#at least they make me cracked at salmon run

[mosspodge]

did you now? the shanty "Dead Horse" implies all horses go to Hell!

[bibyvariable]

Salmon Run

A HEFTY VOICE MESSAGE FROM LOUISE CARRIGAN TO HER WIFE, ANNE DAVIS, FALL 17770.

Immortality’s a funny thing. I think—I think I forgot how to struggle. Before us, I mean. You know, back home in Alaska. Yeah, of course there was always some kinda crap, but mostly it was the same stuff day-in-day-out. I’d go to work in the morning and leave work in the afternoon. My job was important, sure, but I’d been doing it so long it just felt like busywork. The day I got my position, though, it felt good. That was what, almost sixteen thousand years ago? Way before we met...

Isn’t that crazy? I lived almost a hundred and sixty lifetimes before I met you.

It definitely didn’t feel like it.

Anyways, on with the message—sorry, this one’s gonna be a devil to listen to. Tell your brother I say hi, by the way! I’m only about 9 hours to Asheville now. Might be a tad more, ‘cause the truck tire just popped. You know, it was just some nail lying about on the road. And the thing is, the roads here are real nice!

ANYWAYS, for real this time, I was finally doing something to give back to the environment. Lord, we really fucked everything up. When I took the job, the chinook runs were really bad. I mean, so many of those salmon were dying during the run or before the run and it was just hell at the fishery. It got better, of course. It all got better, but then there wasn’t this constant stress anymore. After a while they were fine. Still needed management, but it wasn’t as crazy as it used to be. No more fighting with the fishermen ‘cause they didn’t live off of it, you know. Most of the people who fished then were just hobbyists and families—didn’t need much management then. So I went to work and I picked up any book I had lying around the house. This was before I went to college for the first time, so it was just everything I had from high school.

So I started reading Catcher in the Rye, you know, with Holden Caulfield and that hunting hat of his? And I was reading it at work and he said something that kinda snapped me out of everything. He said, “mothers are all slightly insane.” And you know what, that really got me thinking. My mom had been gone a while and I’d been at peace with it a while, too. There were hard days and there will always be hard days, but what I really missed was something she used to do when I was in high school. You know how much of a shit I was then, I took nothing seriously, and you know, she’d always tell me, “God’s watching, Louise.” It wasn’t in too serious a tone, but man, she said it all the damn time. And whenever I fumble one of your absolute dimes, I hear her in my head, going “God’s watching, Louise.” And she had that real thick Appalachian accent too—if you thought mine was bad, you shoulda met her. And I’d tell her right back, “Oh I know he’s watching. Bet he’s cracking up watching me stumble ‘cross the field.”

Anyways, back then when I worked at the fishery, I never did anything that would make her say that. Nothing that was crucial—you know, critical, in-the-moment stuff that God would wanna be watching. I had so much time there. I still have so much time here. And so one day I went out to one of the rivers and I looked at all the salmon, swimming upstream and strugglin’ forever against the current. And I said to myself, I wanna do that. I wanna feel anxious again. I wanna be embarrassed again. I want to trip over my own shoelaces in the middle of the big game.

And it’s kinda funny, cause after that happens, you’re like, “good Lord Above, I never wanna experience that ever again.” But it’s a lie, cause when things get too good, then they’re not good anymore, you know? And I guess that why we do it. Why I keep going back to college even though school’s always my least favorite thing in the whole wide world. And why I keep trying new sports even though the only one I’m good at is that damned football. Hey, I mean, hockey’s fun, but Christ am I a crap skater.

And I guess most important, it’s how I met you—Lord do I remember that! Spillin’ my water and all that fuss. Damn near our whole relationship was swimming upstream, you know that? But shit if it wasn’t worth it. Everything was worth it. I mean, I’ll probably use that radiochemistry knowledge somewhere…

Well, I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. I was just thinking and didn’t want to forget anything. But now I’m rambling again. Sorry bout that. Now this thing’s gonna be like an hour long. I’ve gotta quit while I’m ahead. Love you, babe. See you tomorrow.

[madsmilfelsen]

I think Rust is neat and all but what drew me in was his HANDS. Idk how to explain it, but something about the way he holds things and articulates makes me just. Stare at them. Like I just Know he has rough hands

alright babe, you want to talk about his hands, let’s talk about his hands via timeline

Obviously living in the bush of Alaska requires a lot of manual labor to survive, skin rubbing raw inside leather gloves, blisters from splitting wood, scars from his knife slipping on salmon (v real, I used to filet 500 salmon a summer and baby…. yew, my left hand has gotten nicked more than once— Travis and Rust had a fish camp on the Copper River, probably across the bridge from Chitna and a touch north, and lived way up river between Slana and Nabesna bc I’m making all this up right now and I said so) etc etc so his hands well worn before he got out, moved back to Texas and meets Claire snared by his weirdo allure and bizarre way of handling things— Sophia comes along and I bet he was washing his hands like a maniac, dry as fuck, probably worried his rough hands might make her fussy so held her with her little swaddling blankets at first (compensated with A LOT of skin to skin time but that’s a different ask), carefully petting her hair with just the tips of his fingers, down the bridge of her nose to make her go to sleep. Sophia loved his hands (like mother like daughter fr) could be occupied when he took her fishing by just letting her sit in his lap to play with his fingers, try on his wedding ring, ask why his nails are shorter than mommy’s or why they aren’t soft like mommy’s, map his calluses, trace the lines of his palms until he set a hook and watched him reel in dinner.

(Addition) hol up, hear me out— Sophia rooting around his bare chest and pacified with the curl of his knuckle, Sophia teething and gnawing on his fingers, Sophia learning to walk with her soft pudgy hands in his, Sophia squealing and giggling as he tickles her round lil tummy, Sophia’s only sitting still to get her hair brushed but only for daddy— Rust’s hands becoming the most abused part of his body after she’s gone

Crash era— this man does not give a shit about his hands, the most treatment they get is when he taped them together after breaking a finger, had a punching bag for obvious reasons and beat the shit out of it no gloves no tape constantly bruised. Not a stranger to working with mechanics (in Alaska, Travis would make sure he could keep his equipment running— boat engines, four wheeler oil changes, changing snow mobile tracks etc) and probably took his bike apart and put it back together just to make sure he could be Authentic, different calluses with new tools, divots in his skin lost to the unforgiving scraping bite of metal, hissing when he gets transmission fluid in his split knuckles

1995– habitual hand washing returns, dry as hell, his wrists probably crack and bleed in the winter (very very very rarely is annoyed enough to actual do something about it, probably had to bleed on one of his files— he’d use Johnson and Johnson baby lotion becuase that’s he only shit he knew, definitely drunk cried about it at least once, before sucking it up and swtiching to Vaseline), pull up bars give calluses at the base of the fingers/tops of the palms, just does calisthenics because who the fuck wants to buy equipment. Does all the upkeep on his truck (and thinking about it, this would be the first time he’d be like Alone alone in a long while, no handlers, no Iron Crusaders, no backstory upkeep, no dad, no wife, probably takes truck parts inside and cleans them on his kitchen counter because no one is there to say what the fuck are you doing— “we don’t mind being alone” okay Okay sure honey) Makes it worse by the talcum powder in his rubber gloves or licking his fingers to go through case files or staying too long in the dry archives where he can’t smoke so probably tapping his mouth, rubbing circles on his knuckles with his thumb or running it along his nails— don’t know what flavor of adhd that man has a strangle hold on but he can’t sit entirely still, fingers moving with the bits of his mind that aren’t occupied to keep himself from distraction, pretending he didn’t lose his patience with his fatherhood.

2002– Laurie :) home girl said that’s enough! Probably got recommendations from surgeons and plys him tins of hand salve, he doesn’t like the greasy feeling, but his girl is askin’ he won’t say no babey!

2012– full circle, back to them Alaskan fishing boat hands, type of hands that snag fabric (my husband isn’t a mechanic but does work with his hands and I can’t wear silk around him) and hair gets caught on, the man does not own a brush, finger combs his hair once a week and puts that shit in a hair tie, done with it.

[noffy96]

Whoo finished another Cygni(ServantSun) / Eclipse story. This time...we talk about Cygni's Moon, how is that gonna go

Moons, Memories and Breakdowns

Chapter 1

Word count: 4,486

Status: complete

Summary:

Feeling like he might be pushing too hard, he decided to just offer some comfort instead.

“ It's alright, want me to bring you so-”

“I remembered my Moon”

Cygni's voice cut through his own, static interference made it hard to make out. But once the words registered he was left stunned.

It had been the last thing he expected to hear.

Or

Cygni has remembered his Moon, But it comes with a whole bunch of complicated feelings. One of which is the uncertainty if this Memory is even real. What will they find as they look at the data of the memory?

Read it on AO3

or read down below

As he approached the bunker door he took out a piece of salmon. Looking around for the grey furry brat. The fact at he had to buy this stuff just to keep that angry furball from clawing his ankles off annoyed him to no end.

He had no idea how Cygni walked past him without any problems. A branch made a crack above him. So before he could be pounced on he threw the thin piece of meat up. It was suddenly snatched out of mid-air.

With a great thud, the cat landed. Hissing at him before taking off. He tracked its movement until he saw the cat carefully start eating his new treat a couple of trees down.

Good at least the menace ate what was brought to him.

He stepped in with a heavy sigh. Glad to be fucking home. He had nothing to show for his efforts today. Seems that Moon had figured out someone had been stealing from his other lab and shut it down. Well, at least he had no clue where they were still.

He had no desire to become homeless, he had been setting money aside for when the time eventually came. He had started with nothing. As far as he was concerned Moon owned him and if he didn't notice, he didn't miss it.

He walked through the concrete hallways, past the sleeping chambers towards their ‘living room’. It had initially been just a communal space. A kitchen, a large table with some chairs on one side. On the other a comfy couch, with a bookshelf, a coffee table and a small TV.

With Cygni the room had changed somewhat. There were now a couple of comfortable rugs. A vase on the dinner table. Some little bits and bots from projects Cygni and him had done together over the last couple of months.

Some people might call it sparse but it has become a home. He was about to greet his friend only to pause in the doorway.

Cygni was sitting at the dinner table. Several pieces of colourful glass scattered all around him. Glasswork had been the newest hobby his friend wanted to try his hand at.

But Cygni sat very still. Arms resting on the table, head tilted down, the glow of his eyes dim in the dark room. The only sound is the drip of the faucet

“Cygni?”

The other bot didn't react. For a second he wondered if Cygni had forgotten to charge and had run out of battery. Before shaking that thought away.

He slowly made his way towards him. Growing more worried as no movement came. When he was about halfway. The dark streaks on his friend's face became obvious and he rushed over. Wondering what the fuck made his best friend cry

“Cygni? What's going on?”

Cygni still didn't turn to him. His eyes were unmoving as he silently cried. There were tiny pools of oil on the table. He must have been crying for a while.

Careful as to hopefully not startle his friend, he gently placed his hand on Cygni’s wrist.

There was a blink…then two. Soft gentle metallic clicks with the dripping sounds of tears.

His fingers gently encircled the wrist. Feeling some paint flake off in the process. Seems that Cygni had been peeling at his paint again.

The yellow rings of his friend's eyes snapped up. Resting on their hands. There was a burst of static coming from his voice box. The sound of it resetting before shakingly, half broken.

“Clipse? “

Careful of the claws that wanted to come out and protect his friend from whatever had made him so upset, he tightened his hold.

“Right here.”

He tugged the hand of the table. Grabbing one of the other chairs with his other hand. Bringing it closer with a loud screech against the floor so he could sit facing his friends as he rested their hands on his knee.

Cygni half turned. Gaze following their hands. His friend's hands twitched against the fabric before holding onto it tightly.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

He asked as softly as he could. Still trying to keep the worry and anger out of his voice. It had been a long while since he saw Cygni this upset. He had learned very quickly that being angry could cause his friend to spiral faster.

It was always hard, fighting against every instinct he had to stay calm in moments like this. But Cygni needed him. He couldn't help if he didn't know.

There was a tiny shake of the head. He saw the furrow in Cygni's brow grow as his black tears hit his pants. The black splotches seeped into the fabric. His chest thumped at the cute reaction before snarling at it internally as this was not the time. Reaching his other hand out to gently, so fucking gently as he could. Take hold of his friend's face so he’d face him instead of down.

“That's good…glad you are not hurt…Do you think you could tell me what upset you so much?”

Cygni’s eyes landed on his, then his frame started to tremble. He wanted to drag the other out of his chair and into a hug. But he didn't dare. As likely he had a flashback to his lord, so he could potentially make it worse by making any sudden movements.

There were some bursts of static as Cygni squeezed his eyes shut. He encouragingly stroked his finger on the inside of his wrist. Willing to sit here as long as needed. Fully aware that Cygni was likely not able to tell him what was wrong. Not while being clearly so tortured by whatever memory had come for him.

But it added a tally mark to the list of things he was gonna do to his friend's former lord if he ever saw him.

He would suffer for all the pain he made Cygni go through.

“I…I…”

More tears left Cygni’s eyes. He dropped his hand from his faceplate to his shoulder to softly squeeze. His own hatred broke away in the face of his best friend's sorrow. Cygni leaned into the touch almost desperately.

Feeling like he might be pushing too hard, he decided to just offer some comfort instead.

“ It's alright, want me to bring you so-”

“I remembered my Moon”

Cygni's voice cut through his own, static interference made it hard to make out. But once the words registered he was left stunned.

It had been the last thing he expected to hear.

Cygni opened his eyes again, more tears spilling out. Rays shaking in their housings.

“I mean…I knew he must have existed ... but seeing him…knowing there was someone…it’s such a difference Eclipse. I just recognised him, but…but I know nothing about him. There is part of me that’s scared that it isn’t real…that this isn’t…my Moon. It could be a different Moon. But...how would I know…I just”

Cygni's voice broke down further and further until it shut down again. His free hand pressed against his mouth as he tried to keep silent. He let go of Cygni’s hand to gently rub his friend's arms up and down. Trying to find some words to calm him.

“I…am..not sure how to…” He trailed off before changing the question “…what is it exactly that you are remembering, could you tell me?”

Cygni nodded his head, clearly forcing his tears to slow as he lowered his hand.

“It’s just…just an image…of him smiling at me. A single picture. But I hadn’t had something this clear of him…ever…I was just…just picking up some pieces of glass thinking about the colour seemed familiar…and “

He waved his arm around a little, and he squeezed his friend's arms gently in understanding.

“I...I can look at the data for the picture for you. See when it was taken…if it’s about as old as your oldest memories…I think we can safely say it’s your Moon”

Cygni's eyes widened further.

“You would do that for me? Really?”

He gave a nod, and suddenly he was tackled in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…please…yes...I just...I gotta know”

The chair had wobbled dangerously under the force of the tackle and he managed to keep them both upright, as he kinda awkwardly petted Cygni’s back at the same time.

Cygni pulled back and from his eyes, he could tell that he was opening his email to send the file, but then his smile turned into a frown.

“It says I can’t send the file…that it doesn’t support the file type?”

He gave a confused look in return.

“We have that shared Dropbox…can you put it in there?”

Cygni sat still for a moment before shaking his head, as tears started to flow again.

“Hey...hey no...it’s okay…don’t panic…I could…I could connect to you directly…and look at it that way…You’ll…you’ll just have to guide me to the file, I promise not to look at anything else.“

“Pinky promise”

He tried his best not to snort and held out his hand pinky outstretched.

“Yeah pinky promise”

His mechanical heart skipped a beat as Cygni shakinly connected it with his own.

“O-okay…I trust you…”

He gave what was hopefully a comforting gentle pass over Cygni’s rays.

“Go sit on the couch and get comfortable, I’ll find a cable in my lab for us to connect with.”

Cygni nodded and stood up shakingly, he watched him for a second, making sure he was doing okay before turning around and going to his lab.

When he returned Cygni was sitting in the corner of the couch, Fingers picking at the paint of his arms, the tears had slowed down, but still, an occasional drop left his eyes, rolling down the paths made by the previous tears. His sleeve had a few dark stains that he must have gotten by wiping at his eyes.

He thought about doing the laundry later so Cygni wouldn’t have to deal with the stains, and take that off his mind when they were done as he carefully sat down next to him.

“You sure you okay with this?”

Cygni let out a hum as he nodded. He was about to ask if he was sure When Cygni squared his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye

“I have to know S-Eclipse”

His friend's eyes widened at the almost slip-up, but he didn’t mention it.

“Could you open your arm panel?”

The other hesitated for a small moment before rolling up his left sleeve, He tried to keep from reacting to see that the peeled paint was up to his elbows.

“I…had locked my arms to the table…before you came in…I…I think I might have scratched the casing with my claws…I…been sitting here a while…”

He gently took hold of his best friend's wrist again bringing the arm over to his lap, gently tracing the metal with his other hand, not minding the flaked paint.

“I’ve told you before…you don’t need to justify your soothing methods. Sun still pulls at his rays, and trust me, it is grounding yet hurtful…I tend to want to fight stuff, which is honestly much worse. “

There was a soft chuckle.

“That’s not true…”

He raised an eyebrow at his friend, who despite the tears still running down his face smiled gently.

“You don’t fight when you're anxious…scared…sure..but anxious? You tend to cross your arms and tap your claws at your upper arms…like... You are reminding yourself where they are? But also like you’re hugging yourself, but aren’t if that makes sense”

His heart thumped with the realisation that his friend was right, glow coming on with a click. Cygni’s soft smile turned into a nervous one, glow clicking on as well.

“I…what I meant to say…um not that I think…”

When he fought to get his glow back under control, Cygni kept on starting and stopping sentences. He let out a coughing sound that made the other's mouth click shut.

“Let’s just…get us connected”

He finished gruffly, and there was an awkward laugh coming from his friend, as the panel in his arm opened up. He carefully plugged in the cable and pretended not to notice the slight quiver in his friend's breath. Only stopping once the cable was above his own port, glancing up to meet Cygni’s nervous eyes.

The tears had slowed down, but still, an occasional drop landed on Cygni’s brown pants. The whole time the tears had been silent, not a sob or a heave. He never knew how to feel about the fact that he cried so silently.

