and ruined... oh well, at least you enjoyed yourself.

[sturniholo]

early rise cafe - matt sturniolo

in which matt’s summer job turns into something more

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

The smell of coffee and pancakes filled your nose as you swiped your rag across the counter. A customer had just left, leaving a few bills behind for your tip. You picked them up with a smile, carefully tucking them into your apron. Although you had only started your shift an hour ago, you knew today was going to be busy.

Early Rise Cafe was the place to be on a hot, summer morning. It was one of the few restaurants left in town that was family-owned and served food made with love. You would always work there in the summer. Your mom knew the family who owned the cafe, so when you were old enough to work, you were guaranteed a job there.

You couldn't complain. It was quite a nice place to work. The staff was warm and welcoming, which is exactly what you needed early in the morning. The look of the place quickly became a favorite of yours. They hadn't changed the aesthetic of the decor since the place opened, but you dug the retro vibe. It was also evident in your uniform; a white blouse and skirt with a red and white checkered apron.

As you turned to put your rag in the sink, the bell on the front door chimed. You steered your attention to the customer, putting on your friendliest smile. It was a young man, close to your age. As he got closer, you could see tattoos littering his arms, which were on display in his white tee and jeans.

"Good morning. Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?" You held up the pot with a smile, waiting for his response.

He took a seat on the stool in front of you, resting his arms on the counter. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks." He watched as you grabbed a mug and set it down in front of him. You poured the coffee in, the heat creating a small cloud of steam in front of you.

As it reached the top, you set the pot down. "I'll be right back with a menu for you." You turned around, making your way towards the kitchen.

The boy grabbed a packet of sugar and ripped it open. He watched as the sugar fell into his coffee, disintegrating within a second. He stirred it with a coffee stirrer. He wasn't sure why he had done that. He didn't even like coffee that much. But for some reason, he couldn't say no when you had smiled at him.

You pushed open the kitchen door, menu in hand. You set it down in front of him with a smile. "I would recommend hotcakes; they seem to be a favorite. No rush of course. Take your time." You walked to the other side of the counter, giving him time to look over the menu.

He watched as you walked away, not an ounce of his attention on the menu. You were very attractive to him. The way your hair bounced as you walked and how pretty your smile was had him distracted.

You came back after a minute. "Ready to order?" You pulled out your notepad and pencil, getting ready to write down his order.

He blinked at you. "I think I'll get the hotcakes. I trust your judgment," he joked.

You smiled as you scribbled on your notepad. "I'll have that right out for you."

To pass the time, he thought he would try the coffee. He picked up the mug, bringing it to his mouth. He knew it was still hot, so he blew on it before taking a sip. As soon as the bitter liquid hit his mouth, his face scrunched up in disgust.

"You don't have to drink it, ya know?" He set the mug down, looking over at you. You had been watching him from the cash register. "Do you even like coffee?" He shook his head, making you chuckle. "So why did you get it?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I couldn't say no to you for some reason."

"Don't you know how to butter a girl up," you joked. You made your way back into the kitchen.

After a minute, you came out with a plate of hot cakes. You set them down in front of him. "Is there anything else I can get ya?"

He looked up at you, finally allowing himself to make eye contact with you. "A job application." You raised your eyebrows at his request. Based on your reaction, he regretted his decision to speak. "Shit, was that stupid?"

You shook your head with a laugh. "No, you're all good. Just unexpected is all." You watched as he bit into his pancake, smiling to himself. "Let me go check if we have any." You turned and made your way to your boss's office.

You saw him sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. His grandparents started the restaurant and it got passed down to him over the years. You lightly knocked on the door, making your presence known to him. "Rich, can I ask you something?"

He looked up from his computer, giving you his full attention. "Shoot."

"Do we have any job applications?"

He furrowed his brows at you. "Why? Who's asking?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. "There's a guy out there who's interested in working here and he asked for an application."

"You know we don't just hire anyone," he said with a sigh.

You internally cursed yourself. Of course, he wouldn't just hand out applications. He tended to keep business between family and friends of the family, but maybe he could make an exception.

"I know, I know. But please, Rich. He seems like a nice guy. You know I wouldn't even think to ask if I thought he wouldn't be a good fit." You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, trying your hardest to persuade him.

After what felt like an eternity of him staring at you, he let out a deep sigh. His hands flipped through the papers on his desk, trying to find a certain piece. He eventually handed you a piece of paper. You looked over it with a smile. It was a job application. "Thanks, Rich. I promise you won't regret this." You clutched the paper to your chest as you made your way back to the counter.

When you got back, his plate was empty and he was looking around the room. "Here ya go." You handed him the paper, which he gladly accepted. "Just fill it out and hand it back to me." You pulled out a pen from your apron and passed it over to him.

After a few minutes, which you spent cleaning up his dishes and wiping the counter, he was done with the application. You read it over, smiling as you read his name. "This looks great, Matt. I have no doubts he wouldn't hire you."

He raised a brow at your words. "How did you know my name?"

You let out a laugh. "It's the first thing you had to write."

A deep red spread across his face, making you chuckle to yourself. "Oh, yeah." Based on his tone, you could tell he was embarrassed. "So, how do you like working here?"

"It's a great job." You leaned across the counter, resting your arms on the cool surface. "Everyone is super friendly here. And the pay is good too." He nodded his head at you. "Well, I'm going to take this back to Rich." He gave you a nod before you turned to walk away. 

After you handed in his application, you made your way back out to Matt. "From what I can tell, he's impressed by you."

"Really?"

"Mhm. He should get back to you in a few days." He nodded at you. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. "Unless you want me to," you suggested.

His face slightly lit up. "What do you mean?"

You wiped your hands on your apron before sliding your phone out of the pocket. You pulled up your contacts and went to make a new phone. "Here, put your number in for me." You passed him the phone. He smiled as he took it in his hands, typing away happily. "I'll probably be able to give you his answer faster than he can. And who knows, maybe your number will be useful in the future." 

He smiled as he passed the phone back. "Yeah, for sure." He glanced over at the clock on the wall. He got up from the stool, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "Well, I better get going," he said as he handed you his card. You took it from him and went to the cash register. He watched as you swiped his card, smiling as you did. He pulled out a 20 from his wallet and set it on the counter.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, Matt." You smiled as you handed him his card. 

"See ya later." He smiled before turning to leave, the bell chiming as he opened the door. 

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

a/n: sorry for posting this later than expected 😭 and yes there will be multiple parts for this !!

tags: @jnkvivi @pjmpcyy @raysmayhem-72 @mattscurlygirly @patscorner @chrattstromboli @junnniiieee07 @imwetforyourmom

[ruruvxz]

hihi! i love ur writing nd I was wondering if u could do an angst fic with Wonyoung^^

“Remind me of you”

Model!Jang Wonyoung x Barista!Reader

↳ synopsis: Your dating one of the most famous Models in Korea, Jang Wonyoung, her face is plastered nearly everywhere. Making it nearly impossible to avoid her face, but now, I think that’s all you want to avoid.

↳ cw: angst, cheating, break ups, obsessive relationship(?), hurt no comfort, IZ*ONE as your coworkers, mentions of blood, not proofread

↳ word count: 3.9k

a/n: narfhhjghhhh hello anon, ofc I’ll write angst abt my dear wife Wonyoung!!! i dont think she’d ever do this but for plot purposes she will be doing devious dubious things 😈 I’m so sorry I had no ideas nfghahghhhh i dont really like it

You wrapped the apron around your torso, tightly tying it to cinch your waist, creating a small little bow in the back, all the while the smell of the coffee beans suffocated your nose. You took in your surroundings, the dimly lit staff room comfortably small, the walls were decorated with portraits of coworkers and useless memorabilia 'Shit— I'm late already' You thought to yourself, prying your focus from the walls to the staff room door.

You pushed yourself out and walked towards the sink, you heard the soft chimes of the front door bells, indicating a new customer. Sighing, you quickly washed the germs off your hands and dragged your feet to the back of the cashier. Quickly registering the customer's order, your coworker, who always seemed to watch over your back, Yujin, clocked in to make the orders. Ushering you to the back to make the drinks.

Time progressed quickly as the store was jam-packed once again, all because it was the hot spot for celebrities. As the day continued, more and more people checked in for their shift, taking turns doing each task, like doing the cashier, making treats, brewing coffee, anything this café COULD do.

You'd looked back at the clock every moment you could, tapping your fingers on the hardwood counter. Your eyes lit up when it finally reached 5:20, usually the time your favorite customer would come in. Fixing your apron and posture, patiently waiting for the bells to chime. You were just so stuck in your thoughts that you happened to not realize your manager yelling your name. "Y/N! God— Y/N!! Earth to Y/N" Sakura snapped finally shaking you around, snapping yourself out of your daze.

"Ah, ah! What?— What happened?"

"Your shift ended like..." Sakura looked up at the clock and then back at you. "30 minutes ago, you've just been taking orders over here and working overtime. Of course, that's not a problem unless you wanna get paid..."

"Ah, I'm so sorry Sakura, I'll clock out in a bit, is that fine?"

"That's fine, but a friendly reminder I'm not paying you for this..." Sakura drifted, insinuating that the company doesn't pay for overtime, making sure you didn't sue her after this.

"It's fine!" You smiled at her and shooed her back to the worker's closet. She shrugged her shoulders and she just walked away.

"Not to intrude, but are you perhaps going to take my order now?" A playfully childish voice pressured, her gaze burning into the back of my neck, her soft voice was so familiar... Without breaking your neck you swiftly twisted your neck back towards the woman.

You stared at her up and down, clearly offended at such a demand, who did she think she was? "And what if I don’t? Maybe you should just come back tomorrow Wonyoung." You joked trying to put on your most serious tone of voice. You leaned towards her, placing your palms on the countertop, Wonyoung tried to contain her laughter as best as she could, before breaking character for a split second. She hits your shoulder, as she scoffs at your sudden boldness, you let a short laugh before speaking up once more.

"So what can I get you?" You asked, seriously this time as more people lined behind the register.

Wonyoung looked up at the menu, skimming through looking for something new or interesting to try before eventually giving up. "The usual please, oh— and extra sugar." She smiled sliding you her card and walking away to her usual seat. Giving her a quick wave before writing down ‘My model Wonyoung’ onto the cup which ended with a tiny heart at the end.

By looking at what she was wearing, she came from a photo shoot, or something of that sort, her eyes a little more weary than usual. You took in her features breathlessly, she was more than stunning, and you were more than grateful to have such a breathtaking woman. Noticing your staring, she looked up at you to give you a tired smile, making you giggle like a high school girl going through her first relationship. As you took glances at her and back to the drink you were preparing, you peered out the window to see the beaming ad, 'Jang Wonyoung, Youngest ambassador'. Which made you even more proud of how far she’s come.

“She's everywhere” You heard your short-haired coworker scoff as she watched over you, she always looked so aggravated whenever seeing your precious girlfriend and you never understood why. Pouring the cream over the freshly made coffee, you let out a small hum at her snarky comment, before placing it on a tray. You loved to admit that your girlfriend was everywhere you went, it always served as a reminder of how big she’s become, but you couldn’t help but agree with Yujin, she was quite literally everywhere.

It almost seemed as if her face haunted every billboard and crevice, but you didn’t mind, though it was extremely awkward whenever anyone noticed her, while completely tossing your existence to the side. Even at times you always wondered if you deserved to be dating her, let alone be in her presence, but she’d always reassure you with compassionate comments. “You’re the only one who has my heart, Y/N, you are my moon.” She spoke, her voice tinged in your head putting you in a trance-like state. You only got out of your daze when Yujin passed you the sweetener, you thanked her before looking around the coffee station to bring Wonyoung an extra something.

You skittishly positioned everything on the wooden tray, walking very carefully over to Wonyoung so as not to drop everything right in front of your girlfriend. She laughed at your paranoid state while your hands shakily placed the tray in front of her. She examined the coffee and took a glance at the cookie you brought her as a snack, you didn’t notice her bite her lip agonizingly before breaking into a regular grinning smile. Looking up at you longingly as she still stood next to her as if still delivering her drink.

She picked up the cookie and pulled down her mask, pushing the cookie to her lips, until you interrupted her. "Hey, you look familiar" You spoke teasingly, but in a low enough voice so that no one could hear me but her.

"Oh really?" She smiled wrapping her arm around your waist, pushing her hair to your stomach as she put the cookie back onto the plate. You giggled, "Mhm, you look like a beautiful model who's famous around these parts!"

"That model… is she prettier than me" She pouted looking out the window and at the billboard plastered with her face on it.

"Hm, maybe, but I have to see her first to make my final decision" You teased before you both laughed, you found your legs getting far too tired standing and sat down with her.

She put her hand out resting on the table as you intertwined with her fingers. You both sat in silence for a bit as she drank her coffee which you just knew was as sickeningly sweet, as her.

"So, how was your day sunshine?" You spoke breaking the silence.

"Hard, but when is it not?” She snickered before continuing. “Today’s shoot was difficult as per usual, wish you were there to cheer me up.” She sulked rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.

"So how about you? Anything interesting going on?” She asked back at me, excited for your answer.

"It was fine as usual, though every time I looked up I could see you... And Yujin— fairly enough— is getting a tad bit annoyed looking at you.”

"What is her problem? It’s not like I’m here all the time." Wonyoung mocked, clearly displeased at the fact your coworker would ever make such a comment about her. (If Wonyoung was being honest with herself, she never really liked that Yujin girl, she was always, somehow, in the middle of your relationship. She would always find a way to contact you whenever she didn’t need to, and it was getting on Wonyoung's nerves. She couldn’t help but meet Yujin’s envious face whenever she came into the Café, and her snarky remarks whenever she had to serve her.

It wasn’t Wonyoung’s fault that Yujin couldn’t get gigs like Wonyoung’s fault, and it wasn’t Wonyoung’s fault that you happened to be wrapped around her finger. Yujin always found a way to separate the both of you and always found ways to look after you, but it all just enraged Wonyoung further. Why did she care so much? And why did Wonyoung feel so threatened by her presence, and for god’s sake why hadn’t you realized Yujin wasn’t just trying to be a “good” coworker.)

"I mean, I hate to play devil’s advocate, but you are quite literally everywhere. Yujin has a point." You turned your head slightly to face to window before pointing your finger to the 'Miu Miu' advertisement. She stared in awe realizing that was your view the whole shift before giggling at the possibility of just how long were you thinking about her.

You both drifted off thinking about one another whilst being right in front of each other, the comfortable silence filled our table as you looked down at our intertwined fingers. But something was wrong, there was this aching feeling inside of your chest, and you were worried about the possibility of breaking up. Could you even live without her?

"Hey wony, what would happen to us if we broke up." Your hands shook ever so slightly at the thought, honestly, she would be fine, but you knew deep inside your mind that you’d be a crumbling mess if you broke up. She looked down at you, also clearly distressed about the idea, squeezing your hand tightly before bringing it up to her face.

"Hey, don’t ever say things like that…" Wonyoung chastised, her face scrunching up with that idea, was this a warning sign to Wonyoung that you did want to break up with her? She tightened her grip even more, almost digging her nails into your skin and piercing them.

You winced in pain, trying to pry her grasp out of hers. "Ah- Ah don't get mad, it's just that would be hard..." You explained trying to calm her down before it started to hurt. "Considering how everything reminds me of you, I think it would be hard to forget about you."

