#not me immediately starting to look into delivery gigs

[zetobii]

I passed my driving test on the first go 😭 someone go tell teenage me it really WAS possible ✨

[wilbursprincess]

wilbur with a reader who loves ghibli or anime!

also can i be ☁️ anon? i was also the one who sent the reader with a fear of fire lol

Wilbur With a Ghibli Fan Partner!

Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None :)

Hi again ☁️ anon! I’ve got a bit of an embarrassing confession to make… I’ve never seen anything Ghibli or anime before, with the exception of a guy I liked at 14 who forced me to watch the first episode of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure with him :’) I had to ask my lovely online friend for help with this since she’s seen it, as well as consulting Pinterest, so I apologize in advance if I mess something up!

Headcannons below cut!

~Wilbur hadn’t seen any Ghibli before he met you, but when you suggested watching one together for a date he was HOOKED!

~You started by showing him Ponyo.

~To go with the movie, you made honey milk and ramen, which Wilbur absolutely loved.

~Now he makes himself honey milk to relax after a long day in the studio or after gigs.

~About a week after you two finished Ponyo, he begged you to show him another Ghibli film.

~You picked Kiki’s Delivery Service, serving it with a plate of the pancake breakfast and some rice porridge.

~As a surprise, Wilbur made you two hot chocolate in some new Ghibli mugs he bought for you as a gift!

~Obviously, he loved this one too.

~Didn’t even wait until the credits rolled until begging to watch another one the next day!

~Spirited Away was up next, picked after Wilbur looked up a list of all the Ghibli movies.

~You two watched it with some sushi and a painstakingly iced sponge cake you made when he was in the studio that morning.

~Wilbur was immediately obsessed, as you predicted.

~Informed you that once he got out of the studio the next night, you two were watching My Neighbor Totoro.

~Showed up at your house with a big smile and an enormous stuffed Totoro.

~Seriously, the thing was about half the size of him!

~Made plans that very night to have a marathon to watch the rest of the Ghibli movies he had yet to see.

~Ends up being a bigger Ghibli fan than you, and you can’t help but grin whenever you see him excited over it.

[epicspheal]

So I finally did the whole “gym leader inspection” last night to see where the fandom is getting their “Evil Geeta” vibes from. And while the jury is still out on her until the DLC the bad blood between Geeta and the leaders isn’t striking me immediately as proof that she’s evil. Let’s start with the whole “Most of the gym leaders are anxious about the inspection” thing. Speaking as someone who has had a full time job, performance reviews are always a little nerve-wracking no matter what type of boss you may have. There is always room for improvement, let alone there’s always a chance you’re going to be told you need to do more. Not really sure how other leagues are ran but I could guarantee you that gym leaders from Kanto to Galar would also feel the same level of anxiety about a performance review and it honestly shouldn’t be used as proof that Geeta is evil. Rather proof that performance reviews suck and anxiety inducing. Now let’s go into some of the individual reactions. Brassius quite frankly really didn’t seem to care. He was more concerned about his new inspiration for art than the inspection. If anything being a gym leader is more of a side-gig to his art career. Neither did Iono as she’s far more concerned about her streams and viewer numbers moreso than the inspection itself. In fact she seemed very impressed that Geeta trusted the player to do the inspection Kofu probably takes this the best because he’s a restaurant owner. He understands that at times people judging him may be harsh and to not take it personally. This is an important skill that you have to learn as an adult in the working world and it’s easier said than done especially if you’re sensitive. I’m quite sensitive myself and it’s taken me a lot to get even to half of where Kofu is in regards to criticism especially if it’s not given tactfully in my opinion. Him saying Geeta is harsh doesn’t necessarily imply he thinks she’s bad at all. And I think if anything he welcomes any harshness because it helps him improve. Again, that’s a skill that’s hard to develop and hard to conceptualize if you haven’t been put in a position where you’ve been dealt harsh criticism. It certainly sucks to be on the receiving end and yes tactful delivery is still key but you can’t always expect “room for improvement” talks to always be delivered gently. Then there’s Katy who is bored of being the first gym leader and being told to go soft on Geeta. Honestly Geeta telling her to be softer on her opponents isn’t a bad thing. Gym leaders are supposed to be tests, not nigh-insurmountable obstacles. While going too soft on people isn’t great, crushing new trainers off the bat isn’t helpful either as you can indeed squander potential talent doing that. Something Geeta recognizes. Katy here is in her feelings but it is understandable. No one likes losing, and with her being a bug type specialist there is probably the added sting of feeling like she’s conforming to the stereotype that Bug types are week. However, Geeta isn’t in the wrong for what she said. Rather it’s up to Katy to do something about it if she’s so discontent from being the first gym leader. She can up her challenge a bit, going soft doesn’t mean being a cakewalk. Or if this really bothers her, get better at being a trainer so she can become a leader that’s recommended to be faced later on despite being so close to Mesagoza. And to her credit, Katy does at least recognize that after the battle with the intent of battling at a higher level. Whether that means not being as soft on newer trainers or just trying to make sure she gets a higher rank we’re not sure, but she has the maturity to not really blame Then you have Tulip who says she’s not Geeta’s biggest fan because she dislikes how bewitching Geeta’s aura is compared to her own. Now some people may have latched on to the bewitching as proof that she’s evil but when you look at the definition of bewitching it means “enchanting or delightful” or in other words “so beautiful or attractive that you cannot think of anything else”. This actually kind of implies Tulip might be a bit jealous of Geeta and how she carries herself rather Geeta being malicious. She compares Geeta’s aura to her own and calls it similarly bewitching implying that both of them have an enchanting way about them. And often when two people of similar vibes meet they may end up clashing. I think the whole ESP gym test makes people perhaps read a bit more into the bewitching thing because Tulip may have psychic powers we don’t know and so maybe she knows something we don’t. And it very well may be shown in the DLC that Tulip’s words were foreshadowing. But the bewitching line to me at least at the moment, strikes me more as a “I’m a bit envious of the chairwoman” over “the chairwoman is evil” Then you have Ryme who is rather blatantly insulted that Geeta sends the player to do the inspection rather than herself. She even states that she had been looking forward to proving the strength of ghost-types to her and felt a bit robbed. Now again this really isn’t a “Geeta is evil” type thing. Sure it probably would’ve been nicer to have Geeta mention that she was sending someone else as a courtesy. But I think Ryme’s feelings of being insulted come from a place of insecurity. She’s only been the leader for a year and a half and she does enjoy the job. Again like I said earlier, performance reviews will make any employee nervous but especially newer ones who haven’t been on the job all that long. So I can definitely see why Ryme was upset as she probably felt like this was a snub and as someone who has been a new employee I can sympathize with her feelings. But it doesn’t make Geeta bad that this happen. The only bad thing Geeta did was just not tell everyone she was sending someone else. Next is Grusha who during the inspection talks about being worried that he’ll lose his job and the only other thing he has talent for. Again much like Ryme is this is definitely coming more from insecurity on the part of Grusha over Geeta being a bad boss. Like Ryme it also comes from an understandable place. He suffered a great loss in losing his ability to snowboard and knowing that his gym leader position is a job that can be lost as well is certainly anxiety inducing. Especially for someone like himself who tends to wrap their identity in their talents. I don’t even think he actually dislikes Geeta he’s just terrified of potentially of not doing well enough to stay in his position. Again that’s something extremely relatable but not necessarily a mark on Geeta herself. Finally there is Larry who has the most outright grievances towards Geeta. Him having outright grievances doesn’t mean she’s evil though. A lot of people have grievances with their bosses and it could be that their boss is bad, it could be they themselves are the bad ones, or maybe neither are bad and they just don’t mesh. And honestly even though they clearly have beef Geeta does tell him to stop doing overtime. She may not be the world’s best boss but her telling him to chill on the overtime does count for something when there are plenty of bosses who will happily let you work overtime, even unpaid overtime. And also yes, she does ask him to use a different type when battling as an Elite Four member but honestly that’s not a bad boss thing. One it makes sense that if you’re going to use someone as both a gym leader and elite four member (who are generally all type specialists) to switch things up to keep challengers on their toes. After all the Champion’s Test is an assessment. And as Larry himself states, he understands why she asked him to switch things up. He realizes that he misses a lot of growth by just staying in one lane with one type and he’ll become stronger as a trainer if he takes different approaches. Yeah he still doesn’t like her but he’s mature enough as an adult to realize when she’s making good points and that’s important although again a tough point to get to. Because it’s often really hard to hear good points from someone you’re not the biggest fan of. So honestly if anything Geeta and the gym leader’s relationship really resembles real life workplaces. Not everyone is buddy-buddy. People get anxiety when performance reviews or big meetings are called. People have insecurities that tend to get poked in certain situations. It doesn’t necessarily mean any one person is good or bad.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

hi friend, it's 🪼🩵

i currently have a three hour break before my next class so i'm here lol let me tell you what i did today !! 🩵 i was able to clean my room after procrastinating it for 6 months. i also got out of bed immediately and did not scroll on my phone for 3 hours. i'm a new person !!

alsoo, i need advice on smth 😓 i'm thinking of getting a job (part-time, i can't commit that much yet) like maybe a server? or like a cashier?? i just need extra cash to support my addiction of collecting things 🥹😓🤧

oh i need to mention i really like collecting makeup and i recently got into hirono figurines!! they're just so cute ugh i might send an imgur link so you can see them idk

you don't need to give advice, and if you do, it doesn't need to be lifechanging. i've js been thinking about it for like... 8 months so i feel like i should do something about it

oh, you're writing another chapter right? good luck with that my friend. i can't wait for your magnus opus. this will be equivalent to the invention of the light bulb i swear

i have quite the social energy today... i will tone it down a little. sorry if i drift between topics a lotttt it's a habit 😓 anyway take your time replying

as always thank u my friend and ily 🪼🩵

yessss cleaning your room (while sometimes the most daunting task ever) feels so refreshing! i used to leave my room so messy and i still can let it get pretty disorganized, but once i started making my bed every day i found i felt so much better. and when i don’t doomscroll, i also have a much better day!!! so good for you 😍

i think it’s a great idea to get a part time job. it can also be awesome for helping social skills, especially if you have coworkers (that’s the one thing i miss with my job. it’s just me by myself a lot of the time except when i meet with clients). i’m a petsitter and finally getting that job really changed my life. i had a lot of mental health issues and my job gave me something to focus on and a sense of purpose. it also allowed me to have some more independence, save money, and, of course, spend it on all the things i fangirl over. so i highly suggest!

and if you don’t have a block of set free time for a job, i can highly vouch for “gig work”. idk where you’re located but service jobs like rover/petsitting, doordash, instacart delivery, etc is a viable option but it comes with its own unique set of challenges as well. 🩷 whatever you choose, i think you’re making an awesome decision (even tho working does suck and we are also slaves to capitalism and so on and so forth. still gotta make money unfortunately)

also yes, send me your collections! i actually love looking at collections even if its not of my immediate interest.

taerae chapter should be finished soon 🤩 i also wrote hao’s ending and i love it sm. i’ve had too much energy the past two days, i need to calm down lol

🩵ily 🪼💘

[bonniebird]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

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Trailer layout inspo

You’d been waiting next to Eddie’s van as they loaded up after a gig when your water broke. You had quietly pointed it out to Eddie who immediately started to panic. Eventually Eddie was in the back with you as your hand squeezed his and he yelled at whoever had ended up driving, you thought maybe Gareth but you hadn’t paid much attention. 

He had burst into the hospital, awkwardly carrying you screaming “My best friend is probably dying!” Which scared the daylights out of the nurse who came hustling out to save you. Despite the nurse’s best attempt to get Eddie to leave or calm down he clung to your hand the whole time, yelling at people. You could remember at one time in the delivery room that he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, kissing your sweaty forehead and humming old rock songs. 

You didn’t remember much else but when you woke up in the hospital later on you found Eddie sitting next to your hospital bed with a baby clutched in his arms. He grinned at you when you woke a little more and he gently passed the baby over.

“I can’t believe you made that tiny little thing!” Eddie said as he leaned over. A nurse came in to check on you and scolded him for being all over the bed. He quickly sat back down but scooted the chair over. “I’ve never seen something so little before! Look at her little toes!”

“Thing?” You had croaked out at him, feeling beyond exhausted. 

“Well you haven’t named her yet!” Eddie said defensively and shifted around in his chair. “I called him by the way.”

“He didn’t come?” You asked, hurt clear in your voice as you looked down at the baby. Eddie wanted to ask you if you had thought he’d really come but he held in the words.

“I’m sorry. He said that you should just stop calling.” Eddie said gently. You didn’t say anything for quite a while. People visited but Eddie stayed, pretending to be asleep when a nurse tried to get him to leave when visiting hours were over. 

The day you left the hospital Eddie had to break it to you that your daughter’s dad had left you for someone else and given up your apartment. Eddie and the Hellfire club had saved your things and the things you’d gotten for the baby. Even Eddie’s uncle had gone to help them. He insisted that you stay until you found somewhere and when you arrived at the Munson trailer it was cleaner than you had ever seen it in your life. 

Eddie was as helpful as he could be. Though at first he was a little bumbly. Twice you’d caught him on the phone with Steve and Robin and once with Nancy trying to get instructions for nappies or bottles. For a while the baby would only be soothed by Eddie gently humming Barracuda by Heart, slightly off key and continuously. Eddie had bought an old cassette of the song but the baby was unimpressed. He even tried recording a cover of the song with Corroded Coffin hoping it would save him hours of bouncing and humming but your daughter wasn’t a fan of that either.

She would cling onto his hair while he held her carefully in his arms and pottered around the trailer. Eddie had insisted that you take his bed and he’d take the couch although in truth he most often ended up crawling into his bed with you, sleeping with you on his chest and a hand on your daughter as if he was worried something bad would happen if he didn’t have a hand on her. Wayne had found an old bassinet that Eddie set up in his room for you.

“Eddie?” You said nervously as you walked into the living room. Eddie was laying on his back across the sofa. He had a D&D book in his hands, carefully holding it open with your daughter on his chest. He’d been explaining stats of different creatures to her while she kicked and grabbed up at the book simply because it was in front of her.

“Yeah?” Eddie said without looking away from the book.

“I know you have your Hellfire thing later. But I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” You asked slowly. Eddie closed the book and looked at you, his hand gently coming down to make sure your daughter stayed put and safe.

“Do you need me to miss it?” He asked reluctantly. You frowned and shifted around on your feet.

“Well. Do you think maybe you could take her with you? She’d sleep in her pushchair! She wouldn’t be any bother.” You were trying to sell him on babysitting now. Which was unnecessary because at least once he’d arranged for you to go off with Robin and Nancy and you came back to find him with her asleep on his lap while he and Steve built baby toys.

“I guess I could ask everyone to keep it down. Is everything ok?” He asked. You nodded.

“I just have a meeting around when you’d have to leave. It’s about renting a trailer. Your uncle said he’d sign some paperwork and Max’s mom recommended me. You know! I might even get one of the new ones round the corner from here. Wayne said we should push the baby thing.” You started to grin at that thought and Eddie smiled.

“I can’t promise that she won't be grumpy tomorrow but I can take her.” Eddie promised. You looked a little relieved. He stood, pulling faces and making noises at your daughter who squealed with delight at the attention. “You’re going to let me visit though right? I’ll have no one to spend my spare time with.” 

“Of course Eddie.” You said with a laugh. You left Eddie later on and he headed off with your daughter safely in her carseat. You were rather pleased that whenever he had her in the car he would drive a little more carefully. The meeting went well and with a little pressing from Wayne and the flashing of baby photos you managed to get one of the newest two bed trailers for a much lower rental rate than you had thought you’d be able to. Wayne dropped you off at the Hellfire club’s meeting place on his way to visit a friend and you followed the loud sounds down the hall. 

Opening the door you found Eddie sitting in his throne-like seat with your daughter in his lap. She was waving her hands and gurgling while everyone else reacted as if they understood her. Gareth groaned like he’d lost after rolling a dice and your daughter slammed her hands on the table. When everyone got riled up and started to plead with her she squealed and clapped her hands.

Eddie spotted you in the doorway and smiled. Gesturing for them to finish you enjoyed watching your daughter who could barely roll over or sit up by herself, ruin an entire party. When they were done everyone said goodbye making her squeal each time she was acknowledged as they left. Eddie scooped her up and laid her down into the pushchair. She fussed a little but was so tired and over excited that Eddie had her sleep humming the chorus of her song once while you tidied up a little. 