He got a determined nod and plugged the other end into his arm. He closed his eyes to focus, sending a request to access Cygni’s systems. He wasn’t gonna go into his head, as much as he loved him, he wasn’t risking getting trapped. This was just a bit more direct than plugging into a computer…and like this…no fear of anyone spying.

The acceptance came through, his vision filling with lines of code and folders as far as he could see. That had always been a thing, there seemed to be a lot more stored in Cygni’s mind than should be possible for their memory.

He wondered if it was because he had gained sentience and it saved differently, or it was the amount of star power that just ... had warped how memory chips should work. But the thing was…Cygni couldn’t seem to access most of it…not perceive it in the same way.

It is like seeing an icon on your desktop but the second you hover your mouse over it, it disappears. Like privileges suddenly revoked or held back. He followed a familiar tug scrolling through files, until somewhere in the middle they stopped .

He hovered over the file, selecting it but not opening it. There was a soft chirp coming from the body next to him. Seeing code change from the corner of his eye as the emotions fell over his friend, but he didn’t look, not trying to invade his privacy more than he was.

“This one?”

It was silent for a while before he gave a sigh.

“I need you to speak up…can’t see if you nodded or not…I am concentrating on not accidentally looking at more than I should. “

“Yeah…it’s the correct one”

“Thanks”

With that he got to work, opening the files’ properties.

The file type was not something he ever had come across…he wondered if it was because it was old, or maybe because of the change of dimensions. But it was not what he should be looking for.

Quickly looking for the creation date...He frowned, the string of numbers was just reading as all zeros, which meant either the day wasn’t set…or…couldn’t be read.

But then He noticed the file name ....Likely not something Cygni had done…as the image must have appeared opened in his mind.

It said Copy of HSM 0812-16121973

………Copy…….

… This image was a copy…

But a copy from where?

He looked through the metadata of the file again but it could tell him nothing more. Not on its own….he would need to compare it to something.

“Cygni…”

His voice must have sounded off because he could feel the way the mood sank.

“I-it’s…it’s not him right?”

It sounded so broken…but he didn’t wanna lie. His hand went to search and interlock with Cygni’s as he tried to give comfort.

“...the image is a copy…that’s all I know…but I don’t know from when…Do…do you have any other images from when you were in your old dimension? Once you are sure you took and not a copy…and maybe one you took here as well. I might get some more information out of your name filing system.”

He felt the hand in his own tighten,

“I…I do…but…but i really….they are not…..I don’t want you to-”

He quickly cut off his friend to reassure him.

“I don’t have to open them to see the data ... .i haven’t opened the one of your Moon either. “

“....you…haven’t?”

He shook his head lightly, to be honest, it was partly because he would likely get jealous at seeing a Moon smile at Cygni. Especially one filled with love…no matter what kind it was.

“You can watch me the entire time…even look through what I am seeing to make sure…the feedback on that will feel weird…but you’d be sure…we can test with the picture you took here…so you know how it will work”

He felt Cygni shift on the couch.

“Yes…yes please…i’d…yes”

He nodded slightly and then slowly worked his friend through how to watch along with what he was doing so that he could see what he saw and did, it was a bit disorientating for the both of them. But they managed and he was able to look at the other two files. Luckily neither of them where corrupted and the date seemed to be intact on both of them.

He compared the names as he opened all three tabs.

HSM 0812-16121973 for the Moon one.

PNG1607-30012025 for the current picture.

Lastly, the picture of Cygni’s home dimension was named. PNG 0812-1512422.

The first thing he could tell was that the numbers at the beginning of the photos taken in the same dimension were the same. Like some dimensional code had attached themselves to the data. Also, he hadn’t ever heard of the file type HSM no wonder neither of them could send them. He was curious how Cygni was able to open them

The other numbers….they looked like dates. As he checked it seemed the file name seemed to match up with the creation date in the metadata. But…if that was true.

“I think…I found something”

“....I…I am not gonna like this….am I?”

He shifted his hands to take a firmer hold of his friends.

“Good news or bad news first?”

“Good…please…I can..use some good”

“If I am reading the date right…this is one of the oldest files you have shown me….so this is likely your Moon”

Through the files and code on his HUD he saw Cygni slump relieved, tears now more of relief than sadness running down his face.

“That’s…oh that’s..thank you … but then…what’s the bad news”

He frowned as he gently backed out of his friend's systems so he could look at him fully.

“The date on it…is about two hundred years older than the oldest file I find when we do a scan for your check-ups”

Cygni’s eyes widened.

“T-two…two hundred…”

He watched the dawning realisation come over his friend's face…everything else in the data had been the same… besides the file being a copy and file type. Everything had told him, it was a picture that Cygni had taken…

His friend's shaking got worse as more tears fell from his eyes

“I…I knew…he had deleted some memories...I have gaps of months that are just gone…and I know there's should have been more of before I was made his servant…but…so.long”

He gently rubbed the inside of his best friend's wrist. Trying to be soothing, as he took the cable out of their arms.

“Was this image just missed because it is a copy? Is this…is this all I have of him? I don't even know what we were. Friends? Brothers? More than that? Did my Moon even like me?.”

The drawing horror was painful to see. His heart clenched and longed to do something to make it right...to reassure. But there was nothing. He couldn't restore deleted memories. Not without something like the star. Even then it might not work

Cygni had let go of his hand to press it against his teeth. His own hand now fluttered around unsure of what to do. It seemed Cygni had temporarily forgotten he was even there.

Then an odd sort of breath left his friend and the hand pressed against his mouth even harder. Realising what he was doing he gently wrapped his hands around Cygni's forearms. The silently crying bot began to shake more as he tried to encourage them back down.

“Hey…hey don't do that…don't force yourself to be quiet. Don't let that lord steal the full extent of your grief. He won't hear you here.”

The fact that Cygni still had oil left over to cry with was a surprise. Those grief-stricken optics met his own..the off-white was now almost grey from the black oil.

Slowly he held out his arms

“Want a hug, Dusty?”

There was no answer. One second he was being stared at with a crushing sadness yet hope. The other thin arms were clutching at his back desperately as Cygni's head plate was painfully shoved into his shoulder

He closed his own arms around his back quickly. Holding him tightly but firmly. As if he could hold the broken pieces of his best friend together.

Cygni's voice was broken and static-filled. He tilted his faceplate against the side of his friends gently..letting their rays rub together in something that was hopefully soothing. As Cygni started to speak through an increasingly glitching voice box.

“What did We do to him to deserve this? Why did he take everything?… Am I even still the same person? Would my Moon even recognise me if he was still around? Did my lord kill him? Torture him. Had me turned off and stored away and tortured him for years, before moving on to me? ”

He had no answers to any of those questions. He knew what he would have done if he got the star. He would have killed Moon, for everything he had been put through. Would he have reset Sun and kept him around as well? There is a part of him that screams NO.

Yet he wasn't sure, his hatred at the time had been more a blind rage. Not willing to look at it too closely. That version of himself would have torn his own head off before willingly spending any sort of time with Sun and Moon.

Let alone save a different Sun.

But Cygni’s endless words didn't stop. Like a dam was broken. More worries and fears seemed to spill out of the trembling bot

“He is gonna do it again if he finds me…he is gonna make me forget you…and Sun. All of this, the time we spend together. The progress I’ve made…Until I am nothing more than a servant once more and he will be the only thing in my life. He’ll take away everything... I am so scared of that Eclipse. I don't wanna lose you…I don't want to forget.“

The hands around his back had started to cling to his skyhook desperately. Their casings creaked dangerously with how tight he was holding him back.

“I won't let him get to you. Never fucking again you hear me. I’ll keep you safe. And if by some method he does manage to make you forget. I will fight tooth and fucking nail to make you remember. If you can't I am gonna befriend you all fucking over again. You hear me. You will never be alone again. Not on my watch”

There was a tiny shake of the head.

“.. don't….don't risk yourself…for someone that can't remember you. Please don't get hurt. “

He growled

“Sorry…I can't promise that. Knowing what he does to you. I can't stand by idly. Would you?”

There was another shake of the head. As gently as he could he nuzzled against the stiff rays of the crying sun model.

There was a soft sob. Barely there so he pressed a little closer. Let Cygni further hide against him.

“Then that is that. We fight together to keep it from happening then okay. You're NOT alone anymore. “

Another sob spilled from Cygni quiet and broken. Then another. And another. Like drops from an ancient faucet slowly dripping out.

“It's okay. I Have you… let it all out”

And Cygni did. Slowly. Starting from quiet barely there sobs and whimpers. To shaky breaths and clinging hands. To harsh breaths and ugly sobs, At the end of it all, he was downright wailing against his chest.

Broken in a way he never heard anyone cry. Barely holding on. Just lost in a grief built on so many hundreds of years. Where he had been holding back the full force of his fears and sorrows. Finally spilling out in this ugly devastating cry. Now that he was finally free and safe to do so.

He held him through it all. Kept whispering promises. Reassures, declarations of how proud he was. That he was loved. By him, his friends And if he would still be alive, his Moon.

His own heart throbbed painfully with every sob. Yet something he would come to look at more closely later. So grateful that Cygni trusted him to keep him safe, trusted him to see him like this, breaking in a way that no one else likely had.

Eventually, the voice box stopped as it clicked on to safe mode from overheating. Cygni’s oil reserve finally ran out. But he still shuddered and cried. Frame squeaking with the lack of oil.

Until hours later, hands fell from his hook. Body slumping exhausted against him.

He pulled back, looking into dim, tired eyes that stared at him exhausted. Scared yet grateful. He let his fingers run over the tips of the rays poking out of his faceplate. Not caring about the few tears that had escaped his own eyes during all of this

Then without thinking, he places a tender kiss against his forehead. Not even fuelled by his crush. Just the aching need to give comfort. Something he would have liked when he had been so alone and trapped.

“Rest, Dusty. I got you”

His eyelids fluttered, and his heart skipped a beat at the gentle smile he got in return. Cygni’s voice box clicked on but it was a little raspy from overuse, set to its lowest volume.

But he could still hear.

“I’m glad you are my best friend Eclipse…love you”

His hands tighten as Cygni's eyes fall shut

“Yeah…love you too”

The smile he got was warm before Cygni passed out.

“So much more than You realise…”

[bloomblanche]

＊✿ It's Melly!! ✿＊

I just realized that I haven't talked about her much on my blog. Time to fix that.

(Text cut for aesthetic purposes)

Bear in mind that she kinda evolved from "splatsona" to "OC who shares a lot of things with me (but not everything!) and still represents me sometimes but is mostly her own character now"

❥ Mélusine (full name Mélusine Larchipel) is 20 years old and goes by she/her. Her height is 166 cm, aka 5'5. She's autistic and pansexual.

❥ She's all academics, no street smarts. She's rather shy, overly polite, and has trouble voicing her opinions (as well as socializing in general). Her enthusiasm and eccentricities regularly slip through the cracks of her demure appearance.

❥ Melly moved to Inkadia around 10 years ago (making her multilingual as a result), but she still hasn't gotten used to everything because she would mostly spend her time inside without interacting much with other people. She's only recently started to open up, and she uses ink sports and tableturf as a way to do so.

❥ Her mom is a surface Octoling, but her dad is a Cirraling (which is my fan species of cirrate octopuses). That makes her half-grimpoteuthis! The reason why it matters is that the top design isn't her true appearance. The bottom one is what she looks like all-natural.

(Older drawings for comparison)

❥ Due to the biological differences of cirrate octopuses, her chromatophores and her ink sac are a bit underdeveloped. It takes roughly 15 minutes of light exposure for her chromatophores to be able to change colour and roughly 30 minutes in darkness for her to revert back to her natural colour.

❥ She's a bit insecure about her differences, so that's why she disguises herself as a regular Octoling. In fact, her hairstyle is meant to make her ears look smaller since she would get teased for them as a kid.

❥ This character is pretty much a metaphor for masking, when you think about it

❥ Now! Being part-dumbo has its perks, such as better night vision, but it also has its downsides. Remember when I said that her ink sac was underdeveloped? Because of that, she has to focus almost all of her gear abilities into ink saving.

❥ And that combined with her being unable to play anything other than brushes means that Melly REALLY sucks at Salmon Run. She sucks so much that her teammates kept complaining, and she ended up getting kicked out of Grizz Co. She doesn't mind it too much, though, because she's happy earning money with turf war and sewing. Not to mention that the whole business looks really shady anyway.

❥ Going back to brush weapons! Melly has a weird obsession with them. She owns all of the available ones on the market and will only listen to Sheldon's rambles if they're about brush weapons (if they aren't, she will immediately zone out)

❥ She's named Mélusine after the fairy from the eponymous myth. Mélusine is a spirit of fresh water who was cursed to become a serpent from the waist down every Saturday. So! Not only does it have a water theme, but it reflects her appearance-changing deal. She likes her full name, and her family uses it on a regular basis. The reason why she mostly goes by "Melly" is because it's easier for her friends to pronounce.

❥ Her favourite band is Chirpy Chips, and her favourite song from them is Shellfie. She's also a big fan of Raian (guess where that came from) and has a celebrity crush on them.

❥ Her favourite show and videogame are called "Magical Mumi Uni-chan" and "Coral Village 2" respectively.

❥ She loves blueberry pies and hates walnuts for their dry aftertaste (macadamia nuts are more up her alley)

❥ She developed emetophobia as a kid after a severe bout of salmonella.

❥ She really likes flowers as well as lolita fashion and does sewing as a hobby.

❥ While not visible in this drawing, she has some webbing between her fingers (which are tainted purple)

❥ Her shoes are punk whites with ruffle socks.

❥ And last but not least: Melly is based on this specific octopus! She's also very interested in the deep sea and likes to search for books about it.

Thank you for your interest!!

Here are some silly gifs

[grandpa-cephalopods]

Well it was a good finalfest this one, I'm glad team grandpas won this time. It's like an echo of the original Past vs Future, lol.

Unprofreshional Splat 3 nagging incoming, but first, I'll link my other stuff for anyone that stumbles on this blog.

-

Main Blog: @thegoldendoorknob

Twitter: Petitemask

Deviantart: Chibilightsage

OC Comic: Wishway

Comic Askblog: @wishwaycrew

-

First off- unfinished plotlines.

Had plans to elaborate more on Salmonid lore. In this verse, the apocalypse was partially mass natural destruction, and part zombie apocalypse via the Salmonids. Jones was originally a regular salmonid that was tested in a research lab before escaping and starting the whole death-of-humanity thing.

Also, there was a surviving human moonbase where the rich and famous lived. They gradually replaced parts of their bodies with mechanical parts to live longer than usual, but it took an expected toll on their sanity. That's what I was going to connect the Side Order plot to, initially.

T going evil for a bit bc of the aforementioned Jones thing.

I have a very write-as-I-go mentality with ask blogs so I could go to and from these kinds of ideas, but those were some of the core ones.

-

Ok long rant time sorry

So I've ran 2 other ask blogs in the past, and I came to recognize one of the things that can keep me in a fandom for over 7 years like Splatoon is engaging with the game itself. It's one thing to just scroll through the wiki pages 10 times over, but actually playing the games is what gives them so much staying power. Not only does it let me theorize about all the loose ends stated in the plot, but I can consider the fun and technicalities of how the gameplay can tie-in with the plot.

If I didn't play the games, I wouldn't be coming up with ideas like the Respawn March, Ink Eggs, Cuttlefish making zapfish doll batteries on repeat levels, the tentacle amps in Octavio's arena being another Octoweapon, human reanimation, moon colonies...

All of that wouldn't happen if I just read the wiki and called it a day. And that's why it kind of pains me to say Splatoon 3 just.. didn't give me any lasting material to work with. I did like deep cut (especially Frye) but they showed up like.. a whopping 2 times in the actual story, and there's no real lasting impression they make outside of their idol career or supplementary material.

-And that wouldn't be too big of a deal, because the opener of Splatoon 2 ALSO sucked, and gave us table scraps for plot, but I was still able to engage with the story because the new salmon run mode was fun to play, and I still had a little breathing room with the new players before the meta scene REALLY kicked in with X-rank.

I'm not even going to get started with X-rank, or it's little brother S-rank's introduction in 1, but during my time playing I definitely got hit by the hard shift from casual to pro gameplay between these games. Splat 3 was a game that felt like it was made with the purest intention to please pro gamers, but in doing that, it really alienated any casual players from sticking around.

I have a difficult relationship with the shift in meta, because I started with Splat1 back in 2015. Splat1 was extremely defensive, and almost completely dominated by chargers, rollers, and sloshers. You'll never guess what my 3 favorite weapons were in that title I ended up spending.. I think upwards of 5 months figuring out how to play the splat charger, because I ran a Cap'n blog, and Cap'n was a historic bamboozler main. What kind of blog would I be if I didn't at least try to learn grandpa's main? Lol.

So then comes Splat2, and because of all the heckling they were getting over the hyperdefensive gameplay, they decided to shift to a hyperoffensive meta instead. Heaven forbid we got another Moray Towers or triggerfish, so they started to crack down on the level design to make it harder to lock a game down for 3 minutes with one really good charger.

So, my matches got spawncamped by blasters and shooters instead ♡

Because of that, it kind of hurt to come from being a skilled A+ rank charger at the time back into a B- level nobody who sullies their characters. But my friends were still able to play Splat2, and wanted to play splat 2, so it wasn't that hard to deal with.

Splatoon 3, however, no one wanted to play. Within almost 3 months of it's release, my mutuals were already done with it, and if I wanted to engage with it at all, I'd have to play it through solo matches. So I was already running on fumes, and then the main plot involved characters I never played, and plot that only really benefitted human lore. So, this blog's activity continued to stagnate until I couldn't find it in me to let it spiral into my human plot any further.

But it's ok sage, they reassured, because Splat2 plot also sucked, but OE pulled it out of the ashes! Just wait an entire year, and we'll show you how good this dlc is going to be!

Nope! More characters that you don't play and an average story!

I don't have a lot of hope for my relationship with a 4th game, because 2 and 3 gave me a general idea of where they want to go with the series now. I've just fallen too far behind from 2015 sage to 2024 sage that I know that the gameplay is no longer made for players like me. It's made for official tournaments and promotional material, and nintendo is going to make that bank because it's the logical choice. 3 Regulars will probably have it easiest, there.

