#but at least I did half my dishes last night

[cator99]

New Girl Saga Update:

The Stench And Rot Chapter

Due to my lengthy bathroom redecorating, the unemployed ftm had resorted to using the basement washroom last night. He reported back to me, overcome with despair. Even he— who has been a strong advocate for the new girl, despite all things— was left appaled and slightly offended. He had to clear a path and clean the seat just to use it. The landlord was supposed to come yesterday morning to fix the leak in there— and thank god she rescheduled. Imagine living somewhere illegally, tasked only with covering up your tracks so this is not obvious, while risking total household eviction if your presence is discovered (as I've independently established, this isn't the case but I cant have them knowing that I've had any dl contact with the landlord and I'd rather everyone believe their interpretation of events anyway so we have more reason to push her out— she's more than well-off enough to afford normal Toronto rental prices, which is admittedly part of why people have been more patient with her, since she's helped the ftm with rent when he couldn't pay it in the past— her room could go to someone who truly needs it, just like I did when I found this place after months of couch surfing and sublets!), and then to turn it into such a disgusting fucking mess, knowing it's only going to reflect poorly on the person who lives down there, who ftr has been at her boyfriend's place all week and had neither the time nor the energy to intervene when she came home at 5am and realized there was rotten produce in a fabric bag seeping its fucking rot juice on the kitchen tiles and stinking the place up... good god... dishes in the sink stacked like jenga that had been piling up since last time she was there... a bathroom with odd and mysterious stains all over the floor and toilet... clothes and garbage everywhere... clumps of hair seemingly sprinkled atop everything as a garnish.... stink and stench abound. My coworker-housemate is the only other one in the basement. She may be a clutter-accumulating type of person (for those without hobbies– collecting is a half-decent substitute. Whatever gets you out of the house, I suppose), but everything she owns, at the very least, has a designated place. Regardless. Despite being a rather loud and blunt person, she's been conditioned by Pins Girl (long gone... it all just feels like an old bad dream......) to not say a damn thing about the new girl's unsanitary habits. But the landlord had rescheduled for 1:30pm today. Something's gotta give. Exasperated messages were sent by her, as well as by ftm, around 6am. No response. Afternoon comes. No response. Chat registers that new girl had long since seen the messages.

I had my bedroom door open as got ready to go I for a grocery run around 1pm. From here, I can see down the hall and into the kitchen, which leads to the front door– slightly out of view from my pov, but I can always hear the door open and close, even if my own door is shut. This is when I observed new girl tiptoe up from the basement, noticeably careful to be as quiet as possible as she crept through the kitchen, slipping out the front door. She's not a quiet nor subtle person, so I immediately found it odd, and listened in as she made close to no sound shutting and locking the door. With her back to me, she likely didn't realize that anyone had noticed her do this. The landlord's arrival with the handyman was imminent. She gave her ETA. The group chat lit up in a panic. The other basement dweller woke up to check out the state of the basement. Not a damn thing had changed. As the minutes slipped away, panic set in. I went out to grab groceries. Basement tenant rushed to clean up as best as she could in her half-awake state. However, not wanting to actually have to deal with someone else's disgusting rotten produce, she simply threw it into a plastic bag and hid it in the storage room. Sprayed some febreeze. The stench was impenetrable. It then just smelled of febreeze plus rot and stench and aura of disgust. She did her best with what little time she had to clean, but she truly didn't know what to do with all of the clothes and new girl belongings that had been thoroughly scattered like an old barn in a tornado. She tossed it all into a bag, and again into the storage room. 1:45 rolls around. The landlord has come and gone, as the handyman had only decided to do a quick assessment in order to return later. Group chat is pinging in my pocket as I'm in the checkout line. Landlord had asked Basement Tenant if the ceiling in the storage room was still leaking as well. It has a slight leak. They had to go in there. Door opens– and the smell of rotting produce hits them like teargas.

I've since sent a message to the landlord explaining the situation, and that new girl has said she is looking for a new place, expressing that everyone is hoping this will happen as soon as possible, since her presence has become such a detriment to the entire household. Fucking hell... the absolute disrespect..........

[yellobb]

I am doing unwell ✨psychologically✨

[nadvs]

please can we have sleeping with the enemy reader taking care of rafe with his hangover (from your last blurb) 😚😚

aaaa yes omg the fluff! (and the everyone but them can see it trope!) (and the overdue confession!) 🙂‍↕️

based on this fic, continutation of this blurb

rafe can’t even open his eyes yet. he feels like he’s an inch away from death.

about a month ago, he moved out of his dorm and into a house with a group of his teammates. it was a nightmare securing a lease on a house because of the reputation athletes have left on the landlords off campus.

but because rafe was the one who worked so hard on getting the house, and because he’s the team captain, he got the biggest and best room, ensuite attached.

it’s in the top floor. it’s quiet. it gets the best ac. but no amount of ac can make the sickening heat of the hangover he has this morning any better.

he finally opens his eyes. she’s not beside him. if he remembers correctly, he asked her to sleep over last night. and… goddamn it, he called her his girlfriend.

there’s a good chance he scared her away. they’re best friends who hook up sometimes. that’s it. no matter how much his teammates - at least the ones who have the balls to - fuck with him about it.

a few nights ago, a girl struck up conversation with rafe at a party and one of his buddies told her not to bother because ‘he’s basically married’ and the crazy thing is, he let her believe it. he hasn’t hooked up with another girl in ages. he hasn’t wanted to.

it got to him. maybe that’s why he slipped up last night, calling her his girlfriend. if he remembers right, it’s like they agreed to being something more in a roundabout, drunken way. or maybe she was just humoring him and is planning to let him down easy when they’re both sober.

she’s in the kitchen, wearing one of rafe’s shirts, cutting up what little fruit the guys have lying around. the blender was a bitch to clean, tacked with residual protein powder.

she’s awake before everyone, making rafe a smoothie to help cure his hangover. this is 100% girlfriend behavior. she’s doing the absolute most. she knows that.

she tells herself it’s because they’re best friends. she’d do the same for any other friend. but doing it for rafe feels so much more gratifying than if she did it for anyone else.

as she drops banana slices into the blender, she thinks about the regret that washed over rafe’s face last night.

she wonders why he so obviously wished he hadn’t called her his girlfriend. was it because he accidentally exposed what he really thinks of her? or because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea?

she blends the smoothie, cleans up and pads upstairs to rafe’s bedroom. when she opens the door, he’s sprawled out on his bed, down to his boxers, the duvet half-covering his body.

she’s seen him naked so many times before. but this weirdly feels like it’s the most intimate they’ve ever been.

“did you take my clothes off last night?” rafe grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.

“somehow,” she answers. “i fell on my ass trying to pull your jeans off.”

“oh, yeah,” he laughs. he heard her fall to the floor in the dark. it was hilarious. but then he clutches his head. even laughing hurts. “fuck.”

“imagine how bad you’d feel if i didn’t force water on you last night. you’re welcome, by the way,” she says.

she places the glass on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, glad she only had a couple of drinks last night.

“i made you a smoothie. you need to replenish.”

his tired blue eyes finally land on her. he takes her in, the way her brows are knitted in concern, the way she looks in his shirt.

“and your blender was disgusting,” she adds. “it’s pretty sad that a whole group of grown men don’t know how to properly wash dishes. it took me forever to clean it.”

“you’re talking too much,” he rasps, massaging his temple with his thumb.

normally, she’d tease him back. she knows he’s joking. but the joke doesn’t land. she looks away.

in the sober brightness of the morning, she realizes she feels stupid. they agreed they were just friends, but she’s playing house and acting like a girlfriend to someone who either doesn’t want her like that, or does and won’t admit to it when he’s not drunk.

she doesn’t mind taking care of him. but she’s catching feelings. how can she be friends with someone when every second that passes that they’re not more than that feels like a little dose of rejection?

they’ve always been direct with each other. at some point, that stopped. at least on her side.

“i’m fucking with you,” rafe clarifies. “thank you.”

she scoffs. he hardly ever has manners. she must really look mad.

“sure,” she says. she leans forward, picking up and handing him the smoothie, knowing he’s too tired to get it himself. “do you remember what you said last night?”

rafe’s eyes dart away. he rakes back his tousled hair, sitting up slowly to hold the smoothie. tortuously slow, he takes a sip, making her wait for his answer.

“what’d i say?” he mumbles.

she tilts her head, her lips in a firm line. he said he wouldn’t be embarrassed the next day. he’s acting like he is now, though. or maybe he really doesn’t remember.

she suddenly feels bad for pushing this heavy of a conversation on him when he’s clearly exhausted and feeling so terrible.

“we’ll talk about it later,” she says. it gives rafe a wave of anxiety. maybe she’s planning to let him down gently. to tell him they can’t be more than friends. “hydrate, got it?”

she stands, pulling his shirt off over her head.

“where are you going?” he asks, watching her bend over to pick up last night’s clothes.

“home,” she says. “text me if you wanna hang out later when you feel human again.”

she leaves. he lets her.

he’s in a funk the rest of the morning. he eventually finds the strength to take a shower. he eats his first meal at three p.m.

when he sees the blender on the drying rack in the kitchen, his chest tightens. this isn’t normal. he shouldn’t miss someone he saw just this morning. but he does.

and whatever happened last night is hanging over him. if he knows her, he knows it’s bothering her, too.

he texts her: feeling human again. u busy?

she replies: i’m free and starving.

he smirks at his phone. pick you up in 30

when she sinks into the passenger seat of his suv, she’s uneasy. jittery. as if this is a first date. but when she takes in how tense he looks, she pushes all her feelings away.

“what’s wrong?” she asks. “you good?”

“i’m… this feels weird,” he admits. she stills. so it’s not just her who senses it.

“weird how?”

“what do you wanna eat?” he asks. “where am i going?”

“you’re staying here until you tell me what’s up.”

rafe chews on his lip. he turns his key, shutting the car off, parked in front of her dorm building. he knows there’s no point in arguing with her. she can be stubborn.

“weird how?” she repeats.

“like… i’m nervous or something.”

rafe has known for a while now that he’s someone else around her. or maybe he’s actually himself, and she’s the only person who coaxes it out of him.

“nervous?” she echoes. rafe is only ever nervous before an important game, and even then, he’s more hyped up to win than anything.

he can’t take it anymore. he’d rather rip off the bandaid.

“be straight with me,” he says. “what’d i say that you wanted to talk about?”

she can’t recall the last time she felt so shy around him, if ever.

“do you remember calling me your girlfriend?” she says.

he shuffles in his seat, expelling a heavy breath.

“if i fucked things up, just say it,” he rasps.

“so, you remember?”

“yeah.”

“do you remember how you said you wouldn’t be embarrassed for saying it?”

“yeah,” he mutters sharply. “can you get to the point?”

“can you not be a dick right now?” she says.

he sighs. can’t she tell he’s anxious?

“are you?” she says. “embarrassed, i mean?”

“no,” rafe begins. “i’m annoyed that i said it. it made things awkward.”

“it did,” she agrees.

“okay,” he huffs. “so what now?”

she clasps her hands together in her lap, looking out at the side mirror. she could just say they can forget about it. grab takeout. go back to normal. but going back to normal kind of feels impossible.

“my friends always tell me we act like a couple,” she finally says. “this morning, i was washing your dishes and organizing your fridge and i thought, they’re right. this is the kind of stuff a girl in a relationship does. but then i was like, no it’s not like that. we’re just best friends. but then last night... you said you’d be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” he says, bracing for the rejection. the let’s just be friends. or worse, the things are too weird now and we should probably stop hanging out.

she swallows hard.

“i wanted to know if… did something change? were you just drunk or do you actually want to…” she trails off.

for once, it feels odd saying her thoughts out loud to him. because he was always as adamant about not wanting commitment as she was. things have gotten so messy all because he blurted something out last night.

rafe stares at her profile as she looks out the window. she’d fiddling impatiently, like she was the night they first talked at the bar months ago, waiting for someone to take her drink order.

“the guys mess with me about it, too,” he tells her. “they say we act like we’re married or some shit.”

she quirks her eyebrows. they basically do. they see each other almost every day. they bicker. they’re constantly subconsciously touching, whether it’s through joined hands or bumped knees. they have too many inside jokes. they take care of each other. she reminds him of things he can’t afford to forget, like appointments or exams. he makes sure she eats and he pays for everything they do together.

“i don’t look at other girls,” he confesses. “and i know you get hit on when you go out, but it never goes anywhere. i… okay, yeah, fine, something did change at some point. i don’t know when.”

for the first time since she got in the car, she cracks a smile. they’re best friends who are ridiculously attracted to each other and joined at the hip. if that’s not a relationship, what is?

“are we already kind of dating?” she says, finally meeting his eyes.

rafe breathes a chuckle, the heaviness in his chest lifting all at once.

everything was always so easy with her. he assumed it’s because they had no expectations between them. but that wasn’t it. in reality, they had been quietly meeting each other’s expectations without having to try.

“yeah. we are,” he says.

her eyelids flutter as she looks down, gazing at his hand splayed over the dark denim on his thigh. her stomach is numb. her mind is buzzing.

“how’d you get so lucky?” she teases.

rafe doesn’t even have it in him to joke back. he needs to touch her. he leans forward, cradling her jaw, capturing her lips in his.

they’ve kissed a thousand times before. but never like this. this is a kiss that says there’s an understanding that she’s his and he’s hers. and maybe it took them a while to realize that, but now that they’re here, they’re not going back.

(continuation)

[swee7dream]

hi vixy! i miss you sm 😞🫶 being here is just not the same when i'm not interacting w/ you (ノ_＜。) and im here in your inbox for a request!

remember when i always gush about your use of endearments? atm, im craving for a hc fic of 7dreamies using their favorite endearment/petname/nickname for reader >< i absolutely think that they have their own ways and the oddest yet the most endearing nicknames for their special ppl and i think about it everytime i read your fics bcuz there is that kind of spice of it in your works (*^-^) and i love it ^^

i hope you're doing well, love! have a great day (人´ｴ`*)♪

xoxo, wynnie.

7dream's nicknames for their partners nct dream x f!reader

genres fluff, established relationship warnings feminine pet names used, quasi-suggestive but not really ( renjun ) author's note omg not the love letter in my inbox !!! love u 5ever wynnie . sorry the bulletpoints are kinda short, i tried to make up for it in the mini-fics ! ty for the request + i hope u like it !

mark lee (ᓀ‸ᓂ)

a very simple, casual guy

babe, dude (romantically), my girl

he can’t even tease you when you tell him it gives you butterflies because he’s the exact same way, giggling into his hand and turning away to hide his silly grin from you

call him dude though? he’ll be sulky until the next day (as if, he melts into a puddle with just one kiss)

“dude,” mark calls out from the hallway, still unsure where everything is still, being your first sleepover. “have you seen my charger? i don’t know where i left it.” “i dunno, man. you should ask your girlfriend.” “wow…” he extends the word in between laughter. he shuffles in his slides back into the bedroom, doubling over your body laying comfortably under sheets. “you are my girlfriend.” “nuh-uh. i’m your dude. your bro. your homeslice.” you over-emphasize the last word, flicking your tongue like a snake. “more like my homewife.” he giggles, reaching up to peck your lips. “that was terrible.” “come on! that’s worth at least half a point.” “negative eight thousand points.”

huang renjun ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა

my love, darling, sweetheart

in my heart of hearts i view huang renjun as the definition of a romantic

maybe he won’t have diamond necklaces for you every date night, but he always makes sure to show his love in the small, important things

he has your favorite snack for when you get home, changes the bedsheets when you forget to, and refills the soap bottles in the bathroom before you even notice you’re running low

“you took care of the dishes.” renjun jumps in his seat, not even hearing when you came in. “i did.” he turns from his canvas to look at you, smiling as you’re already wrapping your arms around his waist. “how was your day, my love?” “exhausting. you are the sexiest man alive, you know that?” you mumble into his hair. “for washing dishes?” “so hot.” you nod, squeezing him tighter. “gee, thanks,” he chuckles, reaching a hand up to scratch your head. “how about a bath? wash away all that exhaustion.” “join me?” you pout. “of course, darling.”

lee jeno ૮ .◜◡◝ა

doll, baby, babydoll

you are a living, breathing doll to him and everyone needs to know!!!!!

he forgets he’s literally mr. ferragamo sometimes and just stares at you with super heart eyes like:

wow (ෆ人ෆ) that’s my baby

“what about this one?” you spin in to give jeno a 360. “i really liked it in the store but i’m not so sure about it now.” “you’re the prettiest girl ever, doll.” jeno sits with his legs spread, his hands in the middle holding the edge of the chair he sits on. “pretty, pretty, pretty.” “thank you, jen.” you look at him. “but i’m asking about the clothes. i don’t know if this shade suits me! or maybe it’s the texture of the clothes? actually, it might be the material.” “everything suits you. if it doesn’t, it’s because the designer was stupid. you’re the pinnacle of fashion, babydoll.” “you’re silly.” you giggle, walking toward him to dig your fingers into the back of his hair. “you don’t think i should return it?” “absolutely not. you look great in red, baby.” “this is white, jen.” “whatever. gimme a kiss.”

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ

baby, sunshine, sweetheart (derogatory)

outsiders looking in eavesdropping on your conversations don’t know if you’re about to bite each other heads off or make out against the wall

what else could you expect from haechan ‘dating is so boring, let's be best friend and act like in a relationship’ lee

you feel a dark energy looming over your shoulder, as you often have since saying yes to your first date with hyuck. you continue to feel it as your card taps on the reader, beeping happily at the successful payment, unaware of the incoming chaos. “oh heck yeah! thanks for the food, sis!” haechan’s hand sneaks around to hold the back of your head, pulling you into a deep kiss. he only squeals like an anime girl as your hands slide up to push him away and turn to the cashier, apologizing profusely and failing to convince them that you’re not, in fact, related. “thanks for treating me, sweetheart.” “hey siri, search shooting ranges near me.” “wait, baby no-”

na jaemin ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

lovey, princess, my muse

fun fact: he loves being called prince. having matchy matchy names makes his heart full and gives his life purpose (his words)

i put those three down but honestly, it really depends on the day. he’s constantly making new ones every single hour

he sees you in the flowers growing in the cracks in the sidewalk (‘petal’), in the songs of the birds outside (‘birdy’), in that one painting he saw back in a museum in italy (‘angel’)

“oh wait, i like these!” you swipe through some candid photos jaemin took of you of a trip you two took a while back on his phone. “how come you didn’t send me these?” “if i sent you every picture i took of you you would think i’m a crazed stalker.” “i know you are and i still love you.” you smile at him before turning back to the phone screen. “urgh. you’re always changing my name in your contacts. what is it now?” “munchy.” “munchy?” you stare at him with your eyes furrowed, having turned in slow motion as if you heard him wrong. “that was the name of one of the tortoises we saw at the zoo. he was so cute. it reminded me of you when you eat pasta. so you’re munchy.” “…okay, jaem. thanks, i think.”

zhong chenle (ᯟ︿ᯏ)

babe, dollface, beautiful

surprisingly, not a big petname user. not at first at least

but one time he clocked you getting pouty and in your head and learned that you liked being called sweet things other than your name.

“what’s wrong with your name? i like your name, dollface.” you can see something switch inside of his mind. “mmm, okay. i’ll try.”

“i miss you…” even through the phone, chenle can’t help but smile at your voice. “please don’t die.” “i’m at the grocery store for ice cream you asked for, dollface. i’m not gonna die.” “what if you get hit by a car?” you sniffle, hormones overwhelming you. “i’ll survive.” “how do you know?” “i just do. you should know by now i’m superman, babe.” “fly home, le. wanna cuddle.” “don’t threaten me with a good time.” he chuckles, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he places your ice cream—and a couple other things he thought you might appreciate—on the counter to be rung up. “stay put, beautiful. i’m coming.”

park jisung (∩˃o˂∩)

babe, dude, pretty (used EXCLUSIVELY behind closed doors)

bro gets embarrassed just breathing air, you think he’s gonna have the guts to be cheesy with you in public?

even calling you babe in public has him with his voice lowered.

it’s really counteractive considering being so shy about things brings only more attention to him from his friends

“could you pass me my phone?” jisung’s request flies over your head as the group conversation is alive and well around you. “babe,” he mutters, finally getting your attention. “can you pass me my phone?” in good 7dream fashion, all the boys ‘ooh’ at him, haechan and mark fangirling obnoxiously. “baby darling sugarplum angelface!” donghyuck mocks, laughing at jisung holding his head in his hands, being consoled by your rubbing his back. “could you pass me my phone, my darling sweetheart pookiebear cupcake?”

author's note i fear i'm running out of themes for fic headers !!!!! why was i not blessed with the moodboard bone all my other lovely mutuals have D:

[pombeom]

no escape from you | beomgyu fic (part 1)

pairings: enemies to ??, roommate! beomgyu x reader

warnings: suggestive content

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for days but i finally wrote it the way i want. might make this a series with smut in the next chapter so keep a lookout 👀 (not proof read)

You were the responsible one between you and your roommate. You always kept things clean, even picking up after his dirty dishes. But being his partner for a paired project was not what you signed up for. Gambling your grade and trying to work with him? Not a chance. 

