#yes it's the au i've been alluding to for months

[moraxsthrone]

TITLE — spoiled

PAIRING — dom!sugarbaby!zhongli x sub!sugarmama!f!reader

WC — 4.6k

WARNINGS — nsfw. MDNI. modern au. soft dom/sub dynamic. oral (m. & f. rcv'ing). deepthroat/facefucking. overstim. squirting. creampie.

NOTES — i always said that when (not if) zhongli came home, i would spoil him rotten. i went from having no zhongli to having him at C2 lvl 90 + staff of homa + a 2pc/2pc tenacity/noblesse set, and him being in the top 21% of zl hybrid builds on the NA server, hitting 100k+ dmg...all in less than a month. i've been good to him and he's been soooooo good to me so i wanted to write this as a celebratory, homecoming gift for my long-awaited, highly spoiled geo daddy. thanks to @crystalflygeo for the idea and inspiration! i hope i did it justice! <3

the knock comes so gently you wouldn't have heard it had you not been expecting it.

“come in,” you say, finishing the last piece of paperwork and setting your pen down on your big oak desk.

the heavy door creaks open, zhongli striding in before closing the door behind himself.

“working late again, my lady?” the young man muses with a subtle smile, looking dapper in his favorite armani suit that’s been perfectly tailored to the lean musculature of his frame.

a leaden sigh escapes your lips. “yes, but fortunately i’ve just finished. your timing is impeccable, my dear sir,” you say with a playful lilt while leaning back in your chair. “i presume i’m not the only one since someone else must’ve let you in.”

“your receptionist was just leaving as i arrived.”

“well, now that you’re here, to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“i wanted to thank you again for the handsome topaz cufflinks you procured for me yesterday at that fancy boutique-” he says in his unhurried baritone, fidgeting with one of them. zhongli sounds so commanding without even trying, making your loins stir with want. you’ve taken great pleasure in spoiling him since meeting him a couple months ago, buying him everything he’s had an eye for, as well as a lot of things he hasn’t even asked for…

“i knew you’d appreciate them, what with your exquisite taste…” you interject, admiring the way the dark orange gemstones bring out his eyes. “besides, the color becomes you.”

he smiles back, making him look more boyish. “only someone with a discerning eye for quality and beauty such as yourself would even take me to places that sell such high caliber merchandise.” he walks towards you, leaning against the front of your desk mere inches from where your arm rests. “but i want you to know that i appreciate the little things just as much, if not more so. something as simple as say…” his voice trails for a moment, “...indulging me in afternoon tea means a lot to me.”

“oh? but your company is no small thing, zhongli. i enjoy lavishing you with gifts, of course. but you give me your time and conversation in return, and that is far more valuable to me than any gift i could bestow upon you…”

“you sure?” 

your brow crinkles at his hinting tone. “what do you mean?”

he reaches out with his gloved hand, delicately cupping your jaw as his boyish smile fades. “you’re a very busy lady. your time and attention are in high demand. and yet you decide to give what little of it you have over to me. your time is far more valuable than anything you could possibly buy me, and that’s something for which i could never repay you…”

you raise your eyebrows at him in sincerity. “zhongli. as i’ve already stated, your company is more than enough-”

"my lady," he reaches for your hand and brings your dainty knuckles to his lips. “...if i may?”

your mouth drops open in surprise. though you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, you’ve never so much as alluded to the prospect of an intimate relationship with him. you’re beautiful. powerful. but also - as he’s pointed out - very busy, leaving you precious little time for meeting a suitable mate, let alone courting one. so just spending time with zhongli - listening to his captivating stories, admiring his handsome face, hearing his spell-binding voice - has been more than worth any amount of money you could spend on him.

“zhongli, w-what…?” you give into the gentle tug of his hand, standing from your chair to face him. with your hand still in his, he cups your cheek with the other while bringing his lips dangerously close to yours. “zhongli, wait,” you say, catching your breath in your throat before he can take it away. “you don’t owe me anything…”

“perhaps not, my lady,” he says, his thumb stroking your burning cheek. “but i would quite like to give you something anyway.” your eyes search his as he speaks, his gaze so comfortably heavy. “you’re beautiful,” he says, breath fanning across your lips. “you’ve been exceedingly generous to me…and i want to give you what i feel is owed to you…”

“but zhongli,” you try, your voice so small and shaky with desire, “i’ve already said you don’t owe m-”

“forgive my insolence,” he interrupts, not sounding sorry at all, “but allow me to put it this way: i’m going to give you what you deserve.”

his thumb grazes your lower lip, only to trail down the column of your pretty neck as his lips finally and mercifully claim yours. and you give yourself permission to kiss him back. how could you not? of course you’ve never expected anything from him, but you’d be lying if you said you’d never fantasized about kissing him, touching him.

zhongli is incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, devastatingly handsome, and his voice alone is enough to make your panties wet every time you hear it. in spite of the fact that you’ve been providing for him, it is he who seems to hold some unspoken power over you.

breaking from the kiss, you look up into his amber eyes. “wh-what i deserve?”

without a word he turns you around, your butt now pressing against the edge of your desk.

“by now you must think i’m a weak man…”

you shake your head. “no. i don’t think that at all-”

he places his fingers over your lips. “ah-ah. i wasn’t finished speaking, my lady.”

your eyes widen, filling with lust and desire at his insistent tone. yes. you need this. and he knows it. zhongli isn’t just giving you what you want or deserve; he’s giving you what you need.

“but-”

before you can utter another sound, zhongli spins you around until your hips are pressing against the edge of your desk. you feel his hips press against your bottom, gasping quietly at the unmistakable hard bulge pressing against you.

“zhongli?”

he grinds against you, the force causing the edge of your desk to dig into your hip bones.

“you can feel me, can’t you?” he whispers, his wet lips grazing the edge of your ear. “i’ve wanted you like this all along. does that come as a surprise to you, my lady?”

before you can formulate a response, zhongli’s hands - now naked and warm after having removed his gloves - are running along your bare skin under your pencil skirt until it’s bunched up below your ass cheeks. one of his hands slips between your legs, spreading them apart to slowly make his way up until he feels the moisture between them. 

“it would seem you’ve thought about this before as well,” he deduces, eliciting an affirmative hum from you as a response.

his other hand gently pushes your hair aside to expose the back of your neck and you feel the heat of his breath there as his soft lips ghost over your goosebumped skin.

“you must get so tired of having so much responsibility on you,” he mutters. “wouldn’t it be nice to relinquish control every once in a while?”

his voice alone is enough to easily seduce you. with a small nod, your eyes flutter closed as you fight the chill that wants to run down your spine. “y-yes, zhongli, it’s…” your breath hitches when his thumb brushes your lace-covered clit, “...exhausting sometimes.”

a deep chuckle forms in his throat as he peppers light kisses along the back of your bare neck, pushing the ruffle trim top of your dress off one of your shoulders to expose more of your soft skin.

“then allow me.” grasping the back zipper between his fingers, he pulls it down, taking his precious time undressing you from your collar to your tailbone. “if at any point you want me to stop, just say 'lapis'," he whispers and you agree.

he pushes the sleeves over and off of your arms before unfastening your bra. everything falls to the floor, the expensive material pooling around your feet. having rendered you naked save for your panties and designer heels, he stands back a bit and tells you to turn around and face him. feeling a bit self-conscious, you cover your breasts and bite your lower lip nervously as you follow his order.

“tut-tut.” zhongli shakes his head in mild disapproval. “uncover yourself. i want to see every inch of your gorgeous body.”

you lower your arms, exposing your creamy breasts with pretty, budded nipples and zhongli’s amber eyes seem to glow with arousal. he takes his time looking you up and down, licking his lips, drinking in your form as his hard cock strains against his slacks. 

kissing you as he comes in close again, pulling you in with his hands on your ass to let the clothed head of his cock rub against your panty-clad pussy. you gasp and he grips his own cock through his pants and rubs the head over your hidden clit.

reaching for one of your hands, he places it on his clothed erection, sending a jolt of arousal to your core. “touch me,” he says. "i know you want to."

you nod, giving his girth a tentative squeeze through his expensive slacks. a quiet groan escapes zhongli’s throat as he pushes himself into your hand, watching you with hooded eyes as you palm him. even through the dark virgin wool you can feel that his cock is thick and hot, and you can’t help but clench as you imagine how it would feel to be taken and filled by him.

“get on your knees,” he commands and you obey, putting you at eye level with the wet spot that has formed where his cockhead is pressing against his slacks. “take my cock out.” 

you can hardly believe this is happening. not five minutes ago, you were having an innocent conversation with your platonic sugarbaby. now you’re on your knees, seconds away from freeing his cock and tasting his precum - something you’ve wanted since first laying eyes on him but never thought would become a reality.

your well-manicured hands reach for his belt, unfastening it before opening his pants to free his impressive dick. it’s so pretty - thick and pale with a bulbous tip flushed dark pink and a couple of fat veins running the length of him. you lick your lips and wrap your hand around his silky shaft, so warm and hard. without thinking, you open your mouth to lick his swollen cockhead but he reaches down and stops you with a finger to your chin.

