#fancy loser cook
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that's Sanji alright
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Loser Catboy Streamer gets paid big bucks to promote the reopening of a fancy cafe by hosting a meet and greet for fans. They're insulted - offended the owners think they'd sell themself for some quick cash and demean themselves further by throwing on a maid dress for their pathetic simps, but a few more zeros helps them squeeze into the outfit a lot easier.
In the same venue where they're being smothered by fans and exchanging handshakes for entire life savings, an important business meeting takes place. Most of the table is annoyed that their peaceful spot had been overrun by some bad-mouthed stray and the folks who enable their ways, but the head of the table sees something different. They rise from their seat to address the commotion as the steamer harshly shoves a guest who'd grabbed their tail without permission out the booth they shared.
-
"Cat."
Fixing your skirt and hiding your tail beneath, posion sits on your tongue directed at the next person to bother you quickly swallow as you turn your eyes towards them. A chilling ran down your spine from their cold stare and physique to uphold their hardened look. Defined muscles salient through the binds of their tight suit, healing scars over the bones of their knuckles and fists. You will your terror into a smile as you shrink under their gaze.
"S-sorry if we were being too loud. The last customer pulled on my tail pretty hard and-
You flinch as they slam their hand down on the table - sliding a rolled wad of bills towards you.
"Come here...."
Eyeing them cautiously, you snatch the money as they sit in the booth inches from you. You scoot over, hairs on end as their large hand shuts the short distance bewteen you. You expect brute force to snap your neck like a twig as their fingers come into contact with your skin - curling upwards to scratch light at your chin. You purr softly - smile forming on their scarred lips.
"Good kitty. You're coming with me."
"But, my contract says I have to be here for another-"
The strangers places another stack of bills in your apron.
"I'll... go get my coat."
-
Where their underlings see a wild beast that should be locked in a cage, the boss sees a lost kitten in need. All that attention on them yet nobody's taking care of them properly telling by their diet and inability to groom themselves on a regular bases. The boss takes them in and handles these faults while catboy reader wonders what sort of hell they've gotten themselves into. They can't be too upset with frequent spa trips and fresh home-cooked meals, but sometimes they do miss being able to stuff garbage into their mouth. Living with their new "owner", they still stream everyday which their caretaker uses to monitor them while at work. They're given odd glances for watching a cat streamer stream video games in their position, but no one is brave enough to even whisper about their odd behavior.
Loser Catboy sometimes joins them at the office, sitting in their lap as any normal cat would. They absolutely hate wearing their collar, but diamonds do look amazing on them
#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere headcanons#catboy reader#hybrid reader#tw yandere
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Crowley: You'll be working as a janitor if you want to stay here for free.
MC: That includes food, shelter, clothes, and shower privilege, right?
Crowley: Why... yes. But nothing fancy.
MC: I don't expect that you would anyway. Where are the cleaning supplies?
Crowley: U-Uhm... *smiles* The ghosts will provide you.
Grim: Ugh... Why are we cleaning?
MC: *cleaning the windows on the 3rd floor* No one's asking you to clean, Grim. It's my job, not yours.
Grim: But it's scary to stay in Ramshackle alone!
MC: What are you scared of? Spiderwebs? Old floorboards? Tch.
The students: Haha! Look! A janitor!
Student A: Hey! My room's messy! You should clean it next!
Student B: And my room too!
The students: *laughs*
Grim: Nrrhhh!
MC: Grim, hand me the bucket.
Grim: Huh?
MC: Just hand me the bucket.
Grim: Okay. What will you do with tha—
MC: *throws the dirty water to the students below*
The students: *yells in disgust*
The students: Yuck! Smells like mud!
MC: Ara~ Sorry, sorry~ My hand slipped. *smiles*
Student A: You bitch! You did it on purpose—
MC: *looks at them menacingly* Huh? I said that my hand slipped. Didn't you hear me?
The students: *gulps* *talks to themselves and leaves*
Grim: Nyahaha! Losers!
MC: Grim, go get me a clean bucket of water.
Grim: Huh?! But you just dropped it.
MC: The water in it was dirty. Go get me a new batch. I'm too lazy to climb off.
Grim: Nrhh! Fine!
Crowley: Thank you for your hard work! I expect that you'll do the same tomorrow.
MC: *yawns* *waves their hand dismissively* Go away. I still need to cook.
Crowley: Alright. Please excuse me and enjoy the rest of your day. *then disappears*
MC: *mutters* That still freak me out the fuck...
Grim: Hench-human...
MC: What?
Grim: I'm hungry...
MC: Alright. I'll cook now. Just gnaw on the lamp post while you wait.
Grim: Nryah! No way I'll do that!
MC: *laughs*
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Dark wonbin who wants his younger brother's gf or wife. He saw his chance one day and didn't let go of the opportunity
[ Have it all ]
Trigger warning: cheating, loser Sohee, slight degradation, blowjob.
"Thank you, you are always so sweet. My doll." He thanked, his gaze sweeping over every inch of your body. You smiled, attempting to push aside the uncomfortable feeling; he is your boyfriend's older brother, for goodness sake; of course, you are like a child to him, which is why he called you his doll in an endearing way, right?
"Where are you going?" He inquired as he set his plate aside after finishing the pasta you prepared for him. You gave him a quick glance as you noticed how close he leaned to you. "Out with sohee" you replied, you had a date planned with sohee who was currently upstairs playing video games while you were here left alone with his older brother.
Wonbin let out a sigh that dripped with fake concern, finishing it off with a chuckle that sounded more like a smirk. "Seriously, you're like an angel,doll" he drawled, voice smooth as butter. "Always picking up his slack, cooking fancy meals he probably doesn't even appreciate, and cheering him on like his personal hype squad when he gets owned in his games. Makes me kinda, y'know, sad for you, sweets." He clicked his tongue and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear in a way that felt more practiced than sweet.
"Don't you deserve better?" His question hung in the air like a loaded question. You gulped, the truth of his words burning a hole in your stomach. He wasn't wrong. You were more like Sohee's mom than his girlfriend, his therapist instead of his partner and sexual pleasure? It was something you never got from Sohee. It was embarrassing to even try having sex with him because he knew nothing, it was pathetic to say the least but you still love him and Sohee loved you, in his own kinda immature way, and sex isn't the only thing which matters right? You can definitely swallow down your frustrations.
"I'll leave now." You tried to sprint upstairs but he held your wrist ''Always so eager to escape, doll'' he drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes. ''Shying away and flushing whenever I'm near... wouldn't anyone mistake it for something more, hmm?'' you were momentarily shook at his audacity before you snapped back, giving him a venomous look "The only one with such delusions is you." Your words caused him to let out a chuckle as he was about to reply, Sohee came downstairs causing you to yank out your wrist from wonbin's grip.
"Baby, I won!" Sohee bounced on the couch, the screen of his phone flashing victory like a miniature lightning storm. You managed a tight smile, your mind churning with the unsettling encounter moments ago. Should you tell him about Wonbin's strange behaviour? Would he believe you? or shrug it off since sohee idolized his handsome brother the most, he always wanted to be like Wonbin. Talking about how he has everyone wrapped around his fingers, no one could ever deny him. He was all it.
"Oh, are we going somewhere?" Sohee asked noticing you dolled up, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling playfully. Your blank stare momentarily dimmed his enthusiasm, but he quickly countered with a wider smile "I guess we are. let me just grab my wallet baby!" Sohee chirped, already bounding up the stairs. His carefree laughter echoed down, each step lighter than a dandelion seed on a summer breeze
Your attention was brought back to Wonbin who let out a mocking chuckle leaning closer to you ear, "Think about what I said," he'd murmured, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The glint in his eyes, usually full of pride, had held a chilling possessiveness, a stark contrast to his easygoing facade. It was an audacity born of privilege, of a world where his handsome face had always opened doors, the mere flicker of attention from you, his "loser" brother's chosen one, a personal affront to his inflated ego. How dare you look beyond his carefully crafted charm? He deserves to use you for his pleasure not his pathetic brother who can't even get himself to cum.
The entire date with sohee was silencing from your side, you spent most of the time replaying the scenes between you and Wonbin again and again. His sly touches, his longing gazes always did fluster you but you have never thought about having him. He is your boyfriend's brother after all. This was ridiculous of you to even think. He made you uncomfortable and uneasy, that's it.
When you were back from the date, sohee dropped you first at his home, saying he will be back in few minutes as he has some errands to run. You agreed hoping Wonbin isn't in the home currently but you were wrong when you were met with most weird sight ever, he was there sitting on the couch manspreading, his hands pumping his cock furiously as he let out soft moans. The sight had you gasping which caught his attention.
"Back from your little playdate baby?" He asked between his moans. "What the fuck!" You cursed out ready to run out and expose his behaviour to Sohee but instead of that you stood there watching, your feet refusing to move. Why weren't you running? "Come on doll, we all know my brother doesn't deserve you. I know it all."
"He can't even get you to cum, that sweet little pussy of yours deserves to be pleasured, by someone like me." His words had your eyes widened. How did he even know about your private sex life? Did Sohee tell him? Wonbin chuckled at your shocked expression, his hands still jerking off his cock "I know everything baby, let me give you the pleasure which he can never give you." You were supposed to agree or walk up to him but the way your deepest desires took over you. You found yourself on your knees in front of him, his cock deep in your mouth as he let out the nastiest and toe curling moans ever. Pulling on your hair he murmured, "So good, f-fuck. I'll give you twice as much pleasure baby" you rubbed your thighs together to find some relief which didn't go unnoticed by Wonbin who let out a chuckle at your desperation.
"You look so pretty doll, when you are not using your bitchy mouth to defend that little boyfriend of yours, your delicate hands look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I always knew you were a little slut inside, what will Sohee think? Have him watch us? Teach him one or two things, yeah?" His words caused to whimper on his cock as you felt your cheeks flush in humiliation. Wonbin gave a devilish grin feeling satisfied that he tore your walls down, he knew it, everyone deserves some good fucking and you were no better, After all who could ever deny him? He is the one with everything his brother lacks. He knew you were just pretending to be loyal to his loser brother, pretending to just love him, when he could not even pleasure your little pussy. Speaking of him-
"H-Hyung?"
#riize smut#dark riize#kpop smut#riize x reader#riize wonbin smut#wonbin smut#wonbin x reader#riize wonbin#riize wonbin x reader#tw cheating
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Zosan haircut time!!!!
had to write this after getting the idea from my last post lmao. I love the idea of Sanji being like "ugh you look fucking terrible" and then forcing Zoro to take care of himself. they're so stupid and gay and in love omg.
beginning part is mostly Zoro and Nami but that's ok because they're wlw/mlm solidarity always!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More than anything, Zoro loves sunbathing on the Sunny's deck. Something about the warm light makes him want to melt into the wood. However, Zoro finds it very hard to enjoy the sun when it is boiling outside, and he swears he can hear his sweat sizzle when it meets the wooden flooring.
"We're going through a summer climate, just wait it out." Nami sips on her martini, laid out on a lounge chair and taking cover under an umbrella.
"Easy for you to say, you witch. You stole all the shade." While Nami's basking in the shadow of her parasol, Zoro's sprawled out on deck, sweating his fucking balls off. His whole body is damp, and he's stripped down into just a pair of loose shorts to cool off.
"Go hang out with your boyfriend in the kitchen," She says.
"He's not my boyfriend. I fucking hate you."
"The feeling's mutual, you sweaty loser."
Zoro groans, peeling himself off of the floor to sit up and comb his fingers through his shaggy hair. It's too long to stay out of the way, and it's uncomfortably wet where it sticks to his forehead. Zoro would tie it back, but it's too short for that. In short, he is suffering.
"I'm gonna die from heatstroke because of you," Zoro shakes the excess moisture from his hands.
Nami scoffs. "Stop whining, hop in the sea or something."
Zoro briefly considers this, but decides that's more effort than it's worth and tries to take a nap instead.
Zoro hears someone stroll out of the galley, and cracks his eye open to see Sanji balancing a tray of smoothies in one hand with a beach towel in the other. He's dressed down, an open Hawaiian shirt and blue shorts replacing his usual suit.
"Hello, my darling, Nami-san! I've just prepared smoothies. Would you like one?"
"Yes, Sanji-- thank you so much," She says smugly, while looking directly at Zoro. "You're a saint, You know that?"
He watches the cook hand Nami a drink from the tray, and Sanji's eyes follow her gaze to the floor where he's lying. "Oh my god, marimo. you look like -excuse my language, Nami-san- a fucking caveman."
"What are you talking about?" Zoro would pick a fight, but it's way too hot to bother.
The blonde cringes. "Your hair looks like someone ate it and then spat it back out onto your head."
"Okay, well, fuck you too then!" God, everyone's out for him today. What has Zoro ever done to deserve this?
"Ugh. Stand up, you dunce." Sanji nudges Zoro's head with a sandaled foot. "You need a haircut."
"I can give myself a haircut." Zoro nods in the direction of his swords, trying to move as little as possible.
"Are you insa- no! I'm cutting your hair, properly. Now get up."
"I don't wanna."
"I swear to god," Sanji sighs. "My dearest Nami, do you mind holding this for a bit?"
Nami peers at the two of them through her oversized sunglasses, a knowing smirk on her face as she takes the tray from Sanji's hands. "No problem."
Zoro doesn't have time to get a word in before Sanji reaches for his ear and bodily drags him all the way to the bathroom.
-----
"I don't understand how you let it get this bad," The blonde lectures.
Zoro grumbles as he slouches on a stool in front of the bathroom sink, glaring at his own reflection. Sanji was partially right with his comment earlier - Zoro's hair is a damp, scraggly mess on top of his head right now.
From where he is, Zoro can see the cook as he lines up all his fancy hair-cutting stuff, whispering insults under his breath. He looks kind of...domestic, out of his suit. It's the one thing Zoro appreciates whenever the Sunny passes through climates like this.
"Okay, I'm going to attempt to fix this mess, and you are going to stay still," Sanji asserts as he slides into place behind Zoro. "as in, do not move."
"I know what 'stay still' means."
"Surprising. I thought you only spoke in grunts."
They both fall silent, Sanji draping a towel over Zoro's shoulders and clicking a button on the clippers in his hand. Gentle fingers push Zoro's head forward to access the strands at the nape of his neck. The whirring of the machinery and Sanji's hums every now and then are the only sounds in the cramped bathroom, and Zoro almost falls asleep to the feeling of the blond's hands in his hair.
"Hey." Sanji delivers two sharp taps to the back of Zoro's head. "Stop slouching, you're making it uneven."
"I'm so hot."
"I'm sure you are, you meathead. sit up."
Zoro begrudgingly straightens his back, getting a better view of the cook's freckled face reflected in the mirror. He always gets freckles when it's sunny out. They look like little constellations, scattered across his cheeks like that. Zoro wants to touch them so badly.
A few minutes pass, and Sanji moves to the front of his hair, taking a black comb from the counter to parse through the mess draping over Zoro's forehead. His face is scrunched in concentration, a crease between his eyebrows visible as he snips away with a pair of silver scissors. Zoro just...watches, staring intently into the other man's eyes. He's not sure if he's delirious from the heat, but is the cook's face turning red?
Sanji pauses his ministrations to frown at him. "Stop fucking looking at me. It's creepy."
"Sorry, sir." That earns him a snort and another smack to the side of his head. Zoro closes his eye (reluctantly. very reluctantly).
It feels like forever before Sanji finishes up his hair, ruffling it slightly before commanding Zoro to open his eyes.
The haircut is cropped close to his neck in the back, his overgrown sideburns shaped to follow his hairline. His hair is still a bit long on top, but it doesn't fall over his face.
Zoro's reflection looks better; neat, almost. He actually really likes it.
"It's okay, I guess." Zoro's lying through his teeth. It's fantastic, anything Sanji ever does is fantastic.
Sanji looks at him through the mirror. "Hm. Handsome little marimo." He nods in self-approval before packing up all his stuff, whisking the towel from around Zoro's shoulders to take to the laundry room.
Zoro sits there, bewildered, watching the other man maneuver around the tiny space unbothered- what?
He turns to look at Sanji as the blonde saunters out of the bathroom, definitely already busying himself with something else.
When Zoro turns back to his reflection, he doesn't fight the tiny smile that crosses his face. Sanji thinks he's Handsome.
The smile's gone just as quick as it came, replaced with a scowl as he hears a female voice giggling through the wall to his right.
"Nami, I'm going to murder you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nami was eavesdropping the entire time lmfao.