When are you free? We really need to start our presentation! 

Your frantic spamming of texts went straight to delivered and were probably not going to be read for another 24 hours at least. You would think that being assigned to do a presentation with someone who was quite literally your roommate would be a breeze, but with Beomgyu never being around, the task seemed impossible. You hated the guts of this guy but you were willing to work through it for the sake of your grade. Well that’s only if he comes backs to your shared dorm before the end of the fucking day. Your sleep schedule awaits no one. 

Sat at the kitchen table, you spend the next 3 hours researching for parts of your presentation knowing that it’s probably be easier to start it off without Beomgyu. Scrolling through websites and watching videos on the topic, you write down the notes in your notebook but eventually, without meaning to, your eyes slam shut, falling alseep in your folded arms which rest on the table. 

A lock clicks as the door screeches open. At the early hours of the morning, you are awakened by your drunk roommate. You jolt your eyes open upon hearing the noise of his shoes, his footsteps uneven, indicating his intoxicated state. Anger bubbles in you as you turn sharply to face Beomgyu, giving him an intense glare which he meets with his half open eyes, appearing to be laughing at you. 

“Aww, did you wait up for me, sweetheart,” he taunts, knowing how much you hate the stupid nicknames he gives you on purpose. 

“No. In fact, I fell alseep trying to finish our fucking presentation which is due in fucking 2 days! Do you know how many times I called and texted?” Your tone came out harsh and direct which in some ways was exactly what you were going for but more so, you just wanted to get your point across. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was out.” 

“I can see that. And stop calling me “sweetheart”. It sounds so fucking stupid. I have a name and that’s what I’d like to be called.”   

He inches closer to you, stumbling a little, grabbing onto your arms for support. His grip is gentle but firm, cautious to hold tight but not to hurt you.  

“Listen sweetheart, if you’re gonna yell at me at least do it when you’re not dressed like this. I can’t help but get a little turned on.” 

“Fuck you!” You turn a shade of crimson as you feel a sense of angry embarrassment. Your slip dress was short and the low cut did nothing but show off your cleavage to Beomgyu who towered over you, getting a clear view of your chest. 

“Well if that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’m down. But maybe tomorrow or something. I’m tired right now.” He smirks, saying goodbye with a two finger salute. 

With that, he makes his way to his own room, leaving you filled with a cloud of confusion and unease. He may have been joking but his words made your stomach flutter, carrying and intense heat throughout your body. 

I really need to go to bed. 

————————————————————————

Getting approximately 4 hours of sleep last night had you waking up on the wrong side of bed. You were cranky beyond help and your mood only depleted when you saw Beomgyu sitting at the kitchen table, munching away at his cereal. 

“Good morning sleepyhead, get a good night of rest?,” his remark was sarcastic, almost shaming you for your evidently tired appearance. 

“Beomgyu please. It’s too early in the morning to be arguing with you.” 

“As you wish.” 

You joined him at the table, grabbing yourself some fruit and toast and you both continued to eat in silence. The air was stiff as you could feel Beomgyu constantly looking up from his bowl to stare into your face whilst you desperately attempted to avoid looking in the same direction to prevent any accidental eye contact. 

Why was he being so intense today?

As you finish your last bite, a wave of relief washes over you as you quickly get up and head over to the sink, washing up your plate before you feel a presence behind you. Beomgyu’s chest came in direct contact with your back sending a flush of pink straight to your cheeks. You tried to move away but his arms caged you. You could hear his breath against your ear, leaving a tingling sensation on your sensitive skin. 

“You know my offer from last night still stands. If you’re up for it,” his whispers send you into a frenzy and you turn around faster than the speed of light almost challenging him as you look up to his face. 

“Listen to me Choi Beomgyu. You have no right to speak to me like that. Nothing of the sort will ever happen. Do. You. Understand?” Your voice was firm and confident, concealing any embarrassment you felt earlier. 

“Shit. That was kinda hot, sweetheart.” He places his hands over yours which had somehow made his way up his chest, grabbing ahold of his white t-shirt. “Now, we have a class to get to. Wouldn’t want to be late now would we?” 

The realisation struck harder than lightning as you jolt you eyes over to the clock, knowing you had a little over 7 minutes to make it to your class. If you ran. 

You push Beomgyu away and grab your bag and slip on your shoes by the door and dash out the door, without care for your roommate who was also in the same class. 

“Hey, wait for me!” His voice yells from behind you, almost catching up. 

“Beomgyu, I really don’t have the time for this right now. I’m gonna be late.” 

“I know a shortcut. Follow me.” He grabs ahold of your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction from the one you’re used to. What started off as speed walking had evolved into a sprint as you’re left huffing and puffing trying to match the strides of his long legs. 

Within minutes you arrive at the door of your lecture theatre, astounded that you made it on time. As you both walked in, still clutching hands, you quickly noticed the limited seats available. Almost every row was full apart from 2 seats on the furthest end of the 7th row on the left. 

“There,” Beomgyu points, upon identifying the seats, ”Guess we’re sitting together today.” He sounded rather pleased, the corners of his mouth lifting to display his smug expression. 

“Brilliant. Sooo excited,” you sneered, ensuring that the sarcasm in your tone was conveyed as you squeezed past the entire row, making your way to the end, as Beomgyu takes a seat to your right. 

“You better be, sweetheart.” 

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship content. married with named children. fluff.

Izuku has been pacing around the kitchen for the past five minutes, and you, devilish as you are, are pretending not to notice, content with your late night snack of hot chocolate and lightly buttered bread.

The kids are all asleep, or at the very least turned in for the night, and things have been overall peaceful in the Midoriya household for the past few days, so whatever has your husband in distress is unlikely to be that bad. Additionally, he has an expression he makes when the situation is more embarrassing than dire, and that's written all over his face at the moment.

You bite into a particularly crunchy part of the bread and the sound appears to echo - Izuku looks at you and you return his gaze with your mouth full, blinking innocently, then burst out laughing when he frowns.

"Fine, I'll bite. What's wrong, baby?" you ask.

Izuku stops pacing then stands still facing you, one arm crossed over his chest and his other hand balled into a fist under his chin.

"Did you know Izumi had a crush on..." his voice was already hushed, but now it falls into a barely audible whisper, "... Ami?"

You blink. That's all? you wonder.

"Well, yeah..." you reply. "He's uh... been like that since he was 8?"

"What?!"

Izuku looks betrayed for a moment, then moves over to you quickly, pulling out a chair to plop down on.

"Okay, but his sketchbook is literally filled with portraits of just her!"

You drink the last of your hot cocoa, then smile at him, resting your hand on his wrist posed on the table.

"Sounds like his dad."

Izuku turns pink at the ears, but then he shakes his head, trying to focus.

"It's not the same!"

You sigh. "Are they tasteful at least? They seemed fine when I saw them."

Izuku's mouth opens and closes quickly. "W-What do you mean tasteful?"

"I mean he is 15."

"___! They're okay, he's not a pervert!"

You tilt your head to the side. "Exactly, so what's the problem?"

Izuku looks at you with incredulity, shocked by your unbothered manner. "You know, perhaps the 10 year age difference??" Izuku starts. "What if he gets his heart broken? It's not like it can happen!"

You take another long look at him, then laugh again.

"Don't burst a blood vessel, it's just puppy love. He'll get over it."

"I didn't get over my first crush!"

"... Honey, how old do you think I am?" you ask. He sighs then sidesteps your statement, knowing he sounds ridiculous, then presses his head against the table. You push your plate and mug aside now, then take his fingers in yours, and he turns his head to the side to look up at you.

"You know, it's not weird for your teenage son to have a crush on a pretty girl, especially when she was his babysitter most of his life. It's harmless."

Izuku frowns.

"It's not weird I promise. Plus, it won't last." With that last part you lean just a bit closer to whisper, "I heard him on the phone with someone else, he has a crush on another person in his class right now, which I also know because he actually starts caring if I iron his shirts for school."

Izuku seems briefly relieved, then again bothered by this additional info.

"Why doesn't he tell me anything?" he asks.

"Teenagers don't tell anyone anything, don't worry about it." You say, squeezing his fingers. He gives you a half-smile, then you decide to change the subject.

"By the way, Atsuna needs to get stuff for cheerleading, so you can you take her tomorrow? I have some errands I need to run."

"Cheerleading? When did she start cheerleading?"

Izuku looks genuinely dumbfounded, following you as you get up to put your dish away.

"Two weeks ago." You snap your fingers. "I need you to keep up."

He pouts, and you actually feel a little bad.

"I'm kidding," you insist, but the damage is already done. You lead him back to a seat in the kitchen, and he frowns again, tapping his foot anxiously as he sits.

"I'm a shit father," he mumbles, and your heart aches for just a moment. You shake your head then cup his face in your hands. Izuku looks at you and you soften then kiss him.

"No way. You're just doing a ton at once right now. Let me take care of things for now, and then we'll catch up this weekend, okay?"

His hands circle around your wrists, and he's not completely convinced but he nods.

"You do such a great job, I wanna pull my weight," he murmurs and kisses you again. You let his kisses warm you more than the cocoa and press your forehead against his.

"You pull yours too, baby. We can't give 100% to everything all the time so I'll cover you and you cover me, okay?"

He nods.

"Thank you," he adds. You move out of your seat into his lap, and caress the side of his chin, feeling the roughness of his unshaven face, tired but still handsome.

"I'm taking more days off," he promises.

"You don't have to," you insist.

"I don't have to, but I want to."

You laugh but it's just a breath through your nose, and press yourself closer to him so that your face buries into his chest.

"#1 Pro Hero wants more days off so he can give his son the Talk? That will go over well with the Hero Commission."

Your sarcasm hits a little too close to home but he gently grips your fingers again and pulls them to his mouth, kissing the finger tips.

"Izuku, your husband and the father of your kids, wants to spend more time with the beautiful woman he married and the children he helped create," he states. You look into his eyes and he looks determined to make a change and you smile, accepting his resolve.

"Thank you."

---

Your phone rings in the late evening on Sunday, and you can't help but be amused as you pick up. The second you say hello, you can already hear screaming on the other end of the line.

"Is there a reason Deku is suddenly off the patrol schedule for an entire month?!"

You stifle a laugh.

"Why don't you ask him, Kacchan?" Calling his name like your husband does only serves to aggravate him more.

"Very funny. Tell him to pick up the fucking phone."

You glance over at your husband who is busy helping your youngest daughter, Ai, braid her hair down for bed in the living room. Ai holds a mirror and tells him where to part her curls, and Izuku's tongue sticks out as he tries the style on the video on the TV screen. Despite his slight confusion, he looks happy as Ai observes his work and gives him plentiful encouragement.

"When he's no longer busy. Bye! Hug the wife and kids for me!" you say cheerfully as you hang up.

[sunshinesteviee]

and they were roommates - s.h.

summary: from the prompt "we hosted a party for our friends last night and somehow we ended up making out and now it’s the next morning and we’re cleaning the apartment together and I can’t stop thinking about it" wc: 1.5k warnings: lots of overthinking and a flustered steve, but that's about it lol a/n: originally requested as a blurb that i got carried away with; i hope you like it!! sorry for the stupid title LOL

my masterlist

It’s unusually quiet in your apartment for a weekend morning where both you and Steve are home. The radio is on, playing the current pop hits, but it’s not enough to distract you from the distinct lack of conversation. If you wanted, you could probably chalk it up to the headache you were experiencing from your drinking last night, and assume Steve was feeling the same. And you tried, you really did. But you knew that wasn’t the cause of the silence filling your apartment. 

Last night, you and Steve had had all of your friends over to unwind and hang out. There’d been lots of alcohol, and you’d ended up drinking way more than you’d planned to. Your drunk decisions were never your best ones, but you’d really outdone yourself last night. The stupid decision had almost been forgotten until you rolled over in bed to find Steve next to you, his perfect lips parted as he slept soundly. It wasn’t exactly abnormal to wake up next to him, especially after a night of drinking, but nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Until last night. 

You hadn’t done anything more than kiss — albeit quite… passionately — but Steve's one of your best friends, as well as your roommate, and a drunken kiss had the potential to ruin everything. Especially since there’d always been an unspoken tension between you, at least from your perspective, but you’d resolved to ignore it in hopes of it disappearing. Clearly, it hadn’t quite worked. 

After silently panicking, you’d scrambled out of bed and escaped to the kitchen, busying yourself with making breakfast. Steve had stumbled out of your room into the kitchen not long later, but was still half asleep as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, slumped over the counter as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. Maybe he didn’t remember. 

At the time, you’d told yourself it was probably good if he didn’t remember. But now, as you silently clean the apartment together, you’re not so sure. Would it hurt more if he really didn’t remember the kiss, or if he was just pretending he didn’t? Sure, you’d both been drunk, but it would be a lie to say you’d never considered the possibility, so the thought of it meaning nothing to Steve nearly eats you alive. 

Empty beer bottles and cans clink loudly as you toss them into the garbage bag you’re holding. It’s louder than it needs to be, but you’re trying to focus on cleaning, on the noise; anything to keep your mind from wandering back to Steve and the kiss you’d shared. Because the images of your kiss flash in your mind, of Steve’s hands on your waist, soft lips pressing to yours, do nothing to stop your racing heart. 

You can’t believe he hasn’t said anything, but then again, neither have you. Just the thought of mentioning it makes you flustered, and you’re not sure you can face him without feeling like you’re going to burst into flames, but you have to go back into the kitchen where Steve is washing the dishes that had been left out overnight. 

Steve is humming along to the song playing over the radio when you walk into the kitchen, and only glances up from the dishes for a moment to flash you his perfect smile when the sound of the bag of garbage you’re carrying betrays you. You manage to return the smile — though you’re sure it’s awkward and unconvincing — as you make your way across the kitchen to dump the bag into the bin. He’s still not saying anything, and you’re still not sure how to feel about all of it. Realistically, you know you should really talk about everything that had happened, even if it was just a one-time, drunken make out. You just can’t quite get yourself to do it, though, and chicken out of saying anything as you dart out of the kitchen and up to your room. 

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you grab your phone and dial a number you know by heart. Robin knows both you and Steve better than anyone else; surely she’ll know what you should do. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and finally she picks up with a grumbled, “Hello?”

“Hey, Robs. Did I wake you?” It’s nearly noon, but Robin’s night had been similar to yours — without all of the kissing, of course. 

She huffs, and you can hear rustling from the other side of the phone as she shifts in bed, “Yeah, but it’s fine; need to get up anyway before my mom starts telling me about the dangers of drinking again. Like I drink all the time or something. Anyway, what’s up?”

Suddenly the butterflies are back, fluttering in your chest, as you rub your free hand over your face, “Do you, uh… Do you remember anything that happened last night? I dunno how drunk you were but—“

Robin is quick to cut you off, “If you’re talking about you and Steve sucking face, yeah I remember that.”

You groan in embarrassment, face and chest filling with heat as you whine into the phone, “Jesus, Robin. Do you have to say it like that?”

“Well! That’s what it was! What would you call it?”

“I dunno, anything but that! But that’s not— I called ‘cause… We haven’t talked about it. I don’t know if he even remembers or—“

A scoff cuts you off again and you can practically hear Robin’s eye roll, “Holy shit, can you just talk to each other please? I’m too hungover for this and Steve’s already called me about it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, at like four in the morning. It was freaking ridiculous. He said he’d talk to you. I think. I don’t really know, I was half asleep.”

Something like hope stirs in you as you thank Robin and apologize again for waking her up before you hang up. A call in the middle of the night could be good or bad, but Robin hadn’t made it sound like it was anything bad. She’s known about your crush on Steve, going so far as to insist that the feeling is almost definitely mutual, but you’ve never had the courage to make a move. You know it’s now or never. 

Opening your door, you run straight into Steve’s chest with a muffled ‘oof!’ His hand is raised, as if he had just been about to knock, but his arm quickly curls around your shoulders to steady you, “Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Your own apologies spill out at the same time, “Shit, sorry! I didn’t know you—“

Nervous laughter erupts from both of you, easing some of the awkward silence as Steve takes a step back. He looks a little nervous, with pink cheeks and wide eyes, which is strange for Steve. Lifting a hand, he scratches the nape of his neck for a moment and then murmurs, “I was just— thought we should talk and…” He trails off, eyes darting to the floor and back up to you before he blurts out, “I remember.”

“You do?” is all you can think to ask, sounding much more eager than you want to.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, a ragged sound as your breath catches in your throat. “Is that… is that a good thing?”

Steve laughs, a sound of adoration, as his cheeks flush again, a dark pink underneath his pretty freckles and moles. He lifts a hand, fingers tugging at his messy hair, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “Um. I mean, I think so. If you also think it’s good. Unless you regret it, and in that case, we can totally forget it happened and—“

“Steve,” you say his name quickly to cut him off, the corners of your lips pulling up slightly as he stops mid-sentence. 

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath, and then just go for it, “I don’t regret it at all. I really… I really like you, Steve.”

“Oh. That’s— yeah, that’s good. Can I kiss you again? Since we’re, ya know, less drunk.” 

When you nod, a little dumbstruck, Steve wastes no time in cradling your face in his hands as he steps in closer to you. His hands are warm against your skin, thumbs brushing out over your cheekbones as he gently tilts your face up towards his. His eyes flick to yours for a second, and then he’s kissing you. 

This kiss is more delicate than the one you’d shared last night, though his lips are just as soft as you remember. He tastes less like alcohol this time, thankfully, and more like the fruity pebbles he’d eaten for breakfast, and maybe a hint of his minty toothpaste. You can’t help but melt into him, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close. 

You accidentally let out a small noise of disappointment when Steve finally pulls back that makes him laugh, the tip of his nose nudging into the softness of your cheek. His lips brush over the corner of yours once more as he murmurs, “Thank god you let me kiss you again. I’d never have survived off of what I remember from last night.” 

“You can kiss me any time you want, Steve.”

thanks for reading ilysm <3333

[syrupfog]

Sanji who just wants a job as a sous chef but has yet to be hired, but has somehow managed to enter the world of being a private chef for extremely wealthy families. 

He hates them they remind him of childhood but he needs the cash. 

He starts working for Mihawk.

Mihawk who only eats odd, simple foods. Things that Sanji feels insulted to make. A LOT of toast with cream cheese and jam, honestly. 

Sanji’s bored out of his mind (he starts canning the fruit from Mihawk’s garden to pass the time)

Then one day, bursting through the front door come two people his own age, a woman with pink hair and a man with green, DEMANDING to know why Mihawk moved without TELLING THEM, HIS OWN CHILDREN

Sanji immediately pegs them for stuck up assholes. He’s grown to respect Mihawk, at least (he’s better than the Charlottes were). Spoiled rich adult kids who expect their lifestyles to be funded. Ugh. 

Mihawk blinks and says that he DID tell them.

There’s a lot more shouting as Sanji quietly pickles beets in the background. They come to some sort of truce around the idea that Zoro (the green haired one) lost his phone, and Perona (pink hair) blocked his number after Mihawk called at 2am about his yams.

They’re good yams, Sanji thinks. 

He also learns that they were on a “road trip of self discovery”. He’s not sure what that means. It sounds like rich kid speak for “spending spree”.

They integrate into the household though and, after being introduced to Sanji, Perona demands pink. Anything strawberry. 

Zoro says he’ll eat anything. Sanji doubts that. 

He tests it. 

He makes extravagant dishes. 

Zoro doesn’t seem to even notice, eating without complaint.

Honestly it’s good practice. He uses it as an excuse to get back into the hang of the fanciest things Zeff taught. 

But he still doesn’t like them. Rich assholes. Mihawk’s simple toasts get him a pass.

One thing about Zoro though is that he seems to spend all his time working out, so he comes looking for food at the ODDEST times. And SOMETIMES Sanji is ASLEEP. He’s got a room in the old servants’ quarters and Zoro will appear at any hour.

After the third time being awoken at 2am, Sanji snaps. 