Realistically, the easiest way for me to return to the series is if they made the map terrain "fun" again, or at least fixed the matchmaking to better pair people with similar skilled rooms (I'll wait those 20 minutes if I can be put in the right room, dammit!). But for now.. I'm sorry to return to the original character hermit shell I lived in, but the lack of community outside of my 4 mutuals isn't strong enough to keep me here when the gameplay can't.

So.. I'm glad Splat3's grand festival ended this on a bang, because I can say nice things about that. It finally gave me a fully positive impression, it just took the end of the game's lifetime to get here. I feel a little bad at the lack of an OE reference outside of Acht, but that more or less confirms to me Tartar is probably pretty dead in canon.

At least BOTH GRANDPAS MADE IT TO THE STANDS! I've had to eat crumbs for years and they reward me with a slice of toast. Maybe 4 could give all of us grandpa fans the balanced breakfast they crave, who knows.

-

So I'll be on hiatus for a bit, y'all can send asks at your leisure and if the fandom bug gets me again, there's a chance I could probably answer 'em in the future if splatoon 4 actually slaps. I just wanted to lay these motivation problems out so there isn't any will-they won't-they confusion that I've gotten from many other abandoned or deleted blogs.

[kallystah]

| 03 | introduction to cooking

550 words

One afternoon, the eldest of the siblings, being alone when it was midday mealtime, decides to leave his room, his stomach crying out for hunger...

- Rindou, are you there? he asks, placing his head in the crack of the door, hoping not to have to cook.

But, a heavy silence had the effect of making him sigh, realizing that the only one capable of cooking properly was absent. Entering the room, he opens the cooker and smiles, almost dancing, happy to see that it is full. Full of hope, he suddenly opens the fridge before becoming disillusioned, when he notices the fresh food without preparation.

- What should I do, I don't know how to cook...

He groans, raising his head to lay his eyes on the apron the youngest is using.

Taking it suspiciously with his fingertips, he winces as he ties it to his body. Trying to motivate himself as best as he can, he takes the fish tray out of the fridge and opens it. He instantly closes the plastic, the smell making him want to vomit.

- It stinks my god! I can't touch this!

Unfortunately, noticing that the hour is passing at a rapid pace and that his stomach is beginning to crave violently, he grimaces and pinches his nose as he lifts the lid with a knife. Turning on the gas, he places the pan on it after removing the skin from the piece of salmon, still holding his breath. However, running out of oxygen, he runs outside the kitchen to catch a breath of air and then returns to fight.

- You VS me, salmon, you're not going to beat me like that!

Opening the bottle of oil, he squirts it onto the well-polished tiles. Shrugging his shoulders, he pays no attention to it and pours some into the pan before throwing the fish in without the slightest delicacy.

- Ho fu- I got all over it! Luckily I put on the apron. he boasts proudly, swinging his braids behind his shoulders with the back of his hand while humming..

Unfortunately for him, not everything went as planned...Once the salmon was cooked, he panicked and started running around the house, afraid to see his food turn ashen. But, clumsily, he slips into the oil stain he hadn't wiped off beforehand, which causes him to hit the ground with a little of grace. Screaming while laying the blame on the puddle, he jumps when he hears footsteps approaching.

- What the hell are you doing? Arrives the youngest, hardly returned that he had heard the dull noise resounding in all the apartment.

- You abandoned me, you traitor! Ran indignantly, pointing at him, still on the ground.

Sighing, Rindou let out a laugh as he helped him up, worrying at least about his brother's condition.

- Give me the apron, I'll take care of the cooking but clean up the whole mess, please.

- Yes ! He nods, fleeing the kitchen.

- Ran, why do fish drown in oil?

- Well what, shouldn't you put oil?

