#now sure you could say being polite to a coworker you hate is an incredibly low bar. but. like. it's often not one riders clear!!

[batsplat]

deeply compelled by this photo

[gojo-inabox]

screws loose (kishibe x gn!reader)

You’ve lasted 4 years in the Devil Hunting business, and that time was long enough for Kishibe and yourself to come to terms with your nonchalant feelings towards eachother.

Word Count: 3957

Warnings: Kishibe (lmfao 💀), smoking, alcohol, describing violence and fighting, slight gore (??), dead body, language slightly, kind of OOC but that’s also kind of the point idk man, kissing, weird but comfortable tension

Admittedly, you didn’t hate your job. You couldn’t.

For the most part, working as a Devil Hunter wasn’t terrible: Sure, yeah, the whole death at every corner thing was a major blow, but you didn’t mind the pay, or the people you met along the way. Sure they were short lived, but it was fine.

You could deal with it, if they died they died. If you died you died, at that point it didn't matter if you got paid - and hey, if you lived, a hefty penny was sent your way.

You could deal with the idea of death, with the idea of devils lurking every corner, your coworkers being so bittersweet and temporary.

Though, for some particular reason, for every person that died in your vicinity, it only solidified the one constant thing in your life: Kishibe, your partner.

Only Makima knows why you would get partnered with the grizzled alcoholic, but it didn't matter - he was solidified in your life the moment you were paired together at the beginning of your career as a devil hunter.

Kishibe was the one thing that never changed - alcoholic, unashamed, calm, and blunt. Even if every person around you dropped dead, even if you watched every rookie get brutally murdered by some low life devil, even if you yourself played your cards a little too wildly and didn't know if you'd come home that day - it seemed you'd always end the day parting ways with him.

The roughed up blonde wasn’t a bad person per say, he’s generally relaxed and polite, when speaking it’s obvious he has years of experience under his belt. His lack of emotion in his day to day work mildly pissed you off, but you two meant a lot to each other - you just didn’t know it.

Though most days you’d claim he went out of his way to piss you off, and that you swore you hated the man - you were mostly lying to yourself.

"This is a matter that needs to be resolved quite quickly, but also carefully. We cannot risk hitting heads with any private civilians at this time." Despite the pressure at hand, and the severity of the situation, Makimas voice was soft, and careful.

Her hands were clasped tightly on her desk, eyes barely blinked, scanning yourself for any signs of emotion. Even after working for Public Safety for 4 years now, Makima made you incredibly uneasy. The longer you found yourself alive and working here, the more often you'd be in Makimas office, you found yourself memorising her office - the lack of decorations and very subtle touches of herself.

Makima took your silence as understanding, and continued, "(Y/N), I hope you would know where your partner is? He was supposed to join us."

Of course she'd ask that. Technically - no, you didn't know where Kishibe was, but you'd take a guess. It was common for him to leave you to all the office and paperwork stuff, so he could fuck off somewhere with a bottle of booze in hand and show up later. He did it because he knew that you would handle yourself, and that he wouldn't really be reprimanded.

Simply nodding, you stood up and quickly fixed your blazer and wiped your wrinkled pants down, "I could probably guess. Don't worry about it, Makima, I can relay the information."

All she did was smile, nodding and following suit. Walking around her desk and at your side as you both walked towards the door. As she saw you out, she handed you the file, “I expect this to be taken care of before Friday, and next time, make sure Kishibe joins us.”

Nodding, you smiled and walked out, her office door closing behind you. The second you heard the click, your smile dropped, body moving down the hallway, and to the stairs. Slugging down the stairs, flipped through the file, internally cringing at the prospect of explaining the mission to Kishibe.

Once out of the building, you slouched against one of the concrete walls. The sun was almost completely gone, the night sky being illuminated by the light pollution from the city, you breathed in the crisp air. Even at night, the city was still so busy - cars driving by, people in and out of store fronts and restaurants, the noise of traffic filled the air.

It all seemed so simple, yet here you are.

The next day was rough. Getting up later than you would typically wish, it wasn’t really your style to be late, you had 20 minutes until Kishibe would pick you up so you two could deal with the problem Makima was up in arms over. Scrambling around your apartment, you tried your best to get ready in record time.

The front door knob jiggled and eventually opened, Kishibe just letting himself in - normally any other person doing this would warrant you probably killing them, and well this certainly added to the list of things Kishibe did that pissed you off, you let it be, walking right past him into your bedroom to grab your blazer.

“Ready yet?” Kishibe calmly asked, watching you scramble to slide the blazer on, all while scanning the living room for your watch.

“Yeah one sec.” Trailing off to find it, Kishibe shifted into your kitchen, rummaging through your liquor cabinet to fill up his flask . Again, another thing to add to the list, but you certainly couldn’t be bothered.

Finishing up, the pair of you headed out the door and down to his car. Kishibe had the grace to drive you basically everywhere, after 4 years it was basically his love language to say, ‘Hey I don’t hate you’, just as you let him raid your liquor cabinet as he pleases.

As both of you hopped into his car, he leaned over to pop open the glove box, pulling out two brand new cigarette boxes.

Handing you one, you smiled, “Thanks, you didn’t have to.” Kishibe didn’t say anything back. He didn’t mind. Though both of you knew you’d end up sharing a cigarette anyways.

The drive wasn’t too long; you gave Kishibe a brief overview of the situation, explaining the devil and the precautions you’d have to take to not interfere with the private sector's work.

Honestly you doubted he listened, but it was your job, so you explained anyway, “The devil has just recently appeared, he seems rather weak, it’s just he’s awfully clever. Private hunters attempted to kill it two days ago, and they’re going to try again tomorrow, so we better deal with it today.”

“Or else Makima gets pissed.” Kishibe scoffed, flicking his cigarette out of the window. The drive continued in silence.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk of a, almost, dead city street, everything was grey it seemed. Modern architecture sucked. Gazing up at the building the Public Safety Devil Hunters got a report about, it was an older office building.

The pair of you walked in, silence basking yourself and the lobby of the building. Nothing felt wrong - not yet at least - there was no signs of any disturbance in recent years. Dust was everywhere, on every surface and in the air. The wooden floors creaked with every step, you found yourself turning to the back of the receptionist desk, looking at the reminders of the past.

“When I was a kid, my dream job was actually being a receptionist.” You stated, smiling at the loose notepads and office supplies. Kishibe’s brows knitted together in confusion, you continued, “Sitting on your ass all day and writing paperwork for a decent paycheck? It sounded appealing. Then I did it while in college.”

“Didn’t work out?” Kishibe humoured you. He always did, he loved your rambling. Rounding back around the desk, the two of you turned the corner to wander down a main hallway.

The hallway was long, and dark, dust particles visible as they floated in the rays of sunlight peering through the few windows - most of which were boarded up. Despite the status as being abandoned, the halls were decently clean.

You scoffed, scanning the hallway and peering into each door you passed. “It was okay work. Money wasn't bad. I just didn’t find any thrill in doing paperwork.”

“From paperwork to devil hunting. Huh.” Kishibe chuckled, rolling your eyes as you shoved him a little.

Laughing, you continued, “You can’t act like my job now isn’t still 75% paperwork, because someone doesn’t wanna do their job.”

Kishibe let a smirk pull through, he couldn’t help that your laugh was rather contagious. It was a rather mundane and meaningless conversation, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often devil hunters got to have a normal conversation.

As Kishibe pondered his comeback to your comment, you both stopped dead in your tracks, feeling a presence weight on both of you. Your hand met your waist, grabbing at your weapon and holding it firmly, Kishibe doing the same.

Peering into the room you had stopped in front of, you were quick to spot a body laying in the centre of the room. It was a woman, from what you knew most likely a private devil hunter, though she was dressed in the same attire as both yourself and Kishibe.

Looking around the room for an enemy, you stepped closer to the woman. Her body was almost completely devoid of all moisture; face was ashy, lips chapped and cracking painfully, eyeballs shrivelled and almost nonexistent. Her hair was crisp, thin, and looked like it was missing in chunks.

Littered with bruises, cuts and scratches, she didn’t go down without a fight. Furrowing your brows in confusion, ‘Where is the devil, then?’ Kishibe shared your mental sentiment with his body language, staying almost completely still whilst peering around the room.

After a few moments, you felt that feeling go away. This was definitely the work of a devil, but it seemed unlikely that the devil was still here with you right now. A hand placed itself upon your shoulder, you sighed, turning to face Kishibe and hopelessly continue the survey of the building.

That wasn’t Kishibe.

Almost immediately upon turning around and coming face-to-face with some grotesque devil, you were slammed across the room, back hitting hard against the wall. The devil let out a rather annoyed giggle, trying it’s best to contain its laughter.

That shit hurt, you probably knocked through at least 5 desks, and you scrambled up out of the dent that your body had made into the wall. Kishibe hadn’t even attempted to check on you, immediately making work of fighting the devil - he knew you were fine.

It wasn’t hard for Kishibe and yourself to get into a flow while in battle, once you picked yourself up, you joined in. Kishibe and yourself taking turns at attacking the enemy, confusing it, as it didn’t know who to hit at. You both dodged its attacks, as they were rather repetitive.

You took your own turns at chopping some of the limbs of the devil off. The devil shrieked, frustrated that it was loosing this battle so quickly. It hastily picked up office furniture and flung it around, hoping it hit one of you.

Before you knew it, Kishibe grunted rather loudly, snapping your head you watch him fall down.

Shit. He got hit.

Kishibe dragged himself backwards, trying to get out of line of the devil momentarily. Panicking, you grabbed ahold of the devil and flung yourself on top of it, the devil twisted and turned, trying to throw you off as it’s now stubby limbs attempted to regenerate.

Kishibe grunted out your name, probably trying to get you to get off of the thing, but you didn’t listen, shamelessly taking hits and hitting the devil back. The devil shrieked again, very loudly, as you stabbed it in the eye with a piece of metal.

It fell to the ground as you pierced it, pushing and digging the piece deeper and deeper into the devil. It went limp, and you tumbled off of it. It was dead.

Scrambling to get up, you slugged your body towards Kishibe. He was fine, a deep cut on his arm was the worst of his injuries, the rest were a few cuts, though he would definitely be waking up with a hefty bruise on his back tomorrow, as would you.

“That was stupid of you.” He commented, accepting your hand as you pulled him off the floor. Shrugging, you lead him out of the now destroyed room. A comfortable silence is present among you two as you make your way backwards, back down the hall and eventually out of the building.

God, even after you basically saved his ass, he still irritates you sometimes.

Though sure, Kishibe never failed to piss you off with his attitude and lack of communication, in all honesty, you didn’t hate him. A rather low bar certainly, but it was remarkable. Even after 4 years, and him getting on your nerves like no one before, you didn’t mind his presence. Not just as a partner, but as a person.

Maybe it was you being content with your situation, you found yourself not minding his company. Sure he did a lot that made your head spin, but you thrived off of the little things; When you two would finish a job and get dinner after, or when you’d take turns taking swigs from his flask after a particularly irritating meeting with Makima, or when he’d listen to your ramblings about something that pissed you off at work giving rather blunt comments, taking drags from a cigarette you shared.

The past 4 years together, it wasn’t bad, honestly.

Maybe you could admit you liked Kishibe as a person. For one thing, he was definitely attractive; an older, grizzled man who had some years under his belt. And for another, his personality, albeit somewhat difficult, was rather endearing, especially when you stayed around longer than he expected, and especially when he realised you weren’t going anywhere.

Kishibe liked you too, in his own ass-backwards way - well you assumed.

"Don't make me think I wasted my time training you." The grizzled man said, taking a chug of his silver flask.

The sky was dim, oranges and pinks painting the west sky, a cascading light shifted the darkness and shadows of the buildings and street lights - the sun was setting.

The two of you had made your way to Kishibes car, calling Makima and alerting her to the elimination of the devil. Rummaging through his glove box, you pulled out a bandage to apply to Kishibes mild wound. It would do for now, you knew he wouldn’t go to the doctor until tomorrow morning.

You shrugged, rolling up his sleeve, beginning to wrap his wound, "I think at this point l've proved myself. If anything I’m starting to wonder if whoever trained you failed.”

The blonde chuckled, letting you finish the quick dressing of the cut, pulling away as you finished, screwing the lid of his flask shut tight, shoving it in his coat pocket, “How so?”

“Maybe how you never showed up to our summons to Makima? You didn’t even know why we came here.” You argued, pulling out a cigarette from your coat pocket and lighting it. Kishibe smirked slightly - he was the one who got you to start smoking, you even smoked the same brand as him.

Kishibe sighed, looking around carelessly, he honestly was surprised that you were still so serious about the job. Maybe he had worked here too long, “No, but you did, I can always count on you.”

For a split moment, you caught each other's eyes, you’d maybe even be tricked into believing he meant that. Breaking the contact, you scoffed, wiping blood off of your weapon. Kishibe leaned against his car, plucking the cigarette from your mouth and into his, taking a long drag.

You could feel him staring, wondering what could be going on in that head of his. The cigarette met your mouth again, looking up, the man was merely inches from your face, intently staring at you. “I figured it out.”

Scrunching your face and furrowing your brows, you scoffed again at the blonde, “Oh? Another drunk prophecy?”

Kishibe sighed, pulling back away from you and assuming his position leaning against his car, his eyes stared up at the sky, “You didn’t have any screws loose when I met you. I thought you’d make it a few months tops.”

“That’s awful. Thank you, I guess.” Kishibe chuckled at your response. Shuffling over to him, you assumed a position leaning against the car next to him, your bodies touched as you both stared off into the sky. His warmth was comforting, you didn’t get a lot of that in this business.

“Yeah. But you’ve stuck around. It’s been 4 years and 5 months.” Kishibe kept count, in fact, to the month. You didn’t take him too much as the sentimental type, you figured he was rather nonchalant about whether or not you stayed around - at least that’s how he typically acted. Sure he had his moments of kindness, they weren’t stereotypical, but you figured it just meant he was being civil as a co-worker.

Your silence enabled him to continue, “The devil hunters with a few screws loose stick around the longest, because devils are scared of them. But you? I didn’t really get it, to be honest.”

The sun was completely gone now, pinks and oranges had faded into the night sky. Though for the night sky, it wasn’t very dark, and you couldn’t see many stars - despite it being clear. That was the downside of being in Tokyo.

The air was crisp, and cold, you almost wanted Kishibe to take you in his arms, his warmth was tempting. The temperature always dropped this time of year, you hated it.

Kishibes point still wasn’t being made, it’s not like he had a near death experience, so you were perplexed by the sudden admission of empathy he was expressing. Maybe he just finally let the bowl overfill.

“I’m not crazy enough for you?” His eyes rolled at your comment, but he stayed silent for a moment. The air between the two of you was slightly thick, his every word was out of character and unpredictable.

Kishibe turned to you, grabbed the cigarette from your lips once again, putting them to his and taking a drag, the smoke flowing from his nostrils. “I figured it out though. You have a screw loose.”

Again, he was right up at your face, inches away. His every feature on display for you to see, his eyes were blank despite his words, the scent of alcohol filled your nose.

“Yeah? What is it?” Shakily you breathed out, heart racing at the sudden lack of space between you two. He could see it written on your face, how much this made you nervous, how you wanted this to last - you basked in the feeling and in the moment.

Flicking the cigarette aside, he continued to look down at you - it seemed he was doing the same, taking in your features. “You like me.”

It wouldn’t be far off to say your heart made a terrible halt, you honestly probably had a slight heart attack. “I mean you’re my co-worker, I kind of have to-“

“No. You like me. You find me endearing, like being around me. That’s your screw that’s loose.” Kishibe stated rather bored, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of a reaction, your silence bothered him, “Am I wrong?”

“No.”

Within a moment of uttering that, he leaned in, grabbing your jaw and pulling you further into him, finding warmth as your lips touched. Your soft lips moved effortlessly against his rather rough ones, his hand wandered from your jaw to the back of your head, the other hand at your waist, pulling your body as close to his as he could.

The warmth of your bodies combined, his rough, large hands kneaded at your waist. Soft moans were pulled from your throat as he pushed into you, your back was harshly pushed against the cold metal of his car.

The kiss was rough, it was hasty, it was sloppy. Despite this, you enjoyed every second of it. It was like you both waited your entire lives for this moment, but now that you had it, you were both utterly unsure if you’d ever have the chance again.

Placing your hands on either wait of his face, you pulled away, gasping slightly for air. His hands are still positioned at your side and the nape of your neck, caging you against the car. Once again, you two found yourselves taking in each other's features.