"Hahaha, so that's what you’re talking about" She relaxed her grip before finally slipping her fingers away from hers, she let out a long exasperated sigh, pushing the hairs off her face. "Well, it might, but don't think about that!" She smiled rubbing reaching her thumb out to caress your knuckles.

Her sudden expression change caught you completely off guard but you brushed it off, it couldn’t be anything that serious could it? "Also..." You tried talking once more before she cut you off with a gentle hum, which forced you to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, the words you wanted to say at that moment, you had the perfect opportunity to talk to her about all your concerns but you meekly passed that opportunity. You wanted to blurt it out, blurt out how you thought you weren’t meant to be, how you feel like you're only really dragging her down, how you're ruining her career, and how she's better off with other people. But you couldn’t, you really couldn’t get yourself to do it because at the end of the day if she didn’t know, it didn’t matter.

“Never mind.” You finished, letting out your best fake smile as she smiled back at you. Using this time to truly appreciate your girlfriend, you couldn’t help but notice the shiny gold necklace wrapped around her neck. It was gorgeous, though far too expensive for you to gift it to her, you chalked it up to some company gift.

“Your necklace is nice, Wony” You complimented, her face flushed red before tucking it into her hoodie. She looked at you stunned that you noticed that little detail, she coughed fixing her composure.

She took a long sip of her coffee before thanking your compliment, but it honestly seemed like she was trying to brush off the fact she owned the necklace. “Ah, it’s just a cheap gift I bought for myself, nothing noteworthy. So tell me more about your day.”

“Huh? But I already told you—” She cut you off quickly asking another mindless question, almost like you were on an interview. The whole time it continued as if nothing had happened, throwing you off a bit, but brushing it off as it probably wasn’t that serious of a topic anyway.

It’s been a few months had passed since that conversation but it's been lingering in your mind ever since. The statement ‘I think we aren't meant for each other' is phased in and out of your mind whenever you catch yourself having a moment to think. And in every scenario in your mind you couldn’t make it work, it seemed that you were allergic to optimism.

Though as the days progressed and your thoughts got more and more outlandish you haven't been getting any better, the guilt ate you up. To the point you were messing up orders more than you usually did, and you went to work a little more restless every day. You truly just wanted to get it off your tongue, but she always seemed so conveniently busy to have that conversation. And as the more she avoided it the worse you performed at your job, making ever your poor manager concerned about your current situation.

It wasn’t until you poured hot coffee on Yujin that set up the catalyst of events that soon occurred after that. You accidentally hit Yujin on the way to deliver a Flat White, causing the drink to fall over her uniform, and grazed her arm on the corner of the counter. This caused Sakura to pressure you into taking a break whilst another coworker, Yena, took your position. Feeling extremely remorseful you pleaded with Yujin to help take care of her burns, and she reluctantly accepted.

She rolled up the sleeves of her button-up to let you tend to her scraped arm, small droplets of blood dripping down from her arm. Biting your lips at the wound, hoping it wasn’t deep enough to pierce further than her skin, it was all your fault for drifting off and now someone got hurt because of you. Your hands shook as you looked more and more worried as more blood poured out, then jumped at her reaction as she yelped when you put the disinfectant pad on the wound.

You apologized profusely again while rubbing her wounds and cleaning off the excess blood. While your face visibly distraught Yujin couldn’t help but notice she hushed you before speaking up to comfort you. “No— Uhm, it’s alright, you already apologized remember? Besides it was an accident anyway.” Yujin reassured, placing her good hand on your head to calm you down, which worked to no avail.

Having the opposite effect, you quickly patched her wound with some spare bandaids lying around and apologized once more trying to make amends. “I’m so sorry Yujin! I didn’t mean to hit you! I was just so lost in thought that I couldn’t—” Before you could continue she hushed you once more, grabbing your wrist as you stood up to take your leave.

“Y/N, I get it, don’t worry. Do you want to talk about it? You seem so out of touch lately.” The older girl asked, even though she was troubled by your recent change of behavior. Even if she would never outright admit it, she loved looking after you, whether that be helping you manage the cashier, or fixing the foam on coffee drinks, she was always there. (Even though everyone on the same shift already knew that fact, and you embarrassingly knew as well, it was always good to have extra help.)

You stood in front of her before letting out a long, pent up, sigh, you looked at her softened fixated gaze and took a seat next to her. “Have you ever thought you weren’t good enough to date someone?” You sheepishly asked before turning your head towards hers, your faces inches apart. You took in the features of her face before tearing your eyes to the ceiling lights.

“Is this about Wonyoung?” She asked, her voice seemed so sure about her assumption but out of curtsy, it came out like a question. You looked back at her surprised, but she didn’t look too shocked so you just let out a weak nod, then continued to stare toward the ceiling once again. “To be honest, I didn’t know you guys were dating, I thought you guys were good friends.”

You looked at her curiously, her mind thinking about what her next course of action was. “So that’s what you thought, huh?” You joked, nudging your shoulder to her arm, a little above her wound to not hurt her. Yujin let out a quiet laugh before pulling her phone out of her back pocket.

“I didn’t want to be the one saying this but, I thought she was your best friend because…” Yujin stopped to think once more, finally biting the bullet as she scrolled through her phone. “Because she’s dating this other singer.”

She finally admitted, taken aback at her sudden confession you laughed loudly before looking back at her, her gaze never breaking from you this whole conversation, finally realizing the horrific situation you were in. Yujin sat there as she tore her eyes away from your face and scrolled through her phone before pulling out a tabloid-looking article. A part of you wanted to believe that Yujin was just showing you some fake news trying to garner views, but another part of you was so sickeningly curious.

You grabbed her phone, she placed it in your trembling hands your eyes finally drew onto the title article, "Dispatch: Scandal between two famous idols P.SH and J.WY reportedly dating." Your lips parted as you let out a silent gasp, Yujin wrapped her patched arm over yours to comfort you. A sick part of you tried forming an excuse for her, maybe this was just another slander tabloid, but you knew deep down that it wasn’t the case.

Yujin rubbed your arm as you continued to scroll through their so-called relationship, your hands wobbling around like jello. You wanted to stop and run away, you felt like throwing up but you pushed all your emotions down. The anticipation of finding out your long-term girlfriend was cheating on you felt as if the world was crashing down on you. You were heaving with a mixture of emotions, rage, sorrow a lot of things you couldn’t even put into words how you felt.

'Attached are the photo interactions off camera found by paparazzi and fans.’ The article read as if it could get any worse, the photos would solidify what Yujin told you. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as Yujin continued to stroke the back of your head. Whispering bittersweet comments that your head drowned out as you looked at the photos.?

“Maybe it’s not that bad— maybe I was overthinking it” You whispered, Yujin tightened the grip on your shoulders as you spoke, she looked at you defeated. Before speaking once more she picked out the perfect words trying not to make you even more distraught.

“Y/N, I know it’s hard but I think you should know.” She softly spoke before she held your hand tightly reassuring you, just like how Wonyoung would. Biting your lips trying to stop any more tears from falling from your cheeks. You nodded knowing that this was better than not knowing.

You continued to scroll through the photos getting harder to form a reasonable explanation. From friendly hugs to holding hands and finally a sneaky photo of the both of them kissing each other on the lips. Finally, you reached your tipping point and handed the phone back to Yujin before you got up. You removed your apron and threw it somewhere around the room, you needed to get home now, this was all too much.

You bumped into Hitomi who was luckily not carrying anything, she was about to cuss you out until she met your teary gaze. “Y/N— Are you okay? Did Yujin scold you? I’m gonna kill her!” She asked angrily knowing how Yujin can get when she’s furious, but you gave her a weak no before continuing to run out of the Café.

As you pushed through all the customers eyeing you down, it was so easy to ignore your surroundings until once again you made contact with someone else. You looked up to see the long wavy hair that you used to love playing with, now the same hair that made you want to throw up.

"Ah, Y/N did you finish your shift just now— hey are you okay?” She questioned cupping your face, making you look up at her, you felt all the wrath bubble up inside of you. You stared at her disgusted by how the soft soft-spoken and sweet voice that used to hit you now felt like pins being stuck into my ear drums.

You whacked her hands off your face as she looked at you in disbelief, before she could question your recent change of behavior, you cut her off. “Fuck you Wonyoung. I’m done, don’t text me ever again.” You spat pushing past her as you ran off, not giving her enough time to react. She called out your ran, pleading for you to come back, but you didn’t look back you continued to fasten your pace. As you ran your legs began to slow down, and you blankly tried to process what just happened.

As you walked slower and slower you felt your body shiver from the coldness of winter, small freckles of snow fall neatly onto your hair. Your phone vibrated vigorously with calls and texts from Wonyoung, probably along the lines of “come back” and messages from your coworkers wondering what happened. There was so much happening, you looked up trying to get your mind off things, and saw the first drops of snowfall.

Isn't the first snow of winter supposed to be romantic... how deeply ironic huh?

[captain-n-crunchies]

You need a retwist...

OPLA Ussop x Salon owner Reader

From braids to straightening and even retwist and reties you've done all types of hair on Cocoyasi pays a good amount ever since fish face and they came onto the island. Arlong always comes to get his hair cleaned leaving only a path of violence and no tips after every visit; Nami one of my old closest friends ending up visiting my shop when Arlong and he asked me how much I make lying didn't save me wen Nami was around telling him I was practically flourishing. After she told him how much I was making he destroyed everything... thousands of berries and years of hard work destroyed all because of his and Nami's greed, he raised the village toll, and I didn't get much business for years til we got stable.

Today was collection day, the people of Coco gathered and gave Nami their payment for "protection" it was also the day Nami came to tell me Arlong would be coming for a touch up, the coward dead in front of me asking how many berries I have today threating me to not lie pr it'll happen again; after giving her a 1,000 berries and free products she gives me a solemn glance and leaves my salon like she never came.

Cleaning the floors and sinks of the salon with music from radio wafted through the cool air as I hummed a tune and swayed with the beat. Refilling water to plants and sanitizing combs a clean smell lingered in the air, loving the vibe I sit down onto the decorative couch and aid in the silence when I hear I ring of the front door. Getting up I walked to the front of my hose to see four men: a dopey boy with a straw hat, a tall man in a suit? It's 95 degrees??, a green hair swordsman, and a man with curious eyes looking over everything. The straw hat boy says the salon smells like lemon and cleaning products as he walks around touching and tapping any shiny piece of metal

" Don't touch nothin if you can't afford to replace, now what can I do for you?" I asked uninterested grabbing a apron and standing by the salon chair placing products out. The boy talks about Nami asking if I seen her based off what he's saying her sister must've led him to me. " She came in to collect Arlong's 'business fee' and left, if that's all you head on out, I'm still cleaning"

" Well did you know where she's going? We can't leave without her! Shes our navigator"

" You picked someone whose already apart of a pirate crew to join yours? Thats pretty stupid" then the swordsman told me they didn't know till now. " Thats sad but that's how she rolls, betrays her friends and does it again. It's a kink to her I guess" as I spoke, I looked to the man with the durag who now looking through a lookbook of men styles, " You're looking for new style?"

The man in the suit named Sanji who been somewhat quiet besides from complementing my looks ask what could be done to his " luscious blond locks his " I sit him down and his hair pretty clean jokingly calling him pretty boy I trimmed his hair and slicked it how it was before, the straw hat boy excitedly wants his turn and his moves to sit down and I take off his hat to see a whole god dammed mess, his unruly locks aren't kept right not even moisturized and it's filled with sand and dirt; " You should be ashamed of this... I mean how long have you went without a wash?" he thinks with picking his nose? And says a about a few months probably a year, within a long hour I washed and detangled his curly hair and it looks very pretty with a few fruity scents he looks more... boyish in a sense?

Turing to the swordsmen who is just looking around I asked did he want anything done he says he doesn't need it but if do I have something to drink, walking to the fridge in the back of the hose I get him a nice glass of sake and walks over to the man named Ussop, asking him to get in the chair and what he wants done he takes off the rag over his hair and it not as bad the straw hat boy but he's veryyy over due for a retwist. " When the last time you had your hair done? you locs are almost matted?"

" Oh! I don't know what that is, my mom did them and... well, nobody else knew how to manage them"

" It's called a retwist your locs need to maintained and just washing them isn't doing you much good."

" Oh... well can you do that? It'll look nice right?"

" Absolutely, and don't worry about the cost all I ask is you get Nami safe." Sanji questions me even when knowing Nami isn't the best person why I would want her safe I truly didn't know, being friends with her and Nojiko the fond memories of her just can't leave my mind no matter what. Grabbing some clips and a comb with some gel I section and part each loc of his, he winces at every tug and I roll my eyes when he asks is it supposed to hurt, " Well you matted locs hun, it going to a bit painful regardless" I say stilling twisting and clipping his locs as the rest of the men lounge around or read a magazine.

With in a few hours I was done and he was looking good as new, with him looking in the mirror I looked outside and it's dark and I see Arlong and his goon walking towards my salon, turning frantic I tell the Straw hats to give any money to Arlong but they seemed unfazed, well except for Ussop who slowly hid behind the swordsman. Arlong bust through the door and looks eyes with the straw hat and laughs a bone chilling laugh.

" Hello, are you here for-"

" Selling out my location to pirate huh? After the good business I gave you y/n?" I looked confused and tries to explain I dint know they were pirates just new customers but, it gets a vase and smashes it and the memories of his first visit sets in, his crew his walking around touches anything int he room as my pleas for him to get them to stop smashing things are cut off when the swordsmen points a katana at the head of fishmen and threats them. The room grows silent as each of the strange men ae in a fighting stance, Sanji tells me to get out the house and I run out the back door taking any valuables and money with me as I ran, running hearing sounds of clashing and noises of a fights echos in my ear.

It's been two days since I seen those pirates and it hasn't been good for the town, Nami reason for helping Arlong was revealed and a battle between the Straw hats and the fishmen began. It's been quite so far and Nami came back after telling me she trying to buy the village freedom, I welcomed her back with open arms and now at Nojikos home I sit with her talking about old memories when Nami and the pirates come back with new Arlong has been defeated, with praises and thanks you I congratulate their victory.

" Well Nami you've became a pirate, a better one than I thought you would be" I comment and she smiles and apologizes for our earlier past and I forgive her when the Luffy the captain to be asks a funny question

" Your hair place got destroyed in the fight, hope you arent too mad though"

' Eh, it'll better if I just do hair occasionally plus it wasn't too big of space so it'll be alright" I think of ways to make back the money for new supplies when Nami hands me a bag opening it the bad filled with thousands of berries shines ad I almost cry, with this I could open up a new business and get better products even hire people! Hugging Nami, Luffy continues

" You should join us! It'll be nice to have a new crew member!"

The swordsman questioned him saying he just can't ask anyone to join the crew because he finds them nice or cool.

" Plus, I don't fight Luffy, nor do I know how to chart maps that's a nerd thing"

" You can do your hair stuff! Ussop can make a empty room like your salon and you can do our hair!" "And I can charge a fee too... " I mumble to Nojiko and she giggles.

" So, what do you say? It's free housing too!"

"With the chance of getting blown to smithereens?"

" It's the fun part!

Looking at a smiling Luffy I agree, and he tells me they leave tomorrow.

