#my parents were like no bread because we got the store baked bread and they were like nope nope people are touching the bread

[avastrasposts]

Sourdough - A Baker's Dozen TedTalk

I’ve mentioned sourdough a few times in A Baker’s Dozen but I never dedicated a chapter to it even though it’s probably my personal favourite to bake. So to make up for that, I’m indulging in making a whole post about my other obsession, sourdough bread!

I love baking with sourdough because the process behind it is like magic to me. Flour, water and salt, three ingredients, and you can get the most delicious bread. The magic, unseen, ingredient is of course those wild yeast bacteria that live around us. 

My mum was always the one who baked sweet things around the house when I was a kid, my dad made the bread. When he first got into it he produced bricks. You legit could’ve used some of his loaves as a foundation for a house. And I’ve produced my fair share of bricks in my baking career too… But he got better and for most of my life I had the luxury of having fresh, homemade bread for breakfast. That’s where my need to make my own bread came from and once I got past the novelty of being “allowed” to buy bread from the store after moving out of my parent’s house, I got into making my own bread pretty fast.  

I started baking with sourdough about ten years ago when I stumbled on a blog about it. My first loaves were flat as pancakes and it took A WHILE before I graduated from baking in bread tins to managing to make loaves that actually held their shape. Sourdough dough does not behave like regular yeasted dough… But when I did manage to make my first proper levain, you know one of those beautiful golden loaves with nice holes and crunchy crust? I ate the whole loaf in one day. I couldn’t stop. Just butter, some sea salt and that was my food for the whole day. I’d never tasted bread so good. It’s tangy and flavourful in a way that yeasted bread just can’t imitate. 

I’m no expert but here is how I make and manage my starter and my bread. Important to remember is that flour, water and climate, especially the humidity, has a HUGE effect on the dough and the bread. No recipe will have the same results and to a certain extent, it’s a process of trial and error and learning how to bake in YOUR kitchen. 

In order to make sourdough, you need a starter and it’s surprisingly easy to make and maintain. I have a tiny starter, only about half a cup in size. The starter is your “yeast”, a small colony of yeast bacteria that you feed and culture so that you have enough for whatever you want to bake. 

The starter takes about 5-7 days to make and once you have it, you can keep it in the fridge and just feed it before you want to bake. 

So to make it you need: 

Organic whole wheat flour, stone milled if you can find it. 

Organic will contain more yeast spores and make the process easier. Don’t use old flour, check the expiration date of the flour you have at home. Flour can actually go rancid and wreck your bread. 

Water

I use tap water but if you live somewhere with chlorinated water, use bottled water. The chlorination will kill all bacteria, the good and the bad. 

A clean jar with a lid. 

It doesn’t have to be a clear glass jar but it’s pretty handy because it makes it easy to see what’s going on. 

Ok, now that we’ve got everything, let’s start. 

Day 1 - Evening

1 tablespoon flour

2 tablespoons tepid water (roughly body temp, maybe a bit cooler)

The amount of water you need to add can vary depending on how your flour has been milled. The mixture should be like gruel, not porridge. If two tablespoons isn’t enough, add a little bit more water until you have a fairly loose and liquid slurry. 

Mix together in the jar, put the lid on top but don’t screw the lid on. Leave for 48 hours in a warm place. Inside the oven (turned off) is a pretty good place. 

You can check on your jar after 24 hours. It’s pretty liquid and should smell warm and a bit sweet, almost like honey. If you see any brighter colours in it, red, yellow, orange, I’m sorry, but you have to toss it. That’s mold and that’s not what we want. So throw it out, start again (this is one benefit of this method, all you lost was a tablespoon of flour). 

Day 3 - Evening 

Ok, so if your flour/water mix is looking good, a bit liquidy, maybe it’s separated a bit, maybe a bit bubbly and frothy, we’re all good for the next step. 

Add 1 tablespoon of flour and mix in. Leave it overnight. 

Day 4 - Morning 

If the starter is on the right track now, you should begin to see small bubbles on the side of it, inside the glass jar. It should smell sour and yeasty, “bready”. 

Add 2 tablespoons of flour and two tablespoons of water and mix it in. Leave until evening. 

And that’s it! By evening you might/should see that there’s activity in the jar, bigger bubbles forming, the starter will rise up in the jar and expand, just like a dough. If it doesn’t, feed it 1 tablespoon of water and flour again and leave it overnight. Like I said at the beginning, lots of different factors are at play here so despite the fact that it’s all chemistry, it’s not an exact science (well it is, but since we can’t measure all the factors in each individual kitchen, we need to depend on a bit of trial and error). 

So now you have a starter and can start playing around with making bread. I won’t go into that because there are so many good instructional videos online. I can really recommend Claire Saffitz’s video, I’ll link it below. 

Obviously this starter is very small. Many recipes I’ve seen online call for much bigger starters and then discard half of it when they feed it but that always seems very wasteful to me. So what I do with my tiny little starter is just keep it in the fridge in its jar. When I plan on baking I take about 30 grams of starter and put it in a bowl and mix with 100g water and 100g strong bread flour. That is then the base for my bread the next day. To that mix I add whatever flour I’m baking with. The starter gets fed another tablespoon of flour and water and stays on my countertop overnight. That replenishes the starter and gives me enough for the next time I want to bake. In all, I usually have about 150-200 ml of starter in the fridge at any time. 

If I’m not baking, the starter stays in the fridge. I’ve had it there for a month without feeding (I was away travelling) and when I got home, I just fed it like above and left it out overnight. I had to feed it a couple of times before it got back to full strength. But the yeast bacteria don’t seem to die very easily, they just go dormant and are easily revived with flour and water. 

Fun fact, the actual science behind the yeast bacteria is that they eat the carbs in the flour and then convert that into energy and emit the gas carbon dioxide. The gluten strands in the dough traps that gas and makes the dough rise. So essentially, farts make the dough rise, tiny bacteria farts. I love science :D 

What else did I want to say about sourdough? Oh yeah, TIME! Time will make your bread taste better! And this goes for regular yeasted bread too.  By letting the dough cold proof in the fridge the yeast activity is slowed down but at the same time, flavour develops. With sourdough, you get a tangier, more sour bread. I usually keep my loaves in the fridge for 24 hours before baking them, same for my pizza dough. 

So thanks for coming to my TedTalk about sourdough! It’s amazing and frustrating and a real pain sometimes but when you get it right and you get to cut into that perfect loaf that YOU MADE and it tastes better than anything you’ve had, that’s real magic. 

[arvensimp]

Finally finish the game and I can say that arven is my favorite. I wonder what is like going to school with him. Going to class togother, eating lunch…doing activity.

Hi! I don't write fanfic for Arven while he's still in school, just to stay on the safe side, but I'm happy to do some bullet points! I hope that's okay!

This does have some slight end game spoilers!

🐶Personally, I see Arven as almost being raised by folks at the academy while his parent was busy researching. We already know that Clavell was pretty close with them. I don't imagine it would be much of a stretch to say that he looked after Arven a lot when the professor started to pull further away from their son.

🐶Arven isn't a terribly studious kinda guy. Like classes aren't his thing. It's not that he isn't smart. He just doesn't particularly want to bother. He goes to Hassel's and Saguaro's classes because he enjoys art well enough, and he genuinely wants to improve his cooking skills with Saguaro. You won't often find him with Tyme, Raifort, Jacq, Salvatore, or Dendra.

🐶Some of this DOES change after the events of the game and he learns about how his parents were as students at the academy. For example, Raifort can help him learn more about some of the historical aspects of the crater. Jacq is another scientist who can give context to his parent's research. Dendra can help improve his battling skills. Hell, he probably goes to Tyme with the logic that improving his math can improve his baking abilities. Salvatore can also help improve his social skills. Because...

🐶That's another thing about Arven. As much as this boy needs friends and people in his life, he really isn't.....a people person. He's super happy to have Nemona, Penny, and the player after the events of the game, but he's the sort who needs to be dragged to most extracurricular events unless they specifically cater to him. He's more than happy to spend his time with just his pokemon out in the region camping.

🐶This is not to say that he's disliked at all! People generally like him pretty well! He just. Doesn't. Not even like he thinks they dislike him. He just feels awkward around people

🐶One place on campus where he spends a lot of time that isn't the home ec room is the cafeteria! He likes helping out with meal prep there and is a place where he got a lot of hands on cooking experience.

🐶Because of that!!! You can always count on Arven to know the cafeteria menu super well and make recommendations based on what's available/in season/who made what.

🐶There's a kid in the school store who talks about how the bread that they sell is super good. I love the idea that Arven either makes or knows how to make this specific bread, and it's what he uses in his sandwiches

🐶Arven has introduced Mr. Saguaro to Mabosstiff, and the two of them are very good friends. Arven secretly swears that there is a resemblance between the two, but no one else sees it.

🐶When Mabosstiff got sick, Mr. Saguaro also knew about it, and he cried and hugged both Arven and Mabosstiff when he found out that the herba mystica saved the day.

[fountainpenguin]

"Gather up your tears; keep 'em in your pocket...."

---

I saw that we were short on Captain Tangent 'fics, so I wrote one... with no dialogue. Enjoy the boy!

“A penny for your thoughts (Oh no)”

Read on AO3

Character study series

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This was meant to be 2k words, but my OG opening line got pushed nearly 5k down by impromptu tangents and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way.

(First 1,000[+] words under the cut)

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For "safety reasons," Connor spends his whole 4th grade year with Uncle Bill, Aunt Josie, and his 6-year-old cousin Lilith. It's quite the adjustment. He's almost taller than all three of them (separately- not combined), even though his next growth spurt hasn't kicked in yet. Yeah, puberty's been taking its sweet time with that. He's started sprouting blond stubble down his legs and under his arms, but the extra hair is all he has to show for himself so far.

Rapid hair growth actually runs in the family. His dad used to sport a full, fuzzy beard. You know, both his parents have always had hairy arms and legs. It's fun to watch goosebumps prickle up in waves. Mom's arm does that when they watch scary movies together. Like Duskrunners: an enchanting tale of psychological horror and mystery! First filmed in 1944, directed by Cora J. Williams. The lead actress and actor later got married, even though they both died onscreen in much too gruesome of a way for a young boy to see. But it was fun!

Connor's been scruffy ever since he was a kid. He's still a kid, freshly 10 years old (His birthday flew past him in September) - but, well… you know. Once when he was young and roaming the beach with shovel and pail, he even overheard a little girl whisper to her mother, asking why he had "fur" all down his back. It's just how genetics dealt his hand. He also has poor teeth, but that's partly his own fault. He devours all sorts of sweets, especially from the arcade's prize counter or the coin dispenser machines at the front of the grocery store. You can find all sorts of hard candy there. His favorite flavor's cherry, but it wasn't always. For the last three years, he's leaned towards grape. Before that, he liked blueberry. Something about strong fruity flavors just tickles his fancy.

Though, there's definitely something to be said about cotton candy. A single lick always conjures up memories of exploring the amusement park, hand in hand with Dad while Mom snapped pictures with one of the dozen disposable cameras she carried around. Actually, dozen is a bit of a misconception. She had eight of those cameras. Gifts from her mother-in-law, they were. She rarely uses them anymore.

Not because she doesn't like her mother-in-law. Actually, they've always gotten along great. Connor's even named after her: his Granny Connie. There's an interesting story he can tell about her: Granny Connie thrived as the best swimmer on her high school team in her younger years. She won every contest. Her backyard stood full of conifers, and she even kept a pet conure as a kid. And she might have been a part-time con-woman. Not sure; her stories can be a little convoluted. One thing he does remember quite clearly is the way Granny Connie often said that telling stories reminded her of baking bread. Sometimes you have to let them sit and leave them there to rise. What a listener chooses to do with their freshly cut slice of bread after that is entirely up to them.

Sometimes Connor counts himself lucky to be blond. It was inevitable, of course. Both his parents have light-colored hair. It means he can see himself quite well in their old pictures- even the black and white ones. It feels familiar. Mom always says he looks just like she did back in her day. Undoubtedly true. See, Mom's always been as honest as a piggy bank. Her paintings reflect this; the landscapes she dabbles in shine without exaggeration. She gave up lying a long time ago, back when he was but a wee boy hoping for a cookie or cupcake in the evenings. The thing is, she often needs to think before she answers him. Her hands stall in completely different ways before she answers him in truth versus when she's lightly fibbing. He's picked up on that and she'll never pull one over him again.

Not that her lies have ever been cruel, by any means. Oh, goodness no. The fact is, Mom's all so very sensitive with her praise. He might be too, in her position; she's both an artist and an art critic. Makes her cranky sometimes. But really, she's the most supportive woman he could ask for as a mother. He and Ruth both love her dearly. Ruth's his half-sister, away at university right now. Sometimes she calls. She's quite busy at the moment, though. Seems like she's dating someone new every couple weeks, but at least the revolving door of potential partners always bring along exciting stories.

You wouldn't guess it if you only knew his mom, but Connor's been classed as "the tall one" ever since his birth. Entirely true! No embellishment necessary. He and Ruth always stand in the middle or back row of the extended family photos. The pictures hanging here in his aunt and uncle's hallway are proof of that. They have six photos- one for every other year since they tied a knot together. Where that knot lies now, he isn't sure. Aunt Josie is an eldest daughter. A bit of a control freak, but nice enough. Needs everything kept ship-shape, though, and she'll tell you in those exact words.

Once, Connor actually did try to sit cross-legged on the floor with most of his cousins during a photo session. It didn't really pan out. At least, not any better than their interactions around the kids' table come Thanksgiving. There are three young sprouts blooming from his mom's side and four on his dad's. Plus half a dozen more from Mom's first husband, but the Harrisons are certainly a wily bunch and even he can barely keep up with them. They seem to multiply like rabbits. Or was it rats?

No, definitely rabbits. Also through the Harrison side of his family, he and Ruth proudly claim connection with an estranged second cousin named Flynn who's been parasailing in fourteen different countries… or possibly more than that by now. All his cousins have such a varied range of interests that it's a wonder they all grew up in the same family. One of his cousins likes race cars. Two of them - they're twins - know more about dinosaurs than Connor ever will, even if he studies bones for the rest of his life. That's not to say he isn't fond of bones. He's always admired a good museum or aquarium exhibit depicting hulking skeletal beasts suspended on cable and twine. Though, he does know the difference between a tarsal and a metatarsal, so perhaps it's a worthy field of study to investigate as he grows older. What's that line of research called again? Paleontology?