A part of you was still shaken from the sudden admission from Kishibe, while he didn’t admit he also felt the same, his actions spoke volumes - the other part of you was heavy, you wondered if he did this just cause he’s drunk or still riding off the adrenaline of the fight.

Kishibe could see the look in your eyes, he could practically read your mind. His grip on you loosened slightly as he sighed, nodding to himself. Letting go, he rounded to the driver's side of the car and opened the door, “Let’s get you home.”

You sighed at his statement. Nodding and rounding around to the passengers side, slipping into the seat and shutting the door. The ride was silent, there wasn’t really much tension, the both of you just seemed to be in thought.

Kishibe kissed you. And yes, you kissed him back.

Over 4 years ago you were paired with the veteran devil hunter by seemingly luck. Makima claimed she believed you two would benefit from being around each other. Whatever that meant to her, it was true.

The first year or two was tough. Kishibe was thoroughly under the impression that you would kick rocks eventually, whether you’d quit or die a meaningless death. Too stuck up, too complacent with the rules, he believed your lack of purpose and drive would surely lead you to your death.

For a while, maybe he was right.

But four years later, he stood corrected. Recently, you had reflected a lot on the past four years; You remembered the first time he realised you were sticking around, the first time you made him laugh, your first cigarette, the first time you and him got drunk, you remembered it all.

Fuck. You really did like the guy.

Pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, Kishibe didn’t say a word. Honestly, you didn’t know what could be going on in that head of his, maybe he regretted kissing you entirely.

But fuck, you didn’t regret kissing him back.

As a devil hunter, any day could be your last. It was one of the many cons of the job. Sometimes you ended a day surprised you even were able to make it back to your bed. So fuck it, “Hey it’s not too late, so you wanna get dinner?”

Kishibe looked at you with a rather unreadable expression, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, “You sure?”

Asking him to continue the night, it meant you were okay with what happened. You could just go inside now and forget today even happened, only speaking of today when telling Makima that the mission went successfully. The two of you would see each other tomorrow and nonchalantly discuss meaningless work things throughout the day - acting, pretending like something didn’t happen between you two.

That sounded miserable.

“Yeah,” You said, smiling at Kishibe, “Maybe you can pull another screw loose for me.”

[lsvdw-blog]

hey hey hey! This week we're doing something different:

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Breeeeeeee 💖 Thank you for sending these and brightening up my week! You do so much for this fandom and I appreciate you 🥰💝

The setting: The Diagnostics Office. Set post chapter 15, (before things got complicated again and let's ignore the fact that they both technically aren't employed right now 😅) Serena may or may not have told Ethan that this was about the hospital and its intern competition to get him to agree.

It was too late for him to back out when they were sat down and mic'd up 😂 Ethan glares at her... she's gonna pay for this later if you know what I mean 😏

They try to keep this interview as professional as possible but they kinda fail

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What Serena says: "...I plead the fifth."

What Serena thinks: "Hot hot hot 🥵"

Ethan: "Oh look, yet another intern."

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Serena: "I'm not sure if this counts as a swear word, but he does take the Lord's name in vain quite often: Jesus Christ. If he doesn't say that, you'll know he's displeased by literally everything else he does. The eye roll, pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw tightening, the way—"

Ethan: "Are you done?"

Serena sticks her tongue out playfully at him and he can't help the tiny uptick of his lips at that.

Ethan: "Sh*t, among others, but this one the most. She has a dirty mouth."

Serena flips her hair over her shoulder casually at the innuendo and Ethan's eyes darken slightly. He clears his throat awkwardly.

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Serena: "Blue. Hard to miss when he's looking at you like you're the dumbest thing on the planet."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "I have no clue. I have more important matters to attend to on a daily basis." (He's lying. He knows what color her eyes are b/c he stared into them as he f***ed her brains out for hours)

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Serena scoffs. "Only three?"

"Rookie," Ethan warns.

Serena sighs. "Fine. I guess it's a good thing you only want three, or else we'd be here all week. Surgeons, except for Dr. Emery, interns, except for yours truly, and The Board. I gave groups because Ethan dislikes most everyone."

"You're about to be put back on that list," he grumbles. "Serena is friends with everyone, so I can't say she dislikes anyone. Mm, there is one soon-to-be previous intern."

Serena shoots him a quizzical look and they have a silent conversation with their eyes. Bree awkwardly sits there.

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Serena: "Whenever he starts to get tunnel-visioned in his focus on something, he always rolls his sleeves up to just below his elbows and this tiny little crease will appear between his brows as they furrow."

Ethan is taken aback that she's noticed this, but tries to hide it by clearing his throat. "If something amuses her, but it hasn't gotten her to fully laugh yet, she'll scrunch her nose."

Serena looks at him with wide eyes, shocked that he's observed this.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Serena: "Uhm..."

Ethan: "I don't think—"

They start at the same time and whip their heads to look at one another. They lock eyes and it seems like everything else disappears. "Okaaaay..." Bree says under her breath.

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever (done with "I have" & "I haven't" paddles):

come into work hungover

They both raise their "I have" paddles.

Serena barks out a laugh. "Are you sure you're not confusing yourself with someone else?"

Ethan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Interns," he grumbles.

had a fistfight

Ethan raises his "I have" paddle. "I used to be a bit of a... troublemaker."

Serena, on the outside: *Poker face*

Serena, internally: "Hot hot hot 🥵"

been kicked out of a bar

Serena raises her "I have" paddle.

Ethan: "Why am I not surprised?"

Serena: "Hey!"

Ethan: "I'm going to have to hear this story though."

Serena: "Maybe if you behave."

Ethan's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

gotten a tattoo

Serena raises her "I have" paddle and Ethan tries to hide his smirk b/c he's seen it as they f***ed.

broken someone’s heart

Serena raises her "I have not" paddle, while Ethan contemplates and regretfully raises his "I have" paddle. He looks guiltily at Serena from the corner of his eye.

been in love

Both raise their "I have not" paddles. They're both idiots b/c they've fallen in love with each other 🙄

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

"Professionally, literally wherever he wants to be. He's a genius - he could do whatever he wanted and is passionate about. I think maybe he'd step back a bit from the politics of a hospital and do more philanthropic work, with the WHO perhaps. Personally, I hope he's happy. Genuinely happy. However, and with whomever, he finds that.

What do you find the most impressive about him?

"What's not impressive about him? He's remarkably intelligent, cares so deeply, even if he has a hard exterior, and is so incredibly passionate about helping his patients, medicine as a whole, and bettering the entire field."

Last thing he texted you?

"The things you get me to agree to."

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

Serena smiles. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

"She will be at the top of our field and at the top of her game. She's going to be one of the most highly sought after doctors in the world, there's no doubt in my mind. As for her personal life," he trails off and thinks for a second. "I hope she's happy. In every sense of the word."

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan blinks at Bree for a few beats. "On the record? Her intelligence, drive, compassion. Off the record? Add to those things her smile, her laugh, the way she carries herself with such confidence and grace, how she can charm just about anyone." Ethan doesn't notice, but he's smiling at this point.

Last thing she texted you?

"Please?? 🥺🥺"

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan, again, blinks at Bree for a few beats. "She would never do that. She's not the type... she's a bit old-fashioned that way. But, if she was feeling like pushing her comfort zone and beat me to it, I would agree. I do enjoy being in her company," he says, not realizing he'd said that last part out loud, with a gleam in his eyes.

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[ellgrimm]

Sweets (OHSHC bakery AU)

He lightly dusted the rectangle of dough with fine, white flour and ran it through the sheeter one last time. Mori peeled the slightly bouncy dough off the machine bed and placed it on a tray lined with a piece of plastic film. Wrapping the film snuggly around the croissant dough, he smoothed out the indents impressed by his fingertips. He scooped the tray off the maple wood table and spun around gracefully, with habitual movement, to slip it into the fridge along with the other identical trays of dough.

With that done, he slid out of the floury work apron and traded it for a fresh one he kept tidy for sales at the front register. He washed his hands and checked for any errant streaks of flour on his face. Satisfied, Mori walked out from the fairly austere kitchen and into the world of rich woods and shining glass cases that was the customer-service side of the French patisserie shop and cafe.

Haruhi was in the middle of preparing a cup of drip coffee for a patron. Another customer just arrived at the pastry counter and stood politely, waiting to place his order. “Why don’t you see to our guest, Mori?” she asked cheerfully, as she held a gooseneck kettle and slowly circled hot water over the fresh coffee grounds, keeping an eye on the weight of water being poured. A rich, gold-black coffee dripped out the bottom of the cone filter into a ribbed glass pitcher.

Mori turned to face the pastry case and reflexively picked up a set of tongs. He performed a test click: *click*. Then he looked out over the top of the case and said in a deep and calm voice a phrase he had said at least 500 times before: “Good afternoon, what would you like today?”

But there wasn’t anyone there?

He scanned left and right.

Then he directed his gaze down and his heart skipped. A pair of enormous, caramel eyes were looking up at him from underneath a glorious mop of flaxen hair. The boy spoke, blushing a bit, in a voice that rang out clear and light, “Good afternoon! I would like one tartelettes aux fraises, please.” His French was pretty good, or at least it sounded good, Mori thought. “For here,” the boy added.

“Of course,” Mori replied, as he carefully lifted the mini tart off the ceramic tray. A glazed strawberry, sliced and fanned out over piped pastry cream, sat like a glistening red jewel. He placed it on a round plate and brought it over to the register counter. “Anything else today?” Mori asked.

“Can I… get a caffe mocha?” the charming and petite lad said reluctantly after reading through the coffee menu.

Mori caught the hesitation. “Yes, sir. How many shots of espresso?” he asked attentively.

The caramel eyes wibbled a little, damply, and he burst out suddenly “um? No shots? Please?”

Mori was relieved. Now he understood what the problem was: the menu did not list “hot chocolate.” He made a mental note that he should suggest a menu update to the manager. Making cute boys cry was already not his preference; and this boy in particular deserved the world, he immediately and definitively decided.

Mori nodded and completed the cash part of the transaction. “I will bring your strawberry mini tart and no-shots ‘caffe mocha’ to you in a minute, sir. There is a table with a nice view by that window, if you like.” He gestured to a small, round table that offered a glimpse across the street of a park with a duck pond. A coveted sight in urban Tokyo.

The boy smiled and practically floated over to the promised seat. He caught sight of a mama with her raft of ducklings zooming past and gasped with delight. Mori had to work incredibly hard to suppress a grin. It was everything he had hoped for.

Haruhi noticed. She noticed a lot of things, to be clear. Here, she was shocked and intrigued that Mori had said the longest continuous string of words than she had heard at any point over the past two years since he had started working here.

To be honest, she had been surprised when Kyoya had hired him on, considering how much talking is often involved in customer service. Kyoya, in an uncommonly forthcoming reveal into the inner workings of his mind, succinctly told Haruhi once that “diversity is a strength.”And that meant, in stark contrast to longtime coworker Tamaki’s effervescent and somewhat scattered personality, a staunchly grounded giant who is almost religious in keeping up on the daily labors of a bakery is certainly an asset.

Haruhi grabbed a silver dessert spoon and placed it and a napkin on the wooden serving tray, next to the strawberry mini tart. She winked at Mori as he finished making what was honestly a hot chocolate. He grunted softly, as if to say “hush, you.”

---

He came in every day that week. And every day he tried a different sweet pastry. As far as Mori could tell, he loved them all equally.

And Kyoya saw no objection to adding Hot Chocolate to the official cafe menu. “It’s not seasonally appropriate, but there has been an anti-caffiene health trend picking up lately,” he said decisively.

On the last day of his work week, Mori once again watched the boy leave the shop for the day. This time, the boy, busy looking at his phone, bumped into a trio of well-built, strong young men. He started to apologize for running into them, and Mori panicked a little, instinctively leaping over the counter and dashing past the other customers sitting at their tables. A blur of hyperactivity in an otherwise amazingly calm and inviting space.

And then Mori stopped, his heart beating hard.

“Haninozuka-sensei! We are so very sorry for getting in your way!” the trio barked, stiffly and respectfully bowing. Honey smiled kindly and waved them off.

“Oh, no, it was my fault entirely! I must have been busy with my own thoughts,” Haninozuka offered brightly. And after a quick exchange of pleasantries, he turned and walked up the street.

The trio lingered and talked amongst themselves. Mori tried not to listen, sort of. But he desperately needed to know more about this Haninozuka person. Their… sensei?

“Sensei was so...” Said the first one.

“I know! He’s been such a goddamn hardass at the dojo lately. I wasn’t expecting it.” The second offered.

“I was ready for him to beat us up right here on the sidewalk.” The third expressed, now relieved.

Mori was dumbfounded. This bubbly slip of a lad who giggled at baby ducks and was afraid to ask for a coffee without coffee... was apparently also a brutal martial arts teacher? He couldn’t possibly... and the name was familiar, but he couldn’t finish the thought.

Mori swam in his thoughts for a minute, completely adrift in the dissonance, before Tamaki finally caught his attention and brought him back to earth. “Mori-senpai!” he practically sang, “you left this winsome young lady before giving back her change~”

Mori’s eyes flashed and he looked back, embarrassed. “Very sorry, miss.”

“Um, well, I don’t mind!” she chirped. And she honestly hadn’t minded. He had been athletic and lithe --like an action hero-- when he vaulted himself over the counter, and it had made her think spicy thoughts she would never say aloud. Not something she had expected to experience during her trip to the nicest pastry shop in the ward, but it was a surprise she would treasure for years.

---

It was an agonizing week before Haninozuka came back into the patisserie.

Mori spent every shift that week dutifully doing his work, to the best of his ability. But his ability had degraded because a solid half of his brain was fixated on this mystery. Cute? Cruel? Sweets? Sensei? It consumed him, and he was beginning to hate himself for it. It had been much easier to do this job before he had someone he so looked forward to being around.

Then Mori caught himself. Sure, the work was easier before, when he had been habitually focused entirely on the tasks. Separating eggs. Measuring flour. Shaping butter into thick slabs. Pouring coffee and picking croissants out of the case. Even washing dishes. It had become a somewhat mindless rhythm.

But Haninozuka had made him want to come to work. It made the work feel more purposeful, somehow. It was like Mori had a specific audience in mind when he wiped tables. An audience he wanted to feel safe and comfortable and happy in his domain.

But what if Haninozuka was a bad person? Those three guys had been so sure that this was an unusual side to him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for their comments to color his idea of this boy. But he also was afraid it would be foolish to not heed their words. Surely they knew their sensei better than Mori could possibly have gotten to in a handful of hours over a few days?

But eventually, he did come back.

This time, he was escorted by the trio from before, as well as a new face. The fourth person, who had similar facial features to Haninozuka, but was a bit taller than him, also had a permanent scowl topped with a grown out bowl cut and glasses, and he was nervously eyeing Haninozuka, watching to see what he would order.

Mori was ready to push the register icon for in the hot chocolate part of the order, and jumped ahead to asking “What pastry would you like today, sir?”

Haninozuka, looking resolute, jaw clenched and without the usual gleam in his warm eyes, stated plainly “I’ll take a plain croissant and black coffee today. Thank you.” The bowl cut kid visibly relaxed a little.

Mori felt the pain in his unusually flat voice, but only nodded. “Excellent choice. Is this together or separate?”

Once he finished taking the group order, they paid and left to go sit down at a pair of tables outside on the sidewalk, well away from the previously frequented pond-viewing seat.

Mori turned to the task at hand. He brought out a set of wooden half-trays, one for each order, and selected pastries for each guest while Haruhi got to work on the drinks. Mori used the tongs to pick up the plain croissant and paused. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt so wrong.

He put it back and selected a hazelnut and chocolate ganache filled croissant instead. It looked nearly identical on the outside, especially if you weren’t paying close attention. Only a small seam with chocolate peeking through could be noticed, and even then, that was on the bottom side of the pastry.

He then turned to Haruhi and said, without room for question, “make the black coffee a hot chocolate. And put all the drinks in to-go cups.”

Haruhi smiled, and used a marker to write “black” on the paper cup that would be destined to not, in fact, have any coffee in it whatsoever. She was already thinking similarly, but had been waiting for Mori to declare it officially.

Haruhi helped Mori carry the trays of drinks and pastries out to the sidewalk tables. He carefully placed the correct one in front of Haninozuka and gave a half smile. Haninozuka barely noticed, staring dead ahead, bracing himself for what would be an absolute trial of bitter drink and plain food. She distributed napkins and utensils appropriately. They both chimed “Thank you, please enjoy,” and turned to head back inside.

“Why don’t you wipe down table 3?” prompted Haruhi, who magically produced a clean damp rag and offered it to Mori. Table 3 was inside the shop, but aside from the large pane of clear glass, was right next to the sidewalk tables. The audio was barely muffled. Mori took the cloth and singlemindedly started wiping at a table that was cerftifiably already clean.