“So. Good news or bad news?” Eddie asked quietly as he rocked the pushchair a little.

“Great news.” You said quickly and filled Eddie in. The grin on his face grew wider and wider as the good news kept going. 

“You’re going to forget about me now you’re in one of those fancy new places living the high life.” Eddie said as he grabbed you by the shoulders and grinned at you.

“Never Eddie!” You insisted. He chuckled and quickly kissed you on the forehead before hurrying away and giving you a funny look as he finished tidying up. “I got the keys so I could show you where it is?” You offered. Eddie agreed and once he was done the three of you headed back to the trailer park in Eddie’s van. You directed him round to the trailer with your house number. He picked your daughter up from her carseat and you led the way inside up the steps. The front door opened immediately into a very large living room just under double the size of the Munson trailer. Eddie let out a quiet, impressed whistle. The kitchen was on the left, brand new and tiled with a soft pinkish orange colour scheme. Down the hall was a reasonable sized bedroom, a large bathroom and a surprisingly big master bedroom. 

“Oh and look!” You said as you led the way through to the master bedroom one of the large windows looked out onto the curved road of the trailer park and by coincidence you could see the Munson trailer or the bathroom at least. 

“Hey you can wave to me while I take a shit that's nice.” Eddie joked. You frowned at him and swatted his arm.

“Eddie! Don’t be so gross.” You complained as he laughed.

“I’m sorry. Ok. I’m sorry this place is very nice.” Eddie relented and chuckled when you pulled a face at him.

“It’s a good size for three people.” You commented as you headed out of the bedroom and out to look in the cupboards and at the little details you’d missed. Eddie smiled down at the baby in his arms and smiled to himself. 

“For three? Who’re you planning on moving in here with you.” Eddie asked playfully as he hurried after you. You laughed and looked at him as if he was being silly.

“You? Unless you didn’t want to?” You asked as if you were suddenly uncertain. 

“Of course! I can’t get around without my sidekick.” Eddie said as he glanced down at your daughter still sleeping in his arms. Then he looked up at you and smiled. “I’d be lost without you too.” 

Eddie tag list:

@linkpk88 @babypink224221 @prettyplant0 @hardladyheart @bluejaysaysstuff @wittiestrain184 @im-ilvn @slxthxrxn-sxmp @jamie-c-bower-simp

[ichigopanhpff]

Someday... Chapter 5: Room of Memories

[Last Chapter] -- [Masterlist]-- [Next Chapter]

Happy belated birthday to Mitsuya!

Sorry for the radio silence! I feel like I've just been posting stories up and gtfo of Tumblr. I recently started a new job and spent this whole time onboarding. This was a job I'd been wanting for a very long time so I'm gonna be working hard at it!

I'll still be posting stories up here, don't you worry. After "Someday..." finishes (which will be next week), I'll figure out the frequency in putting up "Sonata." The first chapter's surprisingly gotten a lot of reads and likes.

🎵BGM: GLAY "Happiness" | Lyric Translations

Warnings: Light alcohol consumption.

She gently set her gear bag on the couch in her office and plopped down beside it with an exhausted, heavy sigh, waving the t-shirt she wore to cool down from being outside. Ever since Mitsuya’s debut, requests for her services have steadily increased. She’d been running on fumes and was a job away from fully burning out. Feeling her eyelids get heavy, she shut them for a brief moment of reprieve and heard her door swing open with the vibration of the glass on steel frame.

“No,” she moaned, not caring who it was who came in. “No more gigs. I’m taking a month off to become a shut-in.”

“I know. You’ve been booked up to your eyeballs,” Ryota’s voice soothed with care and moved her bag to the floor so he could sit next to her. “I brought healing items.”

Lazily opening one eye, she saw a paper delivery box decorated with Beard Papa’s logo sitting on the low table. (Y/N) flashed a tired, grateful smile at her assistant.

“Have I told you you complete me?”

Dragging herself to sit upright with maximum effort, she let out another sigh when her assistant handed her a cream puff. She sunk her teeth into the sweet treat like a kid enjoying it for the first time, getting powdered sugar on the corners of her mouth.

“Oh sweet life giver of joy, carbohydrates and complex sugars,” she mumbled with a full mouth of pastry. “I will never forsake you.”

“How was the last job?” he asked before biting into his puff.

“The usual,” she took another bite of the treat. “The models were super cool and nice, but the clothes weren’t that interesting. They’re just copycats of what Mitsuya did, with a Harajuku-ish flare.”

Ryota let out a wondering hum and let his gaze wander to the magical looking dress hanging at the far end of the room.

“What are you gonna do with it?” he gestured to the garment.

“Return it, I guess?” she shrugged and finished her cream puff. “But after what happened… I dunno anymore.” Wiping her hands and mouth clean of powdered sugar, she reached for her phone to check her schedule for tomorrow. Her breath immediately hitched in her throat as her eyes widened with nervousness.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ryota as he finished his treat.

She slumped back onto the couch with a thud and leaned on her left like some kind of mob boss. She’d been drowning with so much work lately, she didn’t realize those two things were coming up so soon. Slathering her hands on her face, she dragged her fingers down agonizingly slow with a guttural groan and tilted her head up to the ceiling of her office. Rolling her line of sight back down to the dress currently hanging at the far end of the room, she sighed heavily again.

“His birthday’s in two days…”

“Well, then. All the more reason for you to see him,” her assistant pointed out with a small smile and a worried look. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s not good for your mental health.”

Continuing to glare at the hung dress, (Y/N) finally stood from her seat with a slap of her palms on her thighs and made her way over to it; she decided she’s wallowed in her crapulence enough.

“Fuck it,” she muttered and clicked her tongue. Carefully placing it back into the garment bag, she folded it in half and stuffed it back into the box it came in along with the shoes. “Tell anyone looking for me I’ll be out. Call it a mental health day or something.”

“You got it.”

Carrying the black box with both hands, she opened the door to her office with the push of her back; Ryota called for her one last time.

“If you really still love Mitsuya-san, tell him directly,” he advised with kindness. “Don’t hold these unspoken words close to your chest anymore.”

Flashing him a small smile, she made her way out. After a 20 minute taxi ride, (Y/N) arrived at the front entrance of the studio. Taking a breath to steady her heart, she approached the narrow entrance and pressed the button on the intercom for his office while juggling the box with one arm. A loud buzz rung out at the door seconds later, allowing her entry. Looking around for an elevator, she suddenly remembered the building was a walk up.

“Right…”

She huffed and readjusted her hold on the box tightly before ascending five flights of stairs. How the hell did she used to do this so easily?! Heavily stomping the last few steps, she finally arrived at the door to his studio huffing and dripping with sweat. Using her right foot to knock by kicking it, she could hear Mitsuya’s soft footsteps approaching to open the door.

“De… Delivery…” she tiredly gasped out, feeling the lactic acid build in her biceps and quads from fatigue.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with a tone of confusion. After what happened at the party with Draken, he thought he’d never see or hear from her again.

“Can you please take this box?!” she said in one breath as her temper began to flare. “It’s stupidly heavy!”

Exclaiming with surprise, he relieved her of the package and set it to a spare table near the door. She let out a long sigh of relief and stretched out her arms from holding it in the same position for so long, hearing her shoulder joints pop and crack. Mitsuya came back not too long after and got a better look at her wearing a flowy wide neck white t-shirt with loose fitting ripped jeans and sneakers, a big contrast from what she wore during the office meeting.

“D-Do you wanna come in for a bit? It’s pretty hot out.”

He held the door open for her to enter, to which she hesitantly accepted; everything still looked close to the same. The walls were a faded off white, but it gave the workspace character. Busts lined up on one corner in the makeshift changing room with the soft sunlight filtering in from the wide windows, illuminating a nearly finished wedding gown dressed on one of the busts. Rolls of fabrics and other items filled the cubby shelves that lined along the walls; pieces from his debut line hung on hangers on the clothing rack they built together.

A laptop sat at his desk beside various fabric swatches, pencils and scattered sketchbooks; a sewing machine can be found mounted to the far left. Above the couch hung a framed promotional poster of his debut line with a group shot of the models she did. (Y/N) made herself comfortable on the worn out leather couch beside a smaller clothing rack, feeling the cool upholstery on her backside from the air conditioner.

“Here.” She looked up to see the lilac hair streaked man hand her a small plastic bottle of chilled green tea from the mini fridge. Quietly thanking him, she took it and took a big gulp from it after twisting the cap off.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“The dress from the other night…” she quietly responded and rolled her lips in. “Figured I should return it.”

“Oh…” he said with a slight tone of disappointment, making her arch up an eyebrow of confusion.

“You said it’s a prototype for your couture line, no?”

“I’m still drafting up concepts for it, but that dress…” His lavender gaze wandered back to her. “It’s one of a kind… made for you.”

She raised her eyebrows and fiddled with the bottle cap with an incredulous look.

“Well, now I feel like an idiot.”

“Sorry ‘bout that…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “But I wasn't completely lying: I was testing out how the fabric would hold up. If I told them the truth, they’d never stop asking me questions.”

“Fair…” she agreed.

“If you don’t mind…” Mitsuya paused for a beat. “Can you put it on for me? I actually wanna make some adjustments.”

“Right now?”

“U-Unless you’re busy today,” he quickly responded, not wanting to be pushy considering what happened the last time they were alone.

“I’m supposed to be, but I made an executive decision to take the rest of the day off.” (Y/N) drew out a long breath. “I’ve been booked with non-stop fashion shoots thanks to you.”

“Business is good, I guess,” he let out an airy chuckle and watched his former lover drag herself off of the couch to grab the dress from the box. Walking to the far end of the studio, she pulled the curtain around for privacy to change. Hearing the shuffling of clothes from the other side, Mitsuya prepared the standing platform in the middle of his workspace and grabbed his tools. Draping the measuring tape around his neck, he refilled the pin cushion on his wrist with extra needles and heard the curtain pull back. His gaze widened with surprise, fully focused and drank in her glamour basking in the golden hour lighting of the sun.

He only managed to cast glances her way the night of the party and all he remembered was the dressed fit close to how he imagined it on her. The fabric color caught the light perfectly and the train he added to the dress ended up being a good choice on his end in order to make it a little flashy and flowy.

Her bare feet quietly pattered across the studio bashfully toward him, gathering the fabric to the sides of her hips so it wouldn’t drag on the floor sans heels. Carefully stepping up on the elevated platform, she let the dress hang loose in one swift motion. All he could do was dumbly stare in awe with his mouth ajar.

“Um, Mitsuya?” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Helllooo?”

He finally blinked a few times and cleared his throat, apologizing for dazing out. The lilac streak haired man ruffled his locks and looked away to gather his emotions.

“You just… You look very beautiful,” he shyly murmured to himself with a small blush and walked behind her to pin parts of loose fitting fabric around her hip area. “Arms up… Hm… got a little leaner here.”

“Been keeping up with the work out,” she beamed with pride.

“I should get back into it,” Mitsuya sighed lethargically, catching a glimpse at his now scrawny biceps with the light showing of stretch marks on his skin where his more defined muscles used to be from his youth. When they were still together, they did workout routines as a way to do more things with each other on their days off so they weren't slothing away into the grind of adulthood.

He continued to analyze the dress in silence, fully concentrating on the areas that need to be taken in. She noticed his physique was a lot thinner since she saw him last; the bones on his wrist and hands were protruding more.

Was he eating properly? Getting enough sleep? She didn’t like seeing this emaciated version of him.

“So…” she awkwardly drew out with her eyes darting around the office interior. “What are you doing for your birthday?”

“Hm?” He looked up with a blank look on his face and blinked a few times before it hit him. “Ah… It’s that time already?”

“You forgot your own birthday?” she asked in disbelief.

“You’ve done that too.”

“But that’s expected…”

He let out a quick snort before looking at his handiwork. “Okay…” he nodded. “I don’t need to take in much so it’ll be done quick.”

“How long did it take you to make this?”

“When did I go by your office to look over the proofs?”

“Like, close to three, four weeks ago?”

“’Bout that much time then.”

“… Weren’t you in the middle of setting up the show?” she asked with furrowed brows in astonishment. “And how do you even have my measurements?”

Mitsuya shot her a knowing look. “I’d like to think I know every part of you. Very well, might I add,” he boasted with a confident and mischievous glint in his light purple eyes.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she immediately snapped it back shut and rolled her lips in with a light dust of pink on her cheeks and huffed a breath through her nose with a small pout. All he could do was smirk and offered his hand for her to grab as she stepped down from the platform. She quietly thanked him before going back to change into her own clothes and reemerged moments later to hand him the dress, making sure none of the holding pins fell out.

“You never answered my question,” she said again with slight hesitation. “About your birthday.”

“How ‘bout dinner?” he suggested.

“Any place you wanna go?”

“Kinda want a home cooked meal. I've been too tired to do it myself lately.”

“Oh… Oh.” (Y/N) looked up at him with widened eyes before darting it back down to a random spot in the room, fidgeting with the tips of her fingers with unease and nibbled on the edge of her bottom lip. “Uh… I-I dunno ‘bout that…”

“We could do it at your place instead if it makes you more comforta—”

“Your place is fine,” she quickly cut in, suddenly regretting her words and mentally screamed at herself. She didn’t have much of a choice since she didn’t want him knowing where she lived. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” he said with a small smile gracing his lips.

So much for a last good-bye, she bitterly thought to herself.

Two days later, (Y/N) found herself standing in front of the apartment complex she once shared with Mitsuya with apprehension. The humidity and heat from the day clung onto her clammy skin. To prevent any possible paparazzi following or anyone recognizing her, she hid her face under a baseball cap and donned sunglasses.

Yes, they were former lovers, but they were also pseudo celebrities at the moment.

She had to be careful for both their sakes. Trolls on the internet were no joke and would doxx them the moment any sort of information carelessly slipped out. They were lucky to have friends they could trust to not do any of that stuff. Taking a breath to calm herself, she approached the entrance and pressed the button for his unit; the door let out the familiar beep she remembered.

“It’s just dinner. With your ex. Let’s just cook and go. It’ll be fine.”

Pushing the call button for the elevator, the twin doors slid open with an ear pleasing ding. Reaching the 8th floor, she made the turn to the left toward the apartment. And there she was, standing face to face with the entrance where she once called home.

Did it change much?

As these thoughts ran through her head, her hand unconsciously reached up and rang the doorbell. The clack of the door lock roused her back with a slight jump of her shoulders and she was met face to face with Mitsuya wearing an over sized black t-shirt and knee-length shorts. The two exchanged greetings and he let her in. Letting the cool air greet her at the foyer, she let out a content sigh as he took the bags of grocery from her hands. (Y/N) removed her sunglasses and hat, hanging the cap on the rack and put her shades on top of the hallway shelving unit.

“It’s so freaking hot out,” she groaned and took off her shoes before making her way into the bathroom to wash her hands and face.

“Forecast said it’s only gonna get worse later in the week,” he added and set the bags on the counter.

She huffed a breath of relief and walked into the kitchen. She looked around the apartment with a reminiscent gaze and immediately snapped out of it to unpack the ingredients.

“Luna and Mana said they might stop by later,” Mitsuya let her know. “Is that okay?”

“I should have enough here to make a portion for them.”

“What’s for dinner tonight any way?”

“Cold tanuki udon and croquettes,” she listed and got to washing a cucumber and some other vegetables. “I was gonna make nikujaga, but the meat didn’t look fresh.”

“That’s fine. Do you need any help?”

“Birthday boys only need to eat and drink today,” she spared him a glance. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

“A woman after my heart,” he carelessly let slip and grimaced by squeezing his eyes close and his lips pressed into a thin line at his poor choice of words. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you sayin’ stuff like that to your ex,” she cut in with an icy tone while dicing up the green cylindrical plant on the cutting board.

“I… don’t have a girlfriend,” he divulged, making her look up and stopped cutting for a beat.

“Oh.”

(Y/N) placed the diced cucumber into a bowl and put it into the fridge to chill before tending to the rest of the ingredients.

