#Coffee connoisseur I get I also just love the taste and like to try around and am picky but addiction is v different

[zoekrystall]

Oh also everyone be proud of me I stopped drinking much coffee + daily. If then way less than prior and it doesn't happen a lot. I will prob never say no to cups esp when other than standard/simple (aka cappuccino, macchiato, etc. esp w dif flavor) but it's smth when my tolerance significantly lessens and I don't get withdrawal headaches anymore (which was a huge reason I made cups even if no desire bc trust me they're awful). Caffeine does partially work for me but reminding myself that even if it works today it needs time to kick in so once I feel tired is it better to just let sleepiness win helps.

I will nonetheless if circumstances ever allow get one of those fancy machines bc I would love to recreate the stuff you get in shops easily + switch to beans. Plus many also make hot chocolate which is so much tastier than cocoa imo. I hate being limited at home.

[saiyansweetheart45]

Ideas for the Coffee Shop AU

Hey, everyone! Later this month and throughout December, I'll be releasing the first chapters of my newest story idea! But for now, here's the layout for this lovely (if I do say so myself) new idea. I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

The Full Moon Brew Coffee Shop is more than just a place to get a cup of coffee. It’s a haven that offers a break from the day-to-day chaos in the city of Calatonia, presided over by one Koala Connoisseur, Buster Moon, a coffee enthusiast as well as a master showman. The Full Moon Brew is a nook of coziness and even creativity. With the air teeming with coffee and creative encouragement, it’s no wonder the place hosts such an eclectic bunch.

Up and coming rocker Ash goes there at least twice a week to get her caffeine fix, but also likes the atmosphere because it helps inspire her songwriting.

Sweet-obsessed and sass-filled Nooshy likes to busk down the road (before meeting the rest of the gang) for extra pocket money to afford her cream and sugar-loaded coffees. And it combines the two things she loves: dancing and coffee. She also enters the occasional contest held at the shop.

Then there’s introverted British newcomer Johnny who spends anywhere from half an hour to sometimes even half the day, at the place, ordering at least three cups of coffee, all while reading or writing songs as well. It’s like a haven in the new city he's moved with his family to following his dad and uncle’s being transferred for a job. Occasionally, on their lunch break, the three older gorillas stop in to get a little bite of the pastries the place offers and of course an espresso-loaded cup or two. Each. They don’t ever stick around long, but they can see why the youngest member of their clan loves the place so much.

Then, we have the equally shy Meena, whose small family business supplies the baked goods to the coffee shop, and Meena occasionally visits both to subtly network for her family’s business, and to try to become more social, since coffee shops are great for being both social and withdrawn. And she loves their smoothies, and is trying to acquire a taste for coffee, but can’t quite do it.

Enter Rosita, the on-the-go mother that does it all, but always makes some time to get a little pick-me-up for herself and do a bit of work to help her husband, for whom she always orders a special cappuccino before she heads to pick up their extensive brood of piglets.

The tea-loving theater legend Nana Noodleman happens to be one of the top investors for Buster’s shop. The place is small but makes a pretty profit, what with having fresh, homemade treats, along with beverages one can’t get just anywhere. And Buster always makes sure to keep a steady supply of fine teas at the ready for Nana. She even has a special table with a high-backed purple velvet chair by the window just beside the patio overlooking the ocean.

The excitable bundle of Piggy Power Gunter occasionally visits the shop, drawn by the musical selection and the open mic nights. Though by his own admission, he comes less for the singing and more for the dancing. And of course, a caffeine fix here and there is needed for such dedicated dancing.

Another new kid enters. Meet Ryan Collins, a student in a nearby dance academy, who happens upon the coffee shop by complete coincidence. He finds that while he doesn’t much care for coffee, he enjoys the chill atmosphere, a welcome reprieve after his hectic classes under the iron fist of Klaus Kickenklober. Plus, who doesn’t occasionally love a Toasted Vanilla or Hazelnut Steamer?

Two new faces also enter this colorful Coffee shop mix, we have the two rich kids Eddie and Porsha, both of whom are working their first jobs ever under the watchful eye of Miss Crawly. Don’t let her age and dottiness fool you, the old Lizard Lady is a brewing MASTER.

Both prove straight away to be a bit…unskilled to say the least, but they slowly start to adapt, with Porsha even scoring huge brownie points when she creates a new drink for the menu.

And finally, the dutiful, efficient, and long-suffering Suki Lane occasionally stops by the shop to get coffee for herself, but also (reluctantly) for her image-obsessed boss who doesn’t like coffee but is quick to associate himself when the little shop starts to gain more attention.

Suki herself may not particularly like Buster, but she does like the coffee. And she does secretly loathe Crystal's dismissal of it. And dismiss it he does. At least until it starts to gain more popularity, at which point he tries to buy it out. But that meeting goes as well as you'd expect.

This version of Buster has a few slightly different traits; poised, knows his worth, and won't sell himself out for a few beans. He knows why Crystal wants the business and is having none of it. First off, because he knows the price Crystal offered is insulting given the profit the place brings in. Second, and more importantly, because his father bought the property, had the building built with his own money, and personally let Buster design the place, the menu, everything. This place is a symbol of everything his dad worked for and gave him. All the while the man was hiding a terminal illness. This last project was a distraction from the inevitable. And Buster will NOT trivialize that sacrifice.

[zorilleerrant]

Sorry to keep flooding your ask box but the coffee headcanon refuses to leave me. I haven't tried very hard either but that's neither here nor there.

I'm also now imagining Alfred and Luke getting together for coffee/tea meetings as a way of enjoying a drink with a fellow connoisseur. Please share with me your headcanon about Kate or Barbara and coffee?

(Luke has similar opinions on coffee to his dad but, notably, Not the exact same ones. in ways that sometimes distress Lucius. but that is also a long post.)

okay but see now you said it and now I'm thinking of Kate and Babs getting together for coffee and it's super cute and sweet. I think they hang out all the time anyway, especially with the Batfam being kind of a boys' club even when they try not to be pushy about it. so getting coffee together? yes absolutely.

Babs I think doesn't really care about coffee. like she needs the caffeine don't get me wrong, but it all just tastes like coffee to her? the first time she heard someone talk about flavors in the coffee she assumed they meant vanilla and hazelnut, not... just coffee. it all tastes exactly the same! so she trusts the opinions of her friends, which is to say, since she doesn't care, she's happy to let them care for her. it feels nice to get presents, and they like it when she says she likes the coffee. which she does! just not more than any other coffee she's ever tasted. (as long as it's not gritty)

so she gets a lot of coffee explanations and samplers from Alysia, who genuinely adores coffee, but mostly in the sense of what can she mix it into. she's made her own coffee ice cream, candies, cakes and cookies, and even tie-dyed shirts. she likes a lot of mixed drinks, but not complicated ones, like mochas, which she does by dropping a shot of espresso into extremely rich hot chocolate. so Babs ends up with most of her coffee knowledge applied through that lens, altho she picks up words from Luke and Dick sometimes.

Babs really enjoys it when someone brings her coffee. not only does she forget about it and let it get cold a lot, but also the number of buttons to press and things to move around feels a lot like programming, so it keeps nagging at her what she should be doing as Oracle. and she really loves having a chat over coffee, when she can get past that part. sipping a nice drink - any drink, coffee's just the most socially probably - with friends is relaxing and comforting. and she really needs the caffeine.

Kate is the opposite. she really really hates the taste of coffee. oh, she'll drink it, she's had to drink worse and she's over it, she can choke it down when she needs to. she prefers cheaply roasted stuff because it seems like a waste to be careful about it when she hates the flavor anyway, so she'll often drink the burned batches. they all taste burned to her anyway. but she hates the taste of energy drinks even more, and more than one bottle of soda starts to make her feel sick from the pure sugar and carbonation.

which is not to say she hates sugar. actually, she really loves the super sugary froufrou drinks she has to constantly post on social media to maintain her airheaded socialite persona. often sipping at them and winking. it's just that the leftover military bravado makes her feel really self-conscious when she thinks about that. she knows it's ridiculous! she has no problems being openly queer, and she even talks openly with her family about liking jewelry and dresses. she takes the girls out bonding with mani-pedis! she's not embarrassed to like girly things! except she is, this time.

so she tells the Bats she just does it for the ruse, like Bruce, but she doesn't hate them as much as he does, so she's happier going out on coffee dates and things like that. sometimes, on dates, she'll play up the butch angle, because the ladies like it, or at least a lot of the ones who stroke her arms and pet her short hair, and she'll just drink a plain espresso shot and pretend she loves it. but if they blush and admit they want a fancy drink, she'll get one too, not just to make them feel better, but admitting she likes them best. at home, she always has sweet drinks. her partners and sisters see her drink them, but she tries to hide them from her dad.

but the beauty of Babs letting other people pick her drinks and Kate have A Look she's going for (Babs helpfully photographs her while blowing at her hair to make it sway) means they can always get the special, which is a fun bonding element they don't realize is Their Thing until they've been doing it for most of a year. their favorite coffee shop notices, tho, and gives them free specials to celebrate on their anniversary. (they have to explain they're not dating.) so they start doing it sometimes when they go out for dinner together, too, even with the rest of the family, even without coffee.

[huntrolli]

Happy bones coffee nyc

#Happy bones coffee nyc plus

It's a win win, you get an amazing coffee and you support an awesome place. Happy Bones also serves a selection of awesome sweets to go with your drinks! Make sure to try Underwest Doughnuts. With amazing, unique and delicious flavors you won't be disappointed and your taste buds will thank you.įinally, another great thing about Happy Bones is that their prices are not bad for NYC! I have seen way higher prices for a drink that does not taste even half as good. I also love supporting local and small business. It was perfectly chocolatey, made with steamed milk and melts in your mouth! A friend who is a hot coca connoisseur told me its one of her favorites she has had in the city so far (and thats a big deal). Hot Coca: For all you non coffee drinkers out there (I used to be one!) this hot coca is a must. The amount of espresso to milk ratio was good and it was hot, but not so hot you had to wait twenty minutes to drink it (i've been there too many times at other coffee shops). Latte: There are many easy ways to mess up a latte believe it or not, but thats not an issue for Happy Bones. he honey lavender latte is a special treat.Cappuccino: I have actually gone to Happy Bones a few times now because I really enjoyed how good the cappuccino was! It’s very smooth, rich and kept leaving me wanting more (hence why I went back) This Tribeca spot is owned by actor Hugh Jackman and founded with a big heart: 100% of the profits go to the Laughing Man Foundation, which Jackman created to support educational programs, community development, and social entrepreneurs around the world. Laughing Man Coffee Co.: 184 Duane St., Manhattan Top it off with some trendy merchandise and high-quality espresso, and you have the perfect pick-me-up while touring downtown. Here, you’ll find a coffee menu of just the basics, and an industrial space with a few tables. This shop in Little Italy may be minimal, but it's definitely a must-visit when in town. There's also comfy seating to lounge out on as you sip. This trendy cafe-slash-event space serves up deliciously unique concoctions using their signature coffee blends. Chillhouse: 149 Essex St., ManhattanĬhillhouse in the Lower East Side prides itself on self care, with wellness-based drinks and an in-house nail salon and massages. If that's not enough to satisfy your sweet tooth, the towering shaved ice bowls should do the trick. Fun flavors include marshmallow, red velvet, and taro. Ask for a latte with foam art, and you’ll get an adorable bunny design atop your beverage. Sweet Moment in Chinatown is practically made for Instagram. Flush with natural light and adorned in greenery, Devoción offers a pleasant retreat from the streets of Brooklyn. While there are locations throughout Manhattan and Brooklyn, the Williamsburg branch is a personal favorite. Any coffee place that opens at 7:30am is a friend of ours A quick walk away from the office, Happy Bones is the perfect pick-me-up before a midday meeting.

#Happy bones coffee nyc plus

Devoción Café: 69 Grand St., Brooklynĭevoción is a sustainable cafe with Colombian roots and delicious brews. They have a stylish space and great coffee plus the banana bread (above) is seriously delish It’s a tiny spot so you might have a little trouble getting a seat, but hey, that’s NYC living for ya Happy Bones. Try crafty espresso drinks like the Paris Fog latte (made with Earl Gray tea and lavender). With a library-like interior and comfy leather seating, Ground Central is a great spot to decompress after a long stretch of sightseeing. There are several locations around Manhattan (including the Financial District and Midtown), and each comes with unique murals that portray the Empire State. Ground Central is wholeheartedly devoted to its New York theme. Ground Central Coffee: 2 Coenties Slip, Manhattan Unsurprisingly, they also make a great flat white. Situated in the middle of all the Williamsburg action, Sweatshop is near an abundance of shops and restaurants. With a mural out front that declares “Don’t Look for Love, Look for Coffee," this Australian espresso bar is the epitome of Brooklyn's trendy coffee culture. Sweatshop: 232 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn This gorgeous space drips with arrangements and plants, and they serve beautifully crafted flower lattes (think rose and lavender) adorned with actual petals. European style is totally apparent with their little matching blue and white tableware. French food fills this beautiful little joint. Located in Midtown East, Remi Flower & Coffee is less of a coffee shop set within a floral paradise. Maman is easily one of the best coffee shops in NYC. Remi Flower & Coffee: 906 2nd Ave, Manhattan

[classickook]

coffee for two | stephen strange

pariring: surgeon!stephen strange x fem!reader

summary: doctor stephen strange takes a sudden interest in the new barista on the first floor of the hospital.

warnings: none just fluff!

word count: 0.9k

a/n: this idea has been floating around in my head all day so here it is! my little contribution to neurosurgeon strange content <3

doctor stephen strange had never been a major coffee connoisseur nor had he ever made it a part of his daily routine to stop at a coffee shop every morning for an overpriced cup of simple coffee that he could easily get from the break room, let alone something as sugary sweet and full of milk that he’s seen the nurses upstairs carrying in trays and passing out to the others. but once he caught a glimpse of the new barista behind the counter, he thought he would give the overpriced coffee a try just to get a closer look at the pretty little thing with the brilliant smile and bright eyes.

as he approached the counter, you quickly perked up and offered a kind smile as if you haven’t caught wind of his less than pleasant personality and arrogant air about him that the other employees continuously gossiped about.

“good morning!” you greeted brightly. “what can i get for you today?”

he couldn’t help but return your smile, too lovely and contagious to be ignored. “what do you recommend?”

“well, that all depends on whether you lean more towards sweet or bitter, but personally, i usually go for the brown sugar shaken espresso.”

“great, i’ll get one of those and an iced americano.”

“excellent choice,” you said with a nod. “i’ll get that started for you. what’s the name for your order?”

“it’s strange.”

you had a bewildered look upon your face as you pondered his statement. “surely it’s not that strange of a name. i’ve heard just about everything.”

he choked back a laugh at the misunderstanding, having heard it more times than he could count. “no, sweetheart,” he said gently. “my name is strange. doctor strange.”

your eyes widened. “oh, my mistake! sorry about that,” you said, gaze lowering to the two cups in your hand as you wrote out his name, embarrassment written all over your features.

“it’s all right. happens all the time,” he said, handing you his black amex card and watching as you swiped it through the machine and typed away on the screen before passing it back to him, your fingers lightly brushing against his and sending a jolt of warmth through him that felt like he had been dipped in sunlight.

he returned the card to his wallet and accepted the iced americano from you, leaving the other drink on the counter. “have a nice day,” he said pleasantly and then glanced down at your name tag, “y/n,” he added, loving how the syllables tasted on his tongue, before making his way back to the stairwell that led to the clinical floor.

“wait,” you called out. “you forgot your other drink.”

he turned back to you, walking backwards while keeping his eyes on you. “that one’s for you, sweetheart,” and shot you a wink, feeling a wave of pleasure snake through him at seeing the way your face lit up in pure surprise and elation at his unexpected gift.

and so the routine continued, every day for two weeks, he stopped by the little coffee shop to place his usual order: an iced americano for him and a brown sugar shaken espresso for you.

in that amount of time, he had learned that you had the sweetest disposition and a killer sense of humor, easily keeping up with him and his wry jokes. he also learned that you were still in college, barely making ends meet as you were in the final stretch of earning your master’s degree, working early shifts during the day that nobody else wanted and taking classes at night.

“what time do you get off?” he asked you one morning.

you seemed unfazed by the sudden inquiry, undoubtedly used to his daily questions by now. “five o’clock.”

“perfect. i’ll be done with my rounds by then. why don’t i take you to dinner?”

“oh,” was all you said.

he chuckled. “is that all right? or would you rather get a coffee? preferably one that you didn’t have to make,” he added.

a crease formed between your brows, your face twisted in confusion. “really? are you sure?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“you just… don’t seem like the type who would go for underpaid, average-looking baristas slash college students.”

