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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

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Hopping Ship

Yan Rival Restaurant Mascot + G.N Reader + Yan Restaurant Entities

Slow day....

Right in the middle of lunch hour too-

Scarce to see the restaurant so empty like this nowadays. After starting the new shift, you genuinely began to ponder if you'd finally lost your hearing due to the one-sided shouting matches from customers before realizing there had been a single since you clocked in and the silence surrounding you was very much real.

With so much free time, you finally got around to completing some tasks you'd be putting on the back burner for a while and a few you picked up while the janitor was out on personal business. They were gone every other week of the month, but you stopped wondering where they went after seeing them crawl into a black van one night after closing shit. It's impolite to watch coworkers who appear to be wearing your missing coat drag trash bags into unmarked vehicles after midnight.

You swept the floors, decorated the back office with some of the flowers the mascot left you and read a couple of their letters, created a sign out for the bathroom succubus to please at least put a towel beneath the door when she went on of her many "mandatory smoke breaks", and other duties which staked your claim as the establishment's most valued, living employee - all accommodating in the treat you rewarded yourself with once your break rolled around.

Sitted at the back of the fridge, behind the cooler you kept your gifted deer kidneys from the crying figure in the woods - a single fruit cup shined in all its syrupy glory. You tended to avoid eating coworkers food until their names appeared in the papers, but this little delight was stapled with a friendly letter for whoever came across it.

"For you~ (yes, the one reading this)"

That in itself should've been warning enough, but you were too hungry to care and not really in the mood for greasy fast food or ice cream from a bastard ghost. It was the perfect snack. Tiered with fruits representing all colors of the rainbow separated by rich, fluffy cream you assumed to be whipped frosting or some type of yogurt.

Snagging the cup and a spoon from the dispensery, you head back to the front to eat just in case anyone shows up. First bite in and you immediately notice something off about what you've just willingly ingested. What should've a sweet, succulent strawberry tasted exactly like strawberry cheesecake. The creaminess of its taste compared to its snappy texture threw you off entirely. You nibbled on an apple slice which tasted just like pie. Not exactly what you were going for, but you needed something on your stomach. Mindlessly chewing away, a faint hiss comes from beneath the counter.

"Psssst."

Must be another gas leak.

"Y/n - down here!"

You almost wish it had.

Peering underneath, you make contact with the frantic eyes of a former coworker. His face was caked in mud and his lips cracked from the clear signs of dehydration. You grab a cup of water from the soda machine which he near inhales, plastic and all. You take your seat back at the counter, poking around at your cup. "Hey, Noah. What happened to you last we I thought you the storyteller told you to go get lost in the forest and get eaten by bears."

"I was a boyscout growing up and all the predator animals in this area are dead. Get down - it'll see you!"

"What will?"

He tugs on your sleeve. "The rabbit thing that's been throwing everyone into that van! It's right outside!"

"Mm?"

Sucking a cube of peach cobbler off your spoon - you you peer outsife where another mascot stood - gloved hand extended a with flyer to the customer approaching the the door. The anthropomorphic rabbit was dressed in a red and white hybrid of a nurse gown and a 50s waitress outfit down to the pastel skates it wore on its large feet.. When the customer ignores the paper and went out of their way to walk around the strange figure, the creature dropped the flyer as it clasped its hand around their neck and hurls them into the open van beside it. Slamming the door on their ankle - the rabbit suddenly bends backwards with an audible crack facing the register as its ears dangle at its feet, waving at you with its Cheshire grin. You chase a grape around the container with your spoon.

"They seem friendly."

Noah pulls harder on your clothes. "Quiet! We need to call the police."

"Mmm... nah, they never respond to any of our calls anyway."

He groans into his hands. "Ughh- Ojay, we'll figure something out - just, don't make look that thing in the eye.

Bit too late for that.

The rabbit mascot had scaled the restaurant floor in about the same time it too you to swallow the bland frosting that served as a palate cleaner for the tooth rotting sweetness. It contorts to match your height, button nose inches from yours.

"Hello, hello, he-llo - where have you been hiding?~ I was looking for you. "

".... Hey, Noah? Can you actually try the police to see if they'll show up this time?"

The rabbit chuckles. "Funny too. I knew you were a catch from the second I laid eyes on you. That's why I had to make sure our first meeting was special and there were no..." Its eyes fall to the counter." prying eyes... Anywho! Did you enjoy the fruits I left for you?"

You shrug, mouth full of sugary melon. "I guess."

"Fantastic! Those at my establishment prioritize a healthy, and tasty lifestyle. I certainly hope you don't mind us treading on your territory, but it was the only spot in town fit for our dream. If all things go according to plan, you won't have to worry about the competition at all! Onto my big question - would you care to join our team? An experienced crewmate like yourself is just what we need and if you start this afternoon - I'll even make you manager! Even deal, wouldn't you say?"

"....not really."

"Great!-...." Its ears fall flat against its skill. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I kinda like it here. Bring manager sounds like I'd have to do more work than I do now, and the the ball pit is a big factor to why I stay.

Soft clapping sounds from the play area. Confused, he mascot looks between your face and your half eaten cup. "Are you sure?"

You shrug again. "Pretty sure I am."

"Maybe take another bite and think about it harder?"

LYou shove the remaining bits of fruit in your mouth, using the time to chew as your grace period. "Positive."

"I see...." The rabbit's whiskers twitch as it snaps back to full height, spinning on their wheels towards the door. "No matter. I will be back for you another day with an offer you won't be able to refuse. Until then."

You look at the floor as they skate away. "I think it's leaving, Noah.... Noah?"

"Help me!"

You glance back up in time to see Noah being dragged outside and flung into the van as his captor grumbles something about just using sleeping pills next time. You official cross him off the schedule as you throw the cup away.

"If they'd just offer me their skates - I probably would've said yes."

You lick the spoon clsan as the ice cream machine whirls to life.

"Cheater!"

"Oh shut up."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #tw yandere #yandere harem #fast food reader

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booksbydlwhite · 5 months

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#SAMPLESUNDAY: HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS- “We’re too cool…”

Welcome to another Sample Sunday! I’m sharing a snip from HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, my upcoming holiday novella. I’m making great progress and I’m excited to share Reid and Sabrina with you. No release date yet, but you will see this novella before the year is out!

Enjoy today’s snip-grab links to add this title to your ‘I NEEEEED TO READ THIS’ lists on Goodreads and The Storygraph.

“This view is breathtaking,” she murmured, admiring the lake at mid-afternoon. “I can’t get over how everywhere I look, it’s so…picturesque. Like right out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. No wonder Aunt Cara loves it here.”

I was reminded, taking in the view of my hometown, of the survey I was supposed to complete and the changes that I truly believed would revolutionize this community. I didn’t want to ruin the afternoon with work, though, so I set those thoughts aside for another day. We talked and walked, lost in conversation until the sun began to sink below the horizon, turning the sky a deep, dusky pink. We headed back toward the center of town.

In just a few hours, the town square had been transformed into a lively winter festival. The crisp air filled with the aromas of hot chocolate, popcorn, grilled sausages, and boiled peanuts. Children shrieked with laughter as they ran from game to game, eagerly trying their hand at each one. There was a ring toss, lawn bowling with pins that were painted like snowmen, “ice fishing” with magnets attached to plastic fish and sticks to mimic fishing poles. Booths stood side by side, boasting handmade crafts and tasty treats like taffy, frosted gingerbread and varieties of fudge-hazelnut, walnut, dark chocolate, white chocolate. Before I could eat my weight in candy, Sabrina and I got drafted to a corn hole team.

After picking out a few painted ornaments, we headed over to the towering pine tree in the town square, singing along to soulful holiday tunes performed by a live band.

Without the sun offering warmth, the chill in the air had a bite to it. I pulled my jacket closed and urged Sabrina to do the same, then nudged her over to Rooster’s Coffee and Hot Chocolate stand. A couple was working the line, laughing and talking with each customer as if they were old friends.