“What about you? Does your boyfriend know you’re—”

She snorted out loud as her response, followed with a dry laugh while grating the daikon for garnish. After finishing the prep work, she heated up a pan over the stove with water to make soft boiled eggs and took it back out fifteen minutes later. Unwrapping the premade croquette set, she heated up a frying pan to cook the breaded goods through. After another twenty minutes, dinner was served. Mitsuya grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and popped the tabs before walking back to the small dining table.

He looked down at the simple plating of udon with a pair of halved cherry tomatoes, diced cucumber slices, two halves of a soft boiled egg, wakame and agedama with the grated daikon and scallion sitting on top of the chilled udon noodles with hints of broth underneath. (Y/N) then set down the plated croquettes in between the two.

“Everything looks great,” he complimented and handed her a beer.

“Happy birthday.”

They clinked the necks of their bottles together and sipped the fizzy beverage before sitting down to eat. Just as they grabbed their chopsticks, the artificial lights in the entire apartment went out and bathed in what’s left of the sunset outside, making them both look up with surprise.

“A blackout?” she blurted out.

“Think I have a flashlight somewhere.”

Mitsuya got up from his seat and rummaged in one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen. (Y/N) opened up a window and the patio door to let some air into the apartment. Luckily, they were up high enough for the breeze to feel moderately cool, despite the humidity. He emerged a short beat later with some portable lights in hand. Flipping the switch underneath, the item illuminated the growing dark space and placed two of them on the dining table.

“Looks like it’s hit half of the Tokyo metropolitan area,” she scanned her phone for news updates. “No news on when things’ll come back.”

Mitsuya’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call and picked up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked with concern. “Ah, I see… No, no. It’s fine. Just be safe, okay? Text me when you get back.”

“Was that Luna-chan?”

“Yeah…” he looked at his screen and closed it. “She and Mana are stuck on a train and said they won’t be able to make it over tonight.”

“Are they okay?” she asked with concern.

“She said the train staff at the nearest station are organizing a way to help the passengers get off the safely from the tracks.”

“That’s a relief…”

Noticing how worried (Y/N) was about his sisters, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. She knew how much his siblings mean to him and the fact she reacted like this showed him she still cared.

She really did still love him.

The two sat back down and slowly dug into the food. Mitsuya’s lips graced a small elated smile while he chewed his food, looking fondly at his meal as if tasting for something.

“How is it?” she asked before taking a bite of croquette.

“Your cooking’s as I remember it,” he answered tenderly and licked his lips of any remaining sauce. “It’s warm and delicious.”

“But it’s a cold dish.”

“Still tastes warm to me,” he looked up with a small curve gracing his lips.

A light blush graced her cheeks as she took another bite, wishing for the sun to set faster so the darkness can hide her face. Finishing their meal, they leaned back on their chairs completely content.

“I can’t eat another bite…” Mitsuya huffed out and covered his mouth to hide his burp from the beer. “Thank you, (Y/N). This was a really good birthday dinner.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re too skinny.” She took a swig of her beer before standing up to collect the dirty dishes. He immediately reached across and grabbed her wrist.

“Let me.”

“Didn’t I say you just need to sit there and look pretty, birthday boy?” she repeated herself. “Plus, you’ve been working your ass off. Take a break.”

“You first.”

“I’m taking all of next month off to relax,” she divulged and proceeded to stack the dishes after he let go of her arm.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Even if I can’t, I’m still gonna,” she said. “If anything, time away’s gonna make the demand for me skyrocket. People want things more when they’re rare.”

“What if they fire you?”

“Then I’ll start my own studio,” she briskly replied. “That’s always part of my plan. Networking’s gonna be a pain though…”

While she busied herself with putting the dishes into the sink, Mitsuya watched her back profile like it was back then. He knew he couldn’t beat around the bush any longer and they’ll have to talk once and for all; he just couldn’t get the timing down. While his mind was drowning in his worries, he was suddenly met with a small strawberry shortcake with a lit candle on top right in front of him along with a wrapped item.

“Surely, you didn’t think there was no cake and present,” she said softly with a faint smile on her lips.

He looked up at (Y/N) with a mix of surprise and gratefulness, not knowing how to react. Reaching for the present first, he tore through the paper to reveal a biographical book on Coco Chanel.

“You remembered.”

“She is your muse, after all…” She gestured to the candle. “Make a wish.”

Mitsuya blew it out, watching the stream of smoke swirl up in the dimly lit room. His heart pounded in his chest as he suddenly stood with a clatter and crashed his lips onto hers, his arms finding refuge around her waist. She tried pushing him off, only to feel him pull in further and pushed her onto the nearest wall. He finally released with a gasp of air from his lips, trapping her between his arms.

“I’m not letting you go,” he declared with a hushed voice between pants as his hands found their way up to cup her face. She could feel his hot breath fanning on her lips and skin. “Not again.”

“Mitsu—”

“It’s Takashi,” he corrected with a small, strangled whimper and rested his forehead on top of hers; his hands reached up and cupped the sides of her neck for her to face him. “Call me by my name. Like you used to.” His tone was laced with desperation and need. “Please… Don’t leave me again. I’ve been so empty without you.”

“You left me first,” she quivered out as a tear slipped down her cheek, feeling her resolve slowly crumble. Twist the knife. Push him away. Make it hurt, she thought to herself. “You’re the one who doesn’t love me any—”

“I never stopped loving you! Not for one second,” he cut in with a crack in his voice and roughly caressed her cheeks with his calloused thumb pads, wiping the droplet away. “You warned me about Eri-san and I ignored it! I brushed you aside when I promised I’d protect your happiness," he squeezed out between sniffles through gritted teeth and shaky breaths. "I took you for granted.”

(Y/N) inhaled quickly and shallowly, looking deeply into his lavender orbs, searching for a reason to reject him.

“I saw your exhibition… I wanted to respond to your feelings…” he added.

Her eyes widened and flashed back to his debut show. “The extra pieces…” she whispered out with a shaky voice.

“The ones we made together.”

“You didn’t forget me,” she finally grasped with more fat tears rolled down the curves of her face and hiccuped. Her quivering hands slowly found their way up and touched his face tenderly.

“How could I?!” Streams of tears freely fell down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth. “You’re the love of my life. No one could ever replace you!”

They looked at each other through blurry eyes, tightly embracing one another as their knees collapsed onto the floor, openly sobbing into each other. For the first time in three years, their hearts finally connected. How many times did (Y/N) dream of this moment, only to wake up alone in a cold, foreign room from her travels?

Even though she made such an effort to try moving forward and here she was, back in the arms of the person who caused it.

“Your heart endured so much…” Mitsuya wept and stroked the back of her head. “Because of me, you carried all that weight... All that loneliness.”

He released from his hug and carried her bridal style into the bedroom. Setting her down gently on the plush mattress, her hands drew his face to her and was reminded of the taste of his lips on hers. That enveloping warmth, the quiet and gentle love they had once upon a time.

There was so much they needed to mend and talk about. And now, they had nothing but time in the darkness.

Taglist: @mor-pheus @netzukochannn @moodyhuesworld2 @someone4414

[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.

[theglowyscorpio]

all set | eren x reader

a/n: this is a story in the making, currently available at AO3 and Wattpad. If you like it, please don't hesitate to give me some kudos, leave a comment or maybe follow me on my social media! <3 Any feedback is highly appreciated since I'm just getting started!

pairing: eren yeager x female reader

tags: mature content, alternate universe (modern setting), college/university, recreational drug use, implied sexual content, M/F, F/F, the author is not religious lmao

word count: 4.3k

current chapters: 2/?

playlist: this one was made with a particular playlist in mind. they are really great songs that help to convey this chapter, so I hope you have a time to check them out! :)

a. slomosa - kevin b. upsahl - drugs c. rosenfeld - like u d. kaiba - overdose e. lil kapow - tinman f. bodega - how did this happen!?

***

all set

I lost count of how many parties I went to this week. There was one at Shina, another at... Sasha's. Wait, was it? Or Ymir's? Honestly, both their houses look fairly similar and we always see the same faces over and over again, regardless of where we are getting wasted. Definitely two at my house. The timeline is blurry at this point. If my liver could talk, it would spit out "Screw you, Eren." and I wouldn't be able to disagree.

Classes will start next week so everyone is acting like we're going to stop doing all this for the rest of the semester. That never happens.

I barely enter Reiner's house and the music is already piercing my head. My ears will soon tell me to go screw myself too. The bass was loud. But it was good.

— Hey, finally — Reiner says, giving a hard slap in my back. I can't even get mad at him because he probably didn't mean for it to hurt. Fucking strong bastard.

— Sorry. Lost track of time.

— You know where the things are — he leaves me behind and disappears through the noisy music.

It's hot inside. August has been particularly cruel this year. I'm using a black t-shirt, which is luckily pretty thin, and my black Adidas pants that are somewhat breathable. My hair is in a bun. I will probably be sweating soon, though. Reiner's AC won't do miracles with this amount of people since it is specially packed today. I guess I might see some new faces tonight, huh.

This fact already makes things more interesting.

I walk through the room and then arrive in the kitchen. Connie and Sasha are there.

— Eren!! — I barely open my mouth to talk and Sasha is already giving me whatever weird drink they made. Their drinks sometimes are... unusual, for the lack of a better word. Most of the time they are simply pure shit. They call it scout's fuel, always the same name regardless of what's inside. Maybe that's why my liver hates me so much.

— Thanks — I'm already used to the goddamn gasoline taste — I guess you both want to get us wasted tonight.

— It's our personal mission, so enjoy the fuel — Connie says laughing, raising his plastic cup. I love this duo – who doesn't? – and I can't help but laugh with them, even though it tastes so bad — Everyone is already here, come on — I follow them and find all the familiar faces I've seen all week: Bertholdt, Historia, Ymir, Mikasa, Annie, Armin, Jean, everyone.

The girls look hot, even though I'm used to them. Either way, I avoid hooking up with my friends since the last time didn't work so well. It's better to avoid Mikasa today.

We all sit together while drinking. I light a joint I had already prepared at home and say — Am I crazy or is Reiner's party bigger than usual? —, releasing the smoke a few seconds after. This one is the best grass we could get around our area, I've saved it primarily for today and now I see that might have been a great decision on my part. I'm glancing through the room and looking for some girls, might share this shit with one - or a few - of them later.

— Thank god, I was tired of seeing your ugly faces every fucking time — Jean says. The girls look at him and he rushes to add — I mean, the boys, of course. It's always nice looking at all of you, ladies.

It's not enough to avoid Annie's kick anyway — We can say the same of you, horse face.

Reiner arrives at the perfect time and explains — Since the new semester starts Monday, news about today traveled fast and we got a lot more company than usual.

— Do you know all of them, Reiner? — Historia asks — I've talked to a bunch of them tonight and there are people from all over the campus and from all years as well — Historia always looks pretty, her blonde hair shining even in the low light of the party. Guys make a line to talk to her at all parties so there's no surprise that she's already familiarized with the whole scenario. I wonder what Ymir thinks of it. Probably followed her during this little field trip.

— Hell, no — he grabs the joint of my hand and sucks deeply — I know some of them and some are Bertholdt's friends but there are some random people.

— I bet Reiner knows a lot of the girls — I take my joint back from his fingers — I assume they aren't Bertholdt's friends, though — and grin.

— Hey, I don't see you with any new company either, dude — Bertholdt tries to grab my weed as well, but I avoid his advances. He instead grabs my cup and drinks all of it, leaving me empty. He makes a funny face at the taste. Suit yourself, man, I think to myself, laughing on the inside.

— Yeah, but I'll work on it in a sec — I tease him knowing that he can't handle much of Sasha and Connie's fuel. He always knocks out before everyone. I hope he realizes he needs to stay awake to try anything with Annie. Someday. He simply never gets there.

Hange arrives almost falling over Ymir and spilling her drink on the floor in the process — I think we should all make a toast and make this last party a wild ride!!! — her yelling stabbing us louder than the music.

— Bitch, you are this fucking drunk already? — Ymir says to her, holding Hange's weight on her back — What the hell did the gasoline duo do to you?

— Okay okay, enough with the questions, let me fill your cups because this is the night! — Sasha says, just pouring all that mystery liquid that soon will go straight to our heads — Also, Reiner, where's the food?

We raise our plastic cups and Connie yells — To the new semester! — and we drink, feeling the immediate burn on our throats. It's hard being a scout.

— I need to get laid today — Jean says as he lays his back on the couch — Gonna arrive for the classes pretty motivated next week — he then rests his left arm at the back pillow, behind Mikasa's head.

— You should start roaming, then — her cold delivery puts Jean's subtle attempt at flirting six feet under the ground, as usual. It was pretty damn quick, but I could notice Mikasa glancing at me and then looking the other way. Yeah, I think I need to start roaming soon, too.

— That sounds great, then let's do that!!! — Hange grabs Jean by the arm and they disappear amongst the crowd.

— When all this fun ends, I'll be the one who will probably have to take him home after he gets slapped by some girls — Armin and Jean live with me so we normally go back together. Armin is the responsible one between us, which is not exactly hard considering how Jean and I are — Gonna at least drink some beer before that happens.

— I'll go with you, this drink sucks — Annie says, finishing the drink anyway and following him. We always drink the last drop of it, we never learn.

The girls went dancing, the music was exceptionally good today. A lot of bands I already liked plus some I have never heard before. I need to remember to ask Reiner for this playlist later. Connie was already surrounded by a different group, everyone likes to talk to him. He is popular. The rest dispersed as well and I could hear Hange's screams far away. This is going to be a night for her, indeed.

I start walking around, meeting a lot of people from my classes and others from the campus in general. I talk to all of them and drink a lot in the process, which feeds my need for nicotine every time. I grab my pack of cigarettes and while smoking, I see Levi.

— I must be dreaming — I say, letting the smoke leave my lips with a smile. It reaches him and looks at me with a deadly expression. He is smoking as well, but he only admits one specific brand of cigarettes and hates all the others. Levi usually doesn't show up at these "brat" parties, as he likes to say, since he's a few years older than us. I normally see him at Shina's, which is a popular club slash bar near our university. He's the owner so we all met him there, after going so many times. Shina has the best parties and the best drinks of all the clubs near us. And it couldn't be any other way, since Levi is a perfectionist. There's also a small stage there, where indie bands perform from time to time. My band does some gigs there sometimes.

— Hey — he replies, as cold as ever. He's Mikasa's cousin, so they have the same expressions and hard-to-approach vibe — Already high, I see.

— Always. In fact, today I hope to be higher than usual. What miracle brings you here?

— Some people from the staff decided to come here today so there are fewer brats to piss me off — he drinks what's probably a high priced whiskey and continues — and there's a new girl at the club so we have been showing her the area for a few weeks now.

— There's a lot of new girls here today — although I know Levi doesn't give a crap.

— So? — yeah, he doesn't.

Levi is a pretty successful business owner and even I have to admit that he's hot – is not only common knowledge but a mutual agreement between everyone –, so girls are always trying to get him, but he doesn't screw most of them. He doesn't fuck brats, period. He says he doesn't have the patience. That makes the girls even more desperate. He has the highest standards of every guy I know. When he was still in university – the same we all go –, he screwed not only the hottest girls but also the professors - which went after him and not the other way around. At least that's what I've heard. I think Levi never had to actively look for any girl, to be honest.

I can only laugh at his reply. That's just so him.

— If you want more stuff than what's already in your system, Floch is over there.

— I want, actually. I was going to look for him — I see Floch's red hair among some folks. Floch is usually as busy as Connie but with less than half of the charisma.

He finishes his cigarette, blowing its last white smoke into the air, and we both hear a loud HELL YEAH!! coming from all the other way across the room — Tsk, is that Hange?

— Pfft, it was before, I think it's Sasha now — he doesn't laugh at my reply. He never does. I think hell would freeze while heaven catches on fire.

I think about the music again. It's so good today, what the hell — Hey Levi, don't you think this playlist is too high quality for a Reiner party? I don't get it, his music taste is always pure trash.

— That's from our new girl — he drinks the last drops of his whiskey and starts to leave — You might find her around here — he then suddenly stops and looks at me — Don't get your hopes up, though.

I am not able to ask what he meant by that because he leaves too quickly. Time to look for Floch.

— Hey, Flo-

— Here.

— You didn't even let me finish.

— I know what you want. You are not in the mood for cocaine so you want MD instead, blah-blah-blah-blah. Is that kind of night — he pauses for mere seconds — Am I wrong, Eren?