Turning his head to observe his big brother watching him, his head protruding from the frame, worried and disappointed to have missed again, he smiled falsely before reassuring him and trying to save the fish from drowning.

~~~ chapter 03 -end. ~~~

Masterlist tkr

[mrs-starkgaryen]

The weekly essay that no one asks for but Maggie seems to enjoy and I certainly do-

So to mo further ado-

1. “Yeah,” Jace says. “You got to be in Episode 5,000 of Grey’s Anatomy.” Baela gives him a reproachful glare. “What?” he asks, clueless.

A) you make him an ass 😂

B) but I also made this reference so I forgive him

2. “Just a little one, please,” you tell Baela. A moment later, she plops a skinny slice of cake onto your plate. “Thanks, Becca! Wait, no, I mean Baela. Sorry.”

A) ho ho, that's awkward

B) skinny cake- damn Hollywood is already affecting her, bless

3. She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. “Who’s Becca?”

A) put the knife down Baela, babes

B) for Jace's sake

C) I hope this is foreshadowing- Becca goes full Michael Myers when she finds out something scandalous (just my sleep deprived brain)

4. “Excellent!” he says, wearing that same smile. His eyes, very blue, never change; they are alert yet vacuous, like the fatal error screen on a Windows computer.

A) it feels like his eyes are stuck, like the only thing that can move in a plastic face like a scream for help, if you get me

B) I was gonna say you can't change the eyes but I realised you can. There goes my 'eyes are windows to the soul' shit and how it will show how Sunshine will still always have the same soul (hopefully) deep down

5. “Fantastic.” He’s still smiling. You kind of wish he would stop. “You want to be an actress, I assume?”

A) ah creepy

B) he's getting that money money, ofc he's smiling

6. “Of course!” you exclaim too enthusiastically; your voice cracks. You undo the tie down by your waist and the fabric across your chest and belly goes slack. Your tan TOMS wedges are scattered on the linoleum floor that’s supposed to look like wood. The sundress you wore to the appointment, patterned with large sunlit palm leaves, is folded on a chair. Your eyeshadow matches: matte green Thorns by Anastasia Beverly Hills, sparkly gold Whisper by Natasha Denona.

A) she's so sweet, she will crack later with how Hollywood is gonna eat her up

B) slack as in she will collapse with the pressure of pretending

C) even the floor is fake, pretending to be something it's not 😭

D) she will have to take her cover (dress) of LA dreams off when the actual nitty gritty of fame comes to her

E) I'll come back to the eyeshadow.. they're getting darker...

7. As Dr. Cunningham opens your gown and begins the exam, you stare at a framed print of Venice Beach on the wall, and you pretend you are there under the hot glaring daylight instead of here in a frigidly air-conditioned office being prodded and manipulated, measured not to be admired or understood but only to be improved upon.

A) poetry, especially the last two lines

B) Hollywood is not the [framed] picture-perfect idea she has, she is still looking up at it even when times are tough but will it be enough?

C) being manipulated and measured is totally what the fans will do to her, omg

8. He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilled—the jar of pens on the receptionist’s desk? the glass bowl of mints?—and heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt that’s too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.

A) I had hope and I had prayed and Aegon came to save the day (poetry ooh)

B) he came running- perfect 👌

C) I wonder if she'll return the favour one day...

9. He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. “Hi. What the fuck are you doing?”

A) least he says hello

B) what a babe

C) also not looking downwards? Gentleman

D) I hope he brings it up later "I really wanted to see what you had underneath" *bites fist*

10. And immediately, you are ready to leave. “Okay.”

A) Aegon is gonna eat her up

B) but me too, anything for Aegon

11. Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist leave too, muttering to each other and casting you appalled glares. When you are alone, you throw off the gown and put on your bra, wedges, and sundress…and as you are smoothing the creases from the soft cotton patterned with palm leaves, you smile to yourself, kind pink heat swirling in your cheeks.

A) don't look at her like that, it's not like she invited him for the boob viewing 😭

B) oh girly is in LOVE

12. Dr. Cunningham’s office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes.

A) nothing to do with the story but that song makes my eye twitch lmao

13. “Chinatown,” he says, opening the passenger’s door of his Sebring. “And from now on, you listen when I tell you to do something, just like you said you would.”

A) "yes daddy"

14. But Aegon doesn’t smile; he only stares at you blankly. “What?”

A) and shit hit the fan

B) he has some sort of condition where he's forgetting things slowly and it's gonna decline so fast isn't it

C) that's why he wants out quickly before he's remembered for it!

D) I can just see actor Aegon forgetting lines and his family wanted him to take it easy 😭

E) my baby and sunshine thinks he doesn't remember cuz he doesn't caree

15. And he looks at you as if his skull is as clear as the transluscent blue-tinged water of the fish tank, all the lights on but nobody home, and for a split second you almost feel as if you don’t recognize him, as if he is a stranger wearing Aegon’s windswept blonde hair and ill-fitting clothes and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Then Aegon repossesses himself and he is flippant, casual. “Oh yeah, right. Totally. I remember now.”

A) my shaylaaaa

B) Maggie you're cruel

16. “Uh…1994, I think.”

A) he doesn't care or he can't remember that well

B) I'm gonna look for other clues in the other chapters

17. “She’s a dog,” you say. You read the description silently to yourself as the tea and wonton soups are brought to the table: Loyal and honest, you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the horse or tiger. Watch out for dragons.

A) alright sunshine, you haven't met her yet (jokes)

B) ho ho ho- Becca is gonna be selfish? Interesting how that'll play out

C) oooh, Dragons. good connection Mags

18. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.

A) cooler colours for something bad brewing?

B) silver and blue eyeshadow.. blue meaning loneliness... both aegon and sunshine are lonely.. speculation..

19. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Mario’s Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored.

A) Mario is Aegon isn't he?

B) the maze represents his mental condition: foggy and unclear

C) or it could be describing Hollywood- a confusing and toxic place but the coins (fame and riches) make it worth it? Hence why the power bar rejuvenates a little, but it won't her going forever?

D) also Becca is Waluigi lmao

20. Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shaken—not in a good way—and for some reason you feel like you’ve made some horrible mistake.

A) oooh girllll

B) both of his bitches in the same room

C) That wasn't supposed to happen

21. “No, you’re fine,” Aegon replies, but he’s still distracted. Mario suffocates in the maze and drops over dead. Aegon turns off the game. He clears his throat. “Uh, this is Becca.”

A) Mario is dead, nice. Bye Aegon

B) or it means her collapse in being in Hollywood

22. “Oh, brr!” Becca says, pretending to shiver, and you laugh.

A) wait no Becca is kind of cute

B) this will be interesting if we like Becca

23. “You’ll have to come to the wedding!” Becca says cheerfully.

A) stop she's sweet

24. “Yeah, all of Aegon’s clients are invited. Aren’t they, babe?” Becca glances at him, and then her eyes catch there and they stare at each other, Aegon slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, Becca standing next to you, and there are several slow awkward seconds of silence. Aegon gets a piece of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack on his desk and shoves it into his mouth. Becca looks at you and then back to Aegon, who is pretending to organize the clutter on his desk. You notice for the first time that there is a ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples there.

A) interesting.... she noticed something in his look... did she catch on?

B) does she know he got rid of his other clients but her?

C) you know it's bad when he starts cleaning 😂

25. “And I guess they’re growing on me.”

A) stopp

B) I love it, she's growing on him too (already has)

26. The Flower District is on the other side of Chinatown in Downtown Los Angeles. It’s the largest wholesale flower market in the country, six blocks of vendors selling every plant imaginable, from ordinary daisies and tulips to bamboo shoots, ferns, herbs, cactuses, succulents, baby trees, house plants like monstera and ivy. The aroma is overwhelming; when you breathe deeply, you imagine prismatic blossoms bursting up through the alveoli of your lungs, roses and irises and calla lilies and orchids. Aegon weaves through the aisles and frowns at the magnificent flowers, none of them right for some reason. You are endlessly pausing to sniff petals and gingerly graze your fingerprints over leaves. Aegon has to backtrack to find you when you stop to watch a demonstration of a Venus flytrap being fed.

A) the newness of LA is lost to him whereas she still is experiencing it

B) ah the Venus flytrap- Hollywoooooood

27. You inhale the faint floral scent that emanates from the yellow petals. “I’m going to put them in a vase on the kitchen counter and buy them flower food so they live as long as possible. And I’m going to talk to them, because that’s supposed to be good for plants.”

A) so the plants are gonna die, aren't they Mags?

B) you're preparing us for worse stuff

C) she's gonna be busy with something or distracted and the plants die

D) she's gonna say the same to Aegon when he's dying on his bed 😭

28. Aegon watches you, thoughtful, maybe a little sad. “I like you the way you are, sunshine.”

A) stop Aegons gonna break my heart (but not as bad as later ey)

B) he's the only one who seems to appreciate her cuz there ain't no sunshine when she's gone 🎵🎶 they both need sunshine

29. “And I don’t want you to change. It’s horrible to watch someone disappear.” He devours the rest of his waffle cone. “You know…I think helping you get to where you’re going, and making sure it’s done the right way…that will be the last good thing I ever do here.”

A) oh he will know about someone disappearing 😭

B) last good thing he will do here or ever??? Is he on a mission to die peacefully??

30. “Can I help you with something? I know the shoot is tomorrow, I’m really excited. I was about to get ready for bed so I can go to sleep early and be well-rested. There’s not a problem with the music video, is there? Please don’t say it’s cancelled or that I’m fired or something.”

A) she's so sweet

B) LA will take advantage of that

C) I hope she stands up for herself soon. This world sucks.

31. “It was in your file that they sent over,” Dan says, perhaps a bit guardedly, and before you can ask anything else you stumble upon the scene, and your stomach drops. The actress—me, you think, that’s not some other woman, that’s me—will be lying in a vast empty bathtub, soaked hair, dripping skin, black lingerie, writhing and whimpering as she mourns the loss of her lover.

A) sus.. why is her address in the file? That doesn't sound right.

B) ew gross scene- no need and WHY DIDNT THIS CHANGE GO THROUGH AEGON, THE MANAGER FIRST??

32. “Yes, thank you, that’s the term I was looking for.” Does Aegon know about this? He has to, right?

A) he doesn't babe

B) he's gonna lose his shit and pop an eyeball and be mistaken for Aemond in his anger 😠

C) if I don't get there first

Love your work as usual, and I keep noticing you pointing out dogs in this chapter. I'm watching you

A Curse [Chapter 3: Flower District]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, medical stuff, a creepy dude, a special surprise is found in Aegon's office!!!

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

You sleep in late and wake to the sound of excited voices out in the kitchen. When you follow them, you find Baela using a pink Click ‘n Flame utility lighter to ignite the candles on a sloppily but lovingly homemade cake, Pillsbury Funfetti according to the blue box left upturned on the countertop, lumpy white icing dotted with multicolored sprinkles. Jace must be responsible. You panic, thinking that you have forgotten a birthday, but no: you quickly recall that Baela is a Sagittarius and Jace is—somewhat improbably—a Capricorn.

“What are we celebrating?” you ask.

Baela looks up from the cake, the candlelight luminescence radiant on her face. She is beaming, she is glowing, she is definitely meant to be an actress. She shines too brightly to belong anywhere but among the stars. “I got the part.”

“Which part?”

“The one in the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie!”

“No way!” you shout, and you rush over to hug her; but already there is a sinking feeling that you are dimly aware of through the rush, and when the revelry is over you will lie in bed alone with these thoughts, treasonous yet true: When will it be my turn? Why can’t this happen to me? “That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s about the French Revolution,” Baela says when you pull away, still grinning hugely. “I’m getting third billing, my name will be on the promo posters! I’m flying to Paris for filming next month!”

“Wow.” Your smile is frozen on your face. “Wow, wow, wow, I can’t believe it. This is so awesome!”

Then Baela realizes how it must feel for you, and she is sympathetic, rubbing your shoulder as her expression twists into something soft and bashful. “But hey, your luck is turning around too!”

“Yeah,” Jace says. “You got to be in Episode 5,000 of Grey’s Anatomy.” Baela gives him a reproachful glare. “What?” he asks, clueless.

“No, it’s totally cool,” you insist. “I’m really, really thrilled for you, Baela. You have to take a million pictures in Paris so I can see all the architecture and desserts and hot French dudes!”

Jace snorts. “Are French dudes even hot?” He sounds skeptical.

“You can be my date to the premiere,” Baela tells you. Jace gapes at her, incredulous. “We can pose together on the red carpet and you can do some networking! Maybe Yorgos will even like you and cast you in his next project!”

But something about the way she says it makes the prospect sound ludicrous, fantastical, fictional. Baela’s breakthrough is reality, yours is unicorns and mermaids and the Loch Ness Monster. “You are so wonderful, but you should take Jace.”

“Yeah, you should take Jace,” Jace says.

Baela pulls a knife out of the bamboo block on the kitchen counter. Her parents bought it, like they bought almost everything else in the apartment; they believe in her, lots of people do. “Do you want some cake? When’s your appointment?” The appointment you didn’t cancel, contrary to Aegon’s explicit instructions. Technically, you never agreed to, so you haven’t lied to him. That makes you feel better. Baela glances at the calendar and reads the time written there in red ink. “Oh good, not until noon. You definitely have time for cake!”

“Babe, you gotta blow out your candles first,” Jace says. Baela closes her eyes, becomes still and serene, extinguishes the tiny golden flickers of light with one delicate puff. Then she begins cutting the Funfetti cake. You get three forks from the silverware drawer. Jace hands you a plate from the cabinet as he complains about having to go to class today: Music Aesthetics, Analysis, and Philosophy.

“Just a little one, please,” you tell Baela. A moment later, she plops a skinny slice of cake onto your plate. “Thanks, Becca! Wait, no, I mean Baela. Sorry.”

She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. “Who’s Becca?”

“Aegon’s fiancée.”

“Oh, your agent’s future wife? The agent that you are definitely not into at all?”

“Yeah, that one, you got it.” You give her a wink and take a bite of cake: frosting so sweet it hurts your teeth, tiny kaleidoscopic flecks of candy like gold in a stream.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, which one are you liking the feel of?” Dr. Cunningham asks, smiling in a way that is effervescent and yet impersonal, vaguely impatient, a real estate agent type of charisma. He must be in his mid-fifties, and yet his face is nearly entirely purged of wrinkles, smooth and shiny and evenly tanned. His teeth are too perfect to not be veneers. People keep suggesting those to you too; you need more time to wrap your mind around the idea of having your canines and incisors shaved down to helpless nubs.

“Um…” You go down the line again, squeezing all three samples that are arranged on the stainless steel utility table that Dr. Cunningham wheeled over to you. “I walked in wanting the gummy bear implants, and I think I feel the same way now.”

“Excellent!” he says, wearing that same smile. His eyes, very blue, never change; they are alert yet vacuous, like the fatal error screen on a Windows computer.

“And they’re safer, aren’t they? The gummy bear ones?”

“Statistically, yes,” Dr. Cunningham agrees, somewhat briskly, as if he is eager to change the subject. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. I hardly ever see ruptures in any of my patients.”

Hardly ever, not never. “That’s good!” you say spiritedly, like a star pupil.

“As I mentioned earlier, they are a bit more expensive than the other options, but we have several financing options available.”

“My parents are paying, so no worries there.”

“Fantastic.” He’s still smiling. You kind of wish he would stop. “You want to be an actress, I assume?”

“I do, yeah! How’d you know?”

He chuckles as he rolls the small metal table away. “That’s what all the girls are doing out here, right? And if it’s not acting, it’s singing, or modelling, or…what do you call that, when you make money on TikTok or wherever?”

“Being an influencer.”

“Right,” Dr. Cunningham says. “Well, I wish you the very best of luck.” It’s chivalrous but hollow, an echo of the encouragement he’s given to thousands of women just like you, except probably more beautiful and more talented and actually getting some of the parts they audition for.

I got a part, you think, and your mood lifts a bit. Aegon finally found me one. And he believes I’ll get more.

“Is it okay if I take a look?” the ever-smiling Dr. Cunningham says, and your heart begins to pound beneath the gown you’re wearing, scratchy white polyester-blend fabric that opens in the front. But this is all standard procedure, and you knew to expect an exam, and you should not feel like you’re lining up for the firing squad.

“Of course!” you exclaim too enthusiastically; your voice cracks. You undo the tie down by your waist and the fabric across your chest and belly goes slack. Your tan TOMS wedges are scattered on the linoleum floor that’s supposed to look like wood. The sundress you wore to the appointment, patterned with large sunlit palm leaves, is folded on a chair. Your eyeshadow matches: matte green Thorns by Anastasia Beverly Hills, sparkly gold Whisper by Natasha Denona.

As Dr. Cunningham opens your gown and begins the exam, you stare at a framed print of Venice Beach on the wall, and you pretend you are there under the hot glaring daylight instead of here in a frigidly air-conditioned office being prodded and manipulated, measured not to be admired or understood but only to be improved upon.

Dr. Cunningham is saying: “Just so you’re aware, due to how firm a gummy bear implant is, we typically have to make a slightly larger incision in order to insert it. Saline and traditional silicone implants, being more flexible, can be squeezed in through a smaller opening, for example using a transaxillary incision in the underarm. But they’re also more prone to wrinkling and rippling, and they must be replaced more frequently, so that pliability comes at a cost. I think gummy bear implants are a very good choice for you.”

“And…where exactly would the incision be?” Your heartbeat is still thunderous; you can hear the scorching red blood flow throbbing in your ears. Dr. Cunningham either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it.

“We’d go in right here,” he says, skimming his gloved fingers just beneath your left breast, your raw heart just two inches away. Goosebumps prickle on your arms. “It’s what we call an inframammary incision, and it gives us more room to work with to ensure the implant is placed properly, and…”

He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilled—the jar of pens on the receptionist’s desk? the glass bowl of mints?—and heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt that’s too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she’s shrieking. She smacks him with a massive leather purse. “You can’t just go barging in on patients! What are you, some kind of druggie? We don’t keep any opioids in this office!”

Dr. Cunningham yells: “Will you call the police, Barbara?!”

“No wait, I know him,” you say, and both Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist stare hostilely at you. You ignore them and look at Aegon instead, stunned. “Hi.”

He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. “Hi. What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s just a consultation.”

“For a surgery you’re not going to have?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “How did you know I was here?”

“I just had this feeling you weren’t going to cancel,” Aegon says. “So I went to your apartment and you weren’t home, but your roommate told me where you were and gave me the address that you wrote on the calendar.”

“Oh.”

“She’s very nice. Your roommate, I mean.”

“Yeah, Baela’s cool.”

“She offered me a piece of Funfetti cake.”

“Did you take it?”

“No. I was in a hurry to get here.”

“Right.” You remain seated on the edge of the exam table with your hands clasped together in your lap. The receptionist and Dr. Cunningham’s bewildered gazes fly between you and the intruder.

Aegon sighs and nods towards the hallway that leads out to the lobby and the front door of the office. “Come on,” he says gently. “Get dressed. Let’s go.”

“I can’t,” you reply.

“Why not?”

You don’t answer; your eyes dart to the print of Venice Beach on the wall and stay there as they begin to water. Aegon crosses the room—the receptionist and Dr. Cunningham shuffle around the cramped space to keep away from him—and stops when he is standing right in front of you, his hands in the pockets of his rumpled tan jacket.

“Why not?” Aegon asks again, very softly now.

You look at him. Your voice is a quivering whisper. “I don’t want to have to give this up.” The city, the potential, the dream.

“Hey,” Aegon murmurs, leaning in close. You can smell the ocean and sunlight and Juicy Fruit gum. Strands of blonde hair, ripped from the sheen of gel, shag over his forehead. “You’re bright as hell just the way you are. You don’t need surgery to be an actress. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And immediately, you are ready to leave. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You wriggle down off of the exam table, check your gown to make sure you’re still covered, and turn to Dr. Cunningham. “I guess I’m not interested anymore.”

“Please never set foot in my office again,” he says.

“No problem,” Aegon snaps. And then to you: “I’ll meet you outside. We’ll get lunch.”

“Sure,” you reply, still a little dazed.

Aegon hurries out of the exam room before the police are summoned. Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist leave too, muttering to each other and casting you appalled glares. When you are alone, you throw off the gown and put on your bra, wedges, and sundress…and as you are smoothing the creases from the soft cotton patterned with palm leaves, you smile to yourself, kind pink heat swirling in your cheeks.

Aegon is in the parking lot and leaning against his white Chrysler Sebring convertible. He has put on his black aviator sunglasses to blot out the intense afternoon sun. Dr. Cunningham’s office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes. Across the street is a series of shops in a row, Starbucks and Neiman Marcus and Gucci. Aegon says, pointing to your 2003 Honda Accord: “I’ll drive you back to get your car later.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Chinatown,” he says, opening the passenger’s door of his Sebring. “And from now on, you listen when I tell you to do something, just like you said you would.”

“I’ll be your best client ever,” you promise, climbing into the car. The top is down, the wind blowing in from the Pacific Ocean to the west.

“I’m here for a reason. It’s not to be ignored. I can be your advocate, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I completely understand. I won’t mislead you again.”

“The Grey’s Anatomy people really liked you, by the way.”

The hope unfurls across your face like dawn over the earth. “Really?”

Aegon gives you a teasing, crooked grin. “Don’t pretend you’re shocked.” He shuts the car door, jogs over to the driver’s side, drives east through thick midday traffic.