" Y/n Let me ask you something"

"Hm?"

" You did Ussop hair? He looks different..."

" Yes! girl he needed a retwist like 30 days ago!" Laughing that I wonder what new styles I could do being the Straw hat hairstylist, maybe I could twist up a new love in my heart?

[jamdoughnutmagician]

The Boy Is Mine (Claudia's Edition)

this is my entry for @carolmunson 's writing exercise where we all use the same prompts to write a date night fic with Eddie in the trailer.

Very hastily written over last night and this morning, so apologies for any mistakes!

Word Count:1,204

Eddie Munson Masterlist // Masterlist

Wayne had slid Eddie an all-too knowing wink as he made his way out of the trailer door. He had told Eddie that he was taking a small vacation, a fishing trip out of state with some of his old work buddies. Bringing Eddie into a quick hug before leaving Wayne nods towards his nephew.

“You’re the man of the house for the next few days, son, try not to burn down the place whilst i’m gone.”

Eddie nods, his wild curls bouncing as he does.

“Understood.” Eddie smiles. “Now, go! You have fun with your fishing buddies, I can take care of things from here, trust me.”

“Alright alright! I’m going!” Wayne grumbles as he loads his fishing gear into the back of the car before driving away.

“Alright and for zee beautiful lady, my famous spaghetti and meatballs.” Eddie says in his best fancy french accent as he rounds the small dining table, placing a generous plating of pasta in front of you.

Your back sinks against the soft throw pillow plumped against the harsh back of the wooden dining chair. 

Eddie had insisted on cooking for you for a special date night, calling you up to come over because he said he had a special surprise planned for you, and to wear something fancy.

So you pulled on your nicest dress from your wardrobe, the dainty blue floral one that you knew Eddie liked seeing you in, if his big brown eyes were any give away, the way they roamed over the expanse of exposed skin every time you wore it. 

Excitedly knocking your knuckles against the rickety trailer door you heard the enthusiastic shout from your boyfriend from inside.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” comes his voice, sounding as if he was working very hard behind closed doors.

Suddenly the door swings open and there stands your boyfriend, his messy hair tied back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few stray curls falling down to frame his face. His slender frame is covered in a tight black shirt and his usual dark ripped jeans, but it’s not that that catches your attention, no, it’s the white ‘kiss the cook’ apron decorated with various splotchy stains that has you cocking your head in interest. A small spiral notebook hangs off his apron where it's tied around his waist, looking every part waiter-and-chef all rolled into one.

“Come in, Welcome to Chez Munson” he smiles broadly, his white teeth pulling against the curve of his bottom lip.

“Welcome madame, let me show you to your seat.” he says as he guides you into the small dining area he’s set up in the kitchen, complete with a single rose dropped into an empty coke bottle.

“Eddie..”

“I know, I know, it's just we never really get time to ourselves anymore, we've both been so busy lately, and I just wanted to treat my favourite girl.”

“Eddie, it's perfect!” You beam, leaning up to kiss his cheek, feeling his flushed cheeks smile against your lips.

Just as he's about to sit down in the seat opposite you, he bounces back to his feet.

“I almost forgot!” He babbles as he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a bottle of wine. “Harrington helped me pick it out, but I think he just chose this because there was a picture of an lion on the label” he chuckles.

Then for a brief moment you hear him clinking around in the kitchen cabinets in search of some wine glasses.

“Okay..” he huffs “so, like, I ran out of nice cups, is this okay?” He asks as he places down two mugs on the table. His favourite Garfield mug for him, and a red race-car mug for you, from that time when Wayne took Eddie to the Indy 500 a few years back.

He cracks open the bottle and pours a few drops in each mug, before sitting down opposite you.

“Cheers!” He grins, lifting his mug up.

You clink your mug against his and return his cheer. 

You watch as he reaches for the small tub of grated parmesan on the table before sprinkling it on top of his pasta.

“And you like that, huh?” you wrinkle your nose in disgust at his choice of topping.

“What can I say, Sweetheart, I've got a refined palette.” He laughs before twirling up a forkful of noodles.

You dig into your dinner and it's surprisingly delicious. Truly a testament to how hard he'd worked to put together the whole meal for you.

“Y’know, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” you tell him earnestly.

“Well I just wanted to make you smile, know you’ve been busy working those late night shifts at the diner, and I’m not always the best boyfriend-”

“Aw, no, Honey. Don’t be like that. That’s not true at all.” you stop him before he can discredit himself, and talk himself down, as he often found himself doing.

He looks up at you from underneath his dark eyelashes.

“Eddie, you are the best boyfriend, the only boyfriend, I’ve ever had.” It’s true, you had met Eddie when you were a new student who had just moved into Hawkins and were trying to navigate your way through a new school half-way through the academic year. He was the one who befriended you and that friendship had gone from strength to strength until neither of you could ignore the feelings you both felt for one another anymore. 

“But the fact that you have been my only boyfriend, doesn’t mean that you haven’t been the absolute best boyfriend in my eyes. You make me laugh, you’re sweet and kind, you make me feel safe, and most importantly you make me feel so loved.”

He reaches his hand across the table, taking your hand in his and kissing his lips softly against the back of your hand.

“I think the same of you too, Sweetheart. You’re it for me. You’re my forever girl. Want you in my life always, I mean it.”

“And now for dessert.” he says as he places down a slice of vanilla sponge cake, complete with gooey vanilla frosting and a cherry on top. “Although I can’t claim this one as my own, compliments go to the bakers at Walmart for this one.”

As you both enjoy your desserts in comfortable silence, you can’t help but let your foot trail up his leg underneath the table, teasingly playing with him whilst you smile innocently at him from across the table.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to have a problem here, Sweetheart.” his voice drops to a husky low rumble, his pink lips curving into a smile.

“Maybe, I want something else for dessert too..” you tease him. 

“Let me clear away these plates, you go ahead and wait in the bedroom. I’ve been dying to rip that dress off you since you stepped through the door.” he smirks, his dark eyes raking over you.

Excitedly you jump up from your seat, and make your way over to him, kissing him on his cheek before whispering in his ear.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Teddy.”

@mrsjellymunson @penguinsandpotterheads @ali-r3n @seatnights @xxbimbobunnyxx @impmunson @paybacksawitch @heydreamchild

[mycustomcopper]

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[dreaming-of-mossballs]

All of this, for a phonograph? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: After having an odd dream and unexpectedly getting a promotion, you head down to the Underworld in some weird journey of self-discovery that ends up in a whole lot of chaos.

▸ Genre(s): fluff, angst

▸ Word Count: 16.6k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, violence, mentions of blood, crying, emetephobia tw, having to wake up early,

A/N: IM SO FUCKINGN TIRED.

I was not expecting to surpass my word count record. Anyways, sorry for the initial jankyness. I don’t write in present tense often

MOSSBALL MASTERLIST (psst more gepard here)

Sitting at a desk in front of a window, accompanied by a stained brass lamp and an old family photo you were certain had been lost (during the evacuation of Rivet Town), you watched the people of Belobog mill about the Alexandra Plaza beneath the setting sun.

You smile softly to yourself, laying your tired fountain pen to rest beside a variety of parchments that contained pictures of flowers you had never seen, and writing that didn’t quite make sense.

Something tugs at the corners of your mind to make you rise from your seat and tiptoe down the hallway towards the kitchen.

It was your kitchen, presumably.

The mahogany floorboards creaked softly in protest, but they were covered by the sound of the familiar sound of music coming from the phonograph you’d had as a child. It got louder the closer you got to the end of the hallway.

How you missed those old songs. You used to sit by the fireplace with a warm cup of milk, listening to the music while the flames flickered at you.

From the kitchen, golden light peeps through the doorway at you. Warm and comforting, it drips over the paintings and vases decorating the hallway.

It was so strange. This place felt like home, yet you had never seen it before in your entire life.

As you push open the door, your heart leaps and lodges itself directly in your throat.

Oh. It’s Gepard, you think, surprised.

He stands in front of the kitchen sink, a bright blue apron adorning his waist and shoulders, with dishwashing gloves to match. Bubbles from the soapy water floated around him while he worked, and then sank to the tile floor, where they disappeared with a few soft pops.

The oven light illuminated something resting on the top rack. You lick your lips; it was always a joy whenever Gepard decided to cook.

“Ah, good evening, honey,” Gepard says, discarding his gloves and resting them on the counter. “Are you finished for the day?”

Honey?

Something about that struck an odd note.

���Yep! All done,” you say, not quite knowing what you’re talking about. “I can rest easy now. Thanks for taking care of the dishes,”

You smile and bound over to his side in your slippers.

“I’m happy to hear that. The pie is almost done, are you feeling hungry at all?” He asks. He unties his apron, (which, you might add, looks very good on him) and pulls two plates out of the cupboard. You have two of everything, from spoons to mugs. It makes your heart flutter like a herd of butterflies.

“Um… gosh, this was unexpected. But pie sounds great!” You reply while bending down to peer through the oven door. Its crust was a wonderful golden color, just like the sun. “What kind is it?”

“Apple,” Gepard replies. He sidles up next to you until your shoulders are touching. You had a decent view of the hair on the back of his neck from here, which was slightly darker than the hair on top of his head. Definitely cute, you think.

The captain smiles gently at you, almost puppy-esque in the way his eyes search yours for approval. He tilts his head downward and—

Wait a moment. Why was he so close? What was going on?

—to slowly and tenderly place a kiss on your cheek.

Your heart threatens to reach escape velocity.

Whoa there, scooter. Keep it cool, now, you scold yourself.

“You’re always so generous,” you compliment, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You shut your eyes, and this time, kiss him gently on the lips. It felt so right, the way you combed your fingers through his hair and how you knew exactly what to do.

Gepard’s cheeks burn pink as you pull away. The color contrasted his blue eyes, which resembled rich, deep sapphires with icy blue highlights at the bottom. You stared at them dreamily, when suddenly a strange ringing invaded your eardrums.

Oh, that must be the pie.

You pulled some oven mitts that were the size of cookie sheets out of your pockets and turned back to the oven— which had, for some reason, been very curiously turned into a washing machine.

You whip around again, and this time your husband(?) is dressed in full military regalia. Gepard takes a few steps back and throws himself out of the open kitchen window, saluting you as he goes.

You were certain you lived in a two-story building.

And oh, the ringing. It was getting increasingly louder. You clamp your hands over your ears indignantly while scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Can we not do this right now? You thought. I just wanted some pie,

Gravity seemed to be playing tricks on you as the fog began to lift, pulling you out of your deep sleep.

You blinked. The strange building had been replaced by the wooden ceiling of the Eversummer Florist you were used to.

Phonograph… I need to get my phonograph so Gepard and I can—,

Groaning, you limply smacked the phone on your bedside table with your arm and turned to tuck the blankets back under your chin. But the damn thing rang again as if to mock you.

Huh. I don’t remember setting two alarms, you thought. You clicked your tongue on the top of your mouth, cringing at the dreaded taste of morning breath as you sat up slowly.

You picked up the phone, hazily coming to the realization that it wasn’t yours. The alarm’s label was titled, “surprise,” which was ironic, considering it was quite the unpleasant one. A picture of Artem, from the hit novel, Tale of the Winterlands, was set as the lock screen.

There was no other person whom it could belong to.

The old wooden door to your dorm swung open, slamming into your armoire, which you were grateful was already chipped at that point. The sounds of streamers and confetti poppers blasted through whatever peace of mind you previously had, and a group of people, all wearing green berets, invaded your room. They were waving party wands around like it was the last day on Jarilo-VI.

Speaking of Vaska, she was busy pushing her way through the gaggle of people. She squeezed her body out of the fray to stand right over you, her green eyes staring straight at you unblinkingly, like some sort of lizard.

“Congratulations, (Y/N)! You’ve been promoted!” She cheered at you through cupped hands. Before you had realized it, you’d shot out of bed in surprise, flinging your covers everywhere.

“What? Really??” You asked, your jaw agape. You were still in your pajamas, but you were far beyond the fear of being seen in them.

“That’s right,” Meg, your boss, remarked. She was strict, but rather kind. “You’re now the general manager of the Eversummer Florist!”

She did have some odd ways of celebrating, though.

“Unless… you’d like to turn it down, of course,” she teased with a shrug.

“WAIT—! No, there’s no need. I would like the promotion, please,” you blurted. Vaska chuckled as she watched you scramble to put on your slippers,

Meg planted her hands on her hips sassily. “As I thought. Now, can you give everyone a thank you for giving you such a lovely surprise?”

“Thank you, everyone,” you gave them a toothy grin. A few whoops and cheers erupted from the back of the crowd.

“There’s a cupcake for you downstairs,” your boss added. “Pick it up whenever you like. Anyway, have a nice day off, kiddo. You deserve it more than anyone,”

“Aww, thank you so much!” You exclaimed. A cupcake sounded wonderful.

Meg tuned right around and whisked herself out of the door from whence she came. Everyone else followed suit in a single file line, like a group of ducklings. That made you chuckle.

You opened the blinds and peered outside. Icicles coated the power lines and hung from the roofs of houses, announcing the upcoming Solwarm Festival with their appearance. Meg probably had an ulterior motive, seeing as Belobog hadn’t held a Solwarm Festival in years— and Vaska had a particular penchant to break down under pressure. She could probably use another person to help ensure the festivities went smoothly.

You scoffed confidently at the challenge. With you and Vaska on the job, there was nothing on Jarilo-VI that could take you down. It would be a good way to show off your newfound skill at the job as well.

But as you stood there, woozy from the forceful wake-up and experiencing the overwhelming need to pee, your brow furrowed.

What exactly do I want to do from now on?

The question came hurtling entirely out of the Snow Plains, punching you right in the nose.

Yes, you had moved to the surface and become some sort of flower tycoon. And you were as sure as you could be that you liked your job. Plus, you had even gotten a promotion. To the position of general manager, of all things!

But had you really put any thought into what your future might be? You had been given the opportunity to move to the surface by the ADCS (or Administrative District Civil Service), and you had taken it.

After a year of living here, you now had a few more things to consider. Did you want to move back home? Surely not after getting a promotion. Your boss would kill you.

Additionally, you weren’t necessarily homesick. Life in the mines was largely nomadic. Where employment was, you would follow. You didn’t miss the hacking cough you’d develop during the winter from the rock dust building up in your lungs.

Friends didn’t stay too long either. You all had to eat in some way or another, and work wasn’t always guaranteed for people who traveled together.

Maybe you could help expand the flower business? Or even get an apartment of your own? Perhaps officially studying mechanical engineering might be the way to go…

All these thoughts made your brain feel like it was going to split. You sighed, plopping back down on your bed before you remembered Meg had given you a pile of flyers to hand out two days prior. They advertised the Solwarm Festival and its details, a good source of information for anyone who wasn’t privileged enough to have experienced the festivities.

You had meant to give one to Natasha, since you weren’t sure how well news travelled from one floor to another. Plus, since Rivet Town was mostly safe again, you could probably pick up your phonograph from your old home.

Rats, you thought. So much for my day off.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

The streets and buildings of Belobog’s Administrative District had a light dusting of snow on them, much akin to the powdered sugar they put on the pastries they sold at the local café.