“I’m guessing you two are Sage and Bennett,” I said, once we had reached the counter.

“We are,” they answered in unison, with bright smiles.

“You don’t even have to tell me who you are,” said Sage, looking right at Sabrina, flipping the swoop of her bang out of her eyes. Her bright red Rooster’s Coffee t-shirt peeked out from a puffy black coat. “Ms. Cara cannot stop talking about how her niece is here visiting. She was hoping you’d find your way into town. I hope we’ll see you around more…and you dragged Cliff and Patricia’s son out, too!”

My brows shot up in surprise. “Nobody needs an introduction in a small town, I guess.”

“You look just like your dad,” said Bennett, “so it’s not at all necessary. Y’all want whipped cream on your hot chocolate?”

We headed toward the crowd milling around the tree with tall cups of hot chocolate and a generous dollop of whipped cream. I herded us toward the seats near a heater and waited for the ceremony to begin. I spotted my parents, who waved at us but opted to sit with their friends, a rowdy bunch of gray haired people that include Aunt Cara.

“I guess we’re not cool enough for them,” mumbled Sabrina.

“Or... we’re too cool.”

“That’s probably not true, Reid.”

“Agree.” I sipped from my cup of hot chocolate, sending a band of warm through my body.

Sabrina glanced at me, then glanced again in a double take. “Uh... you... you have some...whipped cream. In... in your...”

I wanted to ask her to lick it off but couldn’t decide if she would welcome that request or leave me hanging.

“Do you mind?” I asked instead, bending toward her.

She hesitated for a brief moment, then swiped her thumb under my lip. Her fingertips were cold, but the warmth that billowed through me at her touch took care of that.

“I look good?” I asked.

“Perfect,” she replied, with a smile.

The ceremony began with Larry Cable, city council president, opening the event in a brief prayer, followed by one of my favorite NBA players, Kade “KC” Cavanaugh taking the mic. I fanboyed a little as he spoke, then introduced his wife Leslie, who led us in counting down the seconds until he threw the switch that lit up the seven-foot Christmas tree.

As the tree illuminated, the crowd cheered and the band started up again.

Sabrina nudged me with her elbow. “What a perfect tree! It’s gorgeous!”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” I replied…but I wasn’t looking at the tree.

#sample sunday #home for the holidays #potter lake

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anchorpackaging · 6 months

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6 Best Food Delivery Containers for a Safe Food Delivery

Poorly designed food containers can let down customers to the point that they might never want to order from your restaurant ever again. Imagine someone gets their morning coffee from your cafe and it leaks from the bottom into the cup holder of their car before they even reach their place of work. Or they get takeaway from your restaurant, and it goes cold before they reach home. Or cupcakes move around in the container and all the frosting sticks to the inside of the container. The right food containers can ensure customers do not have such poor experiences.

One crucial aspect of ensuring a successful delivery experience for your customers is choosing the right food delivery containers. In this blog, we will explore 6 best food delivery containers and provide insights into avoiding the wrong food packaging.

6 Best Food Delivery Containers

Food delivery containers come in a variety of types, each designed to serve specific purposes and maintain the quality of the food being transported. Here are six types of food delivery containers:

Hot Case & Cold Case

Hot Case: Hot Cases are insulated containers designed to keep hot food items at the desired temperature during delivery. These containers often come with secure latching mechanisms to prevent heat from escaping, ensuring that your customers receive their meals piping hot.

Cold Case: On the flip side, Cold Cases are designed to maintain the temperature of cold dishes, such as salads, desserts, or beverages, keeping them refreshingly chilled throughout the delivery process.

Premium Hinged Containers

Premium hinged containers are versatile and convenient for a wide range of food items. These containers are typically made of sturdy plastic and come with hinged lids that seal tightly to prevent leaks and maintain food quality. They are perfect for a variety of dishes, from sandwiches and wraps to pasta and salads.

Deli Cups with Lids

Deli Cups are perfect for storing and delivering small portions of food items. These containers, often made of clear, lightweight plastic, are equipped with secure-fitting lids that create a seal to keep food fresh and prevent spillage. They are commonly used by food packaging companies for soups, sauces, condiments, and side dishes.

Reusable Containers

These containers are eco-friendly and designed for repeated use. Made from durable materials like glass or high-quality plastics, reusable containers are ideal for restaurants that want to reduce their environmental footprint. They come in various sizes and are excellent for packing a wide range of meals for delivery.

Tamper Evident Hinged Containers

Tamper-evident containers are crucial for ensuring the safety and integrity of food during delivery. These containers feature a secure, tamper-resistant seal that breaks upon opening, providing clear evidence if the food has been tampered with. They are commonly used for items like takeout salads, pre-packaged meals, and more.

Molded Fiber Clamshells

Molded fiber clamshells are a sustainable and eco-friendly option for food delivery. They are made from recycled materials, and their unique design resembles a clamshell, making them perfect for items like burgers, sandwiches, or even hot entrees. These containers offer decent insulation and help keep food fresh.

Selecting the right type of food delivery container is essential for ensuring that your customers receive their meals in the best possible condition. Depending on your menu and the types of food you offer, choosing from these various container options by food container suppliers will help you maintain the quality and presentation of your dishes during the delivery process.

3 types of food packaging you should avoid

Food packaging plays a crucial role in preserving the freshness and safety of our food products. However, not all types of food packaging are created equal. Some packaging materials can have negative impacts on customer’s health and the environment. Here are three types of food packaging you should avoid:

Polystyrene (Styrofoam) Containers: Styrofoam is not biodegradable and can take hundreds of years to break down in the environment. When heated, it can release toxic chemicals, including styrene, which is a potential carcinogen. To minimize people’s exposure to these harmful substances, it's best not to tie up with food service packaging manufacturers who use Styrofoam containers.

Plastic Containers with BPA: Bisphenol A (BPA) is a synthetic chemical used in some types of plastic food containers, especially those marked with recycling codes 3 and 7. BPA can leach into food and beverages, especially when the containers are exposed to heat or acidic substances. To reduce your customer’s exposure to BPA, choose food packaging labeled as BPA-free or opt for alternative materials like glass or stainless steel.

Single-Use Plastics: Single-use plastics, including plastic bags, straws, and utensils, contribute to environmental pollution and harm wildlife. To reduce your reliance on single-use plastics, consider using reusable alternatives such as cloth bags, metal straws, and bamboo utensils. When looking for sustainable takeout packaging, opt for businesses that offer eco-friendly packaging options.

By making informed choices and reducing your consumption of harmful food packaging materials, you can contribute to a healthier planet and a safer food supply.

Conclusion

Choosing the best food delivery containers for your business is a critical decision that directly impacts the quality of your food and the satisfaction of your customers. By choosing the best food delivery containers, you can make informed choices that enhance your takeout and delivery service.

Anchor Packaging stands out as the top choice for food delivery containers in the industry. Their innovative designs and commitment to quality ensure that your business can deliver meals with confidence, keeping food fresh and customers satisfied. With Anchor Packaging, you can elevate your food delivery services to the next level, making it the perfect partner for your business's success.

#fooddeliverypackagingsupplies #foodservicepackagingmanufacturer

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bokksu-vs-sakuraco · 9 months

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Sakuraco Box #1 Review

Theme: Festivals of Okinawa

Arrived: August 24

# of Unique Snacks: 13

Household item: Bamboo summer fan from Okinawa

—

Shipping timeline for this box:

August 7th - Order placed

August 8th - Box was processed and packed

August 13th - Received tracking email

August 14th - Box departed carrier facility

August 17th - Flight departs

August 17th - (But now in US time) Box arrives in US

August 18th - Accepted by 3rd party carrier in LA

August 24th - It arrives :)

As a note, I live on the east coast of the US. Sakuraco used ECMS to ship the box to the US, which then transferred to.. I'm not sure what actually.. which then was passed to my local USPS post office for delivery. The tracking link Sakuraco sent me was kind of vague about locations:

But searching my tracking number on a general tracking website gave me more information about exactly where in the US my box was moving through.