You know, Connor was never into dinosaurs or race cars as a kid. He liked scaling trees, playing croquet, splashing through the creek, catching lizards and grasshoppers, and all sorts of adventuring like that. He used to scratch his legs up real good in the process. Er… real bad. Badly? Either way, Mom always sent him to rinse off when he came stumbling back home. Sometimes he'd even be hopping on one leg. Showers are never a delightful way to spend his free time, but it's a necessary cruelty; infection's no fun for anybody. She'd make a game of it. And it worked for them; she'd pay attention to him instead of to her art. Connor could talk to her one-sidedly while she looked him over, smearing rubbing alcohol up and down his legs with her palm. She'd kiss him on the forehead and ruffle his hair before he went romping off again, dragging a stuffed toy or a kite behind him.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[pbandjesse]

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates. I don't particularly love the connotations of Thanksgiving, but this year I really do want to focus on what I am thankful for. I still want to remember Native American people and their plight. But I particularly feel like I need to acknowledge the things and people I'm thankful for. Like James being home and not dead. Like my dad healing. Like my mom and Jess showing up for me when I need them. Like my brother coming to my wedding. I have a lot I am thankful for.

Last night was rough. Thank you to anyone who reached out with kind words. James was up and down every couple of minutes. I would think we had them in a comfortable position. They would even start lightly snoring. But then they would jolt awake and stand up and start to pace. I felt horrible. We tried having them sit up in a chair. We tried lots of pillows. Nothing kept them comfortable for very long.

I would eventually fall asleep. And James did apparently get a solid hour. But it was not enough. They were and are exhausted. I really hope tonight they can sleep.

I woke up and James was next to me. I was glad they were here. I missed them so much.

We would slowly get up. I made the bed. James took a shower. I called my dad. He encouraged James to think of the pain as healing pain and not injury pain. I hope the mindset helps them. I am pretty sad I couldn't be with my parents today. But it was the correct call. James was not going to do well in the car. Just the little drives we have made have been rough.

But we didn't worry about that right now.

Once James was dressed they decided to go for a walk. I would get washed and dressed while they were gone. I picked up the apartment a little. Put the chair James tried to sleep in back in the living room. I was thrilled to see Waffles and Omelette were swimming around and seemingly doing really well.

James had finished the Lego lunar rover so I found a safe place to store that.

And soon James was back. I was eating cheese and crackers. And they said we should get to work on what we were bringing to Thanksgiving.

I wanted to make spoon cornbread and a sort of pudding dish. We did not have the jiffy corn bread mix I thought we did. Only blueberry muffin mix. So I looked up how we can make it at home and James got to work on that. They would keep trying to do stuff and get overwhelmed and almost be crying and then I would be distressed. I wish they would stop apologizing. I want to help. I want them to let me help.

I also wanted them to eat. But we didn't have buns so they couldn't have hotdogs and so they had a muffin instead. Which was not the protiens they wanted but at least was something. They lost 8lbs in the hospital. Which is real scary to me. They are already thin. I don't need them weak when they are already unstable.

But James put together the cornmeal mixture for me. And I would make my cornbread in our le cruset Dutch oven. Which took a half hour longer then it should have because it was so deep. But smelled great.

My pudding did not go so well. It wouldn't set up. This is why I prefer the quick serve one and not the cook kind. But at least it tasted good. Even if I was slightly disappointed when it wouldn't set up and all the wafers I used as a bse floated to the surface. At least the mango gave it a nice flavor.

The plan was to go to the Changs' (pronounced Chongs) house at 3. James had their next pain medicine dose at 230. So we would leave after that. And so while I waited for the cornbread to finish baking, I chilled on the couch and started the second glove I hadn't gotten to yet. So at least that's progress.

I packed up the cornbread in our new yeti tote bag. Which is excellent. And grabbed my bag. And we headed out. James shouldn't be carrying anything so it's on me. Which is fine. The drive was a little nerve wracking. But James got to show me where the accident happened and it makes a lot more sense now. Like that driver shouldn't have turned so fast and without warning. But at least I can understand where and how it happened.

We got to the Changs' and they really have such a beautiful home. I had been there once before. But it's just like. Maximalism and funky and full of small objects and art. And just rich colors and it's so cool. And we got a huge warm welcome. Everyone just being so happy James was there and only a little worse for wear. After a few minutes of gushing over James everyone went. Oh also hello Jesse. Which made me laugh.

The Fulwilers would soon be there. And I got to meet some other Chang friends and family. Jamess aunt Katie (she is actually their godmother)'s cousin was someone I ended up talking to a lot. Showed her a bunch of our wedding stuff. Actually made her cry!! Which I did not mean to do!! But she really said some nice stuff about the wedding pictures and that felt nice.

I really did have a nice time. We sat in the backyard for a while. Enjoyed a firepit that Julien lit. There was smoked fish and roasted garlic. The roasted garlic was so good.

And as the sun went down we went inside to get the real food.

Katie made amazing bread. And I enjoyed basically everything I had. Except the cranberry sauce but that's just because I only like the jellied kind that comes in a can. But everything else was amazing. James was a little unsteady and their medication was starting to wear off. So I would make a plate for them. And we would eat inside with the young people and Anne. And I got to tell them about when I was part of a lawsuit and how it let me and James get in this apartment. How we have always been so lucky.

I could tell James was starting to not feel well. So once everyone was back inside I said thank you to Katie and goodbye to everyone else. I wish I gave more hugs. But I needed to get James out of there and the long goodbyes we normally have werent going to work this time. This was a we have to leave now situation. So maybe I was rude. Whatever. James is more important to me.

And so we went home. James brought a plate of dessert. And they carried that. I carried our bag. We saw a couple dancing on the sidewalk by our car and I jokingly said I should set off the car alarm. We had a big laugh over that.

We got home right at 630 when James's next medication was due. Perfect timing.

Jess had been having a hard day. She's in Florida with her mom visit family. And apparently no one was helping with anything and she was feeling really uspset. But at least her food was delicious in the end. And my parents had diner for two. I am not sure what my brother did. I hope he had a good day too.

I was glad to be home. James was walking really slow. But we got inside. And we opened the Christmas diorama egg we have. Which we have decided is what we will do at the end of Thanksgiving every year. Gotta start traditions somewhere. And the ceremonial opening of the egg will be one of them.

We wound wind down. James took their medication. I put the dishes away and took a shower. Fed all the animals. I took an excellent bath. And then played Pokemon. I am very excited that I have caught almost all the Pokemon I have encountered. I only have two left!! Of 239! So close. I haven't played much in the last few months but it was fun to sit on the couch and play with James watching.

James would make me a thanksgiving snack. And we would just spend time quietly together.

And now we are in bed. I am really tired. James keep falling asleep for a few minutes. I hope they can get more comfortable tonight. We will have to see.

My allergies are going a little wild and my ear really hurts. But I feel stupid complaining when James is hurting so bad. Like I know it's not a competition. But still.

I am going to try to sleep now. We have the next few days together. Which I am really grateful for. I just hope James can start to heal.

Thank you again for everyone who reached out. I love you all. Stay safe !! Happy Thanksgiving.

[jakesangel]

https://www.tumblr.com/jakesangel/755192039169212416/httpswwwtumblrcomjakesangel75518872061499801

hi again princess ><

we have the perfect age gap actually! if you don’t mind me asking, why you still can’t get your own cat? do you have allergic?

what type of birthday surprises do you usually made? i usually bake cookies, bread or cake for my friends’ birthday! they do enjoy those thankfully

then i will wish for your birthday next year! let’s have fun on tumblr until next year >< your brother is so thoughtful, thumbs up for him. (nah you are not delusional, perhaps jake is the one who told your brother about the perfume 😉)

i don’t really ask for gifts but my family are very observant. my mom bought me a new phone during my birthday last year because my storage was always full (and i got a good result for my exam), i have a brother too! he gave me a camera after i mentioned it once while we were window shopping in a camera store. my closest friend gave me a long letter (i love letters) and she asked everyone in school (my batch) to write what they like about me and wish me a happy birthday. so i have a lot of letters from everyone and i really happy and shocked. i never noticed her did that because i’m always with her 24/7. definitely one of my core memories

did i talk too much? i got carried away 🤣 also what is your favourite song from romance untold album preview? mine is hundred broken hearts!

hai again ㅋㅋ

no it's because i have a big family ᵎ i have my two parents n 4 brothers living in a more or less mall apartment so getting a cat wouldn't be the best for the animal :( but the first thing i'll do when i'll live alone is to get one > <

i usually plan a huge hang out in paris w the bday person favorites, we eat luch n i make sure we have a picnic to show the gifts >< we also just get pics taken ᵎᵎ i also give privately love letters ^.^

please bake me cookies ~~ i love them sm n clearly it seems u're a good baker >< yes ᵎᵎ let's stay together for a long time >< would u like an emoji ?ᩚ <3

you have such lovely family n friends, i hope you cherish them a lot ^^ you jsut be so loved too ᵎᵎ i'm really happi to hear it >0<

no u didn't rambled too munch ᵎ i'm happi u felt free to say this much <3 by far i like your eyes only the most ᵎ thank you for asking bby <3 will you/ did you buy any album version for this cb ?ᩚ

[apriiicotx]

ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

check notes at the end.

All-purpose flour. My mom wanted to bake a cake for dad. “I want to do something special”, she smiled. “There’s no flour” I reminded her. My parents never really got along, so I couldn’t understand why she wanted to make that cake. I didn’t feel anything when they divorced, “about time” my 6th grade self thought. I remember coming home that day and hearing them yelling at each other again. I placed my bag down and took my shoes and my coat. I was hungry so I went to the kitchen, where my mother was. It seemed things had cooled down. She was putting the groceries away. My father came back yelling at her, he didn’t even notice I was there. My mother screamed. The flour spills and packs of frozen vegetables are scattered on the floor. I hate cleaning up messes. 

Baking Soda. I loved doing science experiments. Throughout elementary school, I was always the kid chosen to represent the class for science fairs. My favorite experiment was the exploding volcano. 

Salt. I had a friend in middle school who was obsessed with salt. In science class, she’d bring out tiny salt packets, pour them in the palm of her hand, and lick them. She kept this habit up for 6 months every day. Later that year, I heard she was in the hospital from a stroke. Didn’t know high blood pressure ran through the family. 

Unsalted Butter. I prefer toast for breakfast. As a kid, I’d wake up before my parents and place two slices in the toaster. I had to be quiet because I didn’t want to wake my sleeping mom. I heard the floorboard creek, uh oh, she was up. I hurried up and took the bread out of the toaster. I wanted something on it. Jam? Peanut butter? There was only butter. I grabbed the butter, my mom was there with me. “Butter makes you fat.” were the last words I heard before I saw her hand slide across my face with force.

Sugar. My dad always said I had a sweet tooth. Even though Mom and him argued a lot, he always made sure to bring me home something after his nights out. 2nd grade, it was a chocolate donut. 5th grade it was chocolate chip cookies. In 7th grade it was lipstick, I was confused. The color matched the kiss mark on his neck and mom didn’t wear lipstick. In 9th grade, it was pink lipgloss, and I accepted it. My then-boyfriend said he loved the way it looked on me. 

Vanilla extract. Why is it so expensive to buy? I wanted to give her a gift. Her birthday was coming up. She always talked about this dagger necklace that was on display every time we walked by the store. I think I had mixed feelings for my best friend, romantic feelings. I wanted to impress her but I only had forty dollars to my name, well, at least until my next paycheck came out. 

Two large eggs. My sports bra couldn’t fit me anymore. My 5th-grade body is now my 9th-grade body. I had to buy a bigger bra. I told my mom, and she said to just check in the back of her drawer and use one of hers. I didn’t know my size. At school, in the janitor's closet, my boyfriend said he loved my breasts, and he grabbed them harshly, we continued to make out. I asked my best friend to help me figure out my size, she took me to the department shop and they measured me. She also wanted to grab a new bra. “We have the same bra size,” she said as she took off her shirt. We were in the same changing room, her breasts were large in my opinion. I wanted to kiss them. 

Chocolate Chip Chunks. I used to steal chocolate from this small corner store near me. I’d eat them at a nearby park on the swings. If my mom saw me eating this, she’d kill me. “It'll make you fat.” I didn’t care. I’m always hungry at home and I’m tired of eating apples and carrots for snacks. I just want to be able to eat sweets like the other children.

*. * ·*. * ·

author's note:

this is a story I wrote during my freshmen year winter term in my creative writing class :D! it was little prompt/ outline we're supposed to follow and here was my take on it.

[yellowpencilcrayon]

Person A: *texting* how tall are you

Person B: uhh like 5'5"

Person A: *runs and grabs a measuring tape to see how tall B would be compared to them*

[tricktster]

so i’ve been baking bread pretty regularly since sayyyy april 2020. you know, when we were waiting for this whole kooky covid thing to die down in a few weeks, but in the meantime some people had taken the very rational step of buying out every store’s supply of EXTREMELY PERISHABLE goods, including the extremely sad 100 calorie sandwich rounds favored by my parents.

now me? I’d read enough zombie very serious survival books to have ventured to the co-op on March 10 to stock up on dry bulk ingredients, and I’d included yeast and bread flour among the necessities - not because I thought that they’d ever get used, really, it just seemed practical if things got a lot worse than anticipated. And then? Well. You know.

So I joined the club of the tens of thousands of americans who had always viewed leavened dough with a healthy skepticism and the deep sense that these things were best left to the professionals. With the circumstances now unimaginably altered, we were now very cautiously dumping yeast into bowls of warm water, all the while doubting that this would actually work. So, obviously, that sense of accomplishment I felt when, after all the proofing and kneading and rising and punching down and rising again and venting and egg washing and etc etc etc, I actually pulled two relatively respectable loaves of bread out of the oven? Fucking intoxicating.