“who said you were average-looking?”

you bit your lip. “well, nobody. but… i’m not really dressed for dinner,” you said, looking down disapprovingly at your uniform.

his lips quirked up on one side. “neither am i, sweetheart,” he replied, referring to his dark blue scrubs, “but we’ll make it work. can i pick you up here once your shift is over?”

you nodded and offered him a shy smile, something he was becoming comfortably familiar with, loving how you quickly looked away before peeking up at him beneath your lashes.

god, he was already so smitten with you. how did that happen? the effect you had on him was unlike any other, so sweet and so endearing, it felt like sugary syrup had replaced the blood that ran through his veins.

“okay, doctor strange.”

“stephen is fine,” he corrected. “you can call me stephen. i’ll be back at five o’clock, okay?”

“okay,” you replied softly, “stephen.”

he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, craving to hear it again and again.

“enjoy your coffee,” he said in parting, tilting his head toward the coffee he bought for you before climbing up the steps to get to his rounds, hoping the day would slip by quickly so he could see you again.

[awanderingdeal]

Hi Lucy! I just had this idea and I thought you'd do it super well- what about Leo meeting Alex for the first time as Finn's boyfriend (we know he meets him at games, and things, briefly, but I mean a dinner where they invite Alex over when he's in town). We know Lo is comfortable with him but I would love to see nervous Leo and him just getting on SO well with Alex about cooking or smth and Finn is just melting at seeing them bond -aj

Thank you so much for this suggestion, aj! I absolutely adored this prompt. Enjoy!

Rating: G

CW: Food

Credit for all characters and the sweater weather universe belongs to @lumosinlove

"Finn!"

Summoned by the call, Finn appeared in the archway, pulling a deep grey crewneck over his head, his hair still damp and floppy from his shower. "What's up, sweetheart?"

"Does Alex like avocado?" Leo asked, hands poised on a piping bag filled with a bright green mayonnaise. Years of practise keeping his nerves at bay on the ice was the only thing stopping him from shaking. He had just been about to put the bag in the fridge, the mayonnaise ready to be piped onto steaks just before serving, when he'd realised he didn't actually know if Alex was one of the few people on the planet to reject the green fruit. "Please tell me he likes avocado."

Logan stepped behind Finn, the white t-shirt he wore stretched over his muscles as he wrapped his arms around Finn's torso. A small part of Leo's brain was appreciative of the sight, but mostly he just felt overdressed in his button-up, the collar feeling tight around his neck now.

"Alex, just like Harzy, will eat anything you feed him. Garbage cans, the pair of them," Logan laughed, kissing the back of Finn's neck.

"Oh! Because you are such a connoisseur," Finn retorted, spinning around to shove Logan gently. "And I don't eat everything. Pate still tastes like ass."

"You would -"

Leo thought he was going to scream. "Guys! Please, you're not helping." He managed to get the words out with only a small crack.

Le, baby." Finn's eyes widened, looking at Logan quickly before crossing the kitchen. He teased the bag from Leo's hands, placing it carefully on the side and then Leo found himself bundled into Finn's arms. "It's just Alex. You don't need to stress."

"It's just Alex to you," Leo sighed, melting into Finn's hold. "I want to make a good impression. Him and Lo are all buddy-buddy already. I want him to like me."

"He will like you. He already does. I promise," Finn soothed. "It looks like you're finishing up here, tell me and Lo what we can clean up and go change. This isn't a job interview, Nutty. "

Logan squashed himself against Leo's chest, curls tickling his chin. "Relax. Only an idiot wouldn't adore you. And Alex is not an idiot."

***

"Knut," Alex grinned, carrying a stack of desert plates into the kitchen. Leo nearly dislocated his knee he rose from his position bent over the dishwasher so quickly. "How much do I have to pay you to make me another one of those cheesecakes. It was divine. Nearly as good as mom's. And I'm only saying that because I need to retain my title as favourite son."

Leo hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt, trying to contain the wide smile at the compliment. Alex had been here for a few hours now and Leo had calmed down a lot, but he hadn't completely ridded the anxious thought that once they were alone Alex would reveal his true feelings.

"Here," Alex held out his stack. "I've been told you're very serious about the art of packing a dishwasher."

"It's a very important business."

Alex leaned against the counter watching Leo load for a minute. "Hey, kid -" Leo raised an eyebrow critically, and Alex showed his palms in surrender. "Alright, not a fan of that nickname. Noted. I was just gonna say I like you a lot. You know, I never thought Finn could ever love anybody as much as he loves Logan." A small noise caught in Leo's throat as he looked up from sorting the cutlery. "But the way he talks about you. The way he looks at you when he thinks nobody is watching."

"I love him a lot too," Leo shrugged. It wasn't apathetic. Leo could never be apathetic about anything to do with Finn. The statement just felt so obvious to him.

"I can tell," Alex smiled, pushing off the counter. "And you seem cool. I'd like to get to know you better. How about next time I'm in town we go and get a coffee or something." He threw his thumb in the direction of the lounge. "Without those two clowns."

"Yeah," Leo nodded, breathing out the last tinges of anxiousness. "That sounds good."

"Alright then," Alex nodded too. "I'll see you back in the lounge. Finn also told me you're the resident Mario Kart champion here?"

Leo snorted a laugh. "That's me."

"Well not for long!" Alex goaded, backing out the kitchen. "Hurry up, Starboy. I've got a game to win."

Starboy. Oh hell no. Leo was going to kill Finn. "We're not doing that nickname either!"

[ttuesday]

Since it’s getting close to summer, what u think are the VDL gang’s favorite ice cream flavors?

~~I had some fun with these so some are kinda believable and others are just bonkers. The length of each varies a lot too~~

Arthur

I think a lot of the time Arthur would just get whatever flavour the majority of people are getting, so he rarely gets his favourite.

but whenever he does get the chance to buy his favourite, I think he'd go with blueberry ice cream.

Dutch

I don't know what flavour of ice cream Dutch loves the most but I am absolutely c o n v i n c e d he'd get whatever ice cream that contains nuts.

Does Dutch have a nut allergy? No. Do I believe Dutch would pretend to have a nut allergy because this man needs to be the centre of attention 24/7 and has no morals? Yeah, pretty much

Everyone knows Dutch isn't allergic to nuts, they've seen him eat nuts before and he had no reaction to it then. Yet everyone plays along with it and pretends to be concerned. Of course Hosea ends up buying him more ice cream afterwards and yes, it would probably be mango flavoured

John

John loves ice cream. If he hears that there's ice cream nearby, then he will literally sprint as fast as he can to it, pushing everyone out of his way as he runs

John is definitely a raspberry ripple man, and it has to be the kind where it's 98% vanilla with just a little bit of raspberry sprinkled throughout

Unfortunately John gets wayyyyy too excited and always gets a brain freeze

Hosea

Hosea's favourite flavour is salted caramel and I'm convinced he'd be reminiscing the entire time he's eating it, thinking back to a time he had ice cream with Bessie

Javier

he’s an ice cream connoisseur

he doesn’t just want ice cream, Javier wants one of those banana split things with at least 10 cherries, 3 bananas, however many syrups he can find and flakes of chocolate on top. 

if he can’t have that then he really likes chocolate fudge ice cream too

Pearson

stew flavoured ice cream

Bill

no ice cream flavour can satisfy Bill, so he buys about 5 different flavours and starts mixing them together to create the perfect flavour

by the time he makes his perfect flavour, the ice cream’s completely melted and now it’s just liquid. But he still goes around asking people if they want to try his cream (he didn’t think he could still call it ice cream considering it wasn’t even cold anymore so Bill decided to just call it cream)

a lot of people didn’t think Bill was referring to his ice cream concoction and Karen gave him a slap across the face when he asked her if she wanted to try his cream 

Sadie

Sadie doesn’t have time for ice cream. The only thing she needs is the blood of her enemies across the blade of her knife

...but she also likes Strawberry ice cream

Lenny

listen, please don’t block me for this but I really think Lenny would just like vanilla ice cream 

it’s the most basic flavour but it’s also underrated. It’s everything you could ask for in an ice cream without being too overpowering

Charles

Charles would say he doesn’t have a favourite ice cream flavour cause he doesn’t eat a lot of desserts but my god, the second he sees the wild berry flavour he knows he has to try it

it’s amazing, he loves it, it’s all he wants to eat (and he’s completely right, wild berry flavoured ice cream is superior and this confirms that Charles has amazing taste)

Susan

coffee flavour, don't @ me

Karen

her favourite flavour is chocolate BUT it has to have little marshmallows in the ice cream too 

the marshmallow in the ice cream get really cold and they’re like little chewy explosions of sweet, cold joy when she bites into them. Very yum

Sean

Sean really likes mint chocolate chip ice cream because ‘mint’ is in the title and he thinks it’ll also work as some sort of mouthwash

because of this, Sean always thinks his breath is minty fresh after he eats ice cream

Micah

Micah would say he doesn’t like ice cream but then he’d get some cookie dough ice cream and sneak off to enjoy it in peace

Uncle <3

he loves any ice cream that’s lemony but it’s never sour enough so he adds a slice of lemon in with it... ew

[suntumarchive]

A commission for @trashbin-connoisseur ! Thank you so much! ;u;

Fandom/s: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Character/s: Donatello Versace x gender- and appearance neutral reader Kink/s: Hunger, stuffing, stomach noises, upset stomach, belly rub CW: Starvation mention

Plot: Donatello Versace is in a bad mood. Why? Simply because he hasn’t eaten yet. Since Donatello is a bit of a strange fellow and views taking a break from his work to eat as weakness, the reader convinces him to have some cake, and let them feed it to him. He enjoys it at first, but then is surprised by a stomach ache, which the reader helps him deal with by massaging him.

___

Donatello Versace lifted his gaze up to the window, and directly looked into the bright spot in the sky for a moment, admiring the winter sun that was hiding behind a thin layer of clouds. Such lovely weather. Even though it was still cold outside and a few stray snow flakes occasionally fell from the sky, it seemed like the perfect day to take a walk. But before that… he had to finish cleaning his shoes.

Well, technically, he didn’t have to. Donatello was just a bit eccentric about his shoes. Very eccentric. Even though the young man hated many, many things; dirty shoes were very high up in his list of most hated things in the world. He felt dirty, unattractive and unclean when there was just a bit of grey on his white sneakers, or a brown stripe across his fancy black leather shoes. They had all been so goddamn expensive, why did the world have to ruin everything he remotely cared about?! Before Donatello realized what he was doing, the brush in his hand went flying, and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Oh. Oops.

“Don?? What was that?”

He rolled his eyes at your voice, and reluctantly got up to get the brush again… He wanted his sneakers to be pearly white after all. Just why was he in such a bad mood though? He woke up feeling fine today. How very annoying… Donatello was supposed to be happy. He deserved happiness more than anyone else. Or so he thought at least…

“Nothing!! I just threw the brush.”

“What? Why?”

The young man glared in your direction for a second as you entered the room. Why? No fucking idea why! It just happened! Did he have to explain everything to you? - No… it wasn’t your fault. It really wasn’t. He shouldn’t be rude. Donatello took a deep breath before he responded.

“Just because. … I’m kind of angry.”

“I see… is there a reason…?”

Before he could open his mouth to try and explain it to you, his body already helped him figure out the best way to let you know. An intense rumble erupted from his gut, filling the room with the deep, low sound of his complaining, hungry stomach. Donatello grunted softly, raising his eyebrows at his belly’s betrayal… not even his hunched over position helped with muffling the noise. Very quickly, the man’s cheeks grew rosy with shame.

“Oh, you didn’t have breakfast yet? But it’s almost lunchtime! Would you like me to make you something? Maybe some egg on toast?”

He found it sweet of you to offer that… Admittedly, he started salivating a bit at the thought of egg on toast, but as you most likely already knew – Donatello was a bit of a weirdo. He couldn’t step away from his work now. That would mean giving into his weakness, and he couldn’t let that happen. No more weakness. Never again. Donatello was a perfectionist – if he wanted the perfect, happy life, then he had to work for it. And a good step towards a perfect, happy life were squeaky clean shoes.

“NO. … No. I want to finish this first.”

You already knew that there was no use trying to convince Donatello once he had an idea implanted in his head… sometimes it would really be interesting to hear his thought process. But for now, you decided to let him do his thing, and sat down on the couch next to him. He glanced in your direction to check whether you’d make anything dirty with your feet, but luckily, you knew him well enough at this point to always take your shoes off and make sure your socks were clean before putting your feet on the couch. Satisfied, he went back to focusing on his own shoes, and immediately remembered why he’d thrown the brush. A yellow streak that simply wouldn’t get off… one would think that more expensive shoes would also be more resistant to getting dirty, but no…

GrrruuRRRRrrrglee…

Donatello grimaced, clenching his teeth, and you already knew another explosion was about to happen soon. Hunger was extremely uncomfortable for this poor guy. He had so many painful memories attached to the feeling, memories of sickness and loneliness, and he never wanted to feel hungry again, but… this was entirely his own fault. And that made him even grumpier. The more he felt his stomach twisting and cramping inside him, the more he wanted to yell. You felt kind of concerned for the white sneakers in his hands – it looked like he was scrubbing them so hard they would burst into flames pretty soon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a quick breakfast break-“

“Yes. I’m sure. I’m almost done.”

Donatello rather said that to comfort himself… but his stomach wasn’t impressed. Another loud groan cut through the atmosphere, and he grunted audibly before ramming his fist into his own belly, making you flinch at the sight. Of course, it didn’t stop his organ from crying. Now it didn’t only scream, it also hurt even more.

“Don, I bought a cake, remember? Wouldn’t you like a slice?”

Finally, it seemed he was ready to give in. He leaned back with a sigh, and turned to face you. There was a defeated look in his eyes that made you want to smile… almost.

“Fine… Yes. One slice. … Please.”

Good! You were relieved to hear he’d changed his mind. You were quick to make your way to the kitchen… of course, you knew very well that a single slice wasn’t gonna cut it. Donatello was a big guy with a big appetite, and he deserved more cake. More cake meant more happiness, right? That’s at least the logic he would use. It was a bit hard to understand sometimes, but you respected it… and very soon, you returned to the living room with three slices of chocolate cake, and a cup of coffee. For a moment, he seemed to panic at the sight of the amount, but his appetite was bigger than his reason… very soon, there was an excited spark in his eyes.

“That looks great. Thanks.”

“Of course”, you nodded, but hesitated before handing the plate to him…

“Donnie…?”

He smirked a bit… you only called him Donnie when you wanted something.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I could feed you?”

Truthfully, Donatello wasn’t too happy about that… he was so hungry, he wanted to wolf the cake down as fast as he could, and he hated it when he lost control in a way, even if it just meant letting you feed him… but fine. Today, he wanted to make an exception. Good deeds also made people happier, right?

“Sure.”

Looks like you were in for a treat! Usually he didn’t like being fed very much. Gratefully, you took your seat next to him, and immediately held up a forkful of cake to his mouth; you didn’t want to make him wait any longer.

You watched Donatello’s lips part, and greedily close around the bite… he instantly seemed to be more relaxed as he chewed, even though you could still hear his empty stomach begging to be fed next to you. Well, as long as he didn’t punch it again… He swallowed quickly, not leaving you much room to enjoy yourself before he opened his mouth for more. Promptly, you held the next bite up to his lips, and he continued to barely chew and swallow the big chunks audibly… But he seemed relaxed now. The flavor and texture of the creamy chocolate was so comforting to him… even though his stomach didn’t seem too happy about it.

I’m hungry for real food. Real, healthy food with real, healthy vitamins. Not… this.

Once you reached the second slice, Donatello seemed to enjoy it less and less, eating slower and slower… The noise of his stomach begging for more had changed into a weird, high pitched gurgling… He didn’t seem to mind it at first, but then he turned his head away all of a sudden.

“Thanks. I’m done.”

“Are you sure? You still have half left.”

“Yes.”

His responses were to cool and quick, you felt something wasn’t right. Did the cake taste bad? He didn’t even touch his coffee yet either… But Donatello also didn’t go back to cleaning his shoes. He just sat there, with his eyes partly closed, and his hands trembling a bit. The part between his nose and lips suddenly looked a little sweaty…

“Are you okay…? Did you eat too fast?”

“I did NOT.”

Oh, right, that was a potential weakness.

But when you glanced at his belly, you immediately knew what was up. He looked bloated, as if his stomach were bulging out, and the intense, deep rumbles had changed into constant bubbling, making his insides sound like a boiling brew inside a witch’s cauldron. Sometimes you forgot that Donatello’s stomach was very sensitive… he had been starved and struggling to survive for pretty much all his youth, and despite his claims and fear of coming across as weak, he was generally a sickish young man…

“Your tummy hurts, doesn’t it…?”

“Don’t say-“

GLRRRRRGRLUURRRghhh…

“… T… Tummy… h-hurts…”

How quickly Donatello’s expression changed from upset to suffering, his head tilted back and his eyes pressed shut… Now you were sure you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You gently placed your hands on his middle, causing him to gasp and give you a bit of an ‘excuse me?’ face, but it soon faded as you began to massage his belly. His insides angrily continued to bubble and churn underneath your touch, you felt bad for feeding him so much sugar…

“Is that okay?”