Nami, to Zoro: wow so handsome!! such a handsome wittle marimo arent you so wittle?? ooga booga doo!!!
Zoro: i am not above killing lesbians.
Anyway BRAND NEW HC that Sanji gets freckles when he's in the sun he's such a cutie patootie i love him.
Pre-slash Zosan domesticity fuels my soul <33333
ALSOO!!! opening up asks cuz im running out of ideas :P if you ask me for something I'll probably write it thanks
#one piece#zosan#stupid gay people#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#zosan brainrot#cat burglar nami#one piece nami#platonic zonami CANON#wlw/mlm solidarity#does this even count as a ficlet anymore#my posts are getting progressively longer with each one i write#its 4am#i haven't slept in 72 hours
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Shopping Trip With One Piece Characters
Part of a trade with the awesome @softcenteregg
Doffy
- The very definition of “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”
Has money but you will have to pay for him all day when it comes to lunch and drinks.
Will be sitting at a restaurant at 11 am with a cocktail as he tells you about his week, regardless of if you asked or not.
Checks out the mall hotties.
Laughs when people open push/pull doors wrong.
Always has a cocktail or a Starbucks clutched in one hand, waving his credit card around in the other hand.
Rude to salespeople.
You will be dragged through the mall for hours because he needs to go into every designer shop he can and try on at least seventeen pairs of $400 sunglasses or he’ll die.
Will be the most overdressed person in the area,
When your having lunch with him and he sees someone he doesn’t like, he will be like “Oh hey! Been so long since we hung out, should do it again soon!” then soon as they're gone he’s dishing the dirt.
Also, you will carry his bags, thx.
Roger
Makes you wish you could get those reigns for kids but in adult sizes.
In fact, the entire trip is like taking a child out for his birthday.
Ever seen a huge bearded man grinning in pure glee at the new limited edition Build a Bear products? Ever seen one make like 12?
Do yourself a favor and limit his booze and sugar intake.
Is confused he can’t do a pub crawl in a mall.
Buys alot of those ‘alcoholic chocolates’ by the box load in an attempt to get a nice buzz going.
Thrift shopping but he will try on everything he can.
Does not know how to dress but does it with style, oddly enough.
You won’t get a chance to sit down or rest unless it’s dinner time.
At least he’ll sleep well tonight.
Kid
Hit’s all the stores that sell music and band merch.
Will snort at people who buy things he doesn’t like.
Throws around words like ‘poser’ and judges everyone.
The kinda metal kid who hangs out at the mall with all the wallet chains looking like their parents grounded them, but in their late 20s.
Will spend hours looking for CDs and just say he’s too broke and he’ll download it online anyway.
Walks around the mall trying to find the right shade of lipstick with Killer, both their arms and hands are covered in testers before they both just get more black nail varnish and the same shade they always buy.
Has a reusable plastic cup that's full of jack and coke.
Taunts mall cops.
Killer
Imagine all of the above but he also spends alot of time looking at fancy new cook wear.
Will spend nothing on food all day but will drop $90 on a brand new crockpot or air fryer for the kitchen.
Very metal of him.
Thatch
Thatch is fun to go with.
Treats you, buys the coffee and lunch.
Is happy to do whatever you want as long as he gets to check out homeware sections while you look at your things.
You will never lose him behind shelves because you can always see his hair.
Like Jaws but with hair and ozone layer murdering levels of hairspray.
Will flirt with staff, will get talking to them for far too long, and hold up the line.
The type of person who has alot of change and makes it a personal challenge to count out change exactly.
Will carry your bags though, he’s a good boy.
Bit judgey on eatery places pastries.
Shanks
I hope you enjoy getting nowhere because when you're at a mall with Shanks or out and about in town you will be stopping every ten steps because someone recognises him and comes over and chats.
Has no concept of how long he’s been talking.
Is the type to have a pint with breakfast or brunch when you guys hang out.
Sale on ugly pants? He’d push you down to get there first.
Always texting the gang when he’s out.
Lol Benn guess what, I saw Buggy and he was with that guy, you know, the one with the hook, lol lol
Will drop Uta off at the mall kids' soft play area even though she’s 18 and still forget to pick her up before leaving.
Ace
Low key baits mall cops by loitering around and looking like an issue but has no intention of being an issue.
Might skateboard inside the mall.
Poses with ‘no skateboard’ signs.
Hopefully, there isn't an arcade in the mall because if you had any intention of getting things done today, that won’t happen now.
Hungry every 20 minutes and has to grab snacks.
100% the kinda friend/boyfriend who sits on the seats outside the changing rooms holding all the bags and groaning, acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.
Is one of those people who opens push/pull doors wrong.
Marco
After taking five minutes to park correctly he’s happy to go with the flow.
Likes to have a coffee and a people watch with you, chatty and social.
But he will drag you to shoe stores and you will be sat there for ages as he tries on every strappy sandal in the place, walking up and down and asking you what you think.
“I like this one but I don’t know if it makes me too tall yoi.” while you can’t for the life of you tell the difference between that pair and the last 40.
If you meet him at the mall he might be late, very much the shows up 20 minutes late with Starbucks.
Has a tendency to wander off in shops and you spend half your time looking for him.
Doesn’t give a warning when entering a shop if something shiny caught his bird brain.
Benn
He hates the mall.
Imagine a dad who has to take his teenage daughter clothes shopping and that’d basically be him with Shanks.
Benn is a very ‘I know what I am here for’ in and out kind of person but he doesn’t mind going to other places with you.
Ignores staff-only signs when he knows there is a smoking area on the other side of that door.
Is the person to remind you of the ‘insert thing here we have at home’ and is a shop sensible person, though he won't say anything if you do buy another T-shirt that looks exactly like the one you already have.
Pretends to be annoyed at carrying the shopping, but he offered and he likes to help you out.
If you complain about your feet hurting he’ll helpfully tell you he told you to wear your other shoes.
Sabo and Luffy
Banned
Both have their pictures up in the security office.
Sabo for giving the mall cops the finger, graffiti, and shoplifting.
Luffy peed in the fountain and kept stealing pick-n-mix.
#one piece x reader#one piece reader insert#marco the phoenix#one piece x you#sfw#one piece#portgas d ace#red haired pirates#red haired shanks#fire fist ace#fushichou marco#thatch#ace op#marco op#shanks op#benn op#benn beckman#gol d roger#sabo#sabo the revolutionary#monkey d luffy#monkey d luffy x reader#massacre soldier killer#eustass kid#eustasscaptainkid#doffy#doflamingo#doflamingo x reader
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You Learn Something New Everyday... I Guess
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: none really, just Matt being a little self loathing
Genre: fluff? very very minor angst
Summary: You have a theory about your local vigilante that your friends think is silly (spoiler alert; it's literally not)
A/N: Because I refuse to believe no one has ever seen Daredevil and considered the fact that he is NEVER LOOKIN AT SHIT
***
You spin the straw in your drink while half listening to Foggy and Karen talk to each other about something you lost track of a little while ago. Something about a case last you were paying attention but they tend to spend so much time talking about work even on nights out you can't always keep track of it all.
"So what're your thoughts about the whole thing?" Karen asks as you stare into your glass.
"Y/n!" Foggy nudges you and your eyes snap up.
"Yes! Sorry. What was the question?" You ask.
"Daredevil, what're your thoughts on him?" Foggy nods towards the TV in the bar that's apparently playing a news story about Daredevil's latest escapades.
"He doesn't see." You shrug looking back at your drink.
"Doesn't see what?" Foggy frowns.
"Sorry, that's not quite what I meant to say; I meant he doesn't use his eyes to fight." You say looking up again.
"Wait what?" Karen shakes her head.
"I dunno, the eyes in his mask look opaque but also if you've ever watched him fight he doesn't really... look at things. The whole time his head does this twitchy thing like when dogs hear a sound but can't see it, as if he's trying to hear everything better." You explain.
"Are you- suggesting that Daredevil... is blind?" Karen asks.
"Well it's hard to know for sure if he's completely blind or not but I'd bet that he's probably at least visually impaired."
"You think a vigilante is visually impaired." Foggy scoffs.
"I know it sounds absurd but I mean before the fancy suit and the moniker he was the man in black, he wore like a black cloth that covered his eyes he's obviously not using them." You shrug.
"Maybe he could see through it." He says.
"No- for it to be sheer enough for him to see through it, especially at night it would also probably be sheer enough to see him through, at least in the light, and he's got like an airtight lock on his secret identity. Even before he had the suit." You shake your head. "Maybe that's why." You add with a hum.
"Maybe what's why?"
"If he's visually impaired as I suspect he is, nobody would believe he's Daredevil! I mean he takes on gangs singlehandedly in the shadows of Hell's Kitchen all the time there's no way you'd expect a blind man to be doing all that. It would make the perfect cover story, plus if he gets injured I mean- he's blind nobody would question him saying he bumped into something or fell or even someone threw something and he didn't know. It's kind of genius."
"Look who decided to join us!" Karen smiles excitedly and you turn to see Matt standing between you and Foggy.
"About time loser! Why are all of you so obsessed with work?" You scoff.
"Hi guys." He chuckles.
"Hey man, you'll never guess what theory y/n here has cooked up." Foggy says.
"Hey! Don't talk about me like I'm some tin foil hat looney alright." You point a finger at him.
"Even you admitted how absurd it sounded!" Foggy says.
"Sure but I provided ample evidence to support my claim it's not some baseless conclusion I'm jumping to!" You say.
"It's circumstantial at best." Foggy says.
"Well this isn't a court of law Nelson we're at Josie's and I don't have to be an expert witness to draw conclusions here I think I've more than proved my stance."
"Not beyond a shadow of a doubt!"
"Excuse me we aren't running a criminal trial there's no reason I should have to work to those standards I think- what's the other thing y'all use? A preponderance of the evidence, I think that's more than sufficient-"
"Is one of you going to tell me what this is about or are you going to keep throwing around legal jargon in a bar?" Matt cuts your arguing with Foggy short with a question while Karen gets up to grab him a seat at your table. "Honestly y/n you spend too much time with us, when did you pick up all those phrases anyway?" Matt muses.
"I dunno Foggy likes to throw them at me and I like to be able to fight back." You shrug.
"Y/n thinks Daredevil is blind." Karen tells Matt, returning to her own chair.
"You think Daredevil... like the vigilante is blind?" Matt chuckles.
"See what I mean?" Foggy gestures.
"I don't know that I'd go with totally blind but I think he's visually impaired at least." You nod.
"How do you figure that?" Matt asks.
"Something about his helmet." Foggy says.
"Well that one I can't verify but before he had the devil suit, when he was just the man in black he was basically fighting with a blindfold on. Why would someone with perfect vision handicap themselves that way? Especially taking on criminals severely outnumbered every time it doesn't make sense. Oh and he does this head twitch thing like he's seeing with his ears and not his eyes. Like an animal when locating a sound they turn their ears to it first. It's the perfect cover honestly." You shrug. "Kinda like that kid in Queens."
"What kid?" Foggy asks.
"Another masked hero type, red and blue suit, they call him Spiderman over there." You pull out your phone to find one of the several viral videos of Spiderman you've seen. "To clarify, I don't think he's also blind or anything like Daredevil but I'm pretty sure he's a teenager." You say once the video ends.
"You think that's a child?!" Foggy looks at you incredulously.
"I mean I've seen a few of these clips of him, and between his build and his voice, because he talks in some of these, and his movements- there's almost no way that's an adult, but he can stop a bus with his bare hands so no one is looking at him and assuming a high schooler is doing that. I just happen to know a little too much about anatomy and physiology and he looks like a teenager. Again, another perfect cover, the least likely person."
"So- you watched that guy, do that, and your first thought was 'he can't buy alcohol yet'. Seriously?" Foggy asks.
"Well no actually I didn't think much of it at first but after a few clips, I started to wonder. I mean it's just a guess since his suit covers him from head to toe but I'm pretty confident in it." You shrug.
"You're insane. For this and the Daredevil thing." Karen nods.
"Excuse me for daring to consider all options." You say dramatically and Matt chuckles beside you but doesn't offer much on the subject. From there your conversation pivots topics and you all spend another hour or two talking and drinking before eventually calling it a night and going your separate ways home.
~*~*~
"Y/n." The voice startles you as you walk into your apartment and you let out a scream, clutching your chest as you take in the intruder by your balcony.
"Okay. I know you're a vigilante so you work outside of the law kind of by default here but you better have a damn good reason for breaking into my apartment, as in someone better be on their way to kill me right now or I am going to be so pissed off." You say after a moment because why the hell is Daredevil standing in your apartment?!
"No one is coming to kill you." He shakes his head.
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" You cross your arms.
"I wanna know how you figured it out."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You figured out that I'm- I don't see when I fight. How did you know that?"
"Better question, how did you know that I knew that? Although, I didn't know for sure until you just said that, but how did you know I thought that?" You ask. Daredevil pulls off his helmet and you gasp. "Matt?"
"Don't act coy okay, we both know you knew it was me already." He rolls his eyes.
"No I didn't! If I knew it was you, or thought it was you, I would've said so the other night when we were talking about the whole thing. You know I've never been one to shy away from sharing what I'm thinking- oh my GOD you're daredevil!?" You shake your head as the information sinks in. You don't know which piece of this you're more interested in, the fact that you were right about Daredevil being blind or the fact that he's coincidentally also part of your friend group.
"Oh come on, you spent twenty minutes arguing that you think Daredevil is visually impaired are you telling me it didn't cross your mind for even a moment that it was me?"
"Okay first of all Matthew, you're not the only blind guy this side of the Hudson you know. Going from Daredevil may be visually impaired to Daredevil is the only blind man I know personally is quite a jump considering it was just a theory. Not to mention fair skinned man average height, average build, describes so many men in Hell's Kitchen not to mention the rest of New York. Hell, Tony Stark fits that description and if he wasn't already such an obnoxiously public superhero on the other side of the city I'd believe someone suspecting him of being Daredevil too."
"So you never once thought it was me?" Matt scoffs.
"I mean it crossed my mind once or twice but it's not like I could know for sure. That helmet covers like 80% of your face and you work almost exclusively at night it's not exactly cut and dry to ID you. I mean you've already had a copycat come around once." You explain.
"Why didn't you ask?"
"What?"
"At the bar, the other night, if you thought it was me why didn't you ask me?" He asks.
"Well if I asked and you told me the truth anyone at the bar could've heard and, I know Daredevil has quite a few enemies. If you lied to protect your identity because we were in public well, we both know I expect honesty from you so why risk that rift? And then of course there's the possibility that I was wrong in which case all of you would look at me like I'd grown three heads- not that the whole 'Daredevil is blind' theory didn't already have them looking at me funny but that's besides the point. There was no good outcome for me asking in public. Plus there wasn't even a reason for me to ask you really, I didn't know enough to say you, Matt, and any distinct similarities with you, Daredevil besides the way you react to sound." You shrug.
"What?"
"It was watching you- as Matthew- react to sound that made me piece together the Daredevil thing." You say.
"And you still didn't think it was me?"
"Again you aren't the only blind man around here, I figured reacting to sound that way was just a common trait for people who have to rely on senses other than sight."
"You got everything all figured out don't ya." He shakes his head.
"Well come on I am kind of known for it." You smile and Matt chuckles in spite of himself.
"You're taking this better than I expected. You're not mad."
"That you're a vigilante in your free time? Of course I'm not mad. I've always encouraged you and Foggy and Karen to have lives outside of your job and while your choice is a little... unorthodox, I think everyone should have a hobby. If this is yours I'm all for it. Although it does feel kind of work adjacent since you're like a lawyer but I'll let it go." You muse.
"Foggy and Karen had... very different reactions to the news."
"Wait- Karen and Foggy know?"
"Yeah- yeah they know. But, I had to tell them because of extenuating circumstances. You, you just guessed it."
"I mean technically it was more of an inference than a guess, plus I didn't even guess that it was you just that the red devil didn't need his eyes for a fight." You shrug. "I can't believe they knew and had me feeling crazy at the table." You chuckle.
"It wasn't their secret to tell. I had to be the one to let you know, they were just keeping their promises-"
"I know. I'm not even mad about it. It's just funny." You shrug.
"You are being very chill about all of this." Matt says.
"So are you like- not fully blind? Because I was operating with the idea that Daredevil didn't have 20/20 vision or anything but like I definitely wasn't thinking total blindness which- I thought you had. So is that not the case? Like are you not fully blind?"
"I am. Kind of. It's hard to explain." He grimaces.