“I’m preparing you a fucking shelf full of onigiri,” he says, pointing with a judgmental finger at Zoro’s chest. “That’s going to be your midnight snack from now on! Some of us need our beauty rest!”

Zoro blinks down at the finger. “Okay,” he says. “I mean. You clearly need it.” 

Sanji scoffs in outrage. He’s still half asleep. He aims a kick at Zoro’s head before he can process his one rule (“don’t hurt clients”). 

Zoro dodges. 

His face breaks out into a grin.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Curls,” he says. 

Sanji stumbles. He regains his footing and stomps down the hall, face aflame. 

He makes thirty onigiri. 

Zoro eats seven. 

“There, that’ll last you three more nights,” Sanji says.

Zoro nods. “So what time do I wake you up to get you to fight me again?” 

Sanji splutters. “No!!” He shrieks. “It’s three in the morning! I know you’re a rich fuck with nothing to do but some of us have jobs! I’m on call 24/7 here!” 

…he regrets it as soon as he says it.

Expects to be fired on the spot. 

Zoro frowns. He crosses his arms. “Fine,” he says, tersely. “Go to bed.” 

Sanji… does. He avoids turning his back on Zoro as he leaves the room, a bad feeling churning in his gut.

When he makes breakfast the next morning, he’s expecting to be fired as soon as Mihawk arrives, but Mihawk mentions nothing. 

Neither do Perona or Zoro when they appear, hours later. 

Sanji feels like he’s walking on eggshells until Zoro appears in his kitchen in early afternoon.

“Hey,” says Zoro. “I talked to my dad.” 

Sanji hangs his head. “So I’m fired?” He asks, dread pooling in his stomach. 

“Fucking what? No, Jesus. I just said you should have a regular work shift. Only like, ten hours on call.” 

“So you docked my pay,” Sanji says flatly.

“Now you’re being an ass,” Zoro growls. “NO, you’re being paid the same, you’re just going to have time off when I can’t bug you. That cool?” 

Sanji frowns, suspicious. “What do you get out of it?” He asks. 

Crossing his arms, Zoro scoffs. “Not getting yelled at at 2am, mostly.”

“You could’ve just not woken me up,” Sanji says. 

“You make it real hard to be nice to you, Cook,” Zoro says, running a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t like me, but I was just trying to do something nice.” 

Sanji melts a little, but he’s not willing to give in entirely. “Well thanks,” he says. “For not firing me, too.” 

Zoro rolls his eyes. “We’ve all had shitty jobs where we want to yell at customers,” He says. 

“Now I KNOW you’re lying,” Sanji argues. “I know how rich you are. I know what Mihawk pays me.”

Zoro looks… funny at him. “Did he ever happen to mention that we’re adopted?” 

Sanji blinks. Thinks of Zeff. “Uh, no?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “Fucking Daddy Warbucks situation. I was seventeen. Trust me, I know customer service. Had to work to eat.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Sanji says. “Now I feel like a fucking ass.” 

“You ARE a fucking ass,” Zoro says. “Want to fight when you’re off work? Officially your shift ends at 6 now.” 

“Dinner is for seven so that won’t work.” Sanji says. “Shut up I have a chef’s integrity.”

“You’re not turning down fighting me?” Zoro asks, sounding oddly hopeful. 

“You spend all day working out so it’ll be unfair,” Sanji says. “But sure, I’ll kick your ass. Winner chooses what filling goes in your onigiri.” 

“Spicy salmon,” Zoro says. 

“Pickled plums,” muses Sanji.

They do end up fighting after dinner, out in Mihawk’s fancy topiary garden (he maintains it himself). 

Bruised and panting, they end up making out behind the large rabbit-shaped tree. 

It becomes A Thing.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 7

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 6, Part 8

I'm so sorry. I completely forgot the warnings! This chapter has more talk about sensitive topics. But it does not show or go into detail about it.

Dreams didn't haunt your sleep this time. You slept peacefully but woke up a little groggy from the ships movements. After readjusting your mask and freshening up, you left to find whatever food the Crux has.

The swaying ship's interior looked different in the daylight. So if you got a little lost while trying to find the stairs, then you can't be blamed. Eventually you did find it and climbed it to the main deck.

Most of the crew members seemed to be here already. The vast ocean surrounded you with no land in sight. You thought back to the players that would make ice bridges from Liyue to Inazuma using Kaeya.

"Oh that's them!" A yell catches your attention as a hand is roughly placed on your shoulder. You look up to see a tall, broad man with dark hair and a beard smiling down at you. He looked very familair and the sun casting a shadow on him helped you remember. This was the exhausted man that you showed the fan to, to board the Alcor.

"Is this the person you saw moving everyone off the floors, last night Sea Drake?" The man with his hand on your shoulder asks another man with a eyepatch and red bandana who nods.

"That's them Juza. I heard the creator's wishing show happening and by the time I was in the hallway I saw them moving ya'll halfdead bodies off the floor."

Oh fuck, did he see you wishing?

"I'm a little confused on what you both are talking about. My name is Y/N, I'm a guest that Lord Ayato paid for. Sea Drake was it? Did you see the creator's wishing?"

"We definitely should've introduced ourselves before talking to ya like this. I'm Sea Drake, the helmsman of this ship. Sadly no, when I came outside it was already finished, I only saw the gold star through the window in my room."

Crisis avoided. Juza releases your shoulder and picks up a bag. The way he cheerfully gives it to you is much different then how he acted when you first met him.

"I'm Juza, you showed me the Kamisato fan when you boarded last night. Man , what a shock it was when I woke up and remembered! Come sit with us and the other crewmates! We all wanted to thank ya for spending the time to move us."

You open the bag to see 4 pieces of grilled unagi meat. Your stomach growls at the sight and Sea Drake pulls you to a pile of crates where the other crewmembers are.

"This is Y/N! They're Kamisato's chosen guest, and also the one who moved us before the crates crushed us."

Two women and a man look at you with varying expressions. It's a girl wearing an eyepatch that introduces herself first.

"I'm Furong, I'm just a sailor in charge of fighting. Since you managed to move me then you must have some strength."

The second woman speaks up with a smile. "And I'm Huixing, the crews navigator. That guy is Suling, don't expect much of an introduction, he only likes weapons."

Suling sends Huxing a glare and huffs, "And you only like marine biology."

"So? At least I can say my name, you barely give anyone who isn't a crewmate or a weapon smith the time of day."

They start to bicker as you start eating the Unagi meat, it tasted so good. Sea Drake hands you crystal shrimp and you accept it with a smile. You only eat half of it when Furong silently hands you a plate of squirrel fish.

Isn't this too much food to give to someone? But you wouldn't say no to food, let alone food that smelled so delicious.

"Thanks Furong." You flash a smile at the stoic woman as you taste the sweet and sour dish. She nods and Huixing see's just how much food was handed to you.

"If you'll are gonna thank Y/N with food then you should have given some crab too." Huixing puts a container next to you that looks very similar to crab roe tofu. How were you supposed to eat everything?

"Don't you see the amount of food is too much? You were better off giving Y/N a drink instead." To your surprise the gruff Suling handed you a rainbow aster. A sip let you know that it was lavender melon flavored.

"I don't mind, I didn't eat last night so I was starving." Being handed this much food may be overwhelming but you would be lying if you said it wasn't exciting.

Making it your goal to finish everything they gave you, you start chowing down. They watch you in vague fascination and slight horror as you eat everything. You only had the last half of the rainbow aster left.

Bringing it to your lips you chug it down without stopping. You're pretty sure someone is chanting "Chug! Chug!" until you finish the drink with a smile.

"Man, that all tasted so good." You wipe your mouth and set the glass down. Juza pats your back roughly with a loud laugh.

"I've never seen someone eat all that food in one sitting! Not super surprising since you are Lord Kamisato's chosen guest."

Furong, Huixing, and even Suling seem shocked at this information.

"You're the chosen guest? Are you super strong or super important? Maybe even know some important information on sea creatures?" Huixing asks in a rush.

"Oh, nothing like that. I'm a oracle for the creator so I guess I would fall on the important scale. Can I know why being Lord Ayato's chosen guest is so important?" You ask casually.

"An oracle? Really? That does seem worthy enough for Lord Kamisato to use his favor." Did Beidou owe Ayato for something?

"You see years ago before the Captain got her vision, she needed a new claymore. Lord Kamisato sent Thoma to board our ship with the goods we were delivering around the same time. We were attacked by Haishan, a leviathan, and Thoma almost died during it. The captain ended up losing her eye to save Thoma's life."

Well shit. It makes sense now that Ayato trusts the Crux so much despite their less than legal activities.

"When we returned, Lord Kamisato had already heard what had happened. As thanks he had a claymore made for her. The Katsuragikiri Nagamasa and it was that claymore that she used to kill Haishan. But it also destroyed the claymore."

The force Beidou used to cut off Haishan's head without a vision must have great but also reckless that it broke it.

"Lord Kamisato got her another one in exchange that she would take care of anyone that boards the ship with his fan. His chosen guest is what he referred to them as. It's been so long we thought there would never be someone."

"That sounds incredible. I would love to have seen that hydra be slain." No, no you do not want to see that. Mostly cause you don't want to accidently die during that battle.

The conversation moves smoothly to different topics of different adventures. You occasionally give in input when needed but you're gradually getting lost in thought. Mainly wondering if creatures of Teyvat would actually recognize you as the creator, would battles like that still happen?

You blink in surprise when you see Beidou and Kazuha talking on the other side of the ship. When did they get there? Kazuha looks over in your direction and locks eyes with you. You smile and wave holding back laughter at how red he gets.

Beidou on the other hand has no reservation and laughs at him. You're too far away to hear it but her body language says it all. Whatever she tells Kazuha is making him even more embarrassed.

He glances at you before moving to the middle of the ship where no one else is. Having a feeling on what he wants to say, you thanked the crewmembers for the food and left.

You walk to the middle where Kazuha is already waiting for you. As soon as you stop in front of him, he bows low with closed eyes.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies. My behavior yesterday was unbecoming of me and incredibly rude. If you feel uncomfortable around me due to what I had almost done yesterday then I swear to make myself scarce around you."

Well damn, was it really that serious? The way he pinned you against the barrel yesterday was child's play compared to what you've gone through and seen back on Earth.

You smile brightly and held his hands. Clasping his hands tightly you speak with a gentle and kind voice.

"Kazuha I really didn't feel uncomfortable or threatened at all by you last night. It was more funny than anything else! Besides the haiku you told me yesterday was very sweet, I wasn't lying when I said that being your muse was very flattering."

Kazuha sighs and smiles in what seems to be relief. He stands back up straight and you release your grip. A frown flashes on his face for a split second before his expression becomes puzzled.

"I remember you telling me that you're an oracle for the creator. The grace you wield must be from them too." His eyes get warm and hazy for second, most likely from thinking about the 'creator'. He continues in that calm, soft voice you've known him for.

"My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, I'm a ronin who's been traveling for quite some time. I occasionally join Beidou on her voyages and as fate would have it, I even got the chance to meet you here too. It's a pleasure to properly meet you Y/N."

"The creator has shown me some of your previous journeys. There's no need to speak formally with me unless you choose to. As we are both close to the creator, I wish for us to get along."

The wind's breeze is softer than last night's but it still ruffles your hair as you smile at him. Under his breath Kazuha whispers and judging by the slight wonder in his eyes, he must no realize he's speaking aloud.

"Clouds part for a clear smile,

Winds whip for the perfect stage,

Soft eyes and a hypnotic style,

Not even maple leaves can upstage."

After those last words Kazuha notices your bashful expression. In turn he only smiles calmly with a slight tint on his cheeks.

"My drunk words last night were not false. My creativity has been very low these past few weeks, and out of everything I've tried. It is your mere presence that cured it."

"Should I be worried that I'll be sending Kazuha off so soon? It seems like he's enamored with you." Beidou comes striding over to you both with a confident smile.

"Hello, you must be Captain Beidou. Has the blackcliff slasher that the creator granted you been serving you well?" Beidou smiles wider at that, you were right to keep your guard up.

"Straight to the heart, I like that kind of directness. Seems like there's some truth to your claim as an oracle. I hope you don't take any offense to that."

"Not at all, blasphemous people exist after all. Even if you don't trust me, I hope you can at least trust Lord Ayato since he was the one who paid for me."

"You've got a silver tongue, that'll serve you well. Now I've got Kazuha's flowery language and your charming words. Do ya mind if I ask you how you came to know the Commissoner?"

"Not a problem. I was looking to find a boat to leave Inazuma and Itto, the leader of the Arrataki Gang, introduced me to Thoma. Thoma learned that I was an oracle and brought me to the Kamisato Estate. I proved that I'm the real deal to Lord Ayato and he gave me the fan."

You speak with a relaxed stance and hands in your pockets. The simpler and less detailed you put it, the less likely you'll be caught in a lie about. Telling Beidou that you had to pass tests is just not a good idea.

"Well even if I can't fully believe it, it won't matter too much anyway. Having the Commissioners fan and Kazuha's wind trusting you is more than enough proof for me." She says that but you don't feel reassured.

It won't matter anyway. The fan is physical proof that she can't objectify. Plus you had her at C3, she must feel some sort of pull towards you. Whatever way she takes it is up to her.

"But I shouldn't get so distracted. I wanted to let you know that we'll be taking a little longer to pick up some things on a island we pass by. Kazuha, since our lookout Xu Liushi couldn't come due to his sickness, I'll need you to go up there and keep a eye out for now."

The map in the game showed that there was no land between Liyue and Inazuma. Was this something added or was it finally revealed now that you were in Teyvat? It reminds you of your debate on whether this cult thing was added or revealed.

"No problem Beidou, Y/N would you like to come along? The view up there is breathtaking." Beidou nudges Kazuha with a smirk while Kazuha pointedly ignores her.

"That sounds great! This is my first time being on a ship like this."

Going to the top of a armed fleet? The thought of being up there that high gives you slight anxiety but it's overpowered by the childish excitement.

"Excuse me for a moment." Kazuha brief warning is acommnenied by his hands lifting you bridal style. "Hang on tight!"

Anemo swirls around his lower body as he crouches before springing into the air. Expertly he uses the anemo as momentum to bounce off the wood of the sails climbing higher and higher.

The air gets colder and harder to breathe at the speed you're going at. Closing your eyes you hide your face in his chest to protect it from the biting wind.

The thump of his shoes hitting the wood alerts you to his steady landing. Your amazed smile is clear to see as he softly sets you down.

Holding the circular railing tightly you look down to see the dizzingly view of the deck below you. It was such a dangerous position but the sight of the seemingly endless ocean was enrapturing.

"I personally perfer sitting on the edge of the boat but the scenery here has a certain charm to it too."

You look behind you to see Kazuha leaning back on the railing with his head angled up. His hair is ruffled by the wind and you admire the handsome man. Little details that you couldn't see on official artwork or game models became clearer.

The callouses on his hands. The wear and tear on his clothes. Even the hint of scars behind his bandages did not go unnoticed by your eyes. Moving to look at his face, you meet his eyes. Were those scarlet eyes always so peaceful yet striking?

"Last night you mentioned how I feel like a sweet dream and that the wind speaks highly of me. Today you spoke of it too. Can you tell me what the wind says of me?"

"I am unable to speak to it with words. It communicates to me with feelings and other abstract ways. I've just been in contact with it for so long that I would describe my communication with it as hearing."

Kazuha has been able to hear nature since he was little so he must have gained a lot of experience in understanding what it's trying to say to him. It's quiet before Kazuha speaks his next words with care.

"The wind has a unique way of speaking when it comes to the creator. That same way is also used when it speaks about you. The only one that has ever gotten as close to it as you, would be the traveler. But you surpass even her. As the creator speaks to you, it makes perfect sense that it speaks about you so similarly to the creator."

So, his own opinion makes him interpret the wind differently. If he saw your bare face and you introduced yourself simply by your name, he might have really believed you to be the creator. All those details plus the wind's reaction would make him entertain the idea.

But how long would it have lasted? All it would take is to see your crimson blood to make him start doubting. Doubts will creep in and eat away at his mind until he twists the wind's feelings into 'the wind is warning me of them pretending to be the creator by mimicking their appearance and scent.'

"It's such an honor to be seen similarly to the creator. I hope it can stay like that forever. I'm not sure if the creator will stay with me forever but I'm thankful that I can at least meet people like you on this journey."

Your words are like sickly saccharine. Sweet to others but sickening to you. The lies rot your teeth like sugar as you clasp your hands together. Smiling shyly you look at Kazuha with a earnest expression.

For a second, Kazuha's breath seems stolen. His cheeks gain a rosy hue and his gaze seems to swallow you whole. Until the expression falls and his eyebrows pinch together slightly.

"Is somethi-"

"Oi Kazuha! I need your help with something for a second!"

Furong is the one calling him. If it wasn't for the anemo providing aid to help you hear better, you would have missed it completely. Kazuha looks down and glances at you with a contemplative expression.

"I'll head down in a second!" Kazuha reluctantly yells back before looking back at you with a soft almost sorrowful smile.

"I'll be heading down to help them, if you don't mind staying up here then please wait for me to come back."

You nod to show your agreement and watch him leave. The glimmer of worry in his eyes doesn't escape yours.

There's no way your front failed, if there's one thing you're confident in, it's your skill in lying. His initial reaction shows that he fully believed it, so what made him strongly doubt it?

The wind, or the anemo element specifically. Your connection to Teyvat as the creator must have let it alert him to your hidden feelings. He must believe that you feel sad rather than you being a liar. After all, lying would have made him mad.

You brainstorm what kind of story you can tell Kazuha as you wait for him to come back. The rolling waves, occasional jumping fish, and cawing birds are good background noise to help. The sight of a small island jolts you out of your head.

The sound of Kazuha's signature skill is perfectly timed as you turn back to see him land smoothly on the wood. Before he can speak and try to address your earlier mood, you speak first.

"That island Beidou mentioned is getting close. Should we alert her now or wait?" You point at the land that the Alcor is steadily getting closer to with an easy smile.

Kazuha frowns a little at the sight of it, it turns into a soft smile as he stretches his hands out to you.

"You're correct, we should tell her now. The landing will be a bit rough so it's best for you to be on the deck rather than up here. If you don't mind, I'll help you back down."

"Not a problem." Your words are accompanied by a beaming smile as your hand is placed in his. Swiftly he picks you up and holds you firmly in his arms.

"Which way would you perfer? The fast drop or a gradual landing?" He stands on the railing without faltering as he smiles at you.

"The fast drop, I trust that you will land as smoothly as you speak." The words you speak have a teasing note as you tighten your grip on him.

"Then I will not disappoint."

Instead of jumping off while facing the ground like you expected, he turns around so his back faces the drop. He starts falling backwards as you gasp in surprise.

Unlike the first time Kazuha held you, you made sure to keep your eyes open. Your stomach lurched as the air rushed past you. All too soon Kazuha righted his body and used his skill to land on the deck.

You're set down gently as he keeps hold of your hands to steady you. Eyes scrunched up in joy an airy giggle leaves you.

"You're the best rollercoaster I've ever been on."

"What's a rollercoaster?"

"I don't know, what is a rollercoaster?"

Your serious and confusing response makes Kazuha blink in confusion before Beidou comes up behind him.

"You both came down a lot sooner than I thought. Has the island been spotted already?"

"Yes, it has. It's around-" You zone off when Kazuha starts telling Beidou all the details on where the island is and how close it is to the ship. You needed to conserve any and all mental energy to keeping yourself alive, information like this would hinder you more than anything.

That's exactly why you only sat on a crate out of everyone's way as they ran around preparing to briefly dock at the island. If you are lucky, Kazuha might even forget whatever he planned to ask you.

The ship stops at the island and the board is put down. You watch in vague confusion as none of the crewmembers move to leave. Weren't they supposed to pick up some things from the island?

The sight of a very familar panda boarding the ship with a large bag makes you sit up straighter. Guoba, the usually silent bear happily put the bag down on the deck before catching sight of you.

He freezes at the sight of you as his eyes go wide. Feeling a bit worried that he might react like Ei, you wave at him trying to keep your heart under control. You have no clue how this secretly ancient god would react to you!

Guoba rushed towards you as he jumped up in down in what seemed like joy. Little hums and trills of happiness escaped him as you relaxed at his positive reaction. It would seem that he recognizes you as the creator. Too bad he can't talk and actually tell everyone.

Smiling you offer your hand to Guoba as he places his paws in it with childlike delight.

"Hello, you must be Guoba. You used to be the stove God right? A pleasure to meet you, I'm Y/N. I'm currently the creator's oracle."