Shipping Quality & Contents

When it finally arrived, it came like this with the packing slip (and nutrition info?) just taped to the box.

I was hoping to save this box so I would've preferred if I could keep it in perfect condition, but I couldn't just leave all this packing stuff stuck to it so I pealed it off and got this

Just as I feared. The box itself has a thin coating over it which was lifted up from the cardboard, leading to those darker looking areas and the lighter spots are where it was ripped off. At least this is on the bottom of the box but it's still not great. Flipping it over we see this

So it's not as noticeable but there's still that semi circle of lifting at the bottom there which is 😭. I'm just thinking it can't cost much to wrap the boxes in a plastic bag and then put the shipping label on there (which incidentally is what Bokksu does). While Sakuraco often has custom box designs, it sometimes uses its default which is the box shown above. I hope they package the special boxes a bit better... Anyway, onto the contents!

I can't wait to try these. The packing was pretty good actually, although the sawfish senbei was cracked in half. The observant eye will notice this month's household good, the Okinawan fan, on the right, as well as an enticing "Bonus" box on the left. This box is of course my subscription bonus glass cup

It's got a bit of a cloudy glaze on it with fireworks and fish painted on. I say painted because that's how it looks, but running your finger over the glass you can't feel any paint so I don't know how they did it actually. The box it came in is also quite nice and makes everything feel a bit more deluxe. The instructions say you can't microwave the glass (or put it in the dishwasher).

Flipping through the box's booklet, I'm noticing it's about half cultural information and half info on the snacks themselves.

Lastly, the post card in the box has a back to it:

—

Now for some snacks!

Since everyone has different tastes and snack preferences, I'll try to include some neutral descriptions of each snack.

First up, how can you resist these cute fan cookies (Uchiwa Festival Cookies)?

They're light but they're also pretty hard. You bite down and there's this slight charred taste but you also get that egg and a non-overwhelming sweetness. The cute pictures seem to be painted with a frosting that very gently increases the sweetness when you get to it.

Next, the Red Tomato Arare:

They're like thin rice crackers coated in tomato powder/spices. The flavor just kinda hits you right away, tingling your tongue and mixing with that distinct rice cracker flavor. It really stays in your mouth too, I can still sort of still feel it 10 minute later. The tomato flavor itself reminded me a lot of pasta.

After that we had the Okinawan Salt Senbei, which are like these really light, round cookies (we ate them before I remembered to take a picture). It reminded me of a shrimp chip (虾片) but a bit harder with a tiny bit more chew, and a lot saltier. While the salt is really the selling point of the snack, the description in the booklet says "subtle" salt taste and yeah it's not subtle.

Here are the Beni Imo Donut Bou, or a kind of sweet potato donut:

Taking a bite, you get that firm donut texture similar to the dense consistency of apple cider donuts, if you've had those before. The sweet potato flavor really comes through and was rather appealing, although the snack as a whole was very sweet (a bit too sweet in my opinion).

The next item (which I also didn't take a picture of) is Sawfish Senbei, a rice cracker shaped like a sawfish. Ignoring the fun shape, to me at least it was a pretty standard rice cracker, on the hard side with a subtle umami flavor.

So far I've just been randomly picking out and tasting snacks from my box, but I actually planned to hold a tea party with my mom where we can properly sit down and taste a bit of everything left. Here's the remaining snacks we've yet to cover!

I'll start with the tea. We got two little tea bags that I steeped in hot water and wow! It had this really nice, bright floral aroma. Quite good and in my opinion it paired well with this set of snacks, giving something of a 'sitting in a flower garden at the height of summer' feeling. At first it was perfect (and not bitter!), however we kind of let the tea steep too long and after a while it started having a strong bitter taste. So, I'd appreciate if they added some info in the booklet on the recommended amount of time to steep.

Now I'll just go in the order we ate these. Starting with the Kokuto (Okinawan brown sugar) Peanuts! (Left picture is from their website, right picture is what I got out of the bag.)

Each peanut had a thin, crisp layer of brown sugar around them. What surprised me though is that while the coating basically seemed like pure sugar, they weren't too sweet. I thought it was just enough to bring out the richness of the brown sugar while not overpowering the peanut taste.

Next, the Pickled Daikon Okaki.

The size of each piece felt just right to pop into your mouth, the amount of flavoring was perfect (at least for me) and it had a solid crunch. The taste was a little strange at first but they grew on me pretty fast and soon it was hard to stop eating them! The amount I poured out is about half of what was in the bag.

After that is the Kokuto Konjac Warabimochi.

I think this was my box's 'surprise item' actually, since it wasn't listed in the booklet. It came in a little tray of 12 jelly cubes with a separate baggy of sweetened soybean powder. I brought out 6 of the cubes here and dusted them with about a third of the soybean powder. It was very interesting; the jelly had a bit of an herbal flavor to it. Even among the other snacks, this one stands out as being pretty unique, both in flavor and preparation style.

There was one piece of Pineapple Mochi Manju.

so I cut it in half for us to share. True to mochi, it's soft and chewy. The pineapple filling had tiny chunks of pineapple in it, adding a bit more texture. Somewhat on the sweet side, it kind of sticks to your teeth but really wasn't hard to chew.

As someone who can't stand spicy foods, the Okinawan Chili Oil Arare.

sounded like something that would send me flying out the room, but it actually wasn't that spicy. It really just had a non-overwhelming kick to it. Like the previous arare, this was like a bite sized, seasoned cracker.

The Kokuto Manju —

They were a little dry but fluffy and light. They would pair well with tea. On the inside there's red bean paste, while the outer dough has that brown sugar flavor. They look really cute and were individually packaged (I only unwrapped two, but there are 3 more of them not shown here). The booklet hyped these guys up a lot with pictures of the production process.

Lastly, the Summer Senbei —

The senbei so far haven't really blown me away, but wow! I was pleasantly surprised by this one. The rice cracker was crunchy without being hard like the others and it had a satisfying fusion of sweet and savory. I'll have to agree with the booklet on this one, while looking rather unassuming it had a "harmonious balance of flavors."

Verdict

Personal preference, the snacks at our tea party were much better than the random snacks I pulled out for us to taste previously. This might also be in part because sitting down for a taste testing tea party paints a different experience from random snacking. Overall, the box had a pretty good range of flavors as well as a balance between sweet and salty snacks.

In terms of the amount of food provided, the tea party table photo shows maybe half the food? Eating the entire box at once would probably be a bit much, but if you're a big snacker then it probably wouldn't last more than a couple days.

Overall, this was a nice experience! I'm excited for the next box, which actually I've noticed some people have already received? It's only 8/26 when I'm typing this, so I'm a little curious when they're gonna send me the September one.

That's all for now! I hope this was a little helpful.

—June

#box review #sakuraco #subscription box #japanese snacks #japanese food

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looksforleaders · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 💜EUC PartyLite Expressions Multi Display Candle Holder.

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the-swedes-knees · 3 years

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Time in A Bottle (Agent Mobius x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.

Word Count: 1.8k

Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent.

It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.

Unless you were Mobius, that is.

[09:45:00]

Technically, he shouldn't be here.

His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.

But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.

You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.

Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.

"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"That'd be great, thanks."

You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.

As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.

"How'd you know?"

"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.

You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.

Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.

Both a confidant, and a stranger.

"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.

"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.

Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.

"Good choice, this one's my favorite."

"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.

"I'm on the clock-"

"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."

[09:52:16]

"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.

It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"

"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."

"I think this one will stand out."

"What is the date, anyway?"

"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."

"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"

"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.

You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.

While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.

"So Mobius... like, from maths?"

"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.

Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.

"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."

"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"

"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"

Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.

"Or having pie in good company."

You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"

[09:59:06]

"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.

Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.

"How would you know that?"

"I just know things." He shrugged.

"Like what?" You challenged.

"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."

"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."

"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"

"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."

You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.