“… Lower…”

You moved down to the soft spot right above his belly button, making him inhale sharply. Did that hurt too much? Concerned, you wanted to pull your hands away, but Donatello suddenly pushed his own hand against yours… His warm touch made you blush a little.

“That’s the spot…”, he whispered, trying to lean back and give you more room to work, but he found it awfully difficult to relax... His abs still felt rock hard under your fingers, like he was clenching his muscles and trying to not let anything through. Maybe he was scared of you accidentally hurting him, maybe he was scared of seeming weak.

“It’s okay, you can let me rub your tummy… I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t call it tummy, dammit… that’s so embarrassing! Are you five or something??”

You called it tummy earlier too, dumbass.

With a small sigh, you continued kneading his belly… of course you didn’t even ask if he would lift his shirt for you, that would probably embarrass him way too much anyway… But at least you could feel his tense muscles slowly softening up as you worked your magic. The churning from inside his gut felt even more intense on your skin now, but at least now you knew the massage would actually reach him properly. Donatello turned his head to the side now, facing away from you… he obviously didn’t want you to see his pleasured grimacing.

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy your affection or appreciate you… he was just not used to someone caring about him. He wasn’t used to someone wanting the best for him… it was so difficult to just let go of this tough boy façade he’d kept up for all these years. As much as he always said he deserved to be happy more than anyone else, it was hard to let himself be when he was so scared of being hurt again.

GrroOOOAAAaaan…

“Owww…”

“Shh… it’s okay…”

The softness in his voice caught you by surprise… had he ever really said ‘ow’ around you before? You could feel the air inside his stomach starting to shift, and the young man whimpered along with his agitated organs... he kind of reminded you of a little boy for a moment. Maybe he did feel like that little boy again, the one with pretty much constant stomach aches nobody ever cared about…

“UUUUAAAARRRRRRP!!”

That… caught you by surprise as well. The belch was so loud, it felt like it made his chest shake. The uncomfortable scent of stomach acid and chocolate began to spread, and Donatello’s head fell back with a blissful, relieved moan. His eyes almost rolled back even.

“Oh God, that’s better…”

Even though his insides were still gurgling, and small burps continued to shoot up his throat, it didn’t seem to hurt him anymore… it was seemingly all just normal digestion at this point. You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I’m so glad!!”

“Mhhrrrp… ahh… please keep going…”

There it was, your favorite expression of his… that soft, relaxed smile when he was genuinely happy. It was so much prettier than the half-evil smirk he usually gave you. Now you finally dared to lift his shirt, and continued to rub his now exposed belly. Even though he opened one eye and looked at what you’re doing, Donatello quickly relaxed again this time, purring with bliss at the lovely massage.

“Mhhm… that feels sooo fucking good…”

“Good, good… just relax and enjoy it then~”

No need to tell him that… Donatello gently placed his own hand back on top of yours, and moaned out loud again as his belly groaned against your touch. How quickly his pained expression had changed into this look of utter bliss! You felt your cheeks growing red at the sound of his pleased moaning. That was much hotter than you liked to admit… just watching him squirm softly while you massaged him, gasping and sighing at the feeling.

“Lower please…”

“Hey, you can jerk off later”, you teased him.

“No, I mean… under my belly button… please…”

Fine… you didn’t mind that. But honestly… you wouldn’t mind jerking him off either…

[emospritelet]

Desperation 15/16

Oh, don’t mind if I do! As soon as you sent me this prompt I knew how I was going to write it :))

This chapter is also dedicated to @timelordthirteen​, who made this wonderful aesthetic post for this fic and has been patiently waiting for these two to touch :)

[AO3]

Oh, the rating went up 

x 

Belle wrapped the robe she was wearing around herself a little tighter, looping the belt tight as Gold closed down the laptop and shoved the pad containing his budget notes into one of the kitchen drawers. She took two wine glasses from the cupboard as he rummaged around on one of the higher shelves in the larder, finally taking down a bottle of red wine. He held it up, looking uncertain. A stylised black cat with a curling tail was on the label, looking out with tilted green eyes.

“I’ve no idea what it’s like,” he said. “Not exactly a connoisseur. I’m guessing it’ll be red and fairly alcoholic. Aftertaste of wine.”

Belle giggled.

“Can’t ask much more than that,” she said. “Besides, it has a black cat on it. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Gold’s eyebrow twitched, and she felt her mouth drop open as she realised what she’d said.

“Uh - I - I meant with the taste,” she said lamely, and his eyes gleamed as he tried to hide a smile.

“Well, let’s hope so.” He stepped past her, reaching into one of the drawers for a corkscrew. “Come on, let’s take this through to the lounge.”

She waited for him to uncork the bottle, following him through to the lounge and setting the glasses on the coffee table before turning on the lamps. Gold eased himself onto the couch, picking up the glasses one by one and pouring wine into them.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass, and she smiled, sitting down next to him and picking up her own.

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses, and Belle took a sip. The wine was pleasant enough as far as she could tell, its warmth spreading down her throat as she swallowed.

“Considering my sense of taste has all but disappeared, it seems pretty good,” she said, and Gold nodded.

“Honestly, it’s so long since I had a drink, anything would taste good,” he said. “But I’ve definitely had worse.”

He took another sip, and settled back against the cushions with a sigh as he relaxed a little, stretching his legs out.

“How long is it since you just kicked back with a glass of wine?” she asked.

“Probably New Year’s Eve,” he admitted. “Didn’t stay up until midnight, or anything. Bae and I had been to Granny’s New Year’s party, but I had a glass of wine when  he went to bed, and I drank the last of the whisky I had. Sat here in silence and thought about the year that had gone and the one that was to come.”

“I have to say that my New Year’s Eve was similar,” she remarked. “Only with far more alcohol and many more regrets.”

Gold chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

“I was thinking it would be a good year,” he said. “A better year. Didn’t see any of this coming, of course.”

“None of us did,” she said. “Although I have to say this whole experience has made me reevaluate things. Think about what’s important in life.”

“Has it made you regret coming to Storybrooke?” he asked. “You would have had more freedom to move around if you’d stayed in the city, I imagine.”

“Oh, I could never regret coming here,” she said at once. “It’s a wonderful town; admittedly I haven’t seen all that much of it yet, but it certainly seems wonderful. And coming here just before a crisis hits, being a relative stranger in this place - well, it’s made me realise how much strength and compassion there is out there. And how important it is to have a community. To belong.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “This town certainly pulls together in a crisis. And you do belong, Belle. You’re one of us now.”

She smiled at him, and there was a comfortable silence as they drank their wine. It had made her cheeks flush a little, and by the time she finished the glass she was feeling a gentle buzz from the alcohol. Gold took her empty glass, setting it on the table beside his own and pouring them another. 

“Did Bae say anything to you earlier?” he asked. “He seems a little down today.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip. “Yeah. He was talking about his mom.”

“Ah.” Gold nodded. “Yes. He mentions her less than he once did, but I’m sure he still misses her.” 

“He told me about the last time they spoke,” she said, picking up her glass. “He said she promised to visit and bring presents, but she never showed up.”

Gold gave her a thin, bitter smile.

“No,” he said. “He must have asked me when she was coming fifty times over that Christmas period. I didn’t have an answer.”

“And you haven’t heard from her since?” asked Belle.

“A couple of postcards, gushing about how wonderful it was to travel,” he said dryly. “Full of empty promises about how she would come and see him and tell him all about what she’d been doing. The last one of those was over two years ago. I don’t even know if she’s still alive, and frankly I don’t care.”

He hung his head a little, his mouth flattening as he turned the glass between his fingers.

“That sounds bad, doesn’t it?” he said quietly. “I don’t - I don’t wish her harm, I just - she hurt Bae a lot by breaking her promises all the time. She always said she loved him, and that she’d keep in touch, and it just - never seemed to happen. I’d get him ready for a weekend with her, and she’d be late, or she just wouldn’t show at all.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.” Belle wrinkled her nose. “Poor little Bae. That must have been so hard on him.”

“Sometimes I think it might have been better if she’d said straight out that she didn’t want any access,” he said. “Just left him with me when he was born and gone and lived her own life. At least then he wouldn’t have missed her. Still. Hindsight, and all that.”

“Maybe she wanted to try to do the right thing,” ventured Belle, and he shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said. “She made enough of a point of wanting access in the divorce, but perhaps that was just because she wanted to create some drama, I don’t know.”

“So she has your address?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” he said dryly. “I made sure she always knew how to contact him. As much as I could. Last time she wrote to him, she said she was taking a boat out to the Caribbean. God alone knows where she ended up.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, huffing air through his lips.

“God, I’m sorry to rant about my ex. I’ve never really had the chance to do it before. Wouldn’t be fair to do it in front of Bae.”

“I think he’s forming his own opinion of her, anyway,” said Belle, and he nodded.

“Perhaps he is. Not much I can do about it either way, it’s up to her to make their relationship work. If she’s interested.”

“You think she’ll ever come back?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“In the absence of needing a kidney or something?” he said, making her grin. “If I had to put money on it I’d say it’s unlikely.”

There was silence for a moment. Gold took a swallow of wine, shaking his head as though freeing himself from the ghosts of his past.

“What about you?” he asked. “Any depressing relationship failures you want to tell me about?”

Belle pulled a face.

“Mostly a long list of failed first dates,” she said. “A couple of relationships, but nothing that got too serious. Sometimes I think I’m cursed. Or too picky, one of the two.”

“You should be picky,” he said. “No sense in settling for less than you deserve. You deserve the best, Belle. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.”

Gold inclined his head.

“I am happy,” he said. “Most of the time. You know, when there isn’t a deadly pandemic and the threat of financial ruin hanging over the town.”

He sent her a grin, to lighten the statement, and Belle smiled, taking another drink.

“Have you dated much since you got to Storybrooke?” she asked, and he snorted.

“No. Haven’t had time to think about it. Despite Granny doing her best to set me up with every single woman that visits the diner.”

“Sounds like the potential for a bunch of dates as awful as mine was,” she said. “My friend Ariel kept arranging blind dates for me back when I was living in Boston. Unfortunately Ariel’s idea of a hot date and mine just - well, they don’t really match up.”

“I daresay she and Granny would get along well,” he remarked, and Belle giggled.

“Well meaning and wonderful but really missing the mark,” she said.

“God bless ‘em.”

He raised his glass, and she clinked her own against his, still chuckling.

“It hasn’t put you off relationships entirely, then?” she said. “Getting divorced?”

Gold eyed her for a moment, and shrugged.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “I haven’t become bitter and cynical, no matter how badly things ended with Milah. No matter how badly they began.”

Belle turned towards him, drawing her knees up onto the couch.

“You were married,” she said. “You must have cared about each other once.”

“We married because of Bae,” he said wearily. “I wanted to do the right thing, give us some stability. But yes, I suppose we did care. She told me she loved me, anyway. In the beginning.”

“Perhaps she did.”

He gave her a tiny, twisted smile.

“Perhaps,” he said. “For a time.”

“What happened?” asked Belle softly, and he sighed.

“We wanted different things out of life,” he said simply. “And the things she wanted, I couldn’t give her. Things weren’t great to begin with, but then I did this.” He tapped his bad leg. 

“How did you do it?” she asked curiously, and he pulled a face.

“One of my jobs in New York was a courier,” he said. “Motorcycle courier. Had an accident. Caught a wheel on a patch of fuel and took a trip under a truck. Lucky to come out of it with just a busted ankle.” 

Belle winced.

“God, that sounds awful. I’m sorry.”

“Is what it is,” he said, and took another swallow of wine. “Made things impossible between us, though. I hadn’t been much of a catch beforehand, but with a limp and a cane…” He gave her a self-deprecating grin, shrugging.

“You broke up, huh?” said Belle, and he nodded.

”She grew - resentful,” he said. “Restless. It was only a matter of time, really, the accident just made it happen sooner. She wanted money, good times, new places and new people every month. She never wanted the life I could give her. Such as it was.”

“You’re a very generous person,” she told him, and he smiled.

“With what?” he said. “I have nothing to offer. As she told me repeatedly.”

“Don’t say that,” she said firmly, and he shrugged.

“It’s true,” he said. “Milah wasn’t wrong about the facts, however cruel she might have been in the delivery. I have no money. No prospects. Nothing but the skills I’ve taught myself.”

“And a kind and generous nature, and a sense of humour, and a selfless heart…”

Gold chuckled, eyes glinting in amusement.

“You make me sound like a Jane Austen heroine.”

“Take it as a compliment.”

“Oh, I will,” he remarked. “I suppose there’s a lot to be said for trying to be kind in the face of adversity. However unheroic and unmasculine it might be considered by some.”

“As a librarian, I’m qualified to tell you that here are many different types of hero,” she said. “Besides, who cares about money and - and wild parties and things? None of that means anything. Not compared to family and belonging and making a life together. Milah was wrong to think it did.”

“Well, like I said.” His tone was wry. “We wanted different things.”

There was silence for a moment, and Belle took a drink, watching as the light caught on Gold’s hair, picking out gold and silver threads in amongst the brown. He glanced across at her, licking a droplet of wine from his lip, and she thought how handsome he was in the warm light, with his high cheekbones and his soft eyes, long fingers tapping against the wine glass. 

Another drink, the heat of the wine in her mouth, on her tongue. Gold took a sip of his own, lean throat bobbing as he swallowed. There were tiny flecks of new stubble on his jaw, and she licked her lips, wondering how rough it would feel, enjoying the sudden tug of desire deep in her belly. She had been analysing what she felt for him for several days, the growing fondness for his gentle ways and his kind nature, the attraction that pooled and swelled and made her heart thump. She wondered how it would feel to have him touch her. How he would taste if she kissed him.

Belle put down her glass, taking a deep breath, her skin tingling.

“So you said Milah left when Bae was four,” she said, and he nodded, glancing across at her as he took a drink.

“That’s right,” he said, setting down his glass.

“And since then, you’ve loved no one,” she said softly. “And no one has loved you.”

Gold stared at her for a moment, as though he was unsure what she had said, then slowly leaned forward, the couch squeaking a little as he moved. He was very close, and she could feel her breath quicken as his eyes bored into hers.

“Why did you stay with me?” he whispered, and she swallowed, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips.

“I - I wanted to help,” she said. “I thought - I thought you needed me.”

He lifted a hand, his movements hesitant, seeming to catch himself momentarily before gently cupping her cheek, his fingers sliding across her skin. Belle sucked in a breath at his touch, her heart thumping, and as uncertainty flickered across his face she put a hand over his, holding him there. He leaned in a little closer, until she could feel his cool breath against her lips.

“I do need you,” he whispered. “I need you, Belle.”

“I need you, too,” she breathed. “And - and I want you, Rum. So much.”

It was as though sparks were dancing between them, making her skin prickle and her lips part. His breathing had hardened a little, and his eyes were dark and deep, staring into hers. She could feel her pulse throbbing high in her throat, and she leaned in and briefly pressed her mouth to his, a gentle brush of soft lips. Gold sucked in a breath, a shiver going through him, and she kissed him again, lips pressing a little harder before she pulled back. He was staring at her wide-eyed, his palm still cupping her face, and he reached up with the other hand, fingertips brushing stray curls back from her face as he leaned in to kiss her again.

He was hesitant, a little breathless, his lips brushing gently against hers, his fingers sliding into her hair. Belle shifted closer, hands dropping to slide around his waist, and she moaned as the tip of his tongue gently parted her lips, pushing inside to stroke against hers.

Belle shifted closer, pushing him back against the cushions as the kiss deepened. Her heart was thumping, her cheeks flushing as their lips slipped and slid, Gold’s fingers stroking against the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair. She slid a knee across his legs, straddling him, and his hands moved down her back, tugging her close against him as he let out a groan of pleasure. She could feel the edge of his belt buckle against her lower belly, and she rolled her hips, sinking down a little and feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against her core. Gold gasped into her mouth, hot breath and wet lips against hers, and pulled back a little, breathing hard.

Belle nuzzled her nose with his, and he reached up to stroke her hair back from her face, running his thumb over her lower lip, his hands trembling a little. She kissed the tip of his thumb, catching his eyes with hers, her chest heaving as she slid her hands up his chest. He shook his head.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” he whispered, and she smiled.

“Did you dream about this?”

“Too many times,” he breathed. “I never thought - never hoped you might—”

She kissed him again, and he let out a low growl, his hand clutching at her hair as the kiss grew hard and messy. His chest was hot and firm beneath her hands as they slid upwards, his hair just as soft as she had expected. She pulled her mouth from his, sitting back a little as she tried to catch her breath.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered.

He stared at her, his mouth a little slack, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly uncertain.

“Do you - not want to?” she asked, and Gold’s eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Oh - no no, of course I do,” he said quickly. “It’s just - well - you’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just a little tired, that’s all. Going to bed would be the best thing for me, in the circumstances.”

He grinned at that, and inclined his head.