"Well have a seat and we'll discuss i- actually, is your suit clean or did you just get done vigilanteing because I do not want blood or mud on my couch so you'll have to clean up, I can go find one of your accidentally left here hoodies if you need to change." You offer.
"Tonight's battles were pretty clean I think I'm good." He says with his hands up.
"To be on the safe side sit at one of the kitchen stools."
"Yes ma'am." He nods and walks over to a chair to have a seat.
"So- are you totally blind? Yes or no?"
"Technically yes."
"Technically?"
"The entire world looks like it's engulfed in flames. I can see silhouettes sometimes but they're are angry reds and oranges. They do not paint a picture at all really." He explains.
"Interesting." You hum.
"But, I've learned to see in other ways. Sound is a big one. I can even hear people's hearts beating."
"You can hear hearts beating?!" You blink at him.
"Yes." He nods once.
"Can you hear mine?!"
"Yes." Another nod.
"Woah. What do you use that skill for?"
"Number of enemies in a fight, counting the people in a room before I enter it, seeing if someone's lying to me." Matt lists off.
"Have you ever used it on me?"
"You don't lie to me." He shrugs.
"So that's a yes."
"It's a no. Not intentionally anyway. You've never given me a reason to even suspect you of lying." He says.
"So how else do you see?"
"Smell kind of, touch when I can. Sound is the main one though."
"You're like a bat." You giggle.
"Ha ha." His laugh is dripping with sarcasm that only makes you want to giggle more.
"Wait so- if you can do all this shit I take it you don't really need your cane then, do you?"
"Not- not really no."
"It's part of the cover then- isn't it?"
"Correct." He says.
"Hm, I assume this is also why you don't date, right?"
"Excuse me?"
"It's just that I imagine this Daredevil thing takes quite a bit of time, between that and the job that you never take a break from you basically have negative 2 hours of free time both of which you spend with either me or your coworkers. Plus I'm sure this would be one hell of a secret to try and keep from a significant other because it's not like you can tell them on the first date right? You never know who's working with your opps so you need to vet people so having to hide it until you know it's safe, which would probably totally suck." You rattle off your explanation.
"Okay first of all I date." He scoffs.
"You don't. You hook up with people sure but you do not date. I was honestly starting to think you were some level of aromantic and I guess you still could be and that's totally fine by the way but not having time because you're a part-time vigilante makes sense." You shrug.
"I'm not aromantic and me 'not dating' isn't because of the Daredevil thing."
"Of course it's not." You say.
"You're being sarcastic aren't you?"
"A little, but hey you don't have to explain your lack of romantic life to me. I was just being nosy."
"What about you? You don't date either." Matt crosses his arms.
"I do date actually and the reason you don't know that is because you never ask but if you don't wanna talk about your not dating that's fine." You say.
"I have my reasons."
"I'm sure you do Matty, you're entitled to them. No need to defend yourself to me."
"It's not related to being Daredevil." He says.
"Do you want to tell me about it or no? If so, great let's talk about it, if not I've had a long day and I'm a little tired babes. You can go back out the window I assume you came through or you can use the door-"
"You." He cuts off your last sentence with a single word.
"Excuse me?" You frown at him.
"You are the reason I don't date."
"What did I do?" You blink incredulously.
"Nothing. I have feelings for you so I don't date other people. I'm Daredevil so I don't tell you that I have feelings for you because it's dangerous, because it was a secret I couldn't tell you, because I don't get the girl."
"You don't get the girl? Do you think you're the antihero in a movie? It doesn't work that way Matt. If you liked me the proper course of action is to say something to me don't make it into some big dramatic story arc that's doomed from the start, everything with you is self sabotage mission. Do you really believe yourself that undeserving of good things, of things you want, of happiness?" This isn't the first time Matt has done something in direct conflict of his happiness so you're not surprised, but since the thing in question regards you, you can't help but feel exasperated.
"I-" Matt trails off with a frown that makes his entire face squeeze. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Why tell me this now? If you 'don't get the girl' if you can't have a relationship because it's 'too dangerous' or whatever silly reason you have for hiding it in the first place. Why are you telling me now?"
"You asked and I'm tired of hiding it I guess."
"Tired of hiding it. You didn't have to hide it."
"I didn't- do you honestly think that if I told you like six months ago, that I'm Daredevil and that Hell's Kitchen's notorious vigilante has feelings for you, do you think you would've reacted well?"
"I like to think I would, yes, but who cares that's not what happened. You told me tonight so, now what?"
"Now what?" He blinks at you.
"You're Daredevil and you have feelings for me so what happens now? Do we- continue as we've been? Do we see where this goes? What do you want now?"
"See where this goes? You'd want that? With me? To see where it goes?" He asks, he looks so lost that you can't help but sigh.
"Yes that's why I asked. Is it so unbelievable that I could also have feelings for you?" You ask softly.
"Well you didn't exactly say that-"
"I'm saying now. So- ask me on a date, or go home."
"Ask you on a date?"
"That's what I said Matthew. For a fancy defense attorney who graduated from Columbia Law, you are lost in an extremely too easy to follow conversation."
"None of this has been easy to follow okay? I never thought I'd get the chance to-" Matt trails off and shakes his head remembering your instructions. "Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"Yes I would. Eight o'clock. Don't be late." You say with a smile.
"Eight o'clock. I'll be here. See you tomorrow." Matt nods with an adorable grin on his face.
"Goodnight Matthew." You hum.
"Goodnight." He says putting his helmet back on and climbing out your window.
"He could've used the door." You mutter to yourself shaking your head. You still can't totally believe you were right about Daredevil being blind but more shocking is that it wasn't even the biggest reveal you got this evening. Life really does come at you fast.
***
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#daredevil fanfiction#daredevil#matt murdock x black!reader#matt murdock fluff#daredevil fluff
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staying in
Author’s Note: feeling cheesy and silly and lazy. ☺️😝🥱
staying in
Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader
Word Count: ~900
CW: mild sexual content
Song Inspo: Low Key by Russell Dickerson
~faqs~
An evening in consists of…
… almost getting scammed by an astrology website with Zenitsu, before finally agreeing that the free version is fine, and who believes in astrology anyway? Clearly, you’re made for each other (despite there being some ~areas of conflict between your charts).
… board games with Inosuke until one of you rage quits, and the other has to convince them to: stop sulking in the bathroom, and play again. Who rage quits usually depends on the game, and you’re much better at goading him into another round than he is at bribing you.
… a quiet stroll out with Gyomei, so not exactly staying in, but still more peaceful and mindful than going to a bar or attending an event. He compares your presence to the radiant fullness of the moon, and you tuck a fallen flower behind his ear. “How do you know what the moon feels like?” He doesn’t quite know how to explain gentle, mystical tug of moonrise, so he settles for, “I can feel you, and that is more than enough.”
… cleaning and redecorating Kaburamura’s cage with Obanai. It’s a little gross, and a lot of a fun. From teasing him for his obvious doting, “Does Kaburamura really need six donut cozies?” to being flat out rejected, “Sooo that’s a no to body painting? It’s safe for humans! How could it not be safe for snakes?” You end up falling asleep as he dutifully photographs Kaburamura curled up on your shoulder #guess I’ll finish cleaning by myself.
… doing Tanjirou’s make up, and him doing yours. If you don’t own any make up, then you go on a field trip (minimal budget). You randomly pick themes (old fashioned via “from a hat” or modern via “app for raffle draw”), set a time limit, and then send photos of your final looks to your Hashira + Kamaboko group chat to decide on a winner.
… making the most outlandish cocktails (or mocktails) you can think of with Mitsuri. They have to be intricate, original, AND taste delicious (~just okay suffices too), or you put on a pair of socks. By the end of the evening, you’re drunk (or sugar high) as heck, and have at least four pairs of socks on.
… a project with Shinobu. Whether that’s tackling a Lego set, making candles, or deep cleaning a specific room (likely the kitchen or bathroom), the laughter is ever constant, frustration to be expected, and resulting pride and excitement at the final product a worthy reward — not to mention the way she kisses you afterward! *happy sigh*
… cooking with Kyojuro #bet you didn’t see that coming #sarcasm intended teehee. Sometimes it’s complicated, hours long endeavors; other times it’s spaghetti; and there’s always take out if your fancy Huntsman pie doesn’t go to plan. He’s almost unbearably efficient when it comes to cooking tidily, and chops vegetables so quickly that you just marvel at how his fingers are intact.
… watching a movie with Sanemi. This includes: ~arguing over which movie to watch for a solid hour (give or take), another twenty minutes for snack prep, and another half an hour to spontaneously design and build a pillow fort (for the optimal movie watching experience, of course). Even when it’s a movie he swears he despises, he’ll still stay awake through the whole damn thing because it matters to you, and you matter to him.
… creating scavenger hunts for each other with Muichiro. You roll dice to determine who gets to claim which room(s) and in what order, set up your hunts, and then hunt (duh)! Winner gets to choose dinner (or dessert if you already ate dinner), and loser gets to cook aforementioned dinner (or dessert). You usually win, but he notices when you begin making his clues easier, and promptly informs you that he’d rather lose honestly than win on Easy Mode. “Your happy noises whenever I feed you are prize enough for me.”
… planning your future with Giyuu. It’s easy to get caught up in the mayhem of Life™, so evenings in are a grounding, intimate opportunity to reconnect and recenter with him. From cuddling on the couch to dancing in the kitchen to watching the moon’s traverse through your favorite window, you discuss current stressors, recent successes, and your gratitude for each other. It may seem simple, but it’s the little things that fit most snugly in your hearts. “Where do you see us in a year? Five years? A decade?” you ask. His answer remains constant: “Together.”
… reading with Tengen. He’ll read to you, or you to him; you’ll share a book, or the couch, or the bed; and you alternate who gets up to brew more tea. If you prefer audio books, then he’ll occasionally eavesdrop, and when it’s your turn to be on tea duty, you more often than not return to a cute sticky note (with dramatic commentary regarding the chapter you’re on) bookmarking your page.
#hashira x reader#kamaboko#preferences#modern au#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#zenitsu x reader#inosuke x reader#gyomei x reader#obanai x reader#tanjiro x reader#mitsuri x reader#shinobu x reader#kyojuro x reader#sanemi x reader#muichiro x reader#giyuu x reader#tengen x reader
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The Cafe' Prince & The Killer Cook Pt. 1:
Chapter One - "Egg on your Face" Mega-Omelet
ME: Blitzø, having suffered a the worst day of his life, finds an unexpected silver lining when he awakens inside some random cafe hosted by a sweet (if oddly articulate) little girl, Via and her chef daddy, Stolas (Who looks like Hell on Wheels and cooks just as good, but who gave a shit.)
Later on after this chance encounter, a completely unanticipated offer might just be what Blitzø needs to turn his trashfire of an existence into a lifetime of amazing food, exciting moments and maybe even . . . Love?
Stolitz fluff, food chain puns, good food and healthy doses of angst await you at the Stars & Stir-Ups Cafe’!!! (Yet to be named)
Inspired by Pink Lomito’s ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE Stolitz Cafe’ AU fanart and written with their blessing, so I can only hope this will live up to the hype! (Displayed Below)
Full disclosure, I DO bake as a hobby, but I am NOT a career baker so most of descriptions of any foods mentioned, cooking and otherwise, will totally be written by an author completely in the dark, so please be gentle with any criticisms regarding any of the cooking displayed here. (Also see the end of the chapters for the recipes used, or at least the closest comparisions.)
Get Your knives and forks ready, you sinners & saints, and please enjoy!! I owe nothing!!!
Normal P.O.V.
When Blitzø woke up, he was automatically confused.
He had expected to be face flat, ass up on the shitty, grime covered flour of the bar he had trudged into last night like he had only hours to live. It had been a record-breaking shitty-ass day for him and he decided, like the many, many bitchy broke losers out there who had had their dreams squashed and trampled on like gnats in Hell, to drown his sorrows. Burning $ouls like tissue paper, he had began going for broke, mooching off other patrons and drunkards, earning petty shots in impromptu contests and maybe even performed a small strip tease for a gaggle of succubi and incubi.
He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how it ended, although he did have a vague recollection of plowing his dick into one of the incubi in one of the nasty as fuck bathroom stalls and wondering if the greasy pump soap could be used as lube before fading to black.
Christ on a Pogo stick he had REALLY gotten fucked up, didn’t he?
That said, he wouldn’t have been shocked in the slightest if he had found himself upside down, half- naked and definitely robbed of his wallet and phone in some shady alley at the crack of dawn. Yeah, that would have been normal for him.
Waking up in a plush, fancy-pants booth with a soft, comfortable quilt thrown on top of him was not.
He began leaning up to try and get some sense of where the fuck he was, but everything between his ears immediately started to bitch at him with an acute, relentless thrum that felt even worse than the headaches Moxxie gave him while bitching at him. On a good day.
He gave a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in a sorry attempt to dull the throb. He swore everything was hurting, his horns were hurting, his scars were hurting, fuck, even his brand was hurting -
“Fudge.”
That innocent correction almost made him tumble out of the booth. He barely smacked his palms against the floor to keep him from actually falling face flat on its surface. Points for highly trained trapeze instincts. Centering himself, he found a pair of big, bright pink, and admittingly cute eyes of a little owl demon looking right at his.
Even with him being upside-down, he could tell they were a girl; maybe four or six, with a messy nest of long dark hair let loose save a small ponytail tied up on the side of her head with a scrunchie covered with moons and stars and a simple pink jumper with white stars of various sizes printed all over it.
It had taken a second for his hungover brain to figure out she was an owl, the white heart-shaped frame of her face like that of an owl’s a dead giveaway. The way she blinked at him only cemented that conclusion. She blinked calmly at him, despite how fucking weird he was sure he must’ve looked as a middle-aged, hungover, hot mess sleeping in what he just know fully realized was a restaurant booth.
Feeling caught off guard for a number of reasons, he could only respond with, “Sorry?”
The Little owl gave him a reproaching look, or at least as close to one as a toddler could manage. “‘Fudge’. You said it wrong.” She stated in all seriousness. “You’re supposed to say ‘fudge’ when you say the ‘F’ Word. Otherwise, it’s not polite.”
“Says who?” He asked.
“Says my daddy.” She said proudly as if she was referring to Lucifer himself. “He says ‘Politeness is the-” She paused, her face scrunching up in concentration, “- ‘Per-Ah-Get-Ive’ of sensible young demons’.”
He gave her a small smirk. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”
“What’s what?”
“Whatcha just said – Know what it means?”
He had expected her to respond with a "yes" as all little hellspawn do to prove they were just as smart as their parents who most of the time are dumber than the garbage man, and of course be all snooty and snobby about it too.
But, amazingly, she shook her head so much her hair flew in both directions. "Nope! But my daddy taught me that word. Which means it must be a smart grown-up thing to say. My daddy's all grown up and smart so it makes sense to try and apply it to my everyday 'Wing-guess-tics'."
"Uh, 'wing-guess-tics'?" He repeated with a smile.
The little owl nodded. "You know, the way you talk and how you sound to other people. Don't you ever take pride in how you sound towards others less proud of themselves?"
Blitzø sure as hell didn't. In fact, good mood or bad, he couldn't give two shits in a Gluttony Ring brand crapper what every other piece of shit thought about him or the way he talked. Which is exactly what he should tell to this innocent, sassy, too precious for words little oh satan's taint, he was too hungover for this.
Getting up at an old man's pace, he grunted, "I don't really have an answer to that, ow."
Okay, sitting up straight didn't quite stop the ache, but it wasn't harping so badly now.
The little owl made a sad sound. "That's too bad. Everything needs an answer."
"Does it?" He asked while once again pressing into his eyes to try and settle his headache. She gave an affirmative hum.
"They do. Sometimes."
Blitzø gave up trying to squeeze his eyeballs back into his brains and gave a slow roll of his neck, breathing with the small audible stream of cracks that followed. "Yeah, well, sometimes is better than no times I guess." Once his neck didn't feel so stiff, he looked down at the little owl who still was blinking up at him. "Hey kiddo?"
"Yes?"
"Can you, uh . . . Can you tell me where we are right now?" Geez, Blitzø, you need a little kid to tell your dumb, hungover ass where you crashed? Talk about hitting rock bottom.
She giggled like he had just told a funny joke. He admitted, even with a headache, the sound was nice to hear. "You're in our cafe, sir. Mine and Daddy's cafe. You've been here ever since last night."
He felt embarrassment collide with exasperation in a wave that only incensed the pounding in his skull. Grreeeaaat. Now he had to deal with a bitchy dad that could probably make a Karen more bearable. And considering his crappy luck, he could probably give Moxxie a run for his money when it came to whining and botching. Like he didn't have enough of a migraine already.
