#I was so happy to get to consult my dumb little notebook with all the watch notes in it

[poorlittleyaoyao]

Didn't want to derail that last post since it's specifically about novel canon, but it got me thinking about the ramifications of the changes that the drama makes:

CQL Mianmian is a Jin disciple. I like this change overall because it facilitates her being a larger part of the narrative and implies that Jin Zixuan has a life outside of being That Rich Guy Wei Wuxian Hates. Still, as is also the case with Meng Yao and Lan Xichen due to them meeting earlier, it means that Jin Zixuan is defending someone already dear to him rather than protecting a stranger simply because it's the right thing to do. Don't shrug off his heroism yet, though, because...

A nameless Jin disciple is the one who tries to hand over Mianmian. Jin Zixuan (and only Jin Zixuan) strikes him down and says in disgust that he can't believe the Jin clan contains such cowards, or something like that. However, Mianmian herself reminds Jin Zixuan when they're giving up their swords that they're under orders from their sect leader to comply with whatever the Wen clan asks of them. Jin Zixuan's choice to defend Mianmian is potentially in defiance of his father's directive. (Why is Jin Zixuan willing to disobey his dad here but stays awkwardly silent during his family's BS at the Phoenix Mountain hunt and conference later on? Well, his dad's not in the room with him here.)

Su She is not involved here, as Lan Wangji is the sole representative from Gusu Lan. The selfishness/cowardice of trying to feed Mianmian to a monster is replaced with his (more socially unacceptable in-universe but IMO more sympathetic to the viewer) revealing the Cold Pond Cave secret. There aren't any Lans standing by as nobody but Lan Wangji does the right thing.

The hostages generally show a lot of solidarity! After Wen Chao punts Wei Wuxian deeper into the cave, everyone else climbs down after him. None of them responds to Wen Chao shouting questions from up above, forcing the Wen guards to climb down to their level to investigate. The Jin guy attacking Mianmian is an outlier, indicating a problem with Lanling Jin culture rather than the jianghu as a whole. They cooperate well when it's time to band together and escape!

So the takeaway in CQL canon isn't that everyone is a coward or overly concerned with politics except for the protagonist, his love interest, and Jin Zixuan for some reason, but more like... here are these young people and future leaders who are fully capable of acting together for the good of the group. They refuse to comply with their captors despite being unarmed, and they'll convince the older generation to take action against the Wen clan. (Nie Mingjue, the only sect leader who's part of the younger generation without an older relative's influence, has already been in open conflict with them.) And isn't it a shame, then, that Jin Guangshan--and his sect culture that would've excused feeding one of his own disciples to a demon turtle--is going to crush all of this.

*I initially assumed, when I started making this post, that Cloud Recesses in the novel gets burned after the indoctrination in retaliation for Lan Wangji's part in killing the Xuanwu of Slaughter. But the wiki timeline has the indoctrination still coming after Cloud Recesses is attacked? If that's the case, how do the Lan have that many disciples to send?

[stevethehairington]

max has no interest in dnd at all.

she thinks it’s stupid, tells lucas allll the time how ridiculous it is, pretending to be some made up thing with pointed ears, a weird name no one can even pronounce, and an outdate stick to swing at some imaginary monster. she doesn't get how that's fun.

she denies dustin’s requests for her to join every time, and she makes fun of mike mercilessly for giving one of his characters a tail.

that all changes, though, when eddie steps into the picture. 

it starts when max goes barging into eddie’s trailer one day, bored and melting in her room and looking for something to do.

she knows that the munson’s don’t really lock their door, not often anyways, and not really if anyone’s home, and max abuses that knowledge as much as she can, always coming and going as she pleases. she knows eddie and wayne don’t mind, though �� the “you’re welcome anytime” pass they’d both given her is another thing she takes advantage of far too much.

so she doesn’t really feel too guilty when she simply crosses the short distance between their yards and lets herself in, slamming the door loud enough to let anyone inside know they have company now.

she finds eddie’s sitting, cross legged, in the middle of the sofa, papers and drawings and books of all sizes and breadths spread out around him in a messy array. he’s hunched over a leatherbound notebook, scribbling furiously into the pages, only looking away when he needs to consult one of the drawings or flip the page in a book, and even then his gaze is always fleeting, darting back and forth quickly. he either doesn’t hear max come in (unlikely) or he doesn’t care to acknowledge her yet, too sucked up into his own world (ding ding ding). 

he only pauses when max finally stops at the other side of the coffee table, kicks the leg, and goes “hey, what are you doing?”

“what’s it look like i’m doing, red?” eddie snaps back, flourishing an arm at his surroundings.

“why do you think i asked, dipshit?” she bites back, and she’s the only one of them brave enough to call eddie names like that. (she’s the only one that can get away with it too.)

eddie fixes her with a look that says touche, and taps the end of his pencil against the notebook. his messy scrawl fills nearly half the page. “i’m putting together a new campaign,” he tells her.

max scrunches up her nose at that. “for your dumb game?” she asks.

eddie narrows his eyes at her. “one of these days you’re going to eat your words, red,” he tells her. 

max rolls her eyes. eddie’s been trying to get her to join in on one of their sessions, too — a oneshot, he called it, she thinks. something shorter, a way for her to dip her toes in. but not even a shorter version of it sounded appealing to max, and she was plenty happy here on dry land. 

“when that day comes, i’ll eat my hat too,” max snorts.

eddie’s mouth quirks up at the corners. “you’re not wearing a hat,” he tells her, and his grin grows.

max just gives him an unimpressed look. eddie turns back to his notebook.

rather than leaving and continuing her search for entertainment elsewhere (which, surely she could find, considering this is only her first stop on the long list of options she has), max lowers herself to the floor next to the coffee table. she leans back against the foot of the armchair, brings her knees up to her chest, and curls her arms around them. she settles her chin against her knee and watches eddie as he works.

after a while, her attention strays to the books on the table. the one closest is opened to a detailed sketch of something called an astral chimera — something large and twoheaded, with a flowing mane, black and white tiger stripes down it’s flank, and great big goat hooves. the faces and feet and tail are bright blue. curiosity gets the best of her, and she slowly lifts her hand to the table, stretches out one little fingertip to rest against the edge. she spares a sidelong glance over at eddie to make sure he’s still focused on his notebook and not her, and she tentatively pulls the book closer. leans over the pages a little more. starts to read.

eventually, she slips the book off of the coffee table and into her lap.

she doesn’t even realize that eddie’s stopped writing and is watching her with pursed lips and something shining in his eye until he clears his throat to get her attention.

max’s head snaps up, and she feels her face burn.

eddie doesn’t comment yet, just eyes the book in her lap and raises a single eyebrow. 

“what?” max asks, jutting her chin out, defensive. “i was bored.”

“mhmm,” eddie hums, and he doesn’t say anything else, but he looks so damn smug and it is infuriating.

max just takes a page out of his book and flips him the bird before going back to the book, grumpy expression on her face.

eddie returns to his writing.

at some point a little while later, eddie huffs. a few seconds pass and he huffs again. when he huffs for the third time, max looks up. his fingers are wound into his hair, close to the roots, and he’s tugging on it. max can feel the frustration vibrating off of him.

“what?” she asks, and that catches his attention.

eddie chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, contemplating. he doesn’t usually like sharing any part of his campaigns with anyone — dnd unenthusiasts included. 

but in a surprising twist, he starts to explain his predicament — except it’s sort of right in the middle of things, so he ends up having to start from the beginning. he lays out everything he has for the campaign so far. she’s pretty sure he’s never done that for anyone else before.

when he catches up to where he’s stuck he tells her that he can’t figure out a good creature to include to keep the story interesting and act as a good challenge to the group.

“what about the magic tiger goat thing?” max asks, purposefully not using it’s actual name. “the thing with two heads,” she adds for clarity, though she knows that eddie doesn’t need it. he recognizes her suggestion as soon as she makes it.

“an astral chimera?” he asks. pauses. taps the end of his pencil against his lips. contemplates.

max doesn’t say anything, just lets him think. 

but then his mouth stretches into a grin. “that’s good, red, that’s good,” he tells her, and jots it down in his notebook. 

it continues on like that for the next little while. whenever eddie gets stuck again, or if he wants an opinion, or if he needs to do a little brainstorming, he’ll grab max’s attention and get her talking.

max indulges him, offers him suggestions, tells him when something sounds lame, does her best to apply the little dnd knowledge she does have (from both the pages she’s read today and the bits and pieces she’s gathered from the rest of the party as they discuss their characters and battle plans and whatnot outside of campaign nights).

and the stupid thing is, max is kind of having fun.