“did you ask for permission to suck my cock?”

his authoritative tone has you soaking through your panties, your own slick coating your inner thighs. “n-no, sir.” zhongli is pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly you’ve stepped into your submissive role. “may i please suck your cock, mister zhongli?” you ask, making his member twitch in your hand.

he gives you a kind, crooked smile. “yes, of course, little one.”

his salty flavor has you clenching around nothing when you drag your tongue from the underside of his cockhead to his slit. you give it a little kiss before swirling your wet muscle around it. “mmm~ you taste so good, mister zhongli…want more.”

“such a greedy slut,” he rasps with a crooked grin. “tell you what - i’ll give you a mouthful of my flavor, but you have to earn it.” he runs his fingers through your hair. “suck my cock well enough and i’ll let you drink as much of my cum as you can handle.”

his words have you eagerly wrapping your lips tightly around him, slowly taking him all the way to the back of your throat to make yourself salivate more. pumping your fist along what you can’t fit in your mouth, pretty soon the room is filled with wet, sucking noises along with the occasional grunt and muffled gag.

with your hand still jerking him, you pull off him with a gasp.

“did i say you could stop?” he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair.

“no, sir.” you barely get the words out before you quickly suck him in again. never before have you enjoyed sucking a cock so much as zhongli’s.

as he watches you bob on him like a cock-hungry whore, zhongli takes off his waistcoat and begins to unbutton the tailored shirt you bought him a couple of weeks ago. he works it off until he’s naked from the waist up. it’s difficult to fully appreciate the sculpt of his perfect body from this angle, but you can make out his chiseled chest and mouth-watering abs, causing you to whimper on his length.

he pets your hair and praises you before resting both his hands on top of your head. he guides your pace slowly at first, working himself deeper, pressing into your throat as he rocks his hips until he’s fucking your mouth. you’re gagging on him, a string of spit and precum hanging from your chin.

“look at me while you’re sucking my dick, little one,” he says, voice still commanding but heavy with lust.

you obey, looking up at him while he admires the way your pretty lips stretch around his wide shaft, traces of your lipstick mixing with your saliva on his skin. it’s hard to see him through the tears that prick at your eyes, but your slick is dripping from your panties onto the floor below. as your fingernails dig slightly into the flesh of his toned thighs, you swear you could cum with his cockhead deep in your throat. 

the way your tears dot your eyelashes makes him suck air through his teeth. “nnfuck~ do you have any idea how pretty you look choking on my cock like this, little one?” zhongli’s hips are rocking steadily, his tight balls touching your chin with every thrust. “such a good fucking girl…are you ready for your reward?”

all you can do is moan, the vibration sending him over the edge. with his fingers tangled in your hair, he presses his patch of black hair against the tip of your nose. fighting to keep his eyes focused on you, zhongli groans loudly, releasing his orgasm down your raw, well-deserved throat.

he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. but you’ve loved every second of it. even when he’s forceful, zhongli has a grace about him that’s difficult to describe. but you sense it, you know it when you’re with him like this. “th- *gasp* thank you, m-mister zhongli. thank you f- *cough* for your cum.”

“you did so well, little one,” he groans, tenderly rubbing his thumb over your tear-streaked cheek. collecting some stray semen from your chin, he pushes his thumb between your lips and you suck on it, moaning at the feeling of more of his creamy fluid coating your tongue. “you earned every drop, so don’t waste it.”

your willingness to please, your gratitude, your pliability…they all endear you to him. you may spend your money on him, but he slips into the role of your doting dominant just as seamlessly. he wants to take care of you. to dominate you and reduce you to a babbling mess underneath him, but he wants to care for you and make sure you know you’re safe even more so.

he helps you to your feet before backing you up against your desk. he picks you up, semi-hard cock bouncing with his movements, and sets your ass down on the documents you’d just finished when he came into your office.

“zh-zhongli, the paperwork-”

“my dear, the paperwork should be the least of your concerns right now, but if you must know,” he huffs, pulling your drenched panties down and off your legs, “those documents are as good as ruined…”

before you can protest he curls his hands behind your knees and yanks your ass to the edge of your desk, important forms dragging along beneath you, some fluttering to the floor. now you’re naked, save for your louboutins. zhongli clasps his hands around your ankles and lifts them in the air before bringing his lips to one of them and blazing a long, slow trail along the inside of your leg. 

“but don’t you worry…” he mutters between kisses to your skin, his lust-darkened eyes looking right into yours, “your work will be the last thing on your mind by the time i’m done with you.”

his words, his voice, his gaze…it’s all too much and you shudder under his touch, breathing his name. your hands find his dark brown hair, the long ponytail hanging over his shoulder and tickling your electrified skin as he sucks a bruise into your inner thigh.

zhongli’s hands glide down the length of your legs, spreading them to expose your wet, swollen lips. “your pussy is stunning, my lady. even more beautiful than it smells.” he pushes your knees further back, his softened cock twitching back to life as he watches your folds open for him. he breathes you in, groaning at the pink tip of your hard bud peeking out from between your inner lips. “i’ve been dying to taste you…

“ohhh~” you keen, back arching when you feel the heat of his breath on your neglected sex. “mister zhongli…please~”

“please what?” he grumbles, dark amber eyes peering up at you from between your legs.

“p-please…” you plead, voice meek and submissive, “please lick me…”

without taking his eyes off you, he sticks his tongue out and licks a slow, wide strip over your puffy lips. your hips jolt at the tender sensualilty of his warm, silky muscle touching you where you need him most.

“your flavor…” he moans quietly, “delectable.” he teases his tongue around your hard pearl, swiping slowly between your inner labia to taste more of you. “sweeter and more intoxicating than any wine i’ve had the pleasure of rolling over my tongue…”

already you’re cooing for him and he can’t help but want to hear what other sounds he might be able to pull from you, never mind how much he’s dying to devour you. he swirls his tongue around your tiny, pink erection before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it in against his tongue. immediately your back arches off the desk as you gasp his name, shoving your sex deeper into his mouth. zhongli’s brows furrow as he sucks you in harder with a deep growl. his graceful hands are pushing on the backs of your thighs, pressing you further open to dip his tongue inside your tight hole.

“gahahhh~” you cry out, his nose nudging your throbbing clit as he fucks you with his wet muscle.

he lifts his face from your pussy, glistening with the mixture of your arousal and his spit. you open your eyes but before you can whine in protest, he kisses you, and you moan at the taste of your pussy on his tongue as he presses two expert fingers inside you. you cry into his mouth, the pad of his thumb massaging your clit.

he pulls away, a string of your juices and his saliva connecting your lips. “such a good girl for me,” zhongli pants, drunk on your pussy. he slips his naked shoulders under your thighs, his free hand pushing up over your tummy and ribs to cup your breast and gently squeeze your pebbled nipple. “i think it’s time for another reward, hm?” all you can muster is a pitiful whimper in response as his fingertips find your sweet spot. “but you have to promise to cum for me, little one,” he breathes.

“y-yes, sir…” you all but sing for him, “please, mister zhongli…promise…i promise i'll cum for you~”

a dark smile tugs at his lips as he lowers his mouth to your cunt, sucking your clit into his warm, wet mouth once again. his fingers work you over nicely, tugging vigorously against your g-spot as he rubs his flexed tongue over your hard, pink tip. your orgasm builds slowly, deep in your bones and outward intensely as your fingers curl in his hair and you buck your hips against his face.

“fuck, oh god~” you cry out, only for him to latch on tighter, determined to suck you all the way off and drink down every last drop of your orgasm.

his waiting mouth is filled with your essence as his blunt fingertips dig into the plush of your hips. he drinks you down as best he can as you gush for him, but a fair amount of your liquid escapes his mouth and drips lewdly from his chin. slowly he pulls away, sliding his fingers out of your still-clenching pussy. you’re still too drunk on your high to notice yet, but his cock is in his hand, hard and leaking again. 

“so good…” he drawls, standing and sliding his dark pink cockhead between your wet, slippery folds.

you flinch at the contact. you want it - more than anything - but you’re so sensitive and his swollen tip is driving you mad as it bounces over your poor little clit.

zhongli huffs, his cock momentarily catching on your hole before sliding between your pussy lips again. he knows how overstimmed you must be but he’s too needy to care about that right now. he’s wanted to slip his cock into you for far too long and now that his shaft is sliding between your slippery folds he can’t hold back any longer. 

how many nights and mornings has he thought of you while fucking his own hand until he soiled his sheets with his hot sticky semen? how many afternoons has he returned to his office after enjoying a kettle of tea with you, only to lock his door and pull his cock out of his trousers before jacking off while moaning your name under his breath. too many times he has tried to be quiet while biting his lower lip and whimpering quietly as he filled his own hand with his thick, white cum until it dripped between his fingers onto the wooden floor below.

he leans over you, one hand planted on your desk and the other still guiding his cock, massaging your swollen clit with his thick tip. 

“you’ve been so good to me,” he groans, lust-blown amber eyes looking down at you with fire in them. “you’ve given me everything i’ve wanted and more…” the underside of his hard shaft is gliding noisily between your folds.

“y-you deserve the whole world, zhongli,” you breathe, looking into his eyes. “i adore you…” his eyes soften at your proclamation. he stops moving his hips and kisses you, soft and tender, his tongue rolling slowly around yours before pulling away just enough to look at your beautiful face again, your eyes so full of desire and affection for him. “and i you. please-” he breathes, eyes narrowing and his hips moving again, slowly. “…let me take care of you.” both of your breaths hitch when his cockhead finally presses against your hole and stretches you open.

