The Astrologer and the Harbinger

"Brownie mix?"

sorry for the late update 😭

rich asshole

rich asshole: Since we already decided to do a bake sale on Monday, do you want to bake the baked goods on Sunday, together?

rich asshole: If you have free time, I mean.

sure :mona

i'll buy the materials :mona

we should make brownies :mona

rich asshole: We can meet at my house, since I have the bigger kitchen.

fine :mona

i'll meet you there at 1 :mona

Mona huffed and put down her phone. It looked like she was going to have to engage in conversation with Scaramouche. Again.

---

"Hello," Mona said, her voice duller than usual as Scaramouche opened the door.

"Why so sad?" Scaramouche teased, ushering her inside his gigantic house. Mona couldn't help but marvel at the size again. "Girls are usually a little more impressed by me,"

"I somehow doubt that very much," Mona shot back, lifting bags of baking materials onto the counter. "I bet you probably paid someone to say that."

"I'm definitely rich enough to, but someone as attractive as me wouldn't have to stoop so low." Scaramouche feigned hurt, bringing a hand to his chest. His eyes sparked invitingly, sweeping over Mona's face, resting on her mouth for a fraction longer. 

"Nobody thinks you're attractive, least of all me," Mona deflected, turning to the counter to unpack the baking materials, and hide her blush. She heard Scaramouche shift behind her, placing his hands on the counter, on the sides of her waist. His breathe teased her ear, ghosting along the shell.

"Are you sure about that?" Scaramouche whispered, the pine and silver smell overwhelming Mona entirely. She whipped around, face flaming, about to tell him off, when the look on his face stopped her.

Scaramouche was smirking invitingly, eyes dancing across her face, lower. Mona's breath caught in her throat, stopping what she had been about to say. His hands slipped closer, one finger barely brushing the top of Mona's thigh. Her focus narrowed to that point, practically begging Scaramouche to continue, go higher, move closer. 

"We should, ah, start baking," Mona turned back around quickly, feeling her face go red. How embarrassing. A boy barely touched Mona and she turned into noodles, practically. And even worse, it had to be Scaramouche doing the touching.

"Brownie mix?" Scaramouche said, a lilt of amusement in his voice as he lifted out of the boxes. 

"I- I don't really know how to make brownies from scratch," Mona admitted, slightly embarrassed. She had always sucked at cooking, usually getting others to do it for her, or buy her food.

Scaramouche laughed, and opened the box. Mona pulled on one of her pigtails nervously.

"It's okay, neither do I." He began pulling out bowls and mixers, shooting a disarming smile at Mona. 

"Right, well, we'll just follow what it says on the box," Mona blushed, pointing at the cardboard box. 

---

"Okay, and now we're supposed to put the brownie batter in the pans," Scaramouche read off of the box. 

Several failed attempts at brownie-making later, they were finishing up the last batch. Mona was exhausted, and her hair and apron were dusted with flour from one particularly disastrous attempt. Scaramouche still looked as flawless as ever, much to Mona's annoyance. 

"Wait, maybe we should test the batter before baking it." Scaramouche said, putting a hand on Mona's wrist. She flushed, sweeping her hand away. 

Mona dipped a finger into the brownie batter and licked it off, the tip of her tongue darting out. She looked up and was startled by Scaramouche watching her with an intense look in his eyes that one definitely did not get from brownie batter alone. His eyes darkened, honey gold sparking within. 

"Ah, fuck it." Scaramouche whispered. Mona blinked and his mouth was on hers, pressing and pushing with urgency. Mona gasped, her lips parting in surprise, and Scaramouche took the opportunity to push his tongue inside.

Mona felt like she was drowning inside, her sense being flooded with Scaramouche. Confidently, she put a hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer. They were so close, too close. Scaramouche tasted like chocolate and mint. Mona thought she would never get enough of it.

Scaramouche's hand drifted along her waist, making Mona inhale sharply at the sudden touch. His hands lifted her up onto the counter, positioning him between her legs without ever breaking the kiss. Mona ran her hand through his hair, savoring how soft it felt.

This was wrong. Mona hated Scaramouche, and he hated her too. Mona drew back, her lips feeling pink and sensitive. She put a hand on Scaramouche's chest, ignoring the heartbeat racing underneath her palm. Pushing him away, Mona slid off the countertop, less gracefully than she would have liked.

"S-sorry about that," Mona stuttered, wrapping her arms around herself. She avoided looking at Scaramouche, in case he would see her flushed face.

"Nothing, it's okay." Scaramouche ran a hand through his hair, ears pink. "Um, we should, continue."

This was the first time Mona had ever heard Scaramouche stutter. Normally, he was completely confident, unwilling to give up his charming facade. Not that Mona thought Scaramouche was charming, of course.

---

"Bye!" Mona called over her shoulder, ponytails blowing in the wind. She and Scaramouche had prepared all the brownies sufficiently, ignoring their, ah, incident. Mona blushed thinking about it, the way Scaramouche had moved his lips against hers, the way he tasted, like chocolate and silver. 

No. Mona had to stay focused on her end goal, which was not to date Scaramouche. But really, sometimes, Mona thought maybe she could have her cake, and eat it too.

sorry for the shorter chapter but they kissed so i hope it was like ❤️ and not 🤬 iyk :))