Haninozuka tremulously started with the pastry. He nibbled cautiously at one corner. He sighed.

Mori cursed silently. “You have to take a bigger bite to get to the filling!” he thought.

Haninozuka couldn’t bring himself to try a sip of black coffee yet. He went back to the croissant. This time a luscious double whammy of chocolate and hazelnut hit his tongue. His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

Haninozuka Yasuchika, his brother, was taking a bite of his own pastry and found the kouign-amann satisfactorily salty as well as only lightly sweet. He grabbed his latte and brought it to his lips, then paused. He couldn’t help himself. Squinting suspiciously through his glasses, which light glinted off of even though they were all fully sitting in the shade, he prodded verbally “what about your black coffee, Mitsukuni-san?”

Mori kept pushing the cleaning rag over a now polished strip of an already spotless table and watched intently. “Mitsukuni” he thought to himself. “A nice name. And… I feel like I know it?”

Mitsukuni tried to not lament the inevitable ruination of his surprisingly edible, nay delicious, croissant. He reached for his cup and brought it closer. Holding his breath, so as not to overpower his sense of taste, he sipped delicately. Yasuchika grinned.

“Why it is perfectly tasty, brother! As usual, I mean.” Mitsukuni smiled, practically florid.

Yasuchika was caught between doubt and relief. His alien brother had so obviously hated giving up sweet things this past month. How could anyone go from entire cakes to once piece of (albeit very nice) plain bread? And from the most syrupy, whipped cream-bedecked drinks to black coffee? It was an unprecendented transformation. But on the other hand, Yasuchika felt accomplished. He had singlehandedly pressured his older brother to reform his ways. It was for the best, obviously. What sort of dojo is led by someone who would do anything for a chocolate bar? The lack of self control was shameful.

The other three guys were completely oblivious to the intimate details of sugary drama. They had simply thought it would be a good idea to bring their sensei to the only place they had seen him happy in recent memory, as part of a quiet campaign to improve the captain’s mood. Practice had gotten shockingly intense this past week, and, if they were to survive next week they needed their sensei to ease off a touch. Not that they could EVER say so to his face.

Mori checked that Mitsukuni was happily enjoying his hot chocolate and pastry, and that Yasuchika remained none the wiser. Satisfied, he decided the table’s newly worn hole was deep enough and turned back to his work behind the service counter. Haruhi winked and said nothing.

---

It was almost another week before Mitsukuni came back to the patisserie. Mori had been more patient this time. He felt firmly confident that Mitsukuni would find his way back when he was ready.

And his patience was rewarded, in a way.

Mitsukuni staggered in, after dark and only twenty minutes before closing. His eyes were bleary and his countenance groggy and listless. Mitsukuni, usually so sprightly and upright, dragged his bookbag on the ground and pulled up to the duck-watching table. Mori wasn’t sure what to do. Hand the man a hot chocolate as usual? Or… ask how he was doing???

Mori decided to walk over and offer some direct, compassionate human interaction. “Good evening,” he said, simply.

Mitsukuni looked up, with dark circles under his eyes.

He slammed his hand on the table, which startled Mori for but a moment, and said “I wanna shot!”

“...” said Mori.

“Of chocolate syrup, I mean. Like, a couple pumps in an espresso glass.”

Mori left and came back in an inhumanly fast turnaround with exactly that, and offered the teeny glass full of viscous sugary syrup to Mitsukuni, who promptly sucked it down and smacked the glass upside down on the table. “Another!” he garbled.

Mori didn’t remember grabbing the entire syrup bottle, but it was in his hand already. He decided not to think too hard about that and just left the entire thing on the table and walked away, back to cleaning up behind the counter for the night.

Well after the shop closed, with most of the lights off, save for the one over the register, Mori was done closing with one exception. Mitsukuni was finishing the last of the chocolate syrup. He had perked up considerably, and was now waving his arms animatedly, talking fast about his troubles.

“And Chika-chan comes up to me, and says, you know what he says?” Mori did not know. “He says that real men don’t like sweet things! He tells me I won’t be able to get any respect from my men if I keep eating midnight cakes and carrying candies in my pockets!”

Mori assumed Chika-chan must be the grumpy boy in glasses from the other day. He couldn’t say he liked him, particularly. Or, to be more precise, he didn’t like anyone who dared tell Mitsukuni that his respectability was dependent on having “appropriate” and “masculine” interests.

Mitsukuni blurted out a final exclamation of “Chika doesn’t have the balls to talk shit about Usa-chan, though!” and he… passed out.

Mori didn’t know who this Usa-chan was, but he did know that the shop was closed and that Mitsukuni needed to go home. But where was home?

He decided to try something. He looked up the name “Mitsukuni” along with the words “Bunkyo ward” and “dojo.” The search results were conveniently helpful, offering a website that encouraged serious karate students to sign up under the tutelage of Haninozuka Mitskuni.

“Oh. He is really that Haninozuka,” Mori thought to himself. Ages ago, there had been a falling out between their families. Once a close bond through fealty and eventually marriage and bloodline between the Haninozuka and the Morinozuka families, had been broken a couple generations back. The stories we still told, the wounds still fresh. Mori hadn’t even thought about them as “real” since they had become more of a background radiation to his life than a pressing influence. Until today, that is.

He grabbed the leather book bag and slung it over his shoulder, and then picked Mitsukuni up gingerly. Mitsukuni remained unconscious, a few smears of chocolate around his mouth. A legendary sugar crash.

Mori locked up the shop, without even having to put the boy down. He walked towards the Haninozuka family dojo, which was close by.

The lights were on. It was fairly quiet on the grounds. Only once voice was shouting from inside the dojo training hall as they practiced the forms.

Mori called out. “Excuse me. I have your sensei.”

A surprised face poked out. It was Yasuchika. “My… sensei? Oh, you mean my brother, Mitsukuni.” He looked suspiciously at Mori. “Who are you? What did you do to him?”

“I work at the French pastry shop up the street. I didn’t do anything, he was just very very tired.”

Mori purposefully “forgot” to mention his name. And he didn’t want to stick around to find out what Yasuchika really thought of him, especially with their families at odds.

Instead, he gently deposited Mitsukuni’s slumbering form on a training mat and put the book bag down next to him. Mori looked into his calm, round face and committed it to memory. Then he issued a quick departing bow and turned away, leaving the compound. He didn’t look back with his eyes, but a small part of him looked forward with his heart, in a complicated way.

He couldn’t shake that, despite it all, he still wanted to see this Haninozuka back at his patisserie and cafe. He walked home, tired.

[auswriteforyou]

Undeserving. (Ethan Choi, Chicago Med)

It was burned into her brain. Medically speaking, she knew that was impossible. She knew memories were less medical and more mental. Maybe she should schedule an appointment with Dr. Charles. Maybe he could get the memory of her husband having sex with April in an exam room on the 4th floor while she was doing life-saving surgery down the hall out of her head.

She understood the location choice. It was rarely used, the only time they made it up there was when no other bay was available. She had left the room feeling incredible. It was a difficult situation, one that required far too much attention and far too little preparation was given but it had come out with the best possible outcome. She wanted to find Ethan immediately, tell him what she’d accomplished and about the patient she’d grown close to in this process. She didn’t expect to find him in the exam room she heard a crash come from.

She had figured it was just a patient having wondered from their room but no. It was such a nightmare that she had no reaction to it at all. The scramble of them untangling, the sound of scrubs being pulled on and apologies falling on empty ears.

She filed the divorce papers the next day. She put in her transfer request that afternoon. He refused to sign them. Imagine that. He was unfaithful for months, treated her like a stranger for months, literally had sex with her best friend and now he won’t sign the damn paperwork. And here she was, almost a year later of talking only through an attorney from her very expensive law firm in New York because she didn’t even want to hear his voice.

But she was tired of wasting money and her efforts on getting someone as stubborn as him to do anything without getting what he wanted first. She pulled on her big girl pants this morning and decided that today was a good day for a whole lot of baggage. She boarded her plane, she landed, she came straight to the hospital and she was Pissed. The week long vacation she had been planning to Bermuda had been interrupted for this.

“No way.” Will Halstead greeted her at the door, eyes bright and smile shiny. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Do I look that bad?” She smiled, knowing damn well she looked like a four course meal. She’d used this year to become someone she was proud to recognize, to grow the pain and assert herself in ways she never dreamed she would. She was a chairwoman on more boards than she could count. Lead cardiologist in the most sought after position in the most sought after hospital in the world. She knew who she was, she was sure of it.

“Honestly, you’re smoking hot.” He knew how to make a girl feel special. “Do I wanna know why you’re here? You looked like you were about to walk through the walls.”

She held up the file folder, a grimace on her face and he didn’t need any more context clues. They’d all heard the stories, how the papers got served to him in the middle of a surgery and the refusal to sign or send them back on his part. It was annoying honestly.

“Help a girl out, where might I find him?”

“Surgery Room 1.” Oh, good. He wouldn’t be able to run away.

The gallery was almost full, apparently a good surgery in their books. Thankfully, she’d timed it just right that they were beginning to close. She greeted her old coworkers, offering quick hellos and we’ll catch ups because she was always a business first kind of lady.

Ethan stepped more into view and that flutter she remembered from the first time they met flew into her chest. Had he managed to get more attractive? Her finger pressed the intercom. She cleared her throat.

“Ethan, if you don’t sign these papers you’re going to be the one who needs to be sewn up.” His head snapped at the speed of light to her in the gallery. She could tell it took him a minute to recognize her, or to make sure she was actually there. Could have been a mixture of both.

“Darling?” She rolled her eyes, waving the papers at him.

“Meet me at my car when you’re done. Bring a pen.”

He did not, in fact, bring a pen. He barely found her because he wasn’t expecting the Lamborghini rental car. He climbed into the passenger seat, eyes  never leaving her face. It was kind of creepy.

“How have you been?” She snorted.

“A year of putting me through the political ringer and that’s what you start with?” She tossed the papers in his lap, trying not to let him see the hurt she still had lingering in her eyes. “Sign these. Please.”

“Talk to me.” He was quick to rebuttal. “Please. Let’s just have one conversation. I’ve spoken to no one but your lawyer for months.”

“Exactly Ethan,” He cringed at the lack of nickname, “I didn’t think I had to spell it out how much I didn’t want to talk with you.”

“Please.” He knew he had no right to ask her for anything but she was here on a mission. She wasn’t leaving without a resolution. “How have you been?”

“I’m head of Cardiology in New York, I have a dog, I bought a new car and recently found out I am allergic to fish. How’s April?” That was a low blow. She knew it, he knew it but she traveled far too many miles to not get her little jabs in.

“She moved away, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since that day.” At least he was honest. She used to pride herself on being able to tell when he was lying but after all that, she didn’t know what she knew.

“Awesome, glad to know it was all for nothing. Now that we’re all caught up, sign them.”

“No.”

“Ethan, the next option is to have it annulled by the court in which they give me half of everything you have.”

“You were the only thing I had that ever mattered.” She felt her mouth drop open, felt like he had slapped her in the face.

“You’re kidding right? That’s how you treat the most important thing in your life then? I’d hate to be the things you hate. Honestly, fuck that.”

“I fucked up, I take full responsibility. I won’t gaslight, I won’t say you did anything wrong because you didn’t. I was weak, I was the one who sought out something new because I was afraid of my own insecurities as a man, as a husband. I thought I would never be good enough for you and I set out to prove it. It’s not that you made me feel that way or made me feel like I should be more, I just convinced myself I wasn’t.”

It was silent for a long moment, the damage between them beginning to sew itself back up because, for once, he was opening up to her.

“I fought tooth and nail for us, from dating to engagement to marriage. I fought for you when your brain fought against you. I fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. And at the first sign of me healing myself, of me choosing myself for once, you ran off with my best friend because you both felt insecure about things out of anyone’s control.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s the worst part. It’s the worst part because I took all the respect, all the trust, love, compassion you gave me and stomped on it. I treated you with such disregard and disrespect that it makes me sick and darling,” She looked at him for the first time since they decided to open up, “I am truly sorry.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the anger from earlier finding a lighter lull in her chest as she searched for any sign of a lie. She’d reinvented herself, made herself stronger through becoming who she had always wanted to be. He had reinvented himself by realizing where his mistakes were and how to better himself to be who he wanted, needed to be. She wondered for a moment if he was coming to the same realization as her. They weren’t the same people they had been. They had grown, sprouted leaves and vines and built themselves up from the roots.

“I forgive you.” Out of all the things to come out of her mouth, neither of them expected that.

“What does that mean?” His voice was almost a whisper, his fingers that had saved many lives toying with the edges of the file folder.

“It means we talk,” She took the folder from him, tossing it into the backseat without care. “And we figure out what this means, we don’t lie to each other and we try. Both of us this time. I can’t float this relationship, whatever it is or is not, we have to be on the same page.”

He looked at her like she’d put the stars in the sky, sewn him up with the tidal waves and took them to the moon. She wondered if he’d keep looking at her like that. It didn’t scare her to think that he would. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t jump into each others arms and scream at the top of their lungs about love and happiness. They let their pinkies brush over the console, their hearts and minds race at the thought of whats to be built and allowed themselves to begin to grow, with each other.

--

it’s been a hot minute but my fingers started tapping and that was that! This was a request from an Anon that I was happy to fill. I hope you enjoy, I apologize for the wait. It’s also been a LOOOOOOng time since watching the show, I don’t have any plot lines. I don’t even know who is still on it, hopefully I was vague enough to not deviate too far off script. (also I didn’t get to proofread this, I'm sorry). Thank you for requesting and happy new year!

[fallinnflower]

pretty baby

jeonghan x reader (established relationship, non-idol!au)

a/n: this fic is a part of the intimacy anthology project. 

warnings: mentions of insecurity, jealousy, petty coworkers with snide remarks, and implied mature content

Being with someone like Yoon Jeonghan wasn't easy. His ethereally good looks could make it impossible to feel like you were up to his standards — or, rather, the standards imposed upon you by being with someone as beautiful as him. Pretty people were supposed to be with other pretty people, right? 

Although nobody ever said anything explicitly, there were always the subtle jabs, the little comments meant to stick like thorns in your side — things you tried to ignore but piled up over time. Airing out your dirty laundry was never your strong suit, and so you just pushed it all further into a darkened corner, hoping one day it would just disappear. 

Of course, things don't just vanish into thin air, not even emotions. In fact, if anything, they halve like cells and reproduce, over and over and over until the mole hill is a mountain you can't even attempt to move. 

Usually, you can convince yourself things are fine, you can get over your insecurities and issues on your own. 

And then, there are the days where everything just feels, well, yucky. When no amount of your favorite things can keep a smile on your face, and faking one feels like far too much work. Those days that creep up on you and bury you under their weight. 

It's the end of a week that's felt incredibly long, with seemingly unending gray skies and a workload that just keeps piling up so that it feels like it won't ever get done. 

The day started with the zipper on your favorite pair of jeans busting, leaving you scrambling to get ready in time for work. Throughout the day you feel sluggish and yet hyper-aware of every little flaw about you — the frizz of your hair, the discoloration on your face, everything. And you can't shake the feeling that other people are noticing it, too, picking you apart behind your back. 

Your worst fears come to life around lunchtime, when one of your coworkers rolls her desk chair over to your side. 

“Y/N, who’s this guy on your Instagram? He’s stunning.” Her motive is instantly clear to you, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you force yourself to smile politely at her.

“Ah, that’s my boyfriend, Jeonghan.” You swear you see anger flash in her eyes for a second before she goes back to looking at your post. She surveys the photos you’d posted of Jeonghan on your date this past weekend with a mixture of jealousy and clear admiration for your boyfriend’s good looks. On a good day, you might feel yourself swelling with pride at someone noticing his ethereally good looks — hell, you’d probably be boasting — but today her words only make you feel smaller. 

A couple of your coworkers, returning from the break room with their lunches and fresh coffees in hand, stop by your desk to see what the fuss is about, peering over the shoulders of your coworker in her rolling chair. Even though it’s your desk, you somehow feel like an intruder as your three officemates gather in your space. One of them lifts their gaze from the phone, eyes slightly narrowed and gaze sharp as they very obviously give you a once-over. You feel as though you’re frozen solid beneath their gaze, your grip on the pen in your hand tightening like your throat. The third coworker doesn’t even bother to look up at you,

“Wow, I had no idea your boyfriend was so attractive, Y/N. How’d you get so lucky, hm?” The one with the sharp gaze cocks their head to the side, leaning their weight back onto one foot, hip jutting out sharply into your space.