“nnhh~fuck, zhongli…so good~” you keen, your mouth falling open at the feeling of the soft pop of your pussy as it surrenders to his meaty tip pushing past it, deeper into your wet heat.

“ahh~” he gasps deeply, “y-you…” his head falls to your neck as he works himself in and out, a little deeper each time, “you feel -mmff- perfect~” your warm, soft walls welcome him, yield to him, sucking him in hard as you moan for him.

zhongli's cock is slick and glistening with your need. his hands hold your hips in place as he plunges into you harder, his fingertips dimpling your plush skin. your nose is buried in his hair, breathing in his masculine scent and his deep grunts as he flicks his tongue over your nipple while his naked hips clap against your ass. he rises, yanking your ass to the edge of the desk and holds you there with his hands over your thighs as he drives his length - hard and thick and wet - into your heat. your lover maintains eye contact with you as he puts your ankles on his shoulders, his hands around your hips to hold you in place when he begins thrusting harder.

fueled by your cries of pleasure, zhongli fucks you right. he takes care of you just like he said he would. you can feel the pressure of your everyday obligations lifting from your shoulders with every groan that falls from his lips, every slap of wet skin that fills the walls of your office, every whimper of his name and every growl of yours as he makes you forget that you ever needed to be in charge of anything. zhongli is in control now, pressing his lips to the inside of your ankle while those burning amber eyes stay trained on you. 

you trust him, beyond pleased to finally see this side of him. you had always suspected there was a latent dominant in him, but for him to finally take charge like this - of the situation, of you, of your body - you give it all over to him freely. and you’re rewarded deeply. so relaxed your tits are bouncing, your eyes fluttering and crossing as you feel another orgasm building deep within your core.

zhongli leans forward, holding your legs fast against his chest with one arm while anchoring himself with the other. the pad of his thumb is rubbing your clit, his lips are parted, eyes hooded, his moans mixing with yours as he fucks you so thoroughly and you cry out, “ohh…hnn…ZHONGLI~”, thighs trembling, cumming so hard you spray a little against his taut, sweaty belly, still flexing as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“oh fuck, so beautiful…” he pants, eyes drawn to the space where your bodies meet, beads of your spend trickling down his abs. your cream coats the base of his cock, glistening in his dark brown patch of hair. he quickly lowers your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, needing to feel him close as he ruts out the last of himself into you. 

you’re still mindlessly whispering his name against his cheek as his grunts turn into quiet whimpers and his moans become gasps. “nnfuck…get ready to take my cum, little one.” 

you’re fucked out beyond bliss but you manage to breathe out a “yesss…please give me your cum, mister zhongli. need you to fill me up with your hot seed…please, please, please~”

your words send him over the edge, hips plunging hard against you before stilling as his cock throbs inside you to spill the hot, sticky contents of his balls into your readied, welcoming cervix. his thrusts slow and jerk as he fills you completely. 

“want you to take all of me,” he confesses against your cheek, eyes closed and brow furrowed. his hips jerk against you, the last of his sperm spilling from his slit. “want you to have it all. you deserve it.” 

— BONUS ENDING (because i'm a dork and i love zhongli’s quirky sense of humor):

when he’s ready, zhongli pulls his wet, softening cock out and watches with deep satisfaction as his semen leaks from your still-clenching hole to form a thick, creamy puddle on your officially disheveled documents. he laughs under his breath. “looks like this one has my signature now as well.”

zhongli m.list

— please consider reblogging if you're 18+ and enjoyed this. i worked really hard on it. <3

[prolix-yuy]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag @oonajaeadira! Funny enough I saw this go around a couple months ago and meant to do it, then life got crazy. This seems like a great time to jump on in!

How many works do you have on ao3?

48! Wowza! That's not counting fics I only post here (like my Writers Iron Chefs and the Bangathon)

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

338,089. That's kind of crazy, I'm not gonna lie. And some of those words aren't filthy :P

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Something New, One Very Good Night, Both Sides of the Door, A Sweet Response to Tragedy, and Good Company. 4 out of 5 of these are from I Think of You, which does warm my little heart. I did laugh that their popularity is completely out of order from the series.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes yes yes! Every single one I get! I'll even yank your tags out and comment on them when they make me especially happy. It's the best part of sharing my stories.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

TECHNICALLY One Very Good Night had the angstiest ending before I continued the series. Same with Cognitive Dissonance! Apparently I get to an angsty end then just write a part 2.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that's tied with the real ending to my Whiskey & Westworld series, and all the gooey soft fun of my Javi G series. Both make my heart glow in different ways.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Knock on wood, nothing so far. I've gotten a couple of interpretations of my fics that have made me cock my head because I just don't think the person read the story, or if they did they skimmed over the character development part. But otherwise I've had a very nice time with everyone here <3

9. Do you write smut?

If you don't know by now, I'm not sure what you've been reading...

10. Craziest crossover?

100% Whiskey & Westworld. Golden Circle meets android theme park? Lusting over cowboys and having existential crises? It fit better than I ever thought it would and I still love the crap out of it.

(though as a side note, having Javi P be the person who helped Santi find his girls in the SW!Frankie AU is another fav)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not? Yeesh.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be pretty neat!

13. Have you co-written a fic before?

No, but I have had the distinct pleasure of @psychedelic-ink writing a fic in the SW!Frankie AU that made my whole life.

14. All time favorite ship?

HELP I'M TORN. It's a tie between Din and my Reader in I Think of You and Dieter and Murch in Best Laid Plans. I think about both of them so so so much.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will

I have a handful of small WIPs in a folder that who knows if they'll come to fruition. I think the greatest contender is probably the Post-Apocalyptic Frankie I tossed around because The Last of Us came out and it might just meld into a Joel story instead.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm good at pacing and giving enough description to keep a reader engaged but not bogged down with details. People connect with my reader characters in a way that makes me super happy. And I write damn good smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can't write outlines or my brain says "it's done :)" and I never write the story. I can't write out of order. I struggle with making characters have meaningful fights and arguments because I'm non-confrontational IRL and it makes me anxious.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language

Flavor! I love reading it! I tend to shy away from writing it because as someone who knows another language, it never feels natural to me to throw it in. Pet names are a nice way to use it, and I'll allude to speaking other languages in descriptions, but it's difficult so I tend to not add it much in my stories.

19. First fandom you wrote for

Gundam Wing when I was about eight or nine. Part of my username is in homage to that! My friends and I would write our fanfics and then read them all out loud at sleepovers together. Pre-internet, this was my Tumblr lol.

20. Favorite fic you've written

You know, I love all of my fics a whole damn lot, and my top ones are still hard favs. But I think for a story that came out of my heart in a really nice way and that I hold a little closer than the others, The Plan might just top them a tiny bit.

NP tags: @iamskyereads @psychedelic-ink @julesonrecord @wannab-urs @ezrasbirdie and anyone who wants to play!

[theia-eos]

Hi!

I read your Prince Daein Soren AU a while ago and I loved it! I was curious on whether you were planning or not to continue it in RD

Hi! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Yes, I am. I had the direction planned out before I posted The Prince of Shadowed Winds.

Right now, I'm trying to figure out if I'm happy with it and that's what I want to go with. I also want to get a substantial way through writing it before I start posting, and that requires figuring out what I want to keep and what I don't feel is necessary to have in the written story and what I need to add that isn't there already. That requires figuring out what I want to do with the narrative (who should be the main POV characters, what genre do I want to style it after, if any [probably not doing it inspired by a romance trope again]) and if I want all of RD to be one story or a few different ones.

I know I had promised to start posting some stuff happening after Prince of Shadowed Winds this month when I posted the final chapter back in September, but I overestimated myself, honestly.

I'm very glad you enjoyed the first story enough to inquire about the rest of it. Thank you for asking, earnestly.

To pull back the curtain a little bit as I know I alluded to it previously, I've been dealing with a phase of something like depression since like August of last year, but it really got bad in October. My therapist and I have a few ideas but none of them really fit. Trying to write for the past several months has been downright impossible. There was nothing in my mind about what I wanted to do, and trying to force myself to write or even edit just made me experience something I can only describe as pins and needles in my brain.

I've dealt with this happening before, and it always goes away in time (and always comes back, which is the main reason why I usually wait to finish an entire story before posting it because I don't know when it will strike). I was just hoping it would go away faster than it has. I'm just now able to write here and there without any issues.

With that in mind, I'm hoping I'll be able to start sharing some of the one shots I have for what happens in the three years I between the AU POR story and AU RD story in the next couple of months. They were nearly done before I posted the last chapter of Prince of Shadowed Winds, so it shouldn't take too much more work to finish those up and get them posted.

[saywhatjessie]

Queer Eye for the “Straight” Guy

FINALLY, six months after I was commissioned, this thing is done.

I’m truly sorry to my donation winner, Cindy. Lord knows you never asked to put up with my procrastinating ass.

But I’m truly happy with how this turned out! And I hope you, Cindy, and the rest of y'all are too! This work is a part of the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Check out some other cool works and support these charities this movement helps!

(Read on AO3)

Never had Castiel been checked out with such scrutiny.