“max mayfield: writing a dnd campaign — who’d ‘a thunk?” eddie laughs.

“that is not what i’m doing,” max says, but even she knows that isn’t true.

because by the time all is said and done, this new campaign is just as much max’s as it is eddie’s. which. yeah. that sure is something.

max kind of forgets about it until a few weeks later eddie beams at her and tells her how big of a hit the latest campaign was. sits her down over a bowl of rocky road ice cream (that suddenly seems to be always stocked in eddie’s freezer ever since she mentioned offhand that it was her favorite) and gives her a play by play of how everything went down. she feels a little bit proud when eddie tells her how cool the rest of the party thought the astral chimera was.

after that, it sort of keeps happening. eddie will call max to get her opinion on random scenarios he’s contemplating using. she’ll come around for dinner and she’ll toss out npc suggestions to eddie while she helps wayne clean the dishes. she even borrows a few of eddie’s dnd manuals to flip through when she gets really bored.

she becomes a stronger collaborator in the campaigns, even pitches a few of her own ideas to eddie.

and, like, she doesn’t hate it. she actually, sort of kind of (really) likes it. she might even call it fun. not that she would ever in a million years admit any of that to anyone. not even eddie (though, he can clearly see for himself how much she likes it).

max is still adamant that she won’t actually play though. she’s perfectly content to help eddie write the campaigns and leave the nerdy roleplaying and to the boys and erica.

but yeah. turns out dnd isn’t as stuid as max thought it was. 

turns out, she kind of is interested in it after all.

[purplesurveys]

1152

survey by emptyspaces

What song reminds you of being in middle school? Patron Tequila was a huuuuuuuuuge bop in 5th grade, and I can tell you too many kids who were too young for the song nevertheless vibed hard to it. Down by Jay Sean also reminds me of mid-elementary school. I believe both have so far been one-hit wonders, lol.

What was the first thing you learned how to cook? I don’t cook cook, but I remember we had one day in like preschool when we were taught how to make homemade pizza. That was the first dish I remember making. We used white bread for the crust and topped it with tomato sauce, grated cheese, and sliced hotdogs. I ended up liking the ‘recipe’ a lot and frequently asked my aunt or grandma to make it for me.

What does your hair currently look like? It’s slightly damp since I took a shower a couple of hours ago, and it’s currently styled in a low side ponytail.

Who's the worst driver you know? It’s been years since I’ve been in a car where my uncle was in charge of the wheel, but I would always end up feeling nauseous whenever he was the one driving. I never figured out why, but my best bet is because he tends to press hard on the brakes. I also don’t trust anyone who’s fine with being way too close to other cars.

What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? I live in a residential area where there are approximately 0 wild animals roaming around lol. I do have some neighbors who keep chickens, but that’s as wild as it gets over here.

Does it take a lot to make you cry? Nah. Just show me a stereotypical emotional video, like anything to do with grandparents or pets reuniting with their owners, and I’ll produce some tears for you in seconds.

If the last dream you had came true, would that be a good or bad thing? Bad. I was relieved when I finally woke up.

Have you ever had a lucid dream? No. I’ve tried doing it before but just could never get in the zone.

How long did your last car ride last? Something like 20 minutes. The mall isn’t that far away and most of the travel was because our house is way too far from the village’s entrance.

Isn't it disgusting when people chew with their mouth open? I mean c'mon... It’s icky but I have other worse pet peeves.

What's your most prominent memory from 2009? I used to keep this journal where all of my entries were of me roleplaying in the Twilight universe. Obviously it’s embarrassing to think of now, but I must’ve written quite well back then because my classmates loved reading it and used to pass it around during recess and lunch hahaha. That was my only successful stint in fiction writing ever. I know the notebook is still around somewhere, but I refuse to see even just the outside; too much cringe lol.

Do you think there will ever be world peace? A little pessimistic answer but no.

What's your biggest problem at the moment? A client was supposed to send us this file that I needed so I can proceed with a deliverable that we were asked to do today, but he never followed through. That’s fine by me since executions get moved all the time, but it also means he’ll probably send it sometime during the Holy Week break and I’ll have to work during one of my days-off this week. -__-

Has anyone ever told you you're too emotionally needy? I don’t think so. If someone has it would most likely stick with me.

Has an ex ever told you that they want you back? Nope. She has an infinite amount of pride in her bones for her to do that.

Have you ever turned down a job offer? I have never had to, and so far I’ve only been the one turned down haha. Joke’s on them; I’m super happy with the job I’ve landed.

What's the longest hospital stay you've had? For what? I’ve only had to be confined once and that was just an overnight stay. It was a dengue scare but turned out to be just a low platelet count.

Do you know anyone who doesn't know the basics of using a computer? My maternal grandma refuses to learn anything that’s got to do with modern technology, and I suuuper doubt she’d be able to figure out how to turn on a laptop or computer.

What was the last snack you ate? I was feeling hungry earlier and had a bite of this guava chip that my workplace had sent over as a care package; but it tastes super healthy and blech and I felt like I deserved something more junk food-y for finishing off the work week haha. Now I’m having KFC delivered at 1 AM :(((

What's something really basic that you're terrible at? Lighting up a matchstick. I’m scared of fire and I always ask my dad to be the one to light up my scented candles every single time.

Is it just me, or are tv shows/movies getting to be really dumbed down? No. Different generations, different tastes catered. I also think I’ve answered this survey before because I remember saying that I actually appreciate how content these days are more inclusive and open about tackling sensitive issues. That’s the complete opposite of ‘dumbed down’ to me.

Do you know any same-sex married couples? Finding one in the Philippines is like looking for a needle in a haystack, but yeah I happen to know a couple of couples. They probably handled all the paperwork in the US, but still. I’m glad their family is able to thrive here.

What was the last appointment you scheduled? It was a telemedicine consultation. I didn’t need it, but one of our clients recently partnered with this telehealth service and they wanted someone from the agency to use a free trial so we can have a better idea of what the service offers. I was the sacrificial lamb (lmao) and so I had to have this quick video call with one of their doctors. That was the first instance I was glad to have scoliosis because it gave me something to talk about, because otherwise I would be completely lost on what to consult about.

Are you happy with the person you have become? Getting there :) I definitely don’t have as many self-loathing moments than I used to just a few months ago.

What year were you born? 1998.

What does your favorite watch look like? I don’t have one; I don’t use watches as I will probably lose them in like a month anyway.

Did you have one of those Tamagotchi things as a kid? Yeah, but I personally didn’t get the hype and quickly went back to my other toys.

What's your favorite kind of wine? Sweeter ones. I can’t stand bitter wine.

When was the last time you felt lonely? Last Sunday. I was talking to Angela and Andi more excessively than usual that day; and it was most likely the quarantine getting to me. Even though they reassure me that I’m not being too clingy or annoying I still feel like I am, so that day made me rethink and reflect about ways to expand my circles and gain new friends.

Are your parents still together? Yeah, I literally just got them their KFC orders like 10 minutes ago.

Have you ever been so broke you didn't know how you'd keep a roof over your head? I’m thankful to have never been in this position.

Do you know anyone who believes that vaccines cause autism? Possibly. But at least they’re smart enough to keep their mouth shut about it.

What was the last piece of furniture you bought? OMG OMG OMG I *literally* just received it this afternoon but I finally bought a cute lil night lamp for my room :> :> Hahahaha I’ve spent my last four employed months spending on nothing but food, but I decided to switch it up a bit and finally purchase something that won’t be gone the next day, hence the lamp. Not really furniture, but still. It’s the cutest thing ever and it’s currently lighting up my room really prettily!!!

What's a new skill you'd like to learn? Climbing.

How did you celebrate your last birthday? It was the peak of the pandemic when the entire world was still scrambling to figure out how to handle it, so all stores were closed and no one could go out. I barely remember what had happened since that day just flew by, but I do recall that Angela had a box of sushi delivered to my place.

Do you have any great housecleaning tips? Not really.

What's your favorite cocktail? Zombie.

Did your favorite movie come out before or after you were born? Way before I was born; it’s 31 years older than me.

Is there anything you need to do before the end of the day? Nope.