“Yeah, Y/N, how did you get so lucky?” 

You can feel your face heating up, and wonder if you’ve misheard them — did they mean to put the emphasis on you? You lick your lips nervously and let out a laugh, smoothing down your hair self-consciously. Suddenly, you can’t bear to look at them anymore, and so you shrug and turn back to your paperwork.

“I’m not sure,” you say, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I suppose it’s just that — luck.” You’re aware of the three pairs of eyes on you, but you don’t dare look up, even as you hear one of them huff slightly in annoyance at your answer.

“Maybe you should share some of that luck with the rest of us, then,” someone laughs, and you feel the sharpness in each of their words. On any other day, you’d probably just square your shoulders and joke right back — you’re accustomed to the petty games some of your coworkers enjoy playing, having worked here long enough — but today you feel as though your skin is no thicker than a rubber balloon, and their barbed words have you deflating rapidly.

“Maybe,” you reply, far too quietly. You don’t bother looking up at them, forcing yourself to keep filling in the blanks on your paperwork, trying to keep the shaking of your hand from being noticeable. Eventually, probably tired of your meek responses, the trio finally leaves; as you hear the chair finally rolling away, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Your phone lights up with a reminder that you should take your lunch break, and with it comes Jeonghan’s smiling face on your lockscreen. His hair slightly ruffled by the wind, his eyes curved into happy half moons as he holds his coffee in one hand and your own hand in the other, looking back at you as you walked down the path framed with cherry blossoms. His hair had been blond then, and the pinks and whites behind him made him seem all the more ethereal. 

You stare at the screen until the notification disappears, plunging the image into blackness, and bite down hard onto your bottom lip. Your words from earlier echo in your ears, leaving your heart feeling heavier by the second.

I suppose it’s just that — luck. 

After all, why else would someone as beautiful as Jeonghan want to be with someone as plain and difficult as you?

You can’t find another reason, much less so when you spend far too long standing in front of the sink rubbing the soap on your hands as you stare into your own face in the mirror. You don’t think you’ve ever hated the thought of being lucky more in your life.

By the time you drag yourself home, you're quite aware that you've had far better days. You feel miserable, your head stuck up in those rain clouds overhead, trudging up the stairs and into your apartment. 

You're so caught up in your own downward spiral that you hardly notice the second pair of shoes by the door, only fully realizing Jeonghan is home when you hear the sound of sizzling from the kitchen. 

"Baby?" Jeonghan calls, his delicate voice carrying over the sound of his cooking straight to you. You feel like your tongue is lead in your mouth as you hang your raincoat on the coat rack by the door,

"Hey."

There must be something in the tone of your voice, despite how hard you try to hide it, that alerts Jeonghan to a change in your mood, because you find him peering out of the kitchen to catch the first sight of you he can. His brows are puckered in concern, and somehow seeing him — hair out of place, standing in a hot kitchen and still looking impeccable — makes you feel like you're going to cry. You tighten your jaw, trying to will the tears to go back where they came from, but before you can Jeonghan has turned off the burner. 

"What's wrong?" He walks out of the kitchen to meet you in the hallway, wrapping you tenderly in his embrace; softly, as though you're delicate, breakable. You wonder if that's how you look to him now. 

You shake your head, looking down. 

"Nothing," you say, snaking your arms up around his shoulders. For a moment, you allow yourself to melt into his arms, but it only causes your chest to tighten further. As you feel the tears building you pull away from Jeonghan, letting out a watery chuckle. 

"Just— work, you know?" Jeonghan lets you step away, but not far from him. His hands continue to seek you out, one ghosting across your forehead and down the side of your face to brush any stray hairs away that may be hiding your expression from him. It isn’t fully a lie, but you know that he can read you like a book, and lying while looking into his eyes is a skill you don’t think you’ll e

"Are you sure?" The softness of his tone makes the tears well up in your eyes, and Jeonghan puts an arm around your waist. He leads you to the couch, sitting you down  and grabbing the box of tissues from the coffee table just in time for the waterworks. 

To his credit, he does just let you cry it out for a bit, which you hadn't quite realized you needed so badly. He opens his arms to you, offering you his shoulder to quite literally cry on until you finally feel capable of talking. 

"What's been going on outside of work?" He asks delicately, rubbing comforting circles into your back. You avert your gaze with a sniffle, thinking on the knot of emotions currently residing in your stomach. It suddenly feels impossible to even get to the root of it all, but you clear your throaty and try. 

"I just feel down." He hums in response, his hand still on your back. 

"What about?"

There's a long pause during which you try to think of how to say what exactly is at the core of what's wrong. In the end, all you can manage is a feeble,

"Myself."

Jeonghan seems almost equally as upset as you, but far more confused than he was when you first came home. 

"Why do you feel bad about yourself? Did someone say something? Was it someone at work?" You shake your head rapidly, but it only takes Jeonghan giving you a particularly searching look to finally get you to spit out what's really on your mind. You sigh,

“I mean, not directly, but… they saw my latest Instagram post and they were asking all these questions about you, and us…” He tilts his head to the side, brows puckered in confusion.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“God, Jeonghan— it's because you're pretty, okay? More than pretty, honestly, I can't believe a person can look like you, and— and you're with me, of all people, and sometimes I just don’t know why— a-and it's just been a terrible week”— You force yourself to take a deep breath, blinking rapidly to try and force the tears away. Jeonghan gently reaches for you, pushing your hair away from your face and tipping your chin up to look into your eyes. 

"Ah," Jeonghan says, sighs, and you feel the pain in his eyes when they meet yours, as he realizes you're being honest. 

"What do I say to make this better...? I love you so much." As he gently murmurs his own thoughts aloud, he swipes the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes, catching the tears preemptively. Eventually, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, causing your eyes to flutter shut. 

"My pretty baby," he says. "The prettiest in the world. Do you know what I love about you?"

You shake your head, feeling physically incapable of speaking. Jeonghan only smiles, bringing one of your hands up to his lips. 

"I love your hands"— kiss.

"And your arms, your shoulders, your neck," he says, pressing a kiss to each part of your body he mentions, ghosting his lips against your skin. You can't help but giggle when he kisses a slightly ticklish spot on your cheek, and Jeonghan immediately breaks out into a broad grin. 

"I love your smile, and your nose — I love your whole face"— before you can react Jeonghan has taken your face in his hands and begun peppering your skin with kisses, leaving you feeling flushed and giddy. He presses one final, lingering kiss to your lips before surveying you with heavy-lidded eyes. 

"Should I continue?" Jeonghan asks, and you let out another laugh as you shake your head. 

"No, no, I feel much better now."

"Mm, good," he says, smoothing down your hair with a smile. "Now how about I run a nice hot bath for you, and once we've worked up an appetite I can finish dinner, hm?" You feel your face warming up again at the mischievous glimmer in his eye, and you gently push at his shoulder. 

"Aish, don't be dirty," you scold, and he gives you his most innocent look. 

"Dirty? What are you implying, Y/N? I just said I'd make dinner once we got hungry." 

"Just go run my bath!" You look away, pushing at Jeonghan to try and get him off the couch as he laughs at your antics. 

"There's my baby," he says, pinching your cheeks gently as he stands up. Once he has your attention his grip slackens, leaving him merely cradling your face in his hands as he gazes at you fondly. He leans in and presses one last kiss to your lips, sweet and slow and heart-warming in the best of ways. You can't help but smile, giddy with his love when he pulls away. He lets out a contented sigh at the brightness of your expression and gently taps his finger against the tip of your nose,

"My pretty, pretty baby, who’s the prettiest when they’re happy. How did I get so lucky?" 

And as he says the words you really, truly feel just as he describes.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Scheming (with Sandwiches) (5/3/2021)

Alastor talks to Valera @autokrates about her visit from Ruler Of Hell King Alastor @akillingspreeinwhite—and more importantly, what to do about him if he decides he wants to start conquering other Hells.

Alastor's plan: an alliance between as many potentially threatened dimensions as possible.

Alastor

Lunch time! Hello Valera guess who it is, it's Alastor. "I hope you don't mind, I thought it might be nice to have lunch together today! Sandwich?" The sandwich is an innocent gift of friendship with no ulterior motives! And also it's a bribe.

Valera

Lunch time! A great time, usually. A chance to gossip with coworkers AND eat. And look who's here, it's Alastor, with a very innocent sandwich! "Mind? Not at all, by all means my dear, it's a pleasure."

She does TRY to take a bite from the sandwich, but before she can even sink her teeth into it her whole face twists and she has to put it aside to flop her head down and groan. Don't mind her clutching her stomach, this is normal. "Eelizzy is *rioting* back home, oh my *gods*. Feels like I swallowed a radio full of hornets."

Alastor

"Oh, don't you hate that? When you're trying to pick up a station on the radio and there's so much interference all you hear is *buzzing*?" He's proud of himself for that joke. He shouldn't be. "Try this, see if it calms her down any." He sends over a song. <https://youtu.be/2t4iBbfwBLw>

Valera

She'd glare at him for that joke, but she's too busy making her poor floppy at-home body cooperate long enough to open a link. "Louisiana Lullaby? Well by name alone it promises results. She loved New Orleans."

A minute passes, and she slowly sits upright. The sandwich is cautiously picked up, and she nibbles at the crust as she raises both eyebrows at Alastor. She can guess what he really wants to know. "Incredible, even from a distance you're better at wrangling a kid than your more... *royal* alternate." That's an opening if she's ever given one, here you go Alastor.

Alastor

His smile widens. The exact topic he wanted to talk about! "I take it his visit was rather... stomach-turning?"

Valera

She glances around, making sure they're far enough away from any coworkers, then leans in with gossiping intent. "Putting it *mildly*. He's very tall, he's very self assured, and he's got the worst vibes I've ever felt roll off of a man. Like dunking my face in used cooking oil. And get this. The second he stepped into my house, Eelizzy started thrashing like a harpooned whale. She's never reacted so violently to *anything*."

Alastor

A slow nod. "That's never a good sign. I trust the judgment of the as yet unborn, they tend to be less prejudiced. And I take it you don't think it was a mere reaction to his power level?"

Valera

Her head cocks to the right, nose scrunching in thought. "He gave me one of Lucifer's flight feathers, so I assume she felt some of that power too. But I put the thing away and she still spent the entire visit either flailing or spitting static at him every time he got too close."

The hand not holding the sandwich brushes her barbels back, rubbing her forehead. "I suppose it's possible that his energy was simply so foreign she reacted strongly, but I live with *Leal*. She's been around for everything from eldritch magic to his full demonic form and barely even stirred. When she met Alexa? Happily buzzing at him barely a minute in. You saw how well she took to you, too. She's met dragons, gods, demons, sinners, and not a single one had her that pissed. Even Seapup was growling at him and Seapup loves *everyone*."

Alastor

"If she doesn't even react to *gods* like that, I'm going to assume it's the quality rather than the quantity." He sighs. "Well, *that's* telling, isn't it! I'm not sure *what* it's telling us yet—but I don't think I'm going to like the answer, do you?"

Valera

She snorts. "No. No I do *not*. He got to my planet unaided, Alastor. Got into my house without me giving any sort of direction. He knew the planet's name before I ever told him. And I want to chalk that up to just him reading my blog, but... I know he's followed me and Leal around without either of us being able to sense him."

Alastor

Alastor nods. "He mentioned that to me too, your 'being followed' adventure. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the king's done it more than once. Or, considering how strong he has to be to have seized the throne, he might have additional methods of sussing out information. All of which are probably bad news."

Valera

This poor sandwich is never going to get eaten at this rate, there she goes putting it down again. "No kidding. He's been the pinnacle of manners and social grace for now, but.." A shrug, and she offers Alastor a wan smile. "I don't trust that to last. He's an outlier to the already unpredictable Alastor model."

Alastor

"No, I don't trust it either." His voice lowers—not his usual trick of changing his tone of voice to pretend he's being quieter, but an actual lowering of volume. "Here's the thing. I don't trust a single one of my alternates that's joined in the overlord rat race—much less has made king. A propensity toward boredom like mine should *never* be married to earnest political ambitions. When he gets bored, he's going to do what he's always done: conquer. And if there's no more room for him to move *upward,* he'll start moving *outward.* And wouldn't you know it, he's *just* found the multiverse."

Valera

"Exactly." She exhales almost too forcefully for it to be a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. What a headache this was turning out to be. "I *really* don't want to test my mettle against even a normal Alastor alt, the idea of *that* man being able to show up in my house on a whim and start trying to play at the All American Dream of Conquering the Alien Menace is... Not good." An absent minded rubbing of her stomach, self soothing and comforting an egg that was universes away. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I am, on some level, absolutely terrified."

Alastor

"You're not alone," Alastor admits. "Not to downplay your very realistic 'heroic human conquering the savage alien world' fears, but if human history has proven anything, it's that we tend to try conquering our neighbors first and only travel farther after we either succeed or decide it's more trouble than it's worth. And neighbors don't get much closer than a parallel copy of the same place."

Valera

"Oh dear." Grimacing, she lifts a hand like she's about to offer comfort, letting it hover for a moment before slowly putting it back down. No, don't do for the shoulder pat just yet. "I don't like that one bit, Alastor. But for what it's worth, if it came down to it, I'd try to help you."

Alastor

"That is *exactly* what I wanted to discuss." Alastor's eyes glow brighter. "Now, any version of me that's conquered Hell is going to be stronger than any version of me that hasn't, that's practically a given. He could beat any *one* of us hands down. I haven't seen *you* at full power, but frankly that's a boxing match I wouldn't want to bet money on for either side. But—*but*—if enough of us have agreed we'll fight him if he stepped out of line... The more of us agree to fight in defense of each other's dimensions, the better a chance we'll collectively stand. Leclerq and I have already agreed to offer each other mutual support. With three of us, we might have the start of a proper defense."

Valera

She folds her hands, listening as Alastor lays out his plan. Strength in numbers, it was an effective strategy. She could think of a few others who would gladly throw their hats in the ring in the name of keeping the line as well, Alastor or otherwise. "Alright. I'll add myself to that list, and pray we never need it."

Alastor

He laughs wryly. "And I'll be praying for backup in case we *do* need it. Apparently upstairs doesn't care about who's calling the shots in Hell, if they didn't intervene before my alternate could take the crown; but maybe they'll start to care if multiple Hells start uniting in one empire."

Valera

She snorts despite herself, shaking her head. "I hope so! Wouldn't that be something, heaven and hell uniting forces against one common enemy! I just hope we never have to see it."

Alastor

"So do I." He takes a deep breath. "So! Anything else of interest to report from his little visit? You mentioned *you* didn't like his... 'vibes'?"

Valera

"Oh! Yeah. Holy shit." A WELCOME subject change. "He's freaky. And I don't like that I know even one of his kinks. I want to know zero of them." She shrugs and picks her sandwich back up. At last, something she can eat while discussing. "As far as his visit though. He gave me one of Lucifer's flight feathers. Which I _immediately_ handed off to mon cerf."

Alastor

"He certainly has poor taste in kinks." He says this like his ace ass is some sort of elitist kink connoisseur. Like a wine snob judging a broke-ass college kid for drinking box wine. "But is that the *only* sense you meant he's freaky in, or...? Granted, handing an acquaintance a souvenir harvested from the body of one's vanquished nemesis is a hell of an opening statement all by itself, but."

Valera

"I wish." Look at that face scrunch. It won't keep her from taking a bite out of her sandwich, but still. "No, I mean his very presence was like trying to breathe oil. He's.." She frowns, brow furrowing as she tries to think of a less melodramatic way to put it. "He's nice, but in the way people are nice to a pet."

Alastor

A huff. "I got a little bit of that impression from talking to him. Granted, Radio Demons are a naturally condescending lot, but even at that..." He searches for the right words. "He strikes me as the kind of person incapable of seeing anyone as his equal. Even his own alternates."

Valera

She nods. "Yes, I think you're right. We're entertainment more than we are people. Perhaps _especially_ his alternates, come to think of it.." Judging by the way he'd treated his alts on dash..

Alastor

"Could be worse—could be outright loathing—but I'm wary around any alternate who can't even see *himself* as a kindred spirit. I'm hoping I can take advantage of it, though. I've got an open invitation to visit his dimension sometime to provide entertainment—a few Hamilton songs from me in exchange for a tour. I plan on scouting the place out then."

Valera

"Oh yeah! You do, don't you! You should try and see what happened to the other overlords in his Hell. Assuming he didn't kill them as soon as they manifested, I've wondered whats become of them."