"What about me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.

"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."

[10:04:59]

The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.

Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.

The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.

"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.

Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.

"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."

"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."

"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"

You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.

"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."

"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."

Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.

He knew would see you again, always at 9:45.

#agent mobius #mobius #mobius m. mobius #agent mobius x reader #mobius x reader #loki series #loki #marvel #marvel x reader #sorry for the interruption from my usual content #but I love time traveling men

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customprintingcups · 6 days

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

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(The Bad Batch) Platonic!BB x Reader: Ice Cream

(Author’s Note: Some random platonic Bad Batch fluff! Enjoy!

Literally, I wrote a whole paragraph on Wrecker’s ice cream order)

You caught a glimpse of familiar gray and red through the frost-patterned windows, a smile spreading across your face. Suddenly, the unbelievably slow day wasn’t so bad. Your favorite customers were on their way in, after all. You smoothed out your apron, straightened the mandatory uniform ball cap on your head, and waited at the front counter.

The door swung wide open as the largest of the group ducked his head a little to enter through the doorway. “Hey, ________!” Wrecker greeted. “How’s it going?”

“Wrecker! It’s going alright. How are you?”

“Good now that I’m here!” He guffawed. The other walked into the store behind him with Hunter in the lead. He was followed by Tech and then Crosshair, and you were surprised to see an extra trooper among them.

“Hey guys,” you waved.

“Hey _________,” they chorused. The man who came in last looked at you curiously.

“I see you’ve got a new member of the squad,” you commented, and Hunter nodded as he folded his arms against the counter casually.

“_________, this is Echo. Echo, this is _________.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, reaching over the counter to shake his hand. Only, there wasn’t a hand to shake. Echo gave you a sheepish look as you switched, instead offering your left hand. He shook it with a genuine smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too. The boys told me all about their favorite place to get ice cream and the friendly face they look forward to seeing.” He chuckled, lowering his voice a little. “Especially Crosshair.” You fought back a giggle as the sniper rolled his eyes.

“The ice cream here is pretty legendary,” you said. “As am I. So, what’ll it be?”

“I need a minute to see what you have,” Echo replied, stepping back. Wrecker quickly and enthusiastically took his place right in front of the counter, grinning.

“I already know what I want!” He pointed at the item on the menu directly behind you, and you could already guess what it was before even looking. “With extra sprinkles!”

You smiled and got to work, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves before grabbing a chocolate-dipped waffle bowl from its container against the wall. With a scooper, you shoveled out a heaping scoop of vanilla and two scoops of chocolate. Then, you drizzled on caramel and hot fudge before throwing a dash of peanuts on. Finally, the treat was complete when you added a mountain of whipped cream and tossed two spoonfuls of chocolate sprinkles on top. It was sugar in a sugary bowl topped with sugar and more sugar, just how he liked it. Wrecker was rubbing his hands together, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you carefully handed him the treat.

“Aw yeah! Thanks, __________!”

“No problem. Who’s next?”

“I’ll just do a regular chocolate sundae,” Hunter said with that charming smile of his.

You grabbed a cup, scooped some vanilla ice cream in, and drizzled chocolate sauce on top before handing it over the counter with a spoon.

“Two scoops of cherry ice cream on a cone, please,” Tech spoke up.

“Mm, good choice.” You filled his order, and he adjusted his goggles with one hand as he took the ice cream in the other. “Next?”

“Mint chocolate chip on a cone. Two scoops,” Crosshair said, arms folded. You shot him a friendly wink before you grabbed his order, and he uttered a “thank you” as you handed it to him. By that time, Echo was already meeting your gaze.

“Are the banana splits here any good?”

“I’ve heard that is the case,” you replied.

“I’d like to try that then, please.”

You grabbed a banana from the fridge, quickly shedding the peel and slicing it in half. You placed three scoops of vanilla in a longer plastic dish before placing the banana halves on each side. Then, you drizzled chocolate, strawberry, and pineapple on top before adding whipped cream.

Echo looked impressed by the finished product as you gave it to him.

“So,” Hunter said, fishing some credits from a pocket in his armor. “What do we owe you?”

“It’s on me,” you told him with a smile. The squad chorused their grateful “thank you”s.

Hunter’s brows rose. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you guys are by far my favorite customers, and I haven’t seen you in a while. I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Tech spoke up. “As well as the ice cream.”

“Yeah!” Wrecker growled through a mouthful of his sundae. “Turns out they don’t have any good ice cream places on Felucia.”

“Oh, is that where you were?” you asked curiously, leaning against the counter, intrigued.

Hunter gave his brother a warning glance, but ended up shaking his head with a sigh. “Technically, it’s top secret,” he said.

“But yes, we were on Felucia,” Crosshair confirmed.

“Wow, that’s pretty far. No wonder I didn’t see you for a while. And they don’t have good ice cream?” you gave a playful smirk. “That sounds rough.”

“It was! Not to mention there’s no ___________ there either,” Wrecker added. “Although, I’m glad you are safe here.”

“Yes, selling ice cream in a warzone does not sound...ideal.” Tech crunched down on his ice cream cone. You chuckled at the thought.

The squad ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in your shop. Fortunately, it had been a slow day, so you didn’t have to step away too many times to serve other customers. At one point, you had your hat and apron hanging on the back of a chair in the dining area as you and the squad sat around a table talking and catching up. You liked Echo right off the bat, but after getting to know him better you knew for sure you’d get along.

Crosshair had lightened up a bit and was leaning back in his chair smirking at an amusing story that Hunter was telling you about the latest mission. The shop was filled with laughter and good-natured teasing. Eventually, your shift came to an end. You hung up your uniform and grabbed your belongings. Your replacement arrived a little early, so were good to head out.

“Since we’ve been here for a while now,” Hunter said. “We were going to get something to eat. Want to come?”

“Sure,” you grinned. “I’m down with wherever.”

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #platonic bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch reader insert #star wars the bad batch reader insert #bad batch reader insert #bad batch tech #bad batch wrecker #bad batch hunter #bad batch echo #bad batch crosshair

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custacup · 2 years

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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bmbochangetales · 3 years

Note

‘Doll’s Dreamy Cafe? When did that get there? I’m sure I would’ve heard about another coffee shop opening so close to mine.’ I quickly pull into the parking lot of the garish, multicolor building. ‘I guess I should check out the competition,’ I think heading inside.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head at the shirtless man behind the counter. Surely that was against the health code? And the woman behind the counter... That apron must be made of some amazing material to contain those tits. And they couldn’t be called anything else; huge, full, perky mounds that bounced with every movement. “Like, welcome,” she smiles and I get hard thinking about how those obscene lips would feel on my...

This is ridiculous. This place will be shut down within the week. Unless of course the coffee and pastries are really, really, good...

Holy crap, this menu is a mess. Does that say ‘cum cream shot?’ What is ‘bratticcino?’

“Um, Miss Doll,“ I ask, looking at the nametag just above a nipple threatening to burst free, “Can I get the medium roast house blend? And, uh, throw in a pastry. Any will do.”

“Just like a house blend? Any pastry is good?”

You are too busy eyeing up Doll and nodded your head nonchalantly. She accepted the distracted confirmation and began busying herself out of your eyesight.

You move to a table and wait for the coffee and pastry. Your eyes scan the cafe. A different aesthetic then your own but it works for this place. It seems slow but it is a slow time of day. It’s hard to judge what the competition is like from this place.

If Doll knew you were the competition, she gave no acknowledgment. And Cock….well he was busy struggling to open a plastic bag at the moment. You weren’t worried about him. Although he did seem vaguely familiar to you.

Doll came out from behind the counter. Your order on a tray. She placed it before you, “Here you are cutie!” And here is the remote that controls this place!”

You must have looked confused.

“Ya know like the music and temperature and like all that stuff!”

You were a bit confused as to why you got it but since you were the only customer, but maybe it was just you got to pick the music and set the air con.