To distract himself from the imminent ass-chewing, Blitzø decided it was a good time as any to take a quick peek around. In case, things went tits up, he should know how much he could tag with horses and dongs later.
Look all over, he had to admit . . . He was pleasantly surprised.
The cafe was definitely a little ritzier than almost every other diner or bistro in Pride, at least the ones run by imps or sinners. It wasn't an 'in-your-face-so-suck-it-bitches' bourgeois nightmare that you found on the cover of rich people magazines, but it was still easy to smell the $oils that had been burned to buy the number of furniture and appliances that filled it. Pristine designer steel tables, floors tiles so clean you could eat off of them, cushy warm booths like the one he was sitting in that felt comfy enough to be small bed; yeah, this place made the local Hellbucks look like a gas station men's room (Which was also, coincidentally, one of the many places he would periodically wind up in after a bender).
He could probably make off with one of the tablecloths - Made with actual fucking linen, not rag or crappy burlap - And the money he would get for it would easily pay off his non-existent mortgage.
The walls, covered in perfectly intact, shiny wallpaper that was neither covered in mildew nor aged and peeling, colored the interior with a tasteful cream and vanilla striped pattern. Each dark strip of cream had subtle motifs of shooting stars, little crescent moons and cheery spiraling suns. The cushions seated on each chair and the fabrics of the booths were royal blue and spotted with muted violet stars, all differing sizes, each cleaner than the back seat of an Imp City taxi cab. Plus, no springs popping up to try and fuck him in his little red hole.
He then noticed the bar. A quaint but spacious counter as long as Blitzø's body and tail combined, a simple but pricey cash register at one end, with matching leather stools lined up perfectly beneath it. A large glass case half the size of his van sat at the other end, the inside holding shelves of numerous plates of decadent-looking desserts and pastries that drew an expectant grumble from his stomach.
It wasn't his fault, the last thing Blitzø remembered having that was even close to food was some outdated peanuts and the olives he wiped from some douche who had ordered nothing but martinis that were drier than Wraith in a heatwave.
And he normally hated olives, Christ, he must've been fucked up to devour those things, pit and all. Fuck, did I bang the guy who ordered then too?
Okay, not the priority right now, Blitzø. Especially with the cute little kid in front of you whose dad is definitely gonna throw you out on your ass the minute he sees you -
"Oh! Daddy's awake! Good morning, daddy!"
Fuck.
Blitzø jerked his head up at her cheerful greeting, opening his mouth if only to curse at how his head throbbed in response -
— Only for it to immediately die when he caught sight of "Daddy" coming into the cafe'.
Fuck him twice.
The demon that had stepped into his view was, hands down and pants down if his belt was loosened, one of the most gorgeous demons he had seen.
And the tallest, Jesus Christ.
The owl demon was as tall as a tree, with legs for days ending in jet black talons that clicked delicately against the immaculately clean tiles as he strode over. His body was much, much thinner than Blitzø had expected, delicate and lithe with sinfully svelte curves around his well-rounded hips that he felt an instant, barely concealed urge to wrap his legs around and squeeze. His upper body was just as long, lengthy frail arms that grew like willow branches from his shoulders with dainty but large hands and fingers that reminded him of spider legs as they moved and were just as dark as his feet. They were probably as soft as that little fluff of feathers that peeked out on his chest.
Looking at his face, he was slightly taken aback at the sight of not one but two pairs of eyes peering back, although the second pair were smaller and placed higher on his forehead, just as wide and bright as Via's, but instead of pink they shone with crimson and were as opaque as a ruby. It was obvious who this little girl got her looks from the most; the same dark spot at the tip of his beak, and the same shade of grey blue feathers, only his grew darker in hue as they climbed up his very lean throat, combed into a neat and very trim style that clearly was given a lot of attention. The only blemish to it would be the bold streak of grey that cut through the feathers which easily gave away his age, but somehow that had actually improved his looks as it contrasted the young (and pretty) features of his face.
His outfit wasn’t too extraordinary but still, Blitzø felt himself growing warm at the sight of the white button up dress shirt and the open cranberry pink waistcoat the owl was currently snapping shut dexterously and simple dark slacks that hugged his legs perfectly.
Fuck. I was once woken up with V wearing lingerie that was made pretty much just string but this guy is dressed like a fucking waiter and I wanna lay him flat on the counter.
Blitzø was suddenly that much more thankful for the blanket covering his lap, because he was sure feeling the telltale signs of a growing boner.
Oh well, he was sure it would go away once this guy started to whine about having to deal with a drunken piece of shit first thing in the morning -
The tall owl, even with the slightest of sleep still clinging to it, smiled warmly and brightly at his daughter. “Good morning, my Owlette.” Blitzø felt himself once again be knocked off guard by his chocolaty, silky tenor voice, the sound of it sending pleasant shivers down his spine.
Fuckhim three times, he sounded hot too. Satan, this sucked.
The owl’s pleasant chuckle only added to Blitzø;s horny chagrin. “I see you beat me down to the cafe’ today. I hope you slept well, my Starfire.”
The little “Starfire” nodded happily. “I slept good, Daddy! And so did our guest!” She gestured innocently at the imp, who then tensed at being put on the spot by a kid. “When I came down to check on him, he was snoozing like a kitten!”
Blitzø, of course, made a face. A kitten?
It went unnoticed by the little owl, but not by her father who gave her a stern, but still soft look. “Via,” He started. “You didn’t disturb our guest while he was sleeping, did you?”
“Via” quickly shook her head, he feathers swinging side to side in a flurry. “Mh-mm! No, Daddy, I promise I didn’t! I was real quiet until he woke up and said the bad thing wrong.”
He blinked at her. “The ‘bad’ word?”
“One of the words that Mummy used to -” He explanation was abruptly cut off by her father’s wincing and his hands waving the universal sign for stop. “O-oh, alright, alright, sweetie, I understand, no need to go further!”
Blitzø watched them quietly.
Huh. So pretty boy had post-marital troubles with the little former wifey, huh?
Yeah, that made sense. Aside from his friend’s, Blitzø had yet to see any marriage that wasn’t one step away to instating the “death do us part” vow.
This guy must have gotten out while the getting was still good. But not without a few licks dealt, judging by the signs of wariness on his face.
He mentally sighed. Alright the hottie daddy knows you’re here and first impression has clearly gone to shit so, get ready for take two, dumbass.
Blitzø, deciding that jokes was the way to go in a pinch, then said casually. “I guess ‘Mummy’ wasn’t a ‘fudge’ kinda girl.” He then put on his best smile as he looked straight on at the pretty owl. “Me, personally, always liked the mine with plenty of nuts.”
As smooth as it sounded, he still cringed on the inside. Oof, Blitzø, how lame do you sound right now?
However, to Blitzø’s surprise and relief, the innuendo did not go unnoticed by the only other adult in the cafe’. Both sets of eyes went wide and the haggardness on his face was instantly washed away with a swift, prominent pink flush that Blitzø definitely liked seeing. Next to Via, it was probably the cutest thing he saw this morning. It certainly took the edge off the ass-chewing he was sure to get.
Usually, anytime he cracked any sex jokes around others, he was almost immediately told off by whatever prude or asshole or Karen was in the vicinity (i.e. Moxxie) and who clearly had no sense of good humor. (Like they didn’t start humping on each other’s earlobes the second every one’s back was turned like the hypocrites they were.)
Anybody else who didn’t was either not giving two shits or just as eager to talk dirty after a line up of shots.
But this bird seem reasonably sober. But then again, judging by his frame, he was probably the type of demon to go for light drinks like martinis or cocktails rather than tequila or beezlejuice. Considering the little girl now running up to him and hugging his shins, it was more than likely. He had the bitter experience of always dealing with a parent more often found nursing a hangover rather than an infant and it was an all around shitty experience he had no wish to repeat.
However, right now, he wouldn’t mind getting another peek of that cute ass blush as the bird briefly ducked down to scoop up into his arms. “W-well,” He started, “It’s certainly good to see you awake, Mister . . . ?”
“Name’s Blitzø. The “O” is silent.” Blitzø stated without missing a beat.
The owl blinked. “What ‘o’?”
“Exactly.” Blitzø nodded without thinking and once again, groaned in pain as everything from the neck up throbbed.
“Oh dear, hangover not quite remedied yet?”
Blitzø hissed out a breath. “Yeah, that’s a big fat fff-fudgin’ no.” He smirked weakly at Via’s approving nod. “I feel like I decided to go dumpster-diving outside the nearest Sinnabon’s for a midnight snack-run.” His empty stomach than made itself known by giving an impatient grumble. “And it looks like I’m up for round two so I think it’s about time I get outta here.”
The owl blinked again. “I’m sorry?”
Blitzø carefully climbed out of his improvised bed and unsure of what to do, opted to take apart the bedding and fold it as neatly as he could. “Yeah, I know, I know, I should’ve been out of here hours ago, I get it. Satan knows no-one wants to deal with a hungover dumb-a first thing in the morning. I know I wouldn’t, plus you gotta kid here and I can’t imagine you want some strange weirdo around your baby-girl so I better clear out before -”
The quilt literally rising out of his hands cut him off like a record scratch. The fuck-?
He watched cow-eyed as some kind of blue sparkly whatsit energy surrounded the quilt and untangled the lump he had been making a mess out of. It than began folding itself in a much more professional fashion than his was and as soon as it finished, it levitated right over his head and towards the guys who, judging by the ethereal sheen wrapped around his talons, was making it.
“Mr. Blitzø,” He started calmly. “As the owner of a cafe’, I have often had ‘strange weirdos’ coming in and going out from here every day. Thankfully, most of them are courteous enough to show up around working hours, but I am no stranger to any who who wander in from the late-night crowd, which I’m assuming is where you come from.” His tone wasn’t accusing but Blitzø still frowned at the teasing lilt he definitely heard.
“As for my little Starfire,” The bird continued, nuzzling his daughter on the cheek which earned a giggle. “Via, I like to think at least, is an excellent judge of character, especially more so with strangers. So, if she thinks that you’re trustworthy then that’s more than enough reason to let you stay.” With a twirl of his talon, he sent the quilt through the door leading upstairs to, whatever the fuck it led to as he set Via down on one of the stools after a quick, dramatic spin that earned him another giggle. “At least, long enough for us to feed you a decent breakfast.”
That last bit was definitely NOT what Blitzø thought he’d hear. “Uh, excuse me?”
“Oh certainly, after you’ve been given food of actual substance to eat instead of the leftover, surely bacteria-ridden remains scrounged from a random dumpster.” The big bastard responded blithely as he made his way around the counter, to where Blitzø finally noticed the fancy-looking coffeemaker that made him feel more broke-ass than he already was. “But first, I believe refreshments are in order. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”
The asshole part of him wanted to deliver a pissy comeback at the offer. He was a grown-ass man, more than capable of getting his own food, fuck you very much and no trust-fund, (sexy) long-legged prick had the right to tell him what was okay for him to eat or not – Moxxie already got his ass enough about that, he didn’t need anyone else doing that shit.
Big bitch was probably trying to keep him here long enough to call the cops on him the minute his back was turned so he could stick him with some BS robbery charges just for shits and giggles. Which had happened to him before due to more than one nut-job Karen and/or Kevin.
And of course, since it was fucking Hell, there was only a certain amount of times that you could get arrested and get bailed out before the taxpayers think to simply say “Fuck it” and just take your money and never bother to find your cell keys.
That in mind, he was so not in the mood to bust out of prison again, that one stint in Greed was enough for the next five years.
Well, fuck this bird. The front door was right there and he was not gonna have to put up with whatever bullshit this guy was -
His stomach halted his would-be flipping-the-bird-at-the-bird-on-the-way-out escape with a rumble even louder and more impatient than before. The tell-tale smell of brewing coffee didn’t do anything to help quell it. And damn, did it smell good . . .
. . . . . . Oh, forget it, they dump that dumpster every other day and he was too hungover to spare the effort to drive. Or Look for his van. Or try to remember the name of the club he was at.
“. . . I usually have iced coffee. But right now, I’ll take a regular coffee, as black as blood.”
That request was responded to with a humored smile. “I myself usually take it black as sin, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Turning to the way too complicated than should be normal looking, coffee-making monstrosity, he also added, “Also, forgive me.”
“For what?” Blitzø asked as he came closer to the bar. This close, he could now spot a simplistic yet obviously custom-designed hotplate big enough to fit enough food for five people, flat black surface on one side and a classic stove-top on the other.
“For not introducing myself properly earlier.” A clean, see-through glass coffee pot that Blitzø didn’t even see him pull out appeared in his hand as he whipped out a coffee filter so finely made it looked more like a hankie, bypassing the coffee maker completely. “I’m Stolas, owner of this cafe’ as well as Chef and Barista. You’ve already had the pleasure of meeting my daughter, Octavia, my darling little helper.”
“Daddy says I’m his ‘Suzy Chef’!” Via, also now known as “Octavia”, chirped proudly. Before Blitzø took a seat on one of the stools, he moved as to help her up but she shook her head. Gripping the crank under the seat, she pulled it up and down like a desk chair’s until the seat was low enough for her to climb up. He watched in bemusement as she then adjusted the seat back up. Clearly, they were built with the varying heights of Hell’s diverse demographic in mind.
Not bad thinking, Blitzø had to admit.
“Indeed you are, my Owlette.” Stolas chuckled. Having placed the filter inside a clenex wrapped around a chic-looking coffee pot, he placed a silver carafe onto the stove-top side of the hotplate and flipping the switch. Taking out a bag of coffee grounds that smelled fucking fantastic. “She and I have been running this little cafe’ for about four months now. And if I may so, we’re doing rather well. Granted, we’re not millionaires but I’m certainly not complaining.”
In almost no time at all, the carafe’ started whistling sharply. Stolas took it off and replaced it with a small skillet that Blitzø didn’t see being pulled out either, only to stare unabashedly at the medley of cheeses, meats, veggies and eggs that literally flew in from the entry to what he guessed was the kitchen like it was something of out of a kid’s movie. He knew Via giggling at his face but he forgoed responding to that, as while Stolas attended to the coffee pot, a bottle of oil floated over to the skillet and poured a delicate amount inside with two slices of butter following suite. “. . . Uh, yeah, if you’re good at something, you should capitalize.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not really so much about the money as it is the business of cooking itself.” Stolas said earnestly as he dumped the grounds into the filter and sweeped up the carafe to pour in the hot water in one fluid motion. “I find that this line of work gives me much more gratification than that of my previous occupation.”
“Oh, what was that? Real estate spokesman? Attorney? Phone seee-” Blitzø was instantly reminded of Via’s presence as the little girl hummed happily while folding and unfolding a napkin she plucked from the napkin holder closest to them. “-eeecrecy operator?”
If Stolas noticed the near slip-up, he didn’t comment on it. “No, I’m afraid. Simply one of the cogs of the crumbling, over-heated machine that is known as Hell’s government.” While the skillet started to pop and sizzle, the owl than summoned a sizable knife to finely chop one onion to join the oil and butter. As the coffee grounds were left to bloom, Stolas made quite a show of crumbling up a thick sausage into bits with one hand while simultaneously conjuring an actual clutch of flames in the other hand, selecting a few strips of bacon to cook and crisp in a matter of seconds. Most likely to show off for Blitzø and his daughter who “oohed” at the sight.
Admittedly, Blitzø was a little impressed too, but he’d be fucked by a mime before he ever let on. “Geez, playin’ it up a bit, don’t ya think?”
“Perhaps a bit.” Stolas admitted, not so sorry in the slightest. “But compared to how stoic and quiet I had used to be, I relish any chance to ‘play it up’.” Having deemed the bacon thoroughly cooked, which it definitely was going by the smell, he extinguished the flames and set the crispy strips onto a cutting board for a magicked knife to chop up. Washing his hands in a small sink set by the hotplate, he gestured towards the enchanted parade of flying ingredients, allowing three eggs to gently land on the counter.
Blitzø, at this point, had taken his eyes away from the free magic show in front of him, cool as it was, to quietly observe Stolas’s shapely ass as he bent over to retrieve something from one of the lower cabinet.
Hmm. He could feel the tip of his tail flicking in appreciation. Guess the cake wasn’t only in good in the cases.
He tried to keep ogling as unnoticeable as possible as he asked. “Old job sucked that bad, huh?”