At the same restaurant you went to the day you met, seated beside the same large fish tank, you and Aegon place the same orders: moo goo gai pan, boneless spare ribs. The waitress, Lanying, asks Aegon about how his siblings are doing before she speeds off to tend to her other customers.

Aegon watches the malevolent ember-colored oscars for a while, then taps his paper Chinese zodiac calendar, rimmed in red and gold. “Which one are you?”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. “You already know.”

But Aegon doesn’t smile; he only stares at you blankly. “What?”

“I told you about my zodiac sign. The first time we had lunch here.”

And he looks at you as if his skull is as clear as the transluscent blue-tinged water of the fish tank, all the lights on but nobody home, and for a split second you almost feel as if you don’t recognize him, as if he is a stranger wearing Aegon’s windswept blonde hair and ill-fitting clothes and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Then Aegon repossesses himself and he is flippant, casual. “Oh yeah, right. Totally. I remember now.”

But you have the sense that he doesn’t. You try to hide how much this wounds you. It must not have been memorable. It must not have meant anything to him. “I’m a dragon!” you say brightly, and hold up your hands as if they are claws, opening and closing your hooked fingers.

Now he does smile, a little preoccupied, a little forced. “Of course you are.”

You scan the calendar. “What year was Becca born?”

“Uh…1994, I think.”

“She’s a dog,” you say. You read the description silently to yourself as the tea and wonton soups are brought to the table: Loyal and honest, you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the horse or tiger. Watch out for dragons.

~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive at Aegon’s office twenty minutes early, mostly because you miss him. It’s Wednesday, June 25th, and you park your Honda on the narrow sloping street and step out into 80-degree sunlight, ambient dog barking, powerlines crossing overhead. A lady walking her chihuahua waves at you and adjusts her sunglasses. Window air conditioning units whir. The trees, ginkgos and pink trumpets and Victorian boxes and palms, are still in the bright breezeless afternoon. The skyline of Downtown is a mirage on the horizon. From the barber shop across the street, you can hear a radio playing Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias.

When you clop into the lobby in your TOMS wedges, you see that Aegon’s door is closed. At his desk, Brandon is on the landline phone and jotting notes down in his planner, his flower pen scribbling rapidly across pink paper. When he spots you, he covers the phone speaker with his hand. “Hey girl!”

“Sorry, I know I’m early. Is he busy with another client?”

“No, go on in!” Brandon reaches down to dig around in the minifridge and sets a Perrier on the ledge of his desk. You take it, thank him, and go to Aegon’s door. You are puzzled to hear people talking on the other side, muffled indistinct voices. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.

Aegon has his Nike Killshots up on his untidy desk and is playing the Nintendo 64. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Mario’s Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored. Aegon is watching the screen as he talks to a woman whose back is turned to you: tall, willowy, long dark hair. They don’t realize you’re here.

Aegon is saying as he clicks the transluscent orange Nintendo 64 controller: “That’s great, babe.”

“And the charity thing is on July 19th. I got a custom suit from Tom Ford, it’s powder blue, all you have to do is show up to the fitting.”

He sighs euphorically. “You’re the best.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shaken—not in a good way—and for some reason you feel like you’ve made some horrible mistake. The woman spins around to see what he’s looking at. She is stunning and ethereal and wearing a plain sack dress that hangs perfectly on her, a young Cher, and she smiles at you, kind and dazzling.

“Hi!” you say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m a little early, I mixed up my appointment time because I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re fine,” Aegon replies, but he’s still distracted. Mario suffocates in the maze and drops over dead. Aegon turns off the game. He clears his throat. “Uh, this is Becca.”

You shake her hand when she offers it. Gold bangle bracelets jangle on her wrist. “It’s so nice to meet you, Becca!”

“And you must be the new client!” she says warmly. “The one from…where was it, Michigan?”

“Minnesota,” you reply.

“Oh, brr!” Becca says, pretending to shiver, and you laugh.

“Yeah, I’m really happy to be here. And you’re getting married soon, I hear!”

Becca beams, clapping her hands together. “Yes! I’m so excited but so stressed. The planning is endless.”

“Are you going to do it here in the city somewhere?”

“Aegon didn’t tell you?” Becca is perhaps a tad disappointed. “It’s a destination wedding.”

Aegon says from his desk, somewhat recovered: “Turk…something.”

“Turkey?” you say doubtfully. An interesting choice.

“Turks and Caicos,” Becca clarifies.

“No way! My sister just got engaged there, she said it was gorgeous.”

Aegon asks you from his desk: “Have you ever been?”

“I wish. Not yet, maybe one day.”

“You’ll have to come to the wedding!” Becca says cheerfully.

“Me?!” It’s ridiculous; you’re a nobody, you barely know her, you have a crush on her future husband.

“Yeah, all of Aegon’s clients are invited. Aren’t they, babe?” Becca glances at him, and then her eyes catch there and they stare at each other, Aegon slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, Becca standing next to you, and there are several slow awkward seconds of silence. Aegon gets a piece of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack on his desk and shoves it into his mouth. Becca looks at you and then back to Aegon, who is pretending to organize the clutter on his desk. You notice for the first time that there is a ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples there.

“I thought you didn’t like those,” you say to alleviate the tension that you don’t understand.

“Well, Brando eats them,” Aegon explains.

“That makes sense.”

“And I guess they’re growing on me.”

“They’re really good for you,” you say. “Helps to balance out all the boneless spare ribs.”

Now Becca is studying you, and instead of being warm she is now cold and rigid and perplexed. After a while she asks stiffly: “What are you two up to today?”

“We’re going to the Flower District,” Aegon tells her as he rolls his gum wrapper into a ball between his palms. “I’ll be done in a few hours, I just have to get some current pics of her to send to people. So we’re going to do a quick impromptu photoshoot.”

Becca nods, still scrutinizing you. You open your Perrier and start gulping it so you have an excuse not to talk.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Aegon asks Becca, and she perks up a bit.

“Beef bourguignon. It’s a new recipe, I’m really excited to try it.”

Aegon pretends to drool. “Amazing. I can’t wait.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Becca says, and goes to leave.

“It was so nice to meet you!” you call after her.

Becca replies curtly without stopping: “Yup. You too.” You hear the two-inch heels of her gold sandals tapping on the scuffed wood floor and then the rough opening and closing of the front door of the half-duplex.

“What just happened?” you ask Aegon.

“Nothing,” he says, standing from his desk. His shoes match his shirt, a green plaid Ralph Lauren button-up that isn’t tucked into his jeans. His hair is slicked back and shiny with gel.

“I’m sorry, did I…did I do something wrong…?”

He sighs. “No.”

You toy anxiously with your Perrier bottle. You don’t want Aegon to fire you; you don’t want to lose him. He’s the only person who understands. “You should have told me we were going to be taking pictures. I would have done my hair and worn normal eyeshadow.”

He smiles. “I wanted you to look like you.” Then he heads off to his Chrysler Sebring, and you follow him.

The Flower District is on the other side of Chinatown in Downtown Los Angeles. It’s the largest wholesale flower market in the country, six blocks of vendors selling every plant imaginable, from ordinary daisies and tulips to bamboo shoots, ferns, herbs, cactuses, succulents, baby trees, house plants like monstera and ivy. The aroma is overwhelming; when you breathe deeply, you imagine prismatic blossoms bursting up through the alveoli of your lungs, roses and irises and calla lilies and orchids. Aegon weaves through the aisles and frowns at the magnificent flowers, none of them right for some reason. You are endlessly pausing to sniff petals and gingerly graze your fingerprints over leaves. Aegon has to backtrack to find you when you stop to watch a demonstration of a Venus flytrap being fed.

“Here we go!” Aegon announces triumphantly when at last he is satisfied, and he lifts the large bouquet from a plastic bucket for you to see: massive sunflowers, water dripping off the cut stems. “They’re sunny, just like you. You like them?”

“I love them,” you say, taking the bouquet and beaming. Aegon pays in cash.

Outside under the harsh cloudless sunlight, he poses you in front of one of the flower shops, pedestrians walking behind you and a rainbow myriad of blooms out of focus. He uses his phone to take a series of photos, some up-close and some full-body shots, and you had assumed it would be awkward but it’s not, Aegon is making jokes and you are laughing and trying weird angles and spinning around so the skirt of your sundress swishes despite the lack of a breeze.

“Cool, got some good ones,” Aegon says, scanning through his phone. “We’re done.”

“What should I do with these?” you ask about the sunflowers. “Do you want them back?”

“Why would I want them back?”

“I don’t know. You paid for them, it feels weird for me to keep them.”

“They’re yours. Enjoy.”

You inhale the faint floral scent that emanates from the yellow petals. “I’m going to put them in a vase on the kitchen counter and buy them flower food so they live as long as possible. And I’m going to talk to them, because that’s supposed to be good for plants.”

Aegon chuckles. “You are ridiculous.” He slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans and sees an ice cream vendor up the street, then gestures for you to come with him. The ice cream is allegedly homemade and only comes in five flavors. Aegon orders for you both. “Hi, one vanilla and one strawberry.”

The vendor scoops the ice cream into two waffle cones. Again, as he always does, Aegon pays in cash. You locate an available bench and you and Aegon sit together with the sunflower bouquet lying between you, watching the pedestrians stroll by with their friends and partners and children and dogs.

“Tastes better when you make it,” Aegon says, licking melting strawberry ice cream from his waffle cone. “I might have another job for you.”

“Really?! Yay!”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but you said you’d take anything.”

“I definitely will.”

“It’s a music video for Maroon 5,” Aegon cautions. “It’s honestly pretty uninspiring and stupid, but it’s work. It’s another last-minute thing, at first the girlfriend of one of the band dudes was supposed to be in the video but I guess now they’re fighting all the time and the guy doesn’t like the idea of having a permanent reminder of her if they break up, which seems likely.’”

“I want to do it,” you say immediately. “When?”

“They’re planning to film the first week in July at a mansion in Beverly Hills. They already have a male actor cast. And you don’t even have to kiss him or anything, you get to argue with him in the first scene and then the rest of it is mostly you just moping around the mansion in designer outfits. Again, it’s super unoriginal. Boy and girl have a miscommunication and split, boy regrets it afterwards, they both secretly and photogenically yearn for each other. It’s very Edward leaving Bella in New Moon.”

“Sounds fantastic! Do I get to meet Maroon 5?”

Aegon is disappointed. “Are you a fan?”

“Well…not really.” You both laugh. “But I feel like it’s always cool to meet celebrities in real life.”

“Yes, you get to meet them.”

You cheer. “You are the most talented agent ever!” You take a lick of your ice cream; it’s almost gone now. You look over at Aegon, serious now. “You’re the only person who doesn’t think I’m absolutely insane for trying to do this.”

He crunches his waffle cone with his teeth. “Your roommate’s an actress, right? She must get it.”

You shrug. “Baela is confident, and magnetic, and she wants to be famous. She’s very obviously meant to be in this industry, and agents and directors respond to her. But I’m not like that. Most people don’t notice me. And that’s okay, I don’t really want to be famous. I just want to be able to be a working actor and get to stay here. If I’m not making significant progress by the end of the year, I have to choose between going back to Minnesota or being disowned and impoverished.”

Aegon watches you, thoughtful, maybe a little sad. “I like you the way you are, sunshine.”

You smile shyly at him. “Thanks. I like you too.”

“And I don’t want you to change. It’s horrible to watch someone disappear.” He devours the rest of his waffle cone. “You know…I think helping you get to where you’re going, and making sure it’s done the right way…that will be the last good thing I ever do here.”

“You don’t have to retire.”

He shakes his head. “Circumstances change. Priorities change.”

“Do you want kids?” If Becca is in her thirties, perhaps now is the time to start planning for that.

“No,” Aegon says, flinching. “Definitely no kids. You’re anti-horse, I’m anti-kid.”

“Then what’s the rush to leave L.A.?”

“It’s the right time.”

“Not for me.” You grin. “I just got here. You can’t abandon me yet.”

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of before I go. I’ll get someone I trust to sign you.”

“But I don’t want another agent.”

“The music video director asked to meet you before filming,” Aegon says, deflecting. “It’ll be quick, just ten or fifteen minutes. We’ll swing by his office on the way back to Elysian Park.”

“Okay,” you agree. You take a makeup compact out of your Patricia Nash purse and use the mirror to make sure you don’t have any ice cream on your nose or chin.

“I haven’t worked with him before,” Aegon says. “But I’ve heard very good things and obviously I’ll be there at the shoot.”

You snap your compact shut. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

In a spacious, glass-walled office in Downtown, the director introduces himself as Dan Sacco. He is tall and broad through the shoulders and extremely welcoming, offering you drinks and snacks and asking about your hometown as Aegon stands in the corner of the room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes watchful. Two jobs in two weeks; Aegon is a miracle worker.

When you get home to your apartment, it’s empty. Baela and Jace must have gone out somewhere for dinner. You put the sunflowers in a vase and then scroll through Instagram. Aegon has posted a new story: a photo of you standing with your bouquet and smiling, not sexy or alluring or arrogant but simply happy, and he must be very knowledgeable about filters because you think you look great.

Future Hollywood Walk of Fame star recipient, Aegon has added as a caption. If you want to book her, you know where to find me. He finished with a sunflower emoji. You press the heart button in the bottom right corner of the screen to like the story. Your own heart is racing now in the best way possible, feverish and loud, intoxicated, needful, seams ready to rupture.

You look up Becca’s Instagram, but her account is private. You send her a follow request. She doesn’t accept it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night before the shoot, there is a knock at your door. It’s 8:30 p.m., a strange hour, not early enough for Amazon deliveries or a visit from one of Jace’s eccentric PhD program friends, not late enough for a drunk tenant to have mistaken your apartment for their own. When you open the door, you are at first so shocked you can’t place him. Then you remember where you know the hulking man in the tan suit from. It’s Dan, the director of the music video.

“Oh my God, hi!” you welcome him. You have just gotten home from Cold Stone Creamery and are still in your drab grey uniform. You always drive to and from work now, per Aegon’s insistence. You promised you’d listen, and you’re trying your best. Jace is in Baela’s bedroom banging on his Yamaha keyboard. From the velvet orange couch in the living room where she is watching The Vampire Diaries, Baela peeks curiously over at where your visitor fills up the doorway.

Dan seems pleased by your enthusiasm. “Hello again.”

“Can I help you with something? I know the shoot is tomorrow, I’m really excited. I was about to get ready for bed so I can go to sleep early and be well-rested. There’s not a problem with the music video, is there? Please don’t say it’s cancelled or that I’m fired or something.”

Dan chuckles, a deep slow rumble. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you a heads up that we added a scene to the script.” He holds up a thin packet of papers held together by a single staple. “I’m not allowed to leave it in an unsecured location, so I have to take it with me when I go. But I thought you should be aware so you’re prepared when you show up to set.”

“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of you!” You take the packet and flip through it, skimming for an unfamiliar scene. “Did you get my address from Aegon? Or Brandon, his receptionist?”

“It was in your file that they sent over,” Dan says, perhaps a bit guardedly, and before you can ask anything else you stumble upon the scene, and your stomach drops. The actress—me, you think, that’s not some other woman, that’s me—will be lying in a vast empty bathtub, soaked hair, dripping skin, black lingerie, writhing and whimpering as she mourns the loss of her lover.

“Um…the bathtub scene?” you squeak.

“It’s going to be so cinematic,” Dan says, his large hands painting a picture with dramatic gestures. “Sunlight streaming in through a window, your skin glowing, you’ve drained the tub but you’re too heartbroken to get up so you’re just sprawled there, still drenched from the bathwater. Obviously it would make more sense if you were naked, but…we can’t do that in a music video.” He laughs. “But the aesthetic will be divine, like sexy mourning widow. And we’ll get all kinds of shots, you crying, you angry, you pining, you flirting and beckoning the camera closer, and we can get creative, you can just kind of crawl around all over the tub and we’ll see what you come up with.”

You gaze at the script until all the words vanish, imaging a room full of men watching you roll around in underwear, black lace wet and clinging to your skin, no secrets, nowhere to disappear. I can’t do that. But you can’t say no. “Is there going to be a woman on set to…you know, to…like…supervise, or, or something…?”

“You mean an intimacy coordinator?”

“Yes, thank you, that’s the term I was looking for.” Does Aegon know about this? He has to, right?

“Well, it’s not a sex scene,” Dan says rationally. “It’s not even a kissing scene. So we would never pay to have an intimacy coordinator around for this, it’s completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.” I can’t do that. I can’t do that. You feel nauseous; you feel dizzy, like you might stagger if you try to move.

“Look, if you’re uncomfortable, that’s totally cool,” Dan says. “I get it, a job like this isn’t for everyone. I have a list of backups I can call, and I can find somebody else—”

“No!” you cry out, then give the script back to Dan and manage a smile. “No, sorry, I was just a little confused, but I understand now. Thank you for letting me know about the new scene, and I can absolutely handle it.”

“Great.” He grins proudly. “I knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Dan lumbers down the hallway, and you close the door when he’s out of sight. Baela asks from the couch: “What do they want you to do?”

You swallow noisily. “Roll around essentially naked in a bathtub.”

Baela nods; she doesn’t seem alarmed. Is this normal? Are you unreasonable? “Bikini?”

“Lingerie.”

“Want to know a trick?” she says. “After you shave, run a Stridex pad over your skin. I have a container of them in the bathroom cabinet, use as many as you want. It’ll burn at first, but it kills any bacteria and prevent razor burn. No bumps or ingrown hairs!”

“Thanks,” you reply weakly.

Baela squints at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

“It’s not that bad,” she says reassuringly. “I know it seems like the end of the world, but once you do a nude scene or a sex scene once, the nerves go away and it’s just another day at work. You’ll get through it. You’ll do an incredible job.”

I don’t want to give up the dream. I don’t want to leave Los Angeles. I don’t want to leave Aegon.

“You’re probably right,” you tell Baela, and you pretend to be fine so she won’t worry, or pity you, or be further convinced that you don’t belong here.

You shower, shave, scrub your skin with stinging Stridex pads, and long after you were supposed to be asleep you’re still staring up at your bedroom ceiling, a deep blue shadowscape with no stars.

[kissagii]

revolve around you

inumaki x reader for @https-true-egoist's "love me not" collab

cw: fluff, classmates to lovers, gn reader, 0.7k words

The worst part of attending Jujutsu Tech High School was easily the general academics. It was a specialized school, and with the students spending so much time running from place to place fighting curses, there was really no time for the studies of a typical high schooler.

That's where you came in: academically inclined (at least, more so than your peers) and willing to lend a helping hand where your underqualified teachers failed.

Today's task, teaching Inumaki the lovely mess that is solids of revolution. In your mind, they're not that bad... until they are.

You use your pencil to trace over the haphazard graph you drew on the paper - "So, basically, it's just a bunch of circles. We know how to do circles. All we need is the radius, and we get that by looking at our y-values and their distance from the line we're rotating it around."

Inumaki nods, scribbling down a few things on his paper, then showing you the work. His handwriting is impeccable, and he seems to understand thus far. Outer radius: sinx+1 ; Inner radius: cosx + 1

"Yeah, that's right, so then we make our area formulas."

Inumaki writes down the formulas. You give him a nod in approval, then continue.

"And once we've got that, all we have to do is integrate and plug it into a calculator. I'll let you do that?" Inumaki gives you a nod, beginning to push the buttons on his calculator. You, having noted down the answer on your own homework, take the moment to admire him.

He's beautifully focused on the task at hand, lovely lavender eyes flitting between his handwritten work and the computing machine in his hand. Though he was never the best in mathematics, he was determined, and that made him easily your favorite to work with. Hell, he was probably your favorite of all the second years, a beautiful balance of playful and sincere. And oh so beautiful.

"Tuna?" He asks, prodding your hand. On his paper is a large boxed answer, 29.608. Not the answer you had written down.

You do a double take at the work on your own page - your final answer reading 17.771. Despite the conflicting answers, the work on his paper reads exactly the same as yours. Strange. "Uh... that's not what I got... but your integral looks good so maybe one of us plugged something in wrong? Let me try again."

When you pick up your calculator, you don't plug in numbers. Instead of the integral function, you click alpha-lock.

"Here, I think this is how it's supposed to be."

When you show him your calculator, written on the screen in place of an equation is a simple phrase.

Will you go out with me

The silver-haired boy in front of you immediately perks up. Any tiredness that came along with math was banished from his body, eyes sparkling as he picked up his own calculator with a grin.

Salmon!

Though he stays silent, you can practically hear his exclamation, the factorial symbol giving it adorable energy. You know he can type out words just fine, but the usage of his onigiri language makes you crack a grin. It's just so very him. And the fact that he returns your feelings has your heart reeling.

He beams at you, making a little heart with his hands, and you beam right back.

"You're so cute, you know that?" You ask with a little laugh, cheeks warming because he's just so lovable.

He makes a face of pondering, before nodding. "Salmon!"

For just a moment you forget your math homework, the test coming up, and the early February chill in the room. Because you've got yourself a personal little sun, a sparkling boy that speaks in foods and would defend you to the death.

"C'mon, I think we've done enough math for one day. Let's go get something warm to drink," You suggest, more than ready to put the subject behind you. There's something far better you could be doing with your time anyways - a date with Toge. A proper date.