He tilts his head in confusion. It must be weird to him that the creator is referring to themselves as someone other than the creator. Hopefully, his reduced mental capacity will not let him interfere and accidentally rat you out.

"Guoba, there you are! There's still a few bags left, please help me get the last ones."

Xiangling comes onto the ship holding two bags with a worried expression. Guoba looks at you and then at Xiangling with a conflicted expression.

You release Guoba's paws and gesture off the boat with your head, silently telling Guoba to help Xiangling out. With one last "Lalala~" he hopped off the boat.

The cheerful vision holder that has a literal god as a companion, sets the bags down and apologizes with a sheepish smile.

"I'm so sorry for Guoba's action! He usually isn't that physical with people. My name is Xiangling and I'm a chef from Liyue."

"It's not a problem, Gouda was endearing rather than off-putting. I'm glad he's that friendly with me. You can call me Y/N."

Another woman boards the ship holding three bags with Guoba following after her with the last bag. A tall stature, darker skin, many spikes and a large guitar-claymore fusion helps you easily identitfy Xinyan.

She was taller than her game model looked like and her features were sharper too. Her character details said that she was taller than most girls her age so it makes sense that you can see her accurate height.

But it still made no sense that people are so afraid of her. People would move out of lines she joins which was pretty fucking stupid. Maybe it's cause she lives in Liyue and you're from Earth but she looked more badass than scary.

Xinyan must have felt your gaze as she turns to look in your direction with confusion. She sets down all three bags and Xiangling hurriedly opens them. With a friendly smile Xinyan walks over to you.

"Are you a special guest of some sort? I'm Xinyan, the only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue. Beidou doesn't usually pick people up unless they're something special."

Hopping off the crate you hold your hand out with a grin. Xiangling may be looking into the bag but you can tell she's listening. Both pyro users are extremely friendly and not likely to suspect you of anything bad. It's best to get on their good side which thankfully isn't hard.

"I'm Y/N, an oracle for the creator. As for special guest, it's more like I'm the Kamisato Clan's chosen guest. It's great to meet you Xinyan."

As Xinyan shakes your hand Xiangling's head whips around to face you both at light speed.

"You're an oracle for the creator?!" She says loudly as she comes to you with sparkling eyes. Should you be concerned?

"Does that mean the creator can taste food through you? I've always offered food to the shrines and temples but it's not like I can get any feedback through that method. But if the creator can taste through you then you can tell me what they think of my food!"

Xiangling is steadily growing closer to your face with each word until her expectant eyes are almost all you can see. Xinyan watches the scene affectionately before scrambling to close the bags that has ingredients almost falling out of it.

Said ingredients are stuff that you don't recognize at all. Or they are a completely new variation of regular ingredients like hot pink Jueyun Chili peppers. It makes you a little scared to eat her food.

But at the same time, Xiangling was a famous chef. A true prodigy in culinary arts. She wouldn't want to feed the creator bad or sickening food. Her food is just a little dangerous, like Russian roulette.

In the end, your stomach won as you clap your hands together with glee.

"You're correct, the creator and I are connected in ways that acolytes are not. That includes sharing certain senses. I've heard before that you are one of the best chefs and even won a competition! Both I and the creator have high expectations."

Your words are said with so much enthusiasm that it couldn't have been mistaken for someone trying to subtly put pressure to be served the best food.

Xiangling hops from one foot to the other in elation as Guoba cheers with her. She's already grabbing a bag and a few other worrying substances from the other bags as she speaks.

"I'll be sure to serve up the best food! I'll start with something familiar then move on to the more risky dishes and finally end with my newest creation!"

Oh boy, you were in trouble.

You could only wave briefly to Xiangling before she speeds away to what you believe to be the kitchen. If you get sick then at least you have an excuse to avoid Kazuha and Beidou.

"All of Xiangling's dishes are rock 'n' roll! They might look or smell like something that'll set you ablaze but I promise it's full of nothin' but burning passion!"

Xinyan's accent graces your ears as you look at her with a nervous smile.

"Oh, I'm not doubting her ability. It's my own taste buds that I'm worried about. Inazuma has a lot of mild tasting dishes so the signature spices that Xiangling uses might be a shock for my mouth."

"Even so, you seem mighty open to trying it. That's a good thing of course, prejudice only slows life's roll."

The shifting of the fleet makes you stumble a little and grip the railing. Xinyan who has experience with sailing only leans back on edge of it with a content sigh.

Prejudice. It's the core concept that Xinyan fights against using rock 'n' roll which is viewed as resistance. In a way, you were also in this spot due to prejudice. After all, if everyone didn't have certain expectations of the creator or weren't so guarded against features that resemble the creator. You wouldn't be in this mess.

"Hey Xinyan? Do you mind me asking a question?"

"Not a problem, go ahead."

"What made you love rock 'n' roll? And I don't mean as a music genre but as a concept."

"That's a bit of a long story but I'll try to narrow it down. You'll need some background information first. I suggest you get comfortable."

You're quick to shift into a more relaxed stance beside her. Her story and words will be a very welcome distraction from the thought of dealing with whatever Liyue will throw at you.

"You hear my accent? It's because I grew up in the poorer countryside and growing up I faced a lot of people that weren't accepting of me. My height, face, skills, and even my skin color at times. There was a time where I wanted to give up and just accept that I wasn't what people wanted me to be. That the real me just wouldn't be accepted."

Her lips were set in a line as she spoke. Hands drumming on the railing to a tune you didn't recognize.

"But I absolutely hate losing so I visited Fontaine. I hoped that I could learn some tricks to finally master traditional feminine arts, instead I found something better. I found rock 'n' roll. Just that one concert I went to changed my life, the spirit of resistance spoke to like nothing else!"

You stayed quiet as she started to speak excitedly. A little seed of envy sprouted in your heart but you were quick to stomp on it to death.

"It really helped put everything in perspective. I didn't need to change who I was, things I can't control or my own opinions to make others happy. The creator must surely approve of it too since I got my vision through it too. At this point I've mastered everything people said I wouldn't and I'm far happier than I would have been if I gave up."

Her eyes finally meet yours as she smiles fearlessly. You match her expression with one more tame but just as happy.

If your life wasn't in danger, perhaps you would be taking a route similar to hers. Simply living without apology and doing your best to live every day to the fullest. But that wasn't possible when your life is on the line like this. Still it was nice to dream.

"It's really amazing Xinyan. You should be proud of who you are today because there's a lot more people than you think that are just as proud. So don't burn out until there's nothing left to set aflame, okay?"

Those words aren't just meant for her, it was for you too. 'Don't stop trying to find a life here until every option is exhausted.' Reckless? Yes, but you didn't want to die like cattle in this life. Not after living like a dog back on Earth.

"Oh that's perfect! That's the best inspiration I've gotten through this whole trip. I need to go write this down and tune my guitar before the big show today. I'll see ya later Y/N!"

Xinyan was already rushing off to who knows where before you get a word out. The ship wouldn't get to Liyue till early tomorrow morning. What show was she talking about?

You sat at the table in the kitchen as Xiangling placed dish upon dish on the table till no empty space was left. Some looked normal even recognizable like black-back perch stew, a specialty of hers. Other's looked almost frightening like the strange hot pink stir fry with neon green fish and blueish veggies.

"From left to right is my most confident work to my latest dishes. I hope you enjoy them all."

Xiangling looked so happy and expectant that you didn't have it in you to back out. With a gentle smile you start eating the stew.

Was this heaven? Was it possible to taste heaven?

You gobble down the black-back perch stew like it was your last meal. You swallow the last piece before giving your review.

"The creator is very happy that your most famous original dish is this one. It's truly the best combination of Li and Yue cuisine."

You weren't technically lying, your words are more comparable to speaking in third person.

With more confidence you begin eating the dishes systematically while giving what you hope is valid criticism.

"The flavor of silk flowers is a little too strong in this one."

"This blue violet grass you got is good initially but the aftertaste sucks."

"The shellfish you caught requires more seasoning."

You actually managed to eat all the dishes and not throw up. Was this a testament to Xiangling's cooking skills or your iron stomach from all sorts of crap you ate on Earth?

"Thank you so much Y/N! It's always been my childhood dream to offer my dishes to the creator themself! I've written down everything you said so that I don't forget and can always look back on it."

She pats the notebook with a smug smile at your mostly positive feedback that makes you laugh.

"Thank you too Xiangling. Your dishes were some of the best I've ever tasted. Whenever the creator comes, I'm sure they'll want you as their chef."

She blush at your compliment and turns away in embarrassment. Guoba seems to be sharing her joy judging by the happy "Lalala~" he lets out.

You reach out and pet his head. His eyes close and he stands perfectly still. This had to be the most adorable thing, he was so soft!

The clinking of a plate on the table snaps you and Guoba out of your daze. A bowl of food and meat smelling vaguely of pork catches your attention.

"I didn't forget you Guoba. Thank you for waiting and not stealing Y/N's food. So I made you your favorite!"

You move your hand off his head and he happily starts eating his food. What you thought was pork looks different. Was this another animal you didn't recognize?

"What meat is that? I thought it was pork but the texture looks really different. I've never seen it before."

"Oh, it's human flesh. I did have some leftover internal organs but I put those to freeze for him to eat at dinner."

You barely hold back the urge to throw up.

There were always cannibalism jokes about Xiangling with her "Help! My dinner is attacking me!" line but this was so much more. She actually killed, cooked, and fed Guoba a human being. And so casually said it too!

Did she use that meat in your food too? Did any of your dishes have human remains in them? Your grip on the table tightens a little. She's still watching Guoba as she belatedly continues.

"I only feed animals human meat. I wouldn't want to be a cannibal or make anyone else one either. But it's such a waste to leave meat like that to rot. Might as well feed it to someone right? One of my signature traits is to make dishes out of any ingredients after all."

Should you be relieved or worried? This must be common knowledge or even common practice by how easily she told you. Bile pools in your mouth as you ask her.

"How did you get the meat? Did you just find the body or did you have to kill someone?"

"I'm not fond of killing and I try to avoid it outside of when the creator controls me. But when people speak about the creator like they don't matter or don't exist, it really bothers me. I end up saying something, it becomes an argument and then it gets messy. Under law it's okay to kill someone who disgraces the creator so I don't get in trouble but it would be a waste to just leave them there."

That's a literal law? Was it just in Liyue or was it in every nation? If you were too careless when you spoke to Ayaka that day, she could have killed you and no one would blame her.

You hum and nod, not trusting that your voice could be steady just yet. Guoba finishes his bowl and Xiangling takes it to the sink.

Laying your head on the table, you focus on relaxing your stomach.

That law was probably created for more morally correct situations like someone blatantly badmouthing the creator. And there's a large chance they wouldn't immediately believe the accusations. But Xiangling and Ayaka are both well known and liked acolytes. The court would totally believe them.

Ayaka probably didn't kill you because she wanted Ayato to make the final decision. Plus killing you would reflect badly on her as the Shirasagi Himegimi. With this new knowledge of Xiangling's cooking ingredients you had be more careful around her.

You lift your head a little at the sound of a guitar. Was that singing?

Quietly you excuse yourself from the kitchen and climb the stairs to the main deck. There you saw the crew gathered around what looked like Xinyan in the middle.

She was strumming her guitar on a makeshift stage as she started to sing. Her vision would glow at brief intervals as her movements were accompanied by spurts of fire.

Was it really safe for a destructive fire vision holder to use it on a wooden boat? You were no professional but wasn't this an extreme fire hazard?!

A little more frantic you start scanning the boat looking for Beidou. Surely she would either reassure you with facts or put a stop to it.

At the lack of the captain you climb to the higher deck as the music gets louder and louder. Flames were now constantly swirling around her as the crew cheered along.

You finally spot Beidou watching the ocean as the waves roll harder then they were this morning.

"Captain Beidou! I hope I'm not bothering you but I'm just a little concerned. Is it safe for fire to be so open on the ship? Xinyan's concerts never hurt any of the fans but the stages and area tend to be casualties right?"

She looks back at you with her good eye and smiles knowingly. She hangs her arm around your shoulder and spins you towards the stairs leading to the main deck.

"You shouldn't be so worried about that. As captain, I'll always make sure you're safe. So go on! Have fun! Join the crowd and let go of your worries."

That's only making you more worried.

You feel a bit helpless as she walks down the stairs with you. The sky is almost completely covered with grey clouds. Xinyan's singing rings throughout your ears perfectly in tune with the music.

Xiangling leaves the kitchen and Beidou releases you in favor of talking to the cheerful chef. Looking up you can see the faint form of Kazuha at the lookout. The loud music must be bothering his sensitive hearing.

The air is starting to feel damp and hot as the flames grow bigger and spread farther. Despite your worries, it's almost hypnotic to watch Xinyan perform with such ferocity.

It's the tug of your clothing that snaps you out of your daze. Looking down you see Guoba looking strangely worried. He releases your clothes in favor of holding your hand and brings you closer to the edge of the boat.

With this new view you can see the harsh waves and crashing tides. The ship is swaying and each shift makes you hold onto the railing tighter. A long, huge and dark figure below the ocean makes your breath stop as fear bites your soul.

With uncharacteristic terror and alarm you whip your head around to where you last saw Beidou.

"Somethings coming!-"

Your warning is just a tad too late as a loud roar overpowers your words.

Unable to mask your horror you turn your head back to the ocean as a large shadow overtakes you. A huge sea monster rises from the ocean as the water falls off it with a loud splat.

Four eyes peer down at the ship and seem to lock eyes with you. The twin heads point up at the sky as another booming roar rings through the sky.

This took really long huh? I was just getting super busy plus with family stuff. But that's boring! I also noticed that I write different depending on my location, weird but it makes sense. Isn't it strange how Thoma never visits Mondstadt? Ayato and Ayaka would totally let him have a week off to go visit but he doesn't. I guess you can say that I headcanon that Thoma has a fear of traveling large bodies of water like that. After nearly dying on his way from Monstadt to Inazuma, he can't handle that kind of journey well anymore. Which is why he would need saving.

And I should totally clarify about Xinyan for those who saw her cutscene in the second Golden Apple Archipelago. Starting with setting, it's canon that she has a accent and grew up poor. But in the cutscene, she's in Liyue's city. That can be easily brushed off as visiting. But she also sees a man using an instrument there and gains her love for music. Except she's the first and only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue so that means she got her love for rock 'n' roll somewhere else. So the backstory I made with her could totally fit the canon. The next chapter has a lot of lore and more action. (that ofc includes lying) Also a lot of people haven't been popping up when I try to tag them but I hope those in the taglist have been getting notifs. I'm gonna edit this whole thing in the morning and post it around then. (maybe) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37,

[archangeldyke-all]

EEEEEEE how bout reader finding Sevika hot whenever she fixes stuff or builds things around the house and quite literally not leaving her alone. Like yes Sevika you hammer the nail 😍. Reader would be STALKING Sevika around the house whenever she’s working.

ppppfft this is so real.

men and minors dni

there's just something about it...

the first time sevika does some kind of housework for you is in the very beginning of your relationship, in the middle of your second date.

you'd had plans to go on a picnic, but the weather and rain had other plans, so you ended up cooking for sevika in your apartment and watching a movie together.

sevika asks if she can snoop while you cook. you grin and give her permission, banning her from the top drawer in your room (hoping that it will make her look, hoping to see the sweet flustered look on her face after getting an eyeful of all your underwear and sex toys)

she doesn't, though-- she finds something else more interesting before she can get to your drawers.

"what's this box?" sevika calls from your room. you sigh.

"my new desk. i've been too lazy to build it, so it's just waiting there." you say.

"huh..." you hear.

it's the last thing you hear from her for thirty minutes.

at first you think she's gone back to snooping. then, you think maybe she went to the bathroom. then, you think she fell asleep in your bed.

when you finally put the food in the oven, you decide to go see what sevika's gotten herself up to.

you almost die when you find her on her hands and knees in your bedroom, building your nearly-complete desk.

she'd taken her sweater off, rolled her button up sleeves up her forearms. her tongue is sticking out of her mouth, her eyes focused on the instructions, and her muscles are flexing as she screws two pieces together.

you must make a noise. you must whimper or gasp or something, because sevika's head flies up a second later to look at you.

"what? did you want it in the living room instead?" she asks. you just blink, gulp, then try to speak.

"uh... this is fine. y-you didn't have to--"

"fuck off, you're cooking, it's the least i can do." sevika says.

(the food ends up getting burnt that night, because you park your ass on your bed and watch sevika finish your desk-- not hearing the oven beep because you were too focused on her arms.)

she figures out your appreciation for her handiness about the same time that you guys start living together-- both of you moving to a new apartment.

you aren't sure what tipped her off-- the time you tripped and broke all the ceramic dishes you were carrying into the apartment when you got distracted gawking at sevika as she fiddled with the garbage disposal in just a wife beater; the time you spent an uninterrupted hour watching her install a towel hangers in the bathroom; ...maybe it was the time you made her fuck you after changing the oil on your car-- her hands leaving streaks of dirt and grime on your body as her tongue worked against your cunt...

either way, she figured it out pretty quick.

and now, she tells you each time she's going to be doing any kind of handy work.

last weekend she built a bookshelf. you were supposed to help, to read the instructions for her, but you were way too distracted ogling her to read.

the second she was done, before she could even place anything on the shelves, you dragged her to the bedroom and got your hands on her.

she teases you about it relentlessly.

"this is doing it for you? really?" she asks from the top of the ladder where she's changing a lightbulb. you giggle and shrug.

"it's a pretty good view of your ass from down here. and it's hot that you're so handy." you say, your hands stabilizing the ladder for her.

"it's a lightbulb, babe."

"just take the win, sevika." you say.

she cackles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[written-with-blue-ink]

Good morning, Blue. Since Gaming requests are on hold until the poll ends, how about I start with a Cyno request? Please kindly consider this Cyno request: Based on Cyno's 'Least Favorite Food' voiceline about his desert rations. The other Matras start noticing Cyno eating a pinkish jelly from a jar after mealtimes. Upon inquiry, they find out it was a jar of Zaytun Peach jelly you, the General's wife, made after he made a comment on how tasteless the rations were.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

Hey hon! Finally got to one of your requests! I hope you enjoy it!

Cyno X GN/Fem Reader

Sweet as Sugar

“Have you seen the General Mahamatra,” one of the newer guards asked, hands still reached out to absorb the warmth of the fire.

“No, he left sometime after dinner, he’s been doing that a lot more lately than normal,” the other responded. “He didn’t use to do this, I think something might be up? I mean, this person we’re hunting was in the same Darshan and similar year as the General… Maybe they were friends and this is upsetting him?”

The newer member nodded, looking at the direction General Cyno went before pulling himself up. “I’m gonna go looking for him. Feel free to stay here and tend the fire.”

The other nodded, watching the other walk off towards the nearby stones before turning his attention back to feeding the flames.

“General Mahamatra Cyno,” he called out, turning the corner as he let his fingers run against the aged stone. “Are you al…”

The new scout wasn’t really sure what to expect, he most certainly wasn’t expecting to find sitting in a corner General Mahamatra Cyno, one of the most terrifying men in Sumeru, huddled around a jar and mid-putting a spoonful of pinkish preservatives in his mouth. Their eyes met, catching them both off guard before the newbie said, “Yeah… I’m just gonna go now…”

- A few days prior - 

“What’s wrong?” The voice rang in his ears and a warm hand reached across the dining room table and placed on his. Her hands were warm and just the placement on his made him melt. 

“Nothing really,” he looked into your eyes as he grasped your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m just gonna miss you and your cooking on this upcoming mission.”

He looked into your eyes as he watched them narrow in the way you did as you thought, shining as gears turned in your head. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he continued, squeezing your hand before returning to the meal. 

- - -

Cyno didn’t normally sleep in but he would the day before he had to go on another mission. Rest was needed for these long journeys and his back felt better on your shared bed than on the sleeping mats they used, plus the extra time with you was exactly what he wanted. 

He felt the sun rest on his skin as he reached out but felt nothing there. He opened his eyes, the world partially blurry, to see no one next to him, an empty half of the bed. He pulled himself out of the covers, feet placed on the floor, and walked up to the door. As he pulled the food open, the smell of sweetened and stewed fruits hit his nose. 

He walked down the hall, eyes looking to the kitchen as he watched you stirring a pot and humming to yourself. Hips swaying side to side in rhythm to the spoon’s movements. He didn’t say anything, walking past you and starting the water to do the dishes. 