Alastor

"So have I. I have to think overlords still exist—what does it matter to a king if the peasants claim ownership of a block or two?—but whether any of them are the same overlords *we* know..." He grimaces. "He said he took power in the fifties, didn't he? If we're assuming a worst case scenario where he executed all the overlords who currently existed, that includes Sir Pentious and Rosie. Maybe Rosie was minor enough to be spared, if anyone was spared at all; but someone else with ambitions for the throne..."

Valera

She scowls, shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth to keep from saying anything before she can think it over. He was right, and the thought was.. Deeply uncomfortable. A hard swallow, and she starts brushing the crumbs off her chest. "We're set to have lunch together tomorrow, *out* of my house." She doesn't sound especially *happy* about the arrangement, but oh well. "If I learn anything new, I'll let you know. Between the two of us, we should hopefully be able to get a feel for what situation we're dealing with. Odds are his Pentious was exterminated."

A blink, and she squints. "Actually, he said something to Theodore today. His Hell has had some *significant* technological advancements since he took the throne, he was very proud of that fact. All radio based, obviously, but he doesn't strike me as an inventor."

Alastor

"*Our* Hell's had significant technological advancements since the fifties, too," Alastor pointed out. "He could be collecting newly-dead inventors and pressing them to turn their expertise toward radio-based applications. Or, hell—it could simply be that having V#x out of the way means the technological developments in Hell naturally drifted a different way."

He gives Valera a tired, wan smile. "I'd *like* to imagine that Sir Pentious is happily toiling away as the royal inventor, but I don't want to get my hopes up. I don't think the majority would be happy with that."

Valera

"Mm, I'm being too optimistic. And he would hate it, so maybe it's for the better that he's probably been exterminated." She sighs. "I don't know if we manage to find trouble, Alastor, or trouble manages to find us. Either way, what a pain. Any other questions before we drag ourselves back to the dreadful chore of watching Hamilton get shot on stage over and over?"

Alastor

"Just one." He nods toward the stage. "Do you think it's been long enough since the last time I got in trouble that I can start singing 'he's never gon' be president now' when the bullet connects?"

Valera

Now that is a very serious question that must be considered.... Hrm... "Yes, but barely. I think the director would throw his clipboard at you, but not much beyond that. He's on his sixth coffee of the day, so the odds of dodging are in your favor."

Alastor

"Maybe he'll forgive me out of pity if I let it connect." He stands, picks up his own sandwich—yeah, he's had a sandwich this whole time—and devours it in five huge bites. "Shall we?"

Valera

For some reason, she's tempted to clap at that display. But no time for more banter, it's back to work. "We shall."

Alastor

Back to work. Time to watch Hamilton get shot again.

Valera

~~Boooooo give us a twist ending next time, add some leopards eating people's faces~~

Alastor

~~Hamilton is the leopard and he tries to eat Alastor's face for singing in the middle of his dramatic death~~

[jennifersylvesters]

the phases - ( two ) when he was there

Word Count: ~1.1k Warnings: none? Pairing: office worker!tom holland x office worker!reader Notes: another day, another part. feedback is always appreciated. enjoy!

“Oh my God. You like him.” 

No! No. Absolutely not. 

Your friend’s accusation threw you off guard. The way that smile slyly crept up made you realize your next moves were crucial. It would somehow tell her everything while simultaneously revealing nothing. Because truth be told, there was nothing to be said on the matter. 

Yet you knew how this would go: Fumbling your words meant you were embarrassed to be caught. Face flushing? Oh, you were head over heels for the man. It was imperative you played it cool. 

Naturally you stammered out, “G-God no. I’m not into him.” 

Her smile widened. Crap. 

“I’m not! I swear I’m not into him.”

Except why had you been speaking about him nonstop for the last fifteen minutes? Why did you feel compelled to recount silly moments between you and Tom? Why couldn’t you stop grinning at the mere mention of his name?

So maybe you enjoyed your coworker’s presence more than initially presumed. His first impression, in the politest sense, had been dismal. 

On his first day Tom strutted into the office - not walked, strutted! - as he merely threw a head nod your way before entering the boss’s office. You shared a wary expression with Caitlyn from accounting as other coworkers tried to sneak glances of the newest addition. 

News around the water cooler was that he previously interned at corporate. Apparently his “fantastic” work warranted an immediate job offer. Said job offer meant he would grace your work space in all his competent glory. 

Everyone raved about his talent, but you remained skeptical from that entrance. 

His first words only heightened your reservations. 

“Knock knock.” You startled slightly, pulling away from your work, when your boss rapped his knuckles on the edge of your wooden desk. “Got a new neighbor for you” he cheerfully announced as your vision flitted from him to the new hire. 

Scanning his meticulously put together outfit, you internally grimaced. Perhaps it was the slicked back hair coupled with the “so-over-this” expression, but Tom gave the distinct impression of being a frat bro who coasted through his undoubtedly plush life. He’d most likely sail through this position until he found a better job. Better yet, he’d quit when he decided to hell with working and simply dip into his trust fund. Can’t relate.

Perhaps the judgement was a tad harsh, but you trusted that gut feeling. Nothing good would come from this man. You prided yourself on your ability to read others, and this guy was an open book. People rarely surprised you, and you highly doubted frat bro over here would change your mind. 

Tom gave another head nod as your boss gushed about the incredible potential being brought to the company. God, what was with this guy and head nods? He gave the impression of being a bobble head. Look at Tom go - nodding and bobbing without any control.

Then he uttered a single word that would have you internally cringing. “‘Sup?”

Sup? What grown man says “sup”? 

Controlling your expression, you smiled tightly before politely introducing yourself. 

“I can’t wait for you two to be pals.” Your boss clapped the back of Tom’s chair as he walked away. Yeah, not happening. You had no interest in being friends with Tom.  

Strange how a single moment could change your perspective. How were you to know that in a single instant you would soften to Tom? You couldn’t have really. 

How peculiar you had been so resolute in hating the man and now you enjoyed his company. You loved his desk being across from yours. The two of you traded post-it notes so frequently that Debra from accounting reprimanded both of you for “wasting company resources”. Supply police, much? Not that you two cared. 

Every Monday morning he brought you a cup of coffee just the way you liked. Every Wednesday you returned the favor by purchasing him his favorite candy bar from the vending machine. When had these simple acts become routines? It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment Tom became your favorite coworker. 

Of course none of this implied you liked him as more than a coworker. It didn’t mean you were harboring any romantic feelings. 

It simply meant you enjoyed sharing those moments. Didn’t everyone deserve to hear how Tom accidentally kicked himself in the face at age eight? Surely others would find it amusing to hear about him and his brothers’ treehouse adventures. Didn’t everyone like to laugh at the absurdly awful dad jokes he made? Or was it just you?

“So you don’t like him?” your friend questioned. It was useless arguing with someone whose mind was already made up. But was yours already resolved? 

“I-” you paused, now considering your choice of words. “He’s Tom.” Perhaps nothing could quite encapsulate your feelings towards him. He was simply Tom, and somehow that was enough. It was enough to share jokes and confide in glances. Enough to take delight in his company and sulk whenever he was away. Enough to marvel at his mere presence.

But would that ever truly be enough?

Deep down you wanted a relationship. You craved a certain softness that came from being loved and sharing such a delicate intimacy with someone. You couldn’t settle for just anyone anymore. As much as you denied the notion out loud, you wanted Tom wholeheartedly. 

You couldn’t imagine anyone else treating you as kindly and tenderly as he could. And how you imagined. You imagined intertwining your fingers with his to clasp hands. You imagined gently kissing his knuckles and letting him lean on your shoulder. You imagined spontaneous dates that cost only your company because that was enough for him. It would be enough for you. 

Allowing your imagination to run rampant wouldn’t resolve the situation at hand. There was no guarantee he felt the same way. For all you knew, confessing would jeopardize the whole relationship. He wasn’t one for reveling in others’ embarrassment, but you couldn’t live with the humiliation. 

“Would it really be so wrong to admit you like him?”

Yes. No. You weren’t sure. 

Saying the words out loud would mean something. They would force you to acknowledge your feelings for the man. That in itself was overwhelming. Of course you knew it didn’t mean things would escalate further. You could simply acknowledge the crush and move forward. 

But didn’t you want to take a chance? Wouldn’t it be worth it for potential happiness with him? Better yet, was he worth it? Was he worth the moment of bravery? Was Tom Holland really worth putting your emotions on the line? 

“I don’t know” you finally muttered. 

tags list: @saintlavrents​ | @hypnotized-so-mesmerized​, @sleepybesson​, @sophiatomlinson23​, @supernatural-girl97​, @tomhaz​

[sierrabinondo]

2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could. 

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration. 

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid. 

then... the following week came. 

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of. 

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah. 

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.” 

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.  

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic. 

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried. 

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal. 

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.  

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs. 

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH.  i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am 

-watching so. much. anime. 

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals 

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green 

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

[jos-corner-of-the-world]

The Wedding Date

"You're really going to do this?" Your friend asked from beside you.

"It's a little late to back out now!" You told her. "He'll be here any minute."

"Isn't this how people get murdered? Posting ads online and people respond."

"Statistically it's the one who posted the ad that's the killer."

"Of course you know the statistics on something like that." 

"Remy, I needed to do this okay. He invited me to his wedding because he wants to see me miserable and alone. I can't let him win." You told her honestly.

"He's winning by you showing up. You should ignore the whole thing and binge watch Netflix with me tonight. What if your fake boyfriend is ugly?" Remy asked you.

"I purposefully didn't ask for a picture of his face. He was really funny over text and that's good enough for me. Someone who can keep up with my humor is more than enough."

"True. That's what was fundamentally wrong with Jon. He was so serious and had no sense of humor."

The girls were interrupted by a knock at their door.

"Can you answer it and I'll be out in a minute?" You asked her seriously, nerves getting the best of you.

"Fine but if I feel any serial killer vibes, I'm sending him away."

~~~

You were thankfully alone for long enough to finish getting ready.

You'd just finished the last touch ups on your hair when your bedroom door burst open.

Remy stood in the doorway looking frantic and awe struck.

"What the hell has gotten in to you?" You asked.

"Um, your fake boyfriend is total real boyfriend material. He's gorgeous, polite, and his smile is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"So he's not giving off killer vibes?" You asked, laughing at her.

"You're missing the point!" Remy yelled at you.

"You're missing the point! This is a one time thing. He's here so I can pretend not to be a loser in front of the person who made me this way!"

"Babe, you're not a loser. Jon is a stuck up prick who takes life way too seriously. No one can blame you that you weren't ready to settle down and be a trophy wife. You're free spirited, not a loser." Remy said as she came to stand next to you.

"That was one of your better pep talks." You laughed, pulling her into a hug.

"Alright, well let's go meet your boyfriend."

~~~

Awestruck indeed.

The man, Hongjoong, was a few inches taller than you. He wore an all white suit and his hair was dark and pushed back from his face.  He had a few piercings in his ears and was holding a small bouquet of flowers.

When your eyes met his, a wide smile broke out on his face and you were momentarily stuck in place.

Remy was right, his smile was amazing.

"You must be Y/N." He said, walking towards you.

"I am." You said, rooted in your spot.

"You look absolutely beautiful." He said. He handed you the flowers and leaned in slowly to kiss you on the cheek.

You felt your face get warmer as you blushed, but still leaned into him anyway.

"Alright. Well you two should head out so you're not late. See you later." Remy said as she all but pushed you out of the door.

Oh my God she mouthed to you as you turned to shut the door. She gave you a thumbs up before disappearing behind the door.

~~~

The car ride started off quiet but comfortable.

Hongjoong played quiet instrumental music in the background that helped calm your nerves.

"So...is there anything I should know for today?" He asked you after a moment.

"What do you mean?" You turned to him.

"Any nicknames you hate, any details about the ex we haven't covered? Anything that will help us not get caught today."

"Oh....um. Well... Jon used to call me Cookie. I hated that, don't know why but I did. My ex is... pretentious at best. Is very serious, doesn't joke well, and hates physical contact. So just a heads up, I may be real touchy with you. That's what I miss the most, affection. And I swore I'd meet someone who loved showing affection as well as receiving it." You felt instantly embarrassed as you were speaking about affection.

"I think affection is an integral part of relationships for me as well." He said confidently, pulling your hand into his as he rested it on the center console.

You immediately felt the butterflies in your stomach at the contact. It was something so small, but it had made an impact.

"Also" he started, before looking over at you "you do look incredible tonight. It will be harder for me to keep my hands to myself than to show you affection." He told you honestly.

"Fucking hell." You muttered to yourself.

"What was that?" He asked, smirking at you.

"Oh nothing. It's just kind of weird to me, that's all."

"What's weird?" He asked, worrying he'd been too forward

"You...you don't feel like a stranger. I know we've just met today, but we've talked quite a bit before this. I feel like I know parts of you and you know parts of me. Also...you're gorgeous and that may be a problem." You admitted.

"A problem? How is that?"

"I might jump you before dinner is even served."

Hongjoong coughed loudly, surprised by your statement.

"Sorry, just...being honest."

~~~

"Why does your ex look like that?" Hongjoong asked you as you walked past the engagement pictures on the way in to the venue.

"Like I said, he's serious."

"Yeah, but he looks like he's just had an unsuccessful discussion for a peace treaty, not taking pictures with his wife." Hongjoong whispered to you.

You had to put your hand over your mouth to stiffle your laughter.

True to his word, hongjoong had been quite touchy in the last few minutes. He'd helped you out of the car and held your hand as you walked. When he opened the door to the venue, he ushered you in with a hand on the small of your back, which he kept there as you walked.

Throughout the ceremony, his hand either held your or was resting lightly on your leg. You kept stealing glances at him, noticing he was watching you a lot too. You'd both just smile at each other before turning your attention to the front.

Once the ceremony was over, you'd gone to the banquet hall on the other side of the venue.

You found your assigned seats, scoffing when you realized he'd sat you with one of his cousins who was more pretentious than him as well as his stuffy coworkers.

You and Hongjoong were the first to arrive at the table, so you pulled your chairs closer together so you could talk. Within a few minutes, he had his arm around you, giving you an animated replay of his thoughts during the ceremony. You laughed loudly at the end before putting your face into the crook of his neck to try to hide the volume if your voice.

"I'm surprised to see you here." You heard someone say from behind you.

You turned around and came face to face with his cousin Ira.

"Ira. Good to see you as well." You said coldly.

"I can't believe Jon invited you. And you actually showed up." He said, sitting down across from you.

"We were friends for a long time before we dated. Of course I would come support him in his happiness." You replied.

"Yes...but being draped over some man at said wedding isn't really the most appropriate." He said, tone conveying how condescending he was being.

"Oh, where are my manners. Ira, this is Hongjoong, my boyfriend. Hongjoong, this is Jon's cousin Ira."

"Hey man, nice to meet you." Hongjoong said, sending a small wave towards the other man.

You had to stiffle another laugh at the look of shock on Ira's face. Most people got up to greet someone formally, but not Hongjoong.

"Likewise." Ira muttered.

After an award moment, Hongjoong grabbed your elbow and pulled you towards him so he could whisper in your ear.

"So...about jumping me before dinner. Is that still in the cards because this is horribly stuffy" Hongjoong said lowly.

You couldn't have hidden the laugh that bubbled out of you if you'd tried. Though you hadn't tried at all.

"The bride and groom will be arriving shortly. I suggest you look a little more appropriate." Ira said snidely.

"Hey sure man, no problem." Hongjoong said, keeping you close to him.

"So Y/N...still wasting you life doing freelance work?" Ira asked suddenly.

"You mean, doing my job? Yes, wasting my life away earning an honest living." You replied.

"What man is going to be ok with that? You leave for days at a time doing God knows what. Who would accept that?"

"Well, I mean the guy sitting next to her, ya know...her boyfriend, is accepting of it. I think what she does is amazing. She gets paid to travel and write about her journeys. It's better than being in a stuffy old office all day. That's wasting your life away." Hongjoong told Ira.

"And what is it you do for a living?" Ira asked.

"I'm a game programmer." Hongjoong replied.

"Ah, I understand now. You're okay with her lifestyle because you're a bum who plays video games all day."

"Or I'm okay with it because it's not my choice to decide how she leads her life and finds success. I do play games a lot. But I also founded, own and run a multi million dollar company who had the highest grossing game of the last decade so..." Hongjoong said nonchalantly as he took a drink of his wine.

The last part was news to you, but you weren't going to show the surprise in front of Ira.

"Hongjoong...Kim Hongjoong? Of HJ Gaming?" Ira asked, color draining from his face.