You pointed to the stereo turning it up a bit. The tiny control panel on the universal remote showes genres. You picked some One of your favorite. As you clicked select and went to adjust the volume you pointed it right past Cock. The ditzy male worker appeared on your remote screen. Strange.

Tons of choices came up on the scrolling menu. You saw one, “total package:b…..”it cut off. You tapped it to see what it was. It selected and you looked over to see a tiny beautiful bimbo at the register now. Tan skin, a healthy rack, now wearing a bikini. How in the world is it possible?

You scroll through the menu of options. When the tit menu appears. You go through the sizes. Just 2 sizes up from DD to F…no…G. Still no where as big as the owner but a beautiful choice. You go to click when Doll crosses the path and she appears on your screen.

All you had to do is point the remote at someone and they were under your control. You went back to the feminine cock. You finished giving the cashier G cup tits when you saw the option to rename. Cock was no longer a good choice. Hmmm….keeping the the same idea. You renamed her to Tits.

You went back to Doll. You scrolled until you came to a personality panel. You see obedience first. Jack that up to 100%. Free will take away 20%.

Cock addiction. That was a good one. 100%.

Wait. There was a box to specify Doll’s main controller. If you control her, then you also have this cafe. Plus yours. This was a a no brainer. You typed your name in quickly. Before you had a chance to scroll more Doll was rushing to you.

“Master! I need your cock!” Doll was on her knees at the table before you could blink. Your pants were unzipped as her obscene lips wrapped around your cock. Up and down sliding like two beautiful cock pads they were made to be.

They were better than you imagined. You now controlled two hugely pleasurable lips, two beautiful bimbos and two cafes. Life would be good as soon as Doll swallowed this heavy…

“ORDER UP!” Cock yelled. Doll came and grabbed it and brought it over. You looked around. It had all been your imagination. Some fantasy in your head.

“You know maybe I should like, come and totally check out your place sometime. It’s like only fair since you are down the street.” Doll winked as she left your order in front of you at the table and returned to frosting cupcakes.

Your coffee steaming hot. And two pastries: a simple cream puff and a remote shaped cookie with a picture of Doll and Tits in the control panel.

Maybe she should come down to you soon.

#my writing #my story #interactive #doll’s cafe #mr h m bo

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sweet-curried-powder · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Cherry Blossom!

so it's cherry's birthday today, and since i've had sk8 brainrot lately both generally and ficwise, my brain would not let me relax until i wrote cherry a fic for his birthday. this took me several days to write, and i finished sometime yesterday before all my birthday celebrations took place, and wrapped up editing just now today.

so yeah, take a sk8 found fam fic for cherry's birthday!

Reki, Langa, and Miya laid in wait behind a dumpster near Joe’s restaurant, watching the side door. It was Cherry’s birthday, and the kids wanted to surprise the pink-haired calligrapher, with no outside help whatsoever. As far as Joe and Cherry knew, Miya had a doctor’s appointment, Reki had to run some errands for his mother, and Langa had to go get his hair cut (Really, Langa’s excuse wasn’t really a lie. He’d gotten his hair cut by his mother earlier today, and it only took about ten minutes.). The “parents” had no idea what the boys had planned.

The doorknob jiggled, and Miya leapt into action. Joe waltzed out, fishing his wallet and keys out of his pocket, heading for his vehicle, back to the door. The door had some sort of automatic lock, where the door would lock once the door was shut, so Joe didn’t even give the door a second glance, fortunately.

Miya acted quickly, leaping to the door in less than a second and shoving his board in the doorway just before the door could close, keeping it open. By now, Joe was in his car, and starting it up. Reki opened the door, holding it for Miya and Langa, the latter’s arms full of grocery bags, watching the area to make sure Joe was gone before the redhaired boy popped into the restaurant.

The door was near the back of the large, spacious kitchen, which was neat as a pin; counters wiped clean, cooking utensils put away, nothing out of place. There was a faint smell of garlic and herbs still lingering in the air, which wasn’t overly strong, but it was mouthwatering nonetheless.

Langa set the bags down on the counter, Reki producing the cookbook from his bag, flipping to the bookmarked page, a recipe for a cherry cake. Miya rooted through the cabinets, getting out bowls, pans, and measuring cups and spoons.

“Do you think Cherry will like this?” Langa asked, getting out the ingredients and setting them on the table. “I mean, I don’t have that much baking experience besides making cakes and brownies from mixes…”

“I’m sure he’ll like it!” Reki reassured Langa, patting his friend on the back. “And besides, it’s cherry cake! For Cherry Blossom! It’s clever, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” Miya shrugged, opening a drawer with a bunch of aprons inside. He took some out and handed them to Langa and Reki. “Here. We don’t want stuff getting on our clothes.” The youngest took one for himself, putting it on. It was a little big on him, but it worked.

Reki threw his apron on, while Langa put his on more carefully. They fit just perfectly, since Reki and Langa were much taller than their brother.

“C’mon, let’s get baking! It’s just a cake, what can go wrong―”

There was a loud cry from Miya. The two boys turned to see Miya, whose face was coated in cake flour. He’d opened the bag too roughly, causing flour to explode all over himself and the counters.

Reki began laughing, pointing at the flour-coated boy. Miya growled, grabbing a fistful of flour and chucking it at Reki, who got a faceful of it. He coughed and sputtered, glaring at a smug-looking Miya.

“You’re kind of a little shit, you know that?”

“Thank you, dear brother.”

Langa began greasing and flouring the cake pans, making sure to get each and every little corner. Reki and Miya measured the flour, some of it flying out of the bowl and landing on the counters. Langa went to fetch the mixer from one of the shelves, gasping softly as he nearly teetered from how heavy the mixer was. He set it down on the counter, plugging it in before turning to Reki and Miya, who had started on the wet ingredients.

“‘Separate the whites from six eggs’?” Miya read aloud from the cookbook. “How do you separate egg whites?”

Reki opened his mouth to answer, before Langa took an egg from the carton. He put his free hand over the bowl, using the other to crack the egg into his hand. The white seeped through his fingers, plopping into the bowl with a satisfying noise. Langa put the egg yolk in a smaller bowl, shaking the stray egg white off of his hand.

“How’d you know how to do that, Langa?” Reki asked, tilting his head. “I thought you hadn’t cooked from scratch before.”

“Mom had a baking show on TV the other night,” Langa said, taking another egg. “I don’t know what the show was called, something about sugar or spices I think? But one of the ladies on the show did this with the eggs, I thought I could give that a try.”

Reki peered in the bowl with the yolk in it. There was still some white stuck to the yolk, but Langa had gotten most of it. He had to admit, it was fairly impressive.

“That was a good idea, Langa. Good job,” he congratulated Langa, beaming widely at him. A light blush dawned on the pale boy’s cheeks as he mumbled a “thank you” in reply.

Miya watched the two teenage boys talk with each other as they separated the eggs’ yolks and whites, blush and flour dusted across their cheeks. He shook his head, opening the jar of cherries and straining the juice into a measuring cup. I swear to god, they’re pining for each other. It’s like some sort of fanfiction.

“Okay! Whites are in!” Reki grinned, wiping some flour off of his nose. “Things should be smooth sailing from here, now that we know what else to do. Miya, the cherry juice?”

“Yeah, yeah, I―FUCK―” Miya tripped on his shoes, the measuring cup flying out of the small boy’s hands and splashing onto the floor. Luckily the cup was plastic, so it didn’t break, but the juice splashed all over the floor. “Dammit, that was all our cherry juice!”

“And we only have that one jar of maraschino cherries…” Langa mumbled.

“Don’t worry, don’t panic,” Reki tried to reassure the other two. “There’s a store right down the road, remember? They’ve got to sell maraschino cherries there, I’ll just go skate by there and pick up another jar.”