I’ve gotten medium good at bread over the intervening years, insofar as I can produce a sandwich loaf without needing to find a recipe, I’m pretty comfortable with adding cheese or garlic or raisins and nuts or whatever if I’m feeling like an Interesting Bread, i’ve forced a few loaves of sourdough into existence (though both I and the dough were kicking and screaming the whole way), and I recieved the ultimate tool of convenience for my birthday last year, when my parents gave me the dutch oven that finally permitted me to finally skip kneading altogether (if I so desired).

Except like.,. I didn’t ask for a dutch oven. I actually asked for something much cheaper and by all accounts more convenient: A bread machine. When I did, though, my mom (who has baked precisely 0 loaves of bread in her life) said “oh, you don’t want a bread machine.”

“I don’t?” I asked, already halfway swayed by her confidence on the matter.

“oh, no, nobody ever actually uses bread machines, they just take up space on the counter.” my mom, a woman who owns two instapots, assured me.

I considered her reasoning, and very firmly replied with a defiant “oh, okay, yeah. that makes sense, and I guess I’ve gotten this far without one, so like, it’s silly to get one now.”

I know. I have a will of steel.

So like, another year has passed since that exchange, and a week or two ago i finally decided that since counter space is no longer at a premium at my new place, i could at least try out a cheap bread machine? I went on ebay, got an open box deal on a decent entry level model, and took it for a spin yesterday.

And, for what it’s worth, uhhhhhhh HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT COULD HAVE BEEN THIS LOW EFFORT THE WHOLE TIME?????

LIKE I COULD HAVE BEEN JUST DUMPING INGREDIENTS IN A PAN AND WALKING AWAY THIS WHOLE TIME?????!?!?!?

it’s making brioche for me right now. It’s almost too easy. I’m actively furious.

This feels exactly like the day I finally bought a game genie so i could get Mew to finish out my red dex. I’ve been grinding and learning helpful strats from youtube and there was a fucking cheat code that would have let me skip the bread making side quest while still gaining xp this whole goddamn time.

[flightfoot]

Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized. 

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization. 

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings. 

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store. 

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman. 

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack? 

“Marinette… what year is it?” 

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face. 

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well. 

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.” 

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen. 

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?” 

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought. 

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms. 

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back. 

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?” 

Marinette shook her head. 

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?” 

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly. 

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned. 

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!” 

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently. 

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time. 

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park. 

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked. 

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video. 

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered. 

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before. 

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently. 

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!” 

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug. 

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said. 

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?” 

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened. 

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

[folerdetdufoler]

What are Magic 8ball Evak doing today? I miss them.

xo

hey, sorry, you sent this a few weeks ago i think and i really got hung up on it.

usually this kind of thing would be fun to think about but because of the way time works i didn’t know how to write around it! like, when you sent it it was late august, and technically that had like, just happened in the story. we’d just had a late august, so i couldn’t figure out if i should write another “late august day” almost a year after the story finished, even though i only finished the story back in april. that felt like too much of a time jump though, and i hadn’t given isak and even enough time to grow after the story ended. someone else had asked for an update in the comments on ao3 and i couldn’t give them one, not the same way i have been doing for mondays. but i do want to do something, so…

even’s birthday fell on a sunday. it was the first one isak would be celebrating with him, so isak wanted it to be special. but so did sigrid, and she worked faster than him. she invited them to their house for dinner months in advance, which annoyed even. the saturday before, when they were all hanging out at elias’s apartment, even spent most of the time grumbling about it.

“i thought things were getting better with you guys?” elias asked from his throne.

even sighed. “yeah, i mean, we’re fine. this guy is her new bff.” even patted the head of curls sitting against the couch between his legs. “but i just know it’s going to be this over-the-top thing that i don’t want to have to deal with on my birthday of all days. i don’t want that attention.”

isak paused the race he was playing against mikael and whipped around. “you love the attention.”

“yours, not hers.” even gave that same head a correcting tap and isak returned to the game. “if she actually wanted to celebrate my birthday with me then she would ask me what i would like to do, and then maybe it would be something i would enjoy.”

isak scoffed but didn’t pause the game this time. “if she did that you would just tell her to leave you alone.”

“happy birthday to me!”

“then you should just tell her no, you don’t want to spend your birthday with her.” elias doled out the reasonable and obvious advice.

“i would have, but she invited both of us and isak accepted immediately. besides, it’s kind of a regular thing now, sunday dinners.”

“that’s cute,” mutta noted as he walked in from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels and jar of peanut butter. mikael pointed to the coffee table, a silent command to place the snack within his reach.

isak felt a little guilty then, but he kept it to himself. they kept playing their game until it was mutta’s turn, and then isak pushed himself to his feet. he gestured to even to follow him to the kitchen.

even had a big smile on his face as they stepped away, because he was probably thinking isak wanted to kiss him in the privacy of another room. isak did pull him in close by the waist, but it wasn’t for kisses. “we can skip tomorrow,” he offered instead.

even froze for a second, but then shook his head. “no, no, we can go. i would only make it worse by skipping.”

“i would be happy to tell her we’re skipping but take her out to dinner on her own another night, smooth things over.”

even chuckled. “i absolutely love that you feel comfortable having one-on-one dates with my mother but it’s really not necessary. I’m just…complaining. and i’ll complain a little bit more in therapy, and then i’ll work through why i’m complaining and then i’ll be in a better mood for tomorrow. okay?” he reached up and rubbed isak’s shoulders in reassurance.

“will you tell me about it when you get home?” sometimes even shared what they’d talked about and sometimes he didn’t. isak was getting better about asking permission to cross the ever-changing border.

even’s eyes shifted to the side. “it depends on what we dig up.”

isak accepted this. “okay.” he leaned in to kiss even’s cheek, physically changing the subject. “my next question is…how angry do you think elias will be if i steal the big pillows?”

―――

isak had moved into even’s apartment right before christmas, hauling bags and suitcases back and forth over a few days until most of his belongings were at even’s. he fit a desk and his nice chair in the bedroom, and somehow all of his clothes fit in even’s closet. the giant pillows he’d bought had stayed at elias’s apartment, mostly because they would get more use there; the boys still gathered on saturdays and needed the extra seating. but after even left for therapy this was isak’s chance to make the steal without ruining his surprise.

mikael helped him carry them to even’s apartment, since he was ready to leave around the same time as isak. they didn’t talk much on the walk over, but isak knew that that was mikael’s preferred level of communication, and they were both comfortable with it. isak would much prefer a mikael at peace than a mikael ready to launch an attack.

they deposited the pillows in the living room and mikael turned to leave. “we should be here at six?” he asked over his shoulder.

“yeah. i don’t know how late we’ll be but if we leave early then that would be a good time.”

“okay. and elias still has his key?”

“yup.” isak followed mikael down the stairs to their shoes.

“aight. we’ll see you tomorrow then.” mikael offered his hand for a casual slap-shake goodbye, the most physical intimacy isak had ever experienced with him.

“thanks for the help!”

mikael disappeared. isak went back upstairs to find his phone and finalize plans with kari anne in the group chat.

―――

isak dressed nicely for dinners at sigrid & jan’s house. this time he had a red fair isle sweater and dark wash jeans, and some chunky socks keeping his feet warm in his leather boots. even wore something very similar, but his sweater was cream with a different pattern. “do you think she’ll want to take pictures of us again?” even wondered while he combed back his hair, then gently mussed it into a style.

“of course. it’s your birthday. and we look handsome.” isak was applying a dot of concealer just because he could, though he would have to ask emma for more if he wanted to keep up this routine. even put his comb bak in the drawer then leaned in to kiss isak on his opposite cheek. he added a smack to his ass on the way out.

isak liked to dress up a bit because it felt like sigrid and jan dressed up too. it was the polite thing to do, but also isak knew that conversation would flow better if they were all on the same page, even with their appearance. they were all putting the same level of effort into the gathering, and then no one would feel out of place. and it wasn’t too much extra effort, because they would just save the same outfits for work the next day…as long as they didn’t get any stains on them.

they gathered their outerwear as they walked down the stairs, pulling hats and scarves and heavy coats from the hooks along the walls. isak checked in with even right before they left. “are you sure?”

even nodded and smiled and isak didn’t doubt the honesty of his response. he’d shared that his session yesterday had gone well, and they’d talked about certain behaviors from sigrid and himself that he wanted to avoid. “like i’ve been remembering things she’s said and reacting to those instead of what she’s actually doing now. when i feel ready to discuss those past…transgressions, then i need to have a conversation specifically about those moments, versus whatever might be triggering those memories now, whether they’re related or not. otherwise it’s kind of like these mixed messages. she won’t understand what’s actually upsetting me.”

on the way over isak suggested a dinner with just his parents, where isak stayed home. “would it be easier, or give you more of an opportunity to discuss those things without me there?”

“maybe another time. sundays are nice with you.” he gave isak’s hand a squeeze.

they held hands in public now, while they were commuting to work or grocery shopping or walking over to elias’s or meeting emma for dinner. if isak happened to catch a stranger’s curious look, he might tense up a bit, but he didn’t let go anymore.

sigrid & jan’s house was a tiny thing that they’d moved into after even went to university. its yard was bigger than the actual house, but it was completely filled with jan’s garden. another nice thing about going to visit was that they always came home with plenty of seasonal crops. and in the winter it was usually canned fruits, jams, or pickled veggies. sigrid greeted them with big hugs and jan immediately presented two very small jars of “blackberry jam! i got just enough off of that bush at the back.”

“i thought it had died!” even exclaimed, the genuine shock and delight at the gift lifting his voice.

“it’s definitely on its last legs…uh, roots.”

“he was out there every day scouring the brambles.” sigrid shook her head but she was clearly proud of his efforts. then she took isak’s hand and pulled him to the kitchen. even and jan went to the tall closet at the back of the living room where jan stored his jars. “you both look so cozy today. remind me to take a picture later.” she brought him to the stove where she had two large pots simmering. she pointed to one. “i need you to blend that while i get this bread finished.”

“what is it?”

“that’s butternut squash, and this…is a ministrone. kind of. i’ve taken some liberties.”

isak picked up the immersion blender that was sitting next to the stove. sigrid had gotten it started but it was still chunky in spots. while he stood there and mixed the soup she sliced a loaf of bread and laid it out on a baking tray. each slice got a thick spread of butter. isak stepped to the side so she could open the oven and slide the tray in for a quick broil.

she flicked her eyes toward the living room and then leaned toward isak’s chest. “how has he been?”

sigrid asked this question every time they were together. isak had thought it was just general curiosity about the new relationship, but once isak revealed that to even he had rolled his eyes. she was asking isak because it was the nervous curiosity that even had tried to distance himself from years ago. eventually he told his mother to stop using isak to get answers about her own son. that turned into an argument where sigrid nearly started crying about how even wouldn't answer her so she had no choice. she excused herself from the table and jan was left to host the boys through the rest of a very quiet dinner.

at this point isak was comfortable pushing back to defend even’s boundary. “sigrid, you know i’m not going to speak for him. how’s this, is it smooth enough?”

she glanced into the pot. “yes, that looks good.” isak’s deflection seemed to work. “now grab some bowls from the shelf for me please. thank goodness he found a tall one to bring home,” she muttered to herself. isak blushed but easily picked four bowls from up high.

even and jan came to the kitchen shortly after, with jan still talking as they headed to the table. isak passed them the silverware and glasses to set out at each seat. then he helped sigrid carry the pots to the table. before she sat down she dropped a kiss on the crown of even’s head. “how are you doing?” she asked as casually as she could as she moved to her chair. isak sat on the other side of the table, so the couples could look at each other directly. isak studied even as he answered.

“i’m fine, mamma. a little nervous about pappa’s grand scheme over here, but everything else is okay.” isak couldn’t hear any tension in his voice so he relaxed a little bit.

“oh, is he trying to get you on his side about buying a van?”

“how else will i transport my vegetables, sigrid?” jan sounded exasperated by her skepticism.

“dearest, you don’t even have the stall permit yet. don’t put the cart—excuse me, the van—before the horse.”

“catch me up?” isak requested of the table in general. jan gleefully started from the beginning with his grand plan to join the farmer’s market that summer, with the full list of his crops and ideas for clever names for his backyard farm.

most of dinner was spent discussing this great undertaking, with even contributing creative enthusiasm and sigrid sprinkling it all with caution and logic. then they pivoted to jan’s work at the office, and how he found his attention shifting so easily in the warmer months. jan and sigrid lived comfortably and were starting to entertain plans for retirement. that led to talking about the cabin, which turned into the perfect segue by the time they were clearing the table for dessert.

Isak fetched smaller plates from an even higher shelf, and even clapped when sigrid revealed his cake. it was a tall layer cake draped in swirls of light blue icing. there were six candles on top and even’s name written in a shaky, dark blue script. “do you remember that picture you put in the folder for me? the close-up of his face?” sigrid asked isak. he nodded. every few weeks he picked a photo (with even’s approval) from his phone and uploaded it as a wordless update for his parents. that one had been from early december, when they went out for lunch on a random tuesday, just to get some sunlight. “i zoomed in on his eyes and picked the blue color from there.” sigrid twisted to even and cupped his cheeks with her small hands. even leaned into the adoring gesture and those blue eyes crinkled up with a smile. they shared a silent moment of connection and then she released him to stand in front of her chair. isak stood up too. jan struck a match to light the candles.

even laughed and gamely clapped while they sang the birthday song. he watched isak spin around with a little flare, and isak genuinely enjoyed performing something he used to roll his eyes at. then even paused to make a wish and blew out the candles. isak knew he would ask him what he wished for later.

the cake was delicious, and they each had two slices. even tried to flick icing across the table at isak but sigrid threatened him with a spoon. “if you get icing on my wall you are cleaning it up, birthday boy.” even agreed to those terms and kept trying. then jan left the table for the bedroom, and returned by sliding a tall, skinny cardboard box through the kitchen. it had a blue bow stuck on top, which was enough, since it would’ve taken an obscene amount of wrapping paper to cover the whole thing.

“eh?” even stood to look at the box.

“happy birthday, dearest.” sigrid looked very proud of the gift and was enjoying even’s puzzlement. jan stepped back and let even walk around it. they had to hold it at the top so it wouldn’t fall over.