Alexandra Plaza was certainly filled with things to do, including, but not limited to visiting the Neverwinter Workshop, seeing a play at the Golden Theatre, and taking a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum. It was nothing short of incredible. Of course, there were a fair amount of activities in the underworld too; they would just be considered less than legal to the people up here.

You munched on your cupcake as you meandered your way to the rail car, the one specifically tasked with bringing denizens of Belobog from one level to another as thoughts flowed through your head. They’d fly in like birds, then disappear without a trace, so you had no time to dwell on them. Ones about your future, your old home, and the expectations you had for yourself.

What is it that I want, exactly?

You weren’t quite sure. You shuddered. That dream earlier had really shaken you up.

They say people dream about what they want the most, you wondered. But was it realistic in the slightest? You didn’t think so at all.

A cloud of frosty air rose in front of your face as you let out a heavy sigh. As you were reaching the ticket gate, you rounded a corner and nearly knocked heads with an older woman. She wore a maroon leather jacket trimmed with brown mink fur that brought attention to the hood and sleeves.

She glared daggers at you, pulling her tote close to herself and mumbling something about “soot-dwellers.” Meanwhile, you did everything in your power not to let your eyes roll out of your sockets.

Straightening your back, you hopped onto the rail car, leaving the Overworld and your worries behind you.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

As the rickety screeches of the elevator subsided, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The underground was as familiar as the back of your hand. Although you’d spent a fair bit of your years as a vagrant in the mines, Boulder Town had an air of nostalgia to it as well. The miners used to gather there for a meal and a drink after a long day’s work (although it was mostly for a drink, if your memory served you correctly).

Soot and iron flooded your nostrils in waves as you walked around the northeast corner of town. The faraway shouts of the Fight Club arena, along with the hearty laughter from the miners in the tunnels, could be heard.

And how you missed this feeling! The sighs, the smells, the feeling of belonging. It all brought memories flooding through your brain. You missed singing and dancing around a campfire with other workers— arms around each other’s shoulders, mugs of bread soda in hand— while also competing to balance as many items as you could on Peak, the lazy miner (the record was 17).

A common saying from the old folks was that Geomarrow could make your blood run hot. And honestly, you believed them. One glance around the city hammered in the impression of hot-blooded community you felt. Geomarrow was the lifeblood of Belobog, and you were proud to be a part of it every step of the way.

Surface-dwellers could never understand it, you thought to yourself smugly. But you would never say that aloud.

You blended in seamlessly here, no mannerism you’d learned as a child going forgotten. You fell back into your usual swaggering gait, patting the backs of every old friend you came across. There was Seele, arguing with some poor member of Wildfire right next to the grocery stand; Hook, who was running at full speed alongside two other children, and you could’ve sworn you spotted a flash of someone with dark blue hair and green eyes before they vanished into a dark alleyway.

Old neighbors and colleagues greeted you, which made you smile. In the Underworld, there were no formal titles that you had to remember. Nobility? Never heard of it. If you were self-made down here, it was no joke.

Speaking of self-made, Miss Natasha was the real deal.

After nailing a good amount of posters to the walls, you dusted the soot off of your hands and headed towards the local clinic. The shopkeeper’s bell rang as you entered.

“Hi there, Miss Natasha!” You waved, the fliers pressed tightly to your chest.

The clinician smiled gently at you. “My, my. It’s been a while, (Y/N). How’s life been treating you?”

She stood front and center of the small, cramped room. Only a few cots were occupied; your favorite one next to the Geomarrow heater seemed to beckon you to come and have a seat.

“Quite well, as a matter of fact,” you chirped. “How about you? It looks pretty empty in here… although I guess that’s a good thing,”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ve been healthy, thank you kindly. One of the miners actually had a baby last week,” she placed down the vial she had been holding onto a nearby table.

“That’s wonderful!” You responded, clasping your hands together. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

One of the flyers slipped out of your arms and floated slowly to the concrete floor.

“Shoot. Actually, I came down here to give you this,” you said, sheepish about your faulty attention span. You handed her a flier, which had an illustration of a bright orange Solarflower bouquet.

Natasha let out a gasp and placed a hand in front of her mouth. “My goodness. They haven’t held a Solwarm Festival in many years. I didn’t think there would be one ever again,” she beamed at you. “I would be honored to attend, (Y/N),”

You bounced happily on the balls of your feet. Somewhere in the background, the shopkeeper’s bell rang, but the noise was quickly submerged by your other thoughts.

“I’m so glad!” You jabbered on and on. “Make sure to stop by the florist’s for some free suncakes. We partnered with a local bakery this year, so hopefully we can draw in lots of business. And—,”

Natasha’s red eyes flickered towards the clinic entrance behind you for a split second, which made you pause and turn your head slightly. And oh boy, were you glad you did.

Because standing in front of the clinic door was none other than Captain Gepard of the Silvermane Guards, surrounded on both sides by armored soldiers.

The captain locked eyes with you for a moment before you decided the Geomarrow heater in the corner of the room was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen in your life.

Gepard’s eyebrow raised at you quizzically.

“Miss Natasha,” said Gepard. “The Fragmentum monsters in the southernmost part of Rivet Town have been taken care of. Is there anything else you’d like us to attend to?”

He shot another glance at you. There you stood— hands behind your back while bouncing from one foot to the other— decidedly not looking at him. You prayed to Qlipoth he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from his position.

It felt decidedly strange running into him like this. You stood on one side of the room in front of a few raggedy cots, and he stood on the other, soldiers ready to back him up at a moment’s notice less than a foot behind him.

Just like the day you came to the overworld, you felt completely out of place.

Natasha pressed her hands together with a pleased expression. “Wonderful! I believe you’re all set to go for today. Thank you all for your service,”

Her smile practically lit up the room. Gepard nodded. “It’s the least we could do, Miss Natasha,”

You took the opportunity to take a small sidestep towards a rack of scrubs to hide behind.

Natasha, almost certainly sensing your jackhammering heartbeat, turned towards you, effectively gluing you to where you stood.

Shoot! She’s like an apex predator,

“So… Captain. Have you met (Y/N)?” She inquired casually. “They were one of my biggest helpers back in the day, in fact,”

You jumped in, a hint of nervousness present in your voice. “Yes, yes. We’ve met before. We’re well acquainted— and um, friends, I guess?”

You muttered a quiet, halfhearted “yeah” under your breath. You couldn’t see the soldiers’ eyes under their metal visors, but you could guarantee they were eyeing you with major secondhand embarrassment. They probably had no idea you two knew each other. Or maybe they thought that some weirdo from the underground was cozying up to their captain. Decidedly awkward, you thought.

One of them let out a raspy cough, which brought you back to your senses.

“It’s really best I get going,” you told your old caretaker. “I have to pick up an old family heirloom at my old place. Nice seeing you, Gepard,”

You smiled as best you could, but to Gepard, it appeared as if it were made of ice. Compared to how much you usually talked, the room felt frigid in the absence of your chatter.

The captain wondered what the reason could be for such visible uneasiness. But he forced himself to keep his lips shut. Now was not the time.

Natasha gave you a reassuring pat on the back as you floundered around in your head. Better to let the youngsters sort themselves out, she thought. It was about time you learned, anyway.

“Oh, before I forget,” Natasha added. “Be sure to take care around that area, dear. You may need clearance to enter. Maybe you should bring someone along with you?”

“Right, sounds good,” you replied, glossing over the last half of what she had said. You wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. But Gepard’s incredible generosity could not be thwarted.

“Perhaps us guards could come with?” He offered.

You punched yourself mentally at not hightailing it out of there earlier.

“I’m sure its fine. There’s really no need to trouble yourselves—,” you said, waving your arms about.

Gepard didn’t falter in the slightest. “The leader of Wildfire herself said it may be dangerous, and it is imperative to us that the safety of Belobog’s citizens is ensured. We’d like to help if we can,”

Ouch. He was right on the money. Natasha’s powers of suggestion were seriously unmatched. The instructions her smile hid were very, very thinly veiled.

Your shoulders fell as you deflated. “Okay, fine,”

Gepard dipped his head, and all the Silvermane Guards tapped the butt ends of their halberds on the floor in unison, causing the ceiling to shake. A ceramic vase tipped over, causing the flower inside to meet its unfortunate end. You looked at it mournfully.

“Wait—,” you paused. “How many of you are coming, exactly?”

“As many as you need,” Gepard replied, tapping his fist to his chest.

You felt a wave of panic rising in your throat at the horrifying vision of being surrounded and jostled around by an entire squad of soldiers. “Oh, there’s no need for you all to come. Just one or two is fine, thank you,”

You imagined your old neighbors peering out their windows at you and gasping at the notion that you had been arrested.

“…you know what? Maybe just one is fine,”

“Understood,” said the captain. “You four may go back to your posts. I’ll accompany (Y/N) to Rivet Town,”

You cursed the goddess of fortune for choosing this exact moment to smite you.

Normally you’d be happy to see him, but all of these soldiers standing around were giving you a major freak-out. To make matters even more stressful, each of these people directly served the Supreme Guardian.

Of all people to have a gigantic crush on, why’d it have to be one of Belobog’s most incredible and amazing people?? You sighed. Why couldn’t you have fallen for that weird guy who stood by the Everwinter Monument every day? He was waaay closer to your league.

You gave Gepard a queasy thumbs-up.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

Humming an old mining song was the only thing keeping you distracted from Gepard’s shining presence beside you.

Now that the other guards were gone, it should be alright, you thought. But you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation for some reason.

Easy now, (Y/N). Yes, the object of your unrequited love is walking right next to you. But it could be worse. It could be an automaton Direwolf!

So why was it so damn hard to talk all of a sudden??

He didn’t look like a Direwolf, even though he was as tall as one, you thought. You narrowed your eyes at him as you walked to double check.

Gepard glanced down at you with a questioning “hm” that almost made you keel over.

Curses. This was overwhelming.

Additionally, your original hypothesis was proven correct a few months ago. Gepard was a big softie at heart. He’d even get down in the dumps when his flowers would inevitably die (which hadn’t happened recently, thanks to you.)

You wondered if he ever worried about other people’s opinions. He was so kind and considerate, it pained you to imagine him getting the brunt of public backlash as such an influential figure.

Knowing him, he probably didn’t. But if he did, he would likely hide it to avoid burdening others. He wasn’t exactly the type to expose his soft underbelly, after all.

You hoped that if anything came up, he’d consider reaching out to you. The man who was Belobog’s iron defense always went above and beyond for the people. But he ought to have someone looking out for him, too.

Scoffing at yourself, you shook your head. Gepard really brought out a slew of worries in you. You did your best to swallow down the lump in your throat when suddenly, you were hit with the nostalgic smell of your old favorite food cart.

Was that grilled olm?? Your mind kicked into high gear. Your stomach let out a loud growl as if to protest the fact that you’d only had a cupcake for breakfast.

You turned to your companion with a pleading look in your eyes. “Oh man, I’m starving. Gepard, would you mind if I made a stop for some grub real quick? I promise it won’t be long!”

“Not at all,” he responded. Without a second to waste, you took off running towards the corner of town where all the food stalls were gathered.

Gepard looked from afar with a pensive look on his face. You’d always held a sort of confidence in the way you walked, but here, in your second hometown, you flitted from stall to stall with an aura of familiarity he had never seen before. You had no problem dodging obstacles that cropped up from nowhere; Gepard, however, felt like his limbs were made of wood as he tried in vain to catch up to you. His eyes had widened hilariously as he stepped into a pothole and his arms went flying in the air.

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaimed while offering your arm out to him for balance. You bit back a laugh at his flushed cheeks. “Would you want to sit down while I wait in line?”

He accepted your offer graciously, and took a seat at one of the low-seated tables by a chain link fence.

You gawked as you watched the Silvermane Guard Captain willingly plant himself at a kiddie table. Gepard could barely fit his knees under it, making him stick out like a giant rock crab.

But you were rudely jostled from your thoughts, as just when you were about to order, two men shouldered right in front of you. You recognized the red leather jackets they wore, symbolizing they were fight club combatants.

Ugh. Scott’s boys. Many knew all too well about his unsavory business practices. Some got involved because they had no choice. Others joined because they wanted the power. You had stayed far away from the institution, preferring to run with a more respectable crowd.

One of the men had chopped brown hair and messy stubble, while the other had blonde hair cut in a mullet. Although you couldn’t tell he was blonde at first, because almost every strand was coated in coal dust. You pinched your nose shut at the smell of motor oil and grease.

They were busy chatting up the vendor with no hint of shame at what they’d done. Your eyes narrowed as you saw one of them shoot a glance at you out of the side of his eye.

They knew damn well what they’d done.

You weren’t going to take this shit from a couple of Luka wannabes, you decided.

Before the brown-haired man could finish ordering, you rapped him on the shoulder harshly. He paused for a short moment to turn his head towards you.

“Excuse me,” you said with a hint of disdain. “I couldn’t help but notice you happened to jump the line,”

The man turned without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. “…and a plate of Belobog sausages with extra sauerkraut—,”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, you,” you interjected, tapping him again. “The line starts back there. Have you considered getting your eyes tested?”

“It’s just food, love,” he replied. The man paused for a second to spit a glob on the ground next to your shoe. Your lip curled in disgust.

“I see your mother never taught you manners,” you hissed.

The people behind you were starting to murmur.

You clenched your fist at your side as you stared him down, but before you could break his nose, you remembered that Gepard was still sitting by himself at the kiddie table.

You sighed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get into a fight in front of a refined young noble such as himself. He might have a heart attack.

Unfortunately, the brown-haired man wasn’t finished with you. He grabbed your coat collar and yanked you towards him as his companion snickered. You could make out every scar and every bead of sweat on his face.

Sheesh. Overkill, if you ask me.

“Look man, I’m sorry, okay?” You scowled. “Cut in line all you want. You’re the big man. Happy now?”

Okay, you had to admit that wasn’t the best apology in the world. But you would’ve vomited had you made it any nicer.

He snorted, reaching a calloused hand towards your messenger bag. “Yeah? Well, I oughta teach you not to—,”

You scraped the front of his shins as hard as you could with the inside of your steel-toed utility boots.

The man roared like a wounded bear and released your collar, enabling you the opportunity to push yourself away. As he fought through the haze of pain, he readied his stance to fling himself at you, when Gepard’s metal gauntlet pushed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do we have a problem here?” Your companion asked.

His blue eyes narrowed threateningly at the man, who was currently fighting Gepard’s iron grip. If the captain had let go at that moment, he would have absolutely torn you to shreds.

Murmurs began to erupt from the crowd, such as, “Why is the captain here?” And “serves him right,”

The man snarled again, frothing at the lips. This time, he went for Gepard, wrapping both hands around his throat. You witnessed his expression contort in surprise, and your hackles raised higher than they ever had.

Thinking on your feet, you grabbed the nearest plate of food— which happened to be Frostweave Salmon with cocktail sauce— and threw a large fillet at the man. It hit him square in the face, temporarily stunning him. Sure, it wasn’t a taser, but it was the best you could do.

His blonde-haired companion, having a better sense of self preservation than he did, yanked him backward and away from Gepard. One downward glance at his plethora of medals told him all he needed to know. He signaled at his friend to retreat for the time being, and they slunk away, shooting glares full of venom at you as they went.

You snuck a peek at the vendor, who was currently cowering behind the condiment station. She motioned to you with her hand:

Just go.