— Nope, right as usual — Floch is the main person you go to when you need drugs. I mean, good drugs. He looks like your standard rich boy – which he is, by the way – that can do no wrong, but you can get the best stuff from him. I've always found this funny. The weed I have today was his work. He knows my taste well.

Reiner's frat house is huge, so there's plenty of room to walk. I'm approached by a bunch of girls on the way but for some reason, none of them piques my interest. I am pretty set on going after something new today and I have no problem getting laid. It happened every single day this week and it truly happens anytime I want. Which, okay, boosts my ego a little bit. Maybe a lot. I might even have hurt some girls in the process. I was never slapped though, unlike Jean. So that's a win in my book.

I see a few of my friends again, mainly Historia and Reiner, and they are talking to a girl I've never seen before.

She has long black hair and short messy bangs, the kind that goes a little above the eyebrows. I didn't know black hair was my thing until now. Her face has the perfect features, at least for me. She's wearing a sleeveless white top that is so tight that hugs her figure perfectly and makes her breasts look amazing. That type of top that shows the girl's side boob, and I'm a total sucker for those. It is also short so you can see a bit of her waist. And I don't even have to see her ass because I already know it is probably too damn good. Her light blue ripped jeans are cool as well and she has black sneakers. I like her style. She has a bunch of tattoos - a lot on her right arm, one on her left hand, and probably some that I couldn't see because they were behind her clothes. I intended to, though.

Fuck, she's hot.

Historia looks mesmerized talking to her, which is a very privileged view from where I stand because, as I've already said before, she is also beautiful. But she isn't exactly hot. This girl is. Way too much. Oh, and Reiner is there too. Whatever.

I can see a lot of guys want to approach her but none of them do. I went for it. Wasn't this night supposed to be wild?

— Hey, Eren! Guess what, Y/N is the new DJ at Shina! I was telling her how we go there all the time.

— Hi, Eren, nice to meet you — she says, with that kind of smile that people who know they are hot make. I do that too.

— Hey, Y/N — I say. And as I told you seconds before, I'm good with that type of smile as well so that's what she gets — Levi told me he came with the staff and a new girl, so I suppose that's you.

— Yeah, I'll start there next week.

— I talked to him about the party's playlist because I knew it couldn't be Reiner's.

— Yeah, it's Y/N's. She prepared it for the party when I invited the guys from Shina yesterday. We were in the same high school. — Reiner says that looking at me with a face that shows "See that, dickhead? I've known her for some years now".

— It's pretty good! I can't wait for the next party at Shina's to see your set! — Historia was always an angel.

REINER, WHERE'S THE REST OF THE ICE, MAN??, someone screamed far away.

— Shit. Catch up with you later, Y/N.

Too bad, huh, Reiner? He gives me a look that I can't quite figure out what it is, but I know for sure it wasn't a look of support. In the fucking slightest.

— I think Ymir is calling me as well, sorry!! — It was painfully obvious that Ymir wanted to make out with Historia for some time now. They never did. I think only Historia hasn't realized yet that Ymir is thirsty for her for god knows how long.

After Historia left, there was only me and her — So, by any chance, do you go to the same university as us? You look our age but Levi said you are new here — I tried asking this without looking at her body, but looking at her face was even worse. Her eyes were piercing me in the best way possible.

— I'm not exactly new, I'm from the same uni as you guys, but I took a gap year — she takes a sip of her drink — You probably never met me but I'm in the same year as you all are now.

Since Reiner knew her from high school, he also knew she was at the same university all along and never told any of the guys. Smart fucker.

— So that makes you a year older than me — I smirk at her.

— I guess it does — she smirks back as she lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke at me.

Ok, looking good so far.

I'm pretty high at this point, the MD and the music are making me horny, so I don't even bother to pretend that I'm not looking at her body. I'm looking at everything.

— You took something, didn't you?

— Do you want some? I can show you later where to get the best stuff. Anything you are in the mood for.

— I'm all set — she shows me her tongue and I see the acid. The view makes my own tongue feel lonely, maybe I should use it to steal that from her mouth. I hope she's horny as well.

We talk a lot about music since it's something that we both enjoy. She's passionate about it, I can tell. She asks about my band with true interest. Doesn't sound like small talk. She touches her hair and it makes me want to stuff my face in it. She has the smile that makes you want more. Her voice has the same effect.

The loud music allows us to talk near each other's ears. I hope she moans as loud as her playlist. The girls usually love my hair for some reason, either if it's in a messy bun as it is right now or if it's loose. They all love my green eyes too. She can see all that with somewhat detail since we are so close, even though it is a little dark here. If I take you to a room you can see me better, I almost blurb it out. I can see her too and that kills me.

She looks receptive to me but normally at this point I would be already hooking up with the girl. This time it isn't happening. I never have to work so much. I think I understand why the other guys didn't approach her before. She's a little intimidating to talk to, and that comes naturally to her – it doesn't seem to be on purpose. I flirt with her the way I normally do but she is hard to get, she hits every ball I throw. I remember what Levi said before. Oh, right.

But I'm vibing way too much at this point, I think if I touch any part of her I'll get hard immediately.

— This gap year you've mentioned... Did you go anywhere specific?

— I know it will sound cliché, but I went to Europe.

— Where in Europe?

— Everywhere — she says — I went down — the corner of her lips forming a smile  — And up. Everywhere. — and I can swear she sounds flirtatious as hell. I want to bite her lip.

— That sounds... Awesome. — I think she wants to bite me too, or at least I hope she does — Was there any particular reason to leave? If that's not too much to ask.

— Hm, I was kinda... — she stops to think for a few seconds as she holds her hair up and makes a ponytail, looking at the ground, the cigarette glued to her now closed lips. Her neck became exposed, it looks soft as hell and I can't wait to bruise it. She releases the smoke, that flows into the room, and looks deep into my eyes, as deep as I want to be inside her right now — ...stressed.

I reach my limit at this point.

— I can help you with the stress if you want.

— Really? — she's looking at me with the same teasing look and I'm doing the same, so we both know that's not a question I have to answer. Her tongue quickly passes through her top lip, her mouth forming a little wet smile — I don't think I need any help though.

I threw the ball and she hit a home run. My team was out.

I was not expecting that.

We hear some of the guys from Shina calling for her — Oh, they are calling me — Y/N looks at me again and says — See you around, Eren — giving me the same fucking grin I wanted to bite before.

She walks away and I see that her ass is, as I suspected from the very beginning, too damn good.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

After this, some time has passed. I look at the clock. Yeah, maybe a lot. I couldn't tell before because I'm drunk and drugged. I see most of my friends, all fucking wasted. Armin is holding up pretty well, Bertholdt's is knocked down for God knows how long, Mikasa probably smoked way too much weed (who am I to judge?) and looks dead on the couch. I don't see Ymir, Historia nor Reiner - there are too many people in this house to keep count. Sasha's eating something in the kitchen, I can't see what it is, but certainly, she got hungrier than normal after smoking some pot Connie gave her. Connie always holds his drinks well, he's still talking to a lot of people. I pass in front of one of the bathrooms and Hange is there, getting everything out of her system. Oh, and Ymir. There she is, holding Hange's hair, looking as pissed as ever. Levi probably went home hours ago. Jean is making out with some chick, he's going to score tonight. To be fair, he always does, but never with Mikasa.

I saw a lot of pretty girls today and I went for none of them. They tried and I shut them down, even the ones I normally fuck. There's someone I want to taste tonight and she's nowhere to be found. The guys from Shina are missing too, so I know I won't see her today anymore. Damn.

I'm not pissed at her but I'm pissed at the situation.

— Armin, I think I'm going to take off, are you coming?

— Yeah, I'm already pretty tired — he gets up — Jean's probably going to stay here.

— Yep. Probably. — Am I pissed that Jean's getting laid? Even though I could have as well? With someone else, at least? My mood feels off.

— I'm going with you too, I've lost count of how many assholes I had to shut down today. I think I even punched a few — I don't have to look to know that's Annie speaking — You were right, Eren, is it especially crowded today. In the shittiest way possible.

— Then let's go.

— Wait, I need to get my bag first, I left it in Reiner's room.

— I can get that for you, wait up.

— It's a black one. Small.

I sign a thumbs up for her and climb the stairs. I am hundred percent sure I'm going to see someone fucking there but that's the usual. I'm pretty sure I've already seen some people screwing in the corner of the living room minutes before. No one cares.

I open the door and see Y/N in her underwear, putting her white top back on. She does indeed have other tattoos.

— Hey there! — she says smiling, as she also puts her jeans back up, making little jumps so they pass through her ass. Her hair is not in a ponytail anymore.

I say hi in a confusing way.

— I came here to get my friend's bag — I look around for milliseconds like I don't know where the hell I am until I see Reiner lying - clearly naked - under his sheets. Can't be anyone else, with that bleached hair and huge biceps.

What? Ahn?

Hey... Wait a second.

Historia? Clearly naked as well? What. The. Hell. I guess she's not exactly the angel I thought she was?

They are sort of awake, sort of sleeping, kinda like on a different planet. You know, the type of thing that happens after a really strong fuck? That sort. They look exhausted. They look destroyed. And not in a bad way. AT ALL.

— Oh, I saw a bag before. Here you go — she gives me Annie's bag. She's all dressed now. She notices my confusion, I'm too high to act any other way — I've told you I don't need any help — her eyes piercing mine for the hundredth time tonight. Her smile hurts now. Ouch.

She grabs her sneakers and walks towards me and the door:

— I'm all set.

She leaves the room as I hold Annie's bag.

Yeah. I was not expecting that.

***

Thanks for reading (if there's even anyone here lmao). Chapter 2 will be uploaded later but it can be read now at AO3 or Wattpad.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 17

Happy Chronicles day, everyone! I’m so happy I got to put some more work in this weekend, and I can’t believe I’m in the home stretch of actually writing everything out, gosh…

anyway, I hope you enjoy this update!

from: itsdjbubbles

bro??? what HAPPENED?

to: itsdjbubbles

it’s… a long story.

The problem isn’t that Mr. Dupain drives Luka back to the Liberty . Actually, that’s the cool part. Or, as close as he can get to “cool,” given the circumstances. He’s never been in a delivery van before—he’s only ever delivered by bicycle—and it’s nice to see Paris as a soundproof blur, especially to the rhythm Mr. Dupain taps out on the steering wheel. He spends most of the ride with a sandwich bag of ice on his knee, studying the postcard Marinette handed him just before she hopped in the back seat. Because she insisted.

(The postcard complements the flyer perfectly. She really does know what she’s doing. He shouldn't be surprised.)

Marinette doesn’t tell him exactly who is going to kill her, but she doesn’t have to. It’s, uncomfortably, all over her face as soon as they pull up to the bank of the Seine, where Juleka is waiting for him. As Marinette climbs to take his place in the front seat, she gives him a tight smile. The kind that tries with all its might to be kind. The kind that tries with all its might to cover something up.

Luka’s eyes narrow. “Are you… okay?”

The smile never leaves her face; in fact, it seems like it’s trying even harder to stay. Her gaze drifts just past him, then flickers down to where he’s shifted all his weight to his good leg. “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“Marinette…”

She gives him a little wave goodbye before pulling the door shut, and Luka swears he can see traces of some sudden fatigue through the tinted glass of the passenger window.

Juleka’s expression is just as muted when he hobbles over to her. “Come on, dumbass,” she says, slinging his arm over her shoulder. “You can tell me all about it inside.”

That’s the nice thing about Juleka, at least: she puts the people she loves first, always. Sometimes even in spite of herself. It seems like she and Marinette are similar that way.

“So,” he says, even as she all but dumps him on the couch. “How long am I gonna be in the middle of, uh.” He gestures vaguely with the hand that hurts less. “Whatever’s going on here?”

“I dunno,” Juleka shoots back with a shrug, already looking for an ice pack. “How long am I gonna be in the middle?”

Well. She kind of has a point. “Sorry.”

“No, I…” She sighs, “I’m sorry. It’s just… weird. I can’t even ask if you get it because, duh, of course you don’t.”

Luka studies his nails. “They’re looking kinda chipped, y’know?”

“Sounds like you just want me to wait on you hand and foot.” Juleka sinks onto the couch, carefully resting the ice pack on his knee. For a while, she doesn’t say anything else, simply focuses on where his leg is propped up and occasionally on his nails. Once, her gaze darts over to the postcard still in his hand, and then it flicks away almost immediately, as if maybe it shouldn't have lingered there. Before long, she sits back, still not looking at him, and says, “Why are you doing this, Luka?”

It’s vague enough that Luka doesn’t feel entirely stupid for asking, “Doing what?”

To her credit, she doesn’t give him the look that says the Lord is testing her. But then, neither of them really totally believes in a Lord, anyway. “All this… Marinette stuff.”

It’s the first time he’s heard Juleka say her name. It doesn’t sound as bitter or scared as he thought. Just… hesitant. For all he doesn’t know, it still checks out. “I thought you were cool with it?”

“I mean, I am,” she says, but it doesn’t feel as relieving as it should. “I don’t wanna get in the way of… whatever’s going on. It's your thing, so it's your business.”

“I don’t think you’re in the way,” He pauses. “But… I wasn’t totally joking about the whole ‘caught in the middle’ thing. I don’t want—I don’t wanna try anymore if you’re just gonna get more uncomfortable with it because of…” A shrug. “Whatever’s going on. Or went on.”

“No offense,” Juleka quips back, “but it doesn’t seem like that mattered much when you started talking to that Bubbles guy.”

“You’re upset about the gig.”

“I’m not upset about the gig, I just—” This close, Luka can see nearly every muscle in her body go tight; she must feel vulnerable, because she bolts to her feet and makes for the fridge to start on dinner. “You kind of cornered me with this shit,” she says, once she’s got some distance on him. “It felt like, yeah, I could say no, but I’d be an awful person if I did. An awful… sister.” She pauses only to tie her hair up and out of her eyes; it’s nice, how mature she looks when she wears it that way. Or maybe it’s just her words getting to him. “That’s why it bothered me so much when you kept insisting you weren’t doing it to impress her. And maybe you don’t think you are, but… all the stuff you’re doing isn’t exactly convincing me otherwise.”

She’s staring at the postcard now, allowing herself to, as if it might prove her point, and... well, Luka can’t entirely refute it. “D’you wanna cancel it? “he asks. “Call a meeting?”

Juleka shakes her head, wrinkling her nose when the end of her ponytail tickles her face. “We’re already in this. Might as well keep going.”

“I mean... “ He gestures toward his leg. “We have an out.”

“Unless you’re planning on doing some sick-nasty knee-guitar playing like Jimi Hendrix or something, I think you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think Jimi Hendrix ever played with his knee,” Luka scoffs, wincing when a few pots clang together as Julie’s trying to wrestle are out. He wishes he could help; it’d actually beat picking the rest of the polish off his nails and feeling out the way his knee won’t stop throbbing. “Would… you still feel like this if it were somebody else?”

Juleka pauses; Luka was sort of hoping it would tell him more than it actually does. “I mean… yeah, I guess? Maybe just… not as much.”

“Will you ever tell me what happened? Between you two?” He probably shouldn’t ask. He definitely shouldn’t ask. But somehow, he doesn’t really regret it. And he doesn’t regret it, either, when he adds, “Do you… hate her? Secretly? Or something?”

The stove clicks to life, and Juleka shakes her head even as she’s rummaging through the cupboards. “Nah,” she says, hollow though she sounds. “I don’t hate her. But I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the other way around. I’d probably deserve it.”

Luka doesn’t know what stings more: that Marinette could ever be capable of hating anyone, or that anyone could ever be capable of hating his baby sister. Or that she could ever think that she deserved it.

Then Marinette’s words ring in his ear again—why would you ever think that you deserve any pain?— and his thoughts die away. He’s got no leg to stand on, literally or figuratively. Or maybe it’s that if he can think that Juleka’s good and deserving, then he can think the same of himself, someday. Or someone else can think the same of him. someday.

But “someday” and “maybe” feel like nothing more than a spark that’s gone as quickly as it arrived, and Luka can’t be bothered to stick around and find out when—if—it’ll ever burst into flames.

“Look,” Juleka says over the cooking. “I’ll cut you a deal. You stop throwing yourself, and Kitty Section, into all these new ideas just so you can impress or get close to Marinette... and I’ll figure out how to tell you what happened. All right?”