“it’s heavy….” even’s eyes scanned each side. “is…did you get me a bed?” he gripped the box to turn it around, showing sigrid and isak the diagram on the other side. it was, in fact, a bed. “thank you,” even whispered, without much conviction.

“it looks like a nice bed,” isak added, coming around the table to look at the dimensions. “we can get the guys to help us carry it upstairs.”

“oh no! no!” sigrid nearly yelled. “it’s not for—it’s for the cabin. you don’t have to carry it anywhere. pappa and i will take it up on our next trip and build it in your room, so now you’ll have a proper bed for when you and isak visit. i didn’t want those flimsy beds from when you were a kid stopping you from staying in ålesund.”

even’s face relaxed as his mother explained and the bed made more sense. he leaned the box against the nearest counter edge and moved around it to give sigrid a hug. “thank you,” he said again, with actual gratitude. “that’s such a lovely gesture for the both of us.” he pressed a heavy kiss on sigrid’s cheek and isak saw her squeeze her eyes closed. she was going to cry. she let out a tiny gasp when even pulled back. he went to jan to give him a hug as well, and sigrid turned away from them to hide her tears. but isak stepped in and opened his arms for a hug as well, and she fell into his chest and let loose against his sweater.

“thank you, sigrid. that means so much to us.” he rubbed her back to calm her down. “let us know when you’d like a family vacation and we’ll try to clear our schedules for it, okay?” her blonde hair scratched at his chin as she nodded. isak knew it was a big promise, committing to a vacation with his boyfriend’s parents, but that seemed to be the least they could do since they bought them a bed. aside from the literal comfort they were providing, it felt like a grander statement since the gift would serve both of them. isak felt like it was his birthday too.

when even and his father separated, jan peeled off the bow and stuck it to even’s chest. they shared a low chuckle, and then jan slid the box back to the bedroom where it had been hiding. “you know, if we have a van, it will be a lot easier to transport this up there!” he sang as he left. isak let go of sigrid and spun into even’s arms. she plucked a napkin off the table to wipe at her tears while isak was crushed into a hug with the bow.

“we’ll keep the little mattresses, of course. you never know when elias and mutta and mikael want to come for a visit too. but yes, this will be a nicer frame for you both.”

“it’s such a thoughtful gift, mamma. thank you so much.”

“you know…i thought of it as soon as you came back from your first trip, when you brought back the clean sheets and blanket. it might’ve been presumptuous but if…if isak was having a nice time then i thought he might want to come back, and then i wanted it to be ready, and you two could have your own space.”

isak laughed as he pulled out of even’s hug. he kept to his side though, and wrapped an arm around even’s waist. “you were very right to presume. though i suspect i would’ve had a wonderful time even if i had to sleep on the floor.”

sigrid looked horrified when he suggested such a crime, but that just made even laugh. jan reappeared. “oh i forgot to bring these out.” he was carrying a colorful quilt and coordinating linens, also with a blue bow on top. even let go of isak to accept them, and both boys admired the pattern.

“pappa helped me pick those out. they were on sale after christmas. oh, and if you bring them back to the city to wash, you could just use them on your regular bed too. everything fits.” sigrid returned to her pleased homemaker attitude, with any remaining tears in her eyes only there out of pride. she’d surprised her son with a useful and enjoyable gift, that doubled as a reason for him to visit her at the cabin. it was a very successful birthday dinner.

―――

they enjoyed a little bit of champagne in the living room before they left, relaxing on the couches and catching up on the skiing gossip from sigrid and jan’s most recent trip. isak disclosed that he hasn’t skied since he was very young, which sent even giggling, picturing his boyfriend flying down the slopes. “this might be even better than my skateboarding fantasy.” luckily neither sigrid nor jan inquired further into what that fantasy actually was.

when isak noticed the time was getting close to seven he made the gentle suggestion to head home. sigrid and jan were happy to let them go, having enjoyed the whole bottle together and noting their earlier bedtime now that they were getting older. but she also demanded photos once they were standing, so isak took a few pictures of even with his parents and then jan took a few of isak and even alone. they had to brainstorm a way to take a picture of all four of them together, but then sigrid cleared a small space on the fireplace mantle to rest a phone. Even set the timer, they lined up with the boys in the middle, and they wrapped their arms around each other. they smiled.

after another round of hugs and kisses they bundled up and went home. isak carried the new linens in an oversized shopping tote over his shoulder. “that went well, yes?” isak looked over to see even nodding into his scarf. he pressed the button for their stop.

“it was really lovely. i had to, like, constantly remind my brain to not interpret what she was saying negatively, but that’s…what i’m supposed to be doing.” they stepped off the bus carefully, navigating the packed snow on the sidewalk. “maybe after a few more visits it will be less of a conscious effort. but even as it was, i enjoyed myself. i liked seeing you with my parents.”

“speaking of me with your parents, i kind of promised sigrid we would go on a family vacation with her to ålesund.”

isak could barely hear the chuckle underneath the scarf but it was there. “i think that was a given. that was the whole point of the bed. it was quite clever on mamma’s part.”

“mm,” isak agreed. “so we’ll have to start looking at our schedules. and now we have the weekend farmer’s market to take into account.”

even’s laugh was louder and drew his mouth up above the warm wool. “he really has leaned into his gardening in the last year, jesus. if you had asked me five years ago what hobby i thought my dad would pick up next, i never would’ve thought ‘fruits and vegetables.’”

“forget hobbies; he’s halfway to his own business.”

they approached their building. isak had his own key now, and he unlocked the first door for them.

“what are you thinking about?”

isak was thinking about the surprise that was waiting for them upstairs, feeling nervous that he didn’t have any texts with updates, even though he didn’t ask for any. but he quickly thought up a work excuse that would explain his distance. “um, how maybe someone from jakob’s team might be interested in profiling jan. has there been a surge of home gardens lately? what’s the process for joining a farmer’s market? how profitable is it to bring produce into the city from a farm versus urban, hyperlocal crops? what resources are there for farmers when it comes to direct-to-consumer sales?” he felt ridiculous spitting out these ideas because they were rushing out without a filter yet they sounded somewhat legitimate. he really should be putting these questions in a voice memo, but even was climbing the stairs in front of him and that was…well that took priority.

the bag of linens landed with a light thump on top of isak’s pile of shoes. they removed their outerwear slowly as they climbed, hanging everything back up. isak listened for noises but didn’t hear anything over the shuffle of their own clothes. there wasn’t any light coming through under the door. and even—even was still undressing. isak reached up and tugged at his belt. “what are you doing?” he hissed. even threw his sweater and undershirt over his shoulder, and they skimmed isak’s head as they fluttered down the steps.

“getting naked. wanna help?” even was still climbing and his hands were at his belt buckle.

“even, no!” isak was torn between holding his boyfriend back and trying to reach for his shirt, while also not pulling them both down the stairs.

“what…what’s going on? you love when i get naked.”

isak blushed, praying whoever was on the other side of the door was far enough away to not hear them. maybe they were hanging out in the living room. even undid his belt but he did stop climbing to look at isak.

“do you want me to blow you down there?” he pointed down to the graffiti door and isak was going to melt from the flames burning his neck.

“shut up, no, just….” he stumbled down the steps to fetch the sweater and chucked it back up at even. “put this back on. we can’t be naked.”

“why not?” even was seriously confused but he did as isak asked. “we always get naked.”

isak pinched the bridge of his nose. “not tonight, okay babe?”

even dropped his sweater and his jaw. “is this…is this the first time you’re saying ‘no’ to a fuck?”

“even! i’m not—that’s not what this is. just please put your clothes back on until…until later or something.”

even reached into the pocket of his sagging pants and pulled out his phone. “i need to document this. for the record.” he snapped a photo of isak staring up at him with an annoyed look on his face. “this was the first time isak denied me.” even snorted. “it looks like you’re about to give me a very angry blowjob though.” he showed isak the photo.

if he weren’t so frustrated by the situation, isak would’ve laughed. that’s exactly what the photo looked like with that angle. unfortunately isak’s face just made even want to persuade him even more, so even tucked his phone under his chin and promptly shoved his pants down to his ankles. he was wearing bright red boxer briefs and he shook his ass in isak’s face. then, before isak could get a grip on his body, sexual or otherwise, even waddled up the few remaining steps and reached for the door. isak screamed, “NO!” at the same time as their kitchen, full of friends and coworkers, screamed “SURPRISE!” at a nearly naked even.

maja screamed, marius howled, and mikael took approximately 50 photos, the flash of his phone camera lighting up the kitchen like a red carpet. isak was so embarrassed he sank down behind even’s legs. even laughed and made no move to get dressed.

“pull up your motherfucking pants even! i came here for your birthday, not a peep show.” kari anne's booming voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

it did not occur to isak until just then that all of their friends were not just seeing even in his underwear—they were seeing even’s boner in his underwear. so despite isak’s desire to melt into a puddle right there on the steps, he now felt enough possessiveness to lunge forward and pull up even’s pants from behind. it was a challenge to dress someone blind, especially when that someone was a giggly, wriggly mess. isak got a flash of the kind of future where he was getting a toddler dressed, but he had no time for that future right then. he got even’s jeans up to his butt and then he had to forcibly turn his boyfriend around in order to navigate his bulge.

“looks like dinner with the parents went well, then!” elias shouted out, making everyone laugh again and isak’s cheeks turn an impossible red.

“oh, babe.” even finally noticed isak’s general struggle. he took over with his pants and hefted them up to his waist. “i’m sorry. i should have listened to you. but this was amazing and hilarious. are you okay?” he buttoned his jeans and cupped isak’s jaw.

isak was still too flustered to say anything. his eyes darted from even’s face to the gleeful faces behind him, checking to see who was still laughing. “come on, bedroom.” even started walking isak backward toward the privacy of their bedroom. “five minutes!” he announced to everyone else.

“i thought you only needed two!” someone else shouted back.

―――

the laughter and voices faded as soon as the door closed. isak spun around and flopped himself on the bed face first. “surprise,” he mumbled. even collapsed on top of him, blanketing him with rough denim and warm skin.

“this was the best surprise ever. i’m sorry i embarrassed you with my penis.” even added a little thrust as if that would convey sincerity. the heat that flushed isak’s cheeks now was a slightly different kind. even nuzzled his face against isak’s cheek and gave him a few kisses. “i’ll get dressed and we can hang out with my favorite people.”

even pushed up and went to the closet. he swapped out his jeans for grey sweatpants and put on a white t-shirt. isak kept his jeans but opted for a clean white t-shirt too. even swept isak into a hug before they went through the door. “i love you in general and i love you for this. thank you for such a nice gift, and the perfect way to relax after the family dinner.” he squeezed across isak’s back and then shifted his head in for a kiss. isak demanded tongue as part of even’s apology and he got it, a nice open, wet kiss that tasted like champagne. even grunted when they parted. “um, yes. friends first, but then we’re definitely revisiting the naked thing.”

isak agreed with an aggressive grip on even’s ass. even kissed his way out of it and wiggled toward the door.

the kitchen roared with another greeting when they appeared, birthday wishes thrown from every direction. even opened his arms and accepted all of them with a wide smile. “thank you all for coming. this is such a fun surprise, and i clearly had no idea.”

“it was a fun surprise for us as well,” kari anne smirked.

“since we’re all here and there is a grotesque amount of alcohol behind mutta, have we agreed to absolutely ruin our sunday night?” another cheer went up. isak moved around even to get to the counter by mutta.

as requested, everyone bought the alcohol isak had assigned them and paid for. he couldn’t bring much into the apartment on his own without raising suspicion, so he spread out the drinks, food, and decorations among their friends. maja and marius picked up a cake from a bakery on their side of town. mutta and kari anne brought most of the alcohol. sana and yousef brought food from mamma bakkoush, enough to last them at least a week. elias and mikael were on decorations & entertainment duty. their friends had started drinking, as was to be expected when you’re trapped in an apartment for a couple of hours. since everyone had helped themselves to the juice and ice in the fridge, isak didn’t bother with setting anything else up. he searched for sana in the small crowd, who was chatting with mikael by the entrance to the hallway. when he caught her eye he nodded a question and she held up a full glass in response. with her taken care of he mixed up a dark & stormy for even.

“here you go, babe.” he only interrupted even’s conversation with marius and maja to put the cup in his hand. then he went back to the counter to assess the food. yousef joined him to point out the options.

“all of even’s favorites. mamma didn’t leave the kitchen all morning. this…this tray is okay. these two should be reheated a bit.”

“okay, thanks.” isak reached over to start the oven.

“and this we actually eat cold sometimes, so it would be fine as is.”

they figured out the food and then isak moved on to the living room. everyone was still in the kitchen, so isak got to see the decoration efforts as intended. streamers looped colorfully from even’s shelves, carefully taped as to not disturb his toys. balloons hovered at the ceiling, their strings becoming vines that dusted isak’s shoulders. on the coffee table was a pile of markers and a large brown envelope. he went right to the envelope to see what was inside. “yesssss.” isak dumped out the contents and spread them out. he had found ten particularly embarrassing photos, a mix of recent shots from isak and childhood ones from sigrid, that he’d ordered temporary tattoos of. he had a good feeling that this group was going to get very creative with the placement. in the very least he knew exactly where he wanted a tattoo of even on his own body. he practically skipped back out to the kitchen to get water and a sponge.

everyone had started eating, so isak joined the queue for a little bit of the bakkoush cuisine. no matter how full they were, isak and even would always make room for mamma’s food. isak refreshed even’s drink and then led some people into the living room to eat, for more seating. even stayed in the kitchen at the table with sana, yousef, and kari anne.

maja screamed again when she saw the tattoos. she and marius abandoned their food immediately and took the sponge to the bathroom. three minutes later marius returned with at least four evens plastered across his face. then he dared mikael to do even more. after that, it was chaos.

elias tried to tie a balloon to the back of sana’s hijab. kari anne was the first one to get a tattoo of even on her ass cheek. mutta and mikael started doing shots, and marius and maja were caught making out in the stairwell when it was time to break open the markers on the door. their defense was that maja could stand on one step above marius and they would be a closer height for kissing.