"That's me." Hongjoong said confidently, shooting you a wink.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

~~~

Part 2

[movieexpert1978]

Rich and Famous

anon:  What about another Hans Landa story? I love how you write with him (and all your writin). Maybe something where the reader works for him (housekeeper or something like that), maybe with some slow burn sexual tension? Sorry if that's too vague haha

This kinda turned more into angst/ friendship with hints of romance. 

Hans landa is not my character 

It really sucked being a maid sometimes. Most of the clients didn’t pay you any mind but if they saw one speck of dust in the house they would blame it on you. It was hard being around the rich and famous all the time, knowing that you worked your ass off for a decent wage while they just inherited money. It also sucked to be the maid of Nazis, but not just any Nazis…a certain Colonel Hans Landa, Nazis to be precise. Landa was one of the most feared colonel’s in the war at the moment. As much as she wanted to turn down the job, he paid very well and despite him being a rich, Nazis snob, he never mocked and or undermined her work. In fact he was quiet the gentleman when she came to clean his flat. He gave her a nice extra tip when she cleaned up after one of his parties, particularly ones where someone couldn’t hold their drink. She wanted to hate him, but in all honesty she looked forward to cleaning his flat. Most of the time, he was in his office looking over paperwork and minding his own business. Today was a little different as she knocked at the door.

A woman answered it.

“Oh…who are you?” She asked unamused. Her silky robe barely was hiding the fact that she was practically naked at the front door. Elisa looked at her un-phased. There were a few other instances where women answered the door and it was always a different woman. Hans used the incredible and devious charm of his to get them into bed, but most of the time he didn’t even have to do that.

“My name is Elisa Prime. I have an appointment with the Colonel as I am his house maid.” Elisa stated. The woman let out this horrible mocking laugh that didn’t bother Elisa at all as she knew what was coming, but before the woman could tell her to go away someone else spoke.

“Ahhh, yes Elisa come in!” Hans said eagerly, waving her in. The woman frowned and all but glared at her as she came inside.

“Good morning, Herr Colonel.” Elisa said politely. Thankfully, he wasn’t in a robe, but definitely more casual with a button-up shirt and long pants with his suspenders on his shoulders. Elisa can’t help but wonder if she interrupted something.

“Don’t mind my lovely lady here Elisa. I need to call a cab for her soon anyway.” He says.

“But Hans!” The woman whines.

“Go get dressed. I have things to do.” He says firmly. She huffs as she practically stomps away to change. Elisa can tell he doesn’t like her. She figured he might be a one-night stand guy, but she could understand his distaste for this one. She was far too preppy and snobby for him. Hans could be a snob when he wanted to, but it wasn’t a permeant part of his personality. “I’m very sorry about that my dear.” Hans says sincerely when the woman is out of ear shot. “Would you like a cup of coffee by any chance? I did manage to make a pot before she woke up.” He offers kindly.

“No thank you Herr Colonel. May I ask…is the bathroom a terrible mess?” She asks.

“No, thankfully not this time. I managed to herd my guests out before they got too wild.” He chuckles. “Could you by any chance start with the den then?” He asks.

“Yes sir.” She nods.

“Elisa, you know you don’t have to be so formal. It is a Sunday after all.” He teases.

“Just a habit Herr Colonel.” She says without looking back at him. He smirks softly and heads off to call his other guest a cab as Elisa cleans away. She sprays plenty of perfume to do her best to get rid of the cigarette smell as she works. She keeps quiet as Hans herds the woman away, more than happy to get rid of her. Elisa still can’t help but feel a touch of jealousy since she got to spend the night with him. Elisa shakes her head to get rid of those thoughts as Hans goes into the kitchen to get himself some more coffee. He watches Elisa work every now and then in silence. She was recommended to him and she was well worth it. By early afternoon she had completed her cleaning. Hans handed her the money along with an extra tip.

“I was worried she would smack you.” Hans teases.

“I’ve been through worse.” Elisa shrugs.

“Really? What do you mean by that?” He asks curiously.

“Nothing Herr Colonel.” She says glancing towards the door.

“Did someone hit you?” He asks.

“Every now and then. I’ve grown used to it.” She says quietly.

“Well you shouldn’t. If it ever happens again you tell me and I’ll take care of it.” He says firmly.

“Thank you Herr Colonel. You have a good afternoon.” She says before she is out the door.

Xxxxxxx

       She wasn’t having a good week. For some reason they were all more cruel than usual lately. They made sure to remind her of her place more often than not this week. She left three houses nearly in tears and barely managed to keep it under control as she worked her second job as a waitress at a café. She nearly smacked a solider when he pinched her behind with a smirk. Luckily one of her coworkers saw and took over the table for her, knowing backlash would lead to all kinds of trouble and a possible disappearance of her in the middle of the night as she was dragged away to prison…or worse…a camp. Another Sunday came and even though she usually enjoyed cleaning the colonel’s house, today she was dreading it after her long week. She just wanted to clean, go home, and stay in bed for the rest of the day until work on Monday. She knocked on the door and waited with her cleaning supplies, half expecting another woman to answer the door. Instead, Hans answered.

“Ahhh Elisa come in, come in.” He says happily.

“Good morning Herr Colonel.” She says in usual routine. Hans can’t help but chuckle at her formality. It was hard to come by with people now these days. Hans looks her over and she seems to be more tired than usual.

“Would you like something to eat?” He asks kindly.

“No thank you sir. Shall I start in the den again?” She asks quickly.

“Yes…” Hans nods watching her. She seems upset. He tries not to look over her too much, but he wants to check in case she has bruises. So far her make-up is holding up well so he doesn’t notice for the moment. However, he doesn’t fail to notice that her hands fumble every now and then and she gets more and more frustrated as time goes on. When she gets to the bathroom she closes the door and Hans can hear her sniffling as she cries. He waits patiently, until she is nearly finished before he knocks. “Elisa…are you alright?”

“Yes Hans, almost done…sorry sir.” She says quickly as she finishes up. She gets out of the bathroom and finds him staring at her.

“Elisa, did something happen?” He asks gently.

“No sir.”

“You seem upset. Are you sure?” He asks again.

“Yes sir.”

“…alright…” He nods. She heads off to finish the other rooms. Hans watches her carefully when he spots the bruise on her cheek. “Elisa what happened?” He asks, firmly this time.

“Nothing Hans.” She says avoiding his gaze.

“Your make-up faded. I can see the bruise on your cheek.” He says. She freezes for a moment before she looks at him.

“Yeah…well…well…what do you care!?” She snaps at him angrily. He nearly jumps in surprise at her tone. He’s never heard her yell before.

“Elisa, you’re my friend. I concerned.” He says truthfully.

“Why? So you can just take me to your bed like all the other women?” She snaps. “You people are all the same!” She says bitterly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He states. Now he’s getting angry but she doesn’t care anymore.

“Oh what are you going to do? Make me disappear…please you’d be doing me a favor.” She spats as tears run down her face. She gathers her supplies and heads for the front door.

“We’re not done here.” Hans says grabbing her arm.

“No! I’m done!” She snaps back yanking herself free. She slams her basket of cleaning supplies on the floor and the bottles rattle loudly. “I’m so sick of you people!” She shouts as she starts crying. “Every day I work and I work and I work and I have nothing to show for it, while you…you…you just flaunt all your money like it’s no big deal! It’s not fair!” She screams. “I work so hard and I have nothing! You do nothing and you have everything and I’m tired of it! I can’t do this anymore.” She says and crumbles to the ground, slumping against the wall as she sobs into her hands. Hans stares at her in shock as he processes her words. He swallows and takes a deep breath before he kneels. She doesn’t protest as he carefully pulls her into his arms and holds her as she sobs. He feels for the poor girl. He truly does. He remembers being like her, working his ass off before the wars and envying all the others. War made him prosper and he wasn’t exactly proud of that fact either.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry Elisa.” He whispers to her every now and then as he gently kisses the top of her head. She cries for a long time and it breaks his heart as he feels her tears wet his shirt. He picks her up and carries her to the sofa where she can be comfortable as he holds her. It’s a long time before she finally manages to calm down and look at him.

“I’m so sorry sir…please…please forgive me…” She begs fearfully.

“Shhhhh…there’s nothing to forgive. I understand your frustration. I truly do.” He rasps, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. “I was like you once. Just trying to make ends meet…I’ve forgotten that in…privilege.” He admits. She looks at him numbly, her eyes still very wet with tears. “You need a break…you need rest.” He says. “Please…let me help you.” He nearly begs.

“Ok…ok Herr-Hans…” She whispers, correcting herself. He smiles at her, trying to cheer her up. She gives him a weak smile.

“I’m going to make you some breakfast…and then you’ll stay the night, my guest bedroom is very comfortable.” He says. She wants to protest but breakfast and a nice bed sounds like a heaven.

“Thank you Hans…again…I’m sorry about what I said. I wasn’t mad at you.” She says lowering her head.

“I know. It’s alright.” He says sincerely. He can’t help but gently kiss her temple in comfort. “Everything will work out…I promise

[kisskissbanggang]

I just woke up from a nap and let me say—political android Jaehyun is a crazy idea. In my dream he killed my coworkers in a planned destruction of scientific data, but got scared of himself and was hiding in my office so I went back 3 days later to go recover what I could and poor boy was scanning and reprinting all the data he destroyed because he felt bad so I brought him into my home and recovered the data with him and then his ai was great but I didn’t know that yet (part 1)

Move along, nothing to see here unless you want to see Lexi’s incredible nap-dream play out and then me screaming about it. 💕

I was just being me, nice to robots, but I started to do more research on the ai his model had, and had him destroy my search histories and found out that I could remove his “person chip” so he could go back to work and have most of his memories that were positive wiped so he was able to continue his government work while he was feeding me information, and the government found out I didn’t die so I lied and faked my support of their actions and they brought me into the ranks (part 2)

But he still preferred to come to my place most nights so I would replace his person chip when he came into my home and we became friends and he expressed that he always wanted to know about human feelings like having parents and pets and falling in love so one night I asked him if he wanted to lay in my bed with my cat since she’d gotten used to him being around and so he laid in my bed and was all stiff and didn’t know what to do because inexperienced robot (part 3)

And he asked what cuddling was like but he was all stiff so I resituated his body to be okay for cuddling and snuggled him and told him to research “body language” and 2 minutes later he moved himself again and wrapped his arms around me because he learned about body language and I kept telling him keywords to research about intimate human interaction and interacting with pets until I fell asleep in his arms and when I woke up (part 4)

He was in my kitchen with breakfast prepared waiting for me and sitting on my couch, petting my cat whom he befriended overnight 😂 and we watched the news about the government again and he said to me “you don’t really like it do you” and I was engulfed in my eggs and said “no I love what you cooked but fuck that guy” at [insert gov official here] and he said “how come you work for them now” and i said “I need a job because my other one was destroyed” and he got all glum looking (part 5)

And he said “I didn’t want to do it, but they decide my actions when I’m in uniform” and I said “I know I don’t blame you for what they make you do” and he said “How can I learn about them to decide if I like them or not?” And I gave him keywords about the government to research and he came back and said “oh those conspiracies are true I saw it with my own eyes” and I said “well shit then I hate them even more” and he asked about keywords to learn about morality (part 6)

And he ended up mentioning his creator and I remembered learning about how that guy was murdered by his creation (Jaehyun) because the government made him, but that that creator always created both the most powerful androids but also the most ethical and I asked him if it was true and he said it was true and that he regrets his actions everyday and that’s why he wouldn’t ever hurt me. He talked about how mean the gov was to him and how I was the only nice person he knew since his creator(part 7)

And it became this cute thing in the mornings, I’d take out his person chip while I adjusted his collar similar to a spouse putting on a tie and he’d go off to work before me and then I’d go off to work and get back before him so when he’d come home I’d loosen up his shirt and put his person chip back in and he’d turn back into a docile friend and one day we ended up “meeting” at work because I reached a higher rank and we had to pretend we didn’t know each other (part 8)

But as time went on the government was still shitty and made him do not great things and my job got slightly less ethical as days passed but I was getting paid a lot more and Jaehyun told me about the plans to destroy the low income neighborhood I lived in to remove those people from the planet and make everyone else there homeless so I took a personal leave from work to both move and also warn everyone there (20% of them outright believed me—they thought I was a crazed scientist) (part 9)

But I moved into a nicer area that wasn’t getting destroyed and that neighborhood was destroyed but only 5 people died, but that was because they thought they could take on the android, but also one elderly lady never made it out even though my neighbor promised to get her out so I was devastated about her loss, Jaehyun could tell something was off and did research on the event and learned about the old lady’s death (who he killed ofc) and felt sadness for the first time in his life (part 10)

Eventually I’m to the point at work where my creation is being tested so I’m told to move back home to be safe and they’d give me a retirement for my work (I guess I lived on the east coast) but couldn’t take a plane because of Jaehyun so we were road tripping all the way back to North Dakota which Jaehyun loved because he never had to pee and could use the AC adapter in my car to top off his charge. He was a great GPS though (part 20)

But because of the global warming and regulations you could only drive 250 miles a day so we had to stop a lot and ended up at a lot of motels so they wouldn’t ask questions about my other guest since he had minimal ID and was theoretically meant to stay on the east coast and never move. And we ended up at this janky place and it spooked me out so Jaehyun actually laid with me again that night instead of just sitting at the desk charging like he did at other places (part 21)

And my car had issues so we ended up having to stay at that place a couple of nights but it was still v scary for me. We ended up going to a saloon near the motel for me to get food, Jaehyun came with because spooked) and they were having a dance night and Jaehyun had never danced before so I decided to teach him and he was having a great time and suddenly a slow song came on and I was so focused on teaching him how to slow dance that I didn’t notice how he was looking at me (part 22)

And so I finally feel like he’s got the footwork down and the song is half done and I look up at him and he leans down to kiss me and his dumb android lips are too great and part of me is revolted because I’m kissing a robot but also part of me loves Jaehyun more than I could ever love anyone I’d ever met because of his innocence and good morals and when he pulls away he looks shocked and he said “I just wanted to copy the movies I didn’t know I could feel that” and I laughed at him (part 23)

And when we got back to the motel and I’d washed up he was like “Can we do that again?” And it was the dumbest most cute thing ever and I sat on the bed with him standing in front of me, way too eager hoping I’d say yes and I nodded and he did a little dance before leaning back down to kiss me again and he kept going and eventually had my back on the bed with him over me, holding me as close to himself as he could and then the moment was ruined bc there was some guy rattling room doors (part 24)

I got spooked and Jaehyun guarded me with his body and the guy kept going and management called the room to apologize for the drunk guy who forgot his room # and I ended up just going to sleep. The next day my car was fixed and we were back on the road. Jaehyun kept touching his lips and opening his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, he’d blush, look away, and close his mouth. He’d do this ad nauseum until I asked what he was thinking (part 25)

And he just asked “How do I know what love is?” And I choked on air, not expecting that question and I tried my best to describe it and gave up and said “You just know. You’d be devastated without them in your life and you enjoy being with them and you love all of their flaws.” And he asked if I loved Gladys and I said “Of course, platonically” and he asked the difference between platonic and romantic love and he said “I loved Gladys platonically too” (part 26)

I ended up going north to Wisconsin for some reason (I think there was a safety issue?) so it took a while to get anywhere but the day after we talked about love Jaehyun looks at me and says, “What if I think I romantically loved you?” And I pulled over, absolutely shocked by my own internal instinct to say “I love you too” and he looked at my face and sheepishly asked “So is now a good time to kiss again?” And we ended up making out on the side of the highway (part 27)

At that point in the dream it gets fuzzy, we get to the next motel, Jaehyun kisses me again, but puts his knee between my legs and when he moves and up moving against my groin and things escalated from there. The dream cuts to my parents meeting him and my dad having a weird vibe about him but not being sure what to think because the dogs think he’s cool. Piper bit his finger once and he didn’t flinch so my dad was like “????” But whatever he seemed like a nice boyfriend to me (part 28)