[itsmattsunshinehere]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a scenario with matsukawa and a shy reader? They get paired up for a project and matsukawa has never spoken to her bc she’s always quiet but as he gets to know her, he finds out she’s actually really funny bc she sends memes and they eventually fall in love 🤧 abit cliche but I’d love it 👉🏼👈🏼

Of course I can! I love Mattsun, so I’m always happy to write something with my sweet angel :)

I didn’t know how to put memes so there aren’t any BUT actually there are some nerdy jokes (wich I adore), like really really bad jokes. I kinda have the feeling Matsukawa only know these lmao, he’s dumb (BUT WE LOVE HIM). I hope it’s okay for you, please don’t hate me.

Thanks for your request, hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A Change of Heart.

Matsukawa Issei x reader

synopsis: Matsukawa has never spoken to you, but something changes after you two being paired together for a school project.

word count: 2.1 K

tags: fluff

~~~

Matsukawa Issei. Of all the possible people, he was the last of your classmates you thought you could be paired with for group project. You don't have any problems with him, you don't find him annoying or anything else, it’s just that sometimes you forget about the presence of some of your classmates, Matsukawa included: you are a shy girl and you almost never talk during lessons; you often get distracted thinking about your own business, it is normal for you to not notice the people you don’t talk to, even more if they tend to be as quite as you.

On his side, even Issei hasn’t noticed you, too busy sleeping a few desks away from you: the night before he went to bed late, staying up until one o'clock only to play computer games with some friends.

Anyway, he's your science project partner and you can't do anything about it, even if you prefer to work alone and organize everything to your liking all by yourself, you'll have to collaborate with him and as you, even the guy agrees that for the sake of your GPA it will be essential to try to get along and cooperate. That's why at the end of the class, before your math teacher arrives, your project partner comes to your desk.

"Good morning Matsukawa-san." You greet him shyly, his height puts you slightly in awe, you’ve never noticed how tall he actually is.

"’Morning Y/N-san, apparently we are project companions." He replies to you yawning a little distracted, without looking too sure on what he’s saying; you get the impression that he would like to have been paired with someone else, probably one of his friends, but you try not to pay too much attention to your thoughts.

"Yes, that's correct." You nod looking at him again with a patient smile on your lips.

"I thought that maybe we could exchange our phone numbers to organize on what to do and when to see each other." The boy still keeps his eyes away from yours not looking at you but rather looking up at two of your classmates who are throwing a ball just a few feet from you. You smile at him once more and take your agenda, ripping off a sheet, and after writing some numbers, you give it to him.

"Here to you, I am almost always free every afternoon after six. How about starting in two days, maybe this Wednesday? Is it okay for you?" you ask him, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, as if he were consulting his own agenda mentally, the boy in front of you nods and after greeting you, he turns back to his desk.

You didn't think there were people quieter than you. Or maybe he thinks you’re boring. But what could you have done to him to make you so annoying? You put aside your bad thoughts and focus on the rest of the lessons, more concerned about your grades than the idea that your partner has of you. Of course, sometimes you tend to have no self-esteem, not trusting you’re decisions, but having never spoken to him, he has no reason to hate you, so you don't worry too much about what he might think of you.

But while you don't care about his thoughts, Issei can't say the same for himself: he's curious about what kind of girl you are, what a hobby you have... Why are you only free after six?? Are you in any club? Would you like to go to college? Are you moving to Tokyo next year as most of your classmates? He'd like to ask you so many questions, you intrigue him in a certain way, and he can't deny that you're a pretty girl. He finds adorable how you carry the pencil on your lips every time you stare at the sky out the window.

The two days pass fast, and from Monday you are almost immediately to Wednesday afternoon in the library, you waiting for him at the table on the corner and he who has to run because, due to Oikawa and his obsession with improving the whole team’s service, he is definitely late. The boy looks out the door of the room and rushes you to a table near the windows, listening to music with headphones in your ears and studying some subject. He joins you, slowing down the pace trying not to make any noise.

"Y/N-san." He calls you whispering, but you don't hear him, which is why he tries to get your attention by touching your arm as he sits by your side and you gasp surprised, causing him to giggle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." You look at the boy with a gentle smile, moving your hand and telling him that he doesn’t have to worry.

“It's nothing, I was doing chemistry homework for tomorrow, but I can't calculate the reaction and find the name of this binary salt.” You say giving up your homework, changing the page of the book and taking the section assigned to you for your work.

"You know chemists are great solving problems? They have all the solutions." Matsukawa replay with a smile, taking your notebook and looking at what you've written.

"I tried telling a chemistry joke once, but I got no reaction." You watch the boy with a grin as Matsukawa lifts his head up surprised, definitely not expecting a joke from you, but you instead look at him laughing at his expression and Matsukawa gives you a sincere smile chuckling.

Time passes quickly as you organize your project and decide what and how to expose it to your classmates. You divide your work and begin your research together, each one giving his own contribution to the other, to try to make it better and giving a sense to what you are doing. When you look at the phone you realize that it is now seven and a half o'clock in the evening and you inform your project partner, who nods and you two begin to pick up your books. Matsukawa is faster than you, so waits for you at the library entrance.

"Y/N-san, I wanted to ask you a question." He tells you while he’s walking by your side, and you can't help but think about how many centimeters there are between you two. You nod kindly with your head.

"How come you never talk? You're funny." He asks you a little hesitantly, and you think for a second about what to answer. You don't know that either, it's not that you don't have any friends, it’s just that you're not the kind of person who starts a conversation. You have no problem talking to others, you just don't like to take the first step.

"Sorry, maybe I was too rude." Matsukawa says softly, worried that he has maybe offended you in some way, but you shake your head with a smile, trying to make him understand that he didn't do anything wrong.

"No don't worry. I can't give you an answer, I think it's just my character. I'm a very shy girl and I tend to stand all by myself, but I've never had a problem talking to people. Once I know someone, I have no problem opening up." you answer him by giving him yet another smile of the day.

Matsukawa looks at you as you walk past him and reach the school gate: part of him that morning had been convinced that he would be bored with you, he felt like you were a serious person, unable to make jokes or something similar. Yet you have happily surprised him, showing a side of your character that you keep secret and that maybe you only show to your closest friends. He feels a bit special.

You reach the gate and you greet him by according to meet at Friday at the same time and so on the following Monday, ending up meeting on those three days every week throughout the entire month, in the library at six in the afternoon.

It has become a habit for you, as well as exchanging messages, during lessons or in your free time. You start spending more and more time together, on lunch breaks you join Matsukawa with his friends in the school canteen, having fun joking with Hanamaki. Matsukawa feels that something has changed. He understands that he has started looking at you differently, seeing you always beautiful and always happy. He understands it from how he has started to notice details on your face; that little mole on your chin, how you tie your hair when you're focused on some math exercise.

A change in his heart.

He starts to think that yours are no longer just moments where you study, but that they are slowly evolving into something more intimate, much more like dating, where you joke and talk about anything. As you tell him how you would like to travel the world, he tells you about the few places he has visited abroad; while you talk to him about the reading club you're a part of, he tells you about his passion for volleyball and his dream of going to the Nationals tournament with his team. You unravel your secrets to each other, without fear, fully trusting each other.

Until one day, when Iwaizumi seeing him smiling atone of your message suggests him something, a particular idea that remains stuck in his head for days.

"You should ask her out." The ace tells him with conviction and the middle blocker looks at him doubtful, not too convinced that you may be interested in dating him.

"Definitely, you can’t take your eyes off her and you're always distracted. Push your pride aside and make the first move before someone takes her away from you." Hanamaki speaks by sitting on the bench next to him and taking a sip from his water bottle. Matsukawa bursts into laughter, though he can't deny that a certain annoying feeling has awakened in him. Maybe jealousy? Impossible, unless...?