“What are you doing out of bed,” you question, not even looking towards him as you stir the concoction in the pot, “go rest and enjoy your day off.”

“I am enjoying myself; I’m with you,” he says, scrubbing the few dirty dishes in the sink. “What about you? Why aren’t you in bed?”

You hum, lifting up the spoon and inspecting the pink mixture. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, about missing my food. I decided I would make something for you.”

Walking over, you lift the spoon towards his lips which he happily takes. The sugary fruits were stewed and dissolved in his mouth with minimal effort; releasing all the tension from his shoulders as he melted. “Zaytun peach preserves. I’ll make something to accompany them, I’m just not sure what yet…”

His eyes watched you in admiration. Stepping closer, he stretched upwards and placed his lips on yours. The taste of sugar was still in his mouth as he placed his hand on your forearm. As the two of you released, you couldn’t help but quip, “Well, at least I know I added enough sugar!”

[ivymarquis]

Garnish

Pairing| Alex Keller x F!Reader Rating| M Content/Warnings| Free use smut (pre-negotiated terms), dirty talk, a brief sprinkle of dummification

For @glitterypirateduck's Alex Keller Challenge!!! lmao idk why I was so intimidated writing this. I haven't really been the biggest Keller girlie so I had no idea where to go with his voice. Obviously the best way to try and get a handle on it was to write a filthy PWP :) "I bet the neighbors know my name"

Alex would know those earrings anywhere.

They are, without question, his favorite pair of hers. And while a part of him has hoped she would decide to don them after his return home, until this morning the jewelry’d remained sitting in her jewelry box. 

Of course they are his favorite for a very specific reason.

The idea of roleplaying a free use housewife fantasy just scratches a deep seated itch inside the both of them. He's already got plans- one day in the very near future- for how he wants to put a ring on that pretty finger. Take the 'house wife' part out of the fantasy by entrenching it firmly in reality where it belongs.

But right now his thoughts are focused less on the engagement band and more on the pair of earrings dangling with every tilt and move of her head. She's taunting him.

The "rules'' are pretty simple. If she's wearing the earrings, Alex has full rein to treat her to like a personal fuck doll whenever and wherever the mood strikes him and she'll go along with it. When she's done playing, the earrings go back in the jewelry box and their sex life is the same as any other couples.

The second he sees her- having walked from the mutual bedroom to their kitchen where he found her upon waking up- he decides that today will be a lot more fun if he takes a slightly different approach to start.

He gives zero acknowledgement of the dangly jewelry despite the fact that he knows she knows there's no way he didn't see them. Just gives a half-sleepy smile and presses an affectionate peck to her temple while murmuring "Good morning, pumpkin." and it takes everything in him to not crack a grin at the indignant look on her face.

No doubt she expects him to jump the moment she gives the go ahead. To pin her down against the cabinets with one arm, lift her skirt with the other and have his wicked wicked way with her.

Oh no, dear heart.

They sit and have a perfectly normal breakfast. Or at least Alex does. His pumpkin looks wild eyed and a little suspicious at his newfound self control. Clearly not expecting it and doesn't know what to do with herself about it.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" he poses the perfectly innocent question. He's being an asshole- he knows it, but he's having too much fun. He knows damn well she slept fine last night because he wore her ass out. Could barely keep her awake long enough to clean everything up.

"Yes, did you?"

"Like a baby. You seem a little jumpy though this morning- might want to watch the caffeine."

Oh she's watching something but it sure as shit wasn't the coffee.

After collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink, Alex whistled to himself while getting ready for the day. Nothing too exciting- just a few 'Honey Do's, after he put his poor girl out of her misery.

She's finding any reason she can to be in the same room as him and it's adorable. Looking for this, needing to place that- she flits in and around like she's worried he'll forget she's there if not in his line of sight.

Eventually an actual task takes her attention off of Alex and that's when he strikes.

She's bent over in front of the dryer, no doubt fishing some far-flung sock that refused to come along quietly with the rest of the laundry.

Well fuck, he can't refuse a sight like that.

He knows her well enough that as one heavy hand lands to grab her wrist, the other fists the back of her hair with enough force to keep her from banging her head against the dryer in case she startles- which she does.

Huh. He'd of thought for sure that maybe a part of her was playing up the whole 'being bent in half in front of the dryer' thing, but from that reaction he's starting to think she was actually just focused on the laundry for a split second.

He doesn't miss the way she relaxes against his hold now that his little game is up. "What a desperate little thing you are. I haven't even done anything and you're ready to roll on your back for me." 

Now that he knows she's not going to split her head open on the edge of the dryer he releases her hair, his newly freed hand now reaching down to flip her skirt up. 

The sight that greets him is enough to draw a low whistle from the man. "No panties? Naughty girl. Almost like you were expecting to get fucked today." he teases, chuckling to himself as she nods and presses her hips against the stiffening bulge in his pants. "And here I was being a mean, mean man and making my poor girl wait. Surprised you didn't have to clean up your seat after breakfast this morning."

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to actually do anything today," she can't help herself but to lightly grouse at him.

"That's the fun of me being in charge of when you get fucked today, pumpkin. I might bend you over every singular solid surface that can hold your weight, or I might make you wait. Choice is all mine."

Well, until she says otherwise. Or if she outright safewords. But that is a given.

His pretty girl is getting spoiled though if she's got time to be grumpy about not being bent over to her satisfaction. 

One hand trails over her hip, teasing the exposed skin as he revels in how twitchy she is. 

It takes prep- always does, always will. But they'd been at it for a good amount yesterday and with her presently about to melt into a puddle of desire and neglect after this morning, Alex is mindful but not too apprehensive as he opens his pretty girlfriend up on his fingers.

First one, just to confirm his suspicions- she's primed and wants to go, pressing back against him in anticipation as one becomes two. He knows that two of his is something akin to three of her own, and that finally seems to settle her down as his fingers stroke that spot inside of her that has her grabbing at the dryer for leverage and pushing back against it to press further into him.

"That's it, baby. Nice and fucking wet for me. You know what your job is, hm?" he purrs behind her. 

"Yes," she pants quietly. "Alex, please-"

"You're spoiled, you know that?" he still ends up pressing an affectionate peck to her temple again, pulling out of her warm body to work on freeing himself one handed.

She's all too eager to help get things rolling- standing on her tip toes and arching her back. It makes it easy to slide into her, taking a few shallow, rolling thrusts to work himself all the way inside.

Rewarded with the sound of her pleased moans, Alex is quick to settle into a pace that he knows will get the pair of them rolling their eyes in no time. At this point he knows how to get her going as certainly as he does to get himself off.

"Oh my God- right there," she moans, her own hands scrambling for purchase against the dryer to brace. Alex bands one arm across her waist while the other continues to knead her hip, keeping her close to him as he thrusts.

'Yeah? That's the spot right there pumpkin?" he asks despite knowing the answer. He just likes watching how she'll go from a smart, capable woman to a dumb little cocksleave desperate for his cum with the right kind of prompting.

"Ye-ye-yeah," she confirms as he stays steadfast in his tempo. 

"Fuck,” he groans at the wet heat of her clinging to him like she never wants him to leave her.

Letting go of her hip with one hand but keeping his other banded across her waist, Alex is all too happy to grope at her chest. Fingers plucking at her pebbled nipples- rolling and pinching one before switching to pay attention to the other. Those hitching breaths work in time to his ministrations as he works her up just to pull his hand away from her bust in favor of her clit.

Now that got her attention, each thrust of his hips and slow stroke of his fingers being rewarded with his name a constant chant in her mouth- Alex Alex Alex Alex-

“That good, pumpkin? You gonna- fuck-  make a mess for me? Come on, honey, ask me for it,” he goads.

She’s sputtering and scrambling to get her brain in working order- trying to be a good girl. Fucking adorable.

“Alex- fuck,- hgn- Alex- please! Let me- let me,” her brain struggling to play catch up.

“All ya gotta do is ask, honey. You can do that, can’t you?” Pressing another chase kiss to her temple, the dichotomy is not lost on him paired with the absolute filthy noises coming from where they’re joined. She’s gagging for it- literally can’t get the words out of her mouth in the right order. “Must be fucking you good if you can’t even talk properly,” he teases, a grin escaping him when she shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “I bet the neighbors know my name,” the uppity ones who seem to think they’re above socializing with any of the other tenants in the building- brushing off anyone who tries to get to know them.

God they must fucking hate Alex when he’s home after being sent out on mission.

“Alex please! Let me cum, please!”

His fingers kept up that maddening pace until his ears finally register that she did, in fact, use her words.

And Alex is nothing if not a man of his word.

He knows exactly how to change the quiet strumming of his stroking fingertips from the teasing touches meant to ramp her up, and the ones meant to drag her across the finish line.

Those pretty thighs are trembling as Alex plays her like a fiddle. She cums with a cry, seemingly caught off guard by how intense it is.

It doesn’t take much more to get Alex chasing his own end.

He finishes without much fanfare Pulls out, tucks himself away, pulls her skirt down and kisses her temple again before leaving a shaking mess left to sort out the laundry.

Much like breaking the seal on a night out of drinking- now that he’s given into the temptation he just cannot stop the rest of the day. The second his refractory period is up and he feels ready to go another round, he’s seeking her out within the house and can’t wait to climb on top of her.

He may or may not be the reason that lunch burns that day a few hours later. It’s a worthy reason though, and he happily orders takeout as an apology.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for doing fewer chores around the house because I'm not around very much?

I (23m) live with 2 other housemates (W 23M, and S 23M). We've known eachother for 4+ years now, and lived together on and off for about 3. Me and S are in college, and W has graduated and is working in the area.

The problem is, S doesn't really pull his weight in the chores department despite having objectively the most free time out of the 3 of us. He almost never does dishes, takes out the trash, or contributes to cleaning shared spaces without being explicitly prompted/helped. This was less of and issue in previous years living together because W and I had more free time/were around the house more, so we didn't have problems picking up the slack like we do now.

W works a full time job, and has an hour commute both ways so he isn't around much on weekdays, and tends to spend a lot of time with his gf on weekends. I work 2 student jobs on top of a full class load and only tend to be around the house to sleep on weeknights, and work ~8hrs a day on weekends. S is taking about half the credits of a full time student, and does not work.

W and I still manage to get "our" share of chores done (i.e washing the dishes we generate, taking out trash, some general cleaning) but neither of us are around/able to do this on most weeknights. S will leave dirty dishes in the sink/on the dining table after eating, and rarely if ever loads/unloads the dishwasher. This has become very evident now that neither me and W aren't around much, becuase the sink will be entirely full of dirty dishes despite both of us hand washing or immediately loading the dishes we use in the dishwasher.

Now that there's the context, AITA for entirely stopping picking up after S/doing any extra chores? I have been spending under 6 hours a day in the house for the last few weeks due to midterms, and have been eating all of my meals at work/on campus so I haven't been adding to dishes/general mess around the house. I could tell it was getting messy but i was trying to catch as much sleep as possible and could honestly say none of the mess was mine. I warned both of them that I'd be really busy/mostly gone for the next month between projects and midterms, and specifically brought up that I wouldn't be able to help out as much.

W was really understanding and said that was fine, S just said "cool". In this period, W started spending a lot more time at his GFs place because the mess was pretty bad and he didn't have the time to take care of everything alone. Je told S he would be spending less time around the house and again, S was fine w it. We both hoped S would step up and keep the space clean because we've frequently talked and seemingly agreed about the standards we'd like for the house.

I bumped into S on my way to bed last night, and he started complaining about how messy the house is and that me and W haven't been doing anything to help. I pointed out that neither of us have been around recently and that it's 99% his mess, and that he's a big boy with free time and can take care of it himself. He said that "you and W could have at least just asked and I'd do it" and said that I was being really passive aggressive about it. I just said "dude I'm going to bed, I'll clean what's mine tomorrow" and left it at that. I did a super light cursory cleaning of a few things, but left all the dishes/messier spaces alone because it wasn't my doing.

I feel like TA because I did/have been purposely doing less around the house but I'm sick of cleaning up after S. W doesn't really want to get involved because he isn't a fan of conflict and is able to basically live with his gf, but I did let him know this happened and he doesn't think I've done anything wrong, though I could have been a little nicer to S. So wise and powerful Tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[withacapitalp]

Little Bird, Little Bird, Fly Through My Window

Read it on ao3 instead!

Robin’s mom calls her every Thursday at exactly 7:30 pm. 

When she and Steve moved to New York so she could go to school, her parents initially pitched a fit about it. Moving 12 hours away, to the biggest city in the world, with a man she didn’t have any plans to marry? 

Yeah, that certainly led to a few raised voices in the Buckley household. 

But, once they got over the initial shock, her parents had come around to the idea. She was an adult, so they couldn’t stop her if she really wanted to, and Steve could charm birds off the trees with the right smile and sweet words. When she had finally convinced them that Steve was honestly just her best friend- no they weren’t sleeping together, no they weren’t secretly dating- they had agreed to support her. With a few conditions of course. 

One: Don’t get pregnant. 

Robin was pretty sure she would be able to avoid that one 

Two: No going out at night without Steve. 

Yes, they were still a little suspicious of whatever was going on there, but no one would bother her if he was walking next to her. That was fine, she didn’t really like to go anywhere without Steve anyway, that was the whole point of him leaving Hawkins with her. 

Three: Her mother was going to call their apartment every Thursday at 7:30 pm, and Robin better answer the phone every single time. 

That was the most annoying one. 

Her mom just liked to talk so much. Olivia Buckely was a born and bred Midwesterner, and Robin had never had a phone call with her that didn’t last for at least two and a half hours. She always felt the need to update her daughter on every single member of their family, each neighbor, and all of her coworkers. What they had done, what they hadn’t done, who they were seeing, who they weren’t seeing anymore...all of it. 

Robin couldn’t have cared less about any of that, but her mom still held her hostage anyway. 

In all honesty, it was a small thing to have to fit in. She and Steve had settled quickly into their new life, and they had made a ritual for Thursday nights to deal with the annoyance of the phone. 

They would come home from their jobs or their schools, and Steve would make Robin whatever she wanted for dinner. It didn’t matter how elaborate or how silly, he would make it. Once she had requested only a chocolate cake, just to see what he would do. An hour and a half later he presented her with a two layered masterpiece complete with birthday candles, just for shits and giggles. 

They would eat dinner together on their lumpy little sofa, plates balanced precariously in their laps as they watched a movie on their tiny little box TV. Then, when the phone inevitably rang at 7:30 on the dot, Steve would take both of their plates and go do the dishes, coming back to the living room afterward to do whatever while Robin stood by the phone and slowly lost her mind. 

Then, afterward, they would get rip roaring drunk. 

It worked for them. It was annoying, but it worked for them. 

It was on one of those Thursdays that Robin got the biggest shock of her life. 

“Joanie called by the way. That woman who just married your Uncle Mitchell? I swear, I don’t know how he continues to get women to fall for him, he’s been married three times already. She’s a nice girl though, so I hope they make it, but she did bring along two kids of her own, so who knows?” Her mother prattled on, uncaring of the fact that her daughter was going to jump out their fifth story window if she had to hear much more of this. 

Robin hummed to show her mom she was still listening, turning around to face Steve and miming putting a gun to her head. 

He smirked at her and pushed up his glasses, lowering his gaze back down to the textbook in his lap. He had a test in one of his education classes tomorrow, and he was still studying. It was on Blooms….Bloom’s….

Bloom’s Whatever. It had to do with how kids learned, Robin knew that much. She had been helping him study for the last five days, but none of it really stuck in her head. It was weird, this was the first time that he really understood something that she couldn’t comprehend. 

Oh well. It was stuck in Steve’s head, that was all that mattered. 

“-plays baseball or something. And the older one is just a little bit younger than you, actually. Apparently, it was a teen pregnancy, a very big deal. Her parents disowned her, can you believe that?” 

“No, I can’t,” Robin lied, not really sure who she was in disbelief for. Was this still about Mitch’s new wife, Jane? 

Regardless of who, Robin could easily believe in someone’s parents disowning them when they found out something they didn’t like.

She could very easily believe that. 

“Well, he is a very nice boy, Robin, a good addition to the family. You’ll like him, they’ll all be here when you come home for the holidays. He might even bring his boyfriend too. Oh, and please get me the times for your flights, honey. Your father wants to take off work so he can pick you two up,” Olivia said, her tone etching into impatience. 

Robin opened her mouth to complain about her mom nagging her again about flights that weren’t happening for almost a whole month, but then her words finally registered in Robin’s brain. 

Boyfriend. His boyfriend. 

Her mom had just casually used the words ‘his boyfriend’. 

“I’m sorry?” Robin said, her voice slightly strangled. 

She must have misheard her, or the phone was malfunctioning. Somewhere along the 750 miles of line, it had to have cut out or warped the words, because there was no way in hell her extremely religious mother had just used the words ‘his’ and ‘boyfriend’ together in a sentence without bursting into flame. 

“Your flights! Darling, I’ve asked you about this a thousand times. Put Steve on the phone, he’ll help me. I know I wasn’t sure about you moving out to that big city all alone with that boy, but honestly, now I thank my lucky stars that you have him. At least someone there would be able to find their head if it wasn’t attached!” Her mother teased. 

Normally this was where Robin would get snarky, call her mom out for being just as forgetful as her. She couldn’t this time, she was too focused on the fact that all of the air seemed to have left the room in an instant, and her body had become mysteriously hollow. 

“I wasn’t- his boyfriend?” Robin repeated, needing some kind of clarification. Steve, who had been happily eavesdropping on Robin’s side of the call the entire time, slowly put his book on the table, watching Robin with a worried look. 

Olivia, who didn’t seem to have noticed the shift in her daughter’s mood, continued to gossip. 

“Yes. Mitchell’s new wife Joanie? She brought her sons with her to Thanksgiving. Eric is the younger boy and Kyle is the older one. He brought his boyfriend Derek, who is a lovely young man by the way! He’s in school in Chicago studying finance, that’s where they met. He reminds me a lot of Steve actually. He has this thing he does with children, some sort of outreach? He was telling me-

“Mom,” Robin cut in, hard and fast. That was sometimes the only way to get a word in when it came to her mother, and Robin needed that word. 

She wanted to ask a thousand questions, she had a hundred different things running through her brain. 

She couldn’t find a single word. 

“Robin? What’s wrong, little bird?” Her mother asked in a careful loving tone, using her childhood nickname. 

Robin leaned back, her knees knocking together as she shook, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. Steve got up from the couch, crossing the room in just a few steps and coming to sit by her side. Without a word he held out his hand, and she grabbed it with her free one, squeezing too tight. A rush of love for her best friend swept through her, and Robin squeezed his hand again. 

Steve always just knew what she needed, and Robin had no idea how she had lived seventeen years of her life without him. 

“You don’t- I mean you-” Robin cut herself off, lowering her voice to a whisper of complete bafflement, “You don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what, my love?” Her mother asked, perplexed. 

Robin smothered down a laugh, completely baffled. In the past four years she had lived through actual monster attacks and the literal apocalypse, but this was the most unbelievable thing that had ever happened to her. 

“That he has a boyfriend?” Robin clarified, pulling her hand away from Steve for a second to run her fingers anxiously through her hair, before latching onto him again, “You don’t mind that Kasey, Kyle, whoever, has a boyfriend?” 

“Oooooooh!” Her mother said, finally putting the dots together,  “Well, it’s a little unconventional, but the boy is very nice. Both of them are!”

Very nice. Her mother, who literally carried a pocket bible in her purse at all times, just called a gay boy and his partner ‘very nice’. 

Briefly Robin considered that she might’ve died in the Upside Down a year ago. There was no way this was reality. 

“I didn’t think you had a problem with gay people,” Her mother commented after the silence had gone on for a touch too long.  

“I don’t,” Robin quickly said, searching for an explanation that wasn’t ‘I’m a gay people’, “I just, I didn’t know you didn’t.” 

“Of course I don’t! Have I ever said I did?” Her mother asked, sounding worried. 

She didn’t need to say it. The endless crosses all around their house said it. The constant bible verses said it. The Reagan yard sign said it. The pastor at their church who said AIDS was God’s Will said it. All of those things spoke louder than words ever could. 

But Robin had no idea how to explain that. 

“You go to church every week!” She finally sputtered out, as if that was enough. 

“And?”

“You quote the bible at me constantly!” Robin protested, her voice raising.  

Steve’s hand slid out of hers, and he wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing up and down on the top of her arm soothingly. It didn’t do much, but it was enough to make her let go of the emotions starting to ramp up. 

“I mean, c’mon mom,” She said softly, letting her heart open up that same painful wound she had carried all her life, “What was I supposed to think?” 