The man walked around him, eyes slowly dragging over his body, just on this side of appreciative. They were green and critical under contemplative eyebrows, pushed together to form a crease in the middle that Castiel kind of wanted to poke. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, his thumb playing with his lower lip as he circled.

Castiel just stood, arms loose at his sides, posture normal which was to say terrible. He watched the man watching him.

“Well,” the man said, facing Castiel but also kind of facing the large camera he’d brought with him. “The suit is awful but we can work with it. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the trench coat?”

Castiel shook his head, his mouth grim.

The man sighed. “Well, I’ll figure something out.”

He then explained to Castiel some of what he was going to be doing. Usually the exposition would take place among the five men who hosted, but Castiel understood this was a special case. The usual five men to do the job was now one.

“Hi, and welcome to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy : celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.”

Castiel was, in this scenario, ‘the straight guy.’ He supposed that description fit simply by process of elimination. He knew he wasn’t gay because he did not wish to have sex with men. He didn’t particularly want to have sex with women but he liked them well enough: enjoyed the softness of their lips when they’d kissed him and liked their smell and general company.

So yes, Castiel could be the straight guy.

Although Dean Winchester’s shoulders looked very nice…

“Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.”

“Okay, Cas, it may only be me, but I’ve still got some hired guns to help me move shit – er – junk around your apartment.” Dean turned to a woman wearing headphones. “Do I have to say that again?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “If you would, please.”

Dean sighed and repeated himself, this time leaving out the swear word.

This was all far too much production for Castiel. He preferred quiet libraries or the gentle hum of apiaries to the clapboards and shouted instructions of a television set.

“A necessary evil “his agent had called it. “ How do you expect to get more funding, Castiel, if no one cares about your research?”

Castiel had thought this quite unfair and demonstratively untrue. Plenty of people cared about his research! Students and… kindergarten teachers…

Castiel supposed those groups didn’t pay very much. He may have seen Meg’s point.

He didn’t know why that meant he had to be involved with a reality show, though. He glowered at the camera.

Dean smiled at him, unaffected. “I have given the crew my instructions so now I can whisk you away for a fun makeover montage.”

Castiel turned his glower on Dean.

He winked. “Yes, you’re very scary. Let’s go.”

Castiel experienced neither ‘fun’ nor a ‘montage’ as the case went as neither he nor Dean had very much patience with it. For all Dean’s schmoozing of the cameras, he was really rather straightforward with the entire enterprise.

“We need to shave your face,” he told Castiel, the scrutinizing-eyebrow-crease back and better than ever. “I get how this mountain-man hairiness might work with your nature-science thing but we’re trying to get you sponsors for your research so we have to make you look hot.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You don’t like the beard?”

Dean smirked, looking away. The tips of his ears turned red. “It doesn’t matter what I like. We’re going for mainstream good looks. Which I know you have underneath all… that.”

Castiel frowned. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Dean smirked again and winked. “Exactly. Let’s get ‘er done.”

Dean took him to his favorite barber: a rather large, rough-looking man named Benny.

Castiel turned to Dean, gesturing toward Benny’s face. “Benny has a beard.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Benny also has an accent and can get away with it.”

Castiel turned to Benny who smiled, slow and easy. “Trust me, brother, you can get away with anything when you sound like a hot bowl o’ gumbo.”

Benny’s accent was cajun, which, Dean was right: it definitely went with the beard.

But still, Castiel wanted to make a point.

“Could I keep the beard if I spoke exclusively like this?” he asked in Russian.

Dean’s face burned bright red but he showed no comprehension for what Castiel had said.

He repeated himself in English but with a thick Russian accent.

The blush was extending down Dean’s neck. Benny was eying him with a massive grin. He whistled. “Hooo, cher, looks like you really got into somethin’ here.”

Dean shook himself slightly and shoved his friend. “Shut up, Benny.”

He turned to Cas, not quite making eye contact. “Yeah, you could probably get away with a lot with that accent but,” He cleared his throat into his fist, looking Cas in the eye again, as if steeling himself. “We’re still shaving you. You can always grow it back later.”

Castiel scowled, collapsing in Benny’s chair like a petulant child.

Benny chuckled, immediately bringing his hands up to to sift through Castiel’s hair.

It had been a while since anyone had touched him like this – or at all, really. He let himself enjoy Benny’s gentle fingers. His eyes slipped closed.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me yet, cher.” Benny shook Castiel’s head a little, as if to bring him back to wakefulness. “We’ve still gotta wash ya.”

Castiel hummed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and led over to the wash sinks. But with the warm water and Benny’s gentle fingers massaging his scalp, he felt himself drift again.

He wasn’t so unaware, however, that he couldn’t hear. “You alright there, Dean?” Benny said, a smile in his voice. “Need me to get the smellin’ salts?”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Castiel’s eyes were still closed but he had a feeling Dean’s ears were going red again.

“I’m just sayin’,” Benny added, “I remember how you was after Mashkov.”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “Mashkov? Alexei Mashkov? That hockey player?”

Dean snorted. “Yes, Cas, the hockey player. Which makes sense since I am also, you know, a hockey player.”

Castiel made a noise in his throat in response to Dean’s tone. It made his next words perhaps harsher than he’d meant them. “Yes, but I’ve actually heard of Mashkov.”

The silence that followed was not a happy one. Castiel peeked one eye open, spying Dean in the corner looking hurt.

Damn.

“I just mean with the news a couple years ago,” Castiel tried to correct. “With him being the first NHL player to come out. It was a big deal.”

Dean rolled his eyes but his shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked hurt when Castiel closed his eyes again. Castiel allowed Benny to tilt his head back.

Dean said, “Actually it was Parson who came out first. Mashkov got dragged into it because they’re together and Zimmermann was kind of outed by default.”

Castiel said nothing. Only some of those names were familiar to him.

Dean continued to explain at Castiel’s silence. “Because of the rumors of Zimms and Parse in the Q? Before the overdose?”

Castiel said nothing.

“Whatever, it’s not important.”

Castiel peeked his eye open again to see Dean with his arms crossed, his face set in what Castiel wouldn’t hesitate to call a pout.

He would hesitate to call that pout ‘adorable’ but only barely.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. “Dean, please don’t be offended. I obviously know more about Mashkov because he’s Russian.”

Dean grunted but said nothing else. Castiel let him sulk and relaxed into Benny’s fingers.

The cut and shave really weren’t as bad as Castiel had made them out to be, the lack of hair making him feel immediately cleaner and more free.

It helped that by the time he was finished, Dean seemed to be over whatever upset he’d had and blushed pleasantly pink again at the sight of him, staying pink while they said goodbye to Benny and headed for the clothing store Dean selected. Castiel rather liked Dean’s appreciation, delighting in every blush and stammer. It was nice to have someone so handsome think Castiel as someone worthy to be ogled.

“Give me your coat.”

Castiel appreciated Dean just a little bit less.

Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel’s glower. “Come on, man, I thought we were past this.” He held out his hand. “Give me your trench coat so I can hand it over to the tailors. I told you you could keep it but it still needs to be revamped. Or cleaned at the very least.”

Castiel frowned but relinquished his coat. Dean grinned.

“Excellent!” He handed the coat off to a random crew member. Castiel assumed it would go where it needed to. Castiel trusted Dean wouldn’t just throw it in a dumpster. “Now about the suit…”

Dean circled Castiel again, a reprise of the earlier inspection. He plucked at the lapel making a face of disgruntled curiosity. “Why do you even wear this? Aren’t you in libraries and hives and shit all day?”

The woman in headphones said nothing about the swear this time. Castiel figured they’d just cut this part in post-production. “I don’t usually wear the suit. I was under the impression that I was to dress up for the party. I was trying to save time.”

If this had been a normal episode of Queer Eye , they would have already known this. They would have already gone through Castiel’s wardrobe and torn it apart, throwing away everything they found unsuitable.

But there was only one of Dean and they were on a time crunch. They hadn’t gotten to tearing up Castiel’s apartment at all; Dean had just told some men to move furniture around.

Dean raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Well your time-saving efforts were wasted because there’s no way I’m letting you wear this.” Castiel grunted, annoyed. “What do you usually wear?”

Castiel shrugged, not liking the feeling of his shoulders moving without the comfortable weight of his coat. “I usually wear jeans because they’re comfortable to sit in for long periods of time and tough enough to ward off stray stingers.”

Dean nodded, circling Castiel again, eyes on his legs this time. His eyebrows were hunched together in frustration once more, probably over the terrible fit of Castiel’s dress pants.

“I imagine these jeans aren’t fitted, right? They’re like farm jeans?”

“I’m not sure what about the jeans qualifies them to be adequately ‘farm’ but I imagine that description is accurate.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, jeans are probably a good idea. We can put you in fitted jeans. I’m thinking the kind that look sorta faded over the front, you know what I mean? Hopefully you’ve got legs under there.”

“Of course I have legs.” Castiel said, perplexed.

Dean shook his head again, smiling.

“Shirt?”

Castiel took a moment to understand Dean was asking him about what he usually wore with his ‘farm jeans.’

“Sweaters, mostly. T-shirts if it’s warm. And my coat.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The trench coat? All the time?”

Castiel nodded solemnly.

Dean threw up his hands in an exasperated sort of way but let it go. “I think we’re going to leave you in a dress shirt. Not white, maybe a pale blue, to match your eyes.”