“I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But I didn’t see any condoms in Mayor Mills’ grocery box.”

Belle giggled, and kissed his nose.

“I take birth control,” she said. “So - so we could. If you wanted.”

He smiled briefly, his eyes glinting.

“I want,” he breathed, and kissed her again.

Belle undulated against him, pressing her body to his, feeling the heat of him through his shirt, and his hand dropped to her thigh, sliding upwards, moving over her hip to squeeze her rear. She pulled her mouth free, pressing her forehead to his.

“Bed,” she whispered, and slipped from his lap.

They left the wine, Belle grasping his hand in hers and pulling him with her up the stairs. The lamp was on in the bedroom, a pleasant, warm light, and she shut the door behind him, hoping that Bae was sleeping soundly and wouldn’t decide to wander around in the middle of the night. She stepped forward, reaching for him, and their mouths met, her hands grasping his belt and tugging it open as his hands stroked over her shoulders. Gold pushed the robe from her, and she quickly pulled the belt open and let it fall, stepping closer and rising up on her toes as she pulled her mouth from his and kissed down his neck.

He let out a low groan, head rolling back, and she reached for the buttons of his shirt, eager to open it up and bare his skin. Her hands shook a little as she unbuttoned him, and she trailed her mouth around his throat, breathing in the musky scent of him, feeling the scrape of his stubble against her tender lips. She got the shirt open, tugging it from his jeans, hands sliding over hot, firm muscles as she pushed it from him. Gold shrugged out of it, and she bent her head to his chest, letting her tongue swirl over a taut nipple and making him groan. His skin tasted of salt and very faintly of the shower gel he used. She breathed him in, nuzzling his skin with her nose, and tasted him again, sucking the nipple in between her lips.

Gold ran his fingers through her hair, rumpling her curls as she sucked at him, her tongue circling. His fingers gently scraped against her scalp, making her shiver deliciously, and she slid her hands down his sides, feeling the lines of his ribs, drawing her fingertips around the waistband of his jeans. She let his nipple slip from her mouth and raised her head, breathing hard as she plucked at the button of his fly. Gold cradled her face with warm hands, kissing her tenderly, his lips soft and wet.

She got his jeans open, breaking the kiss as she pushed them down over his hips, and stepped back as he kicked them off. Gold reached for her, hands gently grasping her hips and pulling her a little closer. His thumbs slipped beneath the shirt of her PJs, brushing against the skin of her waist and slowly pushing upwards, lifting the shirt. Belle raised her arms to let him pull it over her head and toss it aside, and she shook out her hair, watching him study her, his eyes roaming over her curves.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “So beautiful.”

She smiled, reaching for him, stepping close and sliding her hands around his waist as she raised her head to capture his lips with her own. Gold groaned, hands sliding down to cup her rear and pull her close, her breasts pushing against his chest, his skin hot against hers. He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, and Belle rose up on her toes with a moan of pleasure. The sensation of his lips against her skin made her shiver, and he pulled back, nuzzling her nose with his as he pushed her pants down over her rear.

Belle stepped out of them, turning and pulling him with her as she lay down on the bed. He stumbled a little, kneeling heavily on the mattress beside her before lying by her side, and Belle shifted over a little, reaching up to kiss him, hands stroking through his hair as he pulled her close. He rolled her onto her back, kissing down her throat, his hair brushing against her chest as he kissed lower, his tongue painting circles on her skin. His hands cupped her breasts, and Belle moaned, arching upwards as he sucked at a nipple, a low groan coming from him.

She let her head roll back against the pillows, eyes closed, enjoying the heat and weight of him pressing down on her, and the feel of his lips against her skin. He kissed lower, his fresh stubble scratching at her belly, and she sucked in a breath as his tongue swept over her navel, lips pulling at her skin. His hands slid down to her thighs, pushing them apart, and she opened her legs wider as his nose brushed against her tender flesh. Gold let out a low growl as he kissed her, and Belle answered him with a tiny cry as his tongue dipped in between her folds. She let her hands drop to push through his hair, moaning as he licked her, his tongue swirling and stabbing, brushing over her clit and making her skin hum with pleasure.

“God, Belle!” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, and put his mouth to her again, his tongue circling, soft and wet. 

Belle moaned, arching her back, pushing against his mouth. He had settled into a rhythm, his tongue moving in slow circles, and she lost herself in the feel of it, letting the pleasure build deep in her core. His hand moved, a finger teasing her before sliding inside, pushing deep, and Belle gasped at the increase in sensation, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“God, that’s good!” she breathed. “So good.”

He was sliding the finger in and out of her, his tongue stroking against her, and she could feel the heat rise up through her body, flushing her cheeks and making her breath quicken. She whimpered, clutching at his hair, pushing her hips upwards, her body rocking against the bed in time with his thrusts. He had quickened his pace, his tongue flickering over her, and she could feel her muscles tense, her body tightening as her pulse seemed to pound in her head.

She came with a cry, shoving a forearm over her mouth to muffle the noise as a wave of pleasure broke over her. Gold groaned, drawing the finger out of her, his mouth covering her, devouring her, and she moaned as her hips jerked in tiny, rapid movements. He pressed kisses to her, lips trailing over her inner thighs before making his way up over her belly, and she slid her hands over his shoulders as he reached her breasts, his hands cupping, lips gently pulling at a nipple. His body was pressed against hers, and she could feel him against her thigh, a hard, heavy heat that made desire surge within her.

He pushed up on his elbows, breathing hard as he gazed down on her, and she reached up to push his hair back from his face, his skin damp and sticky.

“That was amazing,” she whispered. “You see? Very generous.”

He grinned, his eyes glinting.

“I could be even more generous, if you like.”

“Maybe later,” she said, sliding a hand down between them. “I’m in the mood for something a little more - mutual.”

She grasped his cock, feeling the hot, rigid length of him in her hand, squeezing gently, and Gold groaned low in his throat, a bass, rumbling growl. Belle ran the pad of her thumb over the head, spreading a bead of slippery fluid, and opened her legs a little wider, guiding him into her. His breath caught, the muscles in his arms tightening, and he let out a shuddering sigh as he pushed slowly inside her, sinking deep. She moaned, lifting her knees, sliding her feet along his thighs and up over his rear, wrapping her legs around his back.

He felt good inside her, and she lifted her hips, feeling the heat of him, the friction of his skin against hers as he began to move with long, slow circles of his hips, a rhythmic grinding motion. His hands pushed into her hair, fingers still sticky with her fluids, and he kissed her, his tongue gently pushing between her lips. Belle caressed his shoulders, running fingertips down his sides and up the groove of his spine to stroke through his hair. He shuddered, gasping into her mouth, his hands cradling her face, his lips brushing against hers as he thrust into her.

Belle moaned, head rolling back against the pillows, and he drew his tongue up her throat, sucking at her skin. The feel of him inside her was incredible, heat and wetness and the friction of his body against hers sending bursts of sensation through her. She kissed along his jaw, feeling the rasp of his stubble against her lips, drawing the warm scent of him in through her nose. She could feel bliss rising through her once more, swelling upwards and making her skin hum. Her thighs gripped his sides, sliding against him, holding him tight, and he groaned against her neck, his movements quickening, his cock pushing deep inside her. 

She could feel him tense, his muscles hard and taut beneath her fingers, and she bucked against him, tugging at him, a moan bursting from her throat and becoming a cry of pleasure as she came, stars bursting in her vision. Gold let out a deep groan, his cock pulsing as he followed her, his thrusts rapid and shallow as his hips pumped. She clung to him, letting out tiny moans in time with his thrusts, and he slowed to a stop, breathing heavily, hair brushing her face as he pressed his forehead to hers.

Belle tried to catch her breath, feeling the heat of him against her, perspiration making their skin slippery where their bodies joined. She tilted her head, gently brushing her lips against his, and Gold smiled, nuzzling her affectionately.

“Hey,” he said, and she smiled.

“Hey.”

He kissed along her jaw and down her neck, slowly pulling out of her and rolling onto his side with a heavy sigh. Belle turned with him, sliding a hand over his waist and down over his hip. She felt wonderfully relaxed, her skin still tingling from her orgasm, and Gold was watching her with a tender expression, his eyes heavy with sleepy contentment. She walked her fingers up his body, laying her hand over his heart and feeling its heavy thump against her palm. Gold smiled, putting a hand over hers.

“I’d forgotten how good it feels,” he whispered, sliding his fingers through hers. “To be touched. To touch like this.”

“It’s been a while for me, too,” she said, and his mouth curved in a lopsided grin.

“Has it been six years?”

“Well - okay, maybe not that long,” she admitted, chuckling. “But this was worth the wait.”

“Indeed.” He kissed her gently. “It was perfect.”

“Not bad for a couple of invalids,” she added, and he chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a wonderful dream,” he said. “And when I wake up, I’ll be alone again.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on sleeping on the couch again,” she remarked. “Your bed is too comfy. And way better when you’re in it with me.”

“Good,” he said softly, and kissed her again. “Stay with me tonight, Belle.”

“I’ll stay,” she whispered. “I won’t leave you, I promise.”

[elle-imagines]

Hello!! May I request headcanons for Victor and Lucien from MLQC? If it’s okay, maybe some soft relationshippy HCs? Thank you so much, I hope you’re having a wonderful day 💫

Thank you, my day is wonderful and I hope yours is, too! It’s been such a long time since I’ve played this game, so I may be a bit rusty! I definitely downloaded it and will replay it again to get a refresher :) Let’s say good-bye to all of my savings again!

Victor

He truly loves you and thinks about you often. He began to become aware of his love for you when he keeps questioning if he’s good enough for you. Victor is aware of his success and the attention it gets. As CEO, he became acclimated to assessing others to his standards, not the other way around. Victor is typically critical and aims to achieve, yet now he feels the need to become better for you.

Victor will always push you to your limits because he believes in you. He doesn’t waste time if he doesn’t see potential. Victor investing time to make sure you meet deadlines, looking over your papers, and making you wake up early are the greatest compliments he can give you. Even though you may hate it at times, he is communicating that he believes in you and will support you to the best of his power. When you forget how strong you are, he will remind you and try to help you see yourself how he sees you. 

Gives very good advice to you when you need it. Victor knows when to back off and let you make decisions for yourself, but he will be there to catch you when you fall. 

Sometimes stops time just to look at you and take a moment to feel the rush of ardor he has for you. 

He won’t hesitate to speak about you when the time is right, and will boast your accomplishments to put a good word in for you. He wants to see you succeed and knows you will work hard enough to handle anything that comes your way. Other than talking highly of you, he prefers to keep you a mystery to others due to his protective nature. He is not one to gossip about his loved ones anyway, so to him the less people know about you when it’s not necessary, the better.

He is a lot more affectionate than he lets on. In the early hours of the morning you will wake up in his embrace that takes half an hour to snake out of. Out of nowhere, he will ruffle your hair when he’s proud of you. He won’t hesitate to rub flour from your face with his thumb. His hands will envelope yours as he teaches you how to cut vegetables with a chiffonade technique. Touch is one of the ways he says he is there for you, that he’s proud of you, and that he loves you.

It’s common for you both to indulge in late-night conversations about anything. Victor is at his most calm and vulnerable at home from a long day of work and can drop the steely facade at the sound of your voice. A glass of wine is usually in his hand, so cherish that rough voice and those soft laughs while he’s tipsy. This pasttime is something you both did before you were together, and continued to do because it grants the easiness of talking about vulnerable topics without having to face each other. Hearing your voice after a long day helps him more than you know. 

Of course he has taken you on many trips to private wineries, deluxe suites, and places on your bucket list. However, nothing beats a getaway to Souvenir. Victor feels like he can be himself. He is anonymous while in the kitchen, able to focus on his passion for cooking with your presence there with him. Most times he will teach you a new recipe or put you to work in the kitchen (of course). Don’t be fooled, he enjoys your company and allowing you back there with him shows that he is comfortable with you knowing his more private and true persona.

“Pass me the paring knife - blade down so you won’t kill me.”

“Here, taste this for me.”

“If you answer my question, I just might relieve your cleaning duties.”

“Here, let me do it before it gets worse.”

Lets you take the reins sometimes when it comes to making decisions, big or small. There are times when he asks for your advice on things such as menu changes for Souvenir or details on a choice he has to make as an executive. He values your opinions and is with you because he also thinks you are sensible and intelligent (sometimes). 

You both regularly debate about everything, and he likes that you can keep him on his toes. What sauce should go on a medium-rare steak, economic prosperity in different countries, is Victor an evil capitalist CEO or evil chef connoisseur, you name it. 

A lot funnier than he seems. His dry humor and witty remarks catch you off guard at times. Victor is very observant of you and makes fun of your behaviors, especially if he notices you checking him out or blushing profusely over something he said. 

As much as he hates to admit it, he does spoil you. If he sees you eyeing a certain dress, the next day it’s sent to your home. If he hears your stomach growling, he’s in the kitchen already while chiding you for not eating yet. Victor always takes care of you and makes sure your needs are met, even if he’s nonchalant about it. 

“How could you have forgotten to eat today? Stay put, I’m on my way.”

“Don’t thank me; it’s nothing.”

“Make sure you take care of yourself, alright?”

“I can’t leave you by yourself, can I?”

He does this thing where he speaks with his regular sharp tone then turns to you and sounds like honey. Goldman has observed it many times and is never ceased to be amazed by it.

Lucien

The two of you make a habit of stopping at each other’s workplaces with lunch or snacks. Between Lucien’s class periods, you will bring him his favorite order of coffee and something to quick to eat. If he can’t make it to drop off food to you, he will definitely call your favorite restaurant to deliver your favorite order. Even if you get the amount of sugar in his coffee wrong, he is especially detailed when it comes to knowing your orders. What condiments you use, pickles or no pickles, your allergies, he makes note of it all and gets it right every time.

You both find tranquility in reading next to each other after a long day of work. Stints to corner bookstores with worn books and cats sleeping on the shelves is a favorite pasttime. Sometimes, he’d ask for you to read to him while he’s cooking or taking a moment after work. He enjoys hearing the serious drop in your voice at an action scene, or the laughter you try to subdue when you read something particularly funny. At night before bed, he will take the reins and read anything you like if you have trouble sleeping. He swears his reading voice is terrible, but will stick through just to hear you shower him in compliments about your love for his voice.

In the most mundane moments you will catch him staring at you. Lucien, even if he may not look like it, is always cataloguing, learning, and observing. The sun’s warmth on your hair brings out the lighter hues on each strand. You have a habit of running a nail over your eyelid when you’re nervous. You have a callous on your ring finger because you hold a pencil strangely. He is always taking note of every aspect of your person, from your small ticks to a glimpse of your morals. Lucien also does not shy away from eye contact. If you meet his eyes he will not have the propriety to look away, and he enjoys the nervous shift you make under his gaze.

“What, Lucien? Is there something on my face?” “If I said no, could I look at you longer?”

“I’m just looking at you, Y/N.” 

“You look beautiful.” 

“A boyfriend can look at his other half, right?” 

He has a notebook that he writes detailed observations, research ideas, and quick sketches of architecture, local fauna, and neighborhood cats. Lucien used to indulge in drawing as a kid so he maintained the skill a bit as an adult. After a while, he will let you look through it or show you a few pages. At times, he makes quick sketches of you when he can. Leaning against a tree, sleeping through your alarm in the morning, catching fireflies at night, anything. He seeks to preserve these moments with you, wanting to immortalize the brevity of your laughter or the way you look at him sometimes.

You learned how to read his researcher’s scrawl after a while. His regular handwriting is quite nice-looking and neat, but when it came to his notes and marginalia, you quickly learned that doctors and scientists have the same handwriting when it came to their work.

You both have a signal that means it’s time to leave when you’re caught in a large crowd, a party, or otherwise less-than-ideal situation for Lucien’s sanity. Lucien prefers to plan and avoid situations like these altogether, therefore most of your outings are at botanical gardens, art galleries, libraries, or aquariums. Speaking events are the only place he’d suggest with a high number of people, only because there isn’t any interaction with them.

Lucien shows his affection differently than most boyfriends. He isn’t keen on public affection and likes have a wide berth of space, though he likes having you in it. He is very subtle and can sneak in a moment of affection when he wants to. When walking with each other, he won’t hesitate to offer his arm, and while taking in art pieces at a gallery he may grasp your hips lightly while moving by. His presence is not flashy, but it’s always there and ensures you feel loved and safe.

Lucien does little things like make you tea when you’re on the way home, turn on a lamp when you’re working late, and give you a warm towel when you’re coming out of the shower. He tries to make your life a bit easier by helping you remember your appointments, circumventing any problems you may run into whether it’s a rude coworker or your chronic habit of leaving your phone at home. Anything that he could help you with, he is there for. He even has a knack for helping you with things you didn’t even know you needed help with.

Every point of your relationship, from friendship to romance, he asked questions about you. Lucien never gets tired of getting to know you.

“When did you start liking oolong tea?”

 “Can I pick your mind for a moment?” 