Slipping a few shields on the counter for the trouble, you sped off towards Rivet Town once more.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

“Want one?” You asked Gepard. You held up a limp fillet about 20cm away from his face.

“No, but thank you for the offer,” he declined politely. Your cheeks were still flushed with heat from the subsiding chaos.

“I appreciate your help, by the way,”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, in usual Gepard fashion. The captain’s forward gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

You soon reached the Rivet Town checkpoint run by two automaton hounds and a few vagrants with shovels. After quickly looking over your papers, they allowed you to enter the premises.

Ever since the disaster, the town had remained eerily silent. Even though it was safe, the only noise you could pick up was your own footsteps. You were so used to the background noise of gears grinding and metal squealing loudly, that the fact that you could hear your own breathing made a chill creep up your spine.

The creepy ambience aside, the salmon was awfully bland, you thought, while munching solemnly. The texture was that of something that had been frozen and thawed multiple times. You were disappointed the quality had dipped so low since you’d left.

“(Y/N), are you feeling alright?” Gepard’s voice rang out of the blue.

You nearly choked on a chunk of fish. “What? No, why?”

He looked at you with horror in his eyes. Realizing your mistake, you jumped in faster than you could say “chicken and mushroom skewer.”

“YES. I mean, yes! I’m okay, why do you ask?” You crammed the rest of the salmon in your mouth and tossed the empty plate in the nearest dumpster.

“Please excuse me for being intrusive, but you’re usually… a bit more talkative, perhaps?” Gepard said, scratching his chin. He had an instinctive desire to rest a hand on your shoulder, but you seemed farther away from him than usual, both physically and emotionally.

“I guess I do, huh?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m okay, just a little tired, I guess. Thanks for worrying, though,”

Gepard’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, but he didn’t want to intrude.

Meanwhile, you lamented at your emotional communication skills rivaling that of a five-year-old’s. You’d better pick up the slack before he started to suspect something.

As you continued on your not-so-leisurely stroll, you came across an open clearing, with nothing but a single food cart in the middle. It seemed to be fully operational, with steam still rising from the griddles.

The sight completely baffled Gepard.

“What reason would a food cart have to be all the way out here?” He asked.

“Oh, that?” You said, turning to look at the cart. The sight would’ve appeared completely eerie to a normal person; the cart had no wheels, and yet there weren’t any visible marks indicating it had been dragged from somewhere. “That’s Belobog Burritos, of course!”

“Belobog… Burritos?” He wondered aloud.

“Yep. It’s a food stall that’s kind of an urban legend. Been here as long as I can remember,” you shrugged. “It sits there every day, no owner or anything, but there’s always freshly made food. Even when the town went under, it was still up and running,”

You waved your hands in his face in a vague gesture that he assumed was supposed to be spooky. His irises made a concentrated effort to follow your every motion.

“…or so I’ve heard,” you continued. “Apparently, if you get something from the stall, you have to pay in full or some seriously bad stuff starts happening to you,”

Gepard cast a stiff look back at the cart, feeling his blood run as cold as ice. He suppressed a shudder and continued walking. But the thought kept weighing on his mind as he walked. He felt as if there was a lump in his throat, preventing him from breathing in all the way.

Jeez, he looks pretty shaken up, you thought as you stole a glance at him after a few minutes. His face was a few shades paler than it had been previously, and his neck was all stiff. It looked like he was trying his best to not be scared (and failing miserably).

Maybe you could hold his hand to make it less scary, a part of you whispered slyly.

You beat that internal voice with a sledgehammer as soon as it surfaced.

I guess I’ll check if he’s okay,

You tried to lay a hand on his deltoid, but completely missed and firmly patted his lower back— which was much more intimate a gesture than you’d attempted. Gepard’s shoulders flew upwards in a flash as he curled them in towards his chest, and his eyes blew wide open.

“Gyeep!” He let out a strangled shriek through clenched teeth.

Your jaw fell open.

“Oh, shit!” you stammered. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, are you alright?”

His armor rattled with how heavily he was breathing as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Sheesh, you had never seen him this shaken before.

Gepard’s face burned like a furnace. “I’m perfectly fine. Just ill at ease,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbing at his forehead with it.

That didn’t do much to convince you that bringing him had been the right idea. You sighed. Gepard really was too kind for his own good.

Holding out your elbow at a right angle, you made a small offer to reassure him.

“Want to hold on to me until we get there?” You asked. “It’s okay if you’re scared, you know,”

You glanced around at the old, ruined buildings, which were surrounded by barbed wire and rubble. The whole area felt hostile, even to you.

“I don’t blame you, honestly. This place is pretty freaky,” you said with a short laugh.

“Okay,” Gepard paused. “If it’s alright with you,”

You smiled warmly at him. “Go ahead,”

He raised his arm and gingerly placed a hand on your bicep, curling his fingers slightly around it for a better grip.

“There! You have nothing to fear now,” you said reassuringly. Gepard blushed. He wanted nothing more than to beat himself up for falling apart in front of you in such an uncouth manner.

You continued walking towards your destination; this time, his heartbeat felt a bit more relaxed with you at his side.

After a short while, the ruined structure of your old home appeared looming from the dark. As a monument to the destruction, the skeletal building almost seemed to reach towards the false sky above.

“Quaint, isn’t it,” you joked, turning towards Gepard. Looking at the house in its entirety, the shutters were missing from the windows, the roof was nonexistent, and the chimney had been mostly reduced to a pile of bricks. It was entirely unsalvageable from a realist’s perspective.

The captain studied your features carefully— you showed no traces of hurt or anger that would normally be present at such a scene.

It puzzled him, how you were able to maintain such a cheerful demeanor when a building that was supposed to represent comfort and safety was torn completely to shreds. He was filled with admiration at how well you had held yourself together.

“Let’s go in,” you said. You nudged away the splintered wood door with your elbow and stepped into the building— you really hoped it hadn’t been ransacked while you were away.

Gepard’s hand dropped reluctantly to his side. He followed suit, scanning the interior for any structural instabilities.

“What are you searching for?” He inquired.

You were busy bending down over a fallen bookshelf with books scattered in its midst. You analyzed the wreckage; a few ceramic teacups and saucers lay crushed under the impact zone, which you took care to avoid.

You brushed a few coal-black cobwebs out of your way that made you want to pull your skin off. “Just an old phonograph. It meant a lot to me as a kid, so I figured it was time I went back for it,” you said, not bothering to mention the dream you’d had that morning.

As much as you wanted to deny it, it almost felt like the phonograph was the one part of the dream that could come true. Hearing the music you listened to in your childhood again wasn’t a hard thing to accomplish, but that lovely, soft feeling that had blanketed your heart when you had realized that Gepard was waiting for you in that kitchen— you didn’t think you could recreate that.

Considering your dream would never, ever happen.

You felt disappointment form a hard lump in your stomach.

When did I start believing in a pipe dream? You wondered. Natasha would scold you for chasing such nebulous goals.

“I got a promotion recently too. I was actually considering moving out and getting an apartment instead of staying at the florist’s. It gets crowded there sometimes,” you said offhandedly.

“You got promoted?” Gepard replied, his eyebrows arching in surprise. He hadn’t heard anything about this, even with Serval serving as the best grapevine around.

“Yeah, I did!” You said happily. “I totally forgot to mention it because—,”

I’ve been avoiding you since we went to the museum, whispered your inside voice.

“I… wanted to surprise the others,” you drabbled, your shoulders drooping the slightest bit. But you picked them up as fast as you could.

“Of course,” he said. “You have my sincerest congratulations,”

That sent another pang of guilt through you. He was so incredibly earnest. And here you were, lying straight to his face in order to keep him at an arm’s distance. All because your own feelings were too much to handle.

You needed something to take your mind off the situation, and quickly.

“Hey, check this out!” You said with a little more artificial enthusiasm than you’d intended. “This photo is practically ancient!”

You hoisted an old sepia photo of you and your grandmother in front of your chest. You were watching her lift a tray of cookies into the oven in the kitchen. There was a huge variety of sweets, including chocolate buckeyes, and coconut macarons. You missed her baking more than anything.

In the picture, your grandma wore a simple lilac apron, decorated lovingly with white lace around the edges. It was incredibly well-made; you’d had trouble finding one of similar quality ever since (even though the goods were supposed to be super high-end in the overworld).

Gepard, however, had lost all ability to speak, completely blown away by the piece of your past you had so voluntarily let him see.

You looked so joyful as a child, completely free of expectations that would have been bestowed upon you had you been raised as a noble, like him. That wide, toothless smile held treasures he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“So cute…” you muttered softly. You quietly removed the picture from its frame and slipped it into your bag, where you felt it rest alongside your old pickaxe that you brought with you everywhere.

Running a quick check in the tiny hall closet, you thought you heard the high-pitched sound of ice cracking in the kitchen.

Weird, you thought, poking your head around the corner to take a better look. But what you saw nothing short of baffled you.

An ice-type Fragmentum creature, donning the damaged apron of your beloved grandmother, stood in front of the oven range. The kitchen itself was mostly intact, save for a few boxes of grains scattered about and a few appliances knocked over.

“Oh,” you started. “Son of a—,”

The creature let loose a gurgling sound from its throat and charged at you.

“Shit—!” You yelped as you scrabbled around for the nearest weapon. All reason leaving you, you completely forgot about the pickaxe in your bag. In the few seconds before it reached you, you took notice of a rusty frying pan hanging from a holder on the wall. Mimicking Gepard, you swung it with every drop of strength in your body and landed a forceful whack on the side the monster’s head.

The sound of metal on metal rang out all through the house. Bits of ice fell off the creature, sizzling with eerie smoke as they hit the tiled floor.

The figure struggled to regain its balance, reaching its icy claws toward your face. You could feel the icy chill radiating off of them, stealing your heat away.

That’s my heat, you bastard!

Gepard, having certainly heard the commotion, came speeding into the room like the cheetah he was named after. You were clinging onto the back of the monster, which was bucking you around like a Voidranger in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

In a sudden burst of effort, it flung you backwards and sent you careening into one of the cabinets. Bits of rotten wood showered on you from the impact, and a stray spice bottle hit you on the head. You disgustedly spit out the sawdust that had snuck into your mouth and caked your tongue.

The captain desperately scanned the room for something to use. The kitchen was far too small to activate his shielding device, so he wrapped his arms around the nearest table and hurled it straight at the icy foe (all while praying you wouldn’t be furious at him afterward for ruining your kitchen).

Thankfully, the table made an excellent weapon. It sent the monster sprawling across the floor with a creaking groan. Gepard then launched himself at it and pinned it to the floor with his arms.

Unfortunately, the enemy hadn’t quite given up yet. It wrestled one of its arms free of Gepard’s grasp and reached its clawed hand to slice at his lower legs. In a strange fit of ingenuity, you grabbed your pickaxe out of your bag, wedged it under the Fragmentum creature’s head, and just like a bottle cap— you twisted its head clean off.

Letting out a sickening crack, the monster’s head rolled leisurely across the floor and bonked into an open cabinet door. You nearly vomited at the sight.

Now unoccupied, Gepard rushed to your side. “Are you—,” he started.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “I’m okay,”

You clutched your chest while letting out wheezing gasps.

The captain glanced around the area worriedly. “I think it’s best we get going. There could very well be more monsters around here,”

“Wait—,” you gasped, scrambling to your feet. “I think— I think I found it,”

You peered into the cabinet that had been violently smashed o pieces. Something glinted at you from the debris— but a grinding sound came from outside that made your hair on your neck stand completely on end.

Bending down, you brushed away the wood chips from the spice cabinet and successfully uncovered the old phonograph. It was in decent condition, aside from a few screws missing, and your family’s record collection lay right beneath it.

“Ah, classic gran,” you said aloud. She did have a habit of putting things in the wrong places, after all. That saved you from having to check the upstairs floor.

“Okay, now let’s go,” you declared. You crammed as much of the device as you could into your bag, the horn still handing out of the flap, and made a mad dash for the front door. Gepard’s armor rattled as he followed suit.

We better tell the guards about this, you thought while your feet pounded against the pavement. Your breath condensed in large clouds as your throat burned with the taste of iron.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to see if Gepard was still following, just in time to see his eyes widen in horror.

Your boots left long marks in the dirt as you skidded to a halt. There you stood, aghast, as you realized what greeted you wasn’t the exit— but an automaton Direwolf.

It stood tall and menacing, with steam pouring out its joints and pistons that fired like a heartbeat. As a piece of technology from the old world, no one fully understood how they worked, not even denizens of the Robot Settlement, who modified and repaired them for a living. It made dealing with hostile ones a living hell.

“By the Architects,” Gepard swore. “(Y/N), find somewhere to hide, quickly!”

You obliged, opting for the nearest shelter that happened to be a pile of crates and barrels to the right of him. You crouched like a bear cub with your knees pressed to your chest as you tried to get a grasp on the situation from your location. Your companion was gearing up to ready himself for battle.

Shit. I need an opening to activate Earthwork, Gepard thought. He hoisted the barrier-device-slash-guitar-case defensively. I have no one to cover for me here,

The aggressor made of meshing cogs eyed him ominously through its crosshair. He eyed it back, the gaze of a predator in his eyes. He refused to falter, even minutely. Doing so would mean death for the both of you.

It raised its one chainsaw arm with a thundering roar, and the battle began.

The earth shook tremendously with every step as it sped forward, full-throttle. Gepard’s heart thrummed as he tried to consider all his options, but it was closing the distance faster than he could formulate his thoughts. He couldn’t roll right or risk giving away your position, or dodge too much and risk leading it towards the settlements. But a solid hit to one of the leg joints would slow it down considerably.

The automaton Direwolf swung ferociously at the captain, cutting large glowing divots in the nearby boulders that sizzled as they touched the surrounding air. Steam hissed, loud and high-pitched in your ears, bringing out a type of instinctual fear from within you.

A grimace crossed Gepard’s features. Direwolves were built for speed, so there was no chance you could both outrun it. Additionally, there was nothing that could escape the gaze of its optical sensor with so little cover around. He was going to have to fight it head-on.

It raised its mechanical arm to strike once more. The captain grasped his battering ram firmly by the handle, and swung it in a large arc. It landed a solid blow in between the metal plates that comprised its abdominal area, and sparks showered in the air, suggesting a sufficient amount of damage had been dealt.

The now open wires sizzled as the automaton staggered backwards. Gepard wasted no time seizing the opportunity; he was relentless in his following sequence of attacks, aiming for the most vital points concealed within the machinery.

He ducked under its flailing limbs and struck a heavy blow on the machine’s back. But it swiveled its torso around unexpectedly, without moving its legs even a millimeter, and swung at him again, leaving deep scores in the earth. Gepard skidded out of the way, leaving his cape billowing wildly behind him with the following dust cloud.

Your eyes flickered around the area as clangs and thuds rang out around the clearing. You reached a mitten-clad hand out tentatively to slink along the ground, but retracted it as white-hot sparks showered your exposed forearm. You had to make your next move, and quickly.

There was no way Gepard could win a battle of endurance. Not even with his superhuman amount of stamina. You almost called out to him, but halted when you realized it could easily draw the Direwolf’s attention to you. And you had nothing but your old pickaxe in your bag to defend yourself with.

You had to get help. It made no difference if it was the vagrants with shovels or the entirety of the Silvermane Guards. You had to make sure Gepard got out safe.