Castiel blushed. He shouldn’t have: there was nothing unusual about Dean making a comment on his appearance. That was why he was there, after all. But there was something about the way Dean mentioned his eyes that embarrassed Castiel. Embarrassed him and made his stomach squirm pleasantly.

“A vest too, I think.” Dean continued, thankfully not looking at Castiel’s face, allowing time for the blush to fade.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Like a sweater vest?”

Dean did look at Castiel’s face now, an expression of mild horror twisting his mouth. “Dude, no! Like one of those fancy vests that buttons in the front.” He gestured with his hands over his torso, as if to help Castiel visualize what he was talking about. “The kind you can keep a pocket watch in.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You mean a waistcoat?”

Dean snapped his fingers. “That’s it! A waistcoat.” He paused. “How did you know what it was called.”

Castiel just shrugged again, leaving it at that.

Dean eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer before continuing on to discuss ties.

Dean didn’t know the technical terms for a lot of things. The ‘faded’ looking jeans he was talking about were called medium-wash, and he wanted a boot cut but all he could tell the store clerks was, ‘not those kind that look like they’re gonna strangle his ankles, you know?’ He knew what he wanted based on the look of things and he knew what he wanted the outfit to look like but describing it to the actual professionals was a bit all over the place.

“There’s going to be a lot of blue going on,” he told Castiel as they browsed through belts. “Light blue shirt, darker blue vest – er, waistcoat – and blue jeans. I don’t want too many blacks and whites because I think the main contrast should be between the trench coat and the outfit underneath.”

Castiel startled a bit, focusing on Dean’s face. “My trench coat?”

Dean looked at Castiel as if he were stupid. “Yeah, man. You were really insistent on it. If you’re going to wear it, it should look good with the rest of the outfit and not, like, an afterthought or something.”

Castiel considered that. He never thought about what the trench coat would look like with the rest of his outfit. It wasn’t as if it were an afterthought, it was just that Castiel wore the trench coat. Always. Period. He had just accepted that whatever outfit he wore underneath would look how it looked and there was nothing that he could do about it. It was the outfit that was the afterthought, not the trench coat.

“The trench coat is tan which is like brown so we can’t put you in black,” Dean continued, turning his attention back to the belts, skimming his hands past the black ones. “Because that wouldn’t match. Or something. Also black is too harsh and you’re already super striking, we want to soften you up a little.”

Castiel tilted his head, a smile quirking his lips. “You think I’m striking?”

Dean jerked his head back around to Castiel’s face. “What? No. I mean, yeah, but I meant striking like eye-catching. It’s not my opinion it’s coloring. I mean. Because your eyes and your hair? You know?”

Castiel laughed, ducking his head. “It’s okay, Dean. Tell me about the belts.”

Dean nodded, clearing his throat and avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “Yeah, okay.” And they continued choosing a belt.

Things kept going smoothly, Dean talking about what he was doing mostly for the camera. He didn’t seem to need much input from Castiel so Castiel reserved himself for observing, mostly. Dean’s face had settled into that same expression as the initial judgement: eyebrows lowered, mouth pursed, hand coming up periodically to play with his bottom lip. Castiel dubbed it the ‘thinking face,’ watching as Dean would set fabrics against each other and dismiss certain colors or patterns completely. Dean’s expression would change only when he would turn and ask Castiel a question – his opinion on one tie over another or his usual preference in fit. Dean looked at Castiel with a certain amusement or perhaps fondness that lightened his otherwise hard ‘thinking face’. Even when he was exasperated, there was a corner of a smile flirting with the edge of Dean’s lips.

“We have a theme here, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, not unkindly. “Blue and brown.”

“Yes, Dean, we have a theme,” Castiel answered, trying not to crush the tie in his hands so as not to wrinkle the fabric. “The theme is me. And I like bees.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head to his chest. “I’m not letting you wear a bee-patterned tie to a formal affair, Cas.”

Castiel frowned, trying to stare Dean into submission. Dean took his stare like a champ, unwavering.

They stood like that, neither willing to back down. Finally, Dean brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, letting loose an bereaved sigh. “Why don’t we come back to ties. Shoes are next.”

Castiel didn’t want to put the tie down, certain one of Dean’s people would make sure it was gone by the time they came back. Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t object to Castiel bringing the tie with them to shoes.

“So for the apiaries, do you wear work boots?” Dean asked, trying to alleviate some tension.

Castiel grunted before answering. “Sometimes. I usually just wear my crocs out, though. They’re more convenient.”

Dean stopped, turning to Castiel, face expressionless.

Castiel looked back, unnerved. “What?”

Dean just shook his head, checked the size on a pair of brown wingtips, and carried the shoes with them away from shoes.

Dean was silent until they’d made their way to hosiery. “Okay,” he started, releasing a large sigh. “Okay, I think I might have a compromise.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow, an invitation for Dean to continue.

“I’m not going to let you wear a bee-patterned tie,” Castiel opened his mouth to object but Dean held up a hand to stop the interruption. “But,” he continued, “If I can get you to wear a subtler tie – maybe blue with dull yellow accents of some kind – you can wear bee-patterned socks.”

Castiel squinted at him, still clutching the tie. “No one will see my socks.”

Dean tipped his head in acknowledgement. “The socks will not be as visible but wearing these shoes,” He dangled the wingtips. “And if we roll up the cuffs of your jeans, you’ll be showing plenty of ankle. Bee covered ankle.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes further, scanning Dean’s face for some kind of duplicity. He found nothing but open concession, if a little grudging.

Dean smiled, cocky. He held out his hand for the bee-patterned tie.

Castiel handed it over. Dean’s smile widened. “Excellent! I asked intern Claire to find us some tasteful bee dress socks. Claire?”

A young blonde girl stepped forward, rolling her eyes at Dean’s dramatics. “For you, Hasselhoff.”

Dean laughed. “Thank you, Lady Snark.”

She snorted, stepping back behind the camera’s vision with the headphone lady.

The socks were navy blue with a subtle honeycomb pattern, bee line art at the intersection of the honeycomb. Castiel really liked them.

“Can I have multiple pairs of these?”

Dean laughed, louder than Castiel had heard him laugh yet. “Claire, any other pairs?”

Claire nodded, a small smile flitting over her face, before whisking away to fetch more socks.

The tie they found wasn’t as perfect (because it didn’t have bees on it) but the subtle gold honeycomb pattern appeased both Castiel’s and Dean’s preferences.

Though he lamented the tie, Castiel was happy that they were done, at the very least, before Dean led him toward the back of the store where the dressing rooms were. “I need you to try on the shirt, pants, and vest so I can see if they need to be tailored.”

“Waistcoat.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Castiel swallowed a groan as he took the offending objects from Dean. There was a reason he wore all the same clothes he’d had since college: shopping was exhausting.

It wasn’t the full ensemble as Castiel hadn’t yet put on any of the accessories but Dean still scanned him appreciatively when he stepped out. “Goddamn, I’m amazing,” he said, seemingly to himself.

“We do need to take in the bottom of your jeans, though,” he continued, circling, his eyes lingering on how the denim shaped Castiel’s thighs. “And whatever else the actual professional tailor thinks he should take in. Balth?”

The tailor in question stepped forward, winking at Castiel, before sinking down to measure and chalk Castiel’s jeans.

Castiel watched Dean as the tailor worked. Dean only seemed to be sneaking glances at Castiel and otherwise stared at his nails or rocked on his toes. Castiel supposed watching someone be fitted wasn’t very exciting.

“I have a question,” he started. Dean looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “You seem  to know what looks good and what doesn’t which is better than I can say,” Dean snorted but smiled. “And yet you don’t have much knowledge on the technical aspect of things.”

Dean shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I never really had time to read fashion magazines as a kid, you know? When I wasn’t training for hockey I was working at my uncle’s body-shop fixing junkers.” Dean laughed, dropping his head back to lean against the wall. “Before I went pro and had to start dressing for press and stuff, it was really rare to find me out of athletic gear, coveralls, or my dad’s old leather jacket.”

Castiel laughed as well, quickly banishing the unexpected image of Dean in greasy coveralls, rolled down to the waist, Only a white tank top on underneath, also covered in grease.

“So you’re saying style isn’t just inherent to a queer identity?”

Dean laughed again like a bark. “Ha! No, it totally is. I’ve always known what looked good, I just never learned the names for shit.”

There was an exasperated sigh from the woman in headphones. Castiel ignored her. “And in high school? When you dressed terribly?”

Dean shrugged. “We do what we have to when we’re in the closet, you know?”

Castiel frowned but was prevented from responding by Balth, who shooed him back into the dressing room so he could change out of the outfit.

Dean was all business again when he came back out. “Now, normally, we’d pick a bunch of different pieces for you to choose from for the event and to help you dress better in the future but we don’t have time for that! So instead: this is your outfit. We’ll leave Balthazar’s card with you in the hopes you’ll tailor the rest of your wardrobe so the world can actually see your body,” Dean’s eyes raked over him, quickly but noticeably. “But there’s really not much we can do beyond that.”

Castiel nodded, not complaining that this seemed to mean they were done shopping.

“Now, while your clothes are fixed, we’re going to head over to The Roadhouse just up the street. A friend of mine is letting us use her kitchen.”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Shouldn’t I be learning to cook using my own kitchen?”