“How long have you been doing that for?” 

“I’d like you to read this and tell me what you think.” 

The King of Popping Up on You. Before you two were together, Lucien cherished his privacy and preferred to be alone. One of the ways he figured he was falling for you was when he sought your company in his free time. He rarely initiates contact with anyone, but he would text you first out of the blue or give a call to hear your thoughts on something important to him. At your workplace or school, he will pop in to check in on you. Lucien feels this urge to see you naturally in your own environment, watching you focused on a task or talking with others. It’s a way for him to get to know you and observe how you act. When he has free time, he thinks of where he could take you rather than reading on his own. You became a part of him, for better or worse, so Lucien wants to continue forward with you by his side.

[war-of-the-words]

The Taste of Love

Summary: Prompt fill:  Soulmates share their sense of taste. Written Feb 2018 Read on AO3

It was always incredibly important to Kudo Shinichi that he always ate delicious food, not because he was a connoisseur of any sort, nor because his family had the wealth to do so, but because he felt it was his duty to ensure that his soulmate would be privilege to the greatest tastes Shinichi could afford. His parent were the ones to instill this mentality in him, telling stories about how they would feel so connected to one another when they were able to share a meal without meeting one another. How they would neglect eating their own meals in order to not ruin whatever the other was eating. Shinichi had no way of knowing who his soulmate was, where they lived, whether or not they had the level of privilege he had, so, as soon he was told about soulmates, he would always beg his parents to take him to the restaurants with the greatest food, unaware of their cost at the time, and his parents would always comply. The tradition continued until he lived on his own. He had to be conscious of his spending money, so he altered his approach. He was constantly online, looking for the restaurants that were lesser known, lower priced, but praised for their exceptional food. Shinichi discovered some of his favorite restaurants this way, and by the way he would crave those restaurants, his soulmate must like them too.

Speaking of his soulmate, Shinichi had always found them peculiar. Home-cooked meals could always be picked out, and Shinichi always enjoyed the days he could taste such a meal on his lips-and he was thankful Ran was always offering to make meals for him, otherwise his soulmate might hate him for constantly eating convenience store food-so it was one of the highlights of Shinichi’s day when he would taste those meals, it made him so much more connected with his soulmate, and he kept track of the kinds of things his soulmate ate in order to try and deduce the things his soulmate liked or hated. His soulmate loved chocolate, in all forms, and didn’t seem to eat a lot of fish, which made him think his soulmate wasn’t Japanese for quite a while. His soulmate also ate some weird combinations, some to gross to even think about physically eating. He hoped most of those were for dares or some kind of punishment game.

At about the age of eight, Shinichi found he was glad he had decided to keep a journal about his soulmates eating habits. At all the usual times he would taste some meal on his lips, he tasted nothing. It lasted weeks, only occasionally tasting crackers or other easy to digest foods. He worried that his counterpart had been hospitalized, but hospitals gave their patients proper meals, so Shinichi decided that it must be something more mental keeping his soulmate from eating. He set out on a quest, scouring back through his notes to find the foods he deemed his soulmate liked the most. Yusaku and Yukiko became slightly concerned when their son started to demand foods he usually ate in moderation, chocolate, in all kinds of forms, meals cooked a certain way, as little fish as possible, certain restaurants, and when their eight-year-old finally disclosed the reason for his behavior, they complied. And it seemed to work, Shinichi began to have certain cravings, sometimes for foods he was eating, other times for meals that he quickly begged his parents to have, and, eventually, he began to taste proper meals on his lips again. Still afraid his soulmate would stop eating, Shinichi started yet another tradition, on Saturdays, he would ensure he ate whatever he thought his soulmate would most enjoy.

That tradition he carried into his teens, incorporating the ever-growing set of data, the small restaurants he would frequent, and begging for the occasionally favor from Ran to help him cook a meal. Ran would always agree, and soon made it a tradition of her own to spend Saturdays with Shinichi, cooking or going out to meals with him. She loved watching him, how dedicated he was to this person he didn’t even know, and hoped that his soulmate would one day be able to appreciate this, and go to these meals with him. His soulmate seemed to at least become attached to Saturdays, Shinichi wouldn’t taste anything until well after the times Shinichi ate.

Shinichi was content, he was rising in popularity as a detective, and he loved being one, sure, but if asked, Shinichi would always say that food was his absolute favorite thing in the world. That statement made his fame slightly more uncomfortable as fans would send in different kinds of foods, expensive ones, homemade one, desserts and bentos to giftcards to some of the most luxurious restaurants in Tokyo. Not only were his fans keen to try to exploit this fact, but so was Suzuki Sonoko. She would offer the use of her family’s private chef, or just paying for one of the more expensive restaurants on Shinichi’s list in exchange for favors. The most frequent one might be her most outrageous.

“If you catch Kaitou KID for me, I’ll pay for all of your meal expenses for the next five years.” Shinichi looked up, taken aback.

“I’m sorry? You want me to what?” Sonoko sighed, placing her hands on her hips and leaning menacingly over Shinichi, where he sat at his desk.

“I want you to catch Kaitou 1412 for me and show me his face before taking him in to police custody in exchange for all of your food expenses for the next five years.” Shinichi’s face must still have shown confusion, because Sonoko let out another sigh and elaborated, “Kaitou KID is like, the most notorious criminal right now, and if anyone can catch him, you can, you detective nerd, so take that as a compliment and do this for me.”

And that’s how Shinichi began his hunt for a phantom, he couldn’t turn down that offer, it would be absolute lunacy. All of his food expenses? Shinichi had learned to go about it cost effectively, but with Sonoko as his wallet, he could frequent the higher ticket restaurants more frequently, or buy higher quality ingredients, or take cooking classes. He had to do this favor for Sonoko. The first few heists he attended, Shinichi was so caught up in trying to catch the thief that he got nowhere close to him, so he put his goal on the back burner and just tried to focus on the phantom thief as much as possible.

Shinichi began to experience the heists in a completely new way. He picked up on the meaning behind the notices quicker, and with each passing heist, began to meet the thief’s pace. He came to respect KID, he was clever and he pushed Shinichi to think in different ways, and if the banter the two would exchange was any indication, KID liked the challenge the Shinichi brought to him as well. This continued on for a few months until a certain heist, the first one to ever be scheduled on a Saturday.

It shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was, but through all of the research and analysis Shinichi did on the thief, Saturdays were the least likely KID picked for heists, it was one of the reasons why Shinichi allowed himself to pursue the thief with such fervor. The owner of the jewel had challenged KID to steal it, however, so Kaitou KID, never one to turn down a challenge, really didn’t have a choice. As much as it pained Shinichi, he couldn’t miss a heist, and, sure, he found the phantom thief to be a great rival, but Sonoko’s offer was too good to pass up. He made sure his breakfast was quite elaborate, an unspoken apology to his soulmate, and hoped the flavor helped his soulmate, if the taste of an energy bar and black coffee, unusual for his soulmate, was anything to go by.

The heist location was in the museum the gem’s owner curated. He had brought the sizable peridot out of storage for one day only, and had smugly challenged Kaitou KID to steal it from “the one of a kind security” of the museum. Shinichi didn’t understand why all of these rich people think their security is any different than the others, the thief always gets through it. Shinichi was at the heist location around five, managing to grab a sandwich at a small western deli he had found on one of his cheap food hunts. He wasn’t the biggest fan of deli food, but it was quick and easy and he was now craving said sandwich, so his soulmate must be enjoying the taste. It wasn’t like he was the only one eating pre-heist either, many of the officers were eating quick bites in between planning.

Shinichi, however, was more concerned over who wasn’t eating. His soulmate still hadn’t had anything but the energy bar and now he tasted, what, some kind of cosmetic? It certainly didn’t taste like the lip balm he often felt on his lips during the colder months, and it felt more dense than lip balm too.

Shinichi was thrown out of his musings by the feeling of someone staring at him. Quickly jerking his head around, he scanned the area, no one was making eye contact with him, and no one looked like they were actively trying to avoid him, he did, however, notice the curator and his wife. They must have just arrived, as they were talking with Nakamori-keibu. The curator looked as Shinichi had assumed, a pompous man who was dressed formally, like he was trying to shove his wealth in everyone else’s face. His wife was just as pompous looking, her face heavily coated in makeup with intensely red lipstick. Which just brought his thoughts back to his soulmate.

It was rare for his soulmate to wear lipstick or lipgloss, and he usually only felt it in the evening, so was it cosmetics for dates? Shinichi didn’t want to think about that. He knew a lot of people dated outside of their soulmate, as it was rare to actually find one another, but what could he say, Shinichi was a romantic at heart.

Shinichi shook himself from those thoughts, he had to focus on the heist. He took a seat on one of the benches on the side of the exhibit hall, it was evident they were there for more aesthetic purposes rather than comfort. He pulled a copy of the heist note from his pocket, it was fairly straightforward, a clear acceptance of the curator’s challenge, but there was something else in it, something Shinichi hasn’t quite discovered yet. His suspicion was that the thief had incorporated a clue as to who he would disguise himself as in order to enter the museum, but it was a struggle to find in what way the thief had coded the hint.

He had lost himself trying to decode the note in every cypher he knew of, and when he had finally gotten it, it was just about the time of the heist. Almost jumping from his seat, Shinichi rushed to find the inspector, he was still standing on the other side of the exhibit by the gem with the curator and his wife, who were apparently quite displeased with division two’s plan. “It is just outrageous that you people even need to be here!” the curator exclaimed, with a voice as pompous as he looked.

“My husband had this place upgraded to the best security system in all of Japan, isn’t that right dear?” His wife, with a voice equally as pompous, added.

“Of course, just look for yourselves! There is absolutely no way Kaitou KID could break into this case,” the pair stalked over to the display case the jewel was resting in, “Only my handprint can open this case,” the curator explained, reaching for the panel keeping the case locked.

“Wait! Don’t get to close!” Shinichi yelled, still too far away to prevent what happened next, which was his wife, with a quick smirk aimed toward the detective, forcing the man’s hand onto the panel, unlocking the display case, and with an explosion of smoke, the curator’s wife was gone, and Kaitou KID stood smugly on top of the now empty case.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” KID gestered out to the clearly shocked group of officers and reporters, there only because the curator allowed it; Shinichi, however, was still making his way toward the thief. “I’m terribly sorry I have to cut tonight short, I do hope you forgive me, but I’m usually occupied on Saturdays, and as there is still time left in the day, I hope we can all go home and enjoy it.” That statement shocked Shinichi enough to stop his approach, so the phantom really did avoid Saturday heists. It was nice to confirm one of his suspicions, but it only raised more questions.

In a flash, KID had thrown another smoke bomb, the cover allowing him to remove himself from the display before the task force could make their move. Shinichi wasn’t certain which way the thief would escape, but his gut told him the roof was his best bet. He was pleased to find his hunch was right. Throwing open the door, he could clearly see the thief standing by the edge of the roof, his whole body showing ease and confidence. Before  Shinichi could even register it himself, he was already deploying a soccer ball which hurled toward the phantom at a breakneck speed, then-

Blood. Shinichi tasted blood, but he wasn’t bleeding, did his soulmate bite their lip or…

“Jesus, Tantei-kun, give a guy some time to react next time, did I do something to offend you?” Shinichi brought his attention back to the criminal in front of him. KID was holding the left side of his face, visibly turning red even in the dim light. And his lip… was busted and bleeding. Oh .

Shinichi couldn’t jump to conclusions, it could just be a coincidence, but, “KID, tell me, did you use some kind of cosmetic on your lips for your disguise today? Not on a mask, but your actual lips.” KID, through his pain, gave Shinichi a questioning smirk.

“Why detective, I didn’t know you were interested in cosmetics. To answer your question, yes, I did, it was a lovely shade called “He’s With Me”. Don’t ask me why they name lipsticks these kinds of things, I don’t understand it either.” Okay, well, Shinichi didn’t need all that information.

“KID, what have you had to eat today?”

“I really don’t understand the interrogation, Tantei-kun, first you hit me in the face with a soccer ball, now you sound like my mother asking about how I’ve been eating.”

“Please, KID, just tell me.” The thief seemed to consider it for a couple seconds.

“Well, it’s a heist day and it was kind of sudden, so I had to do a bit of setup and recon this morning, so, I don’t know, I guess I just grabbed a power bar and some coffee, as vile as straight black coffee is.”

Well great. Shinichi had no idea what to do with this information. Well first I should probably… “KID, I think we’re soulmates.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m fairly certain. I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning with a side of bacon, then for lunch I went to a deli and got a turkey sandwich on rye bread with lettuce, tomato, and provolone cheese.”

“...Was the bread toasted?”

“Yeah.”

“... You really need to take me to all of these places, Tantei-kun, do you know how tragic it is to crave something and then have absolutely no idea where to find said dish? I have been searching for that yakisoba place for months .” Despite himself, Shinichi let out a little laugh.

“Well, like you said, there is still time left in the day”

“You mean, you're fine with...this?” KID gestured to himself, a small, genuine smile on his lips.

“Only if your okay with dating a detective and, you know, you don't try to assault anyone, and I think those are pretty reasonable standards.” KID laughed, a sound Shinichi could listen to for the rest of his life.

“Well detective, I think we have ourselves a date.”

[albapuella]

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter One)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday.

I also tried to be fancy with the html, but it didn't come out right (you will see what I mean). However, I'm leaving it as is for now.

Chapter 1: Inciting Incidents 

Day 0:

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't keep a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't his fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually was his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I am in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

---

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

* Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired? Hot. Attractive. Moderately attractive.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

---

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe TG: wanted to say hey TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE? TG: hell yea dog TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz- TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you

That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this was Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right? CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW? CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT. CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date

Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit TG: but not really TG: cause no offense but i just met you TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks TG: at least a tongue kiss or something TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically TG: thats all kinds of gross TG: forget i said any of that please CG: … CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

---

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

* Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents. I'm going to be murdered. What the hell am I doing?

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.

[spyder-m]

Shumako Week 2020, Day Five: Put Some Love Into It

@shumakoweek​ Day Five: Coffee / Cooking / Dinner Date.

AO3 / FF.net

Summary:  When her sister spoke fondly of the coffee sold by a shop in Yongen, Makoto felt compelled to try it. AU 

.

Makoto wasn't entirely sure what had brought her to the coffee shop in Yongen-jaya. The cafe had been out of her way, the complete opposite direction from both her apartment and the University campus. 

It seemed like a lot of effort to go to for something she could have just as easily bought from a vending machine, or one of the many chain stores dotted around the city.

Yet, hearing her older sister speak so fondly of the store's coffee had piqued her interest.

Sae was a perfectionist. For the coffee to have left such a good impression on her, it must have been of the highest quality.

Seeing as she rarely stopped by their apartment, perhaps Makoto had also hoped they might run into each other there.

Leblanc was tucked away in a narrow alley, boasting its own hustle and bustle unique from the sprawling metropolis. There were smatterings of children, families and pets, moving about between the local businesses.

Bells chimed as Makoto stepped through the front door, her body enveloped by warmth and the permeating scent of cigarettes and the store's many roasts.

It drew her eyes to the shelf lined with a variety of beans and spices. Makoto considered herself quite capable in the culinary department, yet she never realised there were so many different blends of coffee to choose from.

The range was rather overwhelming.

"Oh, welcome."

A middle-aged man stooping over the counter set down his newspaper to greet her. He stood beside a contraption made of numerous bulbs and clasps, appearing more like something out of a laboratory than any machine she’d seen in cafes.

"What can I get for you?"

"I- I'm not quite sure." Makoto answered, eyes drawn to the menu board. "There certainly is a lot to choose from."

"A newbie, huh?" The owner chuckled, before turning and setting to work. "Hold on. I can make you something I think you'll enjoy."

Hesitant, the strap of Makoto's bag slipped from her shoulder as she seated herself at the counter.

A black cat sauntered down the stairs with a stretch of its limbs and a long, deep meow, sniffing at her feet, curious. Makoto eyed the animal. For many businesses, its mere presence would be an obvious health violation.

Did Leblanc also double as a cat cafe?

"Here you are." The man called, Makoto's focus shifting back the counter-top as a steaming cup was placed before her.

"Oh, thank you."

Coffee was something Makoto had developed a taste for in high school; the caffeine helping her concentrate during long study sessions. While, over the years, she'd found a tolerance for the bitter nectar, it was never really something she savoured or choose to drink for any purpose other than necessity.

She was, by no means, a connoisseur.

Yet, the care shown to this particular blend was apparent to her from the moment it settled on her tongue. No sooner had the first sip of rich, brown liquid trickled down her throat, that Makoto was struck by a realisation.

She had never truly drunk coffee before. 

The city was crowded by people all in a hurry, rushing to make a train or their next meeting. They needed their coffee prepared as quickly as possible, the margin for quality wasn't quite as high.

Yet, in this shop, tucked away from the rush and demand, the owner had been afforded the time and luxury necessary to capture a roasts potential. Customers would wait patiently, sitting, engaged in relaxed conversation; almost an entirely different culture that Makoto had not been privy to.