“Well let me quote you some more bible then, dear, because you’re clearly missing the most important thing,” Her mother said, and Robin could hear the fluttering pages in her mind as Olivia looked for exactly what she wanted to say. When she found it she gave a quiet exclamation before clearing her throat, the way she always did when she wanted to ‘speak the good word’

“John 4:7 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.”

Robin’s mother had been quoting scripture at her her entire life. On her good days, Robin was able to just roll her eyes and politely smile and nod along. On her bad days…well there had been a lot of bad days. Never once had she felt comforted by anything in the bible. 

Well, never before this moment. 

Robin bit at her trembling lip, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Steve’s forehead gently knocked against the side of her head, and she leaned into him, keeping a death grip on the receiver as her mother stayed quiet on the other side of the line. 

“I- I’m-” Robin stopped herself. The quiet stretched out into a thin tense thing, until her mother’s voice rang out again. 

“Robin, darling, I would never hate someone for what they were born as. Kyle didn’t choose to be born a homosexual, the lord made him that way,” Robin scoffed as her mother quoted gay anthems back at her. Her mom paused again, then spoke even quieter, “My most important commandment from Jesus is to love him, exactly as he is.”

“And you...don’t think it’s a sin?”

Because that’s the thing that really scared her. 

Sure, Robin had always worried about the big reaction- the yelling, the hatred, her parents telling her they never wanted to see her again, but that wasn’t what kept her up at night. But there fear that kept her from taking the leap. There was a reason Steve was the first person to know instead of her own mother.

Robin was afraid her mother would love her anyway. 

Olivia would smile, and brush her hair back, and promise to love Robin anyway. In spite of the fact that she was a lesbian, in spite of the undeniable fact that her daughter was going to go to hell. She was scared her father would pretend that he accepted it, and behind the closed doors, they would be disappointed. Her parents loved her, and she was terrified that they would continue to love her anyway. 

Robin wouldn’t be able to handle that. She could stand being hated, but being loved with a new asterisk attached would kill her. 

“It’s not on me to decide what sin is, or to judge someone even if I believe I see one. Don’t forget the story of the adultress,” Her mother said instead of answering the question. 

“But do you think it is a sin?” Robin pressed, needing the answer now that she had finally asked the question, "Do you think it is sinful for him to like boys?"

“No, I don’t. All he did was fall in love,” Olivia stated. As if it was that simple. 

As if Robin had never had a thing to worry about. All that pain, all that self-loathing, all those nights she cried herself to sleep, all of it was completely unnecessary. 

Robin’s mind raced, trying to find any way to make this make sense with what she had known all her life. Maybe it was different if it was your own kid. Sure, it might be easy to accept some random new wife’s gay son, but her very own daughter? Her mother surely would have a different reaction then, right? 

Right? 

She had stayed quiet too long again. Her mother spoke up once more. 

“Sweetheart…I love you very much. You know I love you more than anything,” She started slowly, and Robin’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. It was time. Her secret was up. 

“But if I have raised you to think that it is alright to condemn someone because of something out of their control, then I have to tell you that I disagree. Wholeheartedly.”

Robin laughed. 

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and leaned into Steve’s side, and let her tears flow. She laughed for a long time, far longer than she should have, and her mom stayed silent the entire time, listening to her reaction. 

“No, mom. That’s, that’s not it,” Robin finally managed to choke out. Her breath was still hitching, and her shoulders were still shaking, even though the laughter had died away. 

Another long pause. 

Another frighteningly long pause. Robin didn’t dare to speak first. 

“You know, your father and I talked for a long time about your plans to go to New York,” Her mother finally said, clearly starting down the long winding path of a story. Robin curled up in her soulmate’s arms and let the phone receiver sit nestled between them both. 

“You were awful insistent about going with Steve. You kept swearing up and down that you weren’t dating. I’ll be honest, we didn’t believe you at first,”

Yeah, they both already knew that. Her parents had been eagle eyed, intensely analyzing every interaction the two of them had in the weeks leading up to their move. 

“But then we saw you two together. Yes, you were very familiar, and we know that Steve came and slept in your room after you two thought we were asleep, but it was clear there was no romance between you two at all. Not exactly like brother and sister, but not boyfriend and girlfriend. that much was obvious. Which got me wondering...why exactly the two of you would move together. If it wasn’t love, what was it?”

It was love. It was the purest love Robin had ever felt for a person. It was the kind of love she could never explain. The only people who understood were the ones who had also felt it. 

“I talked with his mother, and she said, well, let’s just say she had a few choice words about her son,” Robins’ mother said, making Steve take a sharp breath in. The subject of his parents was still an extremely sore wound.

No, not really his parents. His mother. Steve didn’t care so much about losing his father, that was an inevitability whether he came out or not. He was just too different, too far away from what his dad expected him to become. Steve was honestly kind of happy when his father had kicked him out after they found out he was gay.

But that was his father. Steve had admitted to Robin late one night that having his mother turn her back on him was something he didn’t think he was ever going to fully recover from. Robin didn’t really understand it. Steve’s mother had never been anything but a cold hearted bitch in the few stilted conversations Robin had unfortunately had to have with her, and she knew for a fact that the woman had never treated Steve much better.

But he still missed her. He still wished that she could have loved him enough to try instead of just throwing him away. Robin supposed it was probably different when it was your own mom who hated you for something you had never asked for. 

And apparently, she never needed to worry about that. 

“The things that Lydia Harrington said told me everything I needed to know about why that boy needed you. That vile woman, the fact that she is the head of our ladies auxiliary is a travesty, and I've already appealed to the board twice and- well, that doesn't matter. What matters is that it also got me to thinkin' about why you seemed to need Steve just as much as he needs you.”

Her mom trailed off with a sigh They were approaching the edge again, staring out over the canyon, both wondering if their wings were strong enough yet to take that leap. 

“....Do you have something you want to tell me?” Olivia asked her daughter, offering to give her the push she needed to fly. 

Robin had a hundred thousand things to tell her mother. She wanted to tell her about the clubs she went to dance in at night, and the girl who sat in front of her in the orchestra at Juilliard. Robin wanted to tell her about how much it meant to Steve that her parents had insisted he had to come home with her for Christmas, and the way he had stayed up late all month trying to finish the gifts he was making for them. She wanted to tell her mom about Tammy Thompson, hear her laugh as Steve and Robin impersonated the girl's truly terrible singing. 

She wanted to tell her mom she was gay. 

But…

“Not now,” Robin decided. She wanted to do all of that, but she wanted to do it when she could see her mother’s face, when she could feel her father’s big warm hugs, “When I come home for the holidays,” 

“Alright,” Olivia agreed, her voice soft and dripping with honey, “When you come home- when you both come home- you’ll tell me what you need to tell me.”

There was a beat, and then her mom spoke again. This time her voice was thick with emotion, and the words came out heavy. 

“And I will tell you that I love you. I have loved you from the moment I knew you were in my belly, and I have loved you every single second after. Through every argument, every tantrum, every time you slammed the door in my face and told me I was trying to ruin your life,” They both huffed out a soft laugh at this.

Robin had really had a flair for drama when she was younger. Still did. 

“I have loved you the entire time, and I will continue to love you until my last breath.”

“Mom,” Robin started, about to start the cycle all over again, but her mother interrupted her. 

“You,” Olivia said with as much conviction as she could possibly have, “are the greatest gift of my life, Robin. My greatest joy. And I hope that you know that you can tell me whatever you need to, whenever you need to. I’d bury a body for you, little girl, but don’t you dare make me!” 

She and Steve both broke out into giggles at this. The air was starting to come back into the room, warm and sweet. 

“Your father feels the same way, just so you know,” Her mom added, just in case Robin hadn’t already caught that from everything else said, “Nothing could change how we feel for you,” 

“Okay,” Robin whispered. 

“You’re not alone right now, right?” Her mom asked, the normal touch of worry coloring her tone. 

“No, um- Steve is sitting right next to me,” Robin admitted, hoping her mom would be okay with knowing that he had heard all of that. 

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley,” Steve called, his voice betraying the fact that he had also been taken down by her heartfelt confession. 

“Hi Angelboy!” Her mother sang, using the silly nickname she had assigned him when he had done the dishes one night after a family dinner. Olivia had been complaining that no one in the house ever helped her, and while she was ranting, Steve had snuck into the kitchen and finished all the dishes. She had bustled into the kitchen, found that there was no more work to be done, and declared that he was ‘her angel boy’, and she was stealing him from Robin. 

“Make sure he knows the same thing goes for him- nothing changes that he’s a part of this family now,” She stated firmly. 

“He knows,” Robin reassured her, knowing her mother would get in a car and drive all the way to New York just to come and beat it into their heads if she detected even a hint of doubt. 

Robin rubbed at her face and took a deep calming breath, exhaustion starting to come over her in a haze. After that much emotion, the only thing she could want was her bed. 

Well that, a stiff drink, and her best friend letting her leech his body heat all night long. As if sensing what was going on, Robin’s mother gave a loud exaggerated yawn. 

“Alright, love. It’s getting pretty late, and I know you two were studying, so I’m going to let you go now, okay?” Her mother said. 

“Okay,” Robin said, suppressing her own real yawn. 

“Remember our rule though. I call on Thursdays at 7:30, and you?” 

“Answer the phone,” Robin replied. This was routine, easy, normal. This was how they ended every phone call, with Olivia reminding Robin, as though her daughter had somehow forgotten in the last seven days. 

Usually it annoyed her. Tonight she loved it. 

“That’s right,” She said. Robin could just see her nodding her head as if she had just won a great battle. 

“I love you, little bird,” Her mother cooed, and Robin smiled. 

“I love you too mom,” 

The words came easy. For years and years it had been so hard. Hard to say it back, hard to mean it when she had been so sure that it wouldn't be true for much longer. But now, Robin could tell her mother that she loved her as much as possible, and she was going to. 

[lilacbunnygirl]

Black Cat Luck

Chapter 2 - A Little Lie Never Killed Nobody

♪ Perverted - Elita ♪

➵ word count: 7,500

➵ warnings: this story includes +18 contents. so minors dni !!! if you wanna look at tropes and warnings here is the teaser chapter for black cat luck.

➵ author’s note: hi everyone! i'm back with second chapter.hope everyone would enjoy. just a quick reminder for this fic. I planned this story as a slowburn even if just a little bit. but don't worry you will see spicy chapters very soon! also I created a new account on ao3. I will be uploading the chapters there as well. for those who want to support, here is my account. please write your thoughts in comments. sending lots of love <33 lilacbunnygirl

Reader’s Pov

“God, Alex, how many times do I have to tell you to put down the toilet seat? This house doesn’t have only men living in it!”

“Why does it always have to be my mistakes that are discussed in this house? It was your turn to wash the dishes, yet I did all of them, Nobara! Damn, they were waiting in the sink for four days!”

“If your boss gave you a report to finish by 1 a.m, then you’d understand how I feel! How did you expect me to wash dishes when I’m exhausted?”

You had started to wake up, albeit slightly, from the sounds coming through the thin walls of your apartment. This wasn’t the first loud argument between Nobara and her boyfriend Alex. Their Sunday bickering, which had become a ritual, had also become a part of your life.

For god's sake someone seriously needed to teach Alex to close the toilet seat. Since you first moved into this apartment -which had been about two years ago- the same argument had been going on.

At least you were thankful it wasn’t a Friday night. Oh no, there wouldn’t be any arguing that night. Instead, you’d hear their moans as if lions were coming out of them. Even though you loved them, being so involved in their sex life was unsettling.

Damn thin walls…

As their argument continued, you finally managed to open your eyes. Even though you cursed yourself for waking up so early, your sleep was gone. After stretching thoroughly, you trudged to the bathroom. You smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. There was even a hint of a masculine scent from your hair, a smell that had made you dream weird things last night.

You quickly stripped and entered the shower. After waiting a bit for the cold water from the showerhead to warm up, when you felt the hot water your muscles relaxed. After about 20 minutes, when you got out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with steam. You grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around yourself. You picked up your toothpaste from the sink and, squeezing it onto your brush, started brushing your teeth to get rid of the awful taste in your mouth.

Once you finished in the bathroom, you went back to your room and lay down on your bed again. You just wanted to sleep a bit more. As you closed your eyes, you remembered that today was Sunday.

Shit, it was Sunday!

You had promised your aunt to meet for brunch. Since you thought you still had time, you could get ready at a relaxed pace. But when you checked your phone to see the time, seeing 11:30 made you panic even more. If you were late, your aunt would kill you.

The meeting was at 12.00, and you had only half an hour to get ready and get there.

You quickly grabbed your mom jeans and a wine red colored sweater from your closet and got dressed. You took the hairdryer from the bathroom and dried your hair. Unfortunately you didn’t have time to style it. You grabbed your phone and rushed to the entrance of your home. You took the bag you had left on the entry table the night before and threw on the first leather jacket you found hanging on the rack. Fashion wasn’t a priority right now; you couldn’t be late no matter how mismatched your outfit was. After putting on your boots, you rushed out of the house.

Even though you didn’t know how you made it, you arrived at the place your aunt had sent you the location for at 11:59. You always spent Sundays together every two weeks. You saw your aunt with her blonde hair tied up in a bun at one of the outside tables. Since she had her back to you, she hadn’t seen you yet.

“Hey. I know I was almost late, but I made it.” You took a seat on the chair across from your aunt, out of breath.

“Did you fall asleep again?”

“Ummm…Yeah! But when have you ever seen me late to our meetings? I always come right on time.” You pointed to your phone screen showing the time. “Look, it’s 12:00. Most people say I’m punctual.”

Your aunt sighed deeply. “You always have something to say about everything, don’t you?”

“I wonder who I take after?” You pinched her cheek to annoy her.

Pulling your hand away from her cheek, she said, “Oh, stop it. If you're late for our meetup even once, I'll make you regret it!”

“And I love you too.”

Your aunt stopped being grumpy and said, “Me too baby. Anyway, can we order something now? I’m starving.”

While you picked up the menu in front of you and decided what to order, you asked, “Why did you have to come so early?”

“You know me, I’d rather be early than kept waiting.”

Even though you didn’t enjoy eating much, you decided to order pancakes to avoid an upset stomach. Your aunt opted for a cheese croissant. After placing your orders, your aunt brought up the topic you had been avoiding.

“Alright, are you thinking of telling me what happened yesterday?”

“Well, you already know. The guy turned out to be a real jerk. Where did you even find him ?”

“He worked at the same company as a close friend of mine. She kept saying how great he was, so when I heard he was around your age, I wanted to know if he was single. When my friend told me that he is, I planned to set up him to you. I thought I shouldn’t miss this chance.”

As you poured some of the water from the bottle the waiter had brought into your glass, you said, “I understand your effort, but—”

“Sweetie, I just want you to be happy. How long do you plan to keep living with one night stands?”

You drank the water you had poured before responding. “As long as they haven’t harmed me so far, I guess I’ll stick with this for a while longer.”

Your aunt spoke a bit angrily, “So are you thinking of getting married when you’re 40 like me? There’s nothing worse than people talking about you behind your back saying you’re still single.”

Honestly, you didn’t give a fuck who was talking about you. “You know I don’t care about that. Also, look at yourself. You found the love of your life 6 years ago. After two years of meeting, you had your child and are getting married soon.”

“Yes, Fuyu may be the love of my life. But while I should have been married and had kids in my early 30s, I had only just found him. I don’t want you to go through same feeling later in life like I did, sweetie. I want you to experience everything in its proper time.”

Even though you had very different views from your aunt, you understood her. For her, starting a family and getting married at an early age was everything. But that wasn’t in your plans. It all felt overwhelming when you hadn’t even discovered yourself yet.

Taking her hands from the table into your own, you said, “I know. But it’s really too early to think about these things. I have many more years ahead of me. I don’t want you to worry about me. Please promise me to stop trying to set me up with anyone.”

Mikasa, your aunt, let go of her tension and, with a genuine smile, said, “Okay, okay, no more matchmaking. And oh my god, did he really talk about how he cheated on his ex? I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”

“He might have received a bit of a reprimand from the cocktail I spilled on his.” After your words, you both laughed heartily.

Soon after, your orders arrived. The pancakes were really good, and the forest fruits that came with them were fresh.

After cutting a large slice and putting it in your mouth, you asked, “How’s Hana? I miss her so much.”

Even though you didn’t love kids much, Hana was the sweetest thing in the world. Despite being only 4 years old, she was mature for her age. She never screams or shouts randomly like most of the kids. Also she had already obsessed with fashion.

“She’s doing great. She keeps asking about you. Recently said, she wouldn’t take off the sweater you made for her.”

A huge smile spread across your face. “I’m glad she likes it. Actually, I designed a dress for her. I plan to sew it once I get the fabric soon.”

“Why do you have to be so talented? Do you remember the black lace dress you made for my friend’s birthday? Everyone loved it. They asked where I got it from. I proudly told them it was designed and sewn by my niece.”

Your face flushed a bit from the compliments. “It’s not about talent. Anyone can make such a dress. There’s nothing special about it.”

As she took a bite of her croissant, your aunt looked at you in shock. “Are you crazy? I’ve never seen anyone who draws and has taste like you. You even impress Hana. She said she wants to design clothes like you when she grows up.”

Designing clothes seemed simple to you. You didn’t think it required much talent. Anyone who picked up a pencil could draw a beautiful dress. For instance, what Suguru did was something entirely different. His work was real art. Drawing things that would take people’s breath away wasn’t something just anyone could do. To be as talented as him, you’d probably need to be born in Suguru Geto’s body.

Ah, why were you thinking about him again?

“Believe me, there are much more talented people out there.”

“Seems like you won’t accept whatever I say.” She sighed deeply. “This croissant is incredibly delicious.”

“The pancakes are great too. Do you want to try some?”

“Thanks, honey, but— Is this jacket new?”

You couldn’t understand why your aunt was so curious about the jacket you are wearing. But when you looked at it, you realized it wasn’t yours.

The leather jacket, which was too big for you, belonged to Suguru Geto.

“Oh, um, no, someone gave it to me.”

Your aunt looked at you with excited eyes. “Is there a chance this someone is a man?”

You didn’t know what to say. The thought of Suguru made your cheeks flush.

“Yes, it’s a man, but he’s not—”

Your aunt’s mouth fell open in shock, and she let out a small scream. Some people in the café glanced over, but none of them mattered to her.

“Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I have no idea what’s going through your mind—” you started to explain, but were cut off again.

“Are you joking? A man gave you his jacket… I’m so happy! You have to tell me everything about him.”

Everything felt like a joke at this point. Why did you have to grab this jacket so quickly when you left?

“Hey, hey, it’s not like you think. He just gave it to me because I forgot to bring something to wear and he didn’t want me to get cold.”

“A man doesn’t just give his jacket to a woman because she’s cold. Are you stupid? How could you forget to bring something to wear?”

“I’m not stupid. I just forgot it. And believe me, Suguru Geto doesn’t feel any feelings towards me.”

“Suguru Geto… Ah, even his name shows how handsome he must be.” She picked up her phone and asked, “Does he have an Instagram?”

Oh damn. Why did you let his name slip? Your aunt was probably searching for him all over the internet now.

You tried to grab the phone from your aunt, but you couldn’t. “Please stop! I don’t see him like that at all. He’s really annoying. There’s never going to be anything between us.”

Damn it . What were you going to do now?

“I couldn't find his Instagram, but take a look at this,” your aunt said, handing you her phone as you started reading an article from two years ago:

Suguru Geto: One of Tokyo’s Most Talented Tattoo Artists

If you ever find yourself in Tokyo and have a hankering for a tattoo, you must visit Suguru Geto, the owner of the shop Cursed Spirit.

This man, who developed an interest in tattooing from the age of ten, was reputedly very good at drawing from a young age. By the time he was sixteen, he began working as an assistant to the legendary tattoo artist Genji Sando. After a short period of developing his skills, he started tattooing people.

Every tattoo he has done so far is designed by him down to the finest detail. Despite working on much larger and more complex tattoos than small and minimal ones, there is nothing that this thirty year old attractive man could do badly. Although we have been chasing him for an interview for a long time, today he welcomed us at his studio, which he opened five years ago, for INKED MAGAZINE.

Seeing the photo at the bottom of the article made your whole body tense.

In this photo taken while he was tattooing someone, he looked perhaps his most alluring. His grip on the machine, the black rubber gloves on his hands, his serious face focused on his work.

You handed the phone back to your aunt before you could get any more foolish thoughts. “Yes, he’s a tattoo artist and very talented one. Is there any other question would you like to ask?”