“What if Mama Cherry and Papa Joe come back before you do?” Miya asked, pulling on his sleeve. “The surprise will be ruined then…”

“I called the old man earlier and asked him to distract Cherry and Joe for a few hours while we make the cake. I’ll try and contact him and say we need more time.” Reki grabbed his board, rushing to the side door of the restaurant. “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

“Stay safe, Reki!” Langa called out as Reki left in a rush, hopping on his board and zooming towards the shop, heart pounding as he approached the store. This could still work, this is just a minor setback, it―

“Will you shut it, you damn gorilla?!”

Fuck. It was Cherry.

Reki quickly ducked behind a trash can in a nearby alley, peering to where the voice was coming from. It was Joe and Cherry, with Shadow in between them. Shadow caught Reki’s eye, face starting to morph into one of his classic scowls.

“We need more time,” Reki mouthed quickly and quietly, gesturing towards Joe and Cherry, signaling the florist to distract the two. Shadow nodded, turning to Cherry and saying something that Reki couldn’t hear, the red haired boy sighing in relief as the group turned around, dashing to the store, weaving through the small crowd, yet trying to blend in.

He soon approached the store, ducking inside and heading for the section of the store with all the canned fruits, frantically searching the shelves. Pineapple, peach slices, apricot... it took Reki a good five minutes before he found the jar of cherries that he was looking for. He quickly grabbed it and hurried to the register, throwing a handful of yen at the cashier and running off with the cherries before they could even give him his change.

He slid into the back alley of Joe’s restaurant, banging on the door. Langa answered, being immediately greeted with a panting Reki.

“I got the cherries,” Reki panted, handing them to his friend. “I saw Shadow on my way here, but who knows how much longer the old man can stall Cherry and Joe.”

“We should hurry.” Langa nodded in agreement, handing the jar to Miya. “You two take care of cake. I’ll take care of making the fondant and frosting.” The three of them had been discussing how to decorate Cherry’s cake for several days, and eventually, they settled on frosting it with a homemade cherry buttercream (Langa had once helped Reki make frosting to frost his sister’s birthday cake with, so he knew how to do it) and branches of cherry blossoms made out of fondant. None of them had made anything with fondant before, but they had seen Joe make fondant from scratch enough times to get an idea on how it was made.

“You heard your boyfriend. Come on and help me with this cake!” Miya began draining the cherries again.

“Okay—WAIT A FUCKING SECOND!”

The next two hours were filled with trial and error. As in, 70% error and 30% trial. Reki had cut his finger while helping Langa cut the cherries for the buttercream, and Langa took Reki’s finger and put it in his mouth, his logic being that he saw it in an anime once, and he figured it was some sort of custom in Japan.

Miya had to tug on the extremely flustered Reki’s arm to get it out of Langa’s mouth, and didn’t stop teasing the two about it for ten solid minutes.

Then Reki burned his hand on the oven while putting the cakes in, and while Miya tended to Reki’s injuries, Langa went to put the last cake in the oven and burnt his hand too.

It was, not gonna lie, a disaster.

But in the end, after three and a half hours total of baking, the final result looked pretty great, for the standards of three teenaged boys. Some of the cherry blossoms on the cake were misshapen, and the branches looked like dark brown veins. But the three of them had tried their best.

“I hope Cherry likes it,” Langa said, picking at his bandaged hand. “We worked hard. And me and Reki burnt our hands.”

“I’m positive he’ll like it, Langa! Trust me!” Reki grinned, as Joe’s van pulled up to the front. “Oh, that’s gotta be them!” He bounced on his toes, trying not to move, as they were currently in the dark so Joe and Cherry wouldn’t see them when they first entered the restaurant.

They heard Joe’s keys jingle in the lock, before the door opened, and two pairs of footsteps came inside.

“The hell…? I was sure the lights weren’t off when I came in.”

“You seriously can’t remember something like that?”

“Karou, it’s not a big deal, okay? Just let me get the lights…”

You could hear Joe’s heavy footsteps head towards the light switch on the wall, the lights flicking on shortly after, revealing the appearance of their children.

“SURPRISE!” The three of them yelled, shocking both Joe and Cherry, the latter’s eyes going wide, the former jumping slightly. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“Is… is that a cake?” Cherry asked, pointing to the cake on the table, which had a bottle of champagne and some sparkling water next to it, along with fancy glasses, birthday candles, and a box of matches. “Did you kids make this cake for me?”

“We snuck in here when Joe was leaving to make it,” Langa confirmed. “Me and Reki have the burns to prove it.” He held up his hand, Reki copying him with a stupid grin.

“It’s cherry cake too!” Reki added. “For your S name! Cherry Blossom! We even made fondant how Joe makes it and made cherry blossoms!”

Cherry. His favorite.

He remembered when he and Joe were kids. When Cherry got hurt and fell down, Joe would help him to his feet, and bring him along to the next block, where his grandmother lived, and she would give them both cherry turnovers, full of sweet cherry pie filling and with a flaky crust. It was one of Cherry’s favorite memories, of his entire life.

“Cherry?” Langa’s voice broke the calligrapher out of his trance. “Are you okay? You’re crying.”

Cherry’s hands moved to his cheek, feeling the tears that were streaming down them. He smiled softly, glancing at Joe with a fond look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Now, let’s try this cake.”

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 #sugar's writing #matchablossom #renga #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #miya chinen #cherry blossom #joe #shadow #happy birthday cherry!#i know you're not real but have a birthday offering

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redqueen-hypothesis · 3 years

Text

eternal winter ➳ shaw (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x shaw (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 3939

➳ GENRE: heavy angst, mentions of death, “reincarnation” au

➳ SYNOPSIS: in the winter world, you’re completely alone: except for one man who remembers your name

➳ REMARKS: written to this louder than bombs (bts) x lost in the dream (monsta x) mashup by jem.

Everything burns.

Fire billows all about you, scorching hot and tinting your vision red at the edges as flames lick at the walls, tearing them down slowly and methodically before your eyes. Your skin blisters and cracks, every last bit of moisture swallowed by the fire and you bang desperately at the door, screaming for help with a voice that’s long gone raw with fear.

It’s hot, it hurts.

You hear frenzied, crazed laughter outside the door, a mob cheering, screaming their victory into the night air. This isn’t the first time that something like this has happened, and it certainly isn’t going to be the last. All you’re certain of is one fact.

You know that no one is going to come to save you.

Still, you pound as hard as you can at the door, choking on the burning air, shouting for someone, anyone, until you hear an awful, ominous creaking sound from above you. You glance up, and for a single moment, a flaming beam falls - it fills your vision whole.

Flames and blood. Debris and death.

>>>

You wake up in a dark room with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down the back of your neck. The fire is still fresh in your mind, and when you blink you see crimson flames consuming the room at the corners of your vision. You can still feel the heat, taste the ash on your tongue. Feel your throat burning inside out as you breathe in the fire and brimstone.

Yanking off the covers, you stumble into the kitchen in the dark, grabbing a cup and filling it up with water. You chug it down as fast as you can, almost choking, but the cold water does its job of soothing the phantom burn in your throat.

Slowly, you turn over your hands. No burns, no blisters. Your heart won’t stop pounding wildly in your chest, like a rattle drum without a rhythm. You’re still trapped in that burning room, you aren’t. Every instinct in you is telling you to fight, to flee, to do something so you get out of there alive.

But there isn’t a fire for you to run from. What lies before you is a still, silent apartment. Gardy’s leaves are drooping a little, like you’ve forgotten to water her for a couple of days. You splash the remnants of your cup into the flowerpot and eye the clock on the wall. Same time, same date.

You’re here. You’re alive.

That realization hits you, a punch to the gut, and you sag onto the couch, legs weak. One of your hands run through your hair, damp and matted with sweat. You look like a mess, but there’s no one to see you fall apart.

You’re alive. Your arms curl up around your body, trying to hold the shattered pieces of yourself together. That’s the only consolation you have in this lonely, lonely world.

Sleep eludes you for the rest of the night.

>>>

He’s late.