“like my apartment is the only place with steps, get the fuck out.” isak shoved marius against the door. but that’s exactly where everyone stayed. they all shared the markers and wrote silly birthday messages to even on the door, reading old ones and laughing, and recording new jokes that they now all shared. the graffiti door was due for an update and everyone got a chance to leave their mark. isak made sure no one wrote over his original “shithead,” and he added a couple more questionable names wherever they fit.

unfortunately marius convinced maja to paint her lips with marker ink and kiss the door, but then she was stuck with deep purple lips. sana immediately dragged her up to the bathroom to start exfoliating. isak had to console maja from the doorway. “i’ll get emma to give me some lipsticks that would cover it up if it doesn’t come off.”

“matte,” sana instructed.

isak opened his recording app and noted that: “matte lipsticks from emma for maja.”

“anything from a maroon to a magenta should cover it up.” isak added that. “in the meantime, here, you can use this.” sana pulled a tube of lipstick out of her small crossbody bag and opened a drawer. she plucked an alcohol wipe from where even kept them next to the tweezers and cleaned off the tube and used lipstick. she handed it to maja and maja looked like she was about to cry from the gesture. sana nipped it in the bud with a glare and a single finger held up in maja’s face. “just be glad your friends are so clean.”

isak blushed, assuming sana knew that they had those wipes to clean their toys. but then marius burst into the bathroom, shoving isak aside. “baby, it looks like we just kissed too hard for a little bit. ‘cheer up! a hickey from kenickie is like a hallmark card,’” he quoted in his best american accent. this actually made maja cry so isak excused himself and went to get more alcohol.

eventually yousef was tasked with getting mutta and mikael home. marius gave maja a piggy back ride down four flights of stairs and across the city. they found kari anne had removed her pants and crawled into their bed, so they left her there. sana, even, and elias collapsed onto the couch and giggled their way through a nonsense conversation the way siblings do. isak put the food away, got water for them all, and then joined them on the floor with his giant pillows. even found grease on the tv and they watched and sang along with the few bits they knew. then isak fell asleep, his fingers wrapped lightly around even’s ankle and his head resting against even’s knee.

[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

[isiratrieswriting]

Teatime Proposal

“So.”

“Yes?”

“I found a ring in my teacup.”

“How fortunate. Now go bother someone else.”

“But this is too sudden, why, we haven’t met your parents yet and there’s also… Wait, what?”

“What?”

“Did you not put the ring there?”

“Right now I can think of 4 different ways of choking you, none of which involves rings.”

“So this is not a proposal?”

“I have a proposal for you: why don’t you shut up and let me enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“No, wait. I mean, is this not a marriage proposal? From you?”

“Why, in the name of all that’s good and sweet, would I ever, ever, do that?”

“But what about all the times we went out together? We went to the department store every week, we explored around the city, you showed me how to navigate the public transport system here, helped me with my city permits and paperwork and-wait, is this what people normally do on dates? ”

“No. Those are errands. I only ever accompanied you because the landlady insisted. There’s no way a country hillbilly like you would ever survive in this city. She was very adamant that I keep you safe until you could learn to get by on your own.”

“Well, you’re always bringing me baked goods, saying you made extra! Like almost every single day! Weren’t you simply being coy and looking for a reason to see me?”

“You know I work at the landlady’s bakery downstairs. We don’t want things to go to waste, so we deliver the extra at the end of the day to the building residents. Come to think of it, the landlady always packs your delivery herself.”

“But just yesterday! After we got groceries, well I mean, after you helped me with my groceries, you asked if I wanted to get married! Under the moonlight, by the river! There was even a cute little boat nearby and everything! Just like in the movies! Hah, explain that!”

“I said, ‘Would you like to get ferried?’ It was getting very late and the ferry’s the shortest route from the market.”

“Don’t we always take the bus?”

“Because the ferry makes me a bit seasick. But the landlady had been blowing my phone up with her texts, asking if you were okay and why you weren’t back yet. So I thought I’ll just deal with it and get this over with.”

“Well. This is an exceedingly embarrassing situation to be in.”

“Quite right”. 

“All this while I’ve been thinking you were in love with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I wish I had choked on that ring instead.”

“Not too late for that. Here, I’ll pour you some more tea. Drink up.”

Later that day

“A ring in his teacup? Really, Ms. Landlady?”

“He choked on it, didn’t he? I knew I should have put it in the bread instead.”

prompt from here https://www.eadeverell.com/flash-fiction-prompts/

[ackerfics]

all there's left to do is run — mikasa ackerman.

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (historical setting)

— warnings: none

— summary: love story but it’s gay, basically ;> (bc ever since i heard taylor’s re-recording of love story, i could not get this idea off my brain)

— word count: 4.2k  

> we were both young when i first saw you  

The night was sparkling with extravagance and for such a girl like you, the chandeliers all seemed like those stars you read from astronomy books late at night, all burning and showering brightly that you had to look away. Of course, you continued looking up at the lights until your head got dizzy from tilting your head too high. You can faintly hear your mother scold you for doing something so unbecoming for a lady yet you continued adoring the stars in the ceiling of the castle your family owned, decorated to celebrate your tenth birthday. 

Your parents deemed it necessary to force you to wrap yourself in the most voluptuous gown you had ever seen in your life. As the daughter of the only Marquess in your kingdom, you were always expected to be tamed your whole life — dancing lessons that sprained your foot because of a couple of twirls in your ballroom, etiquette that became the reason for adults to scream at you to be better, tea parties that suffocated you with varying reasons, and all those dreaming in your head every time all of these happened. Being the daughter of the third most powerful person in your kingdom meant that these lessons will decide if you will be a good wife. And now that you are another year closer to being a lady of marriage age (being twelve since it was your birthday), it meant these lessons will double the load and will most likely take away your time.

A fact that you always disdained.

You were meant to be so much more. You always envisioned a life in the countryside, if the Fates were kind enough when they were trying to place you in society. You wanted extravagance but never this.

So you sneaked out of the party thrown for you, giggles flittering in the moonlit night and feet bringing you to the rose garden your mother liked to tend to. The flowers in the garden were one of the rarest to be seen in your kingdom, most of them on the verge of extinction, and the more you admired them, the more they shone before you. Dewdrops were forming in almost every petal inside the garden, the rain a few hours ago the culprit in making this part of the estate calmer than it already was. Swaying to the beat that can still be heard from the double doors, you took a single kadupul flower and placed it behind your ear. You were finally free to twirl however you want and you did just that, laughs searing the night as the moment turned into a memory that could never be forgotten. The grass felt cool under you as you draped yourself on the slightly wet terrain, staring into the dome of constellations you wholeheartedly admired.

The stars seem brighter than they usually are tonight.

“Hello, are you alright over there?”

Just like that, your peaceful night was ruined by a tentative voice coming from one of the bushes. You were told to never stray from your parents and ladies-in-waiting whenever you go to the stores, above all — to never talk to strangers no matter how young they are. Children you don’t know are much peskier to shoo away than those meddlers we encounter on our shopping trips, was what your mother grumbled one time. The voice meekly asking for your condition belonged to a girl around your age. Sure enough, a girl came from the shadows, hands clinging on the red scarf wrapped around her neck.

The girl in front of you looked star-struck. She was staring at you as if you held the universe in your small, dainty hands. The young mistress of the Palace of Flowers was a familiar face in all of the servants, seeing as you were a very adventurous child growing up, always dashing through the halls and paying the servants a much-needed visit. During these visits was the first time the dark-haired girl saw you. Though you were dressed in a more casual dress than the spell-binding gown you wore for the night, the girl thought you were the most beautiful person she ever saw. Her breath hitched when she realized you were waiting for her to speak up. Instead, she nearly hid her face in her scarf and dipped her form in a less graceful bow.

“Y-Young Mistress.”

“You can sit with me if you like,” you whispered to her as if there was someone in the vicinity eavesdropping. Your hands were cupped around your mouth so that the girl could hear what you were saying. “I’m whispering because the night is too peaceful to be interrupted.”

“Oh.” The dark-haired girl became flustered in a second and immediately plopped herself beside you, hands on her lap as she looked at anywhere but you. The children serving the family of the Marquess were told to never address the noble family informally. After a few minutes of silence, she cleared her throat to catch your attention, uttering the words that you heard throughout the night. “H-Happy b-birthday, young mistress.”

“Thank you.” The smile you gave her was brighter than the flower you carried in your hair.

The girl was wringing her fingers to calm down the beating of her heart. “I briefly saw you dancing in the ballroom while I was serving the deserts.” She looked at you straight in the eye with a glint of shyness. “You dance so well.”

You giggled, facing the girl with an eager expression. “What’s your name?”

“Mi-Mikasa,” the dark-haired girl answered with wide eyes.

Leaning back, you took out the flower you placed tucking your stray hairs, and tucked it behind Mikasa’s ear. You stood up with a huff, offering a hand to the gray-eyed girl. You slightly bowed as if you were the boy you were dancing with earlier. Mikasa was watching you with eyes full of wonder, her face flushed at seeing the young mistress of the palace bowing in front of her.

“Can I be your dance partner for the night, Lady Mikasa?”

It seemed like the entire garden was meant to be the ballroom for you two when Mikasa finally placed her hand on yours.

“It would be an honor, young mistress.”

> we keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

“Did you sneak out from your lessons again?”

Three years since your first meeting with Mikasa and she was still the same — tolerating your behavior of throwing away your responsibilities of being the young mistress to enjoy her company. For three years, nobody knew where you disappear off from except for the dark-haired girl’s friends in the village down the hill who work under the head maid of the estate. Your rendezvous with the dark-haired girl always included random things that you came up with but mostly, it was you bringing books and activities you wanted to share with her and Mikasa letting you taste her cooking. At this point, the garden wasn’t enough for the two of you. This made Mikasa open up to you about her safe space, a small meadow down by the lake of your family’s estate. It was closer to where the dark-haired girl was residing and she wasn’t wrong when she said you would love it.

You sat down beside her on the picnic blanket with a huff. “Tell me about it. It was another round of etiquette that I had to master. It sounds like another skill I had to unlock.” The tantalizing smell of buttered bread wafted from the basket laid in front of you two perking you up from your sulking. “You baked bread?”

Mikasa nodded with a small smile, eyes soft as she watched you squeal in happiness. Every day, you grew more beautiful than the first day she saw you five years ago in the kitchens trying to help Missus Springer bake the afternoon treats.

“I tried learning your favorite bread earlier,” Mikasa told you, reaching out a hand to gently brush away the sugar from the corner of your lips. “I hope this was to your liking.”

“Have I ever told you that your cooking is the absolute best, Mikasa?” you gushed with eyes filled with stars dedicated to the girl sitting beside you, leaning forward until inches separated you from the girl’s shocked visage.

The dark-haired girl turned red in the face at the proximity. “About a thousand times now probably.”

You smiled brightly at the information. “And I’ll still repeat it to you until you get tired of it.”

“I will never get tired of it. I will never get tired of you.”

Now, both of you donned an endearing shade of cerise on your cheeks the moment Mikasa finished saying those words. It was a first for the gray-eyed beauty to say such things, you were always the one initiating the physical contact and compliments. However, there was something underlying in Mikasa’s words that reminded you of that night you asked her to dance. You prayed to any deity that she wouldn’t hear how loud your heart was beating. You weren’t children anymore and you were starting to see the tranquil girl basked in another light — the words she uttered were just the catalyst in doing so. Your mother will be out for blood for this. It completely flew out of your head that the distance between you two gradually diminishes as Mikasa also started to lean forward, head tilted and eyes cast to your parted lips.

“Hey,” she uttered your name so softly that it was making your face warmer than it already is, “have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”

Always so blunt that it took your breath away.

“If not, I’ll be saying those words until you get tired of it.”

“Mikasa,” you whispered against the softness of her lips.

You faintly registered the hand that nestled on the back of your neck, bringing you closer to her while burrowing her fingers in the unbound locks of your hair. The scent of first love became apparent as the wind breezed through you the moment Mikasa’s lips found their way against yours in a tryst of forbidden storylines fit for a melodrama. A hopeful melancholy was the words to describe the scenario as you placed your hands gently on Mikasa’s cheeks, reciprocating the kiss she shyly yet determinedly gave you, the colors of a first kiss painting the meadow into a memory that will make you two immortal in each other’s minds.

There were no overbearing mothers, no nosy friends, no responsibilities — it was just you and Mikasa embracing, with the flowers as the witnesses of the start of your story.

> take me somewhere we can be alone

You shook your head in disbelief, lips curled in disgust and hands clenching on the skirts of your dress. “You can’t be serious?”

“You must understand that you are of age now. A husband is everything in a woman’s life, how can you say something so outrageous like not accepting Duke Montague’s proposal for marriage?” Your mother all but screamed her frustrations. Every single lesson of proper etiquette and manners, honing you into a lady worth your status, all came down to this moment. Both you and your mother were seeing red for different reasons after the horrid letter was presented by your estate’s messenger, Connie. Your mother growled your name, “Have you lost your mind?! What possessed you if you were planning on denying this opportunity? Not only does this benefit the family but you as well. You’re going to be a duchess, for heaven’s sake, that position begets luxury!”

“Your mother is right,” your father, the Marquess, tried to soothe the growing tension inside the parlor, though his words sent a blow to your cowering resolve. “You are the heiress of the House and we will do everything in our power to make sure you stay afloat the societal hierarchy. By doing that, we will make sure you’re going to marry the Duke.”

“But—“

“We won’t take no for an answer.” Your father looked at you straight in the eye, hands gripping the armrest of the chair, before saying, “You need to bear a son for our bloodline to continue.”

You abruptly stood up, your mind too fogged to conjure a proper response. Instead of taking out your anger on your parents (which will most likely lead to them taking away your only chance of seeing Mikasa), you made your way out of the parlor. Your mother’s calls resonating through the large palace as your heels clicked on the polished hallways. Upon passing by a large mirror on your way to the gardens, the sight of you in one of your day gowns sent bile rushing through your throat. You looked anything like those trophy wives the men adored to parade. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head and continued to your destination.