"TUNA!" He cries triumphantly, before neatening up his papers and stuffing them into his bag.

It's unreal to you that you're about to go out with Inumaki. Spending time with all your classmates is one thing, but together? Just the two of you? And romantically? You dreamed about it, sure, but never thought it'd happen.

And little do you know, Toge's thinking the same thing - how could he have been so lucky as to land a treasure like you?

if this does well before the 14th i'll write a part two with the date itself :3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Billionaire x Reader Pt. II

Picrew:  Mochiibon

A/N: Bro when tell you I was so embarrassed to write that part I like turned away but my hands just kept writing. Naughty hands😗

And of course boo @je-suis-argent-miel​

Thanks so much for the support! I like your posts too ❤😏

⚠[Warning: Yandere tendencies and mindset, a little bit of lime, like no seriously this focuses on super sexual stuff so like you should run, throw up]⚠

I can’t believe I just did that. Sliding down the door you swore your heart was beating a mile a minute. Your hands shakily came to hold your folded legs where you rested your head. You were petrified, still leaning on the door because you would have fallen on your own.  

The amount of energy and confidence you burned trying to maintain your dominance and eat as though- a man who has a net worth bigger than your existence- wasn’t staring you down was enough to make you nauseous. So you had to lean on the walls of your apartment just barely making your way to the toilet to puke out the salmon, (f/d), and all the ashes of your confidence. 

The only reason you were able to voice your opinion so eloquently was because you knew what he liked. For the years you spent working for his less-intense-brother being able to save yourself, him, and the company, observation was your forte. It becomes your greatest tool, especially when the senior employee reaches into their back pocket not to pull out his phone but to assassinate your boss. Being able to tackle him seconds before he can even aim makes it all worth it when you’ve not only saved a life but given a raise to treat yourself with an extra thousand dollars. So you’ll notice how he emotes with his eyes when his brother asks ‘if he’s ok.’  You’ll notice how his tight expression loosens up when the female waitress oversteps their boundaries a little bit. You’ll notice how his index finger twitches when she goes too far and you’ll notice his jealous glare when she flirts with you. You’ll notice her being laid off and you’ll take into account how grateful she is when you get her connected into another company. 

So you knew he hated you at first and you knew how that really was just him falling in love. You knew when he started to look as though he had something he wanted to say. You knew when your boss asked if you wanted to go on this date it wasn’t a question. 

Because you knew you could prepare just how you liked it and the rules on how to deal with a Billionaire came into place:

Don’t be pushed around. Say something if you don’t like it or if you do.

Remind him he’s in control. Don’t let all that you say be without belittling yourself.

Stop him before he starts. Predict his every move and there will be nothing to regret.

You followed these rules or at least you tried to. It was easier to say to punch a shark in the nose rather than it was actually doing it. You wanted to pull your hair out (if you have any). You ended the night without knowing where he stood and that was your immense failure of the night. 

________________________________________________________________

“Aaah yes,” he couldn’t wait ‘til he got home, ”Ohhh~(Y/n)!” Your whole demanding act was the hottest thing he ever experienced you doing and he just couldn’t stop himself from imagining you deny him. He stroked himself as he replayed a video of you in the comfort of your room weakly punching your pillow because your snotty cousin decided to drop by and ‘complement’ your house. I wish that pillow was me. He didn’t care that he knew you’d probably never do that to him, just the image of you being so above him was enough to finish him. 

He knew that he was a freak and before you he had indulged in his love for a dominant partner but it just never left him fully satisfied. That itch was scratched in the inconvenient setting of a meeting when he could hear your muffled voice scolding an employee for sexual harassment. The insults, the crying, your voice cracking from your meek-work voice even behind a wall got him riled up as he tried to focus on whatever nonsense his brother was spewing. It was the longest conversation on how his sister-in-law finally agreed to have babies.

Another time was when his brother-the little slack- had gotten a stain on his suit jacket while they were going to see their parents. You noticed the stain as the four of you-Ivanov, You, his brother, and an escort- stood in the elevator to meet the parents. He was wonderfully startled by the gasp from your tiny mouth.

“SASHA! What is that on your suit?” Accusingly pointing at the offending stain with your (e/c) eyes widened the biggest he has seen it. 

“Uhm-Oh-some ketchup.” The dolt nonchalantly responds, not nearly as worked up as you. 

“I can’t believe you DIDN”T TELL ME BEFORE-” “I’m sorry but really it's not that ba-``''NOT THAT BAD! IT Looks like a bird pooped on you!” “What really-oh no.”

You both proceed to argue back and forth like a married couple until you successfully hound him to ‘go to the bathroom’ while you ran to the car and got him a replacement. He wasn't so turned on that he couldn’t handle it but he felt something in his heart, like a spark and he was so lucky that the escort was so busy eavesdropping that she didn’t notice his blush. 

“Hey Sasha. What are your plans for tomorrow?” 

“Hey big bro, I’m probably gonna call up Angie for another ‘negotiation’ if you know what I mean.” 

“Will (Y/n) be there?” 

“Uhm-well I usually don’t take ‘goody-two-shoes’ on my illegal activity runs so-”

“So they’ll be in their office?”

“Yeah, by the way how was your da-”

“Goodbye.” 

“Geez, could've at least pretended we care about each other.”

Ivanov for a long time couldn’t smile. It strained his cheekbones and made him uncomfortable but when he knew you would be free for an office date he smiled with pure bliss.

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[sillylittlescribbles]

Elanor and the Bard

(a short off-shoot of The Heroes of the Ancient Wasteland campaign)

——————————————————

Elanor was alone

there wasn’t anything wrong with that of course, and it wasn’t like she was totally alone. she had her companions and the quest and that was really all she should need. but it was night and everyone else was doing something and she was just…there. komos and eugene were drunkingly dancing together in the dead center of the tavern (with no regard for the people eating at their tables) and (S)Almon was reading up on some complicated subject that Elanor couldn’t even try to begin to understand. she’d only come to the tavern to make sure that komos didn’t blow all of his money, but it seemed like he was fine. so elanor, the youngest of the noble lyonesse family, was sitting alone at a table in a peasent’s tavern

maybe her parents were right.

As she was brooding about her angsty loneliness Elanor was caught off guard by a person collapsing next to her on the wooden bench. “WOOF, i am ex-haus-ted after tonight’s show!” elanor turned slowly to see the tiniest fucking bard she had ever seen in her life. Elanor wasn’t well read (or at least didn’t remember) many races that tended to involve that of the…shorter stature but the girl(?) that had plopped next to her was definitely not human. she was cradling a lute in her hands like a new born baby and looked quite flushed, as if she had run a marathon. “are you alright, tiny peasant girl?” damn was Ela good at talking to other people. she was much better than what komos said and Salmon wanted to say (she could swear he was saying something under his breath, but in which tongue she didn’t know).

the girl startled and looked (up) at elanor, taking in her freshly polished axe and the noble crest of her bloodline. and then she snorted. “AHAHA OH MY GODS- I THOUGHT YOU WERE- PFFFFF” she threw her head in her arms onto the table as if planning on taking a nap, but elanor could tell from the giggling that she was far from asleep. “yes! yes! i’m fine! i just thought you were someone else!”

elanor looked around the tavern, not seeing anyone that looked quite as knightly as she did. “ah. i see” elanor said, not seeing. the girl picked up her head and started patting elanors arm casually, as if they were old friends and not pure strangers. “you sure do talk funny for a noble! say, what’s your name big lady? i’ll buy you a drink for your troubles” she must have been a little buzzed, even in a town as safe as this no one was that fast-paced with an interaction. “elanor, youngest of the lyonesse bloodline, at your service m’lady. uh. gentlefolk” elanor gave what she hoped was a trust worthy smile (she looked like she was at sword point). “Elanoooorrrr, my buddy my palllll there’s no need for formal talk. as for terms you can call me whatever ya like! if you think i’m a fine young lady then that i am!” the girl(!) placed the lute in elanors hands (who totally did not fumble with it for a few seconds) and cracked her back. “alrighty ela of the lion bloods, i’ll treat you to one of my favorite drinks” elanor raised her hand as if to ask a question but the girl interrupted her again. “don’t worry about the money, i know the bartender personally and it’ll be on the house. for the cute knight who was worried about my health.” and then she skipped towards the bartender.

elanor had never someone so chipper before. even komos had his moments but this girl didn’t seem to mind elanors awkwardness in the face of social interactions. come to think of it- she was unusually small too. too big to be a fairy but too small to be a human. it was sort of cute if she- “i come bearing rum~~” two large pints were slammed onto the table with surprising force, and splashed a bit onto elanors’s gloves. if there was one thing she hated about alcohol, it was the sticky residue it left behind seemingly for days after. elanor looked over to see the bard piling some napkins on the table, along with some sort of flakey pastry. “i suppose the rum includes the baked good as well tiny bard?” “yes it does! the only thing better than getting drunk off your ass is eating good while you’re drinking!” elanor picked up a few napkins and began patting her gloves dry (it was still sticky sticky sticky and she knew that it would bother her and her dumb brain until they were properly cleaned. again, maybe her parents were right.

“shit, did i get that on your gloves? here, lemme fix it!“ the bard grabbed a piece of fabric that looked to be intended for glasses out of a pocket and began scrubbing at the gloves. that must be why her glasses were so smeared. “that’s really not necessary tiny bard, i can clean it once i get back to my hotel room-“ but it was clear that there was no getting through to the girl who was honed in on those expensive, shiny, expensive, sticky, EXPENSIVE, gloves. elanor only half wished that she were those gloves.

Elanor decided to redirect her attention to the pastry instead of of her companion (and when had she started calling any good-willed stranger a companion?) it was crescent-shaped with layers filled with what seemed to be chocolate. despite her kingdom’s magic, it was not that great of a trading partner with those neighboring (especially when the king oversaw it). so, chocolate was a rarity for Elanor growing up. to see it be so graciously heaped on what mustn’t have been an expensive commodity amazed elanor. she used her available hand to take a bite and hummed in satisfaction, it was still fairly warm. “ooh, gimme me a bite will ya?” asked the bard, who was still zoned in on the glove. elanor brought the pastry towards the girl and she quickly took a bite without moving her focus. it was actually quite impressive of a task. eventually, the pints grew less full and the pastry had more and more bites in it and elanor’s gloves somehow were cleaner than since the day they were bought. it had passed in a pleasant blur of conversation and warm food and drinks.

but, as all things, the night was coming to an end and elanor had to take the two boyfriends (or as close as to that they could be while still being unofficial) back to their hotel for the night. when she turned back to wish the bard a good night or to at least get a sense of where she would next be, the girl was gone. lost in a crowd of so many people and races and dialects that it almost made elanor dizzy.

later that night, under the cold white sheets of the hotel bed, elanor absentmindedly twisted the ring around her finger in thought. maybe she should practice, just to see if she had established a connection with the object. it should be a fairly simple request.

“i wish to see that girl again”

elanor forgot all about it by the next morning (why did it feel like something inside her was missing?)

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 13) - Whiskey & Cookie Cake

Summary: After returning from his parents, the reader and Jensen have a very special impromptu date. The following day, they make things official and the reader shares an important part of her past with Jensen...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, flangst

A/N: It’s not my fault if anything in this part makes you cry. Nope, none. Or if you want whiskey and cookie cake ;) Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I appreciate you two coming shopping with me,” said Alan as he stared at the flour section of the grocery store, Jensen off in the deli section getting some fresh meat for the grill. “Would you mind getting two bags for me?”

“No problem,” you said, bending down to get some. You sat them in the cart and walked down the aisle with him as he tossed in some yeast. “Are you gonna make your own hamburger rolls?”

“No, Jensen’ll get some from the bakery. My wife likes to make bread and send the kids home with a fresh loaf or two whenever they visit.”

“By kids you mean Jensen,” you said with a smile.

“Well, the other two are close by. They still get it. He liked it a lot after the accident. Couldn’t keep much down the first two weeks aside from bread and rolls,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“Something about trauma, grief and a major leg surgery not being a good combo the doctor told us,” he said as Jensen came up the aisle with his own cart. 

“Hamburgers. Hotdogs. Oh and steaks for me and Y/N,” he said, smiling at his dad.

“You really gonna milk last night for all it’s worth, aren’t ya,” he said. 

“Relax. It’s salmon,” said Jensen with a smirk, his dad groaning. “So yes. You’re gonna eat your fish and stay away from the red meat today and maybe we can start letting last night go.”

“You’re blackmailing me.”

“Blackmailing you would be saying you’re gonna start taking your cholesterol medication everyday,” said Jensen. His dad opened his mouth and Jensen crossed his arms. “Dad. You’re old. Take the medicine. Please.”

“Old. I run three miles every morning. Three,” he said.

“Daddy. Take your medicine.”

“What else do you want?” he sighed. Jensen smirked and walked down the aisle, pointing to the left. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“One time offer. We will never discuss last night ever again if and only if, you get me what is owed to me.”

“This is a grocery store?” you asked, Jensen chuckling. He ran back to grab your hand, pulling you away towards the bakery. 

“Boom,” he said, showing off a massive, massive cookie about the size of two sheet cakes.

“Jensen that’s like two hundred dollars,” you said.

“Eighth birthday. I remember being promised a particular cake from this particular store for my birthday if I got a A’s on every single one of my spelling tests all second grade long and guess who kept up his end of the deal,” said Jensen, crossing his arms.

“Spell optometry,” you said. 

“O, p, t, o, m, i-”

“Etry,” you said, his dad walking over. 

“Well I think I’ll buy the cake for the one that can spell after all,” he said. Jensen’s jaw dropped and he pouted. “Should you tell him or should I?”

“Jensen that cake behind you says Happy Birthday JJ.” He spun around and looked at the cake, cocking his head. “The one next to it says For Mrs. Rodeux’s best speller. Better late than never.”

“Oh. You...got me a cake,” he said.

“I called them first thing to get the second one done. You think I don’t know you kid?” chuckled his dad. Jensen looked at you and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to share it. It can go home with you.”

“Yes!” he said, doing a fist pump.

“Yeah, figured that’d win you over,” said his dad with a big smile.

“He really likes cookie cake huh,” you said.

“Just don’t let him eat too much at once or he gets sick.”

“I will do my best.”

Later That Evening

“Where’d Daddy go?” asked Zeppelin as you watched him take a bath back home in Austin. You were starting to get him comfortable with at least somewhat washing himself but for the most part he was still too interested in playing.

“I think he went to the bathroom downstairs,” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You want to get in some warm jammies and have a bedtime story?”

“Not particularly,” he said. You got off the bench and squatted down next to the tub, ruffling his damp hair. 

“How about we dry you off at least,” you said as you felt the water, a little cooler than you would have liked. “Come on. Time for jammies and bed.” 

“No thank you,” he said. 

“Hm. Well that sucks considering...well, you know…” you said. He turned his attention away from his boat and stared up at you. “Don’t you know?”

“No. What?” he asked as he got to his feet.

“You don’t know?” you said, his head shaking. “You gotta dry off and get in your pajamas then so we can go see.”

“See what Y/N?” he asked, climbing out of the tub with your help and picking up his towel. You helped him dry off and handed him his shirt and a pair of pull ups. “Y/N…”

“It’s in your room,” you said, never seeing him change faster as you drained the tub. He ran out the second his shorts were on and down the hall to his room, opening the door. He looked up at you and you nodded to his bed. He climbed on top and and you went over to his bookshelf, picking up the stuffed animal. “You know Wolf Wolfington?”

“Yeah,” he said, kneeling up in bed.

“You know how he’s your favorite?” you said, walking over with the animal behind your back. He nodded and you smiled, pulling the toy out. “I thought you might like him.”

“Wolfington!” he said, giving the stuffed thing a squeeze. “This is awesome!”

“I talked to Wolfington you see and he really wants you to get a bedtime story,” you said. “A really quick one even.”

“Okay,” he said, climbing under the covers with his new toy and his favorite blanket. Ten minutes later he was passed out and you put his book back on the shelf, hitting his light off and nightlight on. You skirted out of the room and shut the door. After cleaning up the bathroom, you wandered downstairs and found Jensen on the back balcony. 

“Hey,” you said as you opened the back door. You slid it shut behind you, Jensen looking out over the yard. “Feel alright?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. You stood beside him, Jensen shifting behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He rested his chin on your shoulder and you smiled.

“S’nice night,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. You took his hand and turned back towards inside. 

“Meet me on the trampoline in five,” you said. He smirked and headed down the stairs while you gathered up a few items. He was bouncing up and down by the time you got out there, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a container in the other.

“Well this looks promising,” he said, plopping down on his bottom. You set the items down and stepped inside, sliding the container over to him. He popped off the lid and grinned. “You cut up my cookie cake for me.”

“Only if you share,” you said. You cracked the peel off the bottle and took a swig, mouth burning but the taste was good. You handed it to him and took out a piece of cake for yourself, Jensen smirking as he threw back a good two shots. He shook himself out and put the cap back on, taking a big bite of his cake and moaning. He lay back with his head in your lap, smiling up at you. 

“I’m gonna keep you,” he said, smirking and taking another bite.

“I’ll make you a deal. You catch me, you can keep me,” you said, leaning down and pecking a kiss to his nose. He wrapped his arms over his head and around your waist, leaving his cookie on his chest. “No silly. You’re supposed to wait until I’m ready.”

“Oh, my mistake, miss,” he said, popping the last of his piece in his mouth. You took a few more of yours and wiped off your hands, Jensen sitting up just in time to tackle you back on the net, making you both along with the bottle and container bounce. “You’re not very good at this.”

“You don’t play fair,” you said, Jensen smirking before he plopped down on top of you. “Jensen.”

“See that’s twice I’ve caught you. I think you should honestly give up now and accept your fate with me forever.”

“Oh no! The cookie cake!” you said. He sat up and spun around, giving you a chance to crawl out from under him and over to the other side of the trampoline. “Sucker.”

“That you’re just gonna have to pay for,” he said. He jumped and bounced over to you, missing you as you rolled away. You giggled and went to stand but he was already right there and picking you up. “What to do with a troublemaker like you?”

“Drink, eat way too much dessert and look at the stars?” you asked.

“Cuddling is non-negotiable,” he said. 

“I suppose I can live with that,” you sighed dramatically. He grinned and started to bounce lightly, your arms going around him. “Don’t drop me.”

“Never,” he said, jumping up high with you, your arms squeezing him tight. He laughed and did it again before setting you down. He held up a finger and jogged back to the house, ducking inside and returning with a blanket. He handed it to you and you laid it out on the trampoline, Jensen laying back beside you.

“Just so we’re clear,” you said, taking a sip from the bottle while he got out another piece of cake and trading with you, “I totally let you catch me.”

“Gonna play it that way are we?” he chuckled. 

“Yup,” you said, Jensen turning and resting his head back on your stomach. You played with his hair, his eyes closing briefly while he chewed. He stared up at the dark sky, humming to himself. “I can tell you’re better than this morning.”

“Yeah. I know this chick. She has a knack for making everything better,” he said. You ran your fingers through his strands, taking a deep breath. “Did you know I make music on occasion?”

“The guy with guitars and records and music stuff all over his house? No, never,” you laughed. He reached a hand up and ruffled your head. 

“I’m serious, like I’ve recorded in a studio. I have an album,” he said.

“Really?” you asked. “You’ve never told me that.”

“I lost the mood for it a while back. It might be coming back,” he said. He was quiet and you twirled a piece of his hair, Jensen smiling and nuzzling back against you.

“Where’d you go during kiddos bath?” you asked.

“Mom had it handled,” he said. You took a bite of your cookie and felt him pull your hand in his hair down to his chest. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. You finished off your cookie and he reached into the container for another. “Plane.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Kinda to the left,” you said.

“I think I missed it.” You felt his gaze on you and you turned your head, green eyes looking back. “They get two moms is all. It’s no big deal.”

“They don’t have to call me that,” you said.

“I know.” He went back to looking at the sky, a few stars out in the clear night. “You know I heard from this chick, same one as before and all, that adoptive moms are kinda the shit.”

You sat up and his head wound up in your lap. 

“You want that?” you asked.

“Eventually, yeah. After the wedding and everything,” he said. “Speaking of which, and I know a lot of women have their vision and all that but I was thinking maybe you’d be interested in something smaller? You don’t strike me as the let’s have a huge thing kind of person.”

“You want me to adopt the kids?” you asked again. He nodded and sat up, moving an arm around your back.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” he said, your head shaking. “What is it?”

“I don’t...want to overstep and…” you said. He smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper.

“We have permission from the beyond it turns out,” he said. He held it out to you and you swallowed. “She wrote me a letter a few years back after the twins were born. I found it in my desk drawer last fall. I finally read it after we got home tonight.”

“Jensen, I can’t. This isn’t for me.”

“Well if you don’t read it, I’m gonna tell you what it says anyways.” 

“This is yours,” you said, pushing the paper back towards his chest. “She was talking to you. This was meant for you and only you.”