I end up telling my sister everything and my mom overheard the part about what my job was doing not about Jaehyun being a robot. My sister was understanding and my mom was worried about my work and told me that’s why she warned me about working at the Naval Academy. And between my sister, her husband, Jaehyun, and I, we came up with this plan to take over the government and it was crazy but Jaehyun had all the information to get into places since I backed him up (part 29)

Okay but OH MY GOD??? I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW INVESTED I ALSO JUST GOT IN YOUR NAP DREAM???????????? This had everything like it had stakes and drama and comedy and suspense and science and sex and what the hell it was a whole movie??? It was a whole miniseries??? ANDROID JAEHYUN WANTING TO LEARN WHAT LOVE IS WHAT AN IDEAAAA

I’ve said Android au’s are my jam I feel discombobulated in the best way this is like three different movies in one I’m still losing it BECAUSE I CAN’T STOP THINKING OF ANDROID JAEHYUN LOVING YOUR CAT HOLY SHIT

[bergarachan]

maid | chapter 01

maid: a shyan fanfiction by femmebergara

read on wattpad or on ao3!

rating: T (so far)

Trigger warnings: None (if you are triggered by anything in this chapter please let me know and i will update this for you!)

Summary: ryan signs up for a job to take care of wealthy land owner's son, shane madej. feelings and shenanigans ensue.

Chapter 01 | the new maid

"Not to be rude, sir, but I look stupid." Ryan said, looking at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a maid dress. A maid dress. And Ryan was a boy. The dress was black and white, with a bowtie at the top and frilly towards the edges.

The butler, Brent, shrugged. "This is the outfit that Mr. Madej requested for you, sir. Mr. Madej is quite impatient. If you don't wear it, you could be fired on the spot."

That shut down every plan Ryan had to get out of this stupid dress. He had signed up for this job because he was okay at tidying and looking after people, yeah, but especially for the money. This job offered Ryan a $200 per week. Per week! That was crazy compared to all the other jobs he had serving at restaurants and helping out customers at retail stores. Ryan would never consider himself a man if he was fired from a job on his first day. "Okay..." Ryan concided. Maybe he could convince Mr. Mark Madej, the owner of the huge mansion he was now to work at, to give him something more... modest. Hopefully it's not because Mark is into some gross kinky shit.

Ryan was dragged out of his thoughts when a tall, thin, but intimidating man walked into the room. His eyes widened considerably large at what Ryan was wearing and Ryan would have laughed if he wasn't scared of this man already. This must be Mark Madej.

"Is this our maid?" He asked Brent, slightly bewildered, and Brent nodded.

"Yes, sir, this is Ryan Bergara. He is the man you chose to be Shane's personal handmaid." Realization seemed to cross Mark's face. "Oh. I thought you were a woman." A woman? Do I look like a woman? Ryan had a bunch of snarky replies he could have said but instead he just stuck with, "No, sir. I'm a boy." Well, technically, he had just turned 19, so he was a man, but still.

"Usually only women apply for these sorts of jobs..." Mark trailed off, seeming deep in thought for a moment before turning to Ryan again. "This is the outfit all the maids at this household wear, that's why you are wearing that. If I had known you were a man..."

Thinking his job was in jeopardy, Ryan was quick to reply. "No, no, sir! I mean... it's not... what I expected..." Shit, shit, say something smart, Ryan. "But I don't hate it! It's comfy, so... I can deal." Uh.

"So, would you like to stay in this outfit?" Mark asked politely. "Uh... yes, sir." What? Ryan, are you fucking insane?  "Maybe only until the weather gets colder?" Better. But still: What the fuck.

Mark nodded. "That seems doable. Sorry for the mix-up, Mr. Bergara." "I-it's alright, sir."

"Good. You start tonight, 6pm sharp." Mark nodded to Brent to leave, and Brent nodded back at him and left the room curtly. He turned back to Ryan. "I'll be leaving the country for work tomorrow, so it will just be you, the workers, and Shane. I have given you the sheet for his daily schedule. Saturdays are off-days. Make sure he doesn't leave the property without your assistance." "Yes, sir." The beginnings of a smile appeared on Mark's face. "Good. Your room is around the corner, up a flight of stairs, and to the right. Make yourself at home." "Thank you, sir."

Ryan picked up his luggage and quickly headed up the stairs and to the room marked "handmaiden's room" outside. Ryan realized that he was, technically, the maid. No matter if he was a boy or a girl, he was still Shane's personal handmaiden. He didn't know how he felt about that but he assumed he would get used to it.

Shane. Ryan did not know much about Shane himself, he just knew that Shane was his age as well, 19, and was Mark's only son. The other maids and butlers spoke about him as if he was mysterious, and it sparked Ryan's curiosity.

All thoughts about the landowner's son vanished when he opened the door and stepped into his room.

The room was an off-white, with a large bed. The curtains were white and wispy. In the corner there was a rack with multiple coats. There were paintings of the wall, Ryan assumed of other Madej family members. He opened the door behind the rack to reveal a closet, and Ryan let out a sigh of relief. He had brought all the money he had with him. Maybe if he had any free time he could buy some formal working clothes? Hopefully it would be allowed.

In the corner, there was a seating area, maybe where Ryan could lounge and possibly eat his meals.

Ryan smiled to himself as he put down his bag. He was happy with his living space, especially if the pay was good (and it was, 100%). This job would be a fresh start for him.

He glanced at the clock: it was almost 5pm. He had an hour to get ready for dinner with Shane. He had to unpack, shower (because boy, worrying about this job made him work up quite a sweat), make his hair look presentable, and run down to the dining room. Ryan took a deep breath. Okay, Ryan. Your first good job. You are capable of this. You can do it.

And with that, Ryan figured out his next goal: getting out of the damn maid dress.

____

It was five minutes 'til 6, and Ryan was almost ready to go. He had showered, done his hair, and he put on the maiden dress, deciding that while it wasn't ideal, he honestly didn't hate it. Who knew? Just because he was a little chilly, he threw on a baby pink sweater and practically ran downstairs.

While doing so, he barely looked where he was going. His heart was racing and he just wanted to make it to dinner he just wanted to make it-

thud!

Ryan knocked into another person from behind, almost knocking him over. Ryan gasped and stuttered out an apology, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" The person turned around.

He was a boy, around Ryan's age. He was tall, very, very tall. He was fairly skinny but the way his muscles showed through his blazer told Ryan that he was not weak, either. He had a long nose, light brown hair, fair skin, and sleepy, brown eyes that had flecks of gold within them. Ryan would be lying if he said the boy wasn't attractive.

Ryan didn't realize the two of them were frozen, staring at each other until the boy broke the silence. "You must be my new maid." Oh. It was Shane. This was the boy he was supposed to look after for the forseeable future.

Ryan gaped at him for a moment before coming back to his senses.  "Oh, yes, hi, I'm Ryan. I'm your new personal handmaid." He held out his hand to shake, but Shane just stared at it, before taking Ryan's hand in his and not letting go. Then he started to continue back down the stairs, leading Ryan with him. "Oh, uhm, okay." Ryan said dumbly. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Shane's hand was warm and soft. Ryan decided to continue talking. "I know you kinda expected me to be a girl, so... sorry about that." Shane turned to look at Ryan as they continued down flights of stairs. "I don't care. I like you." Ryan blinked.

"You... like me?"

"Of course."

"Oh... well, okay." Shane liked him. He had barely said a word! Hopefully being friends with Shane would be easier than he thought.

They entered the dining room of the manor. It was very large, with a long table. A tall, pink-haired man was waiting for them, standing by two seats with a tray of food. Shane let go of Ryan's hand and went to sit at the head of the table, and Ryan followed.

They sat down, Shane at the head and Ryan ajacent to him on the seat next to it, and the man holding their food spoke. "Hello, sir." He said to Shane, and Shane said, "Hi, Steven."

Steven then turned to Ryan. "Are you the new maid?"

"Yes," Said Ryan politely, "I'm Ryan. This is my first day on the job."

"I like him," Said Shane.

"I'm the cook here. Nice to meet you, Ryan!" Steven seemed quite happy to have a new coworker.

Dinner was served, and Ryan and Shane ate. Ryan had to admit, the food was incredible. Steven was an amazing cook. Shane told Ryan that he loved to be outside, watch movies, and read books, while Steven stood by the two and made commentary on what they were saying. Ryan thought that they were both very funny, and allowed himself to giggle a bit at their jokes. Ryan told Shane about his life at school before getting the job moving into the manor. Ryan was quite content with how things were going.

As the two finished eating, Steven said, "Shane, go up to your room. It is time for your study period."

Shane frowned. "But I want to stay here."

"Shane..." Ryan said softly, and the two turned to him. "You should go. It's only for half an hour, and then you have free time until curfew. How does that sound?" At that, Shane brightened a little.

"Okay," He said, "I'll go." Ryan smiled as Shane got up and walked off.

Steven turned to Ryan in disbelief. "Holy crap, dude." "What?" Ryan asked.

"He agreed with you so easily. Usually he puts up a fight." He sat down at the seat next to Ryan. "Shane.... has never really had much social interaction, so sometimes he acts a little wacky, but we all love him, so we put up with it. Hopefully your presence here will make him a little more tolerable."

Ryan smiled weakly. "Yeah... hopefully."

Steven returned the smile. "You're free to go to your room if you want. Make yourself at home. I'll call you when Shane is done with his study period, and then you are to report to his room and spend time with him. Does that sound okay?"

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Steven."

"No problem."

With that, Ryan got up and headed back to his room, flopping down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling with a big sigh. Wow. What a day.

Ryan washed his face and dressed comfortably. He picked up one of his favorite books that he brought with him to the manor, laid down, and started to read. He was excited to see Shane again. He couldn't wait what the future at the manor would hold.

[artificialqueens]

drawing new lines, chapter one (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | (word count: 3756)

AN: Hello, new multichap! This one has been an extremely fun one to write so far, and I can’t wait to keep going. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Special thanks for Writ for being a wonderful beta, for listening to me throw ideas left write and centre and encouraging even the most headass of plots. Also shoutout to Barbie for coming up with Brooke’s career in this fic, aka wanting an architect Brooke. Title of the fic from Flying by Wrabel. Enjoy!

There’s no part of Vanessa’s day better than lunchtime.

The damn good lunch she’s packed if she’s meal prepped for the week. The myriad of cafeteria options if she hasn’t. The break from the politics and ridiculousness of working in the HR department. The top up of caffeine after her morning coffee begins to wear off.

But the best part of it all? Having forty five minutes to talk smack with Silky and A’keria, gossiping about their love lives and their coworkers and being noisy enough to annoy everyone else in the cafeteria.

Today, Vanessa’s the one partly responsible for inciting their shenanigans. She just can’t help it, not when Aquaria from marketing apparently has a new boyfriend and Vanessa knows for a fact that her new man ain’t gonna make her come as many times as Vanessa had when they were dating.

“I’m telling you, she ain’t never gonna have as good as when she had me.” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke as she watches Aquaria by the vending machine, arm in arm with her man.

“You don’t sound jealous at all, boo.” A’keria’s smile is all too knowing, and Vanessa has to stick her tongue out at her.

“I ain’t jealous.” She isn’t. “Aquaria was a total pillow princess in bed. You think I want that situation again? Nooo, thank you.”

Silky snickers. “We were almost convinced for a second there.”

“Please. I feel bad for her, if anything. She probably ain’t gonna get what she needs from him.” Vanessa tries to picture what the clean cut guy beside Aquaria does in bed. Somehow, with the side part and tucked in shirt and loafers, she finds that she can’t.

“And what is it that she needs? Your tongue? Your fingers?” A’keria wiggles her eyebrows. “Your strap?”

“Y’all hateful.” Vanessa scowls as Silky starts smacking the table from laughing so hard.

“All I’m saying is that Aquaria can do better. Though honestly, so can I. And she wasn’t even my last girlfriend. I can get me the ladies.” Vanessa scoffs as she says it. She totally can. She’s a ladykiller.

She is.

Ish.

“Is that so, Vanj? Tell us, who are the last few girls you got?” A’keria cocks her head, wiggles in her seat like she’s excited for Vanessa’s answer.

Hmph.

“Well. There was Aquaria, obviously. Who was all over me when we were dating. There was Kameron. Ariel. There was Scarlet for a short time, too.”

Silky wrinkles her nose. “Y’know, I always forget you dated Scarlet. That concept’s fucking weird.”

“It was fucking weird. That’s why we broke up so fast.” Vanessa shudders. “All I’m saying, though, is that I can get me a lady. I’m a catch, I really am. Hey, stop laughing!”

A’keria and Silky are too busy guffawing to hear her, and Vanessa can’t take this attack on her reputation, she really can’t. She’s got game, and she knows she can prove it.

“Fine. Name a lady. Any lady that works here, even if she straight. I bet I can get her to go out with me.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s the Vanjie charm.”

“Ooh bitch, you’re asking for it. This gonna be good. We gotta think.” Silky drums her fingers on the table, leans back in her chair as A’keria takes a sip of her drink.

Vanessa takes a bite of her sandwich, tries not to be bothered as Silky and A’keria let out hmmms and I wonders. That is, until Silky slams her fist on the table.

“Brooke Lynn motherfucking Hytes.”

“What-”

“Not her-”

“I said what I said.” Silky gestures to Brooke, one of the firm’s top architecture project managers, currently waiting in line for her coffee across the cafeteria.

A specimen so fine that even Vanessa feels a tingle running down her spine. Or maybe that’s because she needs to pee.

Regardless.

“You land her? I’ll buy your lunch for a month.” Silky leans back in her seat, crosses her arms.

“Shit, really?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow at her. “An entire month?”

“You’re acting like you have a chance of success in the first place.” Silky looks a little too amused for Vanessa’s liking, and she feels herself bristle just a bit.

“I sure as hell do.” Sure, maybe Vanessa’s talking out of her ass, but she’s not gonna show it. Not to Silky and A’keria who are regarding her with smug smiles.

So what if Brooke, in her six inch stilettos and pencil skirt that hugs her ass perfectly, is sure as fuck out of Vanessa’s league? So what if Brooke’s known for turning down men and women alike that try to ask her out without so much as a second glance?

Brooke doesn’t wear a ring, which means that she’s fair game. And Vanessa’s going to make it happen.

“Just you wait. Imma make Miss Hytes fall head over heels for me, fuckers.”

Sure, the drama of Vanessa’s statement is slightly ruined by Silky letting out a snort, but the effect is strong enough.

Vanessa’s not going to have to meal prep for an entire month, if she can play her cards just right.

Brooke Lynn Hytes is a creature of habit.

Waking up, then going on a thirty minute run. Breakfast of kale and egg whites. Reaching work ten minutes early. Touching base with all the leads on her current project, making sure that it’s going smoothly. Getting the work done that she needs to before lunch rolls around, a lunch that she spends on her phone catching up with even more work emails. Working until precisely 4:30 pm, when she can roll out the door in time to make her spin class at 5:15 up in midtown.

There isn’t much that disrupts the routine if she has anything to say about it. That is, until she’s packing up at 4:32 and slipping her coat on and a woman knocks on her office door, entering before she can say anything.

“Hytes, right?” The woman flashes her a smile bright enough to knock out the power in the city, and Brooke’s attention is definitely captured away from her things on her desk.

The woman looks familiar. HR, maybe? Maybe the one who’d come around after John had said lewd things to Brooke’s secretary. Though Brooke’s not sure. “And you are…?”

“Oh! Right.” The woman pauses, sticking out a hand. “Vanessa.”

Brooke shakes the woman’s hand, noting that her grip is firm, something she always likes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here on…non work related business.”  Vanessa’s smile is sheepish, and Brooke pauses, waiting for her to continue, because she has no idea what the business could possibly be.

“So, here’s the thing. I have a bet to win that involves no meal prep for me for an entire month.” Vanessa drums her fingers on Brooke’s desk, almost nervously.  

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with me?”

She’s never really interacted with Vanessa before, so she’s not sure how-

“The bet involves you, too.” Vanessa’s fidgety now, and it almost makes Brooke want to laugh, how nervous she is. “Two coworkers bet that I couldn’t get you to go out with me.”

Really?

Brooke snorts, because really, she should have expected it. “Did they, now?”

“Listen, I know it sounds wack-”

“No thanks.” Brooke goes back to packing up her things, tucking confidential files into the drawers of her desk, pulling her coat over her shoulders. “Don’t think I can help you out with that.”

Vanessa, for her part, remains unperturbed. “There’s perks. You can split the free food with me.”

Brooke snorts. “While that’s a very generous offer, I’m still going to have to say no.”

“Aw, why not?” Vanessa comes around the side of her desk, and Brooke gets a good look at her. She’s looking up at Brooke with a defiant expression in her eyes, one that doesn’t want to take no for an answer, and Brooke almost respects it.

But she also has a spin class to get to, which means that ‘almost’ isn’t really enough to make her want to be late.

“Okay, look.” Vanessa continues when Brooke doesn’t answer, instead focused on zipping up her coat. “This ain’t all just for my benefit. It could help you too.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” Brooke lets her keep talking for the sole fact that she wants to see where Vanessa’s reasoning will go. Vanessa’s incredibly entertaining, as much as Brooke doesn’t want to admit it.