You ran a quick scan over the area; there were a few other piles of debris that were sizable enough to stay out of the monster’s field of view. If you could just make it to the exit, you’d be free to call for help.

Ducking your head, you sprinted to the closest pile and dove behind it. You snuck a quick peek at the scene. Gepard was still holding his own. Good.

This time around, you hid behind a barrel laying on its side. A patch of metal lattice fell over with a loud crash due to the shockwaves of the fight, but the machine paid you no mind.

Finally, you resorted to shuffling on your hands and knees to crawl just out of view behind a tarp that was almost threadbare. By this point, your pants were ripped and your knees were bleeding, picking up bits of rocks and glass that stuck to your sticky skin. But you ignored it. You were in the homestretch. The guards couldn’t be too far away now, they had probably heard all the commotion and—

You heard a loud thud that made your limbs completely freeze over.

Trembling, you turned ever-so-slightly behind you. You caught sight of a stray barrel rolling over to bump itself on your foot, followed by a pained groan that stole your breath right from your throat.

Gepard?

In the dim lighting, you could vaguely make out a figure clad in silver and gold, laying limply against a wall, a few broken crates on each side. Fire flickered in the background, illuminating the barrier device laying discarded on the ground, just out of arm’s reach for him.

You noticed something drip down slowly from the top of his head and soak into his fur collar, staining it a bright crimson. His eyes were closed, and he was showing no signs of moving.

Blood… that was definitely blood.

Time seemed to grind to a halt around you. Your knees threatened to give out, and you could only vaguely make out the sound of your own voice— screaming, wailing— something that wasn’t quite words. The sounds from the enemy machine sounded muffled, as if they were deep underwater, in a world different from your own.

Shaking profusely, you became aware of just how much fear had saturated your body. But you had to keep moving. The captain was alive until proven otherwise.

And you would hang on until the very end.

You ground your teeth together and made a quick sweep of the area. There was a package of dynamite that miners used to blow apart piles of debris to your right, but you had nothing to light it with. Even if you did, you didn’t trust your aim enough to keep Gepard out of the blast radius. To your left lay some books, a radio, and— an oddly shaped rock?

Whatever. It was just the right size for throwing.

You stuffed it in between your arms and pushed aside another book just in time to spot one of the old flares the miners used to use.

Yes! That could be your saving grace.

Your arms wavered so much that you thought that they might fall out, but you had to keep going. Gepard’s life was on the line.

You whipped back around and cranked your arm back far as it could go, when suddenly, you felt something whir and vibrate in your palm— and a strange mechanical voice rang out in your ear.

“Hello,” said the voice, which seemed to be coming from your palm. “I am Findie, model 17703 of the home-finding series. Please input your instructions, and I will locate whatever you are looking for!”

You whipped the rock(?) in front of your face. One of the gears rotated, as if it were waving “hi” to you.

“What the FUCK??” You roared in surprise.

A rock was a rock, no matter how much it yapped, you decided. You twisted the cap off of the fuse, wound your arm up, and chucked the rock with the fury of a blizzard.

“Over here, asshole!” You screamed. Your fear tore through your body like a tornado, threatening to tear you apart.

Fury rolled off of you in waves as you held the fuse high above your head. Clouds of red smoke rose into the air and billowed around you, swirling around your dust-covered face.

The rock landed square on the machine’s metal head with a loud tang.

The machine turned towards you menacingly for a short moment, but immediately refocused on the prey directly in front of it.

Shit. That was bad.

You scrabbled on the ground for anything you could get your hands on. A lantern? That would do. A plank of wood? Why not. Who gave a shit at this point??

Anything that would get you out of there and safe and sound. You’d promised you would help Serval with an invention later that week, and you weren’t one to break your promises.

The items bounced off of the machine one after another. It would halt its movements every time one made contact, but you were running out of things to throw.

Tears and ash clogged your eyes, but you wouldn’t let up, even for a second. Not until every bone in your body was forcefully broken and you were bruised and battered into next month.

“Get your GRUBBY HANDS off of him!” You roared. Tears and snot were streaming down your face now, and your entire body screamed at you to run, escape, anything. But you forced your feet to stay rooted to the ground where they were.

Gepard’s head lolled weakly to the side. You choked as you assumed the worst had come to fruition, and you felt as if the world was crumbling around you.

You were in the middle of chucking a portable radio at the thing when you heard the smattering of feet heading in your direction. You gasped as a wayward antenna poked you right in the eye.

Soldiers. And a lot of them, at that.

Guards in Silvermane uniforms stormed the clearing, waving around halberds, cannons, and muskets galore. Without wasting a second, the cannoneers let out a barrage of attacks that nearly blew both of your ears off.

“Backup is here, Captain!” One of the soldiers announced. You spotted a slight movement from the spot where he lay.

Another wave of firing went off. Cannonballs embedded themselves in the joints of the machine, inhibiting its movement— it began to creak and sway on its feet. Evidently enough, it realized that the most imminent threat came from the squadron of soldiers that had arrived, rather than Gepard, who was likely unconscious.

The main soldier continued issuing orders. You watched him, completely enraptured, from behind. You hardly noticed as a Silvermane gunner snuck up from behind you, and shuttled you somewhere out of harm’s way.

Soldiers had successfully managed to surround the automaton, impeding its movement. The Direwolf stamped its feet in confusion at the sudden commotion.

Shots rang out once more, and several nets weighed down by iron balls wrapped around the machine— along with a grappling hook that tied its legs together with a cord. But the machine sliced through the feeble wires with little effort.

As you took a step back, something clanked against your thigh from inside your bag. You gasped, turning to the soldier beside you with a realization.

“You have to disable the control panel,” you said, recalling your previous knowledge of when you worked in the mines.

“We’re more than aware of that,” he said curtly. He turned back to the battlefields without as much as another word.

“Yes, but the door to the panel is impervious to attacks. Could you take out the optical sensor on its face, maybe?”

The guard sighed, but shouted to the nearest cannoneer to aim a shot towards its face. An explosion burst from the area where the attack had landed. The automaton was now twitching violently with its sensors disabled.

Gepard, who was slowly regaining consciousness, sensed the sudden halt in activity. It was far noisier than it had been previously, the shouts of men and the clanging of metal made his head throb with pain. Sticky red liquid coated his falling eyelids, staining his vision red. The captain ignored the pounding in his skull and forced himself to his feet.

I… have to… I’m… still.. needed…

His body groaned with effort. He fought through the haze of pain and commanded his eyes to focus.

Earthwork was just a hair’s breath away. All he had to do was grab it.

Qlipoth… give me strength!

The captain mustered every ounce of courage in his body, bracing his arm against a nearby wall for support. Blood dripped down his face with even more fervor, but he wiped it off with his glove, sending a few small droplets smattering to the ground.

“The captain— he’s alive!” One of the men cheered. You gasped as you saw him stagger to his feet.

Gepard willed his muscles to move and dove in between the machine’s legs. He snatched his weapon and spun, quickly smashing it in one of its knees. The Direwolf lost its footing and toppled over immediately.

“Captain, use this!”

Gepard swiveled, surprised to hear the voice coming from not one of his own soldiers, but you.

Your pickaxe sailed through the air and clattered on the ground at his feet.

“Use it to break into the control panel on its chest,” you instructed with a shout. “There should be an emergency off switch right in the center!”

He grabbed the tool, but instead of using it to pry open the door to the circuit breaker, he punched it repeatedly with the metal gauntlet on his right hand until the steel door crumpled like a piece of paper. Your jaw dropped in shock at the sheer ferocity of the sight.

Clinging to the machine’s torso, Gepard scanned the machine’s chest cavity for the switch. But bundles and bundles of wires blocked his view.

The gigantic machine began to rumble. Gepard had to act, urgently. There wasn’t enough time to search for the switch, but he had to do something.

As thoughts fired through his brain like lightning, he had an idea. He could use the pickaxe to hook under the wires and pull them out. If he used his hands, his metal gauntlet would likely act as a lightning rod and thoroughly fry him, but the pickaxe’s handle was entirely made of wood. It was a decent shot.

The captain held the pickaxe with both his hands and used it to dig under the nest of wires, using his legs to anchor him to the machine— and yanked backwards until the threads snapped. He did it again, this time winding them around the pickaxe like spaghetti before pulling once again.

The machine fizzled and popped, its lights flickering before finally succumbing to the damage and collapsed, leaving enormous dust clouds in its wake. You covered your mouth with your shirt to avoid breathing them in.

Gepard’s chest heaved with great effort, and three guards hurried to his side, immediately, shouting things like, “Captain, are you injured?” And “Captain, we were so worried!” You were surprised at just how much emotion the usually stoic guards’ voices held when dealing with their leader.

The young noble let out an enormous sigh of relief. As soldiers practically swarmed him on all sides, one offered their shoulder for him to lean on, and they hobbled back towards the Silvermane Guard camp together.

You were barely aware of the sensation of someone throwing a blanket around your shoulders (even though you were still sweating buckets), and leading you to another location. You figured this was the secondary location of the Silvermane Guards’ camp, reserved for dealing with the public.

Said location was farther than Gepard than you had hoped it would be, but you couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. You were dropped off at an inconspicuous tent that was complete with snacks and apple juice to await further instructions. You felt much like a lost child.

The tent had a few tarps and blankets on the ground to shield you from the cold, hard ground, which would suck the heat out of any living thing that it came into contact with. It also included a stack of down pillows in the corner, which you readily surrounded yourself with, stacking a few to prop yourself up like a makeshift recliner. They definitely weren’t the softest things in the world, but they offered a welcome respite for your aching bones.

Although the tent’s canvas was reasonably thick, voices still managed to make their way in from outside. Bits and pieces of conversations, mostly about the incident and how you were faring. You wish they’d just ask you, honestly.

The next time you heard someone’s voice, you took the opportunity to creep out of your tent and ask them how Gepard was doing. The recipient of your questioning was power-walking with a few rifles in their arms that were likely being brought back to the barracks.

You lifted a hand to get their attention. “Excuse me, is Gep—,”

You bit your tongue. The sheer amount of guilt that welled up in your throat was utterly stifling. You didn’t have the right to address him with so little respect after what he’d been through.

“Um…” you continued, fighting through the anxiety that threatened to close your windpipe. “Is the captain okay?”

“Captain Gepard?” The soldier turned to face you. “Yes, he has a few injuries, but he will survive,”

You let out a wheezing sigh of relief that made your knees shake. “Thank Qlipoth. What kind of injuries?”

“Well— he got his brains jostled around a little bit when his head got bashed against a wall,” the soldier mused. He had an air of casual-ness about him. “He has a few lacerations from some shrapnel as well. Did you see the one on his head? That one was real nasty,”

Nothing had prepared you for the way the ground wriggled beneath you or how your stomach flipped inside out and backwards. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as your diaphragm heaved uncomfortably. You staggered over to the scrap metal pile, where you proceeded to vomit up the meal you’d gotten from the food stall earlier.

The soldier watched as you wiped away the vile liquid dripping from your chin and turned back around.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Why the hell would you say it like that?? You glowered at him internally. He shuddered, feeling your gaze on him.

At that moment, you wanted to be anywhere else but there.

“I’ll uh— I’ll get you a cup of tea,” the soldier said apologetically. You took a seat on a wooden crate, bracing yourself by gripping its edges so tightly you thought your knuckles would freeze that way.

They came back in a heartbeat with a steaming cup of tea, as promised. It was the type commonly used in the Silvermane Guards’ rations. You drank it gratefully, elated to finally be rid of the taste of vomit in your mouth.

After you’d finished, you asked if there was anything you could help with around camp. The guard looked at you like you’d sprouted an extra head.

“H-help out? Why?” He asked. “We couldn’t possibly ask you to help out all you’ve been through, Mx. (Y/N),”

After all I’ve been through, huh?

You barked a dry laugh.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you said plainly. “You all have done so much for me. I feel like I owe it to you all,”

You clenched your fist to quell the slight bitterness that was eating at you. “Besides, the only reason I made it out of there alive was because the captain saved me,”

The soldier sighed, loaded with uncertainty at your statement. “I’m not sure, since it’s technically against protocol to enlist the help of citizens without proper reason. But firstly, you should go see the lieutenant—,” he said, resting his hand on his chin. “—I believe he wanted to obtain an incident report from you, but there’s a chance he’ll have a job for you to do afterward,” he pointed you in the direction of the tent, which had a large dark blue banner flying above it.

“Right, okay,” you acquiesced. You set your cup down, dusted off your tunic, and waved the soldier goodbye. He waved back, with a slight air of confusion about what had just happened.

Meanwhile, guards milled about everywhere you went. You soundlessly slipped into the tent you had been directed to, awaiting your sentencing, sitting down in a foldable metal chair in front of a desk with a quill and an inkwell. You flinched at how cold it was.

The tents here weren’t the most comfortable thing ever, but they were much neater than the ones in the vagrant camp, where people hoarded every scrap of metal they could get their hands on. This led to tents looking more like portable junkyard balloons.

A breeze of air whisked its way inside as the tent flaps peeled open, and the lieutenant’s metal visor glowed like a flame in the lamplight. The man had to duck a fair bit so as not to act as an extra support pole inside the tent.

He set down his hefty shield with a clunk, all while sitting down in front of you. A sheaf of papers also made its appearance from his bag, and he shuffled through them with incredible dexterity (considering he wore clunky metal gauntlets on both hands).

“Hello,” the man said, raising his hand in greeting. “I’m Lieutenant Thrace Hawthorne of the 4th Division of Silvermane Guards. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You must be (Y/N), I presume?” He asked as he extended his other hand towards you.

You took it cautiously, keeping a close eye on his body language. “Yes, that’s me. I was instructed to come here by another guard,”

He gave you a firm handshake, but squeezed your knuckles in a way that made them throb with pain. Air hissed thinly through your teeth. “Yes, and I thank you for being here as we intended,”

You retracted your arm, eyeing the man up and down suspiciously. You couldn’t discern his facial expressions with that stupid hat in the way.

“—you are aware that the Silvermane Guards do everything in our power to maintain a safe environment for the people of Belobog, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied obediently.

“And, in order to keep the Guards as safe as possible, we need as much information as we can get,”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said while dipping the pen nib into the inkwell. “So, I will be asking you a few questions about what happened down here today. Is that alright with you?”

You agreed, albeit not too enthusiastically. Something in your gut told you that you didn’t exactly have the option to refuse.

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he replied smoothly. “So, what kind of business were you two conducting in Rivet Town earlier today?

You paused, scratching your chin. “I went to retrieve an family heirloom from my old home. Captain Gepard was merely accompanying me at that time,” you explained. “We intended to be in and out in less than half an hour,”

The man across from you scribbled down a few notes. “Were you aware that it was a dangerous area at the time?”

“I was not. We had been told it was largely safe,” you responded. “Threats that severe shouldn’t have been lurking there, as far as we knew,”

Lieutenant Hawthorne tutted, which rubbed you the wrong way. Just his presence made you want to itch. “Where or from whom did you receive this information?”

“No one in particular. I’d just heard word on the street,”

“Any particular people that come to mind?”

“No, sorry,” you shook your head. You’d seen far too many people on your way to recall accurately who had told you what.

“Okay. And why was Captain Gepard accompanying you at that time?”