The days pass and the date of the presentation of your project approaches, until you arrive at the last Friday before you have to expose your work in front of the whole class, Iwaizumi's words have not yet disappeared from Issei’s mind, as well as those of Hanamaki. What if someone realizes what a beautiful person you are and asks you out? Maybe he should make a move, or maybe they just told him to annoy him... he walks through the corridors until you reach the library that you have been frequented for just over a month. He sees you sitted in your usual place with the usual headphones in your ears and the usual chemistry notebook under your eyes.

He comes near you, moving the chair next to you and sitting to your right and you as always don't even notice him, too caught up in what you're doing. He touches your arm and as always you gasp, quickly turning towards him, while Matsukawa giggles for your reaction. You tongue out and punch him on his shoulder.

"You know you scare my Issei!" you scold him while once again the boy next to you takes your notebook and looks at what's wrong with your equations, remembering when few minutes before you text him that you couldn't do anything.

"Here you go. You miscalculated." Matsukawa answers by giving you back your notebook.

"Forget hydrogen, you're my number one element!" you smile him while he giggles a bit.

"Oh, it's that time of the day where we tell each other stupid chemistry jokes?" he asks you chuckling and you nod happily.

"Well I hope you love science, because tonight we are going to have a chemical reaction." The boy immediately answers you and you can't hold back a laugh, getting the attention of the last remaining students that like you are study and the librarian, who throws you glances from behind her desk. Embarrassed, you apologize and look over Matsukawa, while the boy has a sip of water.

"How about you ask me out first?" you whisper him, blushing instantly, and the boy almost chokes with water and begins coughing, while you try to help him, this time you're the one giggling for the other’s reaction.

Once calmed down, Matsukawa looks up at you, as red as you. Did you really say that? He tries to think of what to answer quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

"There’s a Cafe where they make delicious pancakes." He proposes you embarrassed and you look at him happy, beginning to pick up your books under Matsukawa's eye.

"It’d be amazing." You stand up slowly, sticking your hand out with a smile. Matsukawa copies your movements and gets up taking his backpack. He squeezes your hand with a wink.

“Let’s go.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @flynnifox!

The prompt by @flynnifox:

I really like soulmates, and please fluff as it's christmas, coffee shop au's are also great, I like wolf Derek, werewolves are known, all the AU's, did I say please fluff? I totally love slow burn, kissing, nipping, scentmarking, sassy Derek, sassy Stiles, Alpha Derek, having to share a bed, snow, ice-skating

Here's to hoping that I blended these elements together in a satisfying manner that captures the soulmates + scents + sass + fluffy adorableness. Most of that brought by Derek's red eartips (because he's embarrassed so frequently).

Read on AO3

*****

Chocolate and Notebooks

Stiles pulls his eyes from the road, taking a glance at the clock as the trees zip past in the dark and chilly evening. One glance at the clock confirms his suspicions.

"It's 5:43 in the morning and this is a very dumb time to be driving through unfamiliar territory." He tilts his head, as if considering an argument. "And yet, we're perfectly safe because the shields are up and the path is true." His head cocks to the other side. "And yet, we are definitely feeling sleepiness come on." He hopes the next town is near, and avoids the part of his mind that would happily confirm for him that he's getting closer to his destination.

Built-in GPS is a great tool for a spark, but it can take the mystery and adventure out of life if he indulges the spark too much. And despite what others might say, he's not entirely convinced that there isn't a limited amount of magic available to any one person or to all beings and he feels responsible for not flaunting his magic with every waking moment.

"Beacon Hills: Next two exits" reflects back at him in bright white text on a shiny green background. The name sounds like an omen. A good one he hopes, and a town with a good little history, he double-hopes. Can't be too careful when there are many town that are just full of weird and sometimes bad things. Hunters are less likely to come make a mess in a peaceful town than they are in one with a reputation for trouble. Beacon Hills is, as far as he dimly recalls, not a name that's appeared in association with anything terrible in the last many years. He and whatever supernaturals may be around should be fine, so long as nobody upsets the balance.

Which is exactly the problem: The spark that constitutes the magical expression of Stiles is actually very interested in mischief. Supremely interested in making some things very much tougher for Stiles, and he tries to remind himself it's also done a lot of good for him over the years. A nudge here to take this turn, and a thought of just stopping and waiting somewhere on the sidewalk for a minute can both lead to finding old friends and good times, or missing a falling chunk of the facade from some ancient brick building. He can't often tell ahead of time despite pleading with himself to make it work.

He's decided that Beacon Hills has to be a good place, with good WiFi and good coffee and all that stuff. Nature is also calling more insistently against his bladder and he really hopes there's someplace open this early with internet service and decent restrooms.

"If I find that nobody in this town is awake at this terrible hour, and that they haven't got decent WiFi, I'm going to write them a very bad review and hex their coffeemaker. There are standards for how these things should work and that last place was a disaster!"

Of the four diners in the last town, some eight hours ago down the highway that specifically avoids the big urban centers, he found no curly fries on any of the menus. They seemed completely unimpressed with the idea of tater tots and he considered hexing them in some way or other but ended up just snagging food from the hot case at a convenience store and busting a move out of town.

When the first exit for Beacon Hills comes up he passes without exiting. It seemed too wild, like it was a regional wildspace, or something. Maybe this was more of an industrial exit for logging and whatever else they do here. The next exit surely showed promise.

Quietly in the back of his mind, a tiny version of Leslie Nielsen's voice replied, "And don't call me Shirley."

Erica had been ready for several minutes. Derek's routine for how to open the store properly had been whittled down to just 12 minutes for the cleaning prep, six minutes to get all the food out and presentable, and another full minute just to go around and make sure everything was in order. Derek usually closed the shop up, but today claimed he was feeling restless and arrived before she had and was already bustling around.

"Derek, you pay me to worry about these things. Why are you even here?" She watched as Derek redid everything she had completed already so he could be sure it met his extremely specific standards that are in no way related to what actually makes customers happy. Well, he's the boss, so he can ask for what he wants, but she's going to do it the way she knows is best when he's back on his regular routine.

She hollers at him from the cafe's dining area while Derek is in the back organizing and cleaning things in the kitchen he'd definitely organized and cleaned the night before. "You should go run out in the preserve or something. You have too much energy to be in a confined space before 6 AM on this day or any day." Her supernaturally-enhanced hearing helped her catch every syllable in reply.

"I'm here because it's my place and I don't really need a reason to be here, now, do I? I can come whenever I like."

Erica smirked.

"Shut your pie-hole, Reyes, or I'm switching you to the lunch shift and giving your boyfriend the morning."

"He'll hate you for that."

"I'm the alpha. I can take it."

At Erica's snicker, Derek growls to himself. As the alpha, his hearing is even more enhanced, but he can also feel her perpetual sniggering through the pack bond. He tells himself he should be used to it by now but he just can't. Wolves aren't monsters, they need to behave in a respectable way.

"Are you lecturing me mentally on how wolves should behave respectably in polite society? I mean, I know these customers and though some of them are gems, some are definitely not polite and don't belong out in society."

"Erica," Derek says as he enters the room. "Keep it down. You don't want anyone to overhear you talking trash about others."

"It's three minutes to six and I'm going to open up."

"It's too early. We open at six. Don't mess with people's expectations."

"Anyone here this early is here because they have no expectations, just a demand for coffee, bossman. You really don't have anything to worry about."

Erica walks to the windows and turns the lights on in the displays. She admires the way the colorful borders around the windows twinkle in the early air. They cast bright splashes of light into the intersection, visible from any direction of the street. Derek does fine display work and has made a version of the town in a huge diorama lit with tiny LEDs in the windows of the shops and homes, and decorated with the tiniest versions of people Derek knows. Customers, family, random people who caught Derek's eye are all represented in some way in the display.

She thinks it's the softest, brightest, most wonderful thing Derek does and he pretends to everyone like it's no big deal. He's the most ridiculous rough-edged marshmallow-soft man she's ever met. When she told Boyd about it, he agreed with a knowing nod of his head before he returned to mixing beverages for the fine residents and visitors who came through the door.

The subtle change in the air alerted her to potential danger, and she spun around to catch Derek standing at the door, looking confused and surprised at the man standing there.

"Uhh, if you're not open, that's fine, but I really need to use a restroom. Can I come in anyway to take care of the call of nature? She's been really, really going hard these last few miles."

Erica's snort escapes unintended. The man at the door snaps to look at her and grins, holding a thumbs-up. He gives her a sort of look that says, "Is this guy broken?" and Erica replies with a look that yes, totally broken, and harmless.