“Actually you’re wrong,” he said, putting it in your hand. “Some of the letter was for me but this page? This page I haven’t read because it’s not addressed to me. It’s for you and I need you to read it because this is the last of her voice I ever get from her for a really long time so I need you to read it and tell me what it says.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath before unfolding the sheet.

To The Next One,

I hope there is a next one. Like seriously. I’m telling you upfront that I was the one that did the asking out, not him. He’s shy and I swear Jensen if you’re reading this I’m kicking your ass the second I see you again.

“She’s funny,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

So. Next person he falls in love with. Here’s the deal. I got some contingencies for you and him getting together. Technically I have no say. Technically I can guilt trip from beyond the grave though so, you know, I win. But if you are the person he loves, tell him that you love him. He bottles shit up and shoves it down. He pretends he’s fine and he’ll take on the weight of the goddamn world with a smile cause he’s good like that. But he hurts and you’ve probably seen him cry as much as I have at this point. You can only be that good and kind and loving when you got a lot of love jammed in there.

So I imagine he was pretty fucked up after I bit the big one. Probably put on a brave face and powered through. But you know that. Do me a favor and put that boy in his place. Tell him to go cry or watch The Notebook. He says he hates it but it’s what he watches when he needs to cry. You know what else? Encourage that shit more. He’s getting there, really he is. He is the least toxic man on the planet. But you know, try to help him diffuse or something? I used to give him lavender bubble bath and he was all, no way and then next thing I know, he’s taking his bubble bath on a stressful day. Pay attention to that stuff I guess is what I’m saying.

Another thing. Presuming he’s not the most handsome geriatic man there could be when you’re reading this, have a fucking kid with him. Have two if you want, or more. Adopt the three that we made. Or adopt if you can’t. It’s fun and he is so good with a baby. He was walking around with Arrow earlier cooing at her and that’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever seen in my life and you deserve to see it too.

He’s special. Normally I’d never agree to sharing him but if you’re the person he gave this letter to, I’ll make an exception for you like I’m sure you had to make an exception for me. Make him happy and the kids. Let them make you happy. Maybe in another life we can catch up over a drink, figure out how to share there too.

And just between us, don’t stop acting like kids in love for the first time. He won’t and you shouldn’t either.

See you around The Next One.

Dee

P.S. His blue henley is the softest thing on earth. He hides it in his gray suitcase. Steal it or I swear we can’t be friends.

“Y/N?” asked Jesen as you folded up the paper. You smiled and put it in your pocket. “What’d it say?”

“I don’t think it was meant for your eyes,” you said, planting your hands behind you and leaning back. “But she’d like us to do everything we’d like. Also found out a few things I’m gonna have to keep a secret.”

“Oh really?” he said, smirking at you. “Like what?”

“I think that’s between us girls,” you said, laying back on the trampoline. “We are going to share you though so I think you’ll like that.”

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” he chuckled. “After all that?”

“She loves you a lot. I mean a lot Jensen. Pretty much it’s her asking me to take care of you guys and some little ways to do that,” you said. He nodded and lay back, smiling to himself. “Do you-”

“No. If I change my mind I’ll just ask to see it,” he said. 

“Why’d you finally read the letter she had today of all days?”

“I was ready, after my parents and how you acted. I’m not letting her go or moving on so much as...I want my first girl to love my second girl and I’m pretty sure you two would care about each other, for me and the kids sakes.”

“Well I gotta love her. I happen to know the location of a certain...shirt I’m supposed to steal,” you said. He turned his head and his jaw dropped.

“She told you about the blue henley! No, it’s so soft!”

“I was instructed to steal it so I’m afraid I must make this sacrifice for Dee. It’s really the only respectable thing to do.”

“You two are somehow still managing to gang up on me,” he said with a laugh. “Oh my God. I don’t know if I can handle an afterlife with the both of you.”

“Yeah but threesomes on the reg,” you said. He let out a deep laugh, running a hand over his face while you giggled. “Sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“No, no that’s Dee for ya. She would be more than down,” he chuckled. “Yeah, she’d like you a lot.”

“We both have excellent taste in men,” you said, reaching for the container of cookie. There was one piece left and you held it out, Jensen leaning up to take a bite.

“That’s not the whole thing right?”

“Jensen it was the size of a sheet cake. This is like, a fifth of that,” you said.

“Good cause as you can see, I have no cutoff when it comes to this stuff.” He took another bite and you put the rest in your mouth, his eyes narrowing. He pecked a kiss to your lips and pulled you to lay back with him. “I have a fun idea for tomorrow while the kids are at school and daycare.”

“Lay in bed naked and drink coffee?”

“That is an excellent idea we will be touching upon Tuesday morning. However, it seems to me that my fiance is missing something,” he said, lacing his fingers with your left hand. 

“You want to go pick out an engagement ring?”

“Hm, I think you’ll just have to trust me on this one,” he said. 

“Okey dokie.” You turned onto your side and curled up beside him. The air was warm and comfortable, Jensen stretching out. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

You woke up to the sound of birds, Jensen groaning beside you. The air felt different and opening your eyes told you exactly why.

“Howdy neighbors,” said Jared. You bolted up and turned on your bottom, Jared chuckling while Jensen grunted again. He pulled you down to lay and Jared laughed. “Stopped by to get the keys to your jet skis when I saw those three inside eating cereal out of the box and watching cartoons.”

“See? They can fend for themselves,” mumbled Jensen. He sat up and brought you with him before rubbing his eyes. Jared walked over to the entrance of the trampoline and smirked. “Shut up.”

“What’d you two crazy kids get up to last night?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Jensen. 

“There is a half drunk liquor bottle and you both smell like whiskey and chocolate.”

“It was cookie cake,” you said. “I think we accidentally fell asleep out here.”

“The trampoline don’t make a half bed mattress,” said Jensen. You crawled out of the entrance, Jared holding the bottle and empty container when you handed them off to him. Jensen followed after as you stretched out. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight,” he said. 

“Shit. JJ’s late for school,” he said, Jared shaking his head. “Ah, thank you.”

“Gen took her and the boys. I dropped the twins off at daycare after I came out here and made sure you were both alive,” he said.

“I thought something poked my back,” you said.

“I figured I’d let you guys sleep,” he said. “You want to hit up the water with us? Double date while the kids are at school?”

“We have plans,” said Jensen with a soft smile. “But dinner here later?”

“What are we having? Cause you know we got our tradition for last week of school,” said Jared with a grin.

“You guys handle the sides, we’ll handle the meat,” said Jensen. Jared smirked and you shook your head. “You’re a child.”

“You handle that meat real good,” said Jared, Jensen whacking his arm.

“Be careful with the skis. Wear your life jacket doofus,” he said.

“Yes mom,” said Jared as he handed you back the bottle and container. “Six thirty ish?”

“Sounds good. Oh and if Gen is in the mood to make extra queso…” said Jensen, Jared rolling his eyes. “Thank you Jared.”

“Yeah, yeah. You guys finish up your thing early you know where to find us,” he said. He headed back up the yard as you and Jensen ducked inside. 

“I am going to shower,” you said. Jensen grinned and grabbed your free hand. “Do...do you want to shower too?”

“We would save a lot of time if we did it together,” he said. 

“I like the way you think Ackles.”

“I am so confused,” you said an hour later, sat on the hood of Baby with a blindfold on. “You know normally you would do the blindfold and then give the ring, not the other way around.”

“Eh, quiet with your back sass. I have a surprise for you that requires some preparation,” he said. 

“Oh you know prep work is very important,” you laughed.

“Jared’s a bad influence on you.”

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you said. “So to recap, after we showered and got dressed in what I should say is a particularly flattering romper-”

“I like the red one but you had to go with the blue, didn’t you,” he chuckled.

“The red one is so tight on my ass it’s not even funny.”

“We have different definitions of problems with clothing,” he laughed. 

“Well, this light blue one is strapless.”

“I know. I find that very, very appealing.”

“Anyways, my randy fiance hits me out of nowhere with a ring he’s had in the closet apparently and then he kidnaps me away to his muscle car, throws a blindfold on me and after approximately twenty one minutes of driving, mainly highway, we park and he has abandoned me like a damsel to fend for myself in the summer heat.”

“You trying to win an Oscar over there?” he chuckled.

“I’d settle for an Emmy.”

“Oh yeah. Everybody can get one of those,” he laughed. “You can calm yourself little lady. I am almost done and frankly your timing estimation is scarily accurate.”

“Well I know how far the brewery is from the house so not that impressive,” you said.

“We’re not at the brewery,” he said.

“We are literally at the brewery. I heard someone shout your name.”

“Technically we’re on the land next to it, smarty pants. Two more seconds,” he said.You leaned your head back, enjoying the breeze and smell of fresh pizza. 

“Hey Jensen. What’s this dinner tradition thing with the Padaleckis?”

“Oh we started it a few years back. This is the kids last week of school. Since tomorrow and wednesday are half days, we kinda always get together as like an end of school celebration that Monday night. We’ll go out this weekend with them but we do a home cooked meal, normally a tex-mex blend sort of thing for this. I got a guy we can get some marinated brisket from on the way home. We’ll put her in the grill on low and she’ll be good to go.”

“You ever have a sandwich with brisket, coleslaw and jalapenos? It is so, so good.”

“I’m gonna have to try that out tonight,” he said, his hands on your arms. “For now though, please remove your blindfold, madam.”

You undid the bow in the back and pulled it off. A small table was set up with a two candles on top, a box of pizza at the end and a six pack beside it.

“You really do know the way to my heart,” you said. You laughed and he walked you over to it, pulling out your folding chair. “I thought I smelled pizza.”

“I know you like the one we sell quite a bit,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “I actually...don’t laugh but this was kinda my idea of how I actually wanted to propose. It’s private but simple. You’ve never been the fanfare type. I thought you would have liked it.”

“You could always ask again.”

“Wanna marry me?”

“Yup,” you said. He wiped off his brow and and you gently smacked his arm. “I do like it. Just us. It’s really peaceful here.”

“I’ve always thought so. Our own little slice of country,” he said.

“I never told you, did I,” you said, smiling to yourself. “I grew up on the outskirts of Austin, about ten minutes down the road.”

“That’s all farm country out there,” he said. You shrugged and he chuckled. “You grew up on a farm?”

“My mom owned acreage from her parents, their parents before them. She left it to me. I haven’t been in over a year. A local farmer makes sure the house is in order but we got fields and a house and barn. I never sold it in case I needed a place between nanny jobs.”

“Would you show me sometime?” he asked.

“Yeah. We can go after our lunch date. Promise.”

“What do you think?” you asked when you walked up the front path to the house nearly an hour later. 

“This is gorgeous out here. It’s so quiet,” he said as he looked around at the small hills and trees, the swaying long grass in the breeze. “We should keep this.”

“Huh?”

“You said you kept it for a place to stay between jobs. I think we should definitely keep it though, for us. It’s like a different world almost but it’s within driving distance of home.”

“I haven’t lived here since I was sixteen,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “But...I think you’re right. Mom would want us to keep it. I really did love it here. It’d be great too for when your family is in town. We only have the one guest room but this is a much shorter drive for like your siblings families and they don’t need a hotel or anything.”

“That’s a great idea. I know they’d visit more often if they had the space for the kids and some grown up space even,” he said. You picked up a rock by the steps and grabbed the key, undoing the front door. It smelled only a bit musty as you stepped inside. You left the door open, leaving the screen one shut to air it out as Jensen turned his head. “This place is huge. Your mom got it from family?”

“Her parents died when she was in college. Only child. There’s five good sized bedrooms,” you said. “That was the dining room which honestly we only used for holidays. Stairs, hallway to the back. Left is the family room.”

He started to wander and you followed after, showing him the kitchen before taking him up.

“This was my room,” you said as you opened a door. It was fairly empty aside from a bare bed and a few boxes. He thumbed over the doorframe, catching each notch in the wood.

“Hit your growth spurt around twelve?” he asked. You nodded and he smiled. “I was so short.”

“Not short anymore,” you said while he walked around.

“Do you have any pictures of your mom? The downstairs looked a little bare.”

“Yeah,” you said. You showed him down to the master, opening up a box on the bed. “That’s where they all are.”

“Would it be alright if we took these home with us?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, taking a seat. He sat beside you and you took out an album, Jensen smiling at the first page. “Don’t laugh.”

“That is the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen.”

“I didn’t have much say in the matter,” you said. “That’s from the day I got adopted.”

“You were adorable, even if it looks like you’re wearing a drape,” he chuckled. He turned the page and cocked his head. “Is this your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s so happy,” he said. “I bet that was one of the best days ever for her.”

“I agree,” you said, Jensen flipping some more before stopping at one. “What is it?”

“Where’s this from?” he asked.

“I think Miami. We went there on vacation one year with Ray. I was nine I want to say,” you said. 

“Was it March?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Dee went on her spring break to Miami one year in college,” he said. He pointed at a couple of girls that were in the background behind where your set up was, one of them looking very familiar. 

“That looks just like-”

“I know. Might not be her. Odds are-”

“How many Danneel’s have you ever met with their name on their bag,” you said, pointing at the purse.

“Oh my God. She was such a little preppy nerd,” he chuckled. “I bet she did that cause of her friends.”

“You can have that if you want.”

“I think we can share it,” he said. He turned through the pages and finished with the album, picking out another. You let him look and ask questions for a while before he’d gone through most of the box. He carried it downstairs with him and packed it away in the backseat before you brought him around to the back of the house.

“Come here,” you said. You dragged him over to the tree with the wide swing, space enough for the both of you to sit. “I used to stay out here all day sometimes. Day of the funeral I must have sat here for hours and hours.”

“Not a bad place to grieve. It’s pretty.”

“It was the last time I sat on this swing. I said I’d never feel at home here again,” you said. “Ray and I got an apartment closer to town, moved the next week.”

“How do you feel now?” You smiled and leaned back.

“Now...home is people, not a place. I want to share this with you, the kids. Our family. I was so unhappy as a child and this place changed that for me cause of my mom and even Ray. It’s a good place again for me. Home is somewhere else now but it feels warm here again, not sad and cold.”

“Thanks for taking me out here today,” he said.

“Maybe we can even do that camping trip in one of the fields. You gotta see the stars out here, way more than at the house.”

“Camping with indoor plumbing only steps away. Best of both worlds,” he said. “Do you own anything else big? We never really talked about that kind of stuff I suppose.”

“Actually I own the Dallas Cowboys. I didn’t want to intimidate you,” you said. He rolled his eyes while you bumped his arm and giggled. 

“Okay wise guy.” He threw his arm over your shoulders and you expected a noogie but only got a kiss on the head. “You’re lucky I know how long you spent on your hair this morning or else you’d be so screwed right now.”

“Losing your edge, Ackles.” He didn’t hesitate that time to put you in a headlock and you managed to ruffle his some before he gave in with a laugh. You could feel a few strands out of place but he stood and undid your hair tie, moving behind you and scooping it all up. He hummed and put it back in a messy bun for you, smiling as you leaned back to catch him fixing his hair. “I don’t have much else besides this place, my car and a savings account.”

“You know, speaking of your car...I’m gonna have to be an asshole about something,” he said.

“Oh? What’s that?” you said as you stood. You walked in front of him and he rested his hands on your hips.

“I’m going to have to insist on a new one.”

“Ah, come on. It’s my first car. I got if for my sixteenth birthday,” you said.

“That car is almost as old as you are. I know you don’t have to drive it as much lately since we take mine but please can we get something from the current decade? Pretty please?” he asked, jutting out his lip. 

“Are you worried?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “I will look at something newer, I promise.”

“Thank you,” he said, checking his watch. “Want to go get that meat, get started on it?”

“Oh I bet you want to handle that meat,” you said. He gave his bitch face and walked away as you laughed.

“Your crude humor is very immature,” he said as you caught up with him. “I don’t go for that kind of low brow thing.”

“I watched you make a dick out of a banana and two oranges at the grocery store yesterday.”

“Touche,” he said.

“You’re silly,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “But I like that.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple. “Anything besides the brisket you want to pick up? Chicken? Burgers?”

“Hm, I’ve never made my world famous chicken thighs for you yet. I gotta grill ‘em but the secret is you heat them up in the oven again with this marinade sauce. I got a raise out of it once actually.”

“First off, the face you can grill is extremely attractive. Second, how’d you manage a raise?” he asked, stopping by Baby.

“I made them for the couple I was working for at the time. She took credit of course but they had a fancy dinner party with her boss and she got named partner at her firm for it so she gave me a raise for helping out.”

“Well now that you’ve hyped these things up to here we gotta have some for sure,” he said. “Why don’t we head out to the store. We only got about an hour before we need to grab the twins from daycare.”

“After you babe.”

________

A/N: Read Part 14 here!

[missallsundaes]

Sanji x Male Reader — Amateur Chef

2111 Words • CW dealing with repressed bisexuality

When Luffy heard your self proclaimed cooking skills in the town market to a friend, he immediately invited you on to the ship, even without trying your food. A bigger crew needs more cooks, was his reasoning for Sanji. Sanji wasn't exactly happy about the new addition to his kitchen, possessive about his things and how the kitchen was maintained. And he was sure that you wouldn't take the same care as he did. At least you had your own set of knives, he thought with a sigh.

The first night cooking together proved to be...a challenge. He was paying you no mind, working in his own entrees for the crew, but the haphazard slap of the kitchen knife against the chopping board, well he could only stand it for so long before his temper got the better of him.

“What the fuck are you doing over there, amateur?” He seethed, turning to face you.

You sheepishly set down your knife on the counter, stepping back to show Sanji the vegetables you were cutting. His heart skipped a beat, seeing your rough cut shapes and uneven chops.

“What are you doing to that poor food!” Worded like a question, but spat at you like an insult. He approached you cutting board, staring down at the mangled shapes of potato, carrot and celery, hand frustratingly pulling through his hair.

“Well I'm just making soup..” You started, you were a bit offended but the chef in front of you was too intimating to talk back to. You'd heard enough stories about Black Leg Sanji to know when to keep your mouth shut.

“So you decided to torture your poor ingredients?” He reached for his own knife, wiping it clean with a cloth before trying to salvage the vegetables. You watched in awe as he saved first the potatoes, then the celery. He looked at you before touching the chunks of carrot on the board.

“You taking notes, amateur?” He said. His voice was softer now though his tone was still harsh. He raised the visible eyebrow, “Come over here and learn how it's done.”

He waved you over to stand in front of him, placing his hand over yours on your knife, he guided your left hand into place, showing you the gentle fist to protect your fingers without losing grip on the vegetables. He started slow, chopping motions in cool even bursts, slicing the chunks of carrot into perfectly measured cubes. You tried to pay attention but the beating of your heart in your throat, his warm hand over yours, and his firm chest placed against your back was all that your mind could focus on.

When the carrot was taken care of he let go of your hand, leaving you feeling you were missing something. You watched him cross the kitchen again, standing again in front of his own prep, you watched him skillfully pull the bones from a huge fish in one movement, running his hand over it to make sure it was all removed, looking for even the smallest of bones.

You hadn't heard about how gentle he was. How careful in the kitchen with perfect mannerisms. He looked at you, and you realized how obviously caught up in watching him you were, jumping to peel the garlic in front of you for your soup. He laughed, turning back to his prep, beginning to make a marinade with fresh lemons and cracked pepper for the fish.

“You're not a chef are you?” He said, looking at you briefly as he squeezed the lemons of their juice.

“No not at all,” you said sheepishly, ”I know a few recipes but when a wanted pirate grabs you and tells you you're going to be a chef on his crew you listen, you know? It's not like I was in a position to refuse..”

He sighed, knowing exactly how enthusiastic Luffy could be when he set his mind on something. “Don't worry, you can be my sous chef. I'll teach you what you need to know. We'll start with more knife practice for breakfast tomorrow, I hope you're okay getting up early.”

You thought briefly of how much you were not a morning person, though this was not the time to mention that. You nodded, “Thanks for helping me. You're a kind man.”

Sanji's face flushed at the genuine compliment, turning around quickly as if there was a pressing matter in the fridge to attend to. “N-nonsense it's just the right thing to do.” He stammered, head buried in the fridge, looking desperately for an ingredient to pull out that would make sense.

///

He kicked your hammock in the men's cabin, foot still perched on your side as you swayed back and forth, trying to regain your senses, shaken from a dream about your new crewmates, the one in front of you in particular.

“I thought you could be up early,” he laughed.

The room was still full of the snoring of the other men, the only light from the lantern in Sanji’s hand, casting golden light across him. He was already dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, looking primed for the day. You were sure that you looked the absolute opposite, feeling the drool caked to your cheek and knowing your hair was probably a wreck.

“Uh, about that,” you chuckled, climbing out of the hammock and hopping to the floor of the cabin. “I may not be as much of a morning person as I said.”

“I figured as much when you didn't wake up the first few times I kicked you.” He said, “Though I bothered you enough for you to say my name in your sleep.”