It was your regular rendezvous with Mikasa. The kiss that happened that day only drew you two closer rather than creating a wedge between your budding relationship. Oh, how you wish you can turn back time and let it loop only at that memory. A dull ache started to form in your chest at the intensity of the news you were about to tell your secret lover. With shaking hands, the meadow that calmed you the years past became foreboding as each step now led you beside a sitting Mikasa. 

“I heard.”

Mikasa’s words made you stop. She turned to you, giving you a view of her conflicted face. Three years have passed since you shared your first kiss with each other. Three years of hiding in the tall flowers of the meadow and behind curtains. Three years and Mikasa looked even more beautiful than ever. 

“Mikasa,” you weakly pleaded.

“You were always destined for something great,” the dark-haired girl started, her emotions now seeping through the carefully-crafted mask she created while growing up. She fumbled with her words as she threw her hands in the air, visibly frustrated at everything (at herself, at the Marquess and Marchioness, at every noble existing in your kingdom — but never at you). “You’re this heiress people were expecting tremendous things from and I’m just me. You’re so beautiful that it pains me to see you being fawned at during balls. You’re so talented that I’m afraid it will be put to waste by being with me. You’re so amazing to me.”

You pleaded for her to stop, sitting down beside her with your skirts fanning out around you, but Mikasa only continued, “Yet here I am — someone who doesn’t even have a family, who was only adopted by one of the maids in the castle, who recently found out I had an uncle that doesn’t want anything to do with me.” The way she uttered your name was nothing like the caresses you were so fond of. Mikasa placed both of her hands over your cheeks, now wet with tears that you didn’t even notice. “I’m nobody compared to you and that’s the truth.”

She tenderly placed her forehead against yours as your breath hitched from quietly sobbing. 

“I’ll find a way,” you pleaded again.

Mikasa shook her head desperately, trying to anchor you to reality. “No. You have to accept this proposal from the Duke.”

“But it’s you who I fell deeply for, not him!”

“You will grow to love him, flower, your heart is so big and kind that it would be impossible—“

“That’s preposterous!” You threw your arms around her neck, her hands finding their way around your corseted waist. “I’ll find a way to get out of this mess. We’ll go far away and live a comfortable life in a cabin or a cottage. I want it beside a lake, Mikasa. I want to run away with you and make this dream a reality because I can’t imagine a life without you in it!”

Mikasa could only tighten her hold around your shaking form, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Under the afternoon sun, you once again sealed your lips with hers, promises burning along with the feelings you have for each other.

> and my daddy said, "stay away,” but you were everything to me

Mikasa was called to the study of the Marquess. Various scenarios passed through the dark-haired girl, her hand poised on twisting the doorknob. She took a deep breath, never noticing how the maid beside her (most likely the chambermaid of the Marchioness) appeared to have a sinister smile on her face. The churning in Mikasa’s stomach intensified as she opened the double doors and let herself in the grand room. The chamber was the size of their entire house and it took Mikasa a full second to reign herself and not linger her eyes on your huge portrait (you looked regal — a competitor against the Queen’s beauty). Straightening her posture, Mikasa schooled her features into that mask she perfected and faced your father with a stony countenance.

The Marquess didn’t pay attention to the presence of one of his staff. The tea preoccupied with his thoughts, perfectly brewed to his liking and figuring that he would thank one of the kitchen staff for preparing the beverage on such a dreaded day. The older man wiped his mouth with a handkerchief before regarding Mikasa.

“Miss Ackerman.”

“Marquess, sir.”

Your father hummed contemplatively. “Have you heard of the proposal of Duke Montague, Miss Ackerman?”

Mikasa’s eyebrows furrowed at your father’s words. It was phrased like a casual question but the way that he spoke reminded her that she was only a servant living within his estate. It reminded her of the rift between you two and her breath shuddered. Surely, the Marquess had never ventured to the meadows and discovered their secret, right? That would mean you were also in grave trouble and it was all Mikasa’s fault. Still, the dark-haired girl nodded at your father’s question.

“Very well.”

He leaned back on his chair, satisfied at the pliable nature of the girl standing in front of him. He heard many stories of the girl’s family — slaughtered by bandits at the dead of the night when the child was only nine years old (her parents were also working under him), wherein she was then adopted by one of the maids’ family, and now decided to work as one of the kitchen staff at a young age. It was something he didn’t want to happen to his daughter. He also didn’t want his daughter mingling with the help, much less sharing kisses in the meadow just a short walk from the main palace’s gardens. The maid who led Mikasa to his study was the one who witnessed such atrocity. It was the day when they told you that you were bound to be married. It looked like you sought comfort from someone, and the Marquess didn’t expect that someone to be a female help. 

“You understand that I would have to tell you to stop meeting with my daughter by the meadows.”

The maid at the door was now smiling like Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat. 

Mikasa felt a cold wave rush through every part of her body, her gaze now caught in a daze on the floor.

“If you’re not going to do that, you might as well say goodbye to living in my land, Miss Ackerman. My daughter has an entire future waiting for her and I can’t afford to let it jeopardize right in front of my eyes by some measly servant girl.” The Marquess had the nerve to look sympathetic yet his eyes told a different story by being cruel. “I heard that you found out about a long-lost relative in the countryside so,” the older man paused, “which will it be, Miss Ackerman?”

Mikasa was left with no choice.

> they're tryna tell me how to feel, this love is difficult, but it's real

The slap resounded through the four walls of your chamber.

At the exact time Mikasa was confronted with your father, you were reprimanded by your mother after the maid made use of the scene she witnessed in the meadows after following you out. It was a good thing that the said maid wasn’t inside your room at the moment. You would have thrown the vase on your bedside table at her instead of your mother right now, everything was mentally envisioned of course. You didn’t have the strength to retaliate with your mother, much less lift your gaze to level your eyes with the older woman’s.

“You are an abomination! What were you thinking?! You have been keeping this for how many years? You are a disgrace to the family! You are a lady, for heaven’s sake, and you go brandishing your skirt to another woman. This is a scandal fit for the century! Oh, my, my stress levels.” Your mother then draped herself on the couch at the foot of your bed, leaving you to stand in front of her with your head down. “Stop what you’re feeling for that girl this instant. I don’t want this to travel around the kingdom, unleashing gossip in its wake. A girl! What blasphemy. If only you can show that to Duke Montague as well when you two marry. Maybe I have raised you wrong, your lessons might be lacking in some sense.”

“Mother.” Similar-colored eyes stared at each other, making the room feel smaller. “I will do no such thing. I will never marry a man I know I won’t come to love. I won’t listen to you prattle about hierarchies and social standing. I won’t stop loving Mikasa if that is the last thing I’ll do. I’m so sick of you labeling me as a disgrace if I so ever made a little mistake in those idiotic lessons you forced me to do. I’m so tired of hearing you continuously proclaiming to everyone that I am willing to open my legs to a higher-ranking noble to save my reputation. To hell with that! Call me an abomination for loving someone I truly care about, I don’t care. Mikasa means the world to me and she’s the only person I could ever be real with. Shun me if that’s the only solution but I won’t stop loving the only person who has ever made me feel loved and special in my entire life.”

The silence was deafening and your heaves of breath rang loud in your chambers. Your mother’s posture now straightened, her eyes cold as she dragged her stare over your form. “You’re not to go out of this room until Duke Montague comes to this palace for your hand in marriage. You have no say in this matter.”

That night, you were ready to throw everything you could hold inside your room but a constant tap on your windows made your breath stop. Glancing at the locked doors of your room, you made your way to the doors leading to the balcony. Again, they were locked so you took the vase and slammed it on the doorknob, the sound rattling through your room and into the hallways. You hastily opened the doors and went out to lean over the balcony.

Mikasa’s eyes brightened at the sight of you. She was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt tucked inside a pair of trousers and a dark cloak. Excitement bubbled inside your chest at the prospect of running away with her in the dead of the night.

“Jump,” Mikasa whispered. “I’ll catch you.”

Looking back at the doors of your chambers, you didn’t think twice about slinging your leg over the balcony. You took a deep breath and prayed that Mikasa will catch you safely in her arms. The cold gush of the night breeze sent you shivering as you jumped down the balcony, only to hear the grunt from your lover with her arms securing you to her body. Gray eyes glinted against the moonlight and your mind was muddled with thoughts about her that the only thing you could say was, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mikasa softly replied before kissing you on the lips. “Come on, Eren already took a horse from the stables.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, letting yourself be carried by Mikasa as she tried not to make a loud noise while walking in the direction of the stables.

The dark-haired girl grinned. “To a place where we can love freely of course.”

> it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes" (we were both young when i first saw you)

“Mikasa, let me tell you a secret that you’re probably tired of.”

A chuckle came from your lover’s lips. “Tell me.”

“I always thought you were beautiful since the first time I saw you.”

“I’ll trade a real secret of mine for that.” She kissed you, basking underneath the sun’s rays. “I have always loved you since I saw you help Missus Springer with the afternoon treats when we were ten.”

“You were there?”

“Yes and I’m so happy I was there.”

“Mikasa, I’m so happy it’s you I fell in love with.”

“I love you more than the stars you always adored.”

[dear-evanrosier]

Christmas

It was a normal day in the Black House. Harry was back from his sixth year at Hogwarts at his godfathers' house. After James and Lily's deaths, Remus convinced Sirius to not go after Peter, since Harry needed him. They took him in and he had lived with them since. It was about eight in the morning of the second day back of the two-week break when he approached them, hoping to talk about something serious.

"Hey, Sirus, Remus, can I to you guys talk about something?" Harry asked, timidly sitting in a chair across from the pair, who were chatting over the Daily Prophet and drinking tea. They looked up to be met with a worried Harry, fiddling with a hole in his pajama bottoms. Remus set down the paper and shared a worried look with Sirius. "Of course, Harry. What is it?" Sirius spoke, folding his hands neatly in his lap before discretely grabbing Remus' hand without Harry noticing. He didn't know about them yet, since either man did not know how he would react.

Harry steeled himself and looked down, staring at the ring his boyfriend had given him a year before. "Ok. Well, I'm bi." He said it so quietly that they almost didn't hear him. "Oh. Harry, we don't care. We still love you." Remus told him, and Sirius gave his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. "I know. I know this doesn't change your opinion of me. But that's not all." Sirius looked back at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "I-I have a boyfriend. And we've been together since our fourth year." Remus, who was drinking a sip of his tea, spit it out and sprayed the hot liquid down his lap. Immediately letting go of Sirius, he hopped up and ran to the bathroom, trying to soothe the burn. "Fuck!" Harry watched as Remus pranced around the house trying to make his legs stop hurting, which was almost comical.

When Remus had finally changed his pants and applied a healing charm, he sat back down to a laughing Sirius and a Harry who was barely holding in his laughter, his whole body shaking with silent laughter. Remus sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing the tea far away from him. "Why didn't you tell us before, Harry?" He asked, once again grabbing Sirius' hand. "Well, I didn't know how you would react to who it is." Harry was twisting the snake around his finger absentmindedly. He had no idea how they hadn't noticed the silver wrapping around his finger with emerald green jewels for eyes. Not to mention the engraved initials, 'D.M' on the bottom. "Well, who is it?" Sirius asked, keeping his eyes on Harry the entire time. "I don't know if I should tell you just yet. I just wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else." They nodded, and Harry left the kitchen, hiding his hand with the ring in his pocket. He ran straight up to his room, setting a treat on the window for Hedwig while he wrote a letter.

Dear Draco,

I told Sirius and Remus that I was bi and that I had a boyfriend. They took it really well, but I'm not surprised. But Remus did burn his legs after spitting out his tea when I told them about you. I didn't tell them who you were though, since I didn't know how they would think of your family. But when I do tell them, I hope you can be there with me. I know it's only been two days since I've seen you, but I really miss you. How has your break been? Did you manage to tell your parents, or are you waiting till Christmas Eve? It's up to you really. And if you need anything at all, please owl me. I don't want you hurt or uncomfortable.

Love from your Scarface

Harry sealed the letter and put it in an envelope, just in time for Hedwig to fly in the window and eat the treat. He wrote 'Draco Malfoy' on the front, and tied the letter to her leg. "Take this to him, but don't get caught." He told her. She gave an affectionate nip of his fingers before flying out.

He smiled to himself and walked back down to the kitchen, getting the breakfast he hadn't eaten that morning. Walking in, he saw Sirius on the counter, Remus between his legs. Neither noticed Harry it seemed as Remus continued kissing Sirius' neck. They didn't break apart until they heard the cabinet door close. The couple whipped around to see Harry casually making some toast, not even paying a second glance to the two snogging. Harry finished heating the bread and turned to get some jam, but found him to be looking at Remus and Sirius, both very red and avoiding Harry's eyes. "You guys ok? You seem embarrassed." Harry asked, pulling out the jar and spreading generous amounts on the bread.

"Uh, this is not how we wanted you to find out," Sirius mumbled and Harry laughed. "Oh, I knew a while ago." He stated it as if it was a fact, and put the jar away, turning around and pouring himself some tea to add to his toast. "Wh-what? When did you find out? How did you find out?" Remus didn't understand how Harry knew, they were so careful. "Like the second year. You guys keep forgetting silencing charms, unlike me." He grabbed his plate and walked out of the kitchen, up to his own room.

Remus and Sirius stared at each other, comprehending what he just said. "Did he say that he doesn't forget silencing charms?" Remus asked, playing with a stray hair falling out of Sirius's hair. "I think he did. We'll have to talk to him about that." Sirius noted, and Remus nodded. "Do we have to do it right now, though? I'm sure we could wait just a little while." Sirius brushed his thumb over Remus' bottom lip and winked. "Of course not, love." And with that, Remus attacked his boyfriend's neck with more kisses, making sure he cast a silencing charm.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

It was hours later when Harry had gotten a response from Draco. He read it slowly, taking in the slanted writing that he loved.

Dear Harry,

I figured that they would take it well, it's quite obvious they have been dating. I can't believe that he burned his legs. He's usually more level headed, what was so surprising about it? I also hope I will be there when you tell them it's me. I want to be there for you-

Before he could read the rest of it, there was a knock on the door before it opened, giving him barely enough time to hide it under his leg without them seeing the name at the bottom. "Hey, Harry. Is that a letter from your boyfriend?" Sirius asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Harry nodded and readjusted his leg, making sure the writing was completely hidden. Remus smiled and moved to sit next to Sirius. Harry looked between the two, waiting for an explanation. "Er, am I in trouble or something? The last time you sat me down like this is was when I broke into the ministry and you almost..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to remember when he believed Sirius to be dead.  