She doesn’t have to do this; she’s made her point already, no matter how much his own curiosity is getting to him. But he knows how she gets when she’s set on something, because it’s practically in their blood. He holds his tongue and nods dumbly, trying to work his knee through the scrape and the swelling. It still throbs and stings in protest, though not as badly as before. He’ll try not to push it—by which he means he’ll be up and at it again tomorrow, just… hobbling instead of sprinting.

“What’re you gonna tell Ma?” Juleka asks.

“Easy.” He smiles, half-satisfied, and slumps back. “I fell for someone.”

“I cannot stand you.”

“Then sit,” Luka says, and he makes a grab for his phone.

to: itsdjbubbles just got plenty of time to practice before the 29th, huh?

from: itsdjbubbles man, you’re ridiculous

to: itsdjbubbles i’m surprised you didn’t figure that out sooner.

[sweet-rintarou]

High school romance was the best way to describe your current feeling. It was almost comical how your heart was beating within your chest, as if awaiting a text message from the crush you had in science class.

You were packing for the trip to the next gig you had, while simultaneously rehearsing how you were to talk to Ushijima once he had arrived. Standing in front of your mirror, if anyone were to see you in this moment, they'd assume you were pathetic on the spot.

"Oh hello," you began, wanting to play it off cool and innocent, "oh? These are for me? Oh my gosh, thank you so much they are absolutely beautiful." You released a giggle, hoping that it came off natural. It did not.

"Crap, if I say it like that then he'd immediately leave," you complained to yourself. "Damn it, how do I bridge this conversation so it can continue...?"

"What about: oh, aren't you Semi's friend from high school? So you work a flower store?... No, what if he criticizes me for saying 'flower store' and not 'floral outlet'?"

A knock on the door had caused your rehearsal to be cut short, your heart practically beating out of your chest upon hearing the sound only to be disappointed when Semi himself was standing outside your apartment. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I texted you," he uttered, "you didn't respond so I just came by."

"Very unethical of you," you tsked, "please leave before my prince charming arrives."

"Oh please, more like prince deadpan," he scoffed, "good luck trying to make a conversation with him."

"Help me then," you whined, your bottom lip jutted out dramatically and eyes widened.

"Why did you even order flowers for yourself? You could've just approached him in person, you know?" He said matter-of-factly. "And why did you try to play it off as if I ordered? I'd never do such a thing."

"Yeah I get it, you're an ass," you stated, rolling your eyes. "And I told you! He's scary in person."

"That's so judgemental, Y/n, I'm disappointed," he feigned a saddened sigh. When I only responded with an unimpressed look, he hastily sighed, "Just be straightforward with him, he's terrible with basic chit-chat, and probably doesn't have the time for it either—so just say what you want."

"I want him."

"Not that straightforward, what the fuck? He doesn't even know," he roughly pushed at your forehead. "You're just going to creep–"

A knock sounded at your door, cutting him off. A breathy squeal escaped your lips as you practically skipped towards your door. "Coming~"

Pulling the door open, there stood the stoic look of Ushijima Wakatoshi, adorned in a T-shirt and jeans, and a cap covering his hair, his business logo embroidered to the black cap. "Good afternoon, we—at Wakatoshi Floral—received an order for L/n Y/n, is she here?"

"Yes, I am she," you smiled up at him, taking note of the clear 8 inches he had over you. His lips slightly tilted up, stretching his hand out to give the flowers to me. Recalling your rehearsal, you uttered—not as natural, may that be added, "Oh my gosh, these are beautiful, who sent them?"

"They wish to remain anonymous," he informed. "If that is all, I'll be on my way."

Fuck, that was quick, you bitterly thought. "Wait–" you hastily called out, garnering his attention. Straightforward, Semi's words echoed through your head. "I think you're cute, can I have your number?" The silence Ushijima had placed between the two of you was suffocating, to the point you panicked and almost took your words back. Was that too straightforward? Oh my gosh, he's going to think I'm weird.

"I'm sorry but you apparently have a secret admirer, I don't feel comfortable with this situation," he answered honestly, sparing a glance at the flowers you just received as if to say "are you fucking serious?"

"Uh... Uhm... " You were trying to find something—anything—to rebuttal his statement but came out with nothing.

"If that's all, I'll take my leave here—I still have other deliveries to proceed with." Choked up on your words—or lack of—you watched as he disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing by your doorway, shell shocked.

A stifled laugh sounded from behind you, to which you turned to see Semi with a hand over his mouth, bathing in the embarrassment you had brought on to yourself.

"Don't make throw these at you," you warned him, holding the bouquet up.

"Do that and you'll break Ushi's heart," he retorted. You could only pathetically stick your tongue out at him.

silver lining | w. ushijima smau

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part five

—pathetic

author's note: tbh writing the written is tiring, so im avoiding having a narrated scene 😔 anyway, im really sorry that my updates are so scarce, cuz I started college again and it's been somewhat hectic despite being online as well, hopefully y'all are still reading 🥺

taglist: @alienvarmint @amberisnotcrazy @naughtylittleweeb @tycrackculture @someone-you-dontknow @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @stargirlara @brownsugartea @leviathans-watching @kenjiru @ushiwakaismybae @elianetsantana @kagebunshiin (send an ask if you want to be added)

[natromanxoff]

I am sure many of you have already read this one but here are some parts from Ash Alexander’s Queen journey for those who haven’t!

“...At some point in early At some point in early 1983 on a visit to Jacky at the QFC, John Deacon wondered into the office. He came into the basement office and said hello as Jacky introduced me, sat down and spent a little time reading through press clippings. He could easily have slipped away back upstairs, but the fact that he stayed was a nice touch.

Another fan club letter arrived with good news. In Another fan club letter arrived with good news. In November 1983, fan club members were invited to help in a video for the new single 'Radio Ga Ga' at Shepperton Studios. Again, my Mum stepped up and drove me down for the day. I took the day off school and had just turned 14. We arrived at the studio and were ushered into a huge hanger where we were kitted out with white body suits and then sprayed with a light grey stripe on each arm - even now I’m not sure what the spray paint was for as you can’t see it in the video. When we had all been prepared, we were taken into an adjoining hanger and were greeted by the band and an initial play through of the song. The rest of the day was spent clapping as you’ll see in the video. I wound up in the front row, opposite Brian. If you look closely and you know what you’re looking for, you can see me!

In between takes, I approached John Deacon who was surprisingly on his own. I remember trying to remain calm as I approached him. I didn’t mention our brief meeting, I asked him how to get a job in recording studios and that I was interested in pursuing a career as a sound engineer. He was really helpful and took time to explain the usual route.

On 22, March 1984 at Limehouse Studios in London’s docklands, the video for ‘I Want To Break Free’ was filmed, again with the help of fan club members. I went along with my brother Andrew. The set was a big dark staircase that we all stood on. We were given black bodysuits this time that were sprouted with hello paint on the arms. We also wore a hard hat with a head lamp attached to it. The band were set in the middle of us all. After all the filming, we returned to the main building where we said hello to Roger. He’d come out to say thanks. Later, waiting for a cab down in reception, Freddie glided down the staircase and past us with his entourage. I remember wanting to get up and say thanks, but the opportunity was missed.

...20th April 1992. My friend Chesney Hawkes was managed by Trinifold. They also managed The Who. He invited me along to the Freddie Mercury Tribute gig at Wembley. Roger Daltry was appearing and Ches had a spare ticket. He only had one backstage pass though. This was overcome by him befriending the chap on the security door. Ches came out to meet me with his pass. He returned on his own and got in. I confidently flashed my pass and entered the Hard Rock tented area. Ches beckoned me over from the other side of the room. He was signing autographs for a lady, her two children and an older lady was with them. He introduce me to them saying I was a huge Queen fan. ‘This is Freddie’s mother' he whispered to me. I remember saying to her that I wish we’d met under different circumstances and how deeply sorry I was about her loss and how incredibly proud she should be. I often wonder about her.

...In Spring 1993, I was in front office. It was well after midnight and I’d left a s session for a little break. As usual, I took a look in the studio diary to see what was coming up. I flicked through the weeks and came upon an booking entry “Studio 3 - QUEEN” for 2 weeks that was pencilled in. There was no further info than that. I put my initials next to the booking thinking there would be a rational explanation as to what the booking really was. I soon found myself on a 2 week session with Queen.My diary from 1993 is lost, so I have only a mental note as to when & what songs were touched upon at this initial stage of 'Made In Heaven'. We started taking delivery of various multitrack tapes on varied formats. These were then transferred to digital 48 track tapes for future work. Roger & John were alone on these sessions as Brian was touring in Japan. I remember Roger being rather dismissive of Brian being unavailable, much like a brother sledging his sibling would do, with a slightly jealous edge but genuine at the same time.

...Over the 2 week session, Roger would suggest we went out for dinner. We had 3 or 4 meals out at a local Italian restaurant. Even now I laugh at jumping into the back of Roger’s Merc and the four of us driving down Abbey Road to the restaurant. It was owned by an Italian lady that would force you to smell her ‘wonderful mushrooms’ from a jar, which she made Roger do. On our initial meal she told Roger he looked familiar. ‘I know you’, she said. ‘Where have I seen you before?’ ‘Well, I’m in a band and we’ve been on TV before.’ Roger replied. John seemed calm with his lack of recognition. ‘What group do you play for?’ she asked. ‘I’m the drummer in a rock n roll band called Queen’ he replied. ‘No - I don’t hear of this band’ …We finished our food and the bill was called for. It showed up. John took it and asked Roger if he should use the Queen card to pay for it or his own card.

Roger’s drum kit arriving half way through the first week of sessions was a surprise for Noel Harris (the engineer) & me. We expected the sessions to be playing back tapes and working through the various formats to find possible material to be worked on at a later date. Noel was unfamiliar with the room in studio 3 and asked my opinion where to set the kit up and what microphones I would use. Eventually he left me to it. The kit was positioned and I mic’d it up that evening. John had his red Fender bass DI’d (no amp was used) and sat with us in the control room. I doubt these recordings made it through to the final mixes, it’s nice to think that they did.

...Tuesday 5th September

During the afternoon Brian’s guitar and a Vox AC30 appeared in the studio, brought in by Pete Malandrone. We were to do guitar overdubs on ‘You Don't Fool Me’. David asked me to put two Shure 421 microphones pointing into the back of the speaker cabinet. We did have two SM57’s on the front but these weren’t used in the recording.

I had to do a recall of the mix, which meant noting all of the studio outboard settings so we could get back to the mix and finish it off.

We had a technical problem with the Sony 3348 tape machine and eventually had it swapped for a new one. Brian clearly wasn’t aware we weren’t ready for him. I was half way through telling him and Jim Beach jumped in and finished off my explanation. Brian got really cross with him and slammed an empty coffee mug down on the studio table. Later Brian was so apologetic for his outburst. He must have told Jim he was sorry 4 times. As I type this I note it was Freddie’s birthday.

Brian slipped on his guitar that was linked to his amp with one lead. No pedals. His sound was instant and we were soon ready to record. He stood in front of the console in the control facing David & me.

Brian had an idea of what he wanted to play. The guitar riff had already been recorded. The solo guitar is what was added. Brian used a scrap of paper that he drew a map of dots on. Not like musical notation but his own short hand. It reminded me of being at the 'Radio Ga Ga' video shoot 13 years earlier. I was the same distance from Brian as I was then, but the scenario was beyond my imagination.

...Friday 8th September

Day Off - I may have met Pete Malandron at the Sun Inn in Barnes this afternoon. The QIFC was based round the corner at the time & Brian had a house there too, although I'm not sure he lived there at the time. I was with a friend and Pete joined us in the pub. He sat near the window and kept looking out of it. I asked what he was looking at and he replied "I always get worried when I'm out with Brian's guitar. It's in the boot of the car you see." He stayed for one drink and decided it was time to leave.

...One of the evenings of this second week, George Michael came to visit. There was a strong possibility that he would sing on one of the songs. Roger, John, Brian, David, George & I sat chatting in the control room. One of the conversations moved onto the Beatles and their current 'best of' release. I think Brian suggested that it was a bad idea releasing all their old material and I piped up that the fans would buy it regardless, much like the scenario Queen were about to face with the imminent release of the album. There was a deathly hush as I realised what I was saying. I wasn’t being at all derogatory. I was helped out of the hole I was digging by George who agreed with me and we moved on. No one actually spoke about doing a vocal. After George left the studio that evening, Roger was clear that he wasn’t keen on the idea.After looking through the Vintage Car garage across the road from the studio one afternoon, Roger saw a black Cadillack convertible that he quite liked. The following morning he came into the studio and said ‘Don’t tell Jim, but I bought the car.’ It was £80, 000.

Brian asked me if had been involved in the Abbey Road Sessions. Perhaps he’d seen my name on the tape boxes. I said that I was. Immediately he made a phone call. I didn’t hear all that he said, but I knew it was about a special thanks on the album credits. The following morning, after the artwork had been finalised, Roger came in and said ‘morning Aardvark’. Because the special thanks were alphabetic, I was on top of the list. It wasn’t until I bought a copy of the album and saw my name on it that I finally took on board that I had actually achieved one of my dreams.”

[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.

[infawrit10]

Y’all... stop me if you’ve heard this before but... America’s Got Talent AU

Okay so this is one of the first ideas I actually ever had for this fandom but I,,, can’t be bothered to actually write it in fic form. I tried, but I just... can’t be bothered lol. So it’s going here.

Okay, roles!

Roman’s a singer, I don’t think that surprises anybody.

He’s a baritone and is Proud Of It—they don’t get the recognition they deserve!!!

The boy sang before he could even form a sentence; he’s always just been ✨ musical ✨

Got the lead in every school play, and was playing bars before he could drink and the security people had to haul him out by his shirt collar just to make sure he’d leave after each set dsfjkdc

Came to the show because he knows a lot of singers win lmao

Patton is a comedian!

At the auditions, he goes around to people who look nervous just to give them a friendly smile and crack a joke or two just to give them something else to focus on for a few minutes before they have to get ready to go onstage.

He’s got a little bit of a gimmick where he’s just Everyone’s Dad.

In the recorded package they have for his act for the televised cut, there’s actually shots of him going around to different people and being distinctly Dad-like. One of them is of him and Virgil sitting on a crate together and Virgil looking at him frankly and saying, “I’m not your son.”

The judges immediately love him. They love his positive energy and they mostly love his jokes—though some of them do groan at some of his more painful puns.

Logan is a mentalist. Man is BRILLIANT.

Has been called a mind reader on more occasions than he can count on his fingers and toes.

He’s a professor by day, but at night he does gigs at clubs and things of that nature. He basically wanted to be Sherlock Holmes/Hercule Poirot So Badly when he was a kid that he just sort of,,, developed telecommunicative powers djsafndsknc

Jkjk, he’s just Incredible with deduction, and when the judges say that he accomplished his goal of becoming Sherlock Holmes he smiles so wide and it catches the stage lights so nicely and many people in the audience abruptly feel faint.

Virgil’s I actually came up with first. He’s an escape artist. I figured anxiety, scaring the pants off of people, makes sense.

He could actually be classified as agoraphobic, but he realized he wanted so much more than fear in his life, and not doing anything day in an day out depressed him so badly that he basically tried to push himself to the complete opposite end of the spectrum and just,,, started trying to figure out how to escape straight jackets (he much prefers gay jackets) and other such things lol.

His whole schtick is with each act he does, he wants to face one of his greatest fears.

He came to the show to prove to himself that he could do this. And because it also conquers a fear of looking stupid/making a fool of himself on camera.

Despite how nervous he is, his delivery is actually Really smooth. He’s smug, sarcastic and dry, riding the line between being a total a-hole and super endearing.

When the judges first meet him and question him before his act, he’s so nervous. His voice shakes, he’s looking up through his bangs at all the people in the crowd and it’s all so Much that he seriously contemplates walking off and abandoning the whole idea. But when the questioning ends and they invite him to start, he bounces in place a little bit to shake out the nerves, claps his hands once decisively, and to anyone not inside his head, it seems like he’s entirely level-headed and ready.

(I came up with this so long ago that in my notes, Janus is labeled as Deceit ajdnalsdnlf)

Janus is a magician!

He’s incredibly good with close-up magic—card tricks, etc.—but he definitely has a flair for the dramatic and is a natural showman, so he easily establishes himself as one of the strongest contenders in the competition.