You turned from him, hiding your face by searching for a clean set of clothes, forcing an awkward laugh, “Oh yeah I must have subconsciously known you were trying to wake me.”

“Well hurry up, these idiots won't be asleep forever, and you do not want to see Luffy without his breakfast.” He left the room for you to get dressed, and you trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you met him in the kitchen, he had a multitude of fruits set up at your station. You could smell bacon in the oven already, and he was whipping a large bowl of eggs for what you could only imagine was the biggest omelette of all time.

“Took you long enough.” He said, though he had a smirk on his face, his harsh attitude from yesterday softened.

“Am I chopping these?” You said, lifting your knife to slice the strawberries laid out on the board.

“Ah ah wait. Hold on I'm almost done.” He said, setting down the bowl of whipped eggs on the counter. He approached you, watching over your shoulder. “Do you remember the lesson from yesterday?”

You nodded, ”I think so.” you put your hand in the position he showed you, holding the knife how it felt under his guiding hand, breathed in and started slicing the strawberries.

The difference in your cuts from yesterday to this morning was leagues away. He adjusted your elbow, his firm gentle touch making your heart flutter, and just the adjustment of your arm made your slices neater. “Breathe,” he said, his own breath hot in your ear and making you catch your breath instead. You struggled to retain your breathing, but your cuts were messier now. He took your hand again, your heart beating through your chest. “You're making this so much harder than it is, watch. Breath with me.”

You times your breathing to match his, his firm chest pressed into you, his hand over yours. You felt your chests rise in succession together, making you feel as one. His hand held yours in place, but you were doing the work.

“Exactly like that,” he praised, you felt like you could melt right then and there. “You're doing great.”

He let go of you, stepping back to the stove top to heat a huge skillet for his omelette. “You've got it from here I presume.” You watched him for a moment, testing the temperature of the pan before adding his eggs and watching them diligently. “Most of breakfast is ready, so just get the fruit cut and plated and then we can wake up the crew.”

You nodded, “Thanks again, Sanji.” You said, continuing to chop the fruit in front of you, plating it up on the large platter he had set out.

///

The next few weekswent the same, Sanji waking you in the morning. Him teaching you new techniques to use in the kitchen. Making three meals a day together, not including if someone wanted a snack, getting closer and closer until you couldn't bear it. Your feelings for the man were definitely growing, you had a sneaking suspicion that he had similar feelings for you, but the constant doting of the girls on the crew made you doubt yourself, fearing that he wasn't into men the way you were.

You had already made fresh baked bread together that morning, as you watched his hands knead the dough tauntingly slow, his strong hands rolling it out and beating it down, his sleeves rolled up you could see the flexing of every muscle in his forearms.

You were cracking about two dozen eggs into a large skillet to fry, trying not to think about how close he was to you, chopping chives to put on top of your fried eggs.

“Sanji,” you said, rinsing your hands of the raw eggs in the sink.

He didn't look up from his work, now slicing pieces of smoked salmon, “Eh?” He said.

“I think I might have a problem,” you said, trying desperately not to look at the blond sharing the kitchen with you. He set down his knife, immediately checking your eggs over, the stove temperature, any kitchen error he could think of before looking you incredulously in the face. “It's not my food.” He looked more relieved than you expected and you laughed.

“What is it then?” He said, curly brow peaked with curiosity.

“I think I fell for one of my crewmates since I've been on the ship.” You flipped your eggs carefully, trying not to break your yolks.

“Oh? Nami? Robin?” He said, going back to work at his salmon. He wasn't jealous, per say, it's not like he really expect to feel this way about you. Plus the girls were gorgeous in every way, how could a red blooded man not fall for them. He still didn't know how to accept his feelings for you, forcing down any hint of bisexuality that he ever felt, blocking out those feelings, usually with anger.

“Uh no,” you said, turning off the heat on the stove and letting the residual heat finish your eggs as you seasoned them with salt and pepper. Beginning to set up the crews plates with thick slices of your fresh bread, two eggs each (four for Luffy and Zoro), sprinkling the chives on top, and passing the plates to Sanji to top with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.

After a moment of silence so thick you could slice it with the kitchen knife next to you, you continued, “Sanji, it's you.”

He almost dropped the plate he was holding, and you both moved quickly in reaction, hands one on top of the other under the plate. “What,” he said, worded like a question but tone flat in disbelief.

“Just, spending all this time with you has meant so much to me,” you withdrew your hand, looking away from him to hide the tinge of crimson on your cheeks. “Having you close to me, your guiding hands. Your strength. I can't help it.” He was still frozen in place, thoughts racing. “Just don't worry. Never mind, forget I said anything!” You said, plating the last of your half of the plates.

“Wait,” he said, as you were leaving the galley to wake the crew, “I think I fell for you too.” You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, but his back was to you. “I grew up not allowed to be who I wanted and even though I can now it's still hard to accept who I am. But I want to learn and be better. I want to be with you.”

“Do you mean that?” You said, letting the door swing back closed.

“Yeah,” he laughed, he turned to you smiling with tears in the corners of his eye. “Yeah I definitely mean it.” He wiped his eye, “Come on then, let's go wake up the ravenous beasts.”

[alrightberries]

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack.  ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly. 

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.” 

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all. 

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness. 

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands. 

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.” 

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.” 

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[combat-wombatus]

Truth or Dare

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of crack

Warnings: swearing (bakugou), but other than that, none! (unless u have traumatic memories of truth or dare)

WC: 3.1k

Summary: Mina and Denki work together to make sure that you know exactly who Sero's crush is. 

(A/N): so @klvbxlove requested some headcanons about sero’s fem!crush having an obsession with kpop/anime and sero doing cute stuff for her and i tried sticking with the prompt in the beginning but then i led myself off-topic (oops) so it turned into this! sorry it’s not what u requested, i can write something else for u if u want! i was just struck by sudden ✨inspiration✨ for this fic so...here u go...

“EEEK!” You squealed, bouncing over to your friends. “LOOKLOOKLOOK-”

“(Y/L/N),” Bakugou grumbled. “Calm the fuck down, no one can understand you.”

You took a deep breath, then handed your phone over to Mina.

As soon as Mina saw the screen, she started squealing just like you were.

“(Y/N)!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG-” she grabbed your arms and started jumping up and down like an overexcited toddler.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gave an exasperated huff, then stomped away. “Can’t deal with you idiots when you’re like this.”

Mina dragged you by your arm over to a bench on the side of the cafeteria and the two of you spent your lunch break slurping udon and watching your favorite K-pop group’s newest music video on repeat.

Sero was chatting idly with his friends, mouth full of sushi. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you from the corner of his eye, sneaking glances every couple of minutes. Dense as Kaminari may be academically, he had noticed Sero’s preoccupation with you throughout the meal.

“Hey bro,” He poked Sero’s elbow with the clean end of his chopstick. “Whaddya keep looking at (Y/L/N)-chan for?” He squinted at Sero. He glanced briefly at you, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned his eyes back on Sero. “Do you have a crush on her or something?”

Sero choked on his piece of salmon and spluttered, face beet red. “N-no! It’s not l-like that!”

Bakugou snorted. “You dumbass. The hell you mean ‘it’s not like that’? Any idiot with eyes and half a brain can see that you’re obsessed with her.”

As Sero tried to deny his feelings for you, Mina slowly shifted her attention from your phone to hers, which was dinging incessantly.

Kaminari

hey bro bro broski my man my lady? minaaaaa

Mina

asdkjfhluhal i told u to stop calling me that and what

Kaminari

so u know abt seros crush right

Mina

u have the AUDACITY to ask me, the queen of gossip, whether or not I know abt seros crush? the sheer AUDACITY is STAGGERING-

Kaminari

ok ok stop bullying me anyways wanna get them tog?

Mina

D U H would be easier if y/n wasn’t so dense and sero wasn’t so chicken

Kaminari

since ur in do u have a plan

Mina grinned. Of course she did. What kind of person did Kaminari think she was?

Mina

take sero to the boba place after school meet u there

Pocketing her phone, she turned back to face you. She had to resist the urge to cackle. This was gonna be fun.

Later that day, you and Mina walked to the dorms together.

“Whaddya say we go out today?” Mina asked excitedly, eyes gleaming. You found it a bit suspicious, since yesterday she had told you that she was failing math and was going to study with Yaomomo today.

“Didn’t you say you were going to study with Yaomomo?”

“Shit.” Mina face palmed. “I did, didn’t I? But I don’t waannnnaaa,” she whined. “Let’s just go out and get some boba and we’ll come back,” she promised, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, okay.” You relented. “But if you fail math again, don’t blame it on me.”

She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I would NEVER.”

Giggling, the two of you made your way to Coco’s Café, a cozy little place that served everything from coffee to cookies. It was also a developing cat café, mostly due to the popularity of the kitty that the place was named for, Coco.

Sidling up to the counter, you ordered a matcha boba tea while Mina ordered a strawberry milk tea with lychee jelly and boba.

“Is that it for you ladies today?” The man behind the counter asked cheerfully.

“Yes please!” Mina replied. The two of you sat in a corner booth, sipping your drinks and gossiping.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mina started. “So you know about Sero’s crush, right?”

You halted mid-sip. What? Sero had a crush?

Laughing at your startled expression, Mina leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “So,” she whispered. “Who do you think it is?”

You sat there, drink forgotten, racking your brain for possibilities. Jirou and Hagakure hung out with Sero sometimes, exchanging memes and goofing around, but they weren’t really around that often. Usually, Sero only hung out with Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Mina, and you. Mina, possibly? Was Sero gay? Did he have a thing for, say, Kaminari or Kirishima? You didn’t think that Sero would be the type to like Bakugou, but hey, he put up with Bakugou’s temper all the time, so maybe? Ugh. You resisted the urge to groan and drop your head into your hands. This was so complicated.

Mina sat back, this reaction obviously not being what she had hoped for. “Well?” She crossed her arms. “Do you have a guess yet?”

You thought about it, then decided to pick an answer randomly. “You?” You tried.

Mina snorted and almost spit out her drink. You were absolutely unbelievable. Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you picked HER? “No, (Y/N). It’s not me,” she managed to choke out in between fits of laughter.

You sprawled out on the table, no longer concealing your frustration. “Who is it then?” You whined. “Jirou? Hagakure? Is Sero gay?”

Mina actually did spit out her drink this time.

As she cleaned up her mess, Mina silently judged you with her signature side-eye. She really is that dense, huh. Guess I’ll have to knock some sense into her.

Furiously brainstorming, you tried to think of any more possibilities. As you sat in silence, something warm and fuzzy crawled sneakily onto your lap, and stayed there.

Knocked from your daze, you glanced down and the unfamiliar presence, only to realize that it was a kitty. THE kitty. Coco, the café’s namesake.

“Aww,” you cooed, lightly scratching behind her ears. She purred happily in response to your ministrations and curled into herself, tail tucked neatly around her haunches.

Just then, the doorbell jingled and the rest of your close friends walked in.

“Hey!” Kaminari chirped, giving you and Mina a lighthearted wave.

“Hey!” You replied, unaware of the glare Mina was currently giving Kaminari. As soon as they went up to order, Mina stood up and announced that she was going to the bathroom. You took out your phone and scrolled through your social media feeds, taking advantage of this time to research.

“Psst!” Mina pinched Kaminari’s elbow lightly.

“Ow! What?” Kaminari turned to face her.

Mina gave Kaminari her scariest glare. “I told you to bring Sero, not the whole squad!”

Kaminari whimpered. “But Kirishima heard and wanted to tag along too! And it would’ve been suspicious if I said no! And then Bakubro heard that Kiri was coming and decided to come too-”

Mina sighed. “You could’ve texted Sero in private!”

Scratching the back of his head, Kaminari gave Mina a sheepish smile. “Sorry Mina, I hadn’t thought of that”.

Mina stole a quick glance back at your table, and seeing that you were otherwise occupied, she turned her attention back to Kaminari.

“So, Stage 1 of the plan didn’t work. She didn’t even seem to consider herself as a possibility! However, no fear! It is time that we put Stage 2 into action!” Mina whisper-shouted. “It’ll be more complicated with Kiri and Bakugou present, but we always have a Plan B!” She quickly related her backup plan to Kaminari, who promised to tell the boys (minus Sero) to make it run more smoothly.

After giving Kaminari a quick fist bump, Mina slinked back into her seat. “So, (Y/N),” she paused, chin resting on her hand. “Since the boys are here, why don’t we ask Sero himself?”

You looked up from your phone. You hadn’t really found any clues as to who Sero’s crush could be. Most, if not all, of his posts were with your group of friends. You thought about it for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be awkward if he didn’t want us to know?” You asked Mina.

“Oh, but we’re nosy friends! It’s our JOB to know and then tease him about it!” Mina giggled. “And besides,” she added. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

You hesitated. She did have a point. You were curious, but at the same time, a little voice in the back of your brain nagged at you. Did you really want to know? Did you really want to see him crushing on someone else, and then tease him about it? That wouldn’t really be funny, for you, at least. But if you disagreed with Mina, it would be suspicious, and besides, you WERE curious. Even if the answer wasn’t the one you wanted, you would still rather it be out in the open than bottled inside. You’d rather know for certain than lose sleep over it at night.

Sighing, you relented. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

Mina rested both of her elbows on the table and smiled at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Truth or dare.”

As the boys returned, each holding their own drinks, Mina was bouncing in her seat. Bakugou and Kirishima each pulled up a chair, and Sero took the chance to sit next to you. At that, Mina smirked devilishly.

“So,” she grinned, fingertips dancing on the table. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t believe he’d been roped into this, but Kirishima and Kaminari wouldn’t let him ruin it. Kirishima dropped a fist on the table. “Yeah!” He turned towards Mina. “Who’s starting?”

Mina pretended to think about it, when in reality, she had already made plans.

“How about (Y/N)?”

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow. You thought that Mina would be the one to interrogate Sero.

“Yes you, dummy,” Mina teased. “Is there another (Y/N) sitting here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling dummy?”

Mina grumbled. “Just get on with it, would you? Who are you going to ask?”

“Hmm. How about Sero?” You turned to face him. “Truth or dare?”

Sero was panicking. You weren’t the type to give out ridiculous dares, and he definitely needed to be cautious about truth. “Dare.” He said confidently.

You chuckled. Mina had prepared you for this possibility.

“I dare you to kiss your crush within the next 24 hours,” you said, “and the whole squad had to be there to see it.”

Mina and Kaminari let out simultaneous “oohs”. Bakugou pointed out the obvious. “Why the next 24 hours?”

“Because we don’t know who his crush is and they’re probably not here right now,” you answered. “And the whole squad will have to see it to make sure that he does it and doesn’t chicken out. You’ll have to ask their permission first, though,” you added. “Consent is key. Even if they turn you down, as long as you tried, we’ll count the dare as completed.”

Your friends nodded in agreement. Mina clapped her hands gleefully. “You should’ve known, Sero! You can’t hide things from us!”

Sero was *this* close to having a panic attack. He had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing. This is going to be so embarrassing how am I going to do this without making an utter and complete fool of myself gosh you really should’ve not stared at her at lunch today Sero or this wouldn’t have happened jeez are you really that dumb now the whole squad will know and you won’t be able to look her in the eye anymore adfkhiavelrsnjaerliaevr BREATHE SERO BREATHE-

The game continued. Mina dared Bakugou to smile for 5 consecutive minutes, at which Bakugou nearly flew out of his seat, palms crackling.

“You fucking extra how dare you-” He didn’t get to finish, as Mina quickly took out her phone and opened the timer app.

“And the countdown starts now!” She cackled. “That is, unless you forfeit-”

“I’M NOT GONNA LOSE TO YOU, YOU DUMB FUCKING EXTRA!!!” With that, Bakugou angrily took his seat again, disregarding all the angry scowls he received from the rest of the café’s patrons, and pulled his lips up into what could only be described as the devil’s grin. He sat like that for a full five minutes, glaring lasers into Mina, not moving a muscle. You think Mina was mentally scarred after that, because she never looked at Bakugou for the rest of the game.

Kirishima dared Kaminari to record a video of him singing the pi song and send it to Jirou. The poor boy had so many voice cracks while singing it that Kirishima went easy on him and told him to just send the first 15 seconds.

Bakugou dared you to let everyone look through your phone for one minute. You were reluctant, but seeing as you were relatively normal with only minimal embarrassing photos, no confession texts, and a fairly clean search history, you let them do it. The most embarrassing thing they found was your playlist.

“How the fuck is your playlist 74 hours and 42 minutes? What the fuck do you have on here?” Bakugou held out your phone for the rest of your friends to see.

“And why is your history full of that shitty Korean music?”

You gasped. He did not.

“Hey!” You snatched your phone back. “If you’re going to insult my music, you don’t get to continue!”

“Tch.” Bakugou sneered. “You call that shit music?”

You were thoroughly offended by this point and refused to even acknowledge his statement. You glared at Bakugou with as much intensity as you could muster. This man had no taste in music whatsoever.

The 1-minute timer dinged, and Bakugou was saved from a scathing talking-to as you all moved onto the next victim.

Mina was dared to order a glass of milk with ice, then put it on a random table (with customers) and leave without an explanation. She ended up choosing an old couple, likely in their sixties, who were cuddling with two cats. They’d each ordered a cup of coffee and shared a plate of cookies. When Mina put the glass of iced milk on their table, and the two women shared a confused look before turning their attention to Mina.

“Thank you?” The lady with horn-rimmed glasses asked rather shakily.

“Yes, thank you very much young lady, but we didn’t order this?” The one who had a tabby on her lap said, perplexed, looking Mina up and down.

Mina made a motion with her hand, zipping her lips, then giggled and sat back down at your table. The two ladies, baffled, took one look at your table and seemed to understand what was going on. They turned back to their coffees and cats and resumed their conversation.

You had all gone one full circle, and everyone had finished their drinks, so you all decided that it was time to go. You rubbed between Coco’s ears one last time and walked out into the afternoon sun.

“Hey Sero!” Kirishima clapped Sero on his back. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about your dare,” he smiled cheekily. “Better get it over with when we first head back into the dorms, huh? That’ll probably be the easiest time to get it over with.”

Sero groaned. He’d hoped that you would all forget after the game was over, but his luck had run dry. He’d have to face the music sooner or later. He debated on his options. If he waited too long, he’d seem cowardly. He didn’t want to do that. On the other hand, maybe if he waited a full day, you would all forget? He shook his head. No, with Mina here, she’d never let him live it down. And besides, who was he to renege on a dare?

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he rubbed them together nervously. This was it. This was the moment of truth.

“Hey guys! Wait up!” He called out to Kirishima and Bakugou, who had walked ahead of the group. “I’ve got something to show you!”

Bakugou quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” He smirked. “Whatcha got, Tape Arms?”

Sero cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready. I’m ready to do the dare.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was just you and the rest of the squad here. Did you really have a chance? You were scared to get your hopes up, but maybe, just maybe, you would be the one he kissed.

Hands curled into fists at his sides, Sero gulped. He was doing this. He was really doing this. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and strode over to where you and Mina stood.

“(Y/N),” He stared at his feet. “Would you…would you allow me to kiss you?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to calm yourself down. It was you. Sero had a crush on you. Your crush liked you back!

After a while, Bakugou felt the need to step in.

“Oi, dumbass!” He hollered, garnering the attention of curious passerby. “You gonna let Soy Sauce Face over there kiss you or not?”

Your face flushed a furious red. “U-Umm, y-yeah!” You stuttered. “You can kiss me, Sero!” You cringed at how excited you sounded.

Slowly, Sero tilted his face downwards. He lifted your chin tenderly and lowered his lips to yours. His lips were soft against yours, his breath tickling your cheek as he let go. You blushed harder than you ever thought was possible, and he looked down with a pleased smile.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” He said in a soft voice. “Can I take this as a sign that you have feelings for me too?”

Nodding frantically, you whispered a noncommittal “mhm”.

“Can’t hear you, sweets,” Sero teased. “Come on, I’m gonna need a verbal confirmation.”

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat. “Yes.” You whispered in a slightly louder tone. “Yes, I h-have feelings for you too.”

At this admission, your friends all cheered, Mina hooting especially loudly. “Hells yeah!” She high-fived Kaminari. “We did it!”

“Best wingmen ever!” Kaminari shouted.

“That was so manly of you Sero!” Kirishima added, flashing a thumbs-up. “Congrats!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever. Finally got it in their thick skulls that they liked each other. Big fucking deal,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Hey, hey! Don’t you go and ruin the mood now!” Mina scolded him. “Just look at them! They look so happy!” She pointed towards you and Sero.

“Hmph. Well, those idiots could’ve been happier sooner if Sero had the fucking balls to confess earlier.”

“Oh, shut it already! Just be glad that they’re finally together!”

“Like I care.”

“Stop pretending, you big grouch! We all know you care!”

“Tch.”

Masterlist