"Hey, welcome to Beacon Hills! We're opening right now and the bathroom is right down there. Go for it."

The man exhales and seems to weaken for a moment before taking off at a fast walk between the chairs and to where Erica had pointed. "Close your mouth and the door, Derek. I hear the landlord hates when people waste energy heating the outside."

The door closes with a click at the same moment Derek's jaw slams shut. She watches him transform from bare surprise to guarded watcher in an instant. "Watch out. I didn't hear him at the door when I want to go put the mat out."

"You still have that in your hands, Derek." She looks at him as he seems to realize the truth. Derek opens the door and half throws it out, trusting it to land however it lands as Derek seems to listen to the back area.

"Are you listening to him pee?"

"No, I'm—" He flashes his eyes at her. There's a visceral reaction for any beta to the flashing of one's alpha's eyes, but Derek does it so often they've all become somewhat immune to the power of it all. Derek's mother warns him about overusing his strength when a simple word will do, and while Erica see's he's gotten better with her coaching of him, he's still got a long way to go before Talia's advice actually makes a solid difference for him. "I can't hear anything. Nothing at all."

"He's probably just shielded, Derek. There are a lot of good reasons for that, especially when traveling alone."

Derek is a good-hearted alpha, and he's young, but Beacon Hills has been stable for long enough that his parents leaving him in charge isn't a disaster. Talia and her husband are consulting for another pack in Idaho and Derek's putting his training to use at home. The pack in Idaho had lost their alpha and Emissary in an attack of some kind, and they some serious help getting back on track. The mission, as it were, will be for a couple of years, but they're not far away and so the territory isn't really at risk even if Derek has some trouble to deal with.

"I don't think he's a threat, Derek. He seems kind of fun.." Which Derek would have considered if he wasn't being totally weird about this guy.

"Anyone who can sneak up on us is a potential threat, Erica. I shouldn't have to remind you of that." Indeed, Erica flashed right back to the moment she and Boyd finally returned to the territory after having been abducted by a nutty grandpa hunter and his daughter.

"Yeah, but like you also said, we can't just go in being suspicious of everyone. What if he's one of the good ones? You're the guy in charge, so people need to know they can come to you. He's probably not even aware this is our territory."

"We can't know that."

"I can just ask him, dude." Derek looks at her with an expression of disgust. She's solid in her sense of this new guy and his not-at-all-threatening intentions. Whoever he may be, or whatever he may be, he's good people. And he's not a werewolf, so there's no direct threat there. Derek's had his heart broken and his trust trampled on extremely effectively, so he's far less willing to consider his instincts and defaults to threat mode whenever something both supernatural and unexpected comes around. She regards him for a moment.

"I think we'll be okay. I'll find out about him and you hang in the back and listen, okay?" She considers for a moment. "What do you think he likes to drink?"

"I have no idea," he mutters and heads to the back room. Derek's taking things down to DEFCON 3 from DEFCON 2, which seems like a mark in her favor. She's not his first beta, but she does seem to be able to get him to think about other stuff sometimes when other people can't. When anyone happens to notice she says it's her brilliant curls, but the blonde really does seem to get his concern in a way the rest of the pack don't. Except for Boyd, and he's too busy being silent to really help Derek so directly. She lets a smile fill her face and nods to herself. Derek is trusting them more. He's been training them hard, and it's working, and she sets herself to figuring out who the new guy is and what new guy is up to.

She forgets for a moment how weird he was when he opened the door.

Stiles throws his bag onto the bench in one of the high-backed booths with a good line of sight to both the counter and the entryway and heads to the counter.

"What can I get you?" Erica says in her warmest 6-am customer service voice.

"Well, I think I want a coffee, but I also need to sleep soon, so that's probably a bad idea. I mean, caffeine can put me to sleep if I have a little, but it's been a while since I've taken my medicine and my ADD is probably going to fight me for sleep if I don't indulge in some delicious beverage action."

Erica laughs. Stiles beams. "I'm here with the jokes, folks."

"Oh, yeah, I can tell that about you."

Too quietly for normal hearing she hears, "Ask him who he is!" in an urgent tone from the back. Erica rolls her eyes briefly, making sure the visitor doesn't see it. She growls subvocally.

"Welcome! Sorry you had such a weird first experience with my boss at the door. He's not normally a weirdo."

"Eh, I'm not worried. I'm plenty weird. But he is okay? I mean, he seemed kind of... surprised?" Somehow, in some manner she didn't interpret, she heard the meaning behind it. The boss seemed both surprised and actually afraid of something, and the new guy had picked up on it.

Erica beams. "Yeah, we get that all the time. Boss is a total weirdo." Derek growls in the back and sets something hard against the table.

Stiles glances in the back then makes eye contact with Erica. "Is he alright?" he mouths at her.

She shrugs her shoulders. She isn't about to explain the weirdness on display right now. Derek's never been like this before.

"I am not sure he slept at all last night. He normally works the closing shift. I'm here to open, but when he needs pre-dawn fun, I'm apparently the one he needs to hang around."

"Oh, really?" Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, not like that. I'm taken. Boyd's a really good guy and he's not into sharing."

Stiles had glanced again to the back room but that comment brings his full attention right back to her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to flirt! I am just like this all the time."

Erica leans back. "Hear that, Derek? He's like this all the time." She adopts a theatrical pose for a moment. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Erica, and that's Derek."

Stiles doesn't miss a beat. "I'm Stiles, and you're one of the betas, then? Is he the only alpha around? It seems a little..." Stiles seems to taste the air, sort of. Erica isn't sure how to describe the way he takes an open-mouthed whiff and kind of lets his eyes go blurry. "Oh, I see. Got it."

"What do you think you get, Stiles?" Erica says with a dash of suspicion. She'd heard Derek freeze in the kitchen, his heart racing now. She tries to be a cooler customer than her alpha and hopes that Stiles isn't offended. She's not really sure what a spark is, or what they do, but Derek's got an idea and it's shocked the hell out of him for whatever reason.

"Eeek, yeah, sorry! Sorry. I find I do this all the time, and usually on accident, if I haven't prepared ahead of time. I'm a Spark, and I'm really just here to find a quiet place to rest and drink something hot and warm. I'd like to write for a bit in the booth," he says, gesturing with a huge swing of his arm to the booth.

Erica nods at him. "I am pretty sure we can accommodate that request and we won't even have to do some paperwork for it," she makes a show of stage whispering, "Since my alpha is hiding in the back instead of greeting important guests like he's supposed to do."

This time the growl is clear to everyone. Erica smiles wickedly. "Alpha Hale, I believe you have some alpha-level responsibilities here with regard to our guest. Don't you think you should get out here and be polite?" She winks at Stiles, who returns the wink with a laugh he tries to stifle behind his fist.

Derek comes out and now Stiles looks at him without saying anything. He seems to close-off a bit, looking at the alpha in his black shirt and forest-green apron with the cafe's logo on it.

Erica notices the two of them and then grabs her phone from the counter and stepping out of the way.

"Stiles, you're welcome to be here. We have no restrictions against visitors," and by this Stiles heard between the words that the alpha meant. "of the supernatural variety." Stiles hadn't met an alpha so formal as this before. He mentally knocked his hand against his temple to try to recall proper protocols. He was not successful.

"Hello, Hale. I mean, alpha. Gah. This isn't going well. I don't do many formal introductions and I'm sorry to mess it all up. I hope you're not offended."

"No offense taken." Derek looks at the counter and then at Stiles. "Do you know what you'd like to have to drink this morning?"

"I hadn't decided that, though I imagine you already heard." Erica and Derek watch him as he catches himself glancing back. "And crap! I left my shields up without regard to any possible werewolf packs in the area. I'm sorry!" he said emphatically. "I would have taken them down in the parking lot if I'd have been thinking. It's been a long trip, and again, I—" he waves in the direction of the restrooms in the back and at that moment Erica and Derek both got a whiff of the spark without his protections. It took a moment to realize he was still talking.

"...distracted, on top of that, I've got ADD. You know how it goes? Wow, this probably explains why Alpha Hale had some trouble deciding what to do with me when I was at the door." Erica couldn't tell if Stiles noticed Derek was taking deep breaths, seemingly to scent him over and over again, which our staunch Alpha Hale never, ever does.

It was the, "You can call me Derek," said in a very warm and cozy tone that persuaded Erica to get the pack here. Whatever was going on needed witnesses, and she wanted to be sure someone else could verify this totally bizarre behavior by their alpha. Stiles didn't lie about being a spark, though if he were doing sexy mojo on the boss she doesn't know if she could tell. The scent of magic in the air happened only after he released the shield, and even hen he's been fading into the background. She snaps a picture of them with her phone and sent a broadcast message to the pack. Derek's phone vibrated, and he subconsciously pulled it out and put it on silent, no vibration, as he continued talking with Stiles.