Remus is a gross-out act. He’s one of those acts that reminds you of a car wreck, where it’s so awful you don’t want to look, but you just Absolutely Have To out of pure grim fascination. He’s the act the people watching at home fast forward through on their DVRs.

The judges are astounded by how different he is to his brother, and the production team LOVES reminding the audience both in-house and on TV that they’re brothers. At every possible opportunity, they’re compared, and Roman absolutely Hates it.

Also Remy’s a comedian and Emile does impeccable impressions of cartoon characters!

Btw, I’d have OCs fill in for the judges because most of the judges annoy the heck out of me ndafsfandskl

This is getting really long, but if you ever have questions on this AU, don’t be afraid to send ‘em in!

[hypnofur1]

Out For Delivery in Dallas

By Hypnofur

Mid February 2021

The irony was, none of the three beings in this tale had lived in Dallas for more than a month. Brittany and Timothy Cosgrove had just purchased their expensive condo on the North side of Dallas in January. Carlos Torres had been living in El Paso Texas for a very long time, and had just recently come to the Dallas area.

None of them, actually no one in all of Texas, expected the winter blast they got in mid February. The entire state was a disaster. Texans just didn’t know how to handle winter weather. Brittany and Timothy had just moved here from Indianapolis, so to them, this wasn’t even that bad a winter storm. However, agreeing to the purchase of matching his and her’s Corvettes was part of the Brittany’s compromise to get her husband to agree to move to Dallas. Brittany had just gotten a job with one of the DFW area’s top hospitals as their chief nutritionist. More importantly, she had struck a deal with the ABC affiliate to be their on air Nutrition expert. Brittany’s ultimate goal was to parlay her beauty, and nutrition expertise, into a gig on the national scene. Good Morning America or something.

Timothy knew this, and he loved Brittany very much. He would have moved to Dallas without the Corvette deal, as he knew it was a much bigger media market than Indy. However, he was an attorney, and it was in his DNA to negotiate. Thus, the two corvettes. He of course didn’t know it was going to snow here in Texas, thus, he didn’t really care much that his luxury condo was on one of the few hills in Dallas. Corvettes did not go up hill in the snow very well.

It was about 6:00 when Brittany forced Timothy to watch the #freebrittany documentary with her on FX. She was always fascinated with Brittany Spears, due to them having the same name and being about the same age. Timothy agreed to watch it, as he had been hogging the TV with sports for a few days now. By the time the show was over, it was like 7:30, and both were starving.

Each of the young urban professionals scanned their phones for some place that would deliver. But between the weather and power outages all around, there were no good restaurants that were options. The only place open was a McDonalds two blocks away.

“No way!” Brittany laughed. “Tim, I haven’t been to a McDonalds in like 11 years. I’m not starting tonight. I’ll starve first thanks.”

“OK, but I don’t want to. Come with me, you can at least get a salad. They have those.” Tim negotiated.

“Do you know what is in those???” Brittany said, then stopped herself. She had learned a while ago that people didn’t like when she annoyingly listed all of the bad ingredients in food. “Argh, ok. I’ll take a walk with you there.” She relented with a smile.

Once there, she remembered how much she loved Orange Soda. Tim smiled, but didn’t tease her about it. She appreciated that. She actually hated being teased. She snuggled up to him as they walked out of the McDonalds and headed back to their condo through the snowy mess.

Carlos was also very hungry on this winter night. He was miserable, he absolutely hated the cold. Born in Mexico, and then spending a tremendous amount of time in El Paso, he had never had to deal with cold and snow like this. He wished he was back in Mexico this evening. Carlos’ move to Dallas wasn’t based on career advancement though, it was based on Covid-19 vaccinations. More specifically, the blood of humans who had been vaccinated.

This past year had been the worst of Carlos’ 209 on this earth. The last 150 in El Paso had been wonderful. Feeding on the blood of Mexican immigrants who crossed the border with little identification. Knowing that the secretive nature of the illegal immigrant community would stop any real deep inquisitions into mysterious deaths. It was also nice and warm. It was the perfect place for the vampire.

However, Covid-19 changed all that. Feasting on the blood of a human with Covid made him incredibly sick, for weeks at a time. Over and over everytime he bit someone with the disease. He eventually learned how to smell Covid, but only in humans that had it bad. He, like everyone else, couldn’t detect it in the asymptomatic. Therefore, also like everyone else, he was very pleased when the vaccines started coming out. Much to his pleasure, he could smell the chemicals in vaccinated humans’ blood. He could detect who was vaccinated, and who was not.

That’s why he migrated up to Dallas. People in El Paso were getting the vaccine, but it was largely the elderly. Elderly blood didn’t taste nearly as good as the blood of those in their prime. The large medical community in Dallas meant lots of people in their 20’s and 30’s who had gotten the vaccine as part of the “first responder” roll out.

Brittany and Timothy had both received their shots (both doses) in Indianapolis. Brittany got it because she worked for a hospital, and she was able to get Timothy in because of her connections. As he approached the young urban couple, Carlos could smell the Moderna in them. He had quickly come to love that scent. His mood, which had been quite dour due to the snow and ice and cold, was quickly improving. He thought he’d have a very hard time finding food tonight, but here it was being delivered right to him.

Brittany and Timothy saw the short, somewhat rotund Mexican man approaching them as they were still laughing about McDonalds. Brittany had actually gotten a refill of Orange Soda before they left. They laughed as they joked about cameras seeing them and her soda getting reported to ABC. Carlos was really caught off guard by this weather, and was wearing what would be considered “summer clothes”.

“Look at this poor guy” Timothy said to his wife. While he was a very aggressive, very greedy corporate attorney, he was also very kind and generous. That is one of the reasons Brittany loved him with her whole heart and soul.

“Are you ok my friend?” Timothy asked the man as he and his wife slowly came to a stop on the icy hill to greet the stranger who was coming up it.

“Actually, I’m very hungry and I hate the cold.” the man answered back. Neither Brittany or Timothy immediately noticed that unlike them, when he spoke, there was no steam coming from his mouth on this frigid evening.

“Here, why don’t you take my scarf and some money. There is a McDonalds two blocks North. They are open, we just came from there.” Timothy said, handing the man both his expensive scarf, and $50. Brittany had never loved him more. As she watched with love and admiration as her tall, athletic, handsome husband committed a random act of kindness for a hungry, short, poor, sexy Mexican man.

Wait, why do I find that little guy sexy? Brittany suddenly asked herself. What was it about him? She studied him a little more, and as she did, she felt her pussy actually tingle a bit. God, he was hot. She had never been attracted to Hispanic guys before, especially little short fat ones. What the hell was going on? Why was he so fucking sexy? Brittany was suddenly very glad she had put a cute outfit on and decided to look good going to McDonalds.

“Do you live around here?” Carlos asked Timothy.

“Y-yes” Timothy answered, also oddly affected by the stranger as well.

“Do you own your home?” Carlos asked.

“yes” Timothy confirmed again.

Now Carlos’ mood really improved. Humans knew a lot about Vampire lore, but there were some things that they didn’t truly understand. This was very true surrounding some of the rules of being invited into a home. It could only be done by the true owner of the home. Therefore, renters could not invite a vampire in. Also, another little known fact was that a vampire could hypnotically compel his victim to invite him into their home, but only if the victim was not currently in the home. So, that meant while he couldn’t just knock on a door and get someone to invite him in, these two humans that were “out for delivery” fit the bill just perfect.

“Soy tu Maestra” Carlos said to Timothy, who understood perfectly as he stared back deep into the vampire’s eyes. “Invitame a tu casa”

“Please, won’t you come inside?” Timothy asked.

This was enough to wake Brittany from the light sexual trance she was in. She suddenly felt the coolness of her now damp panties. Wait, Tim shouldn’t invite a stranger into their home… “Tim, hold on…” she said.

“Mirame a los ojos” Carlos said to the Irish Scotish Italian American beauty who took French in high school and did not speak a lick of Spanish. Yet, her eyes immediately darted to his. She could almost feel her thoughts being unavoidably pushed aside. Even her concern over this odd situation was fading away, replaced by a growing sexual attraction, and a need to submit… to obey as he said to her, “Soy tu Maestra”

“Lead the way” Carlos directed Timothy. The husband took his wife’s hand and lead the stranger the rest of the way down the snow covered street back to their condo. Brittany continued to look back at Carlos, she couldn’t help it. He was so fascinating, so sexual. She tried to stop herself. She knew she was married, and she had truly never wanted anyone other than Timothy since they met a decade ago. But Carlos, the short, pudgy little Mexican man, was absolutely irresistible.

Carlos asked Timothy to formally invite him in once more as they reached the condo. He of course obliged. Carlos looked around as he stepped inside. First of all, it felt nice to be warm again. He was also glad he had found these two out and about in a neighborhood that actually had power. So much of Texas was in the dark. The condo was very tastefully decorated, and Carlos could quickly tell that the couple had money.

He politely asked Brittany to lock all the doors and close all the blinds, which she did immediately. She was so turned on by him that she didn’t even wonder why he was doing that. When the last of the drapes were pulled closed, he thanked her. They locked eyes. She felt her heart jump and her nipples harden. Her pussy was already soaked. She seductively walked over to him as he embraced her in a long sensual kiss. Carlos was all that mattered to her. Timothy had been forgotten.

However, Timothy had not forgotten her. The sight of his beautiful, beloved wife passionately making out with another man was enough to snap him out of his trance.

“Brittany, stop! Something is fucked up here!” Timothy shouted.

Carlos stopped kissing and glared over at Timothy. Brittany however was still kissing his face as he looked away, lovingly stroking his hair, completely in his thrall. Timothy felt a cold chill as Carlos cast his eyes upon him.

The vampire gently took Brittany’s arms and placed them down by her side as she continued to stare down Timothy, to stare down his prey. Timothy knew his life was in danger. Fight or flight kicked in, but with his wife also in trouble, he couldn’t escape. He had no choice but to fight. He lunged at the much smaller Carlos.

With supernatural quickness and strength, Carlos caught the pouncing Timothy by the neck with his hand. He then lifted him up with one arm, rising his shoes about two feet off the ground. Timothy’s eyes widened at shock as he realized the might of this beast. Carlos angrily threw Timothy over the granite kitchen island, causing him to smash the stools on the other side. With equal quickness, Carlos leapt over the island and feasted on Timothy’s neck. Quickly and efficiently, he drained the attorney of blood and life force. The vampire felt his own strength grow with each ounce.

Brittany’s kiss with Carlos had exchanged some bodily fluids between them. Even some of Carlos’ saliva in her mouth was enough to keep her much deeper under his spell than Timothy had been. However, this was her beloved husband on the ground, being attacked by this stranger. She slowly moved over to the counter and peered over to see what was happening.

“Timothy?” she said quietly, causing Carlos to stop feeding and turn his attention to her.

His mouth showing only trickles of blood (he had spent years learning how to eat cleanly), he rose from his victim. Brittany’s eyes were stuck on her lifeless husband on the kitchen floor. Carlos looked at her as he moved slowly to her. He heard her breathing get quicker as he got closer. She had a look on her, like she was asking him to fuck her right now but did not have the courage to say anything. He had seen that look many times. Slowly, Carlos circled her, getting behind her, grinding his hard cock in his pants along her ass. "He was your husband, but he wasn’t your Master, was he?"

"No." Brittany said softly and immediately Carlos dropped his pants. Brittany was in heat and followed, pulling her skirt down along her knees. Instantly, she was bent over the counter and getting rammed by his vampiric cock in her tight pussy.

"Harder! Fuck me Harder!" Brittany begged him, speaking in a way she never had. "Oh! My! God!" she repeated with every thrust he pushed. Her hands knocking over things on the counter as he thrusted.

"Yesss my slave!" Carlos said, fucking her with all his might, grunting like a wild animal,. Brittany wrapped her arms around his waist encouraging him go even harder.

Carlos turned the married nutritionist around and she quickly stepped out her skirt. He picked her up like she was a feather, Brittany let out a loud yelp, and sat her on his rigid cock as he really started fucking her. Brittany was bouncing on his cock up and down, her shirt pulled up to reveal her tits. Their chests sliding along each other as she rose and fell on his cock.

Brittany looked him dead in the eyes and move in for a passionate sloppy kiss, not noticing or caring about the bits of Timothy’s blood. Carlos kept his fast fucking motion as he returned her kiss. They tongues were dancing and exploring each other's mouths.

Brittany pulled away and kept screaming, "Yassss!! Give it to me! FUCK ME MASTER!"

Carlos pulled her into his cock as he thrusted in, as he lets out some powerful grunts, BAM! Brittany let out whimper and moan as she bounced off his hips, before she could escape the full length of his cock, Carlos pulled her back in again and with even more force. BAM! BAM! BAM

Brittany was beyond her limits, she was dead weight barely able to keep herself on him as she flopped around, obsessively thanking and begging creature who had just killed her husband.

Finally Carlos lifted her off his cock and set her down on her knees. Then aggressively grabbed her head and plunged his cock into her mouth. Brittany had never sucked a cock before, but she quickly got up to speed as she was getting used to her new Master’s cock. It began to slide inside her mouth easily as she began gulping it in with each thrust. Saliva was running down chin and onto her chest.

"Yes my pet!" Carlos screamed, as pulled his glistening cock out her mouth. He held his cock by the base slapping Brittany side to side until...

"Uhhhhnnnggg!" Carlos's wailed, as he shot several thick stream of creamy white cum onto Brittany's face.

Carlos brought Brittany's face back in and immediately, she knew what to do. Her succulent lips instantly wrapped around his cock’s head and began sucking the remaining juices out and around his cock. Carlos knew full well that his essence was going to give him full and utter control of this beautiful woman.

When she was finally finished, he looked down at her. “What do you do for work?” he asked. He noticed his English was much better after consuming Timothy’s blood. Little things like that always intrigued him, even after 150 or more years of being a vampire.

“I’m a nutritionist” she answered him as she lovingly caressed his leg, still on her knees.

Carlos laughed, as he briefly wondered what the nutritional value of a vampire’s cum was. “Where do you work?”

“Baylor Specialty Hospital, here in North Dallas” she answered. Her heart jumped as her Master nodded approvingly.

“Can you get me to the coroner?” he asked, as he began the plan to dispose of Timothy without alerting the authorities. The coroner would become his human slave, just as Brittany would. There was some work ahead of him, but for what began as a cold hungry night, this unexpected delivery had drastically improved Carlos’ outlook here in North Dallas.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, kevaaronday!

For @kevaaronday. I tried to use all the tropes you liked, though I played a bit with the coffee shop!AU request. It ended up being pretty long, but I hope it pleases. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Read On AO3

*****

Food, Drinks, and Pings

Stiles just wanted to clear things up—he did not work for Hale Corp, and he certainly did not work for said company’s inhouse café, The Family Bean. He was a writer, who just so happened to have been roped into the gig because he was best friends with the soulmate-fiancée of the best friend of one of the sons of the company’s owners.

See, one of Stiles’ best friends from high school was Erica Reyes, blonde, vivacious, and both crazy and powerful enough to castrate someone with her fingernails. She might look like she just stepped off the catwalk, with her hourglass figure, fluffy hair, and red lips, but she had a knack for business that led to a scholarship at a reputable business school. Stiles, on the other hand, took to writing like a duck to water, thanks to his overactive imagination and ability to turn a phrase. He could write anything and so he did—news pieces, articles, blogs, reviews, as well as a modestly famous soulmate series published under a pseudonym.

Erica’s soon-to-be husband and soulmate was Vernon Boyd III, a tall, dark, and delicious drink of chocolate, who was so fit he could bench press a baby elephant without breaking a sweat. He was the perfect picture of seriousness and silence, that Stiles used to wonder how he functioned as Hale Corp’s Director of Operations. After getting to know him better, he realized just how smart and charismatic Boyd really was.

Boyd’s best friend from childhood was Derek Hale, one of the sons from the famous and powerful Hale Family, owners and leaders of the mass media company, Hale Corp.

Stiles knew of the Hale Family, and who didn’t? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t know the famous family of business tycoons and titans, a family so rich they could buy a person’s soul even. Nor would someone fail to hear about one of the most powerful love stories that rocked the world.

Talia Hale was the eldest child of the main branch of the Hale family and was poised to take over the world. Desmond Fitzgerald, in contrast, was the only child of elderly parents, and they lived at a shabby, squat house with no electricity, scraping by each and every day. 