“Oh, abominably so.” Stolas groaned as he fished around in the cabinet obliviously. Eventually, he made a small sound of triumph as he located his prize; a small mixing bowl which he then set on the counter next to the eggs. A crooked finger brought a whisk right into his hand just as all three eggs were lifted and cracked into the bowl and the shells were tossed away. “And all I can say is that I’m bloody well glad that it’s behind me.”
“And now Daddy gets to be the bestest chef in all of Hell!” Via proclaimed, which was rewarded with a loving smile.
“Well, I certainly try my best.” He said cheerfully. He made sure to keep close attention to the carafe’ as it poured more water into the now ready coffee grounds as he beat the eggs thoroughly. As dark, fresh coffee began to drip into the pot, he set the bowl aside to neatly dish the sausage and bacon into the skillet. “I don’t know if anything I make will win any awards, but I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t. As long as I have my Via and this cafe’, I’ll be happy.”
Those words, despite himself, left a deep pit in Blitzø’s stomach.
He was all too familiar with the feeling to know that it wasn’t hunger.
And the cause of it was the warm translucent air wafting around in the little cafe’ that was more potent than the coffee.
And more pointedly, how out of place he felt to even be watching it.
He felt his claws clench the leather of his seat, the fabric creaking softly in response to his tightening grip. The pit felt like it was growing larger, making his shoulders tense. He found himself staring full-on at the clean surface of the bartop and tried to ignore the itch of his spines going erect. For the next few minutes, all that was heard was the sizzling and firecracker-like popping of the skillet as the eggs were poured in, the repetitive sound of coffee dripping and Via humming as she tried to fold her napkin into something other than a lopsided square.
Blitzø took a deep breath through his nose, his lips sputtering a bit like a horse’s (Didn’t he wish) as he exhaled.
“. . . Look, I’m . . . ” He paused a moment to think his words over carefully. The last thing he felt like doing right now was to sound an utter dickhead to the guy who was making him a hot meal for a total stranger.
No telling if he was the type to spit in on the plates of assholes who deserved it.
“. . . I’m sorry for, uhm, for having you make deal with me first thing in the morning.” He managed to get out rather lamely.
He wasn’t sure if the bird heard him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I . . . I had a really, really real sh- crappy day yesterday, and – And I just needed to blow off a little steam.”
Images started to flash unbidden in his head. Of zeroes, of bottles, of bitter looks and smashed frames only made everything in Blitzø had been able to blissfully ignore up until that moment, then chose to rear its ugly head making him let out a barely concealed grunt. “. . . Point is, I-I’m sorry for screwing up your day and -”
He was interrupted by a good-sized mug being set calmly before him. He started as the smell of the dark roast curling in soft puffs and into his nostrils, the scent heavenly and already mending the throb of his head – only to be taken aback at the feel of a large, plush-soft hand petting the space between his horns in a comforting rub.
It took every single inch of Blitzø not to either smack the hand away or bite it off on sheer impulse.
He looked up and instead of what he thought for damn sure was going to be a patronizing sneer, – Because how else would any prick look after patting an imp’s head like a puppy’s? - Stolas’s face was as soft and reassuring as the smile on his beak.
A smile filled with nothing but understanding and warmth.
Sweet Lucifer, when was the last tim anyone had smiled at him like that?
“No apologies are need here, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas said simply. No hint of bullshit. ��Nothing’s been broken, nothing’s been ruined. So please, don’t worry. I’m not a demon so easily rattled. Especially by lovely surprises such as yourself.”
. . . . Blitzø blamed the warmth he felt tingling on his cheeks on the steam coming from the mug.
Stolas didn’t comment on it, but he was sure that he heard some not very subtle amusement in his voice as he turned back to his cooking. “Would you like for me to add some peppers to dish? They were freshly picked this morning and I’m sure that they’ll taste wonderfully with the eggs.”
“UH-” Blitzø grabbed the mug and pretended to study it to keep himself from doing anything else dumb. “Y-yeah, sure, whatever, go nuts. I’m good with whatever.”
“Marvelous! I’ll add some as soon as the eggs have cooked for a bit.” Stolas said cheerfully. Blitzø muttered a “yeah, whatever” to his back as the owl reached from some green and red peppers big enough for Via to hold in both of her hands. He then made a small hoot that Blitzø, even with how off-kilter he felt at the moment, found cute. “Oh, and let me know how the coffee is, please. I’m trying a new blend I finally managed to put together a few days ago and I’d love to hear your opinion.”
Blitzø blinked at that. “Wha-? You mean this isn’t instant?”
Stolas shook his head. “Oh no. I try my best to use fresh items whenever I cook. Not that I have anything against instant or frozen food, but, as a chef, I find it almost like cheating if I’m not as authentic for my customers. The last thing I want is to have our cafe’ be mistaken for another Twink Trip or Hexxan.”
Blitzø would have taken a shot at that remark. Namely how if you loaded up gas station coffee with a fuckton of sugar, cream, and booze, it didn’t matter about the quality ‘cause who would give that much of a damn about dirty bean water -
That is, had he not taken a sip out of his mug.
It took a moment of peering down at his “coffee” to think up a much more direct response. “. . . . This is the best damn cup of coffee I ever had.”
“Thank you!” Stolas accepted the compliment cheerily. I admit it took much longer to properly cultivate and grow the beans for it than I had originally anticipated. I mean, I already knew the process was intricate but it’s a whole other experience when you actually attempt it yourself.” Stolas gave a weak chuckle as he prodded at the eggs simmering in the skillet. “I’ve lost count of the amount of times I almost blew up my grinder or ruined my insides.”
Blitzø, taking a much larger sip of his coffee hummed appreciatively. “Yeah, bad coffee can f- trip you up.” He knew that to be true. He once had to get his stomach pumped from drinking brew made by some dumbshit in his RV. That experience wasn’t really as painful as the telling-off Moxxie gave him afterwards. Little bitch always had act like he was right.
He took another big gulp. “You did good, though. Five stars.”
It wasn’t blind praise. Blitzø never bullshitted how he felt about what he drank and ate, (Much to Moxxie’s, Fizz’s, his Sunday Barista or, really, anyone’s annoyance) and the coffee was no exception; heavy and crisp with a balanced pairing of earthy and floral notes, the acidity like berries that left plenty of room for flavor instead of just tang. And the aftertaste didn’t linger like secondhand smoke, it left gradually with a mellow sheen that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Even though he was more an iced coffee guy, this was a kind of coffee Blitzø could see himself drinking again. When he wasn’t hungover, that is.
“Well, I’m thrilled to hear that, Mister Blitzø. Thank you.” Stolas responded gratefully.
By now, he had placed a lid over the eggs to let them simmer which allowed him to focus on chopping up the peppers. The imp assumed that had all he had been cutting up before Stolas turned to delicately slide a plate baring an apple that had been sliced in a way that the core stood erect as a tower with the slices spread open like a flower bloom. Before he can ask how the hell he did that so fast, Via chirped happily before plucking one slice and biting into it with a thank you.
Blitzø found her delight over the piece of fruit adorable, which the baby owl took as an invitation to pluck another slice and offer it to him with a smile. Satan, could this kid get any cuter?
He took the offered slice with a cheeky grin. Only to quickly toss it in the air and catch it with his tongue like an iguana’s, adding a “Bleh!” just for laughs, for which he earned a round of giggles from Via. He had almost missed by being blindsided by the cinnamon and spice flavor that had been baked into it. It had to have been made that very morning if the warmth and freshness of the slice was anything to go by, allowing the fruit to melt orgasmically well into his taste-buds. Wow.
He and Via had had unanimously agreed to split the apple between them, with no objections from Stolas as he busied himself with divvying up the vegetables and summoning other ingredients from the kitchen to prepare accordingly. Via filled up most of the time with chattering on innocently about little things, how funny her dream was last night, how home-school was “five times better than private school as there were less big dummy poop-heads” - Blitzø almost choked on a slice while Stolas lightly admonished her about “language” - And how her daddy once made her the bestest cake ever in the in the whole wide world for her fifth birthday. Blitzø, for as sweet as he found her daughterly praise, had to swallow the gag when she started going on about the “tasty” mouse chunks Stolas had added.
Bird or no, eating mice for Blitzø was a flat out no.
A sudden, horrifying though than popped into his head. Was Stolas going to add mice to his food?
Like mouse sausage? Mice bacon? Rat peppers? Was that a thing?! Or was he just pulling a Moxxie and asking dumbass question?
. . . Probably just being a Moxxie.
His internal debate was cut short by something else being set before him. A damn good-looking something.
An omelet the size of Blitzø’s fist lay before him, hot and steaming and straight from the hot plate. Yellow as can be with spots of golden brown, there were no signs of tears of breakage, with a perfect fluffy layer peeking from the folds stuffed with meat, veggies and oozing cheeses. The artsy fucker had even gone the extra mile and draped the top of it with a thin sheet of mozzarella, some garnish and a couple slices of baby tomatoes. Talk about extra.
“There you are, this morning’s special - ‘Egg On Your Face’ Mega-Omelet, with all the fixings and extra cheese for those unwelcome aches and pains. If I’ve done my job right, it should fix you right up.”
“Like magic!” Via dded with a bright smile. Both men chuckled at her.
“Like magic, huh?” Blitzø smirked. Well, I’ll just have to see about that.
Sure, the eggs may have looked good, but Blitzø had learned all too well that food looking good and tasting good were two totally different things.
What looked like a pile of slop to the naked eye could taste just as good as a five morning star meal served Beelzebub herself. The same thing applied to a plate of fancy finger foods that cost the same as a house mortgage but tasted like cardboard in the end. And Blitzø certainly had more than enough exposure to lousy food like that, thank you and fuck you very much, with no wish to repeat it.
Which he hoped he wouldn’t with this monster-omelet before him.
Deciding not to put it off any longer, he picked up his fork and dug the prongs into the soft-cooked eggs, scooping up a decent-sized bite with plenty of pepper, meat and cheese. After a moment’s consideration, he also speared one of the baby tomato slices. He gave the loaded fork a few blows to cool it, because there was no way he was going to down a maybe-shitty breakfast with a burnt tongue.
He stuck the fork in his mouth -
And his mind was BLOWN.
If there was such a thing as a bit of paradise, than these eggs were the mother fucking proof in the pudding. Or omelet, in this case.
The eggs were cooked to perfection; nice and fluffy to where they melt on in his mouth like luscious chocolate from Lust’s first class bakeries. And the flavor was like a parade in his mouth, from the salty onions, the crisp tomato and the sweet peppers, the numerous flavors sucker-punched his sense of taste without overwhelming the presence of the eggs. The meat inside was spectacular too, the bacon was at the optimum point between chewy and crispy, and the sausage was deliciously flavorful and greasy. His kind of meat, with the right amount of salt and black pepper.
He could barely hold down the pleasurable moan, but did nothing to stop all the muscles in his body from going lax.
Man, fuck trying to go to heaven, the key to fucking Eden’s Gate was right in his head hole.
A bemused coo. “So I take it you like it?”
Blitzø taste-jizzed mind abruptly snapped back into focus. Stolas’s beak was curled into a big, smug-ass grin that made his own fault in to a frown. The owl simply looked at him expectant. Dammit, if the kid weren’t here, he would have gladly told the bird exactly where to shove that grin.
Instead, he gave a disgruntled growl. “Yea, it’s . . . okay.”
Most chefs would have promptly gotten offended by such a dry appraisal of their “masterpieces”, especially if it came from an “uncultured swine” such as him.
But once again, Stolas surprised him by delivering a pleased smile in lieu of a hissy fit. “Well, I’m glad you like it. Eat up now, or it’ll get cold.”
Blitzø chose not to shoot off a shitty comeback, despite being rankled by the “order”. He took out his bubbling frustrations out on his food, picking up the plate and bringing it close enough to begin shoveling the omelet into his mouth like a starving man.
The petty, spiteful gremlin that was roughly, meeeh, ninety percent of his overall personality hoped that such a messy personality hoped that such a messy display would earn at least, would earn a groan of disgust. Always did the trick when he wanted to annoy Moxxie.
However, much to Blitzø’s complete consternation, the owl just gave a small humored hoot and returned to the hotplate with a single crack or insult. Like he didn’t give two shits about his bad manners.
Blitzø internally growled. What an ASS.
. . . A pretty ass, but still.
“I’m glad you’re pleased by my cooking skills.” The big bastard (Yes, Blitzø was calling him that again, suck it.) said happily, busying by wiping down the skillet while beating a new batch of eggs and sliding two slices of bread into a small old-fashioned toaster. “I have to admit, my main specialty is baking and drinks, but I try my best to expand my range of cuisine when I can.”
Once the yolks and whites were thoroughly whipped, there were poured into the skillet and almost immediately they started to sizzle and bubble from the rewarmed metal. “Unfortunately, I can’t cook the kind of food necessary to run a full-fledged cafe’.”
Blitzø swallowed a sizable bite of egg and pepper before asking, “Can’t you just wiggle your fingers and hocus pocus a steak or something?”
Stolas shook his head. “Alas that’s more Lady Beelzebub’s forte than mine. Even my magic can only do so much. Now if this was a flower shop that would be another matter, but it is what it is.”
“I’m glad it isn’t.” Via piped up. “I love Daddy’s cafe’! And I love helping him cook!”
“And you do such a magnificent job, my Owlette.” Stolas’s praise was followed by a small plate of scrambled eggs encircled by toast cut into the shape of flowers and mice, covered in butter and jam. Via took it with a bright thanks, digging in right away with a sparkly pink fork also provided by Stolas. “But sadly, a cafe’ needs more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk to cater to wider clientele. Not that I’m downplaying your talent as a chef, darling.”
“I’s okay, Daddy.” Via said, crumbs dotted on her beak from biting into one of her toast flowers. “I know it’s only because I’m not big enough to use the stove yet.” Blitzø mirrored her smile as she beamed up at him. “Once I can do that, Daddy said I could make even better dishes just like him.”
“Indeed I will, Starfire.” Stolas affirmed. “But for now, I’ll have to settle for looking for another cook. Sadly though -” Stolas pulled a face. “- There hasn’t been one suitable enough to help me run things here.”
“Yeah, it’s hard running the show solo.” Blitzø agreed. “Sucks even more when you don’t have a good crew to back you up. Don’t know where I’d be with M&M.”
Stolas blinked. “Uhm, ‘M&M’?”
Via blinked too. “Like the candy?”
Blitzø snickered. “Nah, Moxxie and Millie, friends of mine and my emplo-” He cut himself off with a grimace. “Well. Who were supposed to be my employees.”
The sudden downtrodden shift that overcame the imp id not go unnoticed by Stolas. “‘Supposed to be?’ What does that -”
“Don’t ask.” Blitzø said curtly. After a second, he added a little less harshly. “I-I don’t really wanna get into it right now.”
Because if I do, I KNOW I’m just going to get pissed off and do something shitty all over again.
“. . . . Alright then.”
Blitzø could hear it clear as day that the bird bastard had more questions, and would more than likely prefer to bombard him with rapid-fire questions like Moxxie would when he wanted to be particularly annoying. But thank Satan, he looked put off enough to put him off.
Small blessings.
The next few minutes passed in silence. The lull of it broken only by the sounds of silverware hitting the plates as Blitzø and Via ate, the drip of coffee as more was brewed in the pot and the subdued sounds of crunching each time either a somewhat concerned Via offered Blitzø a bite of her toast or, returning the favor, when he offered her a bite of bacon or sausage – He learned quick that she didn’t like peppers so much so he did well to avoid giving her any filled-to-the-brim bites. He could only hoped that the reason she liked it wasn’t because the meat that was in it wasn’t made from rodent.
It probably was, though, because . . . Birds.
Eventually, Blitzø had cleaned his plate, a satisfying weight settling in his stomach, he let out a contented sigh, his headache feeling miles better than almost a half hour before. “Woo, that was good. A frickin’ plus.”
The owl’s smiled chased away some of the terseness from before. “Happy to hear it. It’s always good to get good reviews on new dishes.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Quick question, though.”
“Yes?”
Blitzø pointed at the now empty plate. “Level with me – Was there any mice in that? Because, I get it, you and Via are birds, but I kinda draw the line when it comes to eating plague-carrying little turds.”
Stolas tittered at that. “No, no, I assure you, no lovely vermin of any kind was served to you. Unfortunately, I’ve learned that mice are terrible cures for hangovers.”
“What’s a hangover?” Via asked in that no-filter, childishly clueless way that all little hellspawn did.