“Ain’t there lots of people who try and snatch you up? You’re like The Bachelorette of this office building.”

Brooke has to hold back a laugh. “There are people that have tried to ask me out, yes. But I wouldn’t necessarily call myself that.”

“Chris Harrison must be lurking around here somewhere to host a season for you.” Vanessa’s grinning, and Brooke can’t help but notice how cute it is. “I’d wanna be on that season.”

“Would you now?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is, you got lotsa people bothering you, right? This way you can pretend to date me and just say you’re taken.” Vanessa’s looking at her like she’s just solved the world’s biggest math problem.

“I don’t know if that would necessarily work. We’d have to convince people that we were actually together, first of all.”

Vanessa waves a hand. “It ain’t gonna take Oscar-worthy acting to fool these buffoons. We could do it. Plus, ain’t you got people who bother you about finding someone? Friends and shit?”

Brooke thinks back to her last get together with Nina, when they’d gotten drinks and Nina kept waving her engagement ring around like it was a prized possession, like having a ring on her finger had magically solved all of her problems. Which it hadn’t, obviously, because despite the engagement ring Nina still has to deal with her car transmission needing repairs and her boyfriend (fiancé) coming home from work too late. So what’s the point, really?

Though it never stops Nina and Courtney and Steve from trying to set Brooke up with their friends (‘wanna go out with her, she kissed me in college which means she’s definitely still a lesbian, right?’), from them lamenting on and on that Brooke will eventually find the right person, she will, despite the fact that Brooke doesn’t really care.

Or want to find anyone, really.

Brooke’s got her job and her vibrator. The only two things she needs in life, really, for fulfillment.

But Vanessa’s still standing there in her too tall heels that don’t do much to increase her height, really, an expectant look on her face as she waits for Brooke’s answer, Brooke can tell that Vanessa’s already gotten her figured out.

“Maybe.”

“This can get them off your back. All we gotta do is show up at some social engagements and work events and shit and, bam. Fake couple. We both get a payout.” Vanessa grins, really grins, rubbing her hands together like a scheming cartoon villain, and Brooke can’t help how entertaining she finds her.

“You’re still offering half of your free lunches?” Brooke holds back a snort.

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” Vanessa waves a hand, before reaching across Brooke’s desk to grab the stack of post-it notes that sits next to her coffee mug.

Vanessa scrawls ten digits in messy handwriting, sliding them across the desk towards Brooke. “In the meantime? Think about it. Get back to me. You can be part of the greatest finesse ever pulled at this godforsaken office. All you gotta do is say yes.”

With that, Vanessa turns on her heel and leaves, but not before shooting a wink in Brooke’s direction. Brooke finds herself stuck in place for longer than she wants to admit, replaying the sway in Vanessa’s hips as she lets the door close behind her.

She snaps out of it when she looks down at the numbers scrawled on the post-it note, followed by a short, almost indecipherable message in messy handwriting.

U know how to reach me. Xoxoxo, V.  

The text comes through a couple of days later when Vanessa’s going over some policy that her supervisor wants to review again for the millionth time, and she nearly drops her phone in excitement when the unknown number pops up, because finally.

Fine. We can try to do this.

“Yesssss!” Vanessa can’t help the little fist pump that escapes her, because Brooke’s agreed and she gets free food but most importantly, the chance to rub it in the faces of Silky and A’keria.

Vanessa saves the number as quick as she can before replying.

VVM: knew u would see the light sooner or later.

BLH: awful presumptuous.

VVM: it’s just smart business!

BLH: how is any of this a business deal?

VVM: I dunno but I sure as hell am feeling as smug as the suits in our office building.

BLH: regardless, we gotta lay down some ground rules. For this to even work.

VVM: I’m snoozing already

VVM: let’s do this over lunch

BLH: are you food motivated for everything in your life?

VVM: maybe

VVM: Benny’s at 12:30?

BLH: unbelievable

BLH: see you then

Benny’s Sandwich Shop is a hole in the wall across the street from their office building that, in Vanessa’s eyes, has the best damn paninis in the city. She rubs her hands together in excitement before digging into her veggie grilled sandwich, wanting to make it last as long as possible.

Brooke’s sitting across the table, and looking at her with a slightly raised eyebrow. “That excited for your sandwich?”

Vanessa scoffs at the sad looking bowl in front of Brooke. “Better than coming to a sandwich shop and ordering a damn salad. What are you, a rabbit?”

“A rabbit who knows what she likes.” Brooke raises her fork towards Vanessa before taking a bite. “So. Rules.”

“Right, rules.” Vanessa rummages in her bag before pulling out a notebook and pen. She’s not going to be unprepared, not when she can get free lunch from A’keria out of it. “Number one, no dating anyone else while we faking it. Obviously.”

“You’re acting as if that’s a rule I would break.” Brooke has a smile playing on her lips and Vanessa scoffs.

“Just being thorough. I won’t either, so.”

“Or I’d be so heartbroken if you did.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke, who seems to be enjoying their situation way too much. “Not even an hour into fake dating and you already pulling on my pigtails.”

“Sorry.” Brooke winks and Vanessa’s breath absolutely does not hitch in her throat at the sight, no ma’am. “Rule two?”

“We gotta show up at some events together. To sell it and all that, otherwise A’keria ain’t gonna buy it.” Vanessa can already see A’keria’s piercing gaze, can already hear the soft mmmhm that she always lets out whenever she gets suspicious.

“Doable.” Brooke writes it down in the notebook. “Events like what?”

“Like some group dinners or evenings out, or holiday or New Years parties coming up, shit like that. To make it look like we cuffed for the season.” Vanessa pictures going to holiday parties with Brooke hanging off of her arm, maybe in a tight dress that hugs her-

She needs to focus.

“Okay. Rule three?” Brooke’s pen is poised to write and Vanessa kinda likes it, how in sync they are already.

Vanessa almost doesn’t want to bring up the next one, but since it’ll be a big component of faking a relationship, she grits her teeth and leans forward on the table to ask the question. “PDA. Thoughts?”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “Not too big on overdoing it, but I can take some pecks here and there. Holding hands, being arm in arm.”

Vanessa nearly awws, because Brooke’s description is akin to the time in seventh grade when she’d ‘dated’ a boy in her class for three weeks before he broke up with her by the baseball diamond.

Not her finest moment, dating wise.

“I can do that.” The more she thinks about it, the more Vanessa is open to the idea. Participating in all of the innocent, early parts of a relationship, the ones viewed by everyone.

A small part of Vanessa wonders how Brooke’s hand will fit in hers, if it’ll be warm or cold. If she’ll fit against Brooke’s side like she belongs there. She’s excited to find out.

Brooke leans forward in her seat. “Not a rule but - how are we going to tell people we started seeing each other? What will the story be?”

Vanessa pauses and thinks, really thinks. She wants it to be elaborate but not so elaborate that it’s unbelievable, but just enough detail to convince others that their story is authentic.

“Easy. We ran into each other in the hall and you spilled coffee on my shirt and helped me clean it up in the bathroom, and the rest is history.” Vanessa’s proud of her imagination, really, until Brooke snorts.

“So we started dating because you took your shirt off?”

Vanessa huffs. “Got any better ideas?”

“Sticking with the coffee theme, here’s one. We started talking in the line for Starbucks and coincidentally ordered the same drink, then sat and talked about it, before talking about other things. Then you left your number on my cup before you left.” Brooke looks entirely too pleased with herself, the smile lighting her features as she takes a bite of her salad.

Vanessa’s not sold, though. “Why am I the one who writes the number?”

“Why, never had the balls to leave a lady your number before?”

“Hey.” Vanessa swats at Brooke’s arm, ignores the way she’s snickering. She knows that Brooke’s trying to bait her, she is, that somehow she’s already figured out the way that Vanessa ticks.

Doesn’t mean she’s going to try something different this time, though.

“Fine. I write the number. Let’s go with yours.” Vanessa lets out a huff before grabbing the pen from Brooke’s hand, writing their origin story on a corner of the page.

But they need to get back to the task at hand, something that Vanessa realizes when she puts the lid back on her pen. She uncaps it once more. “Rule number four. Social media. We gotta add each other on Instagram and post with each other here and there.”

“All I post on Instagram are my two cats.” Brooke’s smile is sheepish and Vanessa can’t help but let out a snort.

“Shit, you sure you ain’t a crazy cat lady?” Vanessa winks at her before reaching out, grabbing her hand, something that feels more right than it should. “We’ll sprinkle in some actual humans in between the cats.”

Brooke squeezes her hand back, something that doesn’t escape her notice. “Fine. Gimme your phone so I can add myself.”

Vanessa files a note to herself to stalk through Brooke’s instagram later after Brooke accepts her follow request, to look past the cats and for some more information about her, maybe about her past exes-

Nah. Just to be thorough, make sure she knows just enough.

Brooke holds up her own phone, the screen on a boomerang of Vanessa on holiday with Silky, facing away from the camera and pulling her bikini bottoms down for just a second. “Seems like your vacations are fun.”

“Bitch-hey. ” Vanessa tries to reach for Brooke’s phone but Brooke’s arms are longer, easily holding the phone out of Vanessa’s way.

“I feel like I’m going to have a great time scrolling through your instagram, I really do.” Brooke’s looking smug, too smug, and Vanessa huffs.

“Don’t think I won’t find your weird ass posts, too.”

Brooke’s eyes are sparkling. “I know you will. Though I’m not as defensive as you are.“

“Okay, last rule.” Vanessa shoves the notebook in between them, intent on distracting Brooke from her nightmare of an Instagram account. “Five seems like a good place to end. Any ideas?”

“I got one.” Brooke leans forward in her seat slightly. “Promise not to fall in love with me by the end of this.”

Vanessa lets out a laugh, an actual laugh, because Brooke is awful presumptuous. “I’m only in this for free food and bragging rights against A’keria. That won’t be a problem at all, don’t you worry your little blonde head.” She pauses, looking back over at Brooke, who still has a shit eating grin on her face. “And you can’t fall in love with me, either. I know I’m irresistible and all that, but-”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Please. I’m just doing this to get my friends off my back. You’ll be just fine.”

Vanessa wonders what it’ll be like meeting Brooke’s friends. What they’re like, what they’ll think of her. Not that it matters, really, since it’s all gonna be fake. But still.

“I think that about covers it all.” Vanessa looks at their list, pleased with how it’s all beginning to come together. “We’ll be able to fool these hoes, easy.”

“You think so?” Brooke trails her pen over the list, as if she’s trying to find something that they’ve missed.

“I know so. And hey, if we wanna add or take something out, we can always change it. This list open to edits.”

Brooke looks satisfied. “Good. And like any good paper contract, we have to sign on the dotted line.”

Her signature on the bottom of the page is fancy, all loops and flourishes and Vanessa can’t help but scoff. “What kinda extra-ass signature is that?”

“A nice one. Yours is boring.” Brooke points to Vanessa’s, smaller and definitely one with less loops and Vanessa crosses her arms.

“You’re boring.”

“Ooh, great comeback.” Brooke’s smiling, though, and it keeps Vanessa from wanting to reach over the table and shove her. “So, are we good to go?”

Vanessa sticks out a hand and Brooke shakes it with a firm grip. “That we are, blondie. Time to pull the greatest trick that our office ever did see.”

Rules:

No dating anyone else.

Show up at events together.

Light PDA only.

Interact on social media like a couple.

No falling in love.

Instagram story posted by @vanessavanjie. Location: @bennysdiner. Tagged: @bhytes. Description: A boomerang of Brooke Lynn Hytes sitting at a table, munching on what appears to be a salad. A gif of a rabbit eating a carrot is in the bottom left corner.

[chitose-art]

A entitled mother wants to force me to marry her son and disrespects me. She ends up scared.

Good morning to all.

I'll explain my first direct encounter with a entitled mother. I'd seen entitled people before, but I'd never faced a person until this case. The story takes place more or less a week before confinement in Spain (March 9); a few weeks before I turning 21. It's transcribed from a WhatsApp audio that I sent to an acquaintance who knows about my relationship.

I don't consider myself a very pretty girl, in fact quite normal, but yes striking for my style. It's like a combination between goth and when Edward Scissorhands was put on a shirt and pants with suspenders. Only with long hair (around 70 cm, measuring 1'69), green eyes with dark circles, a murderous glance and a Slavic face, although not a model.

That day I went out with my partner to have a drink in some bar. We don't usually do it because of the age difference and because it would look bad in his work (he's a high school and -in my case when I was a student- baccalaureate teacher. He's a good teacher and many students love him, while he has coworkers who hate him and would take advantage of any excuse).

We sat for half an hour on the terrace of an almost empty cafe drinking coffee, and at some point a man came towards us. I'd seen him walk past next us with a woman (his mother), and sit on the same terrace, right in front of me with several separation tables. He stood in front of us, looking at us.

I looked at my partner, thinking that maybe he was a graduate student of his. I couldn't say if he would be older than me; he was tall and big, he even had a short beard, but I've met guys like him who seem to be 25 but 16 years old.

P - Partner.

MS - Man, son of EM.

EM - Entitled Mother.

P: Is something wrong, boy?

MS, after waking up from a kind of trance: Oh, hi. I would like to take advantage of the opportunity and ask your daughter to go out -he looks at me and I put my "if you come closer you will be left without an arm" gaze-. I would like to exchange numbers... and that, maybe meet someday.

I was a little surprised, but I was funny about "asking your daughter out." I looked at my partner and he gave me a look that I should answer and, besides, he was also laughing and needed to see how it went on.

Me: Ehm... No.

MS: What? Why?

Me, trying not to frown: Because not, I don't need an explanation.

MS: But -then he looked at my partner and muttered before going back to his table-... Okay.

I don't like that they enter me, but if they're kind it's bearable. And I could still say the couple of balls you must have to ask a girl who goes with her "father" for that, the problem is when they start to insist or sound desperate.

The man returned to his table and my partner was joking a little about what had just happened, but soon we returned to the topic of conversation. Occasionally I noticed something strange at the other table and when I took a look, it seemed to me that the mother was looking towards us, but I thought it was my imagination. About fifteen minutes later, my partner came in to pay (I like to pay mine, but he always insists) and I took the opportunity to quickly see my mobile's notifications. Then, I heard a kind of sigh-growl.

Next to the chair he occupied, was that short woman, possibly over the age of 40 and (incredibly similar to the "Karen" stereotype) with short blond hair, pulled back into a small ponytail.

EM: Why have you rejected my son? -A bit confused, I looked around looking for that boy, but he was nowhere-.

Me: Sorry, what did you say?

EM in a tone of theatrical superiority, with its separations between words: Why have you rejected my son? He has come very politely to ask you if you would be his girlfriend and you have rejected him.

Me: Not really, he asked me to go out and I said no. I don't even know who you are.

EM: Did you not understand? He has bothered going here to ask if you would be his girlfriend. You could have a little respect for him.

Me: Well, I didn't hit him, I just rejected him.

EM: Right, sure. I have seen how you have been laughing at him. Surely it was your father who said to reject him.

(Actually, I don't know what conclusion they draw that my partner is my father. We aren't physically alike.)

Me: No one can decide who I date. Also, I already have a partner, he's... -I looked inside the cafe, but he was not there, so I assumed he went to the bathroom-.

EM: I have been looking at you, you would be a good wife, my son is a good man. Surely that boyfriend of yours doesn't exist, you just made it up.

Me, getting up to start leaving: Ma'am, I don't know you. Stop bothering me. If your son is looking for a girlfriend, download Tinder or some of that shit.

EM: How dare you disrespect (I don't know if she refers to herself or her son)!? So from those pervert pages you get all your boyfriends?

I don't know what my face should be like at the time, I was about to laugh all over his face. Besides, surely many people were watching us as they passed: Ma'am, leave it now.

M: Not until you accept my son. He will educate you to be a good wife. I want grandchildren...

Well, that's when I saw my partner come out of the cafe and walk over to me while taking out a cigarette.

P: New friend?

Me: No...

EM: Sir! I know you told this one to reject my son.

P: What?

EM: But I won't allow disrespect for my son or me. Besides being ill-educated, she's a cheeky one; she has confessed that she is dating several men at once from those pervert pages.

P: Yes? -He eyed me suggestively as he tried to hold back his laughter-. Don't tell me.

EM: Yes, I have reason to believe that she have been bringing men into your home and charging for it.

I was freaking out at that point, my partner opened his eyes wide in surprise as the mother crossed her arms looking at me with a superior smile. He looked at me and hugged me around the waist.

P: Wow, don't tell me it's just the price of coffee? Or do I have a discount?

I slapped him on the chest as I put an arm around his shoulders and giggled: It also discounts the times I spend at your house, the movies, the books and the perfume you wear.

We kiss quickly, but not as much as that mother changing skin tone and expression. Her skin paled almost like mine, and her face was between awe and dread so great that she could barely scream before turning and leaving quickly.

We also left. Not that we will attract more attention.