Dean snorted, reaching out to clap Castiel on the shoulder and gently steer him out the door. “We do not have time for that.” Dean patted  his shoulders a couple times more before letting his hands drop. Castiel found himself missing them. “The producers wanted to scrap this part entirely but this was the bit I was most excited about so I called in a few favors to make sure we could fit it in.”

Castiel couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “You enjoy cooking?”

Dean smiled, grabbing at Castiel’s arm again so he could better keep up with Dean’s long strides. “Yeah, man. Cooking dinner kind of fell to me growing up, so I figured if I was doing it anyway I might as well have fun with it.”

Castiel nodded, his focus mostly on the point of contact on his forearm where Dean was gripping him.

The Roadhouse was one of those small-town bars you might see on tv: always a bar-stool open, worn but well-maintained, a place where everybody knows your name. Castiel briefly imagined himself at one of those barstools before Dean pulled him directly through, without pausing, to the kitchen.

There was an industrial kind of set-up and appliances that Castiel did not understand but Dean seemed completely unconcerned, surpassing all of the fancy things and pulling out a medium sized skillet.

“Now, for everything I’m going to teach you to make – and really for most things you’re going to make in your life – all you’re going to need is a good knife, a spatula, and a decently sized skillet.”

Watching Dean cook was mesmerizing. His movements were fluid, his posture relaxed. The tension that had held his shoulders while they were shopping had completely melted away, allowing Dean to smile more and season with confidence.

Castiel knew Dean was speaking – ostensibly trying to teach him – but he was so caught up in the performance of it he didn’t take in a word. He wondered if Dean played hockey in this same easy, satisfied way. He made a mental note to turn on a game sometime.

It was traditional for Ted Allen of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to teach his subjects how to make simple and tasty dishes to serve at a party. Dean went on to show Castiel how to make cheeseburger sliders, omelette crostinis, stuffed mushrooms, and, for some reason, pasta carbonara.

“This one isn’t a very party-friendly dish,” Castiel noted between forkfuls. It was really quite good.

Dean shrugged, swallowing his own mouthful and licking at a bit of sauce on his thumb. Castiel tracked the movement involuntarily.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re making any of this food tonight anyway.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked from Dean’s mouth back up to his eyes. “What?”

“I mean, I told you the producers wanted to cut this part. We’re having your event catered.”

Castiel tilted his head. Dean smiled around another forkful of pasta.

“So then why bother teaching me at all?”

Dean rolled his eyes, talking with his mouth full. “Because it’s a useful fucking skill. And I wanted to.” He swallowed and added, “And this food is delicious so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Castiel ducked his head, grumbling to himself. “Not complaining.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Castiel shot Dean a glare. Dean winked.

The rest of the food that they (Dean) had prepared but the two of them hadn’t eaten was distributed among the crew, Dean’s eyes sparkling at every cameraman’s grunt of approval. The young intern, Claire, came over to sit with Castiel and she and Dean heckled each other while she ate.

The woman in headphones, who Castiel had since learned was named Lisa, approached the three of them as Castiel and Claire watched Dean clean up. “You know you don’t have to do that, Dean.”

Dean just snapped the towel at her. Claire laughed. Lisa just sighed, looking at her clipboard. “Well, we’ve checked off Kyan’s and Carson’s part, and Castiel looks great.” Castiel flushed but nodded his acceptance. Dean pumped his fist. “The guys at Castiel’s apartment say they’re almost done so Thom’s thing is taken care of. You played Ted Allen with your cooking bit.” She shot him a teasingly exasperated look. He snapped the towel again. “So all we have to do is figure out how to incorporate Jai’s culture lessons.”

Dean groaned, slumping dramatically against the counter he had just finished wiping down. “You’re asking for too much, Lis. Cas is clueless about everything.”

Castiel thought he maybe should have been offended but Dean wasn’t wrong. He turned to Lisa curiously.

She sighed, exasperation real this time. “Just make it so he can interact with his guests tonight.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Lisa cut him off with a pointed finger. “And talk about something other than bees.”

Castiel’s jaw snapped shut and he pouted. This was going to be a party celebrating his success with bees. He should be allowed to talk about them.

Dean smiled, all lips and eyes. “His experience today is a pretty great talking point if you think about it.”

Castiel nodded seriously. Lisa rolled her eyes and seemingly gave up on them, retreating back to behind the camera line. Claire punched Dean in the shoulder and followed.

Cameras were heaved back onto shoulders and Dean’s smile changed. It was the same easy smile he’d been pulling out all day, paired with winks and claps on shoulders. It was less creasing eyes and more chin and cheeks. Castiel reflected that he must have been staring at Dean a lot in the past hour or so in this kitchen for him to have noticed.

He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it.

Lisa gave them the signal for rolling and Dean brought his hands together, loud and flashy.

“Alright, Cas, we’ve given you a new look, now you just need a new personality to go with it.”

Lisa made a buzzer noise. “Nope, try again.”

Dean laughed but repeated his clap. “Alright, Cas, your guests are going to be hooked in by this new look but now we’ve gotta reel them in with some conversation.”

He raised an eyebrow to Lisa off camera as if to say ‘better?’ She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

They did this part walking back to the tailor, the cameramen walking backwards, stopping at intervals so Dean could teach Castiel about proper eye contact.

Castiel couldn’t imagine what this segment would look like after the final cut. It couldn’t be very interesting watching a grown man teach another grown man how to have a conversation. Besides which, most of the walk turned into Dean and Castiel just… talking. Castiel enjoyed listening to Dean and Dean seemed genuinely interested in learning about Cas and Castiel couldn’t think how this would apply to talking to other people.

Still, Dean proclaimed Castiel a ‘natural’ by the time they arrived.

“I mean, you’re definitely clueless about everything, but you show genuine interest in whatever the other person is talking about, which is really what you need to have a conversation.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he had genuine interest in whatever the ‘other person’ was talking about or if he was just interested in what Dean was talking about. He made an executive decision not to voice that thought.

It was unusual for the Fab Five to stick around once their work was done: you never saw them at the party they had prepared the ‘straight guy’ for. However, because this was a special case, and because Castiel had specifically extended an invitation, Dean was going to stay for the party.

Castiel was relieved. Not only because this would take some focus off of him, but also because he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Dean yet.

However, he couldn’t help but tease Dean, just a little.

“It’s a shame Alexei Mashkov couldn’t come,” he told Dean, straight-faced, as he struggled with his honeycomb patterned tie in the mirror. “I’m sure you’re a decent player, Dean, but I’d like to wow my guests with someone exceptional.”

Dean barked a laugh, shoving at Castiel’s shoulder and completely messing up the knot Castiel had been working on. “Sure, Cas, I’d like to see Mashkov put up with your grumpy ass.”

Castiel frowned at the mess Dean had made of his knot but yanked it loose without comment. “He and Jack Zimmermann are friends, aren’t they? And Zimmermann is a ‘grumpy ass.’”

Dean’s grin stretched wider as he fiddled with his hair, checking his reflection in the mirror next to Castiel. “You’ve been listening.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, deliberately keeping his eyes on his tie. Dean hadn’t changed much for the party: taken off his tie, changed his shirt, and added a pocket square. Dean had stripped off without embarrassment, exposing well muscled arms and a surprisingly cushiony stomach. Castiel didn’t allow himself more than a cursory glance and soon Dean was covered again in a black, silky dress shirt.

The wine colored suit he’d had on for filming looked much more provocative with the dark shirt, collar unbuttoned. Castiel would go so far as to call it sexy.

Castiel also refused to take his eyes off of his necktie.

Dean chattered on, seemingly unaware of Castiel’s distraction. “I’m real happy about how the apartment turned out. I wish I coulda done it myself but you know the time crunch.”

Castiel just hummed again. He couldn’t argue with Dean: he didn’t care much for how it looked but it was comfortable, as he liked it to be. And the way the furniture was arranged and the different colors they had painted the walls did make the space more friendly.

Castiel supposed that was the whole point of this exercise. To be friendlier. More welcoming.

If only he could move around some furniture to fix his personality.

“Jesus fuck.” Castiel startled, finally looking at Dean, who smacked his hands away from his neck. “Just let me tie it. Honestly, how did you survive before me?”

Castiel didn’t comment. It had only been a day, but Castiel was beginning to wonder the same thing.

He thought about what Dean had said that morning. Between introductions and exposition to the camera, he’d given a shout out to some kind of charity organization.

“This collaboration is brought to you by ‘You Can Play’: an organization showing us that if you can play, you can play –  whether you’re gay, straight, transgender, bisexual, asexual, or anything in-between.”

Many of those terms were brand new to Castiel. But it didn’t exactly seem relevant to him that morning. Today, he was ‘the straight guy’.

But now he wondered.

“Dean, what you said earlier? In your ‘You Can Play’ pitch?”

Dean had finished with Castiel’s tie and was now buttoning Castiel’s waistcoat, smoothing out the fabric. He answered distractedly. “Yeah, Cas, what about it?”

“Just some of the words you used… I’d never heard them before.” Castiel watched Dean’s face, looking for some sign he was saying the wrong thing.

But Dean just frowned, picking some imaginary lint off of Castiel’s lapel before meeting his eyes. “What words are those?”