Talia’s father, the late and great Everett Hale, had visited the local community college as part of their charity program. Talia had tagged along, nineteen and already learning the ropes, and had tripped over the custodian who had been on his hands and knees straightening the welcome carpet.

Take a guess who the janitor was.

An accidental brush of skin, the burning of a Mark, and that was it.

Talia and Desmond turned out to be soulmates, and their Marks, her howling wolf and his crescent moon, had become one of the most romantic symbols of their time.

Now, where did Stiles and The Family Bean came in, you ask?

Aside from writing, Stiles knew his way around a kitchen. His mother had passed away when he was seven, and he had grown up with a Sheriff father who only knew the basics. Stiles had to learn how to cook a meal or risk them subsisting on fried everything and endless takeout orders.

So yes, Stiles knew how a kitchen worked. The thing was, Erica didn’t, and had spent high school eating Stiles’ meals and hanging around his kitchen. Nothing soothed her viciousness and temper like one of his desserts.

So whenever Erica was close to breaking someone’s jaw and risking a lawsuit, she’d invite Stiles over and he would come and work his magic at The Family Bean. It wasn’t like it was such a hardship. The place had a gorgeous kitchen, a full pantry, and a really comfy setup with cozy booths and colorful tables and chairs. 

It wasn’t only Erica who benefited. Stiles often found inspiration at the tail end of a whisk or in between beating a dough into submission while listening to Erica’s gossip. He had come to depend on her brand of sass whenever he was suffering from writer’s block, or dealing with annoying clients, or avoiding his editor, Danny Mahealani. 

It got to the point that Erica had HR make him a permanent guest entry pass—written down for Stiles S, Food Guy—and everyone knew him by name, the security, the delivery boys, the café’s actual employees, and some of Hale Corp’s employees.

That was what he meant by his original statement: He did not work for Hale Corp or The Family Bean. He was just Erica’s food guy and personal chef. Just another title to add to personal punching bag, platonic soulmate, best friend, and partner-in-crime, among others.

Boyd was surprisingly calm about the guy constantly hanging around his soulmate. Then again, no one would choose Stiles’ skinny ass for Boyd’s lusciousness, so Stiles could understand that he wasn’t much of a threat. Erica said that Boyd knew they were a package deal, and it helped that Boyd had been won over by Stiles’ banana bread. Either way, Boyd was cool and didn’t punch Stiles in the face for his and Erica’s weird platonic love affair.

So, in the end, that was Stiles’ life—work, his Dad, Erica, and his other friends.

Then the Hales happened.

It all started on a fine Monday morning with Kira Yukimura. She was pretty and petite, and the goddess who was actually the one in charge of The Family Bean’s kitchen. She wore floral dresses with studded combat boots, and held katana wielding lessons on Saturdays and a kids’ kitchen workshop on Sundays. Stiles adored her.

So when he walked in that day—after spending the entirety of the weekend not writing, because his protagonists, Peter and Wade, were being idiots—only to hear Kira’s cries for help, he was more than happy to tag in.

“I’m not crying.” She glared at him from where she was assembling sandwich orders, her gaze as sharp as her swords.

“But you still need help,” Stiles said. He put his laptop bag in one of the employee lockers, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater, and put on an apron. “Erica wants to do lunch, but I decided to come in early.”

Kira nodded towards the window. “All right, because I got a purple ticket for you.”

Stiles jumped up. “Ooh, cool! I’ve never handled a purple ticket before!”

Kira gave him a relieved smile. “Well, today’s your lucky day. One of my employees called in sick, another is late, and I’ve got five packed tickets from different departments, three of them being rush orders, not to mention today’s purple ticket is a little too vague. I’m both swamped and stumped.”

“I’ve got your back, K.” Stiles gave her a salute and bounced over to the ticket tacked up on the holder.

Purple tickets were orders sent straight from the Wolf’s Den. It was the codename for the top floors occupied by the Hale Family and their closest associates. Boyd and Erica’s office were there, too. Stiles had only ever seen it through photos. There was a lot of security posted there, as if guarding the gates of heaven.

Anyway, purple tickets meant VVVVIP orders, note the number of ‘very’s. Kira usually handled those, but she obviously needed help now.

“Now, what do the Lords and Ladies want?” Stiles murmured to himself.

The Family Bean:

MH: hot chocolate

CC: pancakes

SHB: waffles

VHB: dirty chai

LH: anything 

“You know who’s who?” Kira called out.

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles replied. He learned about this from Erica.

MH was Matthew Hale, the firstborn son and heir to the kingdom. CC was his seven-year-old daughter, who everyone called by her nickname. SHB was five-year-old Spencer, and VHB was his mother Valerie Hale-Barone, the firstborn daughter, second eldest, and the lawyer of the family. LH was Laura Hale, the third eldest and the maverick of the family. She was the only one not directly working for Hale Corp, and was more involved their side projects.

“Purple tickets are usually like that,” Kira said, looking at him with amusement. Stiles realized he had been frowning in confusion. “Despite being insanely rich people, they’re surprisingly not very picky about what they eat. Laura, in particular, will eat anything. It’s just difficult to give them variety or find a balance between upscale and too simple.”

“And now you want me to take a crack at it?” Stiles asked.

“Sure. It’ll be in my name anyway, and I don’t mind if you go wild,” Kira said encouragingly. It made Stiles grin. Most would be horrified at handing over their precious menu to someone who wasn’t a baker, much less someone who wasn’t a legitimate employee. But Kira had always been a rebel.

Under Kira’s guidance, Stiles filled up a purple delivery bag for the Hales. The dirty chai latte was pretty straightforward, though he didn’t know how Kira usually made it, so he went with his own style. He also made a raspberry hot chocolate, strawberry cheesecake pancakes, mixed berry waffles, and, for the anything portion of the ticket, a berry breakfast parfait made of yoghurt and fruits and graham crackers.

“Tastes awesome and looks pretty as a picture too,” Kira said, nibbling on her own waffle as she sat atop the counter, swinging her legs to and fro. Stiles could see a hint of her soulmate Mark under her dress just on the outside of her thigh. “I still believe you should have been a baker rather than a writer.”

Stiles grinned as he hung up his apron. “I’m both, but one pays the bills and the other’s a hobby. It’s surprising how most people would think one’s the other.”

“Kira?” a voice called out.

Kira perked up and immediately slid off the counter. She straightened her skirt and stepped out the door of the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Derek,” she greeted.

Stiles peeked out unashamedly through the service window.

Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, DH or Derek Hale was the middle child of the family. He was the Chief Financial Officer, and was said to be shyer and quieter compared to his more unruly and flashy siblings. It made sense why he was childhood friends with Boyd. The two seemed to share a calm, quiet demeanor.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was quite handsome in an already attractive family, and every once in a while, he would get front row seats—or the view through the service window—to the man in the three-piece suit with the godly shoulder to waist to ass ratio. It was quite inspiring.

“I heard Val and the others had a purple ticket sent down,” Derek was saying to Kira. “I’m on my way up and I thought I’d bring it along and save you a trip.”

“Oh, thanks, Derek. I’ll get it from the back,” Kira replied. “How about you? Do you want anything?”

Derek thought about it. “Just a drink. Anything you want to make me.”

“So long as it’s sweet?” Kira teased, which made the man chuckle.

It was like a bulb lit up in Stiles’ head. 

He met Kira at the door when she walked back in, and it said so much about how awesome she was because she immediately said, “Yes, Stiles, you can make whatever you want. I mean, you’ve already tried your hard at the purple ticket. Might as well go all the way.”

“Thanks, K. You’re a goddess.” Stiles bounced off to the machines. He had always liked a challenge.

In the end, Stiles added his specially made ‘very merry berry frappe’ into the bag. He made sure to put it in a cup cozy to hide the purple color. He wasn’t sure if Derek would mind, but it just wouldn’t do for one of the bosses to be seen with a colorful drink. He let Kira whisk the bag away and they watched Derek exit The Family Bean.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Stiles murmured, eyeing the man’s backside.

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira giggled, clinking her extra glass of frappe against his. “And you’re teaching me the recipe by the way.”

“Not on your life.”

It took eight days before Stiles could once again visit The Family Bean. He had had a burst of inspiration following his last visit and had locked himself up in his apartment. His Dad John and his editor Danny were used to these binges, so they had taken turns visiting him to make sure he was alive and eating actual food rather than inhaling takeout, junk food, and soda. 

He had sent off the first few chapters to Danny yesterday and had then slept for about eighteen hours, before Erica had barged in to make sure he hadn’t died. She had been pissed at him last week, annoyed that she hadn’t sampled Stiles’ berry-filled menu, but she’d gotten over it and had even brought groceries before dragging Stiles to The Family Bean for some fresh air and free lunch.

And if that wasn’t enough to perk Stiles up, she and Kira proceeded to tell him how well-received his menu was.

“The kids absolutely loved it, and Laura practically licked her parfait cup clean,” Kira said as they sat around the table for lunch. She had prepared honey sesame chicken, egg rolls, and sweet potato salad. She definitely had Stiles beat when it came to savory meals.

“Valerie was surprised that her dirty chai tasted great. She wasn’t biting people’s heads off more than usual,” Erica shared. She was running her fingers idly over her soulmate Mark, the three claw marks that spanned across her forearm.

Stiles felt pleased at the compliment, but he couldn’t help sending Kira an apologetic look. He didn’t want to usurp her clients and her kitchen. 

Kira just laughed. “It’s fine. I know it’s due to your magic fingers and secret recipes. Just teach me how you do Valerie’s dirty chai and we’re good.”

“Sure thing, but it’s nothing special” Stiles said. “I did bring dessert, as thanks for letting me play around last time.”

Kira bounced on her seat. “Tomato pie?” 

“With extra bacon and jalapeños, just how you like it.” Stiles grinned and showed her the pie, making Kira squeal.

“You gals eat up. I’ll mix us up some lattes, if you want anything,” he offered.

Stiles went to the kitchen to fix up Erica’s usual iced cinnamon honey latte and Kira’s vanilla almond. He was in the middle of finishing them up when he heard voices out at the main area. He recognized Boyd’s low voice and decided to make him a cup of blond roast with soy milk. He paused when he heard unfamiliar voices and took a peek out the service window. He instantly recognized the small group that had joined Kira and Erica.

There was Boyd, who immediately sat down beside Erica and kissed her cheek. His soulmate Mark was obvious, a rose on the back of his left hand. Stiles liked their marks, very beauty and the beast.

Having come in with Boyd was Derek, who looked just as handsome as he always did in a fetching dark blue suit. With him were his younger siblings, twins Cora and Cameron Hale, the artists of the family, who made music and art, played a bevy of instruments, and also drew and painted. Stiles was only two years older than the twins, but they had more talent in their pinkies than Stiles had in his whole body.

The twins’ Marks were one of the most popular, not just because the two were celebrities, but also because they were incredibly visible. Even from a distance, Stiles could see the compass between Cora’s collarbones and the lighthouse that popped up over Cameron’s collar at the left side of his neck. 

Suddenly feeling shy, Stiles stayed in the kitchen and watched and listened.

“Nice spread, Kira. Is that for us?” Cameron asked.

“No, you Hales have your own food upstairs,” Kira said. “I heard Wild Flour Italian sent lunch over.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Jennifer Blake owns that joint. She’s been trying to get us to come over. No doubt she’ll just use it as some sort of advertisement. I’d rather take a bite of this.” She pointed at their table.

“That pie looks good,” Cameron said. “Can I have a bite?”

Stiles saw the gleam in Erica’s eye.

“Go on,” she said. “They’re good.”

Stiles watched as Erica and Kira offered the Hales a slice each. For some reason, he felt anxious to hear about how his food will be received. It had been nice to hear the rave reviews from Kira and Erica, but it was different seeing their reactions in person.

Cora let out yum-yum noises, which buoyed Stiles’ spirit. 

“Okay, that’s pretty tasty. I love the caramelized bacon.”

“Wait, is this tomato in pie? Like a tomato pie?” Cameron asked, inspecting his plate. He took a large bite.

Kira bounced on her seat in excitement. “Yes, isn’t it good?” 

“Who made this?” Derek asked. He didn’t look displeased, but he didn’t look happy either. He had a really good poker face. It might be good for business, but it was hard for Stiles to interpret. Stiles noted that he kept on eating the pie though.

“My Food Guy,” Erica said with a smug grin.

“Her Food Guy’s the one who made the berry-eautiful purple ticket that received quite the sensational reviews,” Kira added. She glanced at the service window and Stiles knew she saw him hiding there.

“The one who made my drink, too?” Derek asked.

Kira nodded. “The same one.” 

“Spence went gaga for those waffles,” Cameron said. “And Mattie couldn’t believe someone got CC to eat fruit.”

A loud ring cut through their conversation and everyone started pulling out phones to check. It was Derek’s.

“Mom’s calling. Time to go,” he said, standing up.

In reply, Cameron started shoving the rest of the pie in his mouth and also popped in a couple of egg rolls.

“Where’s the Food Guy, though?” Cora asked, head turning to the kitchen. Stiles ducked down behind the counter. “If he makes stuff like this, I wanna meet him.” 

“You can order a purple ticket if you want, but he’s not here all the time,” Erica said, and Stiles glared at her in his mind.

“He works part-time?” Derek asked.

“Not quite,” Kira said. “He’s—”

They were interrupted once more by a ringing phone, and this time Boyd spoke.

“Talia wants you all upstairs. Now.”

Stiles peeked out again. Cameron attempted to bring the entire pie tin, but settled for polishing his slice off. He then joined Cora in writing up a purple ticket order. After a moment, Derek put an order in too. The Hales left in a hurry and Stiles leaned right out of the service window just as Kira came bouncing towards it.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Boyd said, with a smirk.

Kira giggled. “Order up, Food Guy. You got a purple ticket.”

“I’m so proud.” Erica mockingly wiped a tear away. “Stiles, my Food Guy, charming the Hales off through the power of food.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” Stiles glared, ducking back into the kitchen.

At the last minute, he reached out and grabbed the purple ticket from Kira, ignoring the others’ laughter.

Over the next three weeks, Stiles prepared four more purple tickets. According to Kira, his drinks and desserts had become quite attractive to the Hales, both because of the taste and the mystery.

“At this point, they don’t even want me handling the tickets. They always ask if The Food Guy is around before they send their orders down,” Kira said. This time, she was the one helping Stiles prepare and pack. 

The Wolf’s Den was going to be holding meetings nonstop, so Stiles had to prepare a variety of drinks and snacks. It would have been easy if they had simple requests, but the Hales were a mix of eclectic and frustrating.

“I’m glad you’re cool about this, but the Hales are bound to find out that the one making all their desserts isn’t even an employee,” Stiles said, as he added an extra shot of syrup in Laura’s honey and milk iced coffee. Just like her usual orders, she had asked for ‘any drink that’s sweet’ which was such a large ballpark that Stiles wanted to clock someone over the head, maybe her.

“I’m more surprised that you keep making these for free,” Kira said.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a challenge, and I like challenges.”

“Really, just for the challenge?” Kira asked. “Stiles, Valerie fell in love with your version of her dirty chai. I did it the exact same way you did, but she insists that it tastes different. Same with Cameron’s favorite spiced coconut coffee. Same with all the desserts you made for the kids…”

Her face turned serious. “Don’t you think there’s more to this? Don’t you think it’s a ping—”

“It’s just for fun, Kira. It’s nothing,” Stiles said, heart rabbiting in his chest. He pushed it down firmly. “Plus, it’s surprisingly inspiring for my stories. Right now, I’m writing a new story for my spy series and I’m trying to solve this thing going on between James and Quentin.”

Kira’s face fell but she smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “Ah, well. Whatever you say, Food Guy. I’m just happy I get free labor out of it.”

“So you’re the Food Guy?”

The two of them jumped up in surprise and they turned around to see that someone had come in through the kitchen doors.

“Nathan, hello!” Kira greeted. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

Nathaniel Hale was the youngest of the brood at nineteen, and with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was quite the heartthrob in an already beautiful family. If that wasn’t enough, he was an athlete and a rising star in soccer.

Stiles didn’t really care at the moment, too busy wondering if the kid had heard what Kira had been saying.