Glancing down the street, you fiddle with ginkgo charm on your bracelet and adjust the fur lined parka tighter around your body - it’s freezing. The streets are almost completely bare except for the odd person here and there hurriedly trudging home, face tucked into scarves or mufflers against the biting winds. They’re smart. No sane person would want to be out on the streets in this weather.

You must not be very sane, then.

Turning on your favourite news station on the radio, you plug your earbuds in and close your eyes, head tipping back. A familiar excerpt of a press conference is playing, almost like white noise in your ears in place of the howling winter wind.

“The progress of science is one of constant sacrifice, and deaths and injury along the way due to mistakes are inevitable. So whether or not we want to face it, survival of the fittest is an eternal principle of existence - it is what keeps humanity goin-”

Before Lucien’s calm, indifferent voice can finish playing in your ears, someone yanks your left earbud out, plopping down onto the seat next to you carelessly. You know who it is even before you open your eyes. “You’re late.”

“Not by your watch.” Shaw’s voice is a teasing lilt, and when you open your eyes, the first thing you see are lavender silver strands falling into your line of vision. He looks the same as he always does, familiar amber eyes lit with a mischievous fire hovering dangerously close to yours.

You lean back, closing your eyes as he kicks his skateboard into his hand, fingernails drumming against hard plastic. “My watch is broken.”

“I thought I’d keep things interesting for you. Keep you on your toes, you know?” Shaw hums, unrepentant. He glances over at you when you don’t respond. “The weather forecast said it’s going to snow today and I think I’m about to freeze my ass off on this park bench.”

“So all those claims of you having a hot ass must have been false, then.” You reply matter-of-factly, getting to your feet and dusting off your pants. Shaw shoots you a roguish glare, amusement dancing in that bright gaze at your words.

“I’m not sure if you picking up on the way I speak is a good thing.” He cracks a smile as he gets to his feet, stretching like a large cat in the cold. When he’s done popping his knuckles, he holds a hand out to you with a grin. “Let’s go get some hotpot to eat? Your treat.”

You take it. His hand is warm in yours. “Yeah.”

>>>

Few dining outlets are open at this abysmal time, but the Meetery Eatery never ceases to amaze you with its tenacity. The two of you are the only customers in the small store and the single waiter there can’t be happier to finally have something to do - he personally ushers the two of you to your seats, takes your parka, and waits on your orders like he’s serving a king.

You watch him scurry away with your orders, mildly amused. “I didn’t know there was a discount on beef today. We should eat more.”

Shaw raises an eyebrow, already making steady progress through the appetizer: a plate of roasted ground nuts on the table. “I think you’re forgetting that today’s meal is on you?”

“Well, I have to pay you back since the last time it was your treat.” You answer, propping your chin up on the table as you look out the window. It’s started snowing, you realise, white drifting down from the dark sky outside, frost creeping up the sides of the glass. It’s a perfect winter world, you muse to yourself silently, watching the snow gradually building up on the streets and the pavements outside. A snow globe trapped in time.

“What are you thinking about?”

You snap out of your thoughts to see that Shaw has absolutely demolished all the appetizers on the table, including the chopped chili and garlic cloves. He pats his belly with a leather clad hand in satisfaction, before looking in the direction you had been staring at. “Fuck, it’s snowing already. Getting home in all that snow is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“There seem to be a lot of problems with your ass today.” You say, sipping on your glass of water. Shaw lets out a snort, but it turns into something more subdued and serious - an expression that doesn’t suit him. “What was it this time?”

You tap the rim of your glass with disinterested eyes. Tap, tap, tap. There’s a fire extinguisher at the pillar next to you and the kitchen is far from the exit, things you’d noticed that the second you stepped into the eatery. Crimson curls at the edges of your vision, devouring the walls, the wooden tables, Shaw’s serious expression becomes clouded over with black smoke. You blink once, exhale. “A fire.”

Your voice comes out steady, but it’s when Shaw wraps a single hand around yours that you realise your hands are trembling. He grips your hand painfully tight, almost enough to bruise. He hesitates for a second before speaking. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“The connection was down. Something must have happened to the land wires.”

There’s a tight set to his jaw, his amber eyes darkening. He looks like he’s ready to punch somebody, and you know what question he’s going to ask next from the look on his face. “Wh-”

“Our beef hotpot special, sir, ma’am! I hope you enjoy!” The waiter interrupts with a pot of broth and a few plates of beef stacked on each arm. When he sees the two of you with fingers entwined, the dark expression on Shaw’s face, he pauses, looking a little lost. “Should I... have waited?”

“Good food shouldn’t have to wait.” You say lightly, pulling your hand away from Shaw’s. His lips are pulled into a harsh line, eyebrows pulled into a scowl. “Come on, now. You’re going to put out the hotpot fire with such a frigid expression.” The waiter quickly sets everything out before the two of you and beats a hasty escape without another word. The poor man must be quite terrified by the stormy look on Shaw’s face. You don’t blame him.

“Still, you could have found some other way to contact me, I would have-” You hold a hand over Shaw’s mouth, cutting his words off mid-sentence. It’s bad enough that you can’t sleep at night, and you don’t need him blaming himself for it, silly as it may be. “Let’s talk about this after dinner. Help me turn on the gas?”

With a heavy sigh that you feel against the palm of your hand, Shaw reaches over to turn the knob, sees the way you flinch at the sound of gas catching alight. His mouth tightens, but he relents. “Fine. Let’s eat.”

>>>

Dinner is a more lighthearted affair, with Shaw bragging loudly about the scores he’s gotten on his archaeology project while you reminisce about your times as a stressed out university student. You manage a laugh or two when he tells you about one of his rare skateboard fails, and by the time Shaw calls for some alcohol, the mood is warm and quiet.

“Are you even at drinking age? I could get into trouble for this.” You ask as you watch Shaw down a cup of rice wine as easily as it were plain drinking water. Shaw lets out a snort.

“If I can kill a man, I think I can hold a drink. ‘s not like we’re going to get into trouble for this, anyway. Who’s going to be able to arrest me?” He raises another glass with a cocky smirk and knocks it down his throat.

You know who could. Amber eyes burn into the back of your mind, almost too similar to the ones looking back at you right now. A white policeman’s jacket, golden ginkgo leaves, and strong, calloused hands. A tender smile whose memory is starting to fray at the edges, fading to white.

“No one.” You answer, and take your own glass. “No one anymore.”

At your words, Shaw falls silent. He doesn’t look at you, and instead focuses on the bottle between the two of you instead.

The sky has fallen dark outside the window, a blanket of white covering the streets and pavements. The world beyond the window is buried in stark white, clean, pure and most of all, cold.

“Stay over at my house tonight.”

You look up from pulling your parka over your shoulders for a moment, a little surprised. “You must be quite drunk, aren’t you?”

Shaw rolls his eyes. “I’m completely sober. As if that diluted stuff would be able to make me tipsy.” You’re pinned in place by that sharp gaze. “I mean it. Stay over at my place. You won’t be able to get home in all this snow, and my apartment is closer. Also,” he fishes about in the lining of his black leather jacket, “I have an umbrella.”

He proudly presents to you a black, compact umbrella. It looks brand new.

You stare down at the umbrella in his hands for a second before you start to laugh, shoulders shaking. “Alright.”

The umbrella is too small for either one of you. Shaw holds it between the two of you and you make your way back to his house together, boots crunching in the snow.

>>>

Shaw has thirteen umbrellas in his house. Ten of them are black.

“I just need one at the ready all the time, that’s all.” Shaw grumbles as he steps out of the shower, toweling his damp hair dry. You turn from where you’d found the last umbrella, tossed behind the television screen. You ignore the stray pair of boxers that you’d found there as well.

“You’re supposed to re-use them.” You tell him, moving to slump onto the couch. Shaw joins you on it, drying his hair in the comfortable silence that follows as you scroll through your phone.

He passes a cursory glance over you, you’re wearing one of his old shirts but it’s still far too large on you, the collar slipping off one of your shoulders. That shirt has never looked as good on him as it does on you, and he has half a mind to ask you to keep it. His usual hard amber eyes soften marginally. “You’re taking the couch.”