Nursing her drink, Makoto began mentally mapping out alternate routes she could take to class; wondering if she could feasibly pass Leblanc on her way to University.

She would definitely be coming again.

.

The cafe provided a safe haven for Makoto when mid-terms rolled around.

Even having stayed at the top of her year and been entrenched in regular study sessions for as long as she could remember, the academic demands of University still gave Makoto challenge.

She was now competing against some of the best performing students from across the country, many of whom; like her; had scored the highest grades in elite prep schools. Makoto still held the coveted, number one spot but was having to work harder than she ever had before to maintain it.

Though normally favouring the library to study, Makoto had opted to avoid heading there for today. The facilities were packed out at this time of year, with students all trying desperately to fit in a last-minute binge of the term's curriculum, praying that the information would stick.

Finding a place to sit would be a nightmare. 

The ambiance of Leblanc, however, would allow her the concentration necessary for one last refresher of notes for her next exam. As well as a much-needed shot of caffeine.

"Oh. Welcome."

The unfamiliar voice startled Makoto, drawing her to a person behind the counter she did not recognise. Dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans; he peered towards her, his dark, shaggy head masked by glasses.

He was young, much closer to her in age than Sakura-san; or any of the cafe's regular clientele, for that matter. Seeming out of place amidst the shop's rather rustic decor.

Makoto wondered, momentarily, if she had mistakenly stepped through the wrong door, the evening having coated the streets in darkness.

Yet her eyes carried over the familiar canisters of beans and spices, suddenly enveloping her again in that eerie, nervous energy she had felt before. This sense of being out of place that Makoto thought she had managed to dispel. As though, in this stranger’s presence, the safe haven she had sought was slowly slipping away, an alien replica forming in its place.

"H- hello," she ventured after a moment. "Is- Is Boss around?"

The man behind the counter shock his head, black waves of hair rustling slightly with the movement.

"He had to step out for a moment. Left me in charge to run the store."

"Oh."

While the young man seemed pleasant enough, any further thought of conversation was stifled by Makoto's struggle placing the young man before her.

From the apron, and his position behind the counter, it was obvious he was working here. Yet, Makoto found this confusing. She had thought Sakura-san ran a one-man operation. Leblanc didn't seem like it did the business to afford, or even warrant, other employees.

Still, no other possible explanation could come to her. The only family Boss had mentioned to her had been a daughter, so this couldn't have been relative of his.

As she usually stopped by in the morning, it made sense that she wouldn't have seen him, until now.

Conscious suddenly that she had been standing, silently pondering, for several seconds; the part-timer still watching her expectantly; Makoto flushed.

"W- well, in that case. May I have a cup of Jamaican Blue?"

It was the first blend Boss had made for her. In a way, the aroma and flavour that had forged her connection to the Cafe and Boss. Perhaps retracing that palette would remind her of the comfort this room had brought her, making her feel home in her own skin and extending an olive branch to the stranger before her.

Blossoming perhaps a similarly fruitful relationship.

"Sure thing," the barista saluted. "I can't promise my coffee will be as good as Boss', but I am learning."

Though she wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, his words held true. His coffee was not as refined as Boss’. Still, it was familiar in its care, in the depth of its flavour profile. As she sipped from the cup with a contented sigh, it was clear to Makoto that he had followed the man’s instructions closely and would bud into a fine protégé.  

"So, what brings you here tonight?" The barista asked her between sips.

Normally such a conversation might bother Makoto, particularly when she had plans to study, but the man's easy smile and soothing timbre were welcome. Setting down her cup, she replied.

"I'm in the middle of exams at Tokyo University. I was hoping to get some last-minute revision in and needed the kick."

"Tokyo, huh? Isn't this kind out of your way? Or do you live around here?"

"No, I don’t. But the coffee is worth it. It's ruined me for anything else in the city."

"Really?" He chuckled. "Perhaps I could teach you then? That way you don't have to keep coming here."

Makoto smiled softly at the man's quip, but in all honesty she enjoyed coming here. Despite the laborious trips and extra train fare, sitting and savouring each finely prepared roast made it worthwhile. The store had a different atmosphere from anywhere else in the city.

"Oh, no. I couldn't trouble you. I don't have the equipment at home anyway."

She could only imagine how much she would need to save to be able to afford a proper coffee siphon like that. Nor where she could source beans the quality that Sakura-san used.

"Oh yeah, that's a problem." The part-timer nodded, scratching his head. "Still, it couldn't hurt to try."

Makoto's fingers stroked against her chin, weighing the temptation in her mind.

Though she had more pressing obligations, she couldn't deny her curiosity. She had watched Sakura-san prepare coffee many times and still hadn't been able to wrap her head around everything it involved.

"Are you sure it’s okay?"

"Why not?" The barista shrugged. "It's pretty much dead here, anyway."

Her books and plans to study momentarily forgotten, Makoto set her bag down; slipping on the apron that was handed to her in its place.

He led her meticulously through the process. Measuring out and grinding the coffee, using timers and thermometers to make sure everything was precise. Even breaking things down slowly, Makoto was a little overwhelmed.

To think that Sakura-san and his apprentice had to recall such an involved recipe off hand, all to make a single cup of coffee.

It was no wonder why they were of such quality. The love and effort that was devoted to each blend could not be substituted.  

His tutoring was disrupted by bells tinkered as the front door opened. Heart catching in her throat, Makoto turned as Sakura-san took her in; apron and all; with a look of bewilderment.

“Niijima-san? What are you doing here?” His employee waved from beside her with a sheepish grin “And you?

As Makoto attempted to stammer out an explanation, Sakura-san’s eyes narrowed at the space between, a mischievous, knowing glimmer crossing his features. 

"Oh. I’m sorry,” He said, voice suddenly devoid of any confusion.  “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Boss, I-” Makoto's head bowed, apprehensive to meet his gaze.

“Please, don’t leave on my account. This old man’ll get out of your hair. Just make sure you lock up, kid.”

Though she wasn’t looking directly towards him, from her periphery, she could’ve sworn she caught Boss winking behind the counter, in their direction.

Puzzled, she glanced over at the man beside her who shrugged, a breathless laugh trailing from his lips.

It struck her as odd that the part-timer didn’t seem at all concerned about being caught by Boss in such a manner.

“I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t in any trouble.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” His hand waved, non-plussed. “I doubt he’s gonna fire me flirting with a customer. If anything, he’s probably pleased.”

“Y- you were flirting with me?”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t the most conventional method, but...” He blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s what I was going for”

“Oh. I- I see.”

Though she hadn’t thought anything of it, in hindsight, it seemed a rather strange offer to make out of the blue. From the way they had been standing close to one another, his hands helping to guide her through each step. Now that he had clarified, it seemed obvious.  

Shrinking in on herself from embarrassment, Makoto struggled to peel her gaze from the floor. The chain of events she had just endured leaving her mortified.

"It's uh... It's getting late. I might take this to go, if that’s alright.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Makoto wasn't even sure if Leblanc offered take-away drinks, typically, but the barista nonetheless retrieved a Styrofoam cup from behind the counter. Hands dipping into his pocket, he fished out a black marker and began to scrawl something on the side of the cup, pausing briefly to glance up at her.

“You know, I never caught your name.”

“Huh? Oh, it's Niijima. Niijima Makoto.”

Makoto frowned, wondering what reason he could possibly need her name for. She was the only one in the store, there wouldn't be any need for him to call it out.

“I'm Amamiya Ren.” He replied as he set the cup back down and began pouring out her coffee. “Pleased to meet you, Niijima-san. Seeing as you're a regular here, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.”

Ren was careful to turn the cup away as he handed it over, shielding whatever he'd written from view. Bursting with curiosity, Makoto held off the urge to turn it around until she'd made it outside, beyond the reach of his gaze.

She was surprised to find printed there carefully was not her name but a series of digits – his number, presumably.

Rolling her eyes, a fond smile lifted Makoto's expression as she took another sip; the rich taste seeping tantalisingly between her lips.

She would definitely be coming back.

[dragongeek1]

Dragon Age Lovers- Day 4, Napping Together

Obviously this prompt had to be some Modern AU Fenhawke-- it’s too perfect. Also nearly the exact opposite to the last LG ficlet I posted, which amuses me. I love this though and I had a lot of fun with it, especially throwing in Anders too, so I hope you enjoy! My tired boys finally get a nap!

Lyrium Ghosts (Modern AU) Garrett Hawke x Fenris

“Fen, I’m home,” Hawke dragged himself over the threshold into the apartment and threw his keys into the bowl by the door. He groaned and pushed both his hands into his hair and shook it vigorously, which was perfectly cathartic and helped him feel slightly less shitty. He’d driven back and forth across Kirkwall all day, juggling a job for Varric and one for Elegant that sent him to opposite ends of the city-- twice. He was, simply put, done with the day. “Do you think I can bill a client for gas money?”

“Depends on the client,” Fenris answered drily. Hawke stepped out of the entryway and found his partner perched at the kitchen breakfast bar, book in one hand and a mug in the other. Fenris immediately broke into an amused smirk when he saw Hawke’s hair, and it filled Garrett’s chest with warmth. “Well. That’s certainly a look.”

“You think? I wear this shirt all the time, but thanks.” He found himself grinning back, which sort of ruined what was supposed to be a deadpan response.

“Your hair, idiot,” Fenris had that soft look in his eyes, the one he always got when he used his favorite term of endearment for his boyfriend. Hawke leaned over the counter to brush a kiss against the elf’s cheek, and Fenris took advantage to smooth down his hair. “Mad scientist springs to mind. Or maybe just mad.”

“Probably,” Garrett let him fuss for a moment before interrupting to kiss Fenris properly, and suddenly his long day was forgotten. “Fenris-- will you be the Igor to my Dr. Frankenstein?”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but one corner of his mouth was still curved up in a smile. “That may be the most romantic thing you’ve said to me, Hawke.” He brushed down Hawke’s hair again, but the gesture was one of tenderness rather than trying to fix it.

“That’s me. Connoisseur of romance.” Fenris chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the scar on the bridge of his nose. Garrett would have happily melted under the warmth and affection of Fenris’ touches, but he was still leaning over the counter and it wasn’t the most comfortable position. “Come sit with me, I can be romantic on the couch, too.” His back protested when he stood up straight, reminding Hawke of how tired he was. He trudged into the living room and half-sat, half-fell onto the couch, quickly kicking off his boots. Garrett leaned into the corner of the couch with a groan, one arm thrown over the back and one leg up on the couch, the other on the floor.

Fenris came in after, mug abandoned in the kitchen but with his book still in hand. “Are you alright?” He tucked himself against Hawke’s chest and shoulder in the space created, pulling his feet onto the couch.

Garrett wrapped his arm around Fenris and smiled, pressing a kiss to his white hair. He loved getting to hold Fenris close and cuddle him like this. “Mhm, had a long day is all. Better, now. How was your day, love?”

He hummed and leaned back into Hawke’s chest, pillowing his head in the crook of the larger man’s shoulder. “Largely uninteresting, yet tiring. I am glad to have you home.”

Garrett nudged Fenris’ temple with his nose until he turned his head, then kissed him softly. It was lazy and slow, and Fenris tasted like the coffee he’d had earlier, and it was perfect. “Love you,” Hawke mumbled, their foreheads pressed together.

“And I you,” Fenris whispered back, pressing another gentle kiss to the stubble on Hawke’s jaw before settling back into his shoulder and opening his book. Feeling extremely content, Garrett nuzzled Fenris’ hair and pillowed his cheek on the man’s head before abruptly yawning. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” Apparently Fenris noticed.

“That’s rich, seeing as you’re the one currently using me as a pillow.” He yawned again.

Garrett couldn’t see it, but he could picture Fenris raising those dark eyebrows in response. “I’m not the one in danger of falling asleep.”

“Neither am I, so we’re even.”

~

Anders sighed. He’d texted Hawke half an hour ago and still hadn’t heard back. It was one of the semi-periodic ‘eat dinner with Hawke and Fenris nights,’ or as Hawke liked to put it, ‘feed the starving stray cat night.’ Hawke had texted him earlier that afternoon to come over around 7, and it was now 7:30. So he should have been off work, and he usually wasn’t this tardy in replying to a text. Anders sighed again. “I guess I can just go up there. He did say seven,”  He said to his own cat. Justice only blinked at him. “Make sure he hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You know how he is.”

The tabby blinked at him again slowly and Anders stood. He left his apartment and jogged up the stairs, stopping at Hawke’s door but thinking better about barging in. More often than not Hawke left it unlocked, in part because Anders came by with some frequency and lived downstairs, and eventually Fenris had even gotten used to his random visits. But there could be a reason Hawke wasn’t answering the phone. Maker, the last thing Anders needed was to walk in on his friends having sex.

He knocked. There was no answer. “Hawke?” He knocked again. When Anders didn’t hear anything after several seconds, he sighed and put his hand back on the doorknob. Please don’t let them be having sex, Anders thought as he opened the door.

“Hawke, Fenris? Are you two decent?” He called as he walked in, stopping to listen as he closed the door. No answer, but nothing else he could hear, either. Anders tried not to feel a sense of dread as he stepped into the apartment. “Anyone home or are you two-- oh.”

They were dead asleep on the couch. Hawke had one foot on the ground and one arm hanging off the side, the other curled around Fenris’ shoulders. Fenris was basically on top of Hawke and using his chest as a pillow, and a book lay discarded on the floor nearby. Anders couldn’t help grinning at the sight. Dorks. Knowing them, it was probably a much-needed nap though. Anders snapped a picture on his phone and quickly sent it to Isabela and Merrill before saving it, then picked up a light blanket from Fenris’ armchair and carefully threw it over them. Neither even stirred, a testament to their exhaustion. Anders raided their freezer for some of the pre-made stuff Hawke always had saved, and quietly returned to his own apartment.

[crimsonblackrose]

I’m officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It’s weird. Very very weird but I feel like there’s some stable ground beneath my feet. It just feels nice to not be living out of a suitcase that’s mostly business professional clothing and be reunited with comfy college t-shirts. I’ve gone through all of my stuff, mostly organized it, and set up a bookcase. As a lifelong bookworm and someone who went to college for writing, I have a lot of books. And I haven’t read all of those books. So I decided books I haven’t read or don’t remember reading will go on the bookcase. The rest will stay in their boxes.

My plan when I was expecting to come home pre-pandemic was to frequent the library but try and focus on the books I haven’t read yet that I own. I figured if there were things I desperately wanted to read that I couldn’t get at the library I’d get it for my e-reader or maybe at the store after getting a job. But then the pandemic happened and our library has only recently opened so e-reader and my TBR bookcase should get me through for a while. (Plus I can always grab something off of my aunt or uncle’s bookshelves if I need to branch out. They’ve already given me recommendations.)

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri by Dante Alighieri. This book is too big to fit on the shelves so it’s chilling at the top with my Korean Count of Monte Cristo musical book. This is one of my Dad’s books that he gave me when he moved. I’m sure I missed more that are in a box in the basement. I organized but I have lot of books so I know I missed things.f

So buckle up here’s all the books on my bookcase in no particular order. Shelf #!.

The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula K. Le Guin is a staple author for fantasy and I thought for sure I’d read this but I wasn’t 100% sure so I grabbed it anyway.

Monsterkind by Taylor C. I kickstarted this a long time ago and it’s one of the things in my boxes that I didn’t realize I had because I’m pretty sure it arrived while I was in Korea. I’ve sadly missed the cut off for book two but am pretty excited to jump into this.

This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel. I don’t know when or where I got it but looking at the tag line I can see why I found it intriguing “The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein” sounds fun.

And Another thing… Douglas Adams Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Part six of Three by Eoin Colfer. Fun fact when I was in elementary through high school I read everything Eoin Colfer I could get my hands on and I loved The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and everything I’ve read by Douglas Adams so this was a no brainer. Though I haven’t read it because I guess I don’t know what it is.Aa sequel? A prequel? Something in between? No idea, it’ll be a fun adventure.

What You Don’t Know About Men by Michael Burke. This is one of those books where I’m just staring at it wondering where it came from and why I have it.  It is signed and after deep diving my own Instagram it’s a book from college. But whether I met the author at an event, something I was volunteering for or at school is beyond me.

Gramarye City by Paul Revere Lester. This is another signed book, but I’m pretty sure it’s self published since there was nothing about it on Goodreads. Could be wrong. But this one I don’t know if it’s from high school writer’s club or what since it, like the last one references my own writing and cheers me on in the note with the signing.

Fiery Dark Secret by Emma Bown Meyer this one is also signed but doesn’t reference my own writing or any sort of cheering me on so who knows. I’m going to assume this is from a library event where the authors came and signed their books from when I was in high school.

Hush Girls by Emily Hansen. Another signed book. You could guess that I don’t read books I get signed but in this case this came out this year and it’s one of the few books I’ve recently purchased. Emily Hansen was one of my cohorts and I try my best to support my cohorts.