Castiel shrugged, trying not to look away in embarrassment. “Well, obviously I knew gay and straight. And you’re bisexual so I kind of know what that one is. And since the Caitlyn Jenner thing I knew about transgenderism…”

Thankfully, Dean picked up on what Castiel was getting at. His face softened. “You mean ‘asexual’ Cas?”

“Yes!” Castiel’s body sagged in his relief. “I know what asexual means in terms of science – plants and amoeba reproduce asexually – but I’ve never heard it applied to humans. You’re telling me it’s a sexual orientation?”

Dean’s face had closed off some when Castiel had mentioned plants but something about his honest curiosity must have spurred him into answering. “I mean, yeah. And, hey, I’m no expert on any of this shit, but my brother Sammy looked into it some when he had an existential crisis back in college. He’s demisexual, which is a kind of offshoot of asexuality.”

Castiel squinted. “Demi from the latin dīmidius, meaning semi or half. So half-sexual?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, man? The way Sam tells it, he only feels sexual attraction if he knows a person first. Like he couldn’t do a one night stand because he can’t get it up unless they exchanged promise rings.”

Castiel nodded, his brain working furiously. “So asexuality…”

“You don’t feel sexual attraction at all. Ever.”

And something in his head went thunk.

“Oh.”

Dean nodded, slipping the newly cleaned trench coat over Castiel’s shoulders and returning to his hair.

This was the absolute worst time for Castiel to have a major life discovery. He had to entertain guests. He had to pull off this new look and seem interesting and confident or else he would embarrass Dean and spoil all of his hard work.

Dean who he did not want to have sex with.

And also Dean who he was attracted to.

Which was apparently a thing.

“Can asexual people be in relationships?”

Dean turned from where he’d been selecting another mini weenie, to raise his eyebrow at Castiel. “‘Scuse me?”

Castiel blushed, aware he’d made some kind of faux pas. “I only mean, if they aren’t interested in people, can they still have romantic relationships?”

Dean snorted. “Uh, yeah, Cas. You can like someone and not want to bone them.”

Castiel blushed darker. “No, of course, I only meant–”

Dean seemed to take pity on him. He steered them both out onto the balcony of Castiel’s apartment, waving at party guests as he went, making glib comments about ‘stealing the man of honor for a bit’.

When they were safely secure on a shadowy portion of the balcony, Dean addressed him. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it outright like that but Castiel was never one for subtlety.

Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean had been expecting but he was sure by his expression that it hadn’t been that.

He blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m attracted to you.” Castiel repeated. Dean swallowed. “But not… sexually. Which is apparently a thing people can not feel. Sexual attraction I mean. So I’m not sexually attracted to you but I still… want you. And I don’t know what that means.”

Dean looked gobsmacked, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock.

“I thought you were straight.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They were both quiet, looking at each other, then away, then coming back.

This was clearly a lot for Dean to take in. And Castiel understood: they had only really known each other for a little less than twelve hours. Dean was not responsible for handling Castiel’s gay panic.

And from the way he kept running his hand over his face, he didn’t seem equipped for it.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said hurriedly, taking a physical step back, “this isn’t your problem, I shouldn’t have–”

“No, hey, wait.” Dean reached out, his hand taking residence on Castiel’s shoulder in which was a by now common and comforting gesture. “I know how freaky this must be for you, I want to help.”

Castiel’s eyes felt very wide. He was sure his pulse shouldn’t be that fast.

Dean squeezed his shoulder before letting go, clearing his throat into his hand. He avoided eye contact. “From what I understand,” he started, inspecting his hands, “there is a difference between sexual and romantic attraction. Like, it’s possible to feel one and not the other or neither or both or… I don’t know.”

Dean was clearly uncomfortable. Clearly not used to talking about this. Castiel softened, overcome by Dean’s kindness and compassion. This was a feeling he was familiar with: this feeling like a warmth behind his sternum and tightness of his throat. He felt this emotion with strangers and friends alike. Maybe this was… romantic attraction?

“Most people don’t have to think about their romantic and sexual attraction as separate things because they match up. Gay people feel romantic and sexual attraction for the same sex, straight people for a different sex, yada yada. But with asexuals it’s different because they, or I guess, you?” Castiel nodded tentatively. “You want closeness with someone but not, like, sexual closeness.”

Dean tripped and stumbled over his words but it didn’t even matter. Every sentence rang so true. Castiel felt like doors in his mind were opening, he felt like decades of his personal history were only just now gaining context.

Even today, with Dean. There were moments when Castiel was sure he was missing something, sure there was something about Dean that was eluding him. But it was something about Castiel. When he thought about Dean’s defined face and strong shoulders and soft midway, he appreciated it but abstractly. He thought about Dean’s kind eyes and curling laugh and the tactual hands that always found their way to Castiel’s shoulder, arm, or back. For those features he could write sonnets.

“Fuck,” he said simply, tone flat.

Dean laughed, the sound punched out of him. “Yeah. Or not, as the case may be.”

Castiel looked at him for two beats, and then he collapsed in laughter, coming forward to crush Dean into a hug.

They both smothered their laughter into each other’s necks, Castiel with gratitude and Dean shushing him and stroking his hair.

Castiel became aware he was also stroking over Dean’s hair, his fingers absently playing with the bristles at the back of his neck.

“Dean, will you go on a date with me?”

Dean choked out another laugh, this one a little wetter.

“Geez, Cas, you find out you’re not straight only ten minutes ago and already you’re trying to romance me?”

“Are you not amenable?”

Dean pulled back, smiling at Cas and pulling in to rub their noses together.

“Nah, man, I’m amenable as hell.”

Normally at the end of an episode of Queer Eye , the Fab Five do a quick run down with each other of how the evening went.

This special episode ended with a freeze frame of Castiel and Dean in front of all the guests, holding hands. A title card professing, “Turns out Castiel wasn’t straight. But Dean Winchester still made him look great! Tune in next week for another celebrity episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.*

“* We are not responsible for any sexual awakenings that may occur.”

[starlitheaven]

hii! congrats on 1k! for the event, miracle aligner by the last shadow puppets + gojo :D up to you if you want to do nsfw or not! lots of love and hope you're having a great day :] <3

thank you! <3 this is actually an idea i've been meaning to write so i'm glad this song gave me that feel. sorry if this isn’t the best.

MIRACLE ALIGNER — SATORU GOJO

1.3k words. established relationship, fluff, no curses au, moving in together

for all his prestige and pedigree, satoru is just a man who's trying to gain his footing.

his family name commands respect but he’s rarely been given it since his youth. he’s often been described as wild, unruly, rude, disrespectful, immature, and arrogant. by people who barely know him—they take one look at the front he puts up and write him off as a reckless man who acts on his own without a care to anyone else.

and sure, some of it is true and he isn’t ashamed of admitting his own faults. yet impulsive isn't a word he’d use to describe himself; at least not in the sense that alludes to him being irresponsible. that isn’t entirely wrong either, but he often thinks things through before making decisions others may deem as rash. 

it’s not his fault that his mind operates on a higher level than the average person and that his gut feelings are rarely wrong. the exception to this is you. when it comes to you, he tends to overthink that genius brain of his and go through every possibility all in hopes of making the right decision.

you're the one thing that satoru won't be careless with.

you’re moving in together.

the choice wasn’t made on a whim while high off of young love and sweet promises. not something you suddenly decided half asleep in bed after fucking for hours. it’s something you’ve been discussing for some time, even if it was in an offhand sort of way. he can come off as flippant, no matter how serious the topic. he finds it hilarious and an asset.

but no, he was 100% serious. swear.

satoru has treated you and your relationship so gently and tentatively since, well, you two became exclusive. after one too many dates, it could no longer continue being “dating around” in the way you two had intended after hitting it off during that mixer months ago. not when most of his walls had dissolved like sand. more like when you came at them like a bulldozer if he was gonna be honest.

he’d always been so frivolous with no regard for personal space. most are wary around him and very few have welcomed it. very few, as in less than three people. you being one of them, instead you indulged him and bounced off of his energy. he’s always loved that about you. 

you’re patient and gentle in ways that he could never be, and he wanted to keep that for himself. wanted to nurture it and give you the life you deserved.

now you’re stepping into a new milestone side by side, hand in hand. 

the decision was made one day over dinner after spending the day in at your apartment. your lease was up in a few months and you were unsure whether you wanted to renew it or not. it was a casual conversation between two adults in a relationship, and he'd mentioned his was up as well some time after yours. he hadn’t thought about his words at all, it was just a normal conversation. 

then, suddenly. 