Your aunt was intently focused on the picture on the phone. “God created men and definitely sent this guy as an apology ”

Great! another woman captivated by Suguru Geto’s charm…

“Uhmm, didn’t you forget you’re engaged? You’re even getting married soon, right?”

“Are you jealous because what I said about your man?” As she said this, your aunt had a sly smile on her face.

“My man? He is not my man. Why would I be jealous of someone I don't have anyway? Besides, if you want, he can be yours. I have no interest in someone 12 years older than me.”

Well that was a big fucking lie. You have a interest of someone really older than you. And that someone is none other than your favorite professor Kento Nanami…

“If this guy is going to be your man, then I think the 12-year age difference doesn’t matter at all.” This woman was clearly mocking you!

“Even tough I have said it before, I would like to state that again; He-is-not-my-man. We don’t even like each other. He just did me a favor by giving me his jacket yesterday and drove me home.”

You knew your aunt wasn’t paying any attention to you. She was probably already planning to marry you in her mind.

“He even drove you home? How romantic… A real gentleman. Wait a second, I’m getting it now. You’re avoiding meeting anyone because of Suguru, right?”

You could never win an argument with her. You responded with a resigned tone, “If I say yes, Will this make you happy.”

“Yes!”

You figured a small lie wouldn’t hurt. You could tell her you liked Suguru to get her off your back for a few months. Then, you could say your feelings had faded and close the subject.

You began denying everything like a suspect in an interrogation. “Fine, okay. I like him. He’s older and more experienced, but there’s a mutual attraction between us. Even though I’ve known him for two years, our closeness is only recent. I didn’t want to tell you while there was nothing concrete yet. But I do like him. And because of that I asked you not to set me up with anyone.”

Your aunt, now immensely happy, said, “Sweetheart, you have no idea how thrilled I am. My little princess is finally interested in someone. And you were saying serious relationships are nonsense since the beginning of our meeting. Oh god now start from the beginning and tell me how you met with him…”

Even though you felt bad for lying to your aunt, you had no other choice. It annoyed you that everything had come to this point because of a jacket, but at least everything was okay for now.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The rest of Sunday had gone by quite peacefully. After talking to your aunt about Suguru, you had asked how the wedding preparations were going. Their wedding was in about three months. They weren’t planning a big event. They wanted a simple celebration in the backyard of their detached house. When she asked you to design her dress, you had happily agreed. You had been working on the dress ever since you got home, but you weren’t satisfied with anything you’d drawn. It couldn’t be too flashy, but at the same time, it shouldn’t look too old-fashioned either.

Ugh, being a perfectionist was so hard.

Finally, you gave up and got up from the table where you’d been drawing in the living room. Your body was screaming for nicotine. You headed to your balcony, perhaps your favorite place in the apartment, even if it was small. You’d come here whenever you wanted to clear your head, even if it wasn’t to smoke. Despite often forgetting to tend to them, your potted plants and the small wooden table with two chairs your aunt had given you made the space look quite bohemian. It feels different from the other parts of the house.

You sat down in your chair, grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the table, and lit it. The sky, with its reddish hue, warmed the cold December day. “I should go to bed early today,” you thought. You had classes in the morning. Plus, you needed to return that damn jacket as soon as possible.

After finishing your cigarette, you went back inside and took a short shower. Since it was only around 7, you decided to study for a bit. Studying economics wasn’t something you had really wanted to do. Out of your options, economics had seemed the most sensible. You also had a scholarship, so you weren’t a burden on your aunt. Sometimes you wondered what would’ve happened if you had chosen to study art, but you knew you couldn’t have gotten in. Studying economics was less risky.

As you opened your notes for your Introduction to Financial Management class, a notification popped up on your phone beside you.

Sis: Hey, are you free after class tomorrow?

You: I have Economic Analysis at 9. I’ll be at the seating area by the garden around 10.

Sis: Yay 🥳

Sis: If I fail statistics one more time, I’m gonna kill myself. I just want to sleep a little more on Mondays…

You: The early bird says this?

Sis: What, can’t I have Monday blues too?

You: Oh God, are you in your pms?

Sis: Probably . It feels like everything around me is annoying.

You: Ouch.

Sis: Except you, of course :) Anyway, see you tomorrow, baby, love you.

You: Love you too.

After closing your phone, you focused on your studies. Around 11, you reminded yourself it was time to end this torture and go to bed. You crawled into bed and let yourself drift off into the arms of sleep.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Your 9 a.m. class had gone well. You were heading quickly to the seating area to meet your best friend. When you arrived, you saw Iris was already there.

“Hey, I want to say good morning, but it seems like it’s still not morning for you…”

Iris, looking tired, said, “Could you have possibly brought a black coffee?”

Laughing, you pulled out your thermos from your bag. Iris’s mood seemed to instantly improve.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver! Normally, I’m the one who takes on these motherly duties. I think I’m resigning from being a mom for today.” She took a sip of coffee as soon as she finished her sentence.

“Alright, I think I can manage my own needs for today. How was your class?”

Your best friend replied in a frustrated tone, “Boring… But I can’t fail this class again. It’s so hard to endure this torture.”

“You know you need to study to not fail, right?” you said teasingly.

“You bitch, why do you always have to be so right?”

“I’m usually right about most things.”

“Okay, okay… Anyway, I have some news!”

You noticed Iris was looking really excited. “What happened?”

“Well, as much as it sucks that I failed the statistics class, I guess it’s a good thing I failed.”

“Are you sleep-deprived, Iris?”

Iris laughed. “No, no… Look, there’s this guy in my statistics class…”

“Yeah…?”

“He’s one year younger and so freaking handsome. I really want to talk to him...”

You knew Iris was shy about these kinds of things. Meeting new people was hard for her. Even though she had opened up more compared to the early years of your friendship, she still had her shyness. She had never had a boyfriend before, and you knew how much that stressed her out.

“Sweetie, look, you’re beautiful. You’re funny, smart, and thoughtful. I don’t think any guy would pass up on a girl like you. I think you should talk to him.” You said this as you pulled out a cigarette from your bag and lit it.

“Easier said than done… You know how much these things stress me out. And I’ve never had a boyfriend. He’s probably… switching girls every month.”

In an exasperated tone, you said, “You don’t even know the guy yet, Iris. You need to make a move to get to know him. So, when’s your next class with him?”

“Thursday.”

“Great, after Thursday’s class, catch him and ask him something related to the lesson. Then see if he’s free for coffee. If he is, ask him to grab a coffee.”

Iris nervously started playing with the lid of the thermos. “That would be amazing… Do you think it’s bad if I make the first move?”

“Of course not! There’s no rule that says guys always have to make the first move. Drop those silly girl bullshits and show him you’re interested, babe.”

Your best friend, now encouraged, said, “Okay, I’ll do it. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? If I don’t like him, we just won’t meet again.”

“That’s my girl!”

Iris smiled happily. “How was your meeting with your aunt yesterday?”

After taking a drag from your cigarette, you said, “Oh, it was nice. She asked me to design her wedding dress. She wants to wear a simple dress instead of a wedding gown.”

Iris’s eyes widened. “Babe, that’s amazing news! And I can’t think of anyone better than you to design it.”

“I don’t know. I drew a few things yesterday, but I don’t think any of them reflect her.”

Iris took a sip of the coffee from the thermos. “Look, I don’t know much about design, but nothing you make could be bad. I’m sure you’ll come up with something great. You’ve still got time.”

“We’ll see.” Then you asked the question you’d been wanting to ask since yesterday, “By the way, can you give me that jerk’s number?”

Iris raised an eyebrow, “That jerk?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I’m talking about Geto.”

Your best friend laughed. “Oh, right, Sugu… Wait, why do you want his number?”

Here comes the explanation, you thought to yourself. “He gave me his jacket on Saturday so I wouldn’t get cold. I was thinking of giving it back to him. Actually, could you take it to him instead?”

“HE GAVE YOU HIS JACKET? OH MY GOD, HOW DID I MISS THIS? I KNEW THAT SUGURU DOESN’T HATE YOU. I WAS ACTUALLY SO HAPPY THAT HE DROVE YOU HOME BECAUSE…”

While Iris was excitedly talking, you were wondering when she would stop. Why was she so happy? Did she really think you were going to start getting along? If she expected that, she was seriously mistaken because you were going to be even colder toward him than before.

“Anyway, I would give it to him, but I think you should.”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her. “And why is that?”

“This is a great opportunity for you two to get along. Like I said that night, even though Sugu comes off as tough, he’s probably one of the most gentlemanly guys.”

Iris looked at her phone and stood up. “Look, I have to get to my next class, but I’ll send you his number, okay? Love you, see you later.”

“Hey, who said I want to get along with him?” You shouted after your best friend, but she was already walking into the school building. You were sure she heard you but chose to ignore it.

“Damn it!” you muttered to yourself. Five minutes later, you got a text from Iris. She had sent Suguru’s number.

You really didn’t want to text him. All you wanted was to give him back his jacket and be done with it.

You: Hey! I got your number from Iris. If you’re free today, I was thinking of giving you your jacket back.

Okay, that was a pretty clear message.

Realizing you had only 10 minutes until your class started, you stood up from the table and quickly walked to the classroom. You thought he might reply by the time you got out of class.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Quite a bit of time had passed. Even though you attended your remaining two classes, there was still no message from Suguru. It was almost 3.30.

You wondered if you should text him again. Maybe calling would be better. You stared at the call button, undecided whether to press it or not. There was this inexplicable mix of anxiety and anger coursing through you. Why were you making such a big deal about returning a jacket? He had probably forgotten he even gave it to you. Yet, the fact that you still had something of his was bothering you. Get a grip, you told yourself.

When you finally pressed the call button, you heard, “The person you are trying to reach is unavailable.”

Maybe the universe really didn’t want the two of you to talk.

You didn’t want to wait any longer for a reply from Suguru. You were sure he had seen your message. Growing more frustrated, you thought about going to his shop. But you couldn’t quite remember the name. Just like your aunt had done before, you decided to search Suguru’s name online.

A few articles and an Instagram account called @cursedspiritshop popped up.

When you opened the account, there were tons of photos showcasing beautiful tattoos. As you scrolled down, you saw a photo with three people in it, including Suguru. Yeah, this was his shop. You opened the location listed in the bio. It wasn’t far from your apartment. It would probably take about 20 minutes to grab the jacket and head there.

You left school and made your way home. When you arrived, you quickly unlocked the door, grabbed the jacket from the coat rack, and locked the door again.

Shit. His scent was still on it. At least after returning it, you’d be free of this lingering reminder that was bothering you.

You left your apartment, flagged down an empty taxi, and gave the driver the address. It took less time than you expected to reach the shop.

Even though the shop was in Shinjuku, it wasn’t on a particularly busy street. Holding the jacket in your hand, you walked up to the shop’s entrance.

When you entered, you were greeted by the sound of jazz music and the buzzing of a tattoo machine. To your left was a small waiting area. In front of you was a hallway, and to your right, stairs leading to the upper floor. No one was at the entrance. Even though you knew you should wait there, your curiosity got the best of you, and you directed your steps toward the corridor ahead. The walls of the hallway were lined with many photographs. You had seen these men while browsing the shop’s Instagram account. They were the other people working with Suguru. Looking at the moments captured of them tattooing others, traveling to different countries, and having fun by themselves or with people they love filled you with a warm feeling.

But one particular photo caught your eye. You knew the people in that picture very well.

Suguru, Iris, and Satoru were in the photo, and it was probably old. Suguru and Satoru were wearing school uniforms. Iris had a big smile on her face. Satoru was turned toward Suguru, seemingly complaining about something. And Suguru… He was laughing with his eyes closed, perhaps in the most genuine way you had ever seen. Everyone looked so natural and beautiful that you wished you could be there in that moment.

Someone coming out of the room at the end of the corridor noticed you looking at the photos.

“Did you like the photos miss?”

You were so lost in thought that you flinched slightly when you heard the voice and turned your head toward the man in the photos on the wall.

“Uh, yes… They look great.”

Taking off the black gloves on his hands as he walked toward you, the man spoke again. “The boss thought it would be nice to decorate this wall with memories we love, so he came up with this idea. At first, it seemed a bit too crowded to me, but this has become my favorite spot in the shop.” When he finally reached you, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you miss, I’m Choso.” You reached out your hand as well and introduced yourself. Then you asked, “Is Suguru Geto here by any chance?”

“Oh, the boss? He’s not here right now. He only has appointments at 8 and 9 today. But he’ll be here in a couple of hours. Would you like to wait miss?”

Damn my timing, you thought. But perhaps waiting for a couple of hours wouldn’t hurt.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Please, head to the room in front. I’ll go make some coffee and join you miss.” The man, who you now knew as Choso, quickly disappeared into the entrance area.

When you entered the room, you were greeted by a spacious area. You noticed two tattoo chairs. One had a customer in it, and another man was giving him a tattoo.

Without lifting his head, the tattooist asked, “Welcome, did you have an appointment?”

“Oh no, I’m looking for the Geto uhm i mean boss.”

“He’s not here at the moment, but he’ll be here in a few hours. If you want to wait—”

“Yes, I know. The guy who came out of the this room just told me to wait in here. Is that okay for you?”

“Of course, please have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs across from him.

You thanked him and sat down. You began to study the room. There were various drawings of mythical creatures hanging on the off white walls. To the left of the chair you were sitting in was a computer and a copy machine. Next to the tattoo chairs were two antique wooden tables holding the necessary equipment. The room was beautiful. It had a unique atmosphere.

Five minutes later, Choso entered the room, holding cups in his hands.

“It seems you like observing your surroundings miss?”

You hadn’t realized how much you were admiring the place. You got up to help Choso by taking the other cup and placing it on the table in front of the couch.

“Well, I don’t usually, but this place is really nice. I thought Geto had no taste.”

Both Choso and the tattooist burst out laughing.

“Oh, did you hear that, Ichiro? Someone finally agrees with us.”

Without lifting his head from his work, the tattooist, Ichiro, said, “I never thought I’d live to see the day…”

Choso turned to you and said, “The boss is definitely a tasteless guy. This room was decorated by me and Ichiro. Thankfully the boss was considerate enough to let us handle it.”

Curiously, you asked Choso, “How long have you been working here?”

“I’ve been here for four years miss. And this kid,” he pointed at the tattooist, “has been here for almost a year. He’s the boss’s assistant. Still an apprentice, but his work is pretty good.”

“Awww, are you praising me, Choso?”

Choso rolled his eyes, “Once you’re done with your work, I’ll show you what real praise looks like.”

“Bring it on, emo boy,” Ichiro replied, giving Choso a mischievous grin. “Alright, it’s done, Jun!” Ichiro told his client as he finished the tattoo, while Choso turned to you, “So, what brings you here, miss?”

God, why was this guy so polite?

“Oh, please, no need to be formal. Well, I came to give something to the boss.”

“Oh, I see. Is it the jacket you’re holding?”

Your gaze shifted to the jacket. “Yeah. Uh, he gave it to me…”

“Hmmm, so the boss finally got himself a girlfriend after all this time?”

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong. I’m not his girlfriend. I never will be. God forbid! Who would want to date someone like him?”

Choso burst out laughing again. “I liked you, doll. You’ve got a good sense of humor.”

“Thanks… I guess.”

“Oh no, I should be thanking you. I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.”

“Alright, now that my client’s gone, I guess I can join you guys…” You hadn’t even noticed the client leaving, but now Ichiro had joined your conversation too.

You didn’t know how long you had been talking, but chatting with these guys had really entertained you. They had shared everything about their lives, from how they got into this business to how they met Suguru. Right now, you were all laughing, listening to Ichiro tell a story about the time he had a threesome while drunk.

“God, it was so bad… Who throws up during sex? AND ON THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF MY LIFE! THE DAY I FINALLY HAD A THREESOME. UGH, GOD…”

Laughing, you replied, “Was having a threesome really the most important day of your life?”

“What do you expect from this kid? He loses his mind as soon as he sees boobs and ass. Throw in another pair, and of course, he lost it,” Choso added, laughing.

“Hey, don’t act like you wouldn’t lose it too! I’m telling you, they were so soft, and—”

A throat clearing sound abruptly interrupted the conversation. All three of you turned to see Geto standing at the entrance, looking at you as if to say, what the hell is going on here? You could sense that he was slightly shocked to see you there.

Ichiro broke the silence, saying, “Boss, welcome! We were just waiting for you with doll here.”

Geto’s angry gaze fixed on Ichiro. “Doll?”

“Uh, I mean your guest,” Ichiro said, pointing towards you.

You just stared at Geto, unsure of what to do. It seemed he was not at all pleased with your presence.

“So, doll huh…” His eyes roamed over you again. Then he continued, “I think monkey brain suits her better, don’t you think?”

Huh.

No one spoke. Ichiro and Choso seemed taken aback by Geto’s reaction. Meanwhile, you were plotting how to strangle Geto.

This was definitely a declaration of war. But you had no intention of losing.

As you looked at Choso and Ichiro, you said, “Oh, don’t mind your boss. His social skills are so underdeveloped that he prefers to call me monkey brain as a compliment. After all, he adores me.”

A small smirk appeared on Geto’s face. “Oh, you’re definitely wrong, monkey brain. I call you that because you’re utterly useless. Incompetent, a burden to others, and just like a monkey, you act like a fool, seeking attention like a little clown…”

The room fell into a deathly silence. No one said a word.

Staring at Geto with a soulless expression, you replied, “Despite how incompetent and needy for attention i am, it seems like you’ve forgotten what happened on Saturday.” You stood up while holding the leather jacket, and walked slowly towards Geto. The smirk on his face had vanished, replaced with an expression like someone anticipating their opponent’s next move, full of fury.

“Oh, or did you forget? The way you ogled every detail of the black dress I was wearing. How, when you dropped me off at my place, your eyes were glued to my ass as I left…” You raised yourself onto your tiptoes, leaning in close enough that only he could hear your next words. “But most importantly, the jacket you gave me. Not just because I was cold, but because you wanted me to remember your scent, didn’t you, Geto?” Then you pulled away.

There was a look in Suguru’s eyes that you couldn’t quite identify. It was like he wanted to destroy you. Relishing in your small victory, you said, “Anyway, here’s your jacket. I don’t want anything of yours to remain with me. The sooner I return it, the better. Thanks again for Saturday, Geto.” You turned to Choso and Ichiro, whose mouths were hanging open. “It was nice meeting you, guys. Let’s hang out sometime. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a while.” Finally, you turned back to Geto, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips, knowing how much it would irritate him, and you headed towards the exit.

You knew he was seething inside. But there was nothing you enjoyed more than tearing down a know-it-all jerk, especially when that jerk was Suguru Geto.

You were just about to open the front door and leave when a hand suddenly grabbed your arm.

Suguru pinned you hard against the door (for a moment, you thought the glass might break), his arms on either side of you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I came to return your jacket.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Even though he wasn’t yelling, his voice was full of fury.

“Why would I lie? I even texted you, but I guess you preferred to ignore my message and call, Geto.”

He had look on his face as if he hadn’t even known about your message or call. “How did you get my number?”

“Are you stupid? I got it from Iris. Don’t worry, I didn’t even save it. I have no use for your number.”

“Then how did you find this place?”

“And you call me monkey brain? I just Googled your name and found the shop. It wasn’t that hard. Oh, and congrats on the Inked Magazine interview. Not everyone can pull that off.”

A grin appeared on Geto’s face for some reason you couldn’t understand. “Uh, were you researching me, brat? You could’ve just asked Iris where I worked, but you didn’t. That’s because you were curious about me, weren’t you? Tell me, do you remember that interview? Ah, if not, let me remind you because I’m sure I know which part piqued your interest the most.” Your body stiffened. He noticed this, and you knew he was enjoying it. He continued, “They asked me what type of women I liked. I told them I preferred confident, intelligent, and mature women. God knows, how sad you were when you read that because you’re none of those things, brat.”

As he pulled his face away, you regretted every word you had said. How could I have been so careless? you thought. You had basically admitted to stalking him. Even though your aunt had actually found the article, you knew saying that now would only make things worse. Shit. It looked like today’s battle wasn’t going to end in the victory you had anticipated.

“Look at me, brat. Look into my eyes,” he ordered, and despite not wanting to, you obeyed. “Don’t ever come here again. Don’t talk to my colleagues . Whatever sneaky plans you’ve got, forget about them. Now, get the hell out of here.”