"What did you mean when you said you don't forget silencing charms?" Sirius asked, just going for it. Harry relaxed and smiled. "Well, what do you think? We can't exactly use the room of requirement, people would know we were missing all the time. And when he's here, I don't want you guys to hear him talking to me. " Remus' eyebrows furrowed before Harry realized what he said and slapped a hand to his face. He's been in here?" Sirius asked, jumping up and knocking Remus off the bed. "Yeah. Twice. We didn't do anything just talked because he didn't want to go home." Remus nodded, but Sirius still looked suspicious.  "Whatever..." And they left Harry alone in his room, both still giving him suspicious looks. After making sure the door was locked, he continued reading the letter.

I want to be there for you when you tell them who I am. I really miss you too. The house has been unnaturally quiet since I got back, and I'm a little worried about it. But I may just be paranoid. I'm going to tell them on Christmas eve, just so I can work up the courage. Don't send a reply to this, I believe my father is going to start checking my mail. I love you, and I will tell you if I need anything.

Your Ferret

Harry smiled to himself and put the letter up, making sure he hid it under his pillow.

CHRISTMAS EVE

They were sitting in front of the fire, chatting merrily and sipping tea, all of them in Christmas pajamas Remus had gotten from a muggle clothing store. Remus and Sirius didn't try and get any more information out of Harry about his boyfriend, just teasing him about being able to keep it a secret for so long.  It was now almost ten o'clock when the fire turned bright green and a boy toppled out of it, crying and barely standing and covered in bruises, with a choked "Harry" coming from his mouth. Harry dashed to his side before his uncles even knew what was happening. He picked Draco up and set him on the couch, resting his hand on his leg. "Accio wand." The object flew from the couch opposite them. "Episkey." The bruises cleared quickly, but he still had some blood peeking out from under the neck of his shirt. He set the wand on the floor next to his foot.

"Dragon, breathe for me." Harry kept repeating, rubbing soothing circles over Draco's knee. His breathing slowed down and he looked at Harry. He wiped a few tears away, grabbing Draco's hands. "Tell me five things you see." Draco looked around the room. "The fireplace, your obnoxious scar, your glasses, and your uncles staring at us." Harry nodded. "I'll worry about them in a minute. Four things you feel." Harry placed a small kiss on his hand, and Draco gave a small smile. "Your hands, the couch, this really uncomfortable suit, and my socks." Harry nodded and kissed his hand again. "Three things you hear."  "Your house-elf grumbling upstairs, the fire, and your voice." Harry smiled. "Two things you smell." Draco took a deep breath. "Your cucumber lavender shampoo, which combination still makes no sense because who wants cucumber and lavender together unless it's in the hair of the cutest boy alive, and burnt cookies from your kitchen because you cannot bake to save your life." Harry chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not the one who baked this time. One thing you can taste." He swallowed and more tears came, which Harry wiped away. "The mint I had right before I told them."

"Ok." He placed a quick kiss on Draco's mouth before sitting on the couch next to him. "Will you tell me what happened?" Draco just looked down at his lap to where their hands were still together. He fiddled with the snake ring on Harry's finger, which the two adults finally took notice of. "Crucio." It was a choked sob, but Harry still understood it. "Ok, come on." He grabbed Draco's hand and his wand and walked to the foot of the stairs before remembering something and turning around.

"Er, I'll be back in a few minutes." He told Remus and Sirius, who was still surprised the boy had come from nowhere. He took Draco up to his room, finding some pajama's for him to wear. "Here, love. Put these on." He passed him some flannel bottoms and a snitch tee shirt. Harry left the room to pull some muggle ointments from the bathroom cabinet. He came back to his room with Draco just pulling the pants above his hips. Harry caught sight of a large gash diagonally across his collar bone. He gasped and Draco gulped, not wanting him to see that. He quickly pulled the shirt over his head, wincing when it grazed the cut. "Dray..." Harry reached forward, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Draco grimaced and pulled away, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. Harry walked downstairs as fast as possible, needing a different spell.

"Is there a spell to heal large cuts?" He asked, breathless from practically running down the stairs. Remus and Sirius were on the couch, quietly talking when Harry ran in there. "Yeah, try Vulnera Sanentur. For what?" Remus told him, but Harry didn't even answer the question, he just turned around and ran back up the steps, the two men behind him. He opened the door gently, trying to not scare Draco. He sat next to him, grabbing his wand from where he abandoned it on the desk. "Please let me see it." Draco looked away. "Please?" He sighed and pulled the back of his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the side. He got a closer look at the cut, thumbing the edges but not enough to put Draco in any pain. "Was it him again?" Draco nodded, and Harry pulled him into a hug, making sure to not touch the wound.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Draco wrapped in Harry's arms, taking in the smell of pine trees, since there was a muggle scented candle on his dresser. They didn't notice Remus and Sirius watching them from the doorway, hidden in the shadows. When Harry let go of him, he brought the wand to the top of the cut, Draco wincing and sucking in his breath when it touched the skin. "Sorry, Dragon. I asked Remus for a spell, and he gave me this one." Harry told him, and Draco nodded. He pulled the wand down the cut gently, murmuring the spell, "Vulnera Sanentur." The gash shrank inwards, becoming thinner. He kept doing and repeating it until instead of a large gash, it was just an angry pink scar. "Thank you." Harry nodded and set his wand back down before gently kissing him. Draco smiled into the kiss, throwing one arm around Harry's neck and the other around his waist. Harry broke the kiss but didn't move his hands from where they were, one hand on his hip and the other on his good shoulder. "I'm so sorry, love. I should never have let you leave my arms on the train."

Draco shook his head and kissed Harry's nose. "It isn't your fault, Haz. I needed to tell them, I just wished I didn't interrupt time with your family." Harry pulled his face away from him, still staring at Draco. "You are part of my family, Draco. Don't forget that. Ever. Ok?" Draco nodded, and Harry kissed his cheek. "I love you, Harry." He rested his forehead against Harry's and smiled. "I love you too, Draco." They hugged again, and the two in the doorway smiled. They began to move away, but Draco's voice stopped them. "What about Remus and Sirius?" Draco asked, and Harry shrugged. "I'll talk to them in the morning. For now, just sleep. I'll stay with you." Draco pulled away from him to look at him, worry etched in every line of his face. "What if they don't want us to be together? What if they make you break up with me?" Harry sighed. "I don't care if I have to leave here, I'm not leaving you." Draco nodded and kissed him again. Harry let go and picked him up bridal style, walking around the side of the bed and sliding in, arms still wrapped around Draco. He pulled the covers over them, wrapping an arm around his waist from behind. "Nox." He whispered, and the lights around his room went out, leaving just the candle casting light across the walls.

Harry hummed a random tune gently to his boyfriend, who was wrapped tightly in his arms. His body was curved around Draco's under the soft grey duvet, rubbing circles over his abs with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Dragon. I hate your father so much." He mumbled softly, not expecting him to answer. "The feelings mutual, Haz. I can't wait till everything with the war is done and over with and he gets shipped off to Azkaban." Draco fell asleep moments after that, Harry still humming gently in his ear and making the circular motions. Harry laid awake, and called out quietly, "I know you guys are out there, come in here."

It took a moment, but he was met with the sheepish faces of his uncles moving from the doorway and coming to the end of the bed. Sirius sat on the desk and Remus just sat in the chair, like a normal person.

"So, do I have to leave in the morning?" He asked, pulling Draco tighter into his side. He shuffled in his sleep, but Harry pressed a soft kiss to his neck and he stopped moving, smiling in his sleep. Remus shook his head, but Sirius looked hurt. "Of course not Harry. Why would we make you move out?" Remus asked, but Harry just shook his head. "Hold on a second," Harry told him, moving his arm out from underneath Draco gently. He slid out of the bed quietly, trying not to disturb his boyfriend. He straightened his tee-shirt and crept out of the room, motioning for them to follow him. He brought them up a floor to the room he had hardly been in.

It was just a simple drawing room, housing two desks, a trunk that kept rattling (Harry was sure there was a bogart in there), and the black family tapestry Sirius had yet to find a way to take off the wall. He pointed at the names 'Bellatrix Lestrange' which had a thin gold line leading to 'Andromeda Tonks' and 'Narcissa Malfoy'. Her name was connected to 'Lucius Malfoy' and the name 'Draco Malfoy' in between them.

"That. That's why. It's why didn't tell you. Not because I'm embarrassed by him, quite the opposite really. I love him too much for that. I was just worried because of his family. You saw what they did, and he just told him he was gay. I had no idea how you would react when you found out I'm dating someone who's aunt tried to kill you." Harry stood there awkwardly, just breathing shallowly and staring at the spider-like webs between the names. Remus just looked at him. Sirius looked across the web, staring at the cigarette sized hole where he was supposed to be. Remus was about to speak, but he heard a crash coming from the floor below, sounding like it was Harry's room. Harry didn't spare a second thought, just dashing from the room and to his own.

[arthurswritingblog]

Chapter Uno. The new guy on the street/ Cookie Guy?

Before we get started, here are some things to note. -This FF was co-written with a very dear friend of mine over on discord, I was given their permission to post our work here. -Co-Writer; gayfroginabox.tumblr.com !!! -Nathan Explosion and Ander's (Last name hidden for plot reasons) ARE ADULTS IN THIS FIC. -Nathan is a young adult, currently dropping out of high school, which would make him 19. -Anders is around the same age as Nathan. -There are events of underage drinking, they are brief but are plot-driven, these are not unnecessary scenes. -This fic is 18+, there is no NSFW, but there are some heavy scenes. I will be blocking people if I found out you are younger than 18 because I don't want young peeps to read this <3. -This is a Nathan x OC FF. Don't like it? Don't read. -This FF is P.O.V. based, characters P.O.V.s will be color-coded. -Nathan is Green, written by me. -Anders is Red, written by my friend. - Ander's is my dear friend's OC, I will not share their character card because of PLOT REASONS. Y'ALL GONNA HAVE TO WAIT. -All Parties consent to this FF being posted, if at any point one party changed their mind, this fic will be deleted or archived from this page. -DO NOT REPOST THIS FIC, NO RE-BLOGGING WITHOUT PERMISSION. Chapter 1 begins... now! Anders was sitting at his house. He was so proud of himself for being able to move to us and get himself home. It was amazing by his standards at least, honestly, it was a shitty house but he was proud. He sipped on some violet tea as he looked out his window. a new family was moving in across the street, that's when he noticed their son. He looked around Anders’s age and it was helpful that he was so handsome. He kinda blushed a little, wow he looked really strong. He decided he needed to introduce himself so he began to bake. He made some simple chocolate chip cookies, waited until the parents left, and put the cookies on a plate. He checked himself before he went over. His long hair was in a bun and had been recently dyed a soft purple. He straightened his denim jacket that was thrown over his shirt. On the shirt was a metal band from back home. He bit his lip and let out a soft breath.

He left his house, closing the door behind him. He walked over the cookies on a plate in his hands, covered gracefully by a piece of cling wrap. He would normally put a bit of bread in it to keep them from going stale but he didn’t think the cookies would last. He got lost in thought then realized he was in front of the new neighbor’s door. He knocked firmly and fast. He was so nervous it felt like his head was floating. What if the other guy was homophobic..that wasn't uncommon anywhere really, he hoped one day it would be.

Nathan was unpacking the last boxes for his room, blasting the new metal band album he bought at the record store. He absolutely couldn’t stand whatever his mother was planning. He *gracefully* threw his minimalist furniture haphazardly around his room, left his black bed in the corner, and began neatly shoving his clothes in his dressers.

After about an hour, his parents were leaving. “Fucking finally” Nathan sighed. Time for himself and this next fucking house.

Nathan changed from his sweaty clothes into his usual street clothes. A black sleeveless tank top, black pants. He didn’t have the chance to put his boots on when he heard a fast knock at the door. Who would be at the door? A random fucking salesman?

Nathan unlocked the door and opened it widely. He was looking down at first, spotting the stranger’s feet before anything else. Slowly looking up from the shoes, he slowly spotted the plate of cookies and slowly went to the Strangers,*cute*…

What the hell? No Nathan, this guy is not CUTE you JUST SAW HIS FACE. SNAPOUTOFIT.

He gazed at the stranger's Arr(cute)rng face, and notice the slight blush.

“Yeah?” Nathan growled. He felt his heart flutter, wow he was even cuter up close. He felt so many thoughts run through his head "oh..is this a bad time? " He asked softly as he bit his lip. His Norwegian accent was fairly thick and Ander's hated that. He tried to train it out of himself.

He bit his lip hard "I..just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood so I made you some cookies." He offered a very kind smile "do, you um go to the local high school?" Anders was the age of a high school senior but wasn't going to school because he didn't have the time.

Nathan tilted his head at the stranger, he had yet to know his name.

“Oh no, It’s not a bad time” The accent was endearing, and Nathan thought it was pretty Metal.

“Oh, You made cookies? Oh uhh.” Nathan struggled coming up with words, he felt his tongue swell and thought he was foaming at the mouth. He decided to skip that and go straight into the class question.

“No, I’m dropping out”

He nodded at the question of cookies "I think cookies ams the best way to get used to a new place and make friends." He grinned as he offered the plate to the other man. He decided not to comment on him dropping out. He saw Nathan's shirt and grinned "oh no ways. I love that band! You got good taste in music. Oh, I'm Anders by the way!" And that's a wrap, see ya next week!

[leigh-kelly]

Completions and Connections: Quarantine Christmas

So 2020, huh? Ugh. Santana and I had started the year amazingly, with Tyler turning a year old and me kind of setting up a schedule that let me go on assignment more than I had in his first year—though, so much less than I had before I had a wife and a son to want to be home with. Things were good...and then they weren’t. But obviously everyone can relate, you know, it didn’t happen in a bubble or anything.