“I was visiting Natasha, and she had said that it might be best if someone came with me, because it might not be particularly safe,”

“Ah… that Natasha,” The man mused. “Wildfire’s leader,” he said, flipping the page over. You pursed your lips at him as something twisted in your gut. You didn’t trust this man as far as you could throw him and his stupid gigantic shield.

Don’t you dare say her name like that, you hissed.

“The captain himself volunteered to go,” you jumped in quickly. “That’s just the way he—,”

You froze, realizing you’d given away more than you’d intended to. Your emotions had gotten the better of you.

Hawthorne’s gaze was unwavering through his silver visor. “Interesting… on the other hand, what is Miss Natasha like?”

This time, you thought through your words carefully. “She’s— she’s a kind woman and one of the hardest working people in the underworld. She takes care of people at every possible opportunity,”

“What’s her relationship to you?” He inquired.

“She’s the local doctor. Everyone knows her,” you said bluntly.

“Does she have any strong opinions about the Guards that you know of?” The lieutenant asked.

“Not that I’m aware,” you shook your head. “She’s never refused their help or spoken badly of them,” you explained. “She has the best intentions for everyone, no matter their background,”

Unlike you, you slimy bastard, you whispered internally.

Lieutenant Hawthorne asked you a few more questions, mostly about the automaton and the rescue, such as what color it was, if there were any discernible features, etc., before asking completely out of the blue,

“Are you romantically involved with Captain Gepard?”

“No??” You shot a look loaded with incredulity at him. “With all due respect, where did that come from, sir?”

“He’s never mentioned you before,” Hawthorne stated. His voice was like unbending steel. “An affair is unlikely, but not impossible,”

Who in their right mind would arrange a secret rendezvous in RIVET TOWN?? You snorted. This officer wasn’t worth a lukewarm bottle of rye bread soda.

“Then what is your relationship with him?”

Hah. As if I knew, you scoffed. You tried to formulate an answer as best you could.

“We’re friends. And I assume that, like most people, Gepard likes to keep his work and his life separate. That is all,” you said, your tone as flat as a sheet of paper.

“I can tell from your tone that you did not particularly enjoy those last few questions,” the man said, resting his hands on the table. “But this incident was incredibly serious. The guards may suspect some sort of foul play,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You clenched your fists at your sides so hard your knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry for asking something so intrusive. But, a word of advice, (Y/N)—,” the lieutenant said, motioning towards you. “I suggest you keep your distance from the captain for the time being. As a witness of such an alarming incident, you wouldn’t want to draw attention to yourself,”

I know that, you gritted your teeth. I’m not stupid,

“Especially considering how he was outside of his usual territory. Some might think you lured him there on purpose,”

You bit back tears, pinching the bridge of your nose to hide your quivering jaw. “Sure. I’ll keep your advice in mind, thanks,”

Turning away so that he couldn’t see your expression, you pushed aside the tent flaps with barely controlled anger.

You knew he was right. All you ever did was get Gepard into odd situations that he wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Guilt crashed over you in waves. You were a bad influence, dragging him everywhere without a spare thought for his job or reputation. And he was probably too kind to turn you down otherwise.

Did he even really like you?

You knew this thought was ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe, you had deluded yourself into believing it. It sent sharp jabs of pain through your chest that wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to think around it.

You walked in circles around camp in an attempt to calm yourself down. But it didn’t work. Finally, you ran across the same soldier that had given you tea earlier, and pestered him politely enough that he finally revealed Gepard’s location to you.

You had to get word from the man himself, or you’d never find peace.

After a few minutes of walking around, you spotted a tent that had a few more soldiers milling about it than usual.

Not knowing whether or not their eyes were on you, you approached it cautiously. You crept in even though your mind wasn’t sure if you really deserved to be there.

The medical tent was dark— you had to scrunch your eyes up a fair bit to adjust to the lighting. But, using the small sliver of light filtering in from the inside, you could faintly make out the shape of Gepard lying motionlessly on a cot.

You quietly pulled a metal bin up next to his right side to serve as a shoddy chair. It was then that you realized the true extent of the damage you had done.

The captain’s head was wrapped in bandages that partially covered his left eye. A pad of gauze with adhesive tape on each side was stuck to his chin, and there was a pillow on each side of his head to keep his neck in place, along with one under him to keep him supported. Most of his armor, such as the metal breastplate and his medals, had been removed and set aside, save for the metal arm armor he wore. You wondered if someone had forgotten to remove it.

You noticed his cape hanging torn from a metal rack, and stared at it with a plaintive expression for a few. You didn’t think there was anything you were capable of doing to make this situation any better.

Sighing, you rested an elbow on your knee while tracing the outline of his hand with your free arm. He was resting so peacefully— albeit his eyebrows were a bit furrowed— maybe it would be best if you let him rest for now and came back later?

You rose to your feet quietly like a mouse. But even with a severe head injury, the captain’s perception hadn’t dampened a bit. He began to stir.

“Mmm… Franz? What is it?” He croaked weakly, his brows furrowing the slightest bit. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Franz, is that you?” The captain asked again, a little bit stronger this time. You flinched as he wined in pain. He was definitely feeling the hit he’d taken. You returned to your seat on the frosty metal bin.

“No, sorry,” you said softly. Your stomach churned like butter just looking at him. “…it’s me,”

You patted his hand gingerly, willing your tears to go away.

“(Y/N)…”

Gepard opened his eyes to get a better look in the dim lighting of the tent. You leaned over the cot, your eyes filled to the brim with guilt and ash covering your cheekbones.

“I’m… glad that you’re safe,” he rasped. The captain cleared his throat painfully.

“That’s my line, dummy,” you smiled at him, slightly relieved. But your voice was loaded with pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “There was a lot of… blood… as they were carrying you out,”

“I received a fairly bad cut right above my left eye,” he said. “They gave me a few stitches for it. I did hit my head pretty badly, but it’s nothing life threatening, thankfully,”

“Thanks the architects,” you sighed. “Your armor looks pretty beat up too. Are you gonna get it fixed?”

“It did its job,” Gepard replied. Lantern light hit its surface and it glinted, as if it was agreeing. “My rib cage could have cracked otherwise,”

He patted one of his ribs with his gloved hand to hammer the point home. You felt another twinge of guilt in your chest.

“R-right. Is there anything you need? Like water, y’know,” you murmured.

“I’m satisfied for now. Franz got me everything I needed earlier,” he cut you off.

“Okay,” you chewed on your lip in silence. Your hands fidgeted with nothing, as if searching for something to do.

You could tell Gepard’s eyes were trained on you, but you kept your own focused on the ground. A few chunks of dirt surrounded your feet where they had broken off from your boots that drew your attention.

Tears kept threatening to well up in your lower eyelids, but Preservation be damned— you were not going to cry right in front of him.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve, which unfortunately still smelled like bile, and feigned a cough to make the action less conspicuous.

“Y’know… I wanted to thank you for saving me back there,” you paused, staring off into the distance. “I got off with nothing but a few scratches because you kept me safe,”

Gepard hummed in acknowledgment, for he was unable to nod with his head and neck incapacitated. What you couldn’t hear, however, was how the inside of his head had whispered to him that if you had gotten injured, he would never have forgiven himself. The captain couldn’t say it outright— but he hoped that the way he gazed at you so longingly would get the message across.

With your nerves ticking at the fact he hadn’t said anything, you added, “They asked me like, a million questions before they let me go,” you chuckled lightly. It felt misplaced, but it was the best you could do to cheer him up.

Gepard didn’t seem to find the humor in it, though. His eyes stared back up at the ceiling. “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah,” you twiddled your thumbs slightly. “Some guy named Hawthorne— he sat me down for an hour or two earlier. He seemed kinda shady,”

“Oh, Lieutenant Hawthorne?” Gepard pondered. “I know of him. He may come off as a bit cunning, but he means well. Hawthorne lost his brother during the quarantine of the underworld. He just wants to keep the guards safe from any threat, so that no one has to go through the same experience he did,”

“Really?” You gasped in shock. “I guess I owe the guy an apology then,” you said, resting your head in your hands as your chest twinged with embarrassment.

“…I really jumped the gun on that one, huh?” You sighed.

“I don’t blame you,” Gepard replied. “Trusting your gut is important. And you would have more than enough reason to harbor some animosity, given the way the guards treated you all here previously,”

Something about his voice— although it wasn’t outright comforting— soothed your nerves a bit. Only someone so level-headed could reassure you so well, you laughed inwardly. Which was impressive— considering he was lying exhausted and halfway dead in front of you.

Maybe you didn’t have the right to be scared, because this was just the nature of his job (you know, the one he did every day for a living). But he was supposed to fight valiantly for Belobog’s people,

Not a single, worthless vagrant like yourself.

You kept inhaling a preparatory breath to speak, but each time the words would vanish right as they were about to exit your lips.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to spit it out.

“Gepard… I have a question to ask you,” you paused. “It’s kind of weird— but is that okay?”

The young noble’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Surely it wasn’t— no, it didn’t look like it.

That wasn’t the face of someone who was about to confess. He scolded himself mentally. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about it. Instead, every hill and valley of your expression was laden with worry and pain. He wished he could sit up and take you into his arms, so he could whisk all of that pain away.

“It’s fine with me,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s just—,” oh Aeons, this is so embarrassing, “Why is it that you hang around someone like me? If I’m being honest, I really don’t understand,”

Gepard’s mouth went dry.

“Someone like you? What might you mean by that?” He inhaled sharply.

“I’m just a troublemaker,” you replied, smiling sadly at him. “And you’re a guard. We’re as different as winter and spring,” you were taken aback almost disbelievingly.

“You’re hardly a troublemaker,” Gepard retorted. “At least, not in Serval’s sense, where she deliberately makes things harder for me,”

Okay, well, maybe not deliberately.

You grimaced. “That may be true. But, I cause you problems in other ways. Like, that time at the cafe tables. You’re a public figure, for Qlipoth’s sake! What was I thinking, pulling you up there in broad daylight?”

You clamped your mouth shut before you ran entirely out of breath. “My presence also puts a strain on your reputation. I’m from the underworld. We’re supposed to be lazy and dishonest, y’know,” you scolded. “I hear old ladies whispering about it all the time,”

You kept yammering, “Hawthorne even asked me if you were off horsing around with me because I brought you out there today,” you groaned frustratedly. “All I do is get you into weird situations,”

You were a centimeter away from pulling all your hair out.

“That’s not entirely true. I get into plenty of weird situations myself,” Gepard protested. “For instance, Serval—,”

“Stop throwing your sister under the bus!” You barked, proceeding to pinch him in the thigh.

“Agh—!” He flinched with a yelp. “As I was saying— that isn’t true in the slightest. Yes, we may have ended up in a few strange situations. But those are a rare minority of the times we spend together,” he shot back.

Gepard reached out and rested his gloved hand on your knee reassuringly, a new look coming across his face. Your heart twirled in your chest.

“Did you know that before we met, my days were largely routine… just like clockwork?” He asked.

“But you brought excitement into my life,” he declared. “Being friends with someone unaffiliated with the guards has been incredibly beneficial in terms of my own personal happi—,”

The captain cleared his throat before he gave away anything more. His cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “A-anyways,” he sputtered. “The benefits of being your companion far outweigh any drawbacks you think you might have,”

A noise of surprise escaped from your throat as you felt your face begin to heat. Wow, he sure had a way with words. But you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“I— well, what are the guards going to think about you nearly getting killed over a stupid piece of junk?!?” You blurted out, your voice breaking. The phonograph in your bag bumped against the cot at the sudden outburst.

Gepard searched your eyes in vain for what you might be feeling, but he came up completely empty. His chest fell at your distressed face.

“It’s true that the guards are tasked with many important duties,” he began, enunciating each and every word slowly. “Such as defending the union, serving the people, and enforcing the orders of the Supreme Guardian… I believe my help today would fall under the ‘serving the people’ category,”

You tilted your head at him as if to beckon him to explain further.

“We get called to track down lost pets or put up posters quite frequently, in fact. It may not be the most exciting job, but it is an honor to help the citizens of Belobog in any way, shape, or form,” he said stubbornly. “And you are one of the people, are you not?”

He defiantly exhaled through his nose. You were left looking at him, slack-jawed. He’d left you almost no room to argue.

“But— I’m not a technically a citizen of Belobog. I’m just a random vagrant from the mines!” You argued. It was a dumber point than you wanted to push, but you knew no other way to fight back.

“Belobogian creed dictates that we treat the people with respect, no matter where they should live,” the captain said without a hint of doubt. “It’s true that the previous Supreme Guardian sanctioned efforts to close off the underworld, but it was framed in the light that it would ensure the safety of the people on the surface. But it was wrong,”

Gepard sighed, feeling the weight of your words squeezing his chest. “It was my understanding that we were all just trying to survive the Eternal Freeze… but in any case, it would have been disrespectful to ignore Miss Natasha’s request to accompany you—,”

Okay, now that’s stretching it a bit, you blanched.

“—and let you go by yourself. In fact, Article 4, Section 5, Line 2 of the Silvermane Guard handbook states that—,” he blathered on. It honestly impressed you. You were helpless to do anything besides stare in disbelief as words poured from his mouth like a waterfall.

“But wh-what about the higher ups and the old folk? Won’t they get angry at you if they find out you’re hanging out with someone of my standing?” You jumped in the moment he stopped to take a breath.

“If people want to trouble themselves with our relationship, which is in fact, none of their business, I say we let them,” Gepard responded. “It is of no concern to me unless it affects you negatively. In which case, I would step in,”

He tightened his grasp on your leg. “I did not reach the station I am at by trying to please those types of meddling figures. Your background has never once concerned me, not even for a second,”

The captain locked eyes with you in such a way that you thought you’d evaporate if you averted your gaze, it was so intense.

“You are not some kind of vermin,” he proclaimed. “It pains me to see you talk about yourself like this. You are one of the Eversummer Florist’s most capable workers, and first and foremost— you are my friend,”

He finally clamped his mouth shut. Aeons, the man in front of you had no clue how much those words meant to you. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“I promise you, (Y/N). What people think will not come between us in the slightest. I will be your iron wall, whenever or wherever you may need me,” he vowed with every fiber in his body.

And that’s when tears came pouring down your face.

They streamed down your cheeks and soaked into the collar of your coat. Your body shook with sobs, your shoulders shuddering every time you drew in a breath.

It happened so fast that Gepard was completely at a loss. He stammered out a few words, horrified that he might have caused something, but all that came out were a mess of vowels.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Short cries escaped your throat that you tried to stifle with your hand, and you gripped your knees tightly, trying to still your shaking body. But it wouldn’t stop. Your chest felt tight, so tight.

“(Y/N),” Gepard said gently from his position on the cot. “(Y/N),” he called again.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered. “I’m here for you,”

All of those feelings flowed out of you like a dam had broken. He wove his thumb in circles around the fabric of your pants in a comforting gesture, easing your aching soul.

You grasped his hands suddenly with both of your own and held it to your cheek, letting the warmth of his skin through his glove calm you down. You nuzzled into the palm of his hand mournfully, tears continuing to trickle down your face, until they finally slowed to a stop, your cheeks and eyes still wet.

After the crying had subsided, leaving only the occasional hiccup, Gepard pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pant pocket and handed it to you. You blew into it loudly, giving him a congested apology afterwards.