You were breathing hard, furious. You wanted to strangle yourself for letting him win. Without looking back, you walked out the door and kept walking. Only nicotine could calm you down right now. Lighting a cigarette, you took a long drag. You had made a huge mistake. You had made yourself look like a pathetic person who was stalking him. That thought plagued you all the way to the subway.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

As soon as you got home, you went to the living room and threw yourself onto the couch in frustration. You covered your face with your hands, trying to process what had happened.

Every time you remembered how that jerk had made you feel like a fucking stalker, your face turned red with anger.

You had wanted to break your fingers when you searched his name online. Why hadn’t you asked Iris where is his shop? Then you remembered him mentioning the article about himself you searched for, and you let out a small scream.

You needed to get a grip. You got up from where you were lying, took off your jacket, and hung it on the coat rack by the entrance. When you returned to the living room, you took your phone out of your bag and went to your messages. The messages you had sent Suguru still appeared unread. What a jerk. He acted like ignoring messages was cool. After deleting the conversation from your message box, you had done perhaps the stupidest thing you could do.

You had opened Suguru’s Inked Magazine article and navigated to the interview section that he claimed to have read but you hadn’t.

R: Well, Mr. Geto, how about we move on to questions about your personal life?

SG: Ah, my least favorite…

R: Please, the people who are crazy about you have been searching for answers to these questions for years. First of all, what kind of women do you like?

SG: I don’t know if I have a specific type. But when I meet someone who is intelligent, mature, and confident, they attract me.

R: Hmm, that was quite fiery, Mr. Geto. Another question; despite having an Instagram account for your shop, we couldn’t find your personal account. Could it be that a lady in your life might not want it?

SG: My colleague who works with me suggested creating an account for the shop to reach a wider audience. I never supported it at first. I don’t understand these things, I’m not someone who looks at their phone much. I told him to do whatever he wanted. Although I don’t want to admit it, it was probably the right decision. We can now reach a larger audience. It made appointment scheduling easier for us. But I guess that’s not what you’re really interested in.

R: Haha, definitely not.

SG: Well, no, I don’t have anyone in my life. I never considered and don’t plan to consider creating an account for myself. Even if I did, I wouldn’t close it for anyone.

After reading the interview, you received a notification from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Are you rereading the interview to refresh your memory, brat?

HOLY.SHIT

Even though Satoru always said his instincts were strong, it seemed Suguru’s were even stronger.

Fuck, how could he have guessed?

You: I don’t even care about you and your stupid interview. And congratulations you finally found the message section on your phone!

The reply came quickly.

Unknown Number: Oh, it didn’t look like that when you told me you read it.

Unknown Number: I woke up at 4 pm today. I got ready and came to the shop as soon as I got up. Only now I was able to check my phone.

You: I don’t care about your explanation. I’d be very happy if you didn’t write again, Geto 🙂

Unknown Number: I wanted to ask if you got home, otherwise, why would I write to you?

You: Why does it matter to you whether I went home or not?

Unknown Number: I’m not that bad of a guy, brat. Are you at home?

You: Yes.

He had only marked your message as seen. You clicked on “Save Contact” and changed his name to “Suguru Geto.”

You didn’t know why you saved him. Even though you had said you wouldn’t need his number, your body had done it independently.

As if it knew you might need it in the future…

➵ taglist: @miakxn @sukunadckrider @mooncalvin @kailivi

(suguru geto art by @pipa.zip on insta)

@lilacbunnygirl don't copy or translate my story

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

ꔫ Ch: 4 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. things get get cheeky... teehee.

-> (TW): Allusions to domestic violence/abuse (L.O.A + Beron), eris has trauma flashbacks, sexual tension? maybe? someone read it and tell me pls. eris practically pining for reader but simultaneously pissing her off, reader x eris finally kiss, raahh!!

W/C: 3.5k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: UHM... guys... please ignore that i last posted in April or something... double degrees are not for the weak 😔✊OOH! ALSO: you two share a kiss- :O -and reader likes it >:D did I pull an all-nighter for this chapter, AND almost finish up to chapter six in one night? ... yes. do i also have an important exam in 5 hours? ... also yes. i couldn't help myself- I missed writing, okay?! anyway, pls pls pls, don't be afraid to comment & let me know what you liked, disliked or loved!!

You had both sat on the ledge of the ampitheatre, taking in the peaceful quiet, enjoying the nature that surrounded you both before you huffed softly at how ‘casual’ the setting was. A pretty patterned rug was laid out to be sat on, with porcelain cups, dishes, and all sorts of rich, fancy-fae delicacies: tea cakes of different shapes, flavours and colours; neatly cut sandwiches with different pastes, spices and fillings.

“Where’s your little throne?”

You nodded, not waiting for him before picking a sandwich to take a bite of- your stomach fluttering when you didn’t taste poison, but rather a delightful taste combination. He grinned slyly and clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment as he poured you and himself tea that smelt like bergamot and honey.

“Would have been too big for my servants to winnow, I’m afraid.”

His tone was airy and snobbish- as if he had read your mind, thus playing along to the tune of your harsh assumptions- so you rolled your eyes, food pushed into the side of your mouth to mumble out, “Figured you would have used some of them as footstools and makeshift seats instead.”

Eris huffed, before thinking over the weight of your snark which drew a chuckle that dissolved into a soft laugh of disbelief. You ignored the way the sound made your insides flutter- or perhaps that was just organ failure. He looked at you incredulously, shaking his auburn covered head as he filled your plate, then his.

“Is that what you truly think of me?”

You continued to chew, your face expressive enough to fill the silence, which made him chuckle more.

“I certainly have underestimated you, little swan,” You grumbled at the ‘feigned’ endearment, but it didn’t deter him, “You are not merely a pretty face at all. You also possess a delightful, deadly fire. Now, whether it makes you stupidly brave, or bravely stupid, I’m not sure. Even worse, I’m not sure if that intrigues me, or irritates me.” He hummed, and it seemed to stoke ‘said fire’ within you- your own pride being stroked, so you gave him a bemused half-smirk,

“Why not both?”

He raised an eyebrow at your rather coy tone, and you almost thought you liked that ‘slightly startled, slightly intrigued’ look he wore, before you remembered what he was- who he was- and looked away disinterestedly. But you knew him; or at least, knew he was trained in the arts of charming females as if it was as easy as breathing. Something in your gut told you he liked those that played ‘hard-to-get’ and the feelings that festered and stewed made you confused. Again, as if he was reading your mind, he answered accordingly:

“Almost sounds like you’re flirting with me, darling.” His serve. So the match starts.

A scoff, accompanied by a simple shake of your head. “Spare me. Just how exactly have you made it this far in life, lordling?” A simple hit back into his court.

“Is that admiration I hear?” A lazy return.

“You wish it was.” Shaking your head as you sipped the sweet, citrusy tea he poured. A back-hand swing with a bit of force.

“I do, actually. If it means you’ll stop being so shrewd.” Parried back wonderfully, much to your dismay.

“Is this how you usually find ladies to court? By acting like an arse.” You ask flatly, and he pauses. Victory.

You smirk, glancing down at the tea cup, before the silence goes on for too long. Your lips tug into a frown, but you don’t look up. Is he angry? Something tugs at your stomach, then your chest, and you finally look back up at him, only to catch him staring at you with an expression you didn’t recognise. You straightened- almost angry at yourself for feeling nervous. But you didn’t know him. Didn’t know his moods, his temperaments. Didn’t know what he did in his spare time.

The lordling seemed to sense your fidgeting and looked away; out towards the view of the sprawling Autumn colours that dotted the trees on the horizon.

“... So… what brought you to the Autumn Court?”

You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow, before remembering you had told him you weren’t from here.

“Apparently, as a baby, I was dropped off at an orphanage near the place I live now, with some sort of Summer Court emblem and a scarf. However, I’ve got no ties, no leads to any family that I know of, and I haven’t sought them out either.” He watched you as you spoke, and before you could comment or add more, he beat you to it.

“How miserable.”

You flinched before stilling, blinking repeatedly at him. How… miserable?

Disbelief contorted your face as you looked at him like he had grown three heads. Did he just-?

Eris simply watched you, tilting his head slightly, his russet eyes meeting yours in a stare that wasn’t hostile; rather, it was him trying to figure you out like some sort of puzzle. However, his random response had caught you off guard, making you chuckle softly, before you covered your mouth quickly, only to hold your head in your hands as you began to genuinely laugh.

“Have I misspoke?”

You laughed more at his polite yet confused tone, shaking your head as you tried to control yourself, only to laugh more, which spurred a few chuckles from the male sitting across from you.

“Hold on- I only meant it in the sense that-”

“No, no!” You forced out as you gasped for air, trying to reign in your amusement as you watched him watch you again, with him seeming oddly… content with how you laughed at him.

“I… I get it. Honestly, Eris- Sorry… ‘Lord’ Eris-” He rolled his eyes, waving a hand as you continued,

“How in the Cauldron did you make it this far in life?” You chuckled again, while he flashed a strangely sweet, cheeky smile. It was almost endearing. Almost.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘through uncanny wit and dazzling charm?’” His dryness made you snicker, before a small smile grew on your face. He hummed as you did so, looking down at his hand while you caught yourself staring again; both of you sitting in the silence as you briefly self-reflected. Why was he being funny? Why could he make you laugh simply… simply by being himself?Why was it so easy to get lost in staring at him? You continued to watch him- not knowing how intensely your eyes twinkled, nor the way it made his blood heat in a way that surprised him. Yet, he caught you, finally.

“[Y/N] darling, if you keep staring at me like that, it might put ideas in my head.” He mused, and you jerked your head away instantly, hearing him snicker as you rolled your eyes.

“Why won’t you let yourself enjoy today, little swan?” He teased, but your response wasn’t as light.

“If I do, it will mean that I am as easy, and as useless as all the others that you manage to bewitch. I simply won’t let that happen.” You replied hollowly, a small part of you not even believing your own answer. Eris sucked his tooth, watching you with a nod as if you had said something truly confounding, before he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Alright. Let’s walk.” Eris nodded at you, before offering a hand with a sly smile, waiting for you to move. You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow before deciding to take his hand- unlike the carriage, where he practically lifted you like it was nothing- pulling yourself up.

What the hell would a walk do?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Tell me honestly, swan. Why do you dislike me- not my family- but me, so heavily?” Eris encouraged the dancer to speak freely as you both walked down the hill. He noticed the way your eyes avoided his, instead mapping out all the different shades of brown, orange and red leaves. He watched you shrug, and internally pulled at his hair. What had you so reserved?

He wanted to say something- taunt you, tease you, even trick you into speaking- but when you hesitated, looking at the ground for an answer that wouldn’t be so easily given, he shut up immediately. It was only when you tried to avoid the question that something triggered within him to reach for and grab your arm; grabbing gently, merely to pull you back to where he had stopped walking.

“Hey-” You had snapped, baring your teeth before pulling your arm away, the action making his heart race as you did so. How wonderful- when your eyes gleamed the way they did. Did you even know how beautiful you looked? When you looked at him like you wanted to throttle him? Or, what about when you had laughed so freely before, and his brain had completely blanked?

Eris sighed wistfully, determined to crack the nut that was your eccentric, explosive enigma of a mind. 

“When you do things like that- acting like you just have some claim on me- I don’t like it.So when you do it often, or other things I don’t like, it makes it easier to dislike you.” You spoke succinctly, and he couldn’t argue with that. At least you answered him. Yet Eris watched you anyway, hoping you’d continue. When he stayed silent, he realised his staring made you nervous as you wiped your hands on your dress, delicate hands grabbing at the fabric to fidget as you pushed yourself to answer his initial question.

He willed his expression to be neutral as you began to speak- the words spilling from your lip like a fast flowing river. But his restraint was in vain- before he knew it, he was absolutely entranced by your thoughts and ideas. The way you spoke about your studies- the passion, the assertiveness you carried as you listed the criticisms your ‘surrogate mother Ordelia’ had helped you draft in an assignment; an ‘unsent response’ to his father’s unfair increase of land tax, and the random raids or ‘removals’ that always seemed to happen towards the end of the day, targeting certain fae of non-native identities. He had to remind himself to meet with this fae. She sounded like quite the female.

You had told Eris about the families that were getting displaced- how people were terrified to leave their homes because of these new restrictions- and his brain spun like a spinning top. You dared compare Beron’s treatment to the tyrant of a female that had held Prythian hostage for almost fifty years prior, and his nostrils flared, but he stayed silent. Did you realise what you were saying? How brave, how brilliant- how possibly stupid it was? Being so bold saying these ideas so freely? He almost felt liberated from the confines of his own mind- where, for too long, he had been too afraid to dare bring light to these thoughts of his own.

Eris didn’t dare stop you, so you continued, even scolding Eris himself on his ‘petty blackmail’ of your ballet instructor- he decided there and then that he wanted you to criticise and chastise him like that all the time- advocating for the old studio, and the children who used it to escape poverty in their own villages, in their own homes. Unbeknownst to you, the heir seemed to fall more and more in love with every word you said. He figured it would probably be his demise if he were to compliment you on your ideas- you seemed to treat anything he said as a callous taunt, or cruel mockery. But the heir couldn’t help himself as he exhaled softly.

“Brilliant.”

He nodded, watching you intensely, before shaking his head with a scoff, looking away.

“Ballerinas are doing politics now,” And you’re somehow doing them in the way he had always dreamed of, “What a world we live in.” He would have happily sung your praises from the treetops. He was prepared to present your ideas- your works to his father and call him out on his tirade. So why was it that, when he looked back at you, you looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and disappointment?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“You weren’t listening to a single word, were you?” The disappointment in your voice was almost laughable. You felt bitterness coat your tongue like film as you observed the heir. There it was. That feigned incredulity, the false intrigue and interest. In his eyes, like so many other males, all you’d ever be recognised as was just a pretty little ballerina. A pretty female, with pretty eyes, hips for child-rearing, and a figure that was easy on the eyes.

“[Y/N]... You- you have just recited every single measure I have ever wanted to implement.” He had stopped walking to watch your disappointment manifest, and he shook his head again, reaching for you before hesitating as you whipped back to glare at him. Well… at least he listened to one thing.

“I don’t need your pity, lordling.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“Oh, boohoo!” You snapped, glaring up at the heir, “I know what you see in me- what your ‘expectations’ are. You want me to sit still and be pretty while I have to be subjected to this- this stupid ball with all these rich, ignorant nobles who-”

“Who couldn’t give a damn about the people who starve right outside their doors, right?” He finished your sentence- he cut you off, and you paused.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, [Y/N]. I know what you’re thinking. I’ve thought the exact same- down to the letter, every damned day.” He grabbed you, and your eyes narrowed, ready to warn him off you when he interjected again.

“Just- listen.” He snapped, and your mouth shut, even as you glared daggers up at him, “Do you know how exhausting it is, having to carry the burdens of that bastard?” Your eyes widened.

Was this real? Where the Hell had this come from? You opened your mouth, but he put his hand over it,

“Just wait before you spit in my face, stubborn thing.” He hissed, before continuing,

“We are… The Vanserra family… it is not glorious, and- and luxurious, and absolutely ignorant.” He was hardly fluent, hesitating and restarting the sentence. It felt wrong, unnerving. This was not the pompous, cocky, ‘typical’ arrogant noble who had half of the Autumn Court’s female population vying for him. This wasn’t the smug, dominant asshole who had watched you dance, and snidely spoke to you in the hallway of your ballet studio.

No.

This was the male- the son- who had snarled at you in the carriage when you tried to slander the Lady of the Autumn Court. There- you saw it again- that vulnerability, that hollowness that hid behind his eyes every time he stood next to his father; whether it was during royal festivals or important ceremonies. The oldest Vanserra son had gone- gotten trapped in a memory; somewhere dark, somewhere hostile and hurtful. So you decided there and then, regardless of the dislike you held for him, that you’d  hold him and wait.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Sounds of fists landing hits, a cacophony of muffled crashing and banging came from behind the closed door that Eris waited at tearfully- willing his child self to march in there and defend his mother, only to be completely stuck; paralysed by fear.

Warmth came from somewhere, somewhere distant, and there was the dull echo of a voice that made his chest tighten.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

You watched him grow distant, his eyes losing their usual gleam- not that you cared to notice, as you’d easily deny. Something made your hands move on their own, pulling his hand off your mouth so you could grab them in yours, watching him with emotions that made your stomach knot and shrivel.

“Eris?”

You called again, and he jerked- the abrupt movement making you flinch while the heir exhaled shakily. As he looked back down at you, he saw the way you held his hands, initiating contact. When he moved, you followed his gaze, unsure why you were still holding onto him. You did that, all of your own accord. You did it, yet you weren’t sure why.

Eris swallowed thickly- you even watched the way his throat bobbed, before his hands slowly, shakily cupped your face. Your eyes never left him; you didn’t move to push him away either. What had he seen? Where had he gone?

“[Y/N] [L/N].” Your heart jerked as he murmured your name- the timbre of his voice low, soul-wrenching as his russet irises bore into yours.

“I want you to meet my father. I want-... I want you to meet him, and tell him exactly what you told me.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head,

“No- Not on your life-”

“Please.”

Again, his lips had come close to yours, like they had in the carriage, and you felt yourself go deathly still.

“Eris?”

“Please, [Y/N].”

“Eris-”

“You’re brilliant.” The male breathed, his eyes scanning you quickly, almost anxiously, like he was afraid your attention would shift away from him. You were brilliant? He thought… he thought you were brilliant. You swallowed, eyes fluttering as you looked up at him, stare never breaking. Looking into his eyes, being so close, it felt like you were staring down at a body of water at the bottom of a cliff. Was it shallow? Were there hidden rocks- jagged, hungry for bones to shatter? Was this what leaps of faith were?

“You don’t… you don’t care.” You shook your head stubbornly, resisting the pull.

“You- You are the most brilliant fae I know-” His serve, again.

“You’ve barely known me!” A hard knockback from yourself; the ball was in his court.

“I’ve never known anyone with a mind like yours, [Y/N].” A powerful hit back into your court.

“No.” You barely hit it back in his court, so close to crumbling.

“[Y/N]-” He fumbled.

“I’m not going to make a fool of myself in front of your father, Eris. What power do I hold?” A harsh serve to start the match.

“The knowledge you carry- the way you see the world- the way you solve problems that noblemen in my father’s court have been stuck on for years-” Your eyes widened at his words- you fumbled the hit.

“Eris- No- No! It is not my responsibility to fix your father’s inadequacies!” You snapped, pushing away gently as you looked away, your mind racing. You needed to go. Your heart- your stomach- Hell, you were even feeling the slightest bit aroused! You needed to go- needed to get away to think-

His hands grabbed you again, cupping your face and tilting your head up ever-so-gently, as if he thought you were made of porcelain.

“[Y/N].” Your mind blanked when you heard the way he pleaded- pleaded!

Well… if he said your name like that…

“Eris-” Your hands reached up to his- whether to hold, or to push away, you weren’t sure yet. The Vanserra male barely gave you a chance to decide before he sealed the gap between your lips, his eyes shutting while yours widened in shock, before promptly shutting them tight. 

He was kissing you. Eris Vanserra was kissing you. He thought you were brilliant, he thought you were 

The kiss was… It was…

You didn’t even know. It certainly felt like he was holding back- like he was trying to be a gentleman, and a small part of you appreciated the attempt as you moved your lips against his ever-so-slightly. His tongue didn’t swipe for your lip hungrily; his teeth didn’t tug at your bottom lip; nor did his hands move from where they held your face. Your body felt like it was on fire- a primal, lonely part of your brain urging him to lead, to do something. But he pulled away after the ‘virginal’ kiss, breathing heavily, as if it pained him to pull away- to hold himself back.

You stared up at him dumbly, eyes glittering in the autumn sun as you both stared at each other in something of shock and awe. Why did it feel like your heart was caving in when he kissed you? Why did it feel like the stars had aligned when he pressed his lips against yours so gently- so out of character for him?

“What was that?” You muttered, still shell-shocked, while he turned away, almost as if he was unwell. He shook his head- ignoring your question.

“Eris?” You urged, pulling on his arm impatiently before he turned back to face you, his voice a low murmur.

“[Y/N]... I want you to meet my father.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: OH GOD. okay. OKAY, I DID IT. i did it! it's done! i have posted a chapter again!! (hopefully) i can get back to my usual posting schedule!! i have 3 more exams: 12/06, 13/06 & 15/06 so i will be a lil preoccupied for at least ten days <3 again, TYSM FOR READING IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR!! <3 <3 also!! the two Loki requests are also currently being drafted as we speak!! thanks for waiting so long everyone!!