Something is odd here, and Derek's doing things with his eyebrows that are perfectly adorable. Erica wants to find out what's going on, and she wants witnesses. While Derek and Stiles worked out the beverage order for a specialty hot chocolate, Stiles had also talked himself into a muffin and some veggie snacks. She's been providing summary notes to the pack and comes to a conclusion about this situation that she debates momentarily, then shares with the pack.

She's certain that Derek is deeply smitten by this newcomer.

By 6:45 the pack had all arrived, even those who had other jobs they were supposed to be getting ready for. Derek seems to have blithely missed the fact that the pack had arrived at the cafe and had been huddling together at one of the larger tables getting the play-by-play from Erica about whatever each had missed before they arrived.

Stiles had developed his senses such that he noticed Erica noticing them, and noticed that there were more wolves coming. Their energy wasn't hostile, but it was actively engaged. As he talked with Derek, he couldn't help but wonder why the alpha didn't seem to notice the rest of them. During a break in their chat about a particularly delightful staff he'd made friends with at a diner in Nevada, Stiles nodded to where the pack was sitting and waited for Derek to follow his gaze.

"Why is your pack here, Derek?"

"I don't know." He seemed surprised at not noticing. Derek looked at them and noticed that yes, everyone had arrived. He gave a glance at Scott who was loosely affiliated, being an alpha in his own right but mostly disinterested in claiming territory and building his pack.

"Don't you have work, Scott?"

"I'm sure Deaton won't mind that I came for the show at the cafe." Stiles laughed, and Derek looked at him, confused. "What show?"

Stiles isn't sure how to break this to him, so he tries to ease the wolf into the idea in a roundabout sort of way.

"Derek, what time is it?"

Derek glances at the clock above the exit. "It's almost seven. Why?"

"When did I arrive?"

"Just before we opened, I think." He scrunches his eyebrows. Stiles smiles, having already started learning the way the wolf's expressive eyebrows communicate thoughts he doesn't speak with his words. "Yeah, I opened the door and you were there."

"So you've been here talking with me for an hour and haven't noticed?"

Derek looks at Stiles, and the pack, and then moves to leave. Stiles gently sets his hand over Dereks' own hand, interrupting his sudden (and fearful?) escape.

He opens his backpack and pulls out a notebook. He then slides out of the booth and heads to the pack table, and pulls up chairs for him and Derek to join them. He sets the book down.

Wrapped around the book is a worn leather cover. It's got a few scratches and stains, and it is soft to the touch. Stiles loves this book, and as he holds it up for the pack and explains the leatherwork. Derek looks at the cover, surprised. Erica brings over a plate of cookies from the display and they show the same triple-spiral pattern, a triskelion, curled into itself in a familiar form.

Erica seats herself in the lap of one of the pack members. "Good morning, Boyd" Boyd nods to Stiles, unfazed by the recognition. Derek looks surprised that Stiles knows Boyd's name, and even more so that his packmate seems unbothered by the way Stiles already knows his name. Stiles says hello to each of the pack members. He gets to Scott and instead of "hello," Scott asks, "Why does your book have Derek's tattoo on it?"

Derek finds himself flushing and he's not half-sure why. The triskelion is a common symbol in supernatural circles. They've got it on their cookies, as the plate suggests. He grabs one of them and takes a bite. Stiles laughed at Scott and confesses that he sometimes blurts questions out, too. When Scott beams back at him, Derek sees how the two of them will become fast friends.

Then he tilts his head to the side. The pack takes notice, and then so does Stiles, who has turned to him with a sly smile.

"I hope you will allow me to share something with you all that I haven't shared with anyone, not even my dad." They nod, and then Stiles looks at Derek and raises an eyebrow.

"Go ahead, I guess. Not sure what you need our permission for."

Stiles grins at Erica, who knows something special is about to happen that will make all everyone's grumbling about being up early disappear in an instant.

"At three years old the little wolf, with his bare little feet and scruffy face and pointed ears, was poking around at the wild things in the area near his home. He couldn't control his shift yet, so sometimes he was half wolfy and half boy, and he barely noticed."

Stiles tilted the book at Derek who took a look at the image and said nothing, but his heart skipped a beat and his eyes opened wide.

"And the little wolf saw a lizard. The lizard told him that they could be friends, but that they needed to learn how, because one day, the little wolf might have to remind the lizard who his friends were."

Stiles didn't glance at Jackson, but a couple of the others did. Danny set his hand on Jackson's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"The little wolf did not understand the lizard. He asked the lizard how he would know him in the future. The lizard said they were family, but they didn't know that yet."

Scott's excitement overruled his better judgment again. "Jackson was a kanima and we found out that he was Derek's cousin!"

Stiles glanced at Derek and nodded. Derek avoided looking directly at anyone, but remained attentive in his listening. When Stiles continued, he looked at Jackson and smiled slightly. They had a rough go of things at first, but they've come a long way. Jackson really has worked on letting his fears go, the ones that fed the kanima and he's becoming a better man. Derek likes to think the experience has humbled him, too. After all, it isn't every day you discover that a dangerous were-creature was basically possessed by the darker side of his own fears and ended up doing some pretty awful things until they got it all worked out.

Jackson is reliable now, and Derek is one of the people he sends texts to when he is looking for advice. Derek considers it good progress that Jackson doesn't just ask about pack advice anymore, and instead about real-life stuff, like running a business and all that stuff.

Stiles has moved to a new story and Derek catches his name again. He inhales once more, and Stiles stops to scoot a little closer.

"Oh, sorry, this one is out of order. I'm not sure Derek will remember it." Derek sets his hand on Stiles' knee almost as an afterthought. It is as if being with Stiles is a thing that has already happened, and they've been together for decades. They haven't, but it's so easy to believe it, to trust Stiles, and to trust Stiles with his pack.

"When the little wolf had his first birthday, his asshole uncle creepy pants..." ("That's exactly who he is" slips Lydia under her breath, echoed by "yeahs" around the table.) "...gave little wolf a box. Little wolf was a boy at this time, almost never being wolfy at all. The box in front of him had a very interesting handle. Uncle creepypants showed little wolf boy that he could spin the handle around and around and listen to the music the box played. Little wolf boy was so excited! He squealed with delight and turned the handle in his tiny fist and laughed himself silly."

"But when the box clicked and the lid opened to reveal an ugly clown on a spring, the surprise of the moment caused little wolf boy to change, with little sharp teeth and little sharp claws and he knocked the little box over with his mightiest growl." Derek chuckled at this. The image was adorable even if he still has a thing about clowns."

("Derek's got a thing about clowns." Scott chimes in. "Perhaps we should not keep interrupting Stiles, Scott?" Lydia said with a glare. Scott was suitably threatened into silence and put his hand over his mouth as a reminder.)

"After little wolf hit the toy he ran to his father. The man was tall, friendly, and even for a human he was strong. This man was not a wolf like the little wolf was, but he seemed just as strong as everyone else to the little wolf and Derek felt himself scooped into his father's arms and held close as he cried about the toy. His father soothed him, promising to damage his uncle's personal things in retribution for such a prank. Little wolf was happy, and though he dreamed of bad clowns for a week, he also dreamed that he and his dad would fight them together."

The pack seemed to adore the stories, and Stiles kept reading. Derek would have preferred if the pack never heard some of these stories because many of them revealed parts of his life he'd forgotten about, or didn't want to talk about. Stiles was a good storyteller, though, and he found that as he wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders, and felt the lean muscular strength there, and smelled the way the chocolate and spice and scent of orange blossoms filled his nostrils, and how there was almost a flavor to the frisson of electricity in the aura of the spark. He felt cozy, and watched as the pack listened raptly to this master storyteller at work.

"This one is set in the future. Not even today, but in the near future." The pack looked at each other. Stiles looked at Derek, sat-up so Derek couldn't read ahead, or see the drawings in the margins. He wanted them all to experience this together. After all, the future isn't set, but this particular event isn't one of great triumph or struggle, so it shouldn't impact much of anything one way or another.

"It's the kind of Christmas morning where the windows are foggy and the lights on the houses nearby are blobs of color on the glass. The snow is on the ground thick enough to muffle noise, but not so bad you can't walk through it. In the great house in the preserve the pack meets. The little wolf is now a big wolf, but not a bad wolf. He's got his own pack now, and they welcome family and friends from far away every Christmastime."