“I wouldn’t want to sleep in your bed. Who knows what kind of weird stuff you get up to there with your girlfriends? The sheets must be filthy.”

Shaw makes a face at your words. “I’m not dating anyone.” He feels like he needs to emphasize this fact.

“Ah, wrong word. I meant, colorful friends.”

He throws his hands up in the air and turns to the bedroom. “You’re insufferable. I’m going to go get a pillow and blanket for you. There’s no need to thank me for my generosity.” Your laughter follows after his footsteps.

>>>

In the middle of the night, your scream has Shaw scrambling out of bed.

He’s stumbling over his own feet in the dark, nearly tripping over the sheets as he bursts out of the room. You’re a thrashing, dark shape on the couch, twisting in the blanket he’d covered you with, and he feels his heart plunge into the pit of his stomach.

“Hey!” Shaw calls your name sharply, grabbing you by the wrists before you can hurt yourself. His fingers can encircle them whole, and he’s almost worried you might snap in his grip. “Oi, wake up! It’s just a nightmare!”

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved when your eyes fly open, wild gaze darting every direction in terror. You look like you’ve been chased within an inch of your life, trembling under his touch, skin deathly cold with fear. “Everything’s burning!” You shake your head frantically, gripping Shaw’s forearms so tight he can feel ten crescents digging into his skin. “The fire, it’s spreading and they locked me in, I can’t get out-”

Not knowing what else to do, he grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to focus on his eyes. He can feel every one of your unsteady, shallow breaths on his lips.

“I’m here.” Seems to be the only thing he can say, stroking fingers calloused from playing the bass over your cheeks, awkward and clumsy in their comfort. It’s alright now. “You’re good. You’re here. With me.”

“The fire.” You mumble, now sounding dazed. “There was a fire, and I died again. I...” Your voice becomes raw, choking over your own tears. “I burned to death and it was so hot. I feel like I’m still burning.” He doesn’t think you even realise that he’s there, holding you as you tremble in his grasp.

“It’s over.” Shaw tries to make his voice as steady as possible. His dear estranged brother would be so much better at this, Gavin was the rock while he was the flighty one, had always been, but Gavin doesn’t remember you.

Not in this world. Not anymore.

Shaw knows better than anyone else that he isn’t a smidgen good at comforting someone. His fists itch to break a few jaws, preferably of those of the anti-EVOL extremists that had no doubt trapped you in that burning room and left you for dead. That’s what he’s good for: fighting, beating people up. Not this emotional I’ll-be-your-rock kind of stuff, because Shaw is about as unreliable as unreliable can get.

“I’ll get some water for you.” He manages, trying to rise to his feet. But before he can stand, you’re gripping his hand with a strength he didn’t know you had, eyes wide and terrified. Your palms are clammy against his skin.

“Shaw, don’t go. Please.”

Your eyes are screaming at him in the dark, raw with pain and fear, your hand latched tight onto his as if he’s your anchor in the storm - and he doesn’t know whether to feel proud or feel terrified.

He thinks it’s the latter.

>>>

He should have never gotten involved with you. It’d been fun at first, watching you stumble around the cold, lonesome winter world alone like a baby fawn taking its clumsy first step. He’d taken you by the hand with a teasing grin, pulled you into his silly whims, played with you like a child with a new favourite toy. That open eyed innocence would be your undoing, he knew, and he’d wondered how you were going to survive. It would be a perfect show to entertain him, he thought.

It wasn’t.

The first time you died, Shaw had not known. He woke up like he always did, and it had been the same day, same routine. Shrug on that black jacket and slip an umbrella onto his person before grabbing his skateboard and making his way to Loveland University to collect his grades for a project. He had a good feeling about it.

That was until he’d crashed into you, déjà vu hitting him like a punch in the gut. You had been trembling, shaking, white with fear, spilling out the strangest things. A bridge had exploded while you were on it, trying to get people to safety, and you had plunged down into the waters below-

Same date. Same time. A broken watch on your wrist.

Shaw had managed a grin at your frazzled state. You were still that baby fawn with too wide eyes, trying to make things right in the world on your own. You would definitely survive this time - and win - because that’s what good people did. He had continued to watch the play unfolding before him.

Under his watch, it happened again.

Again, again, again, spiraling into a dark and twisted night, where waking up from one nightmare only meant being thrust into another. He watched as the four people he’d once laughed at for being at your every beck and call fade from your life and forget you, sinking seamlessly into the black abyss of this winter daydream. He watched as you died again and again, from car crashes to riots to sheer natural phenomenon, only to come back to where it had begun all over again, like a never ending cycle.

And suddenly, one day, it really wasn’t fun anymore.

For the first time, you had called the number on his phone, gasping. He’d been asleep in his bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, a nameless girl curled up naked next to him. Shaw had been annoyed at the late night call, understandably so, but he had told you to give him a call whenever you found yourself in a tight spot - it’d be more fun to watch the action up close. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for you to gasp out those two tiny words, voice raw and strangled with agony.

“I’m dying.”

He’d shot out of the bed, ignoring the calls from the girl he’d left alone in the bedroom (bad manners, he knew, but couldn’t give a shit) as he yanked on his jeans and shirt, already halfway out of the door. He remembered shouting your name into his phone, demanding you to give him your location or better yet, call an ambulance.

You didn’t.

“It’s too late, I know what dying feels like.” You had croaked weakly into the phone. A hate attack launched against Evolvers by anti-EVOL extremists, you had told him the next time you had seen him, eyes hollow and empty. A masked man, a knife in the gut and that had left you bleeding out in a dirty alleyway, dead in a pool of your own blood.

Then why call me? He had wanted to scream into the phone. Why tell me you’re dying when I can’t do a damn thing, just like always?

It had felt like mockery. Shaw wanted to die at that moment.

“I just... didn’t want to die alone.” You had apologised, each breath weaker than the last. You were dying and he couldn’t do a thing, goddammit. “I wanted to call to someone, anyone, but no one remembered me. Shaw... I’m alone. You’re the only one who does.”

Shaw’s breath had caught in the back of his throat. Fuck.

Don’t expect anything from me, he wanted to shout at you. Even if I’m the only person left in the world, I’ll fail you just like I failed my family all those years ago. Find someone else to rely on - just not on me.

But the truth had been terrifyingly simple, laid bare in that stark, white winter world. He was the only one you had left.

“Thanks for being here, Shaw. ”

You had died on the other side of the phone that night. Shaw had been left at the side of an empty street, fist clutching his own phone tightly to his ear even as nothing but silence filled his mind. And as world began to shift once more, collapsing into a new state of reality, he had sworn one thing.

He’d be there for you.

>>>

In the darkness of his living room, Shaw can barely make out your features, but he knows they’re twisted with the pain of nightmares, from the lives you’ve lived and deaths you’ve died. He grunts, rubbing at his temples and makes up his mind.

“Scoot over.”

He presses into the couch next to you and it creaks under his added weight, clearly too small to fit the two of you onto it. It’s ridiculously cramped, but Shaw pulls you onto him and tosses the blanket over both of you, drawing you close. “I’m here.” He grips your hand tight in his. If anyone had told him he’d end up saying words like these, ever, he’d laughed and punched them in the face for good measure. “We’ll fix this damn world together.”

You’re silent, and for a moment, Shaw wonders if you’ve fallen asleep, exhausted by your nightmares. Then he feels warmth land on his cheek, his nose, his eyelids, and can’t bring himself to move, frozen with shock.

“It would kill me if you forgot me too, Shaw.” Your voice is a broken whisper, and Shaw wants nothing more than to hide from you - it’s like your raw honesty has dragged out the innermost depths of who he is before you, taking him your willing prisoner. “So don’t make me fall in love with you, okay?”

“Okay.” He promises, with a single breath.

He knows it’s already too late for him.

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc shaw #shaw #ling xiao #mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice shaw

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