Stolas, in a perfectly natural response to such a question, was freeze awkwardly. “O-oh, well, erm-”
Blitzø supplied the answer. “It’s like a really bad stomach bug, but for grown-ups.” Giving the little owl a conspiratorial grin, he added in a fake whisper, “Basically, if you eat too much green stuff, your poop comes out greener than Mammon’s butt.”
Via burst into a peal of little girl laughter that definitely brought an easy diffusion to Stolas’s unease, even earning a couple of barely smothered hoots that were poorly hidden by his hand.
Huh. That was twist.
Usually the parents were scolding him at this point, the usual uptight bullshit spiel about “using such vulgar language in front of their innocent little babies, you demented little firetoad!”
Not that he gave a shit because he was a comic genius, fuckyou, Moxxie.
After a bit, both birds managed to quell their laughter enough for Stolas to gently urge Via to head upstairs and get ready for the day. She agreed without protest, stopping only to allow Blitzø to ruffle her headfeathers as he added, “Gotta look cute for the suckers!” That earned him an admonishing look from Stolas that was weakened by his approving smile.
A smile that only grew bigger when Via caught the imp completely off-guard with an unexpected hug, her tiny arms wrapping swiftly and tightly around his waist, almost sending him falling off his stool. Before he could recover, Via was already heading up the staircase, humming cheerfully all the way.
Stolas’s soft chuckle drew Blitzø out of his shock. “Via has certainly taken a liking to you quickly.”
“Uh, yeah, I-I guess.” Blitzø rubbed at the back of his neck. “Last time I got hugged like that, some piece of shit nicked my wallet to buy thirty Bruiser King gift cards.”
“Oh, that’s a pity.”
“Joke was on him, though, he got food poisoning with the first card he used.”
Stolas hummed approvingly as he poured them both a fresh cup of coffee. “Well, I suppose there is such a thing as karma.”
Blitzø barked out a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, and maybe there’s a God.” He accepted the refilled mug, along with the offered sugar and creamers, and dumped almost each one in like an alcoholic adding liqueur. “Uh, speakin’ of, what do I owe ya?”
Stolas, who had added his own preferred condiments to his coffee in much more moderate manner, paused in his blowing at the steam rising from his mug. “Pardon?”
“What do I owe ya? For the food and coffee.” After a moment, he also added with only a tiny wince of guilt. “And whatever else my drunk ass did to your place before I blacked out.”
By emotionally-traumatized principle, he wouldn’t have asked outright. Often times, being the victim of a classist system that shat on those on the bottom rung, he had been subjected to grossly padded bills and unexpected expenses issued by a good percentage of the “well-to-do” owners of “upstanding establishments” where he wound up spending half the night washing up dishes. Once he got fast enough, and only if neither the food nor the service was worth the lightening of his wallet. Blitzø didn’t hesitate to pull a dine and dash; making escapes either through the bathroom window, the vent, or once through riding one of those fancy dining carts into the kitchen and out the employee entrance that admittingly had been fun to ride . . .
. . . Right up until he learned too late that the entrance opened right up to a three-story staircase with no handrail.
Needless to say, that had been one shitty ride to the hospital, Moxxie lecturing him the whole damn eight miles.
After everything – And he meant everything – in his lower body healed, he opted to hold out on anymore dashing. At least until the little baby-dick whineypuss would get off his fucking back about paying.
That aside, he saw no reason to be the deadbeat bun right now. Not when Stolas had been nothing but polite towards him. Even though he certainly didn’t deserve such kindness . . .
He braced himself for the amount as he took a long sip of his sweetened coffee -
“Oh, you needn’t worry – You don’t owe me a sint.”
Blitzø sputtered into his mug, nearly choking on the brew as he processed the owl’s words. “*Cough* *Cough* *Hack* Blegh! Excuse me?”
“You don’t need to pay me.” Stolas restated. “Like I said, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been nothing but civil, you are obviously sorry for any offense you think you’ve given – Not that you have, don’t make that face – And more importantly, Via likes you. So I see no reason to change you.”
Blitzø frowned at him. “You’re screwing with me.” He stated flatly.
“I assure you, I am not. Honestly, your praise over your breakfast was payment enough. In all honesty, you were doing me a favor.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t get a chance to try out new recipes on new faces very often, so any new opinions are always appreciated.” Blitzø felt his face fault at the slow, awfully sensual smile the owl sent him. “Especially ones as sublime as yours.”
Blitzø forgoed looking him in the eye, each cerise eye of his hooded and looking at him like he was going to be the next dish for him to devour, choosing instead to chug down half the contents of his mug. Gulping audibly, he mumbled back, “Glad I was such a good guinea pig for you.”
“I prefer the term ‘freelanced taste-taster’, personally.” Stolas retorted politely.
“I don’t want your charity.” Blitzø bit at him.
“Nor am I giving it to you. Like I said, you did me a favor.”
“How do you know I’m not some thieving bastard taking adventure of goody-two-shoes shop owners like you?”
“I have measures set to prevent such an occurrence.”
“I’m an undercover health inspector and you just failed.”
“Now you’re just grasping, dear.”
Blitzø rubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t just -” He let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I get you’re an . . . Okay guy and you are obviously trying to set a good example for your kid. I get that, but I don’t want to be the lasting impression of what to expect when giving out freebies to poor drunken bitches like me. No one should have to deal with that without getting paid, -”
“Mister Blitzø.”
Stolas’s firm tone stopped him with the sharpness of a smacked ruler. His face was stern, but not completely harsh as he eyes were looking at him with a softness that pricked at his chest.
“You. Do. Not. Me. Anything. And when I say something like that, it’s because I mean it with all the sincerity that is implied. It is not just for the sake of looking good in front of Via and certainly not some sort of dastardly ruse to get you to lower your guard. You’ve apologized and you meant it, you’ve been kind towards my daughter and enjoyed my cooking without bias or sarcasm. That said, believe me when I tell that is something I care for much more than any check or bill.”
Stolas sipped at his coffee calmly, making no comment about the for certain mollified expression on his face. “So, please, no more apologies. They are appreciated, but to be honest, after twenty-two of them, it just feels repetitive.”
Blitzø gave him a look. “Sorry what now?”
“Mister Blitzø -”
“Nah, nah, what you just said, the fuck you mean I said sorry twenty-two times?”
Stolas’s beak dropped into a thin line, taking a moment to maybe think his words over before formulating a response, “When Via and I found you last night, you were in a . . . A great deal of distress.” He was clearly trying to more emphatic than judgmental. “You were greatly intoxicated and horridly incoherent. Once I was close enough, all I could hear was you saying sorry over and over.”
Blitzø could feel himself growing hot from the neck up in embarrassment. The apprehensive caution in Stolas’s voice was doing fuck all to help the crashing wave of shame following up like a speeding train.
He didn’t need Stolas to tell him what he was bawling like a baby over.
But, ever the bottom bitch for punishment, asked anyway. “. . . I say what for?”
Stolas then turned sheepish. “O-Oh well, uh-uhm, I don’t quite recall -”
“Bird, I don’t do any of that hee-haw Shit, it’s too early and I’m still hungover and all I’m gonna do is get pissed off now WHAT did I SAY?”
With two sets of eyes, it was easy to see that Blitzø was not going to give up on getting an answer. Stolas sighed softly.
“You made a great deal of apologies to a great deal of people. I didn’t catch every name but, erm, you had quite the list.” He sipped at his mug, stalling for only a minute before continuing.
“You apologized to a miss Mistly for dinging her car door while trying parallel park by a Wacdonald’s, a miss Queen for breaking smashing her one of a kind pirate ship in a bottle instead of the pinata by accident on her birthday, a miss Millie for chipping her favorite ax, a mister Moxxie for making him run all the way to Greed for a single battery for your TV remote, dropping his guitar fourteen times, borrowing his wallet, or more accurately, pinching his wallet to pay for Voxflix twice, a miss Barbie for stealing one of her skirts and ripping it whilst performing a split, I couldn’t really make out what exactly you were apologizing to a “Vee” and a “Fizz” for -”
“Okay!” Blitzø blurted out. “Okay! I get it! I get it! I was a hot mess, no more shit needed, I got it!” He cringed at the indignant crack in his voice. Christ, like he didn’t look enough like a pathetic shit already. He might as well plan to fake his own death again.
You know what they say, fifth time’s the charm.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Stolas’s weak attempt to reassure him only bounced off of the imp like a ping-pong ball. “It really wasn’t. Really, you should have seen me afterwards when I was binge-drinking.”
Blitzø scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you got real frisky from all those white wine spritzers.”
“Actually, I tended to lean more towards absinthe.” Stolas retorted, with no little bit of sass, taking a small bit of gratification from Blitzø’s surprised. “Of course, with how I was knocking back each bottle, you’d almost believe they were Purgerade drinks.”
Blitzø lifted his head from where he had been pressing it into the bartop. “Damn, how many we talkin’?”
“At least two to three on a good night, or whatever was close to that.”
The imp gave a low whistle. “”Fuck me, bird. I get shit-faced after half a bottle, how the fuck are you still standing?”
“At this point, stubbornness and sheer dumb luck, I believe.” Stolas quipped.
That startled enough mirth in Blitzø to actually make him laugh. “Join the club, pal.”
“I fear I cannot, as I have cut back my vigorous drinking to properly attend to Octavia. Leaving my former occupation did wonders for helping me cub the habit.”
“Bosses sucked that bad, huh?”
“Doubly so, considering it was a family business, sort to speak, although, I can assure they were family in name only.”
“Ugh. Preachin’ to the fuckin’ choir – there’s only so much shitty family a bitch could take in one day.”
“That, Mister Blitzø, I can wholeheartedly agree on.”
There were getting off-track. Blitzø bit his lip. “. . . I’m sorry for my shit.”
“For the final time, no more apologizes are necessary.”
He angled his head towards the staircase door. “I probably scared your kid.”
“Via has seen far worse, I assure you. Even when off your cups, you weren’t untoward her in any way, so you can save any of the claims of indecency that you’ve half-heartedly concocted in that crafty little mind of yours.”
“Just let me fuckin’ pay you.”
“I neither require nor want your money and I promise you, should you try to force any $ouls on me, I will promptly set it to aflame.”
“Lilith’s titties, you’re a stubborn bitch.”
“And you are an equally stubborn spendthrift.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not without dinner, if you please.”
Blitzø groaned. “God, we’re gonna keep talking in circles if you don’t just charge me and get it over with. I’m not fucking broke, I have the $ouls, just let me pay you.”
Stolas’s counter remark definitely caught Blitzø unawares. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done something genuinely kind for you, hasn’t it?”
Blitzø’s hackles rose instantly at the “innocent” statement. “You trying to say something?”
Stolas merely sipped at his coffee. “Just an assessment.”
“Or you being a dickhead.”
“I made you a free breakfast for which I expect nothing in return. I am being absolutely forthright whereas you are choosing not to believe that I have no ulterior motives. Who, might I ask, is being the dickhead here?”
Oh, this smug bitch.
He had wanted to let loose a snarl that would make the owl falter in his not requested charity streak. He felt the urge already rising in his throat, ready to finally tell off this prick who was seriously starting to piss him off . . .
. . . But could only let out a low whine at the exhaustion of prolonging the one-sided argument, the fatigue of a bad night, getting totally smashed and crashing just as hard setting in. Being still half hungover sure as shit was not helping to keep the spark of pride burning.
If anything, Blitzø felt even more tired.
He wanted nothing more than to lay everything out, pay whatever the fucking bird deserved and drag his broke-back ass back home and lick his wounds from last night. And the only thing that was stopping him was getting through to this royally stubborn and feathery (Not to mention pretty soft-looking) bastard of a demon.
“Alright, look – I want to pay you back, but for some weird ass reason, you won’t let me.”
“I think we have perfectly established that.”
“So we got a problem.”
“Which could be solved by you accepting my putting your breakfast on the house.”
“And it should be clear as fuck that ain’t happening.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
Blitzø blew a breath of air out of his nose. “I’m not just being an asshole here – I don’t like owing people anything. I’ve been dipping in and out of debts for years, financial and personal. And just that fucking recently I finally managed to pay off a good chunk of them only to literally be screwed over again almost the same fucking day. So now I’m once again edging too damn close to bankruptcy for my liking.”
He gave the owl a flat look. “Meaning I can’t take any chances, such as freebies or random handouts, cuz Charity was just as easily turn into high-interest loans with zero time frames for return payments, unless you want to set up an installment plan that involves cutting out pounds of flesh ever week. Obviously, a guy like me can’t afford to look any more fucked up than he is with a chunk of anything missing.
“All that said, do you see what I’m gettin’ at?”
“. . . . I’m starting to.” Stolas said with a considerate look.
“Satisfaction eased through Blitzø’s frame. “Great. Glad we finally got that -”
“All the same, you needn’t pay me.”
And just like that it was gone.
He growled so sharply it would have destroyed eardrums had he done it inside of headphone speakers. “You fuckin’-”
“But since you won’t accept the gesture,” Stolas interrupted calmly. “How about just doing me a special favor?”
“‘Special favor’?” Blitzø blinked. “What kinda -”
A sound not unlike a light bulb dinged in his thank full-no-longer-as-sore cranium.
Oh.
Oh okay.
He gave a resigned sigh. “Hooookay, look, tootsie hootsie, if you just wanted a quick shag in the back all you had to do was ask. But I gotta warn ya, the place I’ve fucked in was a public bathroom that probably wasn’t cleaned in the last year or two, so I’ll probably need to wipe down the goods with something. Baby wipes would be good if got’em -”
“NO!” A spluttered hoot brought his attention back to Stolas, whose heart-shaped features had turned an almost violent shade of crimson in the span of half a minute. “No! No, no! Not that kind of favor, no! I mean I need your mouth!”
Blitzø gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, I got that much, relax.”
“No! No! I mean -” Stolas let out a shaky warble before planting his face into his hands while muttering to himself in fit of bashfulness.
Blitzø just sipped at his coffee, waiting for him to spit whatever he wanted to say out. To his credit, he didn’t stare, knowing from his own share of verbal vomiting moments that doing that would just make his embarrassment worse.
Even though he no clue what the fuck he was suddenly so damn worked up about.
I mean, fuck, if I had a sint for each time I said the “wrong” things, I’d be raking in more money more green than Mammon.
A deep breath. “Forgive me, I’m doing this all wrong. I’m trying to offer you a deal. Something, I hope, will mutually beneficial to the both of us.”
The incredulous look on Blitzø’s face was quickly addressed. “Nothing vulgar or dramatic involved, you needn’t worry. Nothing of the sort.” He took another deep breath. “I would like for to come in again, and try my cooking.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Say what now?”
Stolas made a small noise of exasperation. “As I said, I’m still relatively new to running a business dealing with dining and catering and the like. I’m often pushed into having to spontaneously expand my range of techniques and specialties depending on my success. I know I’m capable, but I know that I can’t just rely on my own opinion and preferences alone. Even more so when I’m attempting new dishes. As such, I need an outside opinion.”
The imp blinked. “And yooouuu think that’s me?”
Stolas nodded. “Very much so.”
“Some fucking rando off the street who broke into your private property, was wasted out of his mind and could just as easily rob you blind despite these so-called ‘measures’ you said you have?”
“Not as ‘so-called’ as you say, but yes.”
“Rrrright.” Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Don’tcha have, I dunno other foodie friends, you can ask? Or maybe just wait for some famous food blogger critic douchebag to to come in and give you a rating?”
“None that would trust to be fair or take seriously, or assume my want for approval is really a want for cheap compliments – that I’m desperate enough to give someone license to either be obnoxiously petty or to deliver the best shallow review that procures them a not so low-key invitation to my bedroom.”
Blitzø grunted. “Asshats.”
“You should see how quickly they recoil as soon as they learn of Via.”
“Fuckin’ asshats.”
“Quite.” Stolas affirmed. “And to answer your other question, yes, I do have others whose say I do value, but I’ve heard relying on the biased does not help one’s credibility. I do appreciate the precious few whom I’m fortunate enough to have as friends, but I need a healthy dose of honesty from outside sources to provoke me to experiment and expand myself.”
“And you think that guy is me?” Blitzø repeated, gesturing to himself crudely.
“Of course.”
“Bullshit.”
“Good gracious, and you call me stubborn.”
“It’s not -” He let out a small snarl.
Seriously? He was still keeping this up? Enough was enough.