You threw your head back to look up at the tent ceiling while blinking away any remaining tears. Willfully scrunching up your face, you let out a calming breath and returned to looking at the captain. He had a relieved look on his face.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay now. Thank you, Gepard,”

“It was the least I could do,” he said, placing his hand back down on the cot.

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “But it was more than enough,” you mustered up the best smile you could in order to reassure him.

“Um, about what you were saying earlier—,” you brought up. “If— if you say so. But the higher ups, would they withhold a promotion from you or because you were hanging out with me?”

He smiled gently at you, capturing your soul effortlessly with that simple motion. “I’m quite satisfied with being the captain of the Silvermane Guards, thank you. My deeds as a soldier stand as a testament to that,”

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your coat jacket. “Hah, I guess I was worried for nothing then,” you said with a hint of frustration. “How silly of me,”

Gepard reached up and patted your head reassuringly, causing your eyes to widen. “The fault isn’t all yours. I appreciate you being so considerate, but it’s not your job to protect me,”

He put such meaning into every word he said. Such an admirable way of life.

You swatted his hand away lightheartedly. “Yeah? Well, it’s not your job to protect me, then,” you sniffed. You stuck your tongue out at him as far as it would go, which elicited a short laugh from Gepard.

Aeons, that smiling face was priceless. You could just lean over and kiss him right on that cot.

The smile faded from your face, replaced with something else now. You reached over him and wiped some stray hairs from his face using your single clean glove, watching them fall back into place with a satisfied look.

As you were retracting your arm— much to your surprise— he gently lifted one of his hands and placed it to yours, palm-to-palm. His fingers were slightly bent, so they wrapped around to the back of your hand. A smile danced on your lips; your face and neck much warmer than previously.

You clasped your hand entirely around his, admiring his soft smile. It was so warm and dreamy, a rare ember in a world as cold and hard as Jarilo-VI— a planet so unlike its namesake.

Just when you were stroking the side of his hand with your thumb, you heard a deep rumble (or maybe it was more like a growl?) from your companion’s stomach region.

Gepard went as red as a tomato.

“Captain… I thought you said you didn’t need anything?” You squinted your eyes at him accusingly at the realization.

Gepard internally cursed himself.

Sighing, he said,

“…maybe some porridge will do, thank you,”

BONUS:

“Ugh,” you grunted. “C-captain, you’re heavy! Franz, can you help me get him up real quick?”

Lieutenant Hawthorne, who was walking by the tent at the time, heard shuffling and something that sounded like a grunt of protest from the captain.

“Truly, (Y/N). I can sit up by myse—,”

“NO,” exclaimed both your and Franz’s voices loudly. Hawthorne stopped in his tracks.

“May I at least hold the spoon?” Gepard pleaded. Hawthorne could see your silhouettes from the lantern light cast upon the tent’s walls. You had your hands on your hips as Franz held a bowl and a tray behind you.

You snorted. “In your dreams. I got you all banged up, so it’s my job to take care of you. If I leave you be, you’ll just overwork yourself until you pass out again!”

“May I remind you, that was but a singular instance when—,”

“Lalalalala!” You sang obnoxiously. “I can’t hear you!”

“(Y/N), I beg of you. I must maintain my dignity,” he implored one last time.

“Here comes the Astral Express!” Hawthorne heard you shout, completely overshadowing the captain.

The tent went silent for a moment.

“It’s good, right?” You asked after a short pause.

“…yes,”

Th lieutenant chuckled to himself and continued on his way.

BONUS 2: Belobog Central Hospital

“…and as long as you take care of yourself, you should be good to go in about two weeks,” said the head nurse to Gepard, who was just finishing up giving him the synopsis of his condition. “We’ll be monitoring your condition for the time being, okay? Head injuries are nothing to joke about,”

He agreed. The captain lay in a hospital bed with a neck brace and one leg elevated with a foam wedge, which, frankly, he thought was overkill, considering he was able to walk to the camp.

A vase of fake flowers lay on the bedside table. Gepard smiled to himself. You’d mutter under your breath and call it a waste of a good vase.

After half an hour, the pain medications they had given him finally kicked in, and he’d drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt about making you a rye bread soda iceberg, your eyes lighting up as he placed it in front of you. Maybe once winter came around, he’d make you a pie, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He snoozed softly, when suddenly he was awoken in the middle of the night by a scratching sound at the hospital window.

Gepard lifted his body as much as he could to get a better look, when he spotted the tops of two blonde heads along with a purple-haired one.

The tufted ears on Lynx’s hat wobbled. Serval’s blue eyes peered above the windowsill and they narrowed into crescents as she grinned. Meanwhile, Pela was looking around frantically, making sure no one spotted them.

His elder sister reached up with the multi-tool you had bought her, and fiddled with the lock. The latch came open with a clean pop. And true to her name, Serval slunk in gracefully, her heels clacking on the laminated floor.

“Hi, little bro,” she smirked. “Are visiting hours over?”

He looked at her incredulously. “I think you know the answer to that. Why else would you be breaking in?”

“Breaking in is a stretch,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, we’re visiting— just outside of the intended time!”

Gepard sighed. “I cannot believe you managed to drag the other two into this. What if you get caught?”

“Actually, it’s three,” your voice piped up. It came from somewhere under Pela. You spoke again. “And we won’t, I promise,”

The captain’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

That’s right. He was on the second floor.

Lynx hoisted herself up, and Pela began to follow suit.

“H-how?” He blurted. “How did you get in here?”

“There’s a dumpster out back that we used to elevate ourselves,” Pela said, not wavering in the slightest. “It could only hold about two people, so (Y/N) is currently holding me up,”

She hoisted herself entirely into the room and beckoned the others to come hoist you up. Gepard spotted one mitten, then the other. And then the rest of you came into view. And you were holding a basket with a blue silk ribbon tied to it.

“We brought you a gift basket!” You whisper yelled. Gepard’s face lit up like a spotlight at the sight of you.

You hopped over to his side and leaned over him with a smile, showing him the contents of the basket. “We’ve got flowers, and cookies, and— hey! Are those fake flowers?” You snapped your head towards the flowerpot indignantly.

You put the basket down and scoffed. “That’s a waste of a good damn vase if I’ve ever seen one,”

Whisking yourself towards the sin against botany, you yanked the faux flowers out and tossed them aside. Then you replaced them with a few stems of white tulips from your basket and filled the vase with water from the nearby sink.

Gepard smiled. You’d said it all almost word-for-word.

And so you stayed a while, talking well into the night. And you were all so tired that no one showed up to their jobs the next day.

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

[rusticahouse]

Mexican Kitchen Sinks

heart of the household lies in its kitchen—a space where traditions, flavors, and creativity blend seamlessly. At the center of this culinary haven stands a fixture that embodies both functionality and artistry: kitchen sink. A functional sink can be done from many materials that are eye-catching and comfortable such as our Mexican copper. Join us on a captivating journey through the vibrant…

[nhlclover]

bakeoff sparks fly au

✭ — summary: despite being back home for the holidays, sofia can't stop thinking about rutger

✭ — warnings: manic baking, overthinking

✭ — a/n: sofia is going through it

✭ — word count: 0.88k

This was the first time since the summer that all three Fantilli kids were back in Toronto, all sleeping under the same roof. Michigan was now on winter break and the 4 day holiday freeze was in effect in the NHL. It didn’t take long for the three siblings to fall back into their regular habits, playing board games whenever they got the chance, as well as heading to the ODR and playing unregulated games of hockey.

“Sof, you up?” Sofia heard Adam’s voice come through the door.

Despite being almost noon, Sofia was not up, using the break as a way to catch up on her sleep schedule. She groaned loudly, pulling her comforter over her head. She heard the door click open and her bedding ripped off her bed, exposing her body to the cold air.

“Adam!” She whined, grasping for her comforter.

“Luca and I are going shopping wanna come?” Adam asked, holding the bedding out of her grasp.

“Are you guys not done Christmas shopping yet?” Sofia asks

“I am, but Luca forgot a gift for Dad.” Adam tells her.

Sofia rolls her eyes. “No, I’m gonna stay in and wrap some presents.”

Adam drops her bedding, allowing Sofia to wrap herself in her blankets. “Text me if you need anything.” He says, leaving her room.

Sofia attempts to fall back to sleep but finds herself completely awake. She forced herself out of bed and headed downstairs to get breakfast.

It didn’t take long before the thought of him was back. The entire time Sofia had been home, memories of Rutger haunted her. Random reminders of him would come to mind, summoning the memories of her rejection. Her hands would begin to sweat, her heart beating at an unusual pace.

Every time she thought of him, she was reminded of the rejection. Because it wasn’t just a rejection. Rutger, at the same time, rejected Sofia and made her feel small. Like she was her brother's annoying little sister. Sofia hated how much he was occupying her mind.

When Luca and Adam come through the front door, they’re met with the strong smell of vanilla and loud music. Pulling off their shoes, they venture to the kitchen only to be met with chaos.

There are various ingredients scattered on the counters, with dishes stacked in the sink. In the middle of everything is Sofia, her pinstripe apron that was once a gift from Luca and Adam is covered in flour, her hair thrown up into a claw clip. Zach Bryan is blaring through her phone while she’s whipping something in a bowl.

“Sof!” Adam calls to her, finally drawing her attention as she hadn’t noticed they’d come home.

“Hey!” She grins.

Suddenly there’s a timer going off, sending Sofia to the oven. She puts on a pair of oven mitts, removing a tray of cookies from the oven.

The pair of brothers exchange a slightly worried look. They recognize this behaviour but it seems misplaced. Sofia has a habit of baking when she’s stressed or anxious. She baked during her high school exams and just before Adam was drafted. When she stress bakes, she goes HAM. She bakes four or five different things, from muffins to cookies, and often a type of bread.

However, to Luca and Adam, she had no reason to be stressed. She was done with exams and had gotten her marks back indicating a successful semester.

“Sof, what are you doing?” Luca asked.

“Baking!” Sofia smiles. “I’ve got shortbread cookies baking in the oven, some gingerbread cookies that I’m letting cool before frosting— ooh! You guys can help decorate if you want! And then the dough for cinnamon rolls is rising in the fridge.”

Sofia resumes her task of cutting out gingerbread men figures, singing aloud to ‘Revival’.

“What’s wrong with her?” Adam asks Luca, keeping his voice low so that Sofia wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure… she was fine yesterday.” Luca tells him.

The boys take off their coats, heading up to Adam’s room to wrap presents and figure out what’s wrong with Sofia.

“I have nothing, she was fine when we came home, she hasn’t baked or even cooked until today.” Luca told Adam.

Adam shook his head. Something was wrong with his sister. “What about at school? Did something happen?” He asked.

Luca thought back to Halloween. “Well…”

“Well, what? What happened?” Adam pried.

“It was just…at a Halloween party, this dude was harassing her but nothing happened. Rutger intervened and fucking almost fought the guy for her,” Luca explained. “But that was way back in October, it couldn’t still be bothering her.”

“Listen, dude, if she keeps this up after I’m gone, you need to talk to her.” Adam tells him.

“She won’t tell me, why don’t you ask her now?” Luca asked.

“C’mon, man. We both know which one of us she goes to when she’s upset.” Adam says.

Sure, Adam and Sofia were twins and often found solace in the other, however, Sofia always found that her older brother always knew what to say. Luca was the one she turned to whenever she needed advice or guidance. Adam was right, out of the two of them Luca was more likely to get any answers out of Sofia.

[kumezyzo]

more streamer!reader with bf!sapnap cause i so desperately need it and i promised to get out the christmas cooking stream...

i started writing this like two weeks ago and im just now getting it out cause im so good at procrastinating 😁 but its also kinda short mb

anyway, enjoy! or dont :) m.list

bf!sapnap that doesnt really listen to you when you tell him hes not doing something right. he will just look at you and forget that you scolded him in the first place.

"nick, you realize you cant put a metal bowl in a microwave, right?"

"huh?" he looks over at you. your face holding a concerned expression as you look at the bowl in his hands. hes silently just thinking about how you called him nick instead of sapnap.

"wait, HOW did you say microwave?"

bf!sapnap that has to remind people at the beginning of the stream that it was your one year anniversary last month. and your one year of being official meeting in person the past week.

bsf!george who randomly starts playful arguements with you. or even just teases you when you and nick are standing near eachother.

"wow, are you two gonna get married now?"

"i dunno, george. are you and dream gonna fuck soon?" you ask pointedly without looking up from the cookie your helping nick cut out. "or profess your undying love to eachother?"

bf!sapnap who would get really angry or sad if your embroidered gingerbread character on his apron got dirty.

"dream!! you got flour on yn!!" he would scream running to the sink to try to wash it off. you would be standing across the room, looking down at yourself in confusion

"your such an idot, sapnap," dream would tell him, shaking his head and laughing.

"oh...i thought you actually meant on me-"

and

"who the fuck got frosting on yn!?" he would scream again, stomping over to the sink to wash it off.

"baby, its orange..." you tell him, glancing at george and dream from across the island, trying to hide your smile.

"and?"

"youre the only one using orange..."

bf!sapnap who feels bad when you start running around, trying to clean up the mess they made from decorating the cookies.

"yn, just leave it."

"no, its fine," you tell him with a smile. "i need a clean working space."

"but-"

"nick, let me clean."

dream kinda helps dw

bsf!dream who accidentally bumps into you, causing you to turn around and pretend to square up to him.

"come at me bro!" you say, looking up at him and standing in front of him.

he looks down at you and puffs out his chest and flexes his arms. you do the same and squint your eyes up at him.

"what? got nothin to say?!"

he then lightly pushes your shoulder and you dramatically stumble backwards. you place your hand on your 'wounded' shoulder and look at him in betrayal.

"h-how could you...?"

"you guys are so stupid-"

bf!sapnap who holds your waist when hes has to get past you. or just reaches out to touch your hip if there is space to walk by. or lightly pats your ass when he walks away from standing next to you.

"chat is saying sapnap slapped yn's bum," george says in disgust covered by an accusatory lilt.

"i dont know what theyre talking about," nick says, a smile slowly spreading on his lips.

"wait, chat, is that true?"

"i bet he did," dream comments, ammused.

"wait they're saying he did!"

bf!sapnap who says the gingerbread house he's making is what you two are gonna raise your kids in.

"peaches, this is our house."

"our? as in you and i?" you ask looking at the mess of cookies and frosting.

"and these are our kids..." he says concentrating on putting two m&ms on the front lawn of the sugary house.

"wait, kids-"

chat! who asks about why nick calls you peaches.

"yeah, thats an amazing questions, actually," george says, looking up at you two.

the two of you glance at eachother before looking back down at your gingerbread houses.

"wait, what was that look?" dream asks with a laugh.

"i dunno. nick, you tell them," you say trying to keep your face neutral. "im not the one that came up with it."

"wait, nick, dont you also call her mamas?"

"dream, shut the-"

bf!sapnap who hugs you from behind when he sees how sleep youre starting to get.

"are you tired, ma?" he whispers in your ear.

"no... im good," you say, smiling with drowsy eyes.

he kisses the side of your head and gives your hip a little tap before moving to stand with dream.

i actually kinda like this one. i mightve made reader too much like me so im sorry... yea idk i like it so... yeaa...... comment, like, reblog idfk -Nony