Lost in the City by Edward P. Jones, did I get this book because it was recommended reading in college or because it looks cool or was it gifted to me? No clue.

Zombies vs Unicorns. This is a collection of short stories about Zombies versus Unicorns. So each author picked a team and wrote a story to try and grab the reader to their side and some of my favorite authors are in this collection and it’s just super cool looking so I’m greatly looking forward to reading it.

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris, oh this book hasn’t been read out of pure spite. My department in college had this thing where we had to go and attend “literary” events and then write about them as part of our grade. The problem being there were plenty of literary events for people over the age of 21. So many readings and events that our teachers recommended did not work for those of us under the age of 21 who weren’t allowed in the bars. For one of these my friend said that a famous author had an event at Borders (RIP) on the other end of the city from where we lived. So a small group of us went all the way out to that Borders realized we weren’t early enough to sit in on the discussion which was then sold out and our best and final bet was to get a number for the book signing. So we did that and got dinner nearby. My friends had books but I had nothing to get signed. This book was one of the few ones out and on sale so I bought it and then spent the many hours left waiting in that line reading manga.

Here’s the thing. Kudos to David Sedaris’s work ethic. He’s one of those authors who will stay until everyone in line goes through as long as the place is willing to stay open. Which is super cool. But for me, a college kid who was utterly exhausted and had never even heard of the author before, showed up at 3am after waiting in line for ages to learn Mr. Sedaris either requests a joke or gives you a joke when he meets you. I really really just wanted to get the book signed so I could go back to my dorm and sleep and then write up my journal entry for class. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. And my humor isn’t really okay with cancer jokes at any time let alone 3am. So I haven’t read this book. It’s been on my shelves for ages, moved from dorm room to dorm room to boxes and forgotten. But it’s signed. And even though I’m still very bitter I’m willing to give it a shot. But I don’t have high hopes.

Listen to the Echos, The Ray Bradbury Interviews by Sam Weller, to continue with the books I’m bitter about and have been putting off reading. This book is also signed and the signing is the part that I’m a little bitter about. Again backstory time. So there’s two things you should know. One is that my school would host some pretty cool events from time to time with dinners and what not with authors or other people in the arts and one of my best college friends and her family went to this school fancy dinner at, I believe, the school’s President’s home and they very sweetly got me this book. What kills me on the inside is the signing.

Lauren!

A gift from the —– family!

Live Forever!

Sam Weller

Now you might be like well it is a gift, right? True. But the kicker. The painful kicker was that Sam Weller was my teacher. I was in his Ray Bradbury class at the time this was signed. I spent an entire semester learning about what made Ray Bradbury who he was and how his short stories and works created a ripple effect that gave us so many beloved movies, stories and idioms we have today. I loved that class. I planned to get this book myself and get it signed because I enjoyed it and the teacher so much. And this is the equivalent of getting “Have a great summer” in your yearbook. Now to be real, he probably didn’t put two and two together and at some point, I could’ve tried to get it re-signed but I didn’t. I should’ve, I wish I did. Because I remember laughing about it and taking the book to class but I chickened out. I think, in all honesty, it has to do with teachers who make huge impacts on you and then forgetting who you are when you’re not in class with them. My college departmental advisor just completely forgot who I was when I went to visit after graduating. I get it. I do, but it sure does sting.

Breverton’s Nautical Curiosities by Terry Breverton which is a delightful book about nautical things, another passion of mine from growing up. I’ve never sat down and read it but I’ve flipped through it many a time.

Feeding Hannibal a Connoisseur’s Cookbook by Janice Poon. I loved this TV show and I’m forever in awe of Janice Poon and how she made the food look appetizing but also vaguely human (gross, very gross) while also edible for the cast. I bought this in Korea at the Seoul Comic Con and brought it home.

Healing Herbal Teas: A Complete Guid to Making Delicious, Healthful Beverages by Brigitte Mars, A.H.G. I don’t know if you know this but I love tea. I’m warming up to coffee in the same way I am to booze, as long as I don’t taste it we’re good. But with tea I’m obsessed. This was a gift. I haven’t set about reading it but I am curious about it.

Onto shelf #2

East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I’m not sure if other majors have this but my department while I was there was pretty obsessed with this book. Not teacher’s necessarily but my cohorts talked about it a lot and said they loved it or talked about how it shaped them. So I bought it. Don’t know why since one of the go-to books that drew a lot of students to our school and department because the teacher worked there  creeped me out but hey, willing to give this massive book a try.

The Revenge of the Shadow King by Derek Benz and J.S. Lewis. This is a book that’s been on my shelf a long time. Probably since around when it came out in 2005 that I just kept putting off reading even though I knew I wanted to read it. I’m a sucker for fantasy novels with fey or even a twisty dark vibe to them.

Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev. I’m going to be honest, bought this book because of the cover. It was a pretty art style with faeries of some kind.

The Magicina of Hoad by Margaret Mahy, for a paperback this book is super shiny. Not sure if that’s why I got it or because anything genre tended to grab my attention in high school.

Timeline by Michael Crichton. In my first year of college, my group of friends and I had a secret Santa and the person who had me didn’t have a clue what to get me except books. So he decided to do one of my favorite things ever which was to get me some books that were his favorites. This is one of them that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.

Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan. I’ve been saving this one. I spent most of high school and college devouring any nightmarish adventure Darren Shan concocted. The Thin Executioner is still one of my favorites despite being so ghastly. This one though I remember spotting at the store and going “how dare no one tell me he’d come out with a new book?” And grabbing it. However after living overseas so long I’m sure I’m behind on a lot of books and authors I used to keep up to date on before.

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Sorceress, The Necromancer and the Magician by Michael Scott. You may remember I’ve read the first in this series and did not enjoy it. But I heard from some other readers that the series gets better and since I have these three books as hard backs which aren’t cheap I’m determined to read them and give them a shot before…probably donating them.

Lost in Space by Ben Tanser. My college hosted a literary event every year while I was there called Story Week. They invited authors and publishers and agents to celebrate books and share what they knew and it was free. As a person who volunteered for it several times it means I’m not sure if I bought all the books I own or if I just got some of the books and this is one of them. I know the publisher was big with our school, our teachers and faculty loved Curbside Splendor, but again I don’t know. This isn’t signed so I think it’s a case of I got it to better understand the publisher and then didn’t get around to reading it because I had big paper’s due like every other day and required reading as well as job and club responsibilities. How I got any fun reading done is beyond me.

The Old Neighborhood by Bill Hillmann is one that I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t read before now. It’s signed and the author came to class to talk to us about his work because he was good friends with our teacher. He seemed pretty cool and still does. He usually does the Running of the Bulls in Spain and actually got pretty injured one year and made international news.

Where’d you go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I got this book for free as part of “World Book Night U.S. April 23, 2014” which is pretty cool but I did not read it when I think I was supposed to. Nearly over 6 years late on that one. Sorry World Book Night.

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I don’t know about this one. Did I get it because movies were being adapted of Ayn Rand’s work? Did I get it because people were talking about it? Did I get it just out of curiosity because her work is so polarising and pretty much as hated as Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey were within my cohort? Was it on a list of books to read? Not a clue. I’ve read Atlas Shrugged since and looking at the size of this book it’s going to be a long journey of tiny print.

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. My local public library when I was growing up would participate in a book event where they’d pick a book and then everyone could sign up for that book and they’d host events related to it. Like a big massive book club. Chicago did it too with Neverwhere and many others. I signed up, got the book and then…didn’t read it.

The Princess and the Pirates: The Timelight Stone by Mio Chizuru. This book is a library book. A high school library book that they stamped with rejected and removed all the stuff on it. I assume I got this from a book sale of our library getting rid of books or the librarian just told me she was getting rid of books and since I was working there during my free periods repairing books. The bonus I guess of being a constant presence. It looks like manga but it’s actually a novel, so it’ll be interesting.

Emerald Death by Bill Craig I’m not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure this was from my childhood public library again. It’s signed and I think it was from one of the author events.

The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet this is like Lost in Space. I bought this so I could better understand the publication because my genre teachers were full of praise for Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and honestly loved the style. But got too busy to read it. I’m sure I have another collection or two for a different publisher in my boxes somewhere but that can wait. I’ve never really been one to read anthologies or collections of short stories so these types of books usually fall a bit on my TBR list. But I should read them.

Push and The Kid by Sapphire. Both of these are signed and were from a literary event while I was in college through the Harold Washington Library. I think I attended an interview at the library where she discussed her work. From what I remember I know these books aren’t going to be the happiest so I am pretty sure that’s why I’ve set them aside.

The final shelf time.

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.  I borrowed this book in high school from my dad because we were supposed to read it in English and then…never did. I don’t know why. We probably we got too busy in the other books we were supposed to read that we also never finished. Like Julius Ceaser by Shakespeare that we just stopped reading after he died. So, thank you, Dad, for letting me keep it along with all the others.

The Three Theban Plays by Sophocles, this book is pretty beaten up but I always grab classics even if 70% of the time I hate them. This was probably for a class, quite possibly the most frustrating class I ever took, or I found it cheap somewhere.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo I picked this up in Paris. Pretty sure I read some copy of this in high school in French and I’ve seen the musical in Korean and the movie version as well as the old film of the musical my French teacher had…but we’ll see how I remember it as I go with the translated English.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. I also got this in Paris. I’ve never read it but after learning about how it single handedly saved Notre Dame I feel like I have to.

Redwall: The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques. This is the last book Brain Jacques wrote that was published posthumously. I loved Redwall so much and I’m pretty sure I’ve read almost every novel Brian Jacques wrote. When he died I was heartbroken and I got the book but just couldn’t bring myself to read it.

Artemis Fowl the Atlantis Complex by Eoin Colfer, I loved the Artemis Fowl series when I was younger and I really want to jump into this book which is book 7 in the series but I think I’m going to have to go back through my boxes and find the rest of them before reading book seven. It’s been waaaayyyy too long.

The Faeman Quest by Herbie Brennan is another series I absolutely adored when I was younger. Again it’s another where it’s been so long I’ll probably have to re-read the previous books in The Faerie Wars Chronicles to fully understand what’s going on here.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. Up to this point I was fairly good at reading all of Neil Gaiman’s works. And attending any event he had in Chicago. This one I remember going to with a bunch of friends at the Music Box theater and then staying up late with them to get it signed. It was a fun event but I was saving it to read later since it’s a small book.

Silas Marner by George Eliot not sure where this one came from but I haven’t read it so here it is. I recognize the title though but don’t know why.

A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix. I love books by Garth Nix he’s one of those authors in Zombies vs Unicorns but I haven’t gotten around to reading this one or even finishing the series of his I started and loved when I was younger. (I don’t like things to end)

Swords of Riverside by Ellen Kushner. This has harlequin romance vibes from the cover but also older fantasy/historical novel vibes. Don’t know where I got it or why but it’ll be interesting for sure. Very curious to see which it falls into or if just the long hair blown back by invisible wind on the male character was just for fun.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, middle school/high school me might not have jumped on the Uglies train whenever one else did but I apparently went ahead and got this book by the author. (Fun fact he’s also in Zombies vs Unicorns). I assume I grabbed it because of the familiar author name and the steampunk vibe of the cover.

Seven Sorcerers by Caro King has a spooky-looking cover with magic vibes, my go to when I was younger.

Changeling by Delia Sherman, when I tell you any sort of fantasy fey adventure or magic novel usually ended up on my shelf just because it fell into that category I’m not joking. This cover is kinda creepy and weird but I can see why I got it because of the title. Oh boy.

These are the books that I plan to read for the most part of the rest of this year. Mixing in e-books and maybe some old ones. There are more books on my bookcase but those are reference or books I’ve read but didn’t remember until I started making this list and realized I had. I also have several books that I didn’t realize were book 6 of a series where I haven’t read or own book one through five. So that’s going to require being set aside until I can check books out from the library. (I’m putting it off because I’m trying to figure out how to renew my library card that’s been inactive for over 5 years during a pandemic)

Anyway wish me luck.

What are some books you’ve had on your shelf for a long time and haven’t gotten rid of but also haven’t read yet?

TBR Bookcase tour I'm officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It's weird. Very very weird but I feel like there's some stable ground beneath my feet.

[scarletraven1001]

Retribution

[Book 1] [Chapter 1]

Summary: Raised in the shadows, Vegeta’s sole purpose in life was to avenge the destruction of his family. The key to his victory laid in the hands of Bulma, the daughter of the enemy, and not even the strange connection he feels with her will keep him from raining his furious retribution upon all who had dared cross his bloodline.

A Vegebul Mafia AU Fic, for the @vegebulocracy Big Bang Challenge, 2018

Story Rating: E

Chapter Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Also on Ao3

All Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

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Notes: Hello! Welcome to my contribution to the Vegebulocracy (VBO) Big Bang! This has been super fun (though at times rather difficult) to write and I am so excited to share this with all of you today! This story is complete, and I will be posting all chapters until the 24th of December. I would like to thank the incredible, amazing @blacksheep1105​ for her help as a Beta for this story, as without her help, this fic would not be anywhere near the story that it is right now! Thank you, girl! And to all of you, please check out Blacksheep's stories! With that, please do let me know what you think, for this first chapter of Retribution: Book 1!

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Chapter 1

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The coffee was fantastic.

He was no connoisseur – far from it, in fact – but he could definitely see that the tiny coffee shop that he had been sitting at for the past hour had the potential to become a big business if it kept making coffee this good.

The aroma of it was exquisite. The taste, liquid gold on his tongue, both soothed and kept him alert at the same time.

And Vegeta Saiyan needed to be alert, for what he was about to do.

He straightened his suit, adjusting his tie and checking his coat as he watched his target stroll leisurely up the street.

She was without a care in the world, her blue hair in a loose ponytail that flowed whimsically down her back. Her brilliant blue eyes shone like the most precious of sapphires, and her full pink lips beckoned like the petals of the rarest blossoms.

Her pale skin, vibrant even in the dying light of the twilight sun, was a clear indication of her wealthy upbringing.

Her family’s wealth… that should have been his.

That carefree manner, and the easy life that had given her all the things her heart had desired… those should have been his.

Resentment bubbled up from the deepest pits of his hardened heart, and he straightened as he watched her take her clueless steps into the comfortable apartment building where she resided.

He seethed, his hands clutching convulsively around his coffee mug, teeth grinding in his rage and excitement.

She was probably not even aware of the fact that she had been part of the conspiracy that had brought about the destruction of his family, the horrendous murders that had taken away everything that he had known and loved.

Oh, but she will know.

If all went well, before the night gives way to the next dawn, he will begin his revenge.

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Bulma sighed as she dropped her purse onto a small table at her apartment’s entryway, cursing slightly as the contents spilled out from its broken zipper.

She really ought to replace that bag.

But she didn’t have the will to, as it was one of the little knick knacks left behind by her mother, Panchy, after she passed away a few years ago.

It had already been rather well-used before Bulma had received it, as Panchy had been very fond of it as well. Bulma had hinted at liking the design, and her mother had promptly gifted it to her the next day.

The yellow leather bag was starting to grow too worn for use, and if Bulma were being honest to herself, the bag really was broken already.

Yet, broken or not, the one thing that she can never let go of, was the small, handwritten note that her mother had scribbled onto the main pocket inside.

Live well and stay beautiful, my baby girl.

Bulma had already lost so many people from her life, that she really didn’t want to start losing their mementos, as well.

She had left her home town of West City behind, as it had given her too many painful memories. To cope with her losses, she had moved to East City, where she began to work as a free contractor for rebuilding houses and infrastructure damaged by a recent earthquake that destroyed most of the downtown city proper. She received only food and transportation allowances, and was more than happy to keep it that way.

It wasn’t that she was generous… Working for next to nothing was her way of atoning for the sins that she knew that her family had been involved in for several generations.

She possessed a brilliant mind, and it did not take much for her to realize that her mother’s family, and now her own father, were involved in the workings of a crime syndicate.

Her father, Dr. Trunks Briefs, was a scientist who had occasionally dabbled in politics, under the stern and watchful influence of the West City Syndicate.

This was another reason why she had left West: To escape the syndicate. It was a convoluted group of corrupt officials and crime lords who had been in and out of the Briefs household since before the moment she had drawn her first breath.

Releasing a wide yawn, Bulma headed for her bedroom, intent on changing out of the denim jeans and simple white shirt that she had worn to work.

She was barely out of the living room when she heard her mobile phone ringing, and it took less than a moment for the ringtone to register in her mind and fire adrenaline through her veins.

It was a unique ringer tone that she had set for a private number that no one but her and her father knew about. He never used it, unless there was an absolute emergency.  

She lunged forward, tripping over her own feet in her haste, and immediately answered.

“Hello,” she greeted, breathless from the panic that now surged within her body.

“Bulma!”

He sounded stressed, ragged… he was a little breathless, from what Bulma could tell, and she immediately knew something major had come up.