“Look, I get you’re trying to be nice, I get that. But, trust me, I’m the last fucking guy you want to be nice to let alone have around. Seriously, ask fucking anyone in hearing distance – I’m a right bastard on a good day and a pushy dickhead on a bad one, I’ve fucked up more people than I’ve actually helped and you would have more sense to shoot me rather than invite me over again. I mean, you gotta kid to think about, and -”
Blitzø shook his head. “And you don’t want me messin’ with your business. The one I tried starting flopped before I even got my feet off the ground. Pretty sure that speaks a fuckton for how helpful I can be towards you.”
He could barely ignore the burning sting of truth in that statement.
Saying all the shit that was a constant boiling inside him all out loud sucked.
It sucked balls.
He knew it was better than letting it all rot and fester like he let everything else – But it still sucked.
Fuck what his therapist said about it being being cathartic. He should quit that bitch.
It’s not like he would be able to pay them for much longer anyway.
Blitzø knew he was not the kind of person to be asked to come back. Even the scraps of friends he had managed to hang on to could barely wait for him to leave as soon as he said hello.
Moxxie was the leading example of proving him right. Even when Blitzø actually adhered to his demands of privacy and properly asking for invites to visit, (That Blitzø still found completely anal of him although he bit his lip) Moxxie was adamant to get him out the door before he could even get two fucks in.
Even Millie, Moxxie’s blast and a half of a wife, who was far more accommodating than her whore-back husband, drew the line when it came to his company being longer than necessary.
That was to say fucking nothing about his own flesh and blood.
Barbie Wire, his twin sister, his other half, would sooner see him six feet under before seeing him again.
Cash Buckzo, his father, never asked for him, never wanted him, and made it a point of telling him so straight to his face more than once.
His mother, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She sure as fuck would have been better off without him.
And his exes? Those who he didn’t remember or couldn’t care to remember, those he never took a chance on because of him being too much of a pussy to try?”
Verosika? It was pretty fucking clear on how that went.
Fizz?
He was never wanted.
He was never missed.
He was never asked to come back.
Not for a visit.
Not for a drink.
Never just to hang and shoot the shit.
He was always tossed away as soon as necessary.
He was always left behind, pushed aside, shoved into the background.
Forgotten.
Dead for all those concerned.
Dead, except in the way he wanted when he was at the lowest he could be.
No one ever missed him.
No one ever wanted him back.
Nobody.
“. . . . I fuck things up more often than I get them right. There’s a pretty good chance if you get involved with me, shit’s gonna go sideways for you too.”
He wasn’t sure if he had muttered that part aloud or not. Not that he gave a shit.
He halfway expected to be asked to repeat himself.
Or maybe Stolas would curse him under his breath for being such a dramatic bitch.
Maybe he would finally cut the bullshit and be real about what the fuck that he really wanted from him.
However, all Blitzø got in response, was a soft touch at his wrist, soft as silk and just as gentle.
Along with two sets of big cerise rose eyes that crinkled gently at the corners as they held his gaze with calmness and sympathy.
And maybe something else, but that could’ve been that whiny, fractured part of himself making up what wasn’t actually there.
“I’ve taken far riskier gambles than trusting a stranger out of the blue, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas spoke in such a comforting voice. “And I have yet to lose from any of them. Perhaps it’s rather cocky to say so, but since my winning streak has yet to be broken, I think you’re a rather good bet to take a chance on.”
The tender smile, that was nothing short of dazzling, he gave Blitzø at the end such a declaration was a damn good seller.
Satan forbid this man ever works for Vox – cause with that smile, he could sell gas station keys like they were the keys to gates of Eden itself. I mean, if his touch alone could send sparks up my arm like he was doing right now. . .
Fuck him if he knew.
The hand causing such a feeling than gave two soft pats to his wrist before lifting away to grab the coffee pot once more, refilling Blitzø’s mug with still steaming java and the exact number of sugars and creams he had diluted it with before.
“So, how does coming in twice, three times a week sound? I usually close the cafe’ around seven since I try to get Octavia in bed by eight thirty on weeknights. If you like to come by over the weekend, I close around six thirty to seven o’clock depending on how busy I get. Except any catering orders or special events, I’m not fussy over whenever you come over. All I ask is that you let me know when you’re coming by in advance so I can have something ready for you. A day or two ahead would be just fine.”
Blitzø, this time, could not find in him to groan loudly in protest to the blatant hardheaded dismissal of the what seemed like hours long argument. The argument he bitterly realized that he couldn’t fight against.
That did nothing to stop him from throwing his head back and scowling at the annoying as shit clean ceiling tiles above them.
“. . . . . . . You really aren’t gonna give this up, are you?” He said after a while.
“I suppose I’m about as bull-headed as you are.”
Blitzø gave a chuffing laugh at that.
Well, fuck.
What was he supposed to do with that?
What could he do with that?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Fuck it, if the worst happened, he could just disappear again, right?
Not likely Stolas would look for him just for a review, right?
. . . . Right.
“. . . . . . . . . . The peppers and onions were both sweet.”
Stolas blinked at him like the owl he was.
Heh. Cute.
“The omelet was good, but it was kinda over-sweetened; I don’t know what kinda onions you added but personally I would use a more subtle kind of onion to help round out the sweetness of the peppers.”
He let this sink in for a moment before continuing, “I remember seeing you add a green pepper so next time I would recommend using a shallot, maybe about half a tablespoon’s worth should be right. A regular tablespoon’s good too if you don’t use too much of the peppers.”
He sipped at his refreshed coffee. “I personally, like some spice in my eggs to help me wake up, so don’t be afraid to throw some in the mix in the future. Like oregano or basil. You don’t have to go crazy with the amount, though, - just about when you’re making the bowl and a few dashes of it on top when ya put it on the plate. It’ll pair well with the tomatoes and not distract you too much from the rest of the food.”
He took a breath. “Coffee’s good, strong enough to double as a chemical peel, everything any caffeine addict is looking for. The aftertaste doesn’t turn me off from drinking the rest and from how it feels going down I am a hundred and fifteen percent sure you’re a nit-pick bitch cuz I taste how finely you ground the beans without turning them to powder. It’s good ya didn’t because that shit’s only good foe about half hour before fighting to keep your eyes open by either shooting up some dope or knocking back enough 66-Hour-Energy drinks to give the Big B a heart attack.”
Shouldn’t he stop? Maybe he was saying too much. Stolas had asked for honesty and Blitzø was doing his best to deliver it with as little jackassery as possible.
Problem was, for Blitzø, jackassery was his default language, according to practically everyone and their fat mom’s. And, most of the time, he didn’t even realize how much he let slip out before he got a sharp crack across the face. Or a knee to the balls.
He chanced a look at Stolas. If he looked upset, he could take it all back. It wasn’t too late, he could still backtrack -
Tiny stars sparked in Stolas’s wide eyes. Small and bright and beautiful, looking every bit like the twinkling little lights his mom would tell stories to him and Barbie back in their childhood. After the circus ring was cleared of trash and the last Hellhorse was tucked in their stall. Back when, even thought hings weren’t easy, everything was okay.
Before everything suddenly wasn’t.
Stolas, upon noticing Blitzø looking at him, instantly grew more flustered in some odd cacophony of joy and mortification, his plumage fluffing up from the top of his crown to the little floof of feathers on his chest. His hands belated came up to smooth them back into place, unfortunately they did little to quell them along with the rosy blush that tinted his face plate into an eye-catching pink.
Damn, this bird was so cute it was unfair.
The anxious itch in his chest was put to ease right there and then.
This couldn’t actually work, could it?
. . . Could it?
. . . . . . Maybe. Just maybe.
Emboldened, Blitzø sent the owl a lazy smile that easily darkened the pink on his face, matching the warmth the imp felt on his own face. “The apple was like a fucking angel feather, so soft and tasty. You have got to show me how the ever-loving fuck you made it turning to to applesauce ‘cause that shit was better than fuckin’ crack.”
Stolas looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be elated or overwhelmed.
After an awkwardly long amount of time, he clearly had settled on elation. His upper set of eyes turned upward in little crescents as his beak returned the smile with a brightness that Blitzø felt proud of bring out.
“I’d be happy to, darling.”
To be continued . . .
ME: Hey all you sinners & saints! Who’s excited for HAZBIN HOTEL coming out this friday?!?!?!? (Or Thursday if you actually watch it at it’s appointed time) I know I am!
I am SO EXCITED AND DESPERATELY TRYING TO IGNORE THE FACT THIS STORY IS LITTERALLY GOING TO LOST IN HAZBIN HIGH THAT I KNOW IS COMING FOR THE PAST WEEK. AND THE WEEK AFTER THAT. And the week after that . . .
ANYWAYSO, here is the recipe for the Mega-Omelet, which let me tell, just reading the ingredients alone mad me feel full! Also, what do you do for your respective hangovers? Let me know in the comments!
I’ll have the next (& FINAL chapter of this installment) written and posted as soon as I can, so until then, eat hearty, everyone!
Oh, and enjoy your stay at the Hazbin Hotel . . .
#helluva boss#stolitz#helluva boss fanfiction#helluva boss fanfic#my fanfic#cafe' au#Based on Pink Lomito's original AU art#Cooking#Kid Octavia#Blitz & Via Bonding#Mega Omelet#Included recipe#Chef! Stolas#SOME angst#Hangovers and remedies#blitzø#blitzo#blitz helluva boss#stolas goetia#stolas#prince stolas#stolas helluva boss#octavia#octavia goetia#octavia helluva boss
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Preview for "The Magic of Consequences" the April Patreon Short Story
(warnings ahead for temporary, implied child death and implied abuse. Please take care of yourselves)
*.*.*
See, the thing about being a witch was that people had misconceptions about your profession. They thought you were busy cooking soup made of eyes and frog feet, or bottling the souls of whoever pissed you off to sell them to monsters and demons.
And sure, sometimes you handled disgusting ingredients – some made you whisper 'ew ew ew ew' under your breath the entire time. And sure, sometimes you made deals with unsavory, strange creatures. And, yeah, alright sometimes you did bottle souls, but you had never cut off a poor frog's feet. Or plucked out someone's eyes.
The sad part was, despite your best attempts to polish your reputation, people rarely sought you out for good reasons. You had made so many health tonics at the beginning of your career, excited to go around and make things a little better, only to be semi-gently reminded by reality that you should have gone and become a herbalist instead.
But herbalists had little to no magic and wasting your talent for the arcane had seemed stupid at the time. You hadn't had the money for the mage schools growing up and when a hedge witch had found you spelling apples to turn your bully's hair a bright, ugly color, you had found yourself with an impromptu teacher instead.
By now you were used to being sought out for less than savory deals, people appearing in your shop with hooded cloaks and shifty eyes and overly-obvious glances around for any witnesses. The utterly unimpressed face you greeted them with tended to make them even more shifty.
More often than not you managed to talk them down from their really, really dumb ideas – like desiring to love-potion-trap a prince in marriage or robbing a barony – but the rest of the time people were too intent on their dumb decisions.
Everything had consequences. You had written that in big, big bold letters on everything you sold. You pointed it out verbally as well every time someone bought an ill-advised potion or spell from you.
"Why did I become I witch," you groused to yourself as you bottled a potion that made flowers smell like rotting corpses and beer-farts, because some asshole two towns over knew he wouldn't win the flower presentation competition next week with honest, hard work. What a loser.
"Oh, I'll help people, I said," you grumbled, stuffing a cork into the bottle and almost making it spill in the process. "Oh, I'll make people happy, I said."
You set the bottle aside and started to clean the cauldron when you heard the bell of the front door jingle. "I'll be with you in a moment!"
After cleaning up and making a face at something squishy that squelched beneath your foot – some things liked to bubble over and this potion had just been an all-around headache – you walked to the front of your shop.
A very young woman, clearly a noble considering the stupidly fancy clothes and jewelry, was waiting for you, peering at some of the bottles for sale.
See, nobles were trouble. Nothing but trouble. If the farmer wanted to take revenge on his cheating wife, fine. If a bandit wanted to conjure a storm for his robbery, whatever. If a miner wanted to steal jewels from his employer unnoticed, it was none of your business.
You could deny those people whatever you wanted or grant them whatever you wanted. At the end of the day, they were just normal people who were more or less stab-happy.
But nobles? Ugh.
They had mages in their employ to deal with many problems, Astrologers who could tell their fortunes, treasurers who ensured they could afford nearly anything they wanted and there were other nobles they were allied with. In short, they had power and if they showed up at your doorstep it meant they wanted things that their already impressive collection of options couldn't grant them.
Which was curses.
"I hear you're quite the competent witch," the young noble said and you eyed her warily. She looked like she was barely eighteen, it wouldn't surprise you if her wedding was in, like, a month or something.
Nobles always got married to someone, last you heard, which made many lads and lasses, no matter their station, sigh and day-dream about one day being chosen as a spouse, no matter how impossible that dream was in some cases.
What, did she want to ensure her future spouse wouldn't cheat? Or had she been spurned and turned away in favor of someone else and now she wanted to get rid of the competition before she had to officially cancel the wedding? It happened sometimes and people really loved to gossip when nobles chose a different partner than their intended.
"I guess," you said, barely keeping a sour tone in check. This young woman probably wanted nothing good from you. Great.
You really should stop stocking healing tonics. For some reason, people always thought they would turn them ugly or give them illnesses or crooked dicks.
The young woman frowned. "You don't sound very sure about that." She then pressed her lips together. "But no matter, you are my last resort."
She turned to face you fully, her fancy dress sweeping dramatically with the movement and she raised her chin, proud and confident and it could almost hide the anxious shine in her eyes. "I need a curse."
Outwardly you nodded sagely. Inwardly you sighed so dramatically and theatrically that you had to bite down on the urge to whine like a spoiled child. You didn't want to do curses. Curses fucking sucked. But who were you to deny a customer? Especially one with both the money and the ability to make your life either better or a living hell.
Because, surprise surprise, plenty of the ingredients you needed for potions or spells did not come cheap. No one had ever bothered to tell you that being a witch in general was not cheap in the slightest. All the stories about witches in walking huts or in cottages in the woods had really set you up for disappointment.
"What kind of curse?" you asked and then pointed at the sign hung right behind and above you. 'Everything has Consequences' was written in big, big letters by a really fancy hand.
You had even paid a fairy to make it glitter a bit. People liked glittery stuff, right? So far the glitter certainly had made sure everyone read the signs, but that was it. At least, the ones that could read did.
The young woman read it quickly too, then focused on you with more determination. "I need a curse that turns a princess into a monster."
Oh. Uh. That was...well, you could do it, but... "That's a very hefty curse, with equally hefty consequences," you said cautiously. "Maybe there are other ways to get you what you want? Maybe a temporary transformation spell? Perhaps something to pretty you up to catch a prince's eye, not that you need it, of course."
You were not in the business of selling love potions, because ew. Same with those annoying sleeping-beauty potions that required the asleep one to be kissed awake. Look, you were an asshole and you had cursed a couple of people already, but you did draw the line at all that non-consensual love stuff.
Even witches needed to draw lines somewhere.
"No, I need a curse," the young woman said, with a voice firm enough to give mithril a run for its money.
You considered saying no, before you remembered all the reasons why you shouldn't. If you refused her you'd probably have to escape her wrath, uproot your life and settle down elsewhere.
You were lazy, though, and you didn't want to do that unless it became necessary. Besides, every curse could be broken and you'd just give this curse a really easy way to get out of it. You did that for every curse you sold, because you weren't asshole enough to leave people stuck in some horrible reality for years on end.
"Do you want the monster to be sentient or not?" you asked. In case she didn't, you'd make sure the curse could be broken by, like, drinking water or something.
The young woman blinked, then seemed to perk up, looking suddenly eager. "I can decide what the monster is?"
"If you're willing to pay more," you said with a shrug. You were a good witch and curses, for as little as you liked to cast them most of the time, had always been your best subject.
You threw your health tonics a forlorn look, noting the faint dust that had started to gather on the shelves around them and a bit on the bottles themselves.
"I'll pay you anything you want," the noble lady said, her eyes suddenly filled with a hopeful gleam and a smile appeared on her face for the first time. It made her look even younger and you realized just how grim she had been previously. Huh.
You leaned against the counter to be more comfortable and reached for a piece of paper and a quill to write down what she wanted. The young woman was downright grinning by the time she had the curse tailored to her every whim.
"Wait here," you said, studying the list of demands as you ducked into the backroom. Thankfully, you had bought a couple of rare ingredients just a couple of days ago, so you managed to cobble together what you needed for the spell.
Fairy wings – not plucked, because again, you weren't that kind of asshole and a number of fairies had to molt their wings a number of times as they grew and some even every spring - wolf teeth and a griffin feather.