“what if…” you trailed off, setting your chopsticks down to turn to him. at your pensive voice, he turned back to you with a soft questioning hum. there was some rice stuck to his cheek and you picked it off without thought. “what if we moved in together?”

even then, it wasn’t a sudden yes or no. you waved your hands suddenly, assuring him that he shouldn’t feel obligated or forced to. didn't even have to respond right away, it was just an option you suggested. and satoru didn’t respond right away. he said it’s crossed his mind, but he didn’t know what to think now that it’s out there. so, you let it go while you continued contemplating your own decision. 

over the next few weeks, the idea took root and made a home in the deepest parts of his mind. he hated whenever you’d have to take the train late at night from his place. or coming over to your apartment after work and hearing you say “welcome home!”. except, it wasn’t his home.

then, one night, he rolled off of your naked and flushed body to pull you into a post-coital embrace. wrapped a thick arm over your shoulders and hummed pleasantly as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. the realization that he had to leave the little world you two created in your bedroom to his own apartment cemented the decision he’d been mulling over. 

he didn't want to wake up or fall asleep in bed without you beside him. he nuzzled his cheek over the top of your head that night and told you he's made his choice. satoru wanted to move in. your lips pulling into a wide grin is all he needed to see to know that he’ll never regret this. you squealed and peppered happy kisses all over his face.

the mere thought of him living with you brought a bounce to his step and made him even worse to be around. he was on a fucking cloud and decided to make it everyone’s problem. actually, he made it nanami’s problem. his poor coworker had to listen to him list the pros and cons of certain neighborhoods, have gojo’s several boards on pinterest shoved in his face during lunch, and grieve over no longer being minutes away from his favorite patisserie.

the buzz of excitement was riddled with the tedious busywork of finding a place to live in tokyo that would work for two working adults. it was important to live near a train station that you both used, have your favorite stores nearby, and preferably near a bigger park. satoru wanted to get a dog soon. then there was setting up appointments to view apartments and go through that whole process. the documents, the paperwork, the movers, the deposits. 

all of that annoying shit and now satoru is standing in his new apartment. your new apartment. one that he’s sharing with you. it’s all white and empty, nothing but boxes to fill the large space. there’s so much to unpack that he has no idea where to start.

he’s literally standing in the kitchen holding a box of mugs but it hasn’t hit him yet. he’s still reeling from the past few months and can’t wrap his mind around the fact that this is it. it’s done. the words that came out of your lips those months ago caused this. what if...what if we moved in together, and now here it is. it’s happened. 

but then he’s unwrapping the mugs from the box, washing them, and drying them. he’s opening the cabinet he decided will store them and starts arranging them inside. his expensive ceramic one, your strawberry patterned one, his cat one, your totoro one. 

satoru can hear your music playing from inside the bathroom and he absently hums along to it. such a weird place to start, but he also finds it very cute. he’s got the dishes out and is beginning to put them away before realizing that he’ll need to give you the lowest levels. taking your shrimpy height into consideration, satoru begins to fill up the kitchen. 

when he’s done, he feels something stir in his chest. the space is filled with items that you’ve each brought from your old places. it’s the embodiment of you joining your lives together as a couple. not only that, but there’s also things that you two have purchased together. you’ve come together and are now a unit. 

this is it, satoru thinks. there’s no more of the empty feeling he feels when either of you have to go back home. no more longing for you on his cold bed. no more having to plan a good time for you two to spend weekends together. 

satoru is home, and it’s with you.

[bringingglory]

@eerna oh my god acshdgagaahhdvsahsv I never expected you to see my post, so I won't lie, I feel like super embarrassed acsgsga

anyway! not gonna lie, this wip has been sitting in my drafts for months now because I wanted to see if I could plan stuff but then I got stuck because Details are hard to figure out BUT I did write out a few scenes, so I'll put them below the cut because they're kind of long. the first one is the "opening" of the fic and the second one is a sort of reimagining of the Silent Princess memory. i have a few other scenes sort of scribbled out, but these are the most "polished" of the stuff i've written alsdkfjasdfk

the opening lol

Link wakes to a faint buzzing in his ear that sends little darts of pain shooting through his skull. He waits for it to end, and when it doesn’t he groans and rolls over, smacking the space around him to find whatever was making that noise and make it shut up. He can’t fathom why his brain is rolling through his skull like that and why there’s an intense pressure behind his eyes, but when he rolls onto his side, he has to press a hand to his abdomen to settle whatever was sloshing around inside his stomach.

Ah. He’s hungover.

Link peels open his eyes and the light sends a fresh wave of pain ricocheting through his skull. He blinks once, twice, and then forces his eyes open to find a phone the size vibrating against the ground a few inches away from his hand.

Link groans and pushes himself up to a sitting position before grabbing the phone and dismissing the alarm. When the phone falls silent in his hands, he finally looks around and tries to assess the situation.

He’s sitting in a bathtub, the porcelain slightly damp from what he hopes is just water. His shirt smells vaguely of cheap vodka and he still can barely look at the sunlight streaming through the window without wincing.

A moment later, he realizes the phone in his hands isn’t his.

Link holds the phone up to his face and rubs the grogginess from his eyes. He swipes up on the screen, surprised that it isn’t protected by a password.

The phone is open on note in the notes app, and it reads:

link, if you’re reading this right now, im so sorry for leaving you in the tub like that!!! my dad’s supposed to come home from the office today and the document case i was telling you about is missing and he cant know i lost it. i know we just started getting along, and im so sorry to ask you this, but could you find the document case? impa’s in my contacts and she can help you. also you have permission to dig through my phone, just dont judge me if i have anything embarrassing on there. can you find the file by midnight? his flight leaves at 3 and i can stall him until then.

it’s 6:11 right now so i have to run before he gets back, but please hurry! i’ll be waiting for you

-zelda

Link blinks and turns the phone off.

Last night? What happened last night? Why can’t he remember anything?

Well, if his raging headache tells him anything, it’s that he had probably blacked out last night.

Link isn’t usually a drinker or a partier. He isn’t really one to go to big social events. So he’s really confused as to why he woke up passed out in a tub with zero memories.

And also, why Zelda left her phone with him.

a version of the Silent Princess memory but they're at a party and its modern

Zelda laughs. “I think I got a little too sober from the Yiga incident to enjoy the party now.”

Link isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh with her, but nods anyway. “Do you want to get some air?”

Zelda gives him an odd look, then sighs. “Yeah. Yes. That would be a good idea.”

Surprisingly, she grabs his forearm and leads him through all the bodies pressed against each other. He can feel the heat of her hand wrapping entirely around his arm like a hot glove, even above the heat of the late summer air and the heat from other people in close proximity.

Somehow, they make it to the other side of the house. Zelda pushes the back door open and pulls him past the other stragglers outside before they find a nice tree with a patch of grass that seems generally clear of alcohol and vomit.

Zelda releases his arm as soon as she finds the tree and she sits down, dropping her head against the trunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Zelda waves her hand vaguely.

Link pauses. “Do you need water?”

“If you get me any more water, I’m probably gonna piss myself,” says Zelda. “Sit down.”

He sits down.

The crickets hum vaguely around them, mingling with the distant buzzing and thumping bass of the music from the party. But without people pressing in from all sides and an open field in front of them, it finally feels like he can take a full breath.

The silence settles over them like a blanket. It feels comfortable to him, but he isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be.

“Oh, Link, look.”

Link cranes his head to see Zelda twist around and point out a blue flower glowing vaguely in the dark. It was beautiful with blue petals so light they looked almost white, and a sky blue bleeding out from the center before fading out.

He wants to give her a questioning look, but she’s transfixed on the flower. He can see the smallest of smiles creeping up onto the corners of her mouth.

“It’s a Silent Princess,” she says. “It was my mom’s favorite flower.”

He can tell something important is happening, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“She said that we can’t grow them domestically yet, despite our best efforts.” Zelda breaks into a full smile and it’s radiant. “The Princess can only thrive out here. In the wild.”

They both turn to look back at the house as another loud WHOOP cuts through the air, followed by the sound of a can being crushed against a head.

“Nature is beautiful,” says Link.

Zelda swats him and he has to bite back a laugh.

She turns and runs a gentle finger along one of the petals before sighing and leaning back against the tree.

“Thank you,” she says suddenly. “For being there with the Yiga. And for being there the whole party.” He can hear her swallow. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“You weren’t being a bitch,” says Link.

“I was, though.” Zelda inhales beside him. “I mean, just because I’m under a lot of stress from my dad doesn’t mean I’m allowed to take it out on other people. I was acting like a kid.”

“To be fair, your dad sounds like an asshole sometimes.”

Zelda snorts. “Yeah. He can be.” He turns his head to see her lean forward to fiddle with the grass. “But he’s got a lot on his plate. And it probably doesn’t help that his daughter doesn’t want anything to do with his ‘legacy.’”

“Just because your dad’s under a lot of pressure doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be an asshole,” Link points out.

Zelda finally looks up at him and offers him a small grin. “Fair enough.”

“And besides, you’re your own person. You don’t need to follow in his footsteps.”

“That’s what I said,” huffs Zelda. “But of course it’s, ‘blah blah you have a responsibility. I didn’t raise you like this so you could waste your time researching pointless things.’” She sighs. “It’s fine. It’s whatever. I came to this stupid party to blow off steam, I guess. But Goddess, I did not eat enough today to drink that many cans of shitty beer.”

Link sits upright, alert. “Do you need to get food or—”

“No, no, that’s fine.” And that smile returns and Link wonders what else he can say to make it stay. “You’re sweet. But I’ve probably gotten drunk enough tonight.” Her eyes slide up to him and the mischief in them stops his heart for a moment. “You still have to try the Hot Frog.”

Link blinked. “...what is that?”

--

the endings are abrupt on both of them just bc i wasn't entirely sure how to end them akldjfasd. also the "Hot Frog" is gonna be some kind of mixed drink that gets link really drunk -- me trying to allude more to the original memory from the game haha

anyway, thank you so much for the ask! and thank u for coming up with the shitpost because it made me laugh the first time i read it hasdklfj hopefully i'll continue this one day and do ur shitpost au justice!