I was in Sweden when Santana called me utterly freaking out. Because I was always pretty isolated from the news when I was traveling and she hadn’t seemed especially worried about COVID until shit hit the fan, I was taken almost entirely by surprise. She told me that it looked like everything was going to shut down, she didn’t know what was going to happen with the borders and she wanted me to come home as soon as possible. Honestly, in hindsight I should have had her bring Tyler to Sweden where there was actually a competent federal government, but obviously that’s not what happened.

I called my boss immediately and within hours, I’d abandoned my shoot and was on a plane bound for New York. Nothing else really mattered to me except getting home to them and since everyone was in a collective state of what the fuck, no one even argued with me about it. Two days later, Discover pulled all of their foreign correspondents anyway, so I pretty much got out just in time. We figured it would be two weeks, a month maybe, and then things would get back to normal. Little did we know how wrong we were.

Back in New York, things were...weird. People packed up and left the city in droves, everything looked abandoned and I immediately wished that we had a place in the mountains that we could go to. We probably could have bought something, that was true, but Santana had her practice and we both knew she wouldn’t abandon that, she’d worked too hard for it.

Yeah, so speaking of that. Tyler’s daycare shut down with everything else, I was home indefinitely, but my wife, my beautiful, amazing wife, still had to go to work every day. That was the scariest thing for us, knowing that she could be exposed at any given moment, knowing that she could bring it home to Tyler and I. We knew she was as safe as could be, she stockpiled PPE on a regular basis because she dealt with disease anyway and was super precautious about protection, but we couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough. For two days, we discussed whether she should go stay with Unique and isolate from us, but Tyler was still nursing and we thought it would really mess him up if she was gone. We had no idea if we were making the right choice, but it was a choice we had to make.

Everything was a major adjustment. Tyler and I had to learn a new routine during the day where I pulled ideas from Pinterest to do with him and ordered about a zillion boxes from Amazon full of activities. I took him out on walks in the early morning before people were outside, letting him breathe the fresh air when it was safe and taking pictures of the empty city, figuring at some point Discover might want them for a series and quite honestly, missing being behind the lens of a camera. I learned to bake bread, I made elaborate dinners and I fought so much boredom, remembering every day that it was better to be bored than dead.

It was different for Santana though. Though she wasn’t working with diagnosed COVID patients, she never knew what was walking through her door. Each night, she came home with marks under her eyes from her N-95, a band indent around her head from her face shield, and her face just so tired from doing the best she could to provide her patients with care in the midst of everything else. So I held her tight, I told her how much I loved her, how proud of her I was, but that didn’t help on the nights she heard that a patient had died, that didn’t help when she heard from contact tracers that someone had been to her office who tested positive and she shut herself up in the guest bedroom away from Tyler and me and waited anxiously for her latest round of test results.

But onto the more positive, our boy absolutely thrived. Turns out I was kinda good at the whole stay at home mom thing and I was glad that I found fulfillment in that. Plus, I wasn’t halfway around the world when he took his first steps, didn’t miss him say “mama” for the first time and all of that good stuff. We FaceTimed with my parents and Santana’s all the time, made sure they got to see him grow. When things got a little better in the summer, Tina would join us on our walks with her son and the two boys would babble away to each other from their respective strollers. And most importantly, we learned to look for the good, we tried to ignore the worst in people and see the best because it was really the only way we could get through it.

Christmas was three days away and though we wouldn’t do our customary dinner with Santana’s parents, she and I were still really excited that our boy was in love with the lights on the tree, that he was big enough to sit on the counter with us while we made Christmas cookies, could sit through half of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before he got fussy. Maybe Christmas was really different then it had ever been before—and Christmas was obviously so important to Santana and I—but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t still be magical.

“Office is officially closed until December 27th.” Santana burst into the house that evening, her red scarf wrapped around her neck and the biggest grin on her face as soon as she pulled off her mask. “Let me shower and change and then I’m going to give you two the biggest kisses.”

Like she did every day when she came home from work, Santana immediately stripped off her clothes and put them in the washing machine and jumped right in the shower. I missed being able to kiss her as soon as she walked in the door, but we both knew it was much safer to wait twenty minutes until any surface germs were off of her. Tyler didn’t exactly get it, he still whined and waited outside the bathroom door, but he was always the first one she kissed, our sweet little boy.

“Come on, Ty, let’s make Mama an espresso so she can sit down and relax with us when she gets out.”

I took the baby into the kitchen with me and made Santana’s afternoon drink, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top, because it was almost Christmas after all and I wanted it to be special for her. When she came out of the shower, she took Tyler from my arms and kissed him all over his face, laughing right along with him and his sweet little giggles. Then she sandwiched him between us and kissed my lips, smiling as she did. I knew that her job was more stressful than ever and the five days off would do her some real good.

“What’s on the Christmas agenda tonight, Britt?” She asked, putting Tyler on her hip and taking her cup from me.

“My parents want to FaceTime, if that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously, we haven’t talked to them since last week.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my mom is.” I shrugged, thinking that she was probably a little pissed that we told her not to come for Christmas and Ty’s birthday, but it was what it was. “It probably won’t be long, who knows?”

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah I guess I’m just aggravated with her. She’s asked me like four hundred times if we changed our minds about her coming. This is like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“I mean, I get it, it sucks. Everyone wants to be with their families and I can’t wait until this is over so we can take Ty to Colorado, but we’re just not there yet.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Obviously, Britt, you tell me all your secrets. You couldn’t even hang onto my birthday gift for more than a day after you got it this year.”

“I love Christmas Eve with your parents, it would have been nice to have mine here, but I kind of selfishly am looking forward to this year being just the three of us. Last year poor Tyler was so tired when we got home from your parents’, Christmas Day will be better with him on his regular routine.”

“I agree, and I honestly am looking forward to just relaxing with you guys, no stress, no drama, no dealing with my grandmother who can’t even bring herself to look at our son.” She shook her head. “Plus, it’s our anniversary, I do love the idea of not having your parents in the apartment that night.”

“Oh really?” I smirked and she laughed, before Tyler pat her face and shouted ‘Mama!’

“I know, baby boy, Mommy and I are totally ignoring you. “Let’s go play for a little while before we have to start dinner.”

So I was obsessed with watching Santana on the floor with Tyler. It started when he was a baby and she’d lay beside him got tummy time. I could never resist taking out my camera and getting a few shots of them together, especially because he was the spitting image of her and they just looked absolutely beautiful together. Santana always teased me about how many pictures I had, but I couldn’t help myself ever. They were too much and I loved them with everything in me.

Santana got so involved with playing with Tyler that I assured her I’d make dinner and slipped off into the kitchen, leaving them on the floor playing with his ball tower. It was hard to believe that our kid was almost two, that it had been so long since she and I reunited on Christmas Eve in the grocery store. But it was perfect. It really was, even in the midst of 2020, I had nothing to complain about in my life. We were healthy, we were happy and though we’d really been isolated from everyone else, we knew how loved we were.

We had barely finished eating dinner when my phone rang and I sighed a little when I looked down and saw that it was my mother. I really didn’t want another fight with her and as much as I wanted her to see Tyler, even through the screen, it had been hard. She was a hippie at heart and she didn’t do well with feeling like the government was controlling her, so I had to explain only about a thousand times that it was for her safety and everyone else’s.

“Hi Grandma.” I held the phone in front of Tyler and he grinned and waved.

“Hi Mamaw!”

“It’s my little Ty! Oh how I want to kiss your face and squeeze you!”

“Here we go.” I mouthed to Santana who rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think Grandma should come for Christmas? I promise, I’ll bring lots of presents.”

“Mom!” I turned the phone away from him and toward me. “Not cool.”

“It’s just me and your father, Brittany, it’s not like we’re bringing the whole world to see you.”

“We said no. We’re not seeing Santana’s parents, we’re not seeing our friends. The case count is rising and it’s only going to get worse after Christmas. We refuse to put anyone at risk.”

“Whitney, listen.” Santana took the phone from me, sensing my frustration. “I promise the first thing that we’ll do when this is over is come to Colorado, okay?”

“But it’s been a year since I’ve seen my grandson, your parents have at least seen him outside.”

“I know, and if you lived closer, we would see you outside too, but that’s just not what’s going on.”

“It just doesn’t feel like the holiday season.”

“It’s one year, Mom.” I took the phone back. “That’s it. And I’ve told you this more times than I can count. You calling and harassing us and trying to bribe Tyler isn’t going to change that.”

“I think dinner’s ready, I have to go.”

She hung up the call before I could say anything else and Santana came behind me and squeezed my shoulders. I relaxed into her body and she kissed my neck, knowing that always got my mind off of anything else. But then, Tyler started crying and I kind of wanted to punch my mom since he enjoyed talking to her so much and I didn’t think it was fair that she was taking out her frustrations on him.

“C’mere, baby.” I lifted him out of his high chair and gave him a squeeze. “It’s bath time!”

It was kind of funny how after Tyler was born, I became so much less awkward around people. Whenever I was able to stay put in New York, I had taken him to his Music Together class, to the park, wherever I could, you know, back when those things were still open and having him almost made me have some kind of common ground with other human beings so I didn’t just blurt out whatever was on my mind as often. Not to say it didn’t still happen, I was still me, after all, but I think Santana and I both really changed once he came along, in the best way possible.

The next day, we FaceTimed with the Changs, Kurt and Dave who had been working from home and isolating outside of the city since March and Mercedes, who had been pulling a real Taylor Swift and writing album after album in quarantine. While Tyler napped, Santana and I finished wrapping the last of his presents and got them all situated to put under the tree for the next night. I was beyond excited for the non-traditional Christmas, just ready to watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa in our pajamas and I knew Santana was too.

The next morning, Tyler woke us up before six and I told Santana to stay in bed while I went across the hall to get him. He completely beamed up at me, though his eyes were still tired, and I lifted him into my arms to bring him into our bedroom. Once he was in the bed, he crawled around, pawing at Santana’s face and she finally sat up with a laugh, kissing him all over his face.

“Merry Christmas Eve, little dude.” She told him. “You know Santa’s coming tonight.”

“Santa! Santa!” He clapped, though neither of us were really sure he even knew what that meant.

“What do you want to do today, babe?” Santana asked me and I shrugged.

“I mean, we’re doing the Christmas movie marathon tomorrow and you know, we ate all the fudge your mom dropped off...”

“So you want to make fudge?”

“I mean, you’re the keeper of Maribel Lopez’s secret fudge recipe, it only seems right.”

“If you want fudge, you get fudge.” She smiled and I did a little happy dance in the bed. The fudge was honestly so good that sometimes, when I was gone for longer than I’d like and I was hitting that homesickness point, Santana would send it in a care package. Yeah, my wife was cute like that, she didn’t stop sending me care packages just because we had rings on our fingers. The best, seriously.

So we made the fudge. Then we went for a walk in the park, where there were thankfully not too many people to have to dodge and we looked up at the sky, thinking it really looked like snow was coming. A white Christmas would be nice and probably the most un-2020 thing to happen so I really kind of was looking forward to it. Once Tyler was asleep in his stroller, we went home and Santana carried him upstairs to his bed and we went to do one last double check on the gifts.

“You’re sure you’re cool with being Santa tonight?” She asked me.

“We couldn’t take him to Macy’s and he needs to have a picture with Santa, of course I’m cool with being Santa. We got the suit and the pillows and the beard, I’m so ready.”

“You’re really the best mom, you know that right?”

“Please...you’re like super mom or something.”

“Just let me give you a compliment, Britt.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that everything has sucked pretty bad in the world, but him having you around every day, and me not having to freak out about if he was safe while I went to work is definitely the best thing that ever could have happened.”

“It feels really good to be able to do it. I don’t know, looking at the map in his nursery showing me in New York for the past nine months has been really good, I feel like I miss a lot when I’m gone.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I do, I’m just grateful for the time. And to be honest, I don’t think my job is ever going to go back to looking like what it used to, so maybe that means a lot more time with you both.”

“We’re so lucky, you know? I thought about it a lot this year, like what if I would have been single when this happened and isolated from my parents and my friends. It’s hard enough some days, but going through it alone...”

“Yeah, I know. I totally do. Even in the shittiest year, the world is a whole lot better with you and Tyler in it.”

After another hour or so, Tyler woke up and was ready to play. We pulled over his learning tower in the kitchen and he stood at the counter with us as we cooked our Christmas Eve feast. Just because it was the three of us didn’t mean we weren’t going to do tamales and a pork shoulder like we did every year at Santana’s parents—although luckily, we’d prepared the tamales ahead of time—and even though it was a little early, Santana poured bourbon into our eggnog and we started celebrating.

After dinner, I went upstairs and changed into my Santa suit. Maybe people would think it said something about gender roles or what the fuck ever that I was the one to dress up as Santa, but it wasn’t like that. I just thought it would be really fun and figured we could get our Christmas picture of Tyler. While Santana had him in his bedroom, I slipped out of the door to our apartment and waited with my mask in the hallway for Santana to open up to my knocks. When the door swung open, she held Tyler in her arms and I gave my best ‘ho ho ho’ carrying two gifts for him.

“Mommy!” He shouted, clapping his hands and giggling. “Mommy!”

“That’s not Mommy, silly boy.” Santana laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s Santa Claus.”

“No, Mommy!”

“Alright.” I chuckled, taking off my beard and hat so as not to confuse him. “You’re right. C’mere, buddy.”

Santana just laughed and laughed as I took him into my arms and handed her the gifts. He was a smart one, that was for sure, and he patted my cheeks as I carried him over to the Lord Tubbington proof Christmas tree and sat down on the floor with him.

“You’re right Ty, Santa isn’t coming until after you’re asleep, I was just being silly. But look, we have some presents for you.”

We sat with him as he took his time opening his gifts, a new pair of Christmas pajamas and a copy of Olive the Other Reindeer to read at bedtime. He was really excited about the book and roughly turned the pages, trying to see all the pictures. Then, we took him up for his bath and got him settled into his new pajamas and into his bed. Santana read to him and I sat back and watched, just so in love with the two of them. I didn’t even bother to take pictures though, I just wanted to be in the moment and Santana occasionally looked over at me and smiled. Even with the shit year we’d had, it really was the perfect Christmas Eve and once Tyler’s eyes slipped closed, I leaned over and kissed Santana on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She smiled.

“The merriest yet.”