"In the kitchen big wolf makes hot chocolate using a secret recipe he's developed at his cafe and which delights everyone. He prepares a cup for his electric friend, and for his friend who knows the ghosts, and for his cousin and his betas, for his sisters and their partners. He brews a magical potion of love and chocolate for everyone and makes it only at this time of year, as a treat to himself for his birthday, and as a cherished present to those he loves." Stiles grabs a cookie and munches it and glances at his notes.

"Oh, dang. Sorry, everyone, but I need to skip the rest of this."

"What, is it PG-13? We can handle a little of that. You two are already cuddling up."

"No, it's not that. The future is not set, and these stories might be pretty close to reality, but they're not facts. I don't know if the newcomers — No, sorry, I just don't know what I should say, so I'm going to skip it. And don't go trying to get into it later, Erica, you literally cannot read it, on top of getting a nasty burn if you try to open the book without my permission." She grunts back at him something about Batman with all his tricks and traps. "We'll get to it when we come to it. Together."

Derek nudges him with his shoulder. "Oh? Have you already decided you're staying?"

"Well, yeah, duh. When people meet their soulmates they really shouldn't just keep going."

"What? You did?"

Erica takes a cookie and throws it at Derek. "You're an idiot!" Derek looks at her confused, and annoyed. Boyd gives him a look that says to Derek that he is, in no uncertain terms, "being so stupid right now I can barely stand how stupid you're being. Would you please figure this out right now so we don't have to hold your hand through this life-changing event? What the hell, dude?"

Derek looks at Stiles, looks at the pack, and Jackson says, "Yo, dude, just check your threads."

It's Jackson's way of referring to the bond the pack has, and how they're bonded together with something that mentally looks like an energy string tying them together, supernaturals and humans alike. It's also the thing that Jackson knows will have Derek realize the truth of the situation. Derek tends to have to feel things out for himself. He doesn't think his way so much as do and feel and goes with that. The pack bond is one of the alpha's most powerful tools for relating to the people he's responsible for, and Jackson knows it's the kind of thing that will quickly get Derek out of his stupid place.

So Derek does at Jackson suggests. The pack are held with bright yellow bonds, the links between betas and between betas to their alpha. There are links to his family in colors that are tinted mostly with greens. Even Danny and Scott, both of whom are loosely associated with the pack, still have bonds to the alpha which show as gold from Danny and red from the other alpha. But there's a new line now, one directly to Stiles, and from Stiles come lines to the rest of the pack. There's a sort of hum to the group, a frequency that sounds like a cat's purr, or the perfectly tuned note on a piano, or the breeze through the forest in spring.

And the smells are incredible. He can now tell each member by scent just by thinking about them. Stiles being part of the group enhances his abilities considerably. He has the scent of desert clay and expensive wine from Jackson. There's the mixed whiffs of poppy and rain from Erica and Boyd. There is a tickling scent of dust from Lydia that underrides the floral of begonias and sparking wine. Allison smells of metal and snickerdoodles, and Scott of cane sugar and browned butter.

"Why can I feel your dad, Stiles?"

"Oh, well, we're a package deal. I bet you that within two years he'll move here, become Sheriff, and everyone will know him. He's just that kind of guy."

"How do you know this?"

Stiles opens the back cover of the notebook and holds it up to Derek so that only he can see. He folds it quickly before the pack can lean over enough to catch a glimpse. "Does that answer it?"

"Yes and no. I mean..." Derek glances at the window. Erica watches, and Lydia gasps minutely before catching herself. She barks an order.

"Boys, why don't you go get those figures and bring them to the table?" Jackson and Scott rise without a thought, only belatedly realizing they came to attention at her order. She's got no direct power over them, but yet, she somehow really does. She's just that intimidating. When she and Jackson broke-off their relationship, they took some time to heal from it, and now it's genuinely a good, close friendship between them. But he still does her bidding without necessarily meaning to, at times, to his minor annoyance. Danny just laughs at the situation, having been Jackson's best friend for ages and aware that Jackson really just kind of likes to be told what to do sometimes.

Stiles sits upright as the figures are laid before them. Derek is red-faced again, up through the tips of his ears. It's easily one of his most endearing qualities that are entirely outside of his control. Stiles loves that about the man, that his embarrassment and pride show through even when he doesn't mean to. and he's adorable when he's struggling with it.

"Wait." Stiles holds one, and then taps the rest, seeming to sense something about each. "You made these figures? The whole pack?" Derek nods. "These are great! Look, you even gave Jackson a little lizard tail. So cute!" (Scott had brought the Jackson doll over and hadn't realized that feature had been added. "Asshole" is all he says before sitting back in his chair and watching his cousin squirm under Stile's scrutiny.

"They're wonderful, and I think you did a great job. You could sell work like this for some pretty big bucks online, Derek. But why are we looking at them?"

Derek rises from his chair and goes to the window display. There's a house there between some tall trees. He reaches to the back, opens the door, and looks at whatever it is outside of Stile's line of sight.

"Come on, big guy. You don't need to hide your toys. Bring it over!" Stiles says playfully, and the pack giggles. Derek's ears flush brighter red and he steps over to Stiles and holds up to him a tall, thin figure with wild hair, a backpack just like the one he's got (down to the star and moon diagram in the middle), and sets it in front of Stiles next to the figure that looks like Derek.

"When did you make this?"

"I've had dreams about you for a long time. I could never see your face, but I knew the hair, and the bag, and the flannel shirts and tight jeans. I knew you were coming, but it wasn't until a few minutes ago that I realized this was you."

Erica holds her hands out. Several pack members put fives and tens into it. "I told you they were soulmates, but you all didn't believe me. All Stiles had to say was that he needed to pee and Derek just couldn't control himself."

Stiles and Derek could not help but laugh at that. Lydia and Boyd both gave half-disgusted, half-amused looks at her. Danny and Jackson were just laughing their asses off and Jackson silently filed that quote away for use later.

On Christmas day, not a week after they'd all met Stiles for the first time, the alpha and his soulmate had organized the pack to put up decorations inside and outside the Hale family home, they'd been cooking food, with Stiles giving Derek a flavor suggestion that perfected the recipe Derek's been working on, and they gathered everyone together for a huge pack picture. Stiles' dad and Derek's parents were able to get to town in time to welcome the happy couple to their first major holiday together and celebrate the blending of their families and pack.

As it turns out, the cafe has excellent WiFi and Stiles never has to worry about his things disappearing when he has to make runs to the restroom between writing chapters of his children's books about the Little Wolf and the Boy in the Red Sweater.

[cuteandtwisted]

Hey Wiss!! I love you and your writing so much and wanted you say that today is my birthday!(I waited a whole year to say this lol) But if its not too much to ask, is there any update of Bfyt? Like a little snippet or when the next update will be? Don't want to rush you but today would be amazing to have a little something from my favorite writer💛💛

(Hi LOVE Happy belated birthday💛. I’m sorry for missing this!! Here’s a ~ 2K BFYT snippet for you

In which Even casually makes Isak squeak 💛)

“So we’ll meet at my place because it’s closer to the commotion, then we’ll walk to Spektrum. We could take the tram but I’m sure there will be some closures and I don’t feel like running into human unicorns. And no, before you even try to suggest it, we are not going to Grønland. I would rather poke my eyes out than go through Grønland right now. Also, Eskild’s group is marching, or I should say dancing, with the first batch, so we can just catch him when they round that weird church. It’s not like we need to follow him the entire time, you know? He just needs me to be there to validate his fairy godmother status and to write “I forced my foster child Isak Valtersen into going to Pride” on an Instagram caption. I just know he’ll do it. He’s been constantly taking photographs of me. I think I should start to feel worried actually. Also, what a weird concept Pride is. Don’t you think the ones who insist on showing pride are those who are most prone to shame? Similarly to those who constantly boast about their possessions because they’re emptiest inside, to those who post the most on social media because they’re the loneliest at heart? Insisting on showing off one’s supposed greatness is a concept I will never-,” Isak pauses his rambling, suddenly aware that his speech has increased in speed and incoherence and that his voice is the only thing filling the sweet midsummer air in the cafe.

Even is sitting across from him, head propped atop his folded arms on the table before him, a wild golden mop of hair covering his face. He isn’t moving and Isak realizes that Even dozed off during his frenzied speech. He’s almost relieved, too embarrassed by how nervous he actually is.

Isak stares for a bit. Even has been all over him lately, talking too much, smiling too much, laughing too much, taking too much. Isak couldn’t do much but look away and hold it in. He hasn’t had a chance to just look in a while–for every time he does, he remembers Even’s ridiculous words from last week– So he looks.

Isak doesn’t really know what to call the feeling that overwhelms him watching Even with his eyes closed and a half-smile curling his lips. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever smiled in a dream. How is it so easy for Even? How does Even look so peaceful sleeping? So at ease, so… pretty.