Nathan leaned against the counter. “Everyone was arguing over who was going to pick up the ticket this time. I walked out while Laura was arm wrestling with Cam.”

Kira laughed while Stiles looked away, suddenly awkward.

“Uh, that’s cool and all, but I’m not remotely interesting enough to warrant an arm wrestle.”

Nathan shrugged. “Your stuff tastes amazing.” He smiled at Kira. “No offense, Kira. You’re still queen. But you… you’re interesting.” He gave Stiles a look. “You know, I’ve been ordering the same caramel vanilla iced coffee from The Family Bean for years now. You made it once and now everything else tastes different.”

Stiles couldn’t help flinching. Oh yeah. Nathan had definitely heard Kira.

But Nathan turned to Kira, breaking the stare. “Anyway, is the ticket ready? Can I take it up?”

Kira smiled and handed over the bag. “You just want to lord your victory over the others.”

“Of course. That’s what having siblings is all about.” Nathan scoffed, but grinned. “Anyway, thanks.” 

Kira smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

Stiles watched Nathan leave and rubbed his left shoulder. He had a weird feeling about all this.

A single touch was all it took to find someone’s soulmate. However, people couldn’t just go around touching one another. Some did, but there were laws against touching people without their consent. So Nature, in all its wisdom, gave people the capability to locate their soulmates by following a trail.

The best trail was through family members. Take for example one other famous Hale love story, that of Valerie. Her husband, the Italian magnate Piero Barone, was from a family of vintners. During Talia and Desmond’s trip to Italy, they met Piero at a wine tasting event and immediately felt what Mark experts called a ‘ping,’ a connection between them that hinted at the identity of Piero’s soulmate. Piero followed the Hales to America, met the family—all of which gave off similar pings—was finally allowed a Touch Test with Valerie, and the rest was history.

There were other kinds of trails, like what happened between Boyd and Erica. They both attended the same university, though Boyd had graduated several years earlier. However, even without knowing Boyd, Erica inadvertently joined the same groups and organizations that he had, and even lived at the same apartment that he had rented when he had been a student. Then after Erica graduated, she decided to take a year off to travel. Months later, when Boyd went on sabbatical, he ended up following almost the exact same itinerary. They finally met by chance during an alumni event and got to talking, which revealed all of the things they had in common. Before the event was even halfway through, they had done a Touch Test and found their match.

Stiles’ favorite trail story was of his parents’. John and Claudia met when they were children. Having no siblings, they didn’t have the benefit of a family trail, and being young meant there weren’t a lot of experiences that could link them. However, they had always known there was something special about one another. They grew up together, grew apart, and met later on in life. They still didn’t have the same life experiences—she was a librarian, he was a deputy—but the moment they saw one another again, they just knew.

Sometimes people just knew.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were serving twink in the menu.”

Ordinarily, that comment would have had Stiles lashing out with his sharp tongue, but upon looking up, he hesitated. First of all, the other person was clearly drunk and it was only, Stiles checked his watch, three-forty-seven in the afternoon. Second, the other person was none other than the infamous Peter Hale, Talia’s younger brother.

The eternal bachelor, he was called, well known for his many dalliances and relationships. He was also the Hale with the most well-known Mark, not because it was at a visible spot, but mostly because he tended to flaunt the large image of a bird in flight that was across his chest via his tendency of wearing unbuttoned shirts.

In Stiles’ opinion, Peter reminded him of one of his book characters—the rich and powerful Anthony, who, underneath all the bravado, was desperately looking for his soulmate, only to find it in the fair-haired, gentle-hearted Steven, who wouldn’t take his crap. He wondered who Peter’s soulmate was.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Uncle, come back here!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jogging over to them, looking both pissed and worried at the man leaning against The Family Bean’s pristine counter.

Peter ignored him. “Oh, lay off, Derek. I want a drink, and this twink is going to make me one.”

Derek turned to Stiles. “Peter, do not call—” He paused, dark eyes widening.

Stiles felt his heart jerk in his chest and his left shoulder burn. He felt like he had been hit in the head, so did Derek going by his gaping.

Peter suddenly tilted sideways, interrupting their stare down. Neither Stiles nor Derek were able to catch the man before he ended up sprawled across the counter. The sight of him had Stiles dredging up some semblance of control. He sighed.

“You are very rude, and also very drunk, but because I feel sorry for you, Mr. Hale, I’ll make you a free drink.”

Derek let out a gurgle and then a cough, obviously holding back laughter. Peter propped himself up on wobbly elbows. 

“You feel sorry for me? Don’t you know who I am, kid?”

Stiles was both annoyed by Peter and buoyed by Derek’s reaction. It was probably what sharpened his tongue.

“You’re Talia Hale’s younger brother, but between the supposed—ahh, what was it—Big Bad Wolf of Media and this so-called twink, I’m not the one nursing a hangover at this time of the afternoon.”

Stiles shook his head and walked off, ignoring Peter’s angry, garbled words and the sudden chuckle from Derek. The latter made Stiles’ shoulder ache.

Stiles ignored that and prepared a quick takeout bag. He could hear Peter and Derek arguing out on the main area. It was the work of minutes to prepare a quick smoothie and throw in some crackers and fruits. He walked back out and handed the bag to Derek, but then quickly tucked his hands to himself. The other man’s piercing stare was making him sweat.

Peter grabbed his drink and took a gulp of the smoothie, before asking, “What’s your name, kid?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Not even a thank you. How rude. 

“Not a kid, and there’s no need to know my name since you’re just going to forget it.”

Peter smirked lasciviously. “Oh, that mouth on you.”

“I’m also not into geriatrics,” Stiles was quick to bite back.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Geria—”

Derek suddenly burst into laughter and the sound of it seemed to fill Stiles’ heart and mind, making his face flush and his body warm. Derek smiled at him and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away. He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m happy to help. I’ll tell Kira you guys dropped by. See you around.” He glanced at Peter. “Not you. Drop dead.” He stepped back.

“Wait!” Derek lurched forward, startling Stiles and also Peter, who, true to Stiles’ words, slid off the counter to the floor. They ignored him.

Derek leaned forward over the counter. “I’m sorry if I’m forward, but are you—”

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” 

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring Derek’s calls and Peter’s drunken warbling. He leaned against the door and slid down until he could curl up into a ball. He placed a hand over his burning shoulder.

Sometimes people just knew.

Stiles was tempted to stay away from The Family Bean after that. He really wanted to. But it was hard to stay away.

Even harder to stay away from a ping.

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to let that slip away.

Still, it was hard to face up to it and admit that he had a soulmate.

So for the next two weeks, Stiles stayed away from the front of house, always hiding in the safety of the kitchen. He kept on making purple tickets whenever they came, but he avoided coming out for any reason, especially after Derek started coming by nearly every day. Sometimes he even brought his work over just so that he could stay as long as possible.

It confused Kira and Erica, but they assumed Derek just liked the food. The other Hales also started coming by and many times, Stiles could hear them asking Derek why he was hanging around The Family Bean instead of working in his office. Always, Derek kept mum.

Because as it turned out, Derek hadn’t told anyone about the ping.

In fact, Stiles had a feeling that the only person in the Hale family who knew was Nathan. Maybe because he had already been suspicious of it. Out of all the Hales, he was the only one who didn’t ask Derek about why he kept hanging around the café.

The other one who knew was Boyd.

Derek had been called to a meeting one day, so Stiles had felt it safe to come out and work at one of the booths. He had already fallen so far behind on his writing commitments. After a few minutes, Boyd had dropped by and had joined him. Stiles knew he was typing gibberish on his laptop, but he kept on as an excuse not to look at Boyd, who was looking at him intently.

Finally, he spoke, “Looking back, I guess it wasn’t just your banana bread that won me over.”

Stiles jerked, sending a series of characters across the screen.

Boyd kept on. “I always had a good feeling about you from Erica’s stories, but when we met, that was definitely a ping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Does Erica know?”

Boyd shook his head. “I love her, but Erica would have thrown a party if she knew.”

Stiles sighed, both in relief and in trepidation for the moment Erica find out.

Boyd studied him. “Derek’s a good guy, you know.”

“I know I got that impression from all the stories you and Erica had of him,” Stiles said. “I always thought it was surprising considering he could afford not to be a nice guy.”

Boyd studied him, making Stiles shift in his seat. “Is that the reason you won’t meet with him? Or do a Touch Test? Because he’s a Hale?”

Stiles almost protested, but he deflated. “…I don’t know.”

Boyd hummed under his breath. “Well, you’ve always played your cards close to the chest when it comes to soulmates, but I know you’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “But you better make it soon. Erica and the rest of the Hales are bound to figure it out.”

Stiles groaned and sank down on his seat. 

“Noted.”

The day after that, a still-conflicted Stiles was once again at The Family Bean. Kira had gone up to the Wolf’s Den to deliver the latest purple ticket, so he had to stay and man the counter. 

The door let out a little tinkle, and Stiles froze the moment he saw the woman entering the café.

He’d know Talia Hale anywhere.

Stiles almost panicked, but then he remembered that she didn’t know who he was. He took a deep breath.

“Um, good afternoon, Mrs. Hale. What can I get you?”

The woman smiled, quite warm and friendly despite her fierce reputation. “Just some tea, please. And are there any new desserts?”

It had been a moment of weakness, but Stiles had actually brought over some peanut butter stuffed cookies and added it to the purple ticket in the hopes that a certain Hale would like them. He still had a few cookies left, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer them to her.

“I smell cookies,” Talia said pointedly. “I’ll have some of those.”

Stiles gulped. “Ah, we have some peanut butter stuffed cookies. Let me get those for you.”

He swallowed his nerves and served the woman, who took a sip of tea and a bite of the cookie right there on the counter.

She smiled, studying the cookies. “Very tasty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stiles smiled politely. He turned away to leave and maybe gather his strength in the privacy of the kitchen.

“When we started hearing about The Food Guy, I admit I was quite intrigued. It’s very rare for someone to grab the attention of my entire family.”

Stiles paused and turned to her.

He should have known.

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Talia smiled, sharp and knowing. “And you, Food Guy.”

“Any reason for the visit?” Stiles asked, shifting on his feet.

“I wanted to meet you,” Talia said, taking another bite of her cookie. 

Stiles frowned. “That’s all?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“Uh, well, I…”

Talia shrugged and sipped his tea. “I don’t blame you for any misgivings you might have should you prove to be soulmates with my son. I’m well aware of the reputation of my family. My late father, Everett, embodied the might of the Hale name better than anyone. You should have seen him back in the days.”

Stiles held up his hands. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had to explain.

“It’s not that there’s a problem with Derek or your family. Being a Hale isn’t the problem… not entirely…” he hesitated, but then plunged on, urged by the ping he could feel inside him and the desire to make someone understand. “My mom passed away when I was seven. She was soulmates with my father. He was—I was—we were never the same after.”

A heavy silence fell, and Stiles was both nervous and intrigued. Talia’s face changed. Something in her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips.

“Forgive my sudden melancholy, but I was just reminded of something.” She sipped her tea. “I was reminded of my youth. My father, Peter, and I had never been the same after mother walked away.”

“Walked away?” Stiles was taken aback. It was rare to hear any mention of Talia’s mother, but everyone had chalked it up to grief at her passing. “But you all said she died—”

Talia interrupted him delicately. “People think of Marks as the be all and end all where the only answer is yes. But even soulmates are a choice…”

“Desmond grew up without a penny to his name, so he rejected me as he could only see himself as an embarrassment to the Hale family. My opinionated father had, unfortunately, been a contributing factor to that line of thinking. I grew up with a rather jaded view of Marks and pings, and I had seen his rejection as a challenge and not a privilege. Desmond and I, our story had been tempestuous, quite unlike the romanticizing people had done.”

She finished the last of her tea. “If I may be allowed to request one thing, all I ask is that you make a choice so that Derek can do the same. No one in this family will certainly blame you for it.”

Talia pushed her empty cup and plate towards Stiles, and smiled. “Have a good day, Food Guy.”

Stiles watched Talia walk away.

He had some thinking to do.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried not to crush the boxes in his hands. He was nervous and his left shoulder was throbbing.

“Ready?” Kira asked him. She was carrying the other delivery boxes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied.

Kira smiled, both encouraging and proud, and nodded to the guard on duty. The man held open the double doors for them, and Stiles was instantly met with a wall of sound.

“Purple ticket delivery,” Kira called out, leading Stiles inside.

The office was spacious, as it should be if it was going to accommodate all of the Hales, and all of them were there. There was a long table at one end where Talia, Matthew, and Boyd were talking and laughing. Desmond was on one couch, talking to Piero and Erica. Laura and Cora were seated on armchairs and were arguing loudly about something. Peter was egging them on. CC and Spencer, were seated in front of a television at a kids’ play area set up in the corner. Cameron was with them, all of them singing along to whatever cartoon was playing. Derek, Valerie, and Nathan were huddled around a table, looking at blueprints.

“Oh, yes! The food’s here!” Cameron cheered, which sent the children shouting as well.

Kira navigated the area like a champ, while Stiles slowly shuffled after. “You guys ordered a lot. I had to ask for help. This is Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s head suddenly jolted in his direction, nor Talia’s proud smile, nor Erica’s sudden screech of “Stiles!” which had everyone else turning their way. Stiles winced. He was going to get his ass kicked later for not telling Erica about this.

“Well, well…” Peter grinned. “Hello there, twink.”

Stiles shuddered. “Still not into creepy old geezers.”

“Oh, wait, wait! Is he the guy who called you a geriatric?” Laura asked, before shrieking in laughter.

“And the one who said Peter should drop dead,” Cora added, cackling. 

Laughter rang around over Peter’s protests, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He felt warm all over, like the pings going off in his head were doubly delighted at the Hales. He glanced at Derek, who was smiling warmly.

Stiles winced when he caught Erica’s gaze though. She looked between him and Derek and her eyes widened. But Boyd was suddenly there, hand over her mouth and whispering to her.

Stiles helped Kira take out all of the food and the ravenous Hales were quickly upon them.

“Food Guy’s stuff tastes awesome,” Nathan said, licking his cupcake’s icing. He waggled knowing eyebrows at Stiles, who bit back a grin. Cheeky kid.

“Please pass our compliments to the chef, Kira,” Desmond said, reaching for his drink.

Kira giggled. “You can thank him yourself.” She waved at Stiles with a flourish.

Stiles felt a little like a deer in headlights when all their gazes alighted on him.

“You’re Food Guy?” and other iterations of the exclamation rang around the room.

Stiles flushed. “I’m glad to hear you all like what I’ve been making.”

“Oh, wow! How wonderful!” Piero piped up. “I haven’t felt a ping in such a long time. How nostalgic, don’t you think, dear?” He turned to Valerie.

“That’s a ping?” Matthew asked, confused, before his face cleared and he rubbed his chest. “Oh, hell, this is a ping.”

“Is that the tingly feeling here, Uncle Mattie?” Spencer asked, pointing at his tummy.

Erica finally managed to get out from under Boyd. “Stiles, did you ping with Derek? Is that why you’ve both been hanging around The Family Bean? You’ve both been pining over each other!”

Stiles groaned, while gasps and shouts suddenly rang around the room.

Kira sighed. “Way to ruin it, Erica.”

“You mean I was pinged through a tomato pie?” Cameron was asking, wide-eyed. 

Cora started laughing. “Oh my god! Uncle Peter flirted with Derek’s soulmate!”

“That’s Uncle Derek’s soulmate?” CC asked.

“Yes, he is.” Nathan looked like he was immensely enjoying all this, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was a little shit.

Derek stepped towards Stiles. His face was a little red, but he was smiling and Stiles thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen.

“My family’s a mess. Please ignore them,” Derek said, ignoring the protests from his siblings.

Stiles chuckled. “At least they keep things interesting. It’s just me, my Dad, and her.” He jerked a thumb at Erica.

“Oh, fu—dge you!” Erica said, glancing at the kids. She turned to Boyd. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “I was giving him space to process things.”

Stiles ignored them and turned to Derek. He only had one chance to do this.

“Ah, sorry, it took a while. I was figuring stuff out, but I thought we should get to know one another first.”

“Of course,” Derek said immediately. He reached out a hand. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced at Talia, who was whispering to her husband. She winked at Stiles.

“Soulmates are a choice.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. He could feel his Mark tingling in anticipation.

“Me too, Derek.”

He reached out and took his hand.