“Dad? Is everything alright?”

“No, baby,” he said, and Bulma’s hand flew to her chest, trying to still her now erratic heartbeats.

“What happened? Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yes, but you won’t be!” he said urgently. “I need you to get out of your apartment, right now. I have received intel that some people are after you. You need to get out, now!”

Her panic dwindled slightly at the sheer ridiculousness of her father’s claim.

However, his words made her take a glance around the room, her eyes that had been raised in the heart of danger making a quick sweep of her surroundings and quickly noting the locked doors and reinforced windows.

“Dad, that’s impossible,” she said brightly into the receiver, even while her brows furrowed in concern. “This flat isn’t even named after me. I’m not using my real name here!”

“That doesn’t matter! Leave, now!” he yelled, his desperation bleeding into his shouted words. “Go into the woods, whatever. I am sending men to fetch you right now.”

This was not the first time that her father had been so paranoid, and Bulma was skeptical.

“Dad, really, I don’t think-”

Bulma cut herself off with a shrill little scream, when the lights in her room suddenly turned off, plunging her into pitch blackness.

“A power outage?” she thought in confusion.

“Bulma!” her father screamed.

“Dad, I’m fine!” she placated. “The lights just went out all of a sudden. Lemme grab my flashlight-”

“No!” Dr. Briefs yelled. “Don’t! If the lights went out, that means they are there, Bulma! You need to go! Walk in the shadows… draw no attention to yourself. Get out of there, now!”

This time, she believed him, and did not need to be told twice.

“I will call you when I get to safety,” she said, turning off the call.

She grabbed her bag, felt around for her keys and wallet, and she stuffed those and her phone into her pockets before she made a break for the door.

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The phone vibrating in his hand was their signal.

The power had been cut, and it was time to make their move.

Vegeta stood in the lobby of the apartment building, watching the small bit of panic on the patrons’ faces as the lights went down.

They needn’t worry… it was not them that he was coming for.

The public addressed system pinged, and a clear voice rang out to address the residents.

“All residents, please vacate the building,” it called. “We are experiencing technical difficulties in the electrical circuitry. We are now working to restore the power. We advise you to vacate to ensure your safety. ”

The same message was repeated twice more as the small communication link in his ear beeped.

“We’re in, big brother ,” a voice said in his ear, almost cheerful-sounding in spite of the serious nature of events. “Emergency lines are down, as well.”

“Good job, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, his deeper baritone humming into the line. “Lapiz? Are you ready?”

“Of course,” a smooth, calm voice called in. “Piccolo and I are underground. Waiting for your move, Prince.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled as he began to walk in the opposite direction of all the tenants rushing to leave the building.

A staff member was ushering people out, telling them to vacate due to a short circuit in the building, and Vegeta smirked as he recognized the guy as one of the people he had paid off to help let them into the maintenance rooms.

He smirked as he made his way to a side room, leading into the emergency maintenance stairwell. He calmly climbed the stairs, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he approached the correct floor.

She was still there. He could practically feel her.

A flow of people greeted him as he alighted on the fifth floor, their excited chatter annoying him, the beams from their flashlights blinding him as they flashed across his face while they moved.

Vegeta knew that Briefs would tell her not to use a flashlight. The old man was predictable, that way.

A small movement off to his left alerted him to a slight, dark silhouette trying to make its way through the darkness.

He pulled his night vision glasses out of his coat pocket even though honestly, he didn’t truly need them quite yet.

Even in the pitch-black halls, he would recognize that strangely-colored fall of hair, anywhere.

With a devilish smirk, he begins the chase.

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Trying to navigate the halls in the dark was hell.

She took tiny, measured steps, hands feeling along the walls as she did her hardest to not trip over anything.

It had been easier to move around when she was still among the people who had their lighting implements on, but as she strode further away from the flow, she realized that she may have made a mistake.

She had thought, if people were after her, they would probably try to find her among the sea of people. Nobody would have guessed that she would try to make her way out using the smaller stairwell in the maintenance areas.  

“For a genius, I could be really dumb sometimes,” she muttered, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness.

She could make out the faint outline of a door, and knew from the blueprints that she had of the building that this was the main entryway to the maintenance areas.

Slowly, she turned the knob, not making a sound.

She closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath before she leaned back against the wall beside the door.  

Bulma looked around, realizing with trepidation that something was… off.

This was the maintenance area. She had expected the maintenance men to be swarming this place, trying to fix the broken circuits so they could restore power to the building.

Why then… was it empty?

Not a sound, not a soul in sight.

Her heart beat harshly within her chest, as she began to suspect that, in her over-thinking her escape, she may have screwed herself, instead.

The soft click of the door behind her, followed by the soft sound of hushed footsteps that like her, remained unguided by light, confirmed her suspicions.

Suppressing a gasp, Bulma tried to find a place to hide, feeling around for any apparatus large enough for her to plaster herself against.

To her horror, the silhouette of the intruder started walking closer.

She took off in a panic, trying her best to run in the pitch black darkness, holding in her panting breaths as she fought to clear her mind, to think…

She was Bulma Briefs, and she refused to acknowledge that she somehow may have been outsmarted by one of her father’s thuggish rivals.

Her keys jingled softly in her pocket, but in the absolute stillness of the dark, the sound seemed as loud as sirens to her terrified ears.

As if hearing her distress, the person chasing her mocked her by stomping once, a little loudly, almost making her shriek.

Her hands groped in the darkness before her, and on impulse, she felt around her pocket, grasping at the tiny charm that held her noisy keys together.

Her lucky charm. An old, round spaceship toy that she had turned into a keychain as a memento of her dearest friend that she had lost when they were just children. For all the years after he had died, having the toy with her made her feel like he was still right there, and with her heart in her throat, she begged the heavens for him to keep her safe once again.

She hoped against hope, that he was still watching over her, right at that moment.

Her footsteps sounded too loud and heavy to her ears, and she was sure that the person chasing her could find her on the sound of her footfalls alone.

She turned a corner, and she let out a loud, desperate gasp when her hands pushed forward…

And found a solid, brick wall.

She was trapped.

The despair went through her just as she felt the thick, large hands grab hold of her shoulders, and she finally let out a scream as she tried to struggle away from her captor.

“Kyaaa!” she yelled “No! Don’t touch me!”

The person let out a snicker, a low, man’s voice that sent terrified shivers up her spine, before he effortlessly pulled her by the waist with a single arm, and with the other hand, she felt him lift a cold metal cylinder to her head.

A gun.

Her screaming subsided with a choke, her hands helplessly flying towards her chest to still the erratic beating of her heart.

“Please,” she whispered, “Don’t shoot.”

She felt him pull her closer, pressing her against an unyielding body, as a chuckle vibrated across his chest that was right against her back.

From what she could tell, he was not too tall, but was made of a thick wall of pure muscle that she, in her frailness, had no hope of getting away from.

She felt the gun leisurely caress her cheek, until it pressed up against the side of her throat, followed by the hot sensation of a gust of his breath against the back of her neck.

“Now, why would I want to go and kill you now, Ms. Briefs?”

His voice, low and throaty, terrified her…

And for some reason, brought a strange twinge of familiarity to twitch at the back of her mind.

“Who are you?” she demanded, trying and almost succeeding at keeping her voice from trembling.

“That does not matter,” he answered. “What is imperative right now, Princess, is that you cooperate with me. And we shall start by walking back the way you came, into your apartment, so we can make a little call.”

She sucked in a breath.

“And if you know what is good for you,” he hissed, “you will not make a sound.”

She pushed at him slightly, before she hissed back.

“Do not call me Princess.”

8-8-8-8-8

Ah, so she still had that fight within her, after all.

“Very well,” Vegeta answered, taking a discrete whiff of her hair as he pulled her more tightly against him.

She smelled glorious.

Even more so than he remembered.

Then again, his memories of her scent were always mixed with the smell of grass, the scent of sweat, sunshine and childish delight.

She was definitely no longer a child, now.

As quickly and gently as he could, he forced her to walk back the way they had come, his small night vision glasses helping him see perfectly in the darkness.

He had to admit, that toying with her, giving her hope that she had even a slim chance of getting away when he could clearly see her struggling to take her tiny steps, was rather enjoyable.

The whole area was still dark as they trudged down the hall leading to her room.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice strong and demanding even in her compromised state. “Are you gonna rob me? Kill me? Rape me?”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Oh believe me, Ms. Briefs… If I were to decide to fuck you, it would not be rape. You would be begging for it.”

She scoffed, pulling a smirk from his lips.

“I highly doubt that, you brute.”

He could see the door. They were almost there.

“Who are you?” she asked again. “Do I know you?”

Amidst her question, he sensed an underlying note of genuine curiosity.

She knew. Or at least, a part of her did.

She had always been too smart, even for him.

“You are in no position to be demanding answers, Ms. Briefs,” he said simply.

He finally pushed his way into her apartment, and found his men waiting for them in the living room.

“Lapiz,” he called out, pulling off his night vision glasses, sticking them into his jacket pocket. “The lights.”

A small halo of light appeared from a single lamp in the middle of the room, giving off a faint illumination that was just enough to see by.

“Piccolo,” he called.

“Yes, boss,” a tall, thin man with a tall nose and a white turban round his head stepped forward, holding the ropes, just as planned.

He felt Bulma gasp against him as Piccolo came forward, quickly tying her hands together, before he knelt down to bind her legs while Vegeta held her steady.

After Piccolo was done tying her up, Vegeta ushered her down onto a chair, patting her pockets, and pulling out her phone, wallet, and keys.

It was as he was placing her things down onto a table to leave them behind that the small trinket dangling from her keys, hanging beside a tiny flash drive, caught his eye.

He paused, lifting it closer to his face, disbelieving…

The small, white toy, a miniature alien spacepod from a silly television show he had watched as a kid, cheerfully taunted him, causing him to gasp inaudibly.

He turned it over, and saw exactly what he had hoped, or perhaps dreaded, staring back at him.

A tiny “V”, carved onto the back of the toy.

A marker, carved onto the trinket with a small kitchen knife.

He glanced surreptitiously at the woman who was glaring at his men.

She had kept it.

All those years…

Vegeta cleared his throat, steeling himself.

It was not the time for sentimentality.

However, unable to help himself, he found himself surreptitiously putting the woman’s keys into his own pocket instead of leaving them behind.

Before him, Lapiz was already setting up the small netbook, loading up the video call that would connect them to the man who had helped destroy his family.

The cheerful sound made by the application was like an alarm, fully pulling him into the moment, reminding him of his long overdue revenge.

He cracked his knuckles, situating himself behind Bulma’s chair, both of them directly in front of the small computer that was currently placing a video call request to none other than Dr. Trunks Briefs.

Lapiz took his position behind the computer, his short black hair falling primly behind his ears as he aimed a gun at the woman, just as Vegeta had instructed.

Vegeta was trembling from his excitement, but he reined it back, forcing on a placid expression as the face of the man finally appeared on the screen.

“Hello?” the older man called into the screen.

“Dad!” Bulma called, on cue.

Vegeta’s smirk widened.

“Bulma? Bulma, it’s dark. Did you make it out?”

“Dad-”

“No, Dr. Briefs. She did not make it out,” Vegeta finally called out, and he watched in glee as the scientist’s eyes widened, first in fear, and then, in horrified recognition.

“You…?” he choked out. “The Dark Prince…”

He almost sneered at the tile.

Oh, how he hated it.

At the moment though, he relished in the terrified reverence that he heard in Briefs’ voice as he stared in petrified horror at him through the computer screen.

“Yes, me. Surprised, doctor?” he taunted, placing a hand on Bulma’s shoulder for show.

“My daughter! Please, don’t hurt my daughter-”

“Does she look to be in pain, doctor?” he asked. “She will remain unscathed, if you tell me exactly what I need to know.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma blanched as she saw her father’s eyes widen on the screen.

He had been looking at her, but then his eyes became riveted on her abductor, standing guard right behind her.

“I knew it,” she thought to herself. “Something about him is familiar. My father knows him…”

The man behind her began talking again, and Bulma strained her mind, trying in vain to think of where, where and when, she had heard that voice before.

It was not entirely familiar… like an echo of a long-forgotten memory that had been distorted by time, but she had known from the start, from the very first time that he had spoken to her, that she knew that voice…

“I will ask you, only once, Briefs,” he snarled. “Where is the third?”

Her father looked shell-shocked. “The third… you have found the second?”

“As I have said to your daughter… you are in no position to be demanding answers from me,” the man bit out. “Answer my question, Briefs.”

Bulma watched her father through the camera…

He was tight-lipped, his eyes wide in terror and agony… and she realized with a sinking feeling that she knew that look.

It was the face he made whenever he had to keep a terrible secret from her and her mother… his face whenever he knew that the syndicate’s business was far more important than anything he had on his plate.

At once, she came to the startling realization that whatever it was that her kidnapper was asking about, her father knew exactly what the answer was.

And yet, even with her sitting there in mortal danger, he would not talk.

She was absolutely sure.

The horrifying thought raged inside her head, and she understood that whatever it was, was bigger, more important, than her.

She began to despair as she watched the emotions run amok on her father’s face.

She closed her eyes as she heard her father speak the words that would spell her doom.

“I am sorry, young man. I do not know,” he answered, and she heard his plea through his softly-whispered words.

I am sorry, Bulma.

She shook her head in disbelief.

Her father had just sold her out… to keep a secret for the syndicate.

“Tch,” the man behind her spat. “Yes you do, Briefs. I am rather disappointed that you would allow your own daughter to die for a secret that we can unfold soon, anyway. I had just been hoping that you could make the search easier.”

Bulma felt his hold on her shoulders tighten, and she peeked, seeing the thin, severe-looking man behind the netbook still pointing his gun at her in warning.

“I know you do not think much of your existence, Briefs,” the man said, “but let me see how well you hold out when I have your daughter with me.”

With that, he gave her shoulder a sharp, painful squeeze.

“Aah!” she cried out, trying to hold back tears at the unwelcome sensation.

“Bulma!” Dr. Briefs cried.

“You had your chance, Briefs!” he said again. “And if you value your daughter’s life, even a little… make sure that the details of this little chat never reaches Frieza.”

“What do you plan to do with Bulma?” Dr. Briefs asked.

The man simply walked away from her, and with a menacing smirk, answered:

“We will be in touch.”

He then reached down, and disconnected the call.

He turned to the other two, who simply nodded and began packing up their computer and lights, as he approached her again, and before the lights went out, she finally caught a decent glimpse of the man who had been holding her captive.

Bulma’s breath caught in her throat as the sense of recognition began to relentless nag at her mind.

Her eyes took in the broad shoulders that made up for a rather compact stature, his hair a dark, controlled flame above his head. His large hands lifted to conceal his eyes behind what seemed like a set of high-tech night vision lenses.

She shook in denial. It couldn’t possibly be…

His eyes… she needed to see his eyes.

She didn’t even fight him when he untied her legs, then forcefully pulled her up with him, a gun to her side as he made her walk briskly beside him and his men.

It seemed like a small eternity, but soon, she felt the breeze of the cold autumn night on her cheeks, and she had barely realized that she was out of the building before she felt herself being pushed into a sleek, black car.

The man followed immediately behind her.

“Drive,” he growled, and a blond seated at the driver’s seat nodded, speeding them off into the night.

Bulma looked around, noting another dark car following closely behind them, and she took a deep breath, gathering her will before she turned to face her abductor.

Now, in the sparse lights of the few streetlamps littering what looked to be a back street, she gazed at his face, turned sharply towards her while his gun remained trained on her.

“Please,” she tried to reason with him again. “Why are you doing this? My father already told you that he doesn’t know anything.”

He smirked, an eerily familiar expression that made her chest constrict.

She needed to see his eyes!

“Come now, woman. Did you honestly believe that he was being truthful?” he asked, and Bulma viciously pushed her tears back, as desperation filled her.

She tried to discreetly move her hands, hoping to loosen the binds.

“I would not attempt to escape if I were you, Bulma.”

She stilled.

It can’t be…

She looked at him again, her heart hammering in her chest…

The way he said her name… it was unmistakable.

A slightly teasing cadence, the “u” sound deeper and a little longer than necessary.

There was only one person who had ever spoken her name that way…

“My name… why did you say my name that way?” she whispered.

He pointedly looked away.

Bulma felt her lower lip tremble. “Please… may I… will you let me see your eyes?”

He glanced at her, and with a hesitant sigh, lifted his free hand, and pulled off his dark glasses.

Her very breath stopped, and she stared.

Those eyes… narrowed, slanted, with thick brows… the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

The sight of those eyes transported her mind back to her youth, to happier times, before all the complications began, and she finally felt the tears fall unbidden down her cheeks.

She would know those eyes anywhere.

Bulma choked, her emotions too much, running too high…

It should not have been possible. But she couldn’t possibly be wrong…

“Ve… Vegeta?”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and that miniscule affirmation was all that it took to make her tears fall harder.

“Oh God… you’re alive?”

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…