Time stills enough for little specks of dust to hang suspended in a narrow beam of sunlight filtering through the glass windows. And for a moment, Isak questions the source of light: the sun is hot and unyielding today, but for some reason, a sleeping Even shines brighter.

No!

Isak catches himself mid-nonsense and blinks away the ridiculous thoughts. He sits up straight, kicks Even’s chair ever so slightly, then speaks again.

“Are you sleeping? Really, Even?” Isak scoffs, and his voice is almost shaky. It’s pathetic. He swallows and continues. “You pick logistics debrief to finally sleep? You haven’t let me sleep in days and now you want to sleep?”

Isak is beyond nervous. He’s self-aware enough to know and to admit to himself that he’s nervous. But he tells himself that it’s because of what he’s actually doing, not because Even is sitting across from him. And it’s true. Isak doesn’t plan routes for navigating the Oslo Pride Parade every day. The thought alone is filling him with an extreme urge to flee and lock himself in his room for at least a month. But he can’t. Not this year.

This year he has Eskild to think about and Even to drag to Pride. This year is not about him. Having a mission keeps him focused. He’s going because Eskild emotionally blackmailed him and because Mutta asked him to bring Even without telling him. He’s on a mission. He’ll be fine. He’s fine.

Isak is about to kick the chair again when Even speaks.

“Not sleeping,” he mumbles, his voice groggy but soft. There’s a smile there, too. His whole voice is smiling. Isak tunes him out.

“Uhm, not to be maddening, but last time I checked, closing your eyes and suspending your consciousness is called sleeping, Even.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. My consciousness is all but suspended,” Even chuckles, his face finally turning to blind Isak. His eyes are crinkling and it’s all very nerve-wracking. Isak can’t think.

“Oh, so did your eyes just happen to close themselves while I was relaying some very important information to you or?”

“I closed my eyes because I wanted to hear you, like really hear you,” says Even, his chin awkwardly laying on his folded arms now. His eyes are sparkling with something akin to happiness or euphoria, like simply sitting in a cafe with Isak and listening to him complain about exactly everything is filling him with joy.

“Are you saying my speech is too contrived or are you saying that you need a hearing device?” Isak huffs again, because he can’t really hide his nervousness unless he’s being insufferable.

“I’m saying that I love listening to you speak the most, and that when I close my eyes I feel like your words penetrate me even deeper.”

Isak is grateful that he didn’t decide to take a sip from his coffee because it would probably be all over Even’s hair by now. He chokes on air instead while Even laughs.

“Jesus Christ!” He coughs while Even’s warm laughter fills his bones.

“You have such a dirty mind, Valtersen.”

“Dirty mind?! I am simply appalled by your choice of words because they make absolutely no sense. My words penetrate you deeper? Which books do you even read? I can’t deal with you!”

“I’m just telling you how I feel,” Even replies with no hint of humor or teasing in his voice. He’s smiling but it looks like it’s out of sincerity, not mischief. “I love hearing you talk. I could listen to you all day. It’s just how I feel.”

The earnestness in Even’s voice leaves Isak feeling vulnerable. He knows they’re meaningless words and they almost have a child-like quality to them. It feels like Even is just speaking the thoughts that cross his mind without applying the glossy filter that comes with being a calculating grown person who’s experienced the downsides of speaking too quickly, too recklessly. Even is being reckless, and Isak doesn’t know how to handle him anymore.

He blushes and looks away, his mind scrambling for a rational thought to latch on and a witty comeback to end this dumb conversation.

“Noted,” Isak mutters then rolls his eyes, his hands reaching for the notebook where he drew their itinerary. “Never wake you up when you’re taking a nap, unless I’m ready to listen to you speak nonsense. Noted. I won’t do it again.”

He steals a short glance to check if Even is offended, but he’s still smiling, still hugging the table and smiling.

“Where was I again? Before I woke you from your deep slumber, huh?” Isak continues.

“You were talking about how you don’t understand Pride. And how only people who are ashamed insist on showing that they’re proud,” Even replies in a heartbeat, still smiling, like he’s about to burst with it.

“Uh, okay. So I guess you really were listening, huh,” Isak remarks nervously.

“You penetrate me. I told you. All this philosophy talk gets me.”

“Shut up!” Isak rolls his eyes while Even chuckles, then decides to focus on what he knows best, on the only thing that calms him down: his facts. “Anyway, I wasn’t even really talking philosophy there, just my personal opinion. Or I guess that counts as philosophy, too. But if you’re actually interested in knowing what old scholarship has to say on the matter, Aristotle is very known for his take on Pride. He actually thinks Pride is a virtue unlike most monotheist religious texts. Pride is weirdly defined, but a recurring definition is that pride is what is felt when a person thinks they exhibit greatness, so long as they actually do exhibit greatness. There’s a difference between thinking you’re great and being great, you know. So yeah, Aristotle says that as long as you’re great, it’s okay for you to think that you’re great and to show it off. But I don’t really agree with him. I think you can just be great and-”

Isak pauses. He’s rambling, meandering, blabbering. He’s nervous and he can’t stand it. He looks at Even and finds him staring, just staring so intensely, Isak can’t breathe. He wishes he’d go back to sleeping.

“But yeah, I don’t want to bore you with all these things,” Isak shrugs and goes back to staring at his notebook. “I guess if you want to learn more, you can just go to the library or consult your favorite resource: Wikipedia, as the lame person you are.”   

Even doesn’t react to his unnecessarily mean jabs, so Isak keeps talking. He rambles and he talks, hoping Even will just chime in eventually and tease him again about being annoying, or just do something.

Isak is grateful for his ability to just speak nonsense for days at a time and make it sound like it’s a deliberate stream of consciousness. He’s grateful for that ability because nothing he’s saying is making sense right now. He’s probably mixing up philosophers and references, and the only absent consciousness here is his own.

His mind is too busy trying to fight off the only words that have been playing in his head since last week, the ones Even uttered so shamelessly in front of kollektivet, so easily, the unspeakable ones, the outrageous ones.

Isak refuses to even think them. He wonders if Even regrets uttering them, if he’d like to take them back. Isak probably wouldn’t mind if Even asked. They were quite ridiculous. The least Isak could do was help restore their partnership up to that point and forget Even’s mild slip-up. He could do that for him. He really could.

“Anyway, Pride makes no sense if you really look at it from a socio-economic lens. As in it’s just a huge capitalist holiday disguised as social activism. And all these big corporations and business couldn’t care less that Sigve from East Oslo got bullied in middle school for being gay. They just want your money, and-”

Isak pauses again. He’s about to combust. He really is about to. Is Even smiling because he finds him ridiculous and is enjoying watching him fumble and trip over his own words? Is Even regretting saying those words? He hasn’t said them again. He hasn’t kissed Isak since they “made out” against the kollektiv’s blue door after Even said he’d wait for him. Even has been ecstatic and outrageous all week now, but he hasn’t kissed Isak in six days and 3 hours and 17 minutes and Isak can’t stand it anymore. He just needs to stop feeling so much. He just needs-

“What?!” Isak finally cracks. And he’s breathless and probably flushed from ear to ear. But he can’t just sit here and pretend that everything is fine when Even is looking at him like that. He can’t. He just- “What is it?!”

Even reaches for him with one hand, his head still propped on his other arm. And time stills again until Even’s thumb brushes against Isak’s cheek.

Time stills.

“I love you,” Even says like it’s the most evident thing. And Isak’s mind catches fire. “So much.”

Why is hearing it the second time is even harder than the first? Why are all of Isak’s defenses coming down? Why is he so flustered? Why can’t he move or speak? Why does it feel like getting stabbed in the chest? Why is something so simple so difficult to hear and accept?

It must show on Isak’s face because Even has now left his chair–Isak must have blanked out for a few seconds there; nobody can move that fast– and is cupping his cheeks with both hands while towering over him, the table still separating their bodies.

“So much, I could burst,” Even says solemnly before leaning in and pressing his lips to Isak’s. Right there in the middle of the Kaffebrenneriet right by Kollektivet, like it’s nothing, like this is nothing, like this is a thing they do every hour of every day, kiss in public spaces.

Isak can’t think, can’t breathe, but he kisses back. His body is conditioned to it by now. It’s just a kiss, just lips. But it drains him all the same. His jaw is tilted dramatically at a near 90 degree angle, with his throat exposed and vulnerable, to meet Even’s lips. It’s just a kiss, but it drains and empties him all the same. Isak indulges. Isak takes. He takes all of it.

“You are loved,” Even whispers to him when he pulls back, a giant smile on his face. And Isak can’t help the loud squeak that escapes him when Even leans down again to press his lips to his neck.

–

Isak stomps furiously the entire way back to the kollektiv, livid and angry at Even for pulling such a stunt in public, while Even follows closely behind, laughing and laughing and laughing.

Later that night, when Isak tries to go to sleep while Even works on some abstract project in the living room at an ungodly hour for the fourth night in a row, he finds three new words lining up to haunt and comfort him all the same.

‘You are loved.’