You carried everything out, the young woman watching curiously as you ground the teeth and wings to fine dust which you then rubbed thoroughly onto the feather. All that was left was the transformation spell that would complete the curse.
Dark magic flowed through you easily enough, the wood around you graying and the very air itself growing cold and hungry, like a drooling beast was gnashing its teeth, bright eyes focused on the tooth-and-fairy-wing-dusted feather.
Once the spell was completed, your surroundings returning to normal, you put the feather into a silk bag and handed it over.
"Put it under the pillow of the one you want to curse, they must sleep on it for six hours straight," you told the young woman. "And remember, consequences."
The young woman clearly wasn't listening anymore, accepting the bag while she absentmindedly set down a pouch of coin. You started to count out the gold you'd need, since she had brought more than enough, when you heard the bell and the door closing.
Looking up, the young woman was gone.
Huh. Well, you weren't going to say no to all that extra money. You scooped everything up and dropped it off in a spelled chest to protect your most precious possessions from sticky fingers. That taken care of, you returned to cleaning up the backroom, especially the squishy smear on the ground.
A couple of days later you heard of the terrible curse that had befallen the kingdom's princess and how the wedding between her and some kind of far-away prince was off the table for the time being.
The thing with your curses was, the cursed one instinctively knew the cure the moment they got cursed. You ensured that, to give them the chance to go and fix the problem themselves. None of that 'someone must fall in love with you' nonsense. This particular curse could be fixed by seeking the nearest doorway, doing a little chicken-dance and clapping trice afterwards and et voilá, the curse was gone.
Easy-peasy. The princess should be back to her old self in no time.
You quickly got distracted by some asshole teenagers that wanted to buy itching-powder to prank someone and just as they left with a vial of the stuff in tow, a little boy hurried inside with tears on his face. He put down three copper, looking very, very scared and asked in a wavering voice if you could fix his dog, holding up a tiny and very weak puppy.
It was the first time someone had asked you for that kind of help. To heal. You grabbed harpy feather and reached out to rest your fingertips on the tiny puppy's tiny, feverishly hot head and the light magic spell you used felt like a warm embrace. As though someone powerful was wrapping their arms around you and the boy and the puppy with endless kindness and soft reassurance.
It was the most beautiful spell you had ever gotten to perform and the moment you were done, the feather turned to dust in your fingers, the puppy opened its eyes. It wagged its tiny little tail like mad and when the boy broke out into tears, it licked the tears away.
"Thank you," he sobbed and you gave the boy's head a few pats, resisting the urge to tear up yourself.
"Of course," you said, pretending like you weren't touched and glad and emotional. There was just so much dust in this stupid shop. That was all.
You gave him back the copper, telling him that he got the spell for free if he promised to take great care of the dog and to bring it to you if something bad happened to it again.
The little boy grinned, so relieved and happy you swore he was the reason sun shone through the window in that moment, before leaving with his puppy who looked perky and awake again.
You puttered around, restocking some things and you set the health tonics up by the counter, hoping that maybe now someone would buy them.
When, a couple of days later, a merchant asked for a spell that turned all his copper to gold, you heavily considered getting 'consequences' embroidered on your clothes as well. But he really wanted the spell so you gave it to him and of course he didn't want to buy a health tonic.
You were sulking on your counter when the door opened and a very fancy young man entered. You resisted the urge to groan like a blacksmith's bellows. A noble, again. Nothing but trouble.
"Good witch," he said with a small bow, the fancy feathers on his fancy hat bouncing perkily. "May I trouble you for a curse?"
You waved grandly at the sign behind you. "You may. Please read the fine print." The very big, very bold fine print.
He did, nodding solemnly. "I hear you offer curses that turn people into monsters?"
He must be a friend of that young lady. Lovely. Now that you thought about it, you hadn't heard anything else about the princess. Was her wedding off the table for good? Surely not, she had to have broken her curse by now.
Or had that noble lady pounced on the far-away prince instead and there would be a wedding announcement once a proper amount of time had passed to avoid rumors from spreading? Maybe the princess would go and marry another prince. Well, it was none of your business.
*.*.*
Would you like to read more? Would you like to check out other, already published short stories of mine? Would you like to support an artist so more stories can be written and published more often? Feel free to head over to my patreon and check it out!
If you'd like to read more of my other stories available here on Tumblr, give my Masterpost a shake! Every story is written with passion and love and I hope you have great time reading!
And lastly, thank you all so much for your support! Be it a patreon membership, leaving a like or reblogging with or without tags (and yes, I do read them all) or sending me messages, it all makes me so happy. It encourages me to keep going and it makes creating and sharing those creations with you all an absolute joy.
Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day, lots of love to you all!
#my writing#preview#witches#found family#no romance#magic#fantasy#short story#I hope you'll like it!#i had a lot of fun writing this one
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how are each of our boys spending valentines day?
ok so here's my thoughts:
rockstar!eddie i'm so fucking divided on if he'd love or hate valentine's day. i could see him hating it at the beginning, like hates the traffic for valentine's day, hates the cliche, but also he can't not do something for it? so he tries to be super creative with it. something not everyone else in fucking california is doing too.
modern!eddie he'd be the opposite. his favorite holiday truly. he loves to spoil you any way he can. usually tries to get a reservation somewhere fancy and upscale, even dresses up. bouquet, chocolates, the works.
cowboy!eddie would go out if you wanted to. take you to some little restaurant that does a valentine's day special with red checkered table cloths and candle light. or you'd stay in. dinner and a movie. he'd definitely get you flowers, a little gift you didn't know about.
older!eddie is probably very similar to this work lol.
bouncer!eddie is also similar to this work.
janitor!eddie definitely sneaks you a little cheesy valentine on your desk, and you sneak one back to him. it started years ago when you first started dating, and you slipped him one that said "you rock, valentine!" and it just blossomed from there. i think he'd take you out somewhere he could barely afford the first few times, then you'd want something a little more casual and intimate, so you'd stay in or go to a movie or a drive in.
mafia!eddie goes so over the fucking top. you're spoiled everyday, but today it's entirely different. multiple bouquets all through the house- one from him, four smaller ones from the dogs. jewelry, clothes, shoes, purses, paintings, furniture- like whatever you wanted. dinner at his usual upscale italian restaurant downtown, he gets you two the private booth in the back, keeps you pressed to his side all night. wines and dines you.
dom!eddie i think would probably want something easy and fun. he's very anti-valentine's day but isn't an asshole. he's not going to go super crazy lovey dovey, but he's going to do something. i could see him bringing you to the hideout for their beer and choclate special (which is foul lol) but it's drunk karaoke and they put up a disco ball for decor and it's fun, just the two of you.
i feel like with hockey!eddie, because it's the middle of his season, if he can do valentine's day, he tries to go over the top but sometimes he's away and can't. but i see him trying to be so creative with it, genuinely thinks of you. you do a pottery class one time, paint mugs for the other. or a couples cooking class, which you both decide you need lol. something different every time, more of an activity.
boxer!eddie is anti-valentine's day. anti leaving his house for it. truthfully, i see him ordering a heart shaped pizza and some wine, spending the night in with you. he'll even sit through a cheesy rom com for you if it means he doesn't have to go out and endure the love sick losers that grate his nerves. a very lowkey guy.
#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#rockstar!eddie munson#cowboy!eddie munson#mafia!eddie munson#modern!eddie munson#older!dilf!eddie munson#janitor!eddie munson#eddie munson au#dom!eddie munson#bouncer!eddie munson#hockey!eddie munson#hockey player!eddie munson#boxer!eddie munson
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Bestie- u didn’t just deliver u served and I’m the greedy gremlin who’s eating this up, that was amazing, he’s so skrunkly I love him 😔Ur gonna kill me here but bestie I need them to meet I can’t 😩
This is the effect of me doing sudokus and crosswords in the ethics lecture... Was listening to Jasmine Thompson's cover of 'Rather Be' while writing this and honestly?? A whole mood
Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 3
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5]
That day felt weirdly long as if hours were stretching out as much as the universe would allow them to. You haven't felt that tired and fed up in quite a while, dreaming about the soft comfort of your own bed during your commute back home.
Home, however, had another surprise in store for you:
"Perfect timing, Eddie," you said to yourself as you tore the envelope off your front door. "Could use a little pick-me-up."
You opened the letter and couldn't help the surprise at the front of the card you were given. For some reason, it said "Invitation" in fancy, glittery writing. Inside, on the left side was another torn-out page from a poetry collection.
Underneath an apple-tree
Sat a maiden and her lover;
And the thoughts within her he
Yearned, in silence, to discover.
Under the piece of a poem were written only two words: "Meet me". Your gaze followed the vague message to the right side of the card where a small map was drawn. It looked like a bird's view of a restaurant or a bar with a question mark drawn over one of the, as you had assumed, tables like the little map was the continuation of the unfinished sentence. On top of the drawing was scribbled an address, a date and an hour. You were supposed to meet him in a week's time.
From that moment on, you could hardly think about anything else and, little did you know, so did he. It was going to be a fateful Wednesday evening.
"That's the place," you whispered to yourself as you checked the GPS on your phone again.
You found yourself standing before a desolate diner that looked like it was taken straight out of Quentin Tarantino's movie. But you had to admit that the Pulp Fiction feel to the locale was charming in some way as if gracefully continuing your dilemma whether you were now the main character of a rom-com or a slash horror film.
"Here goes nothing," you said with a sigh. With each step towards the front door of the diner, your restlessness was only increasing.
The bell near the door chimed cheerfully as you hesitantly entered the building. At first, you couldn't see a soul inside - even the waitress was more of a cryptid as you could only hear her quiet chatter with the cooks coming from the kitchen. They left the door slightly ajar. According to the drawing, the marked table should be the one under the vintage-style graffiti with a pin-up girl holding a tray of apple pie. Your heart stopped for a moment, seeing that the booth was occupied.
Ever since he sat down in that booth, he'd been eyeing the door, waiting for the fateful moment you enter. The muffled laughter of the waitress rung in his ears and Eddie was half-convinced that she was laughing at him. After all, who was he to ever believe that you were actually going to show up? That you would be anything but disgusted with him?
He watched as you checked his little drawing once more. You turned your head towards him and Ed could swear the time actually slowed down if not entirely stopped when your gaze met his. The moment you realized that it was him, a bright smile appeared on your face, making Eddie's palms even sweatier than they already were. He just knew he was going to mess things up - there was no way in Hell that he could impress you. That much was obvious to Eddie.
You were just so... unreal to him. There he was: the loser, the loner, the butt of the joke and there were you, the epitome of grace approaching the table he was sitting at. He couldn't believe his own senses, some anxious beast still gnawing at his thoughts, that you didn't immediately turn around and left once you saw him.
"Hey," you said softly as you sat down across from him.
"H-hi," he nervously stuttered out.
Eddie looked more or less as you expected him to: a quiet, kind of awkward and easy-to-overlook guy who had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Your friends always found it very amusing that you had a thing for underdogs. No matter how strange it might sound to anyone else, you thought there was a certain charm to his awkwardness like an adorable deer caught in headlights.
"You have great taste." You waved the "invitation" card before putting it back into your purse.
"In what?" Eddie asked sheepishly. His mind was fluctuating between blankness and intrusive thoughts, so coherence and reason weren't something he could count on at the moment.
You shrugged. That bright, showstopping smile was still on your face and Eddie felt he wouldn't be able to look away from you even if he wanted to. "Poetry. Flowers," you counted. "Girls."
His chubby cheeks turned crimson red at your words. Your confidence made him even more aware of his incapacitating insecurity. Eddie believed his intrusive thoughts: there was nothing he could delight you with.
"I loved your riddles," you confessed. "You're really good at it."
A flutter of his heart and a ray of lovesick hope.
#the batman#the batman 2022#riddler x reader#riddler x you#dano riddler x reader#dano riddler x you#the riddler x you#the riddler x reader#edward nygma#edward nashton#the batman fanfiction#the batman imagine#the batman fanfic#riddler fanfiction#riddler fanfic#riddler imagine#the riddler fanfiction#the riddler imagine#the riddler fanfic#dano!riddler#dano riddler#the riddler#riddler#dano!riddler imagine#dano!riddler fanfiction#dano!riddler x you#dano!riddler x reader#paul dano riddler#danonation#edward nashton x you
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It was the shirt.
It was the goddamn shirt that started it all.
Bucky had been fine. He had a job. A bunch of lousy, sweet, well-meaning friends and even a decent social life.
There would be a girl or two. Sometimes a man. Other times...
Well he had a cat and a large TV. And every second week, his therapy appointment.
He had an on and off roommate: Tony Stark, millionaire Howard Stark's eccentric spawn. He crashed in whenever he didn't want to go home and Bucky would make a day out of it. He'd cook healthy meals and fruity cocktails. They'd spend the day binge watching whatever caught Tony's fancy. And he would never forgive the little devil for getting him hooked to a cheap-ass monster slasher.
Life was good.
It was easy.
So color him surprised when Steve Rogers decided to throw himself a bachelor's party at Bucky's place. Because the little punk was the first one of their loser gang to be getting married.
"Why my place?"
"Because you're my best friend, Bucky," Steve told him a little too earnestly. Behind him Wilson was wearing a shit eating grin and Nat her devil smile. It set off all the alarm bells in his head so he picked up a fork and stabbed it through Steve's favorite piece of chicken.
"And also you're the only one with a big enough kitchen."
So that was it.
This whole thing with the shirt?—he blamed it all on Steve Rogers and his marriage... Thing.
The party: their loser gang huddled around with booze and enough food to feed a nation, was in full swing and somehow Brock Rumlow was there too.
It was annoying enough when they were just exes. Now he was also a bitchy neighbour and Steve had invited him in after he invited himself. Just. To. Be. Polite.
Except he was also touching Tony with his grimy hands, asking for a tip or two about the best kind of bartending trick.
Tony kept up with it, showing off whatever he'd learned from his part time. If only because he was a sucker for Steve's big cow eyes and didn't want to ruin the party.
But he was clearly uncomfortable.
And that was before Rumlow accidentally spilled vodka all over him.
Bucky, being the good host he was, had distracted Rumlow with Nat (something that would come to haunt him in the future) and then ushered Tony to the bathroom.
He left him alone to stop Wilson from slam dunking Rumlow out of the window and he regretted it a moment later, when Tony emerged wearing the shirt.
That one shirt Bucky usually—if not always, slept in.
It sat on Tony too big. Big enough that he had to roll up the sleeves. Big enough that the collar was sliding off his neck. Big enough that he had to tie it around his waist.
Bucky had made a noise. Something akin to a cat in heat and Tony...
That little shit had given him a sweet, slow smile before pulling down the waistline of his shorts to reveal a hint of lace.
Okay...
So maybe it wasn't just the shirt that started it all.
#wanted to write something that kind of read like a sitcom#tony stark being a little shit#deb writes in between#bucky barnes#tony stark#winteriron#starbucks#buckytony#fic#drabble#ish
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Read the epilogue for Keith in the current story event and I'm just. Slowly filing away all the things we're learning about mean!Keith, especially as we get a clearer view of his personality and thoughts... sorry for my rambling thoughts
Putting this under a cut for major spoilers, it's regarding Keith in the Forever With My Beast story event but also other events/general spoilers
I love being able to see things from mean!Keith's POV, it's very interesting to see how he thinks of MC and how he thinks he comes off towards nice!Keith vs how he actually is.
Mean!Keith considers nice!Keith a loser, but everything he does points to him caring about and being protective of him. MC points this out to him, although he denies it of course. But when things are dangerous and there's a possible threat, mean!Keith jumps into action in a split second. Even when there's not physical threats, he's still very wary of others, including MC, until he can glean more information and make sure it's safe. And I think it extends beyond basic "ensuring our mutual body is safe" levels.
Even though he rags on nice!Keith, he still goes out of his way to make things a little easier for him, too. In a couple other events, he clearly worries about nice!Keith being stressed that mean!Keith was fronting and stressing about people being aware of the other personality. He even tells MC to not let the other Keith know, at one time. In another instance, when the two get "trapped" in a room together, he tells MC to "thank him again in the morning" (when he'll have switched out with nice!Keith) to make things a little easier.
He knows how to cook very fancy things, while nice!Keith struggles and can make haphazard comfort food at best. He's not that into sweets, and I think mentioned he doesn't care for reading (?? Or at least doesnt like it nearly as much as nice!Keith).
And although he's a tease to MC a lot because he enjoys her reactions, he's not as sadistic about it compared to others. He calls her a toy, but a lot of the way he acts makes me think of encountering a wild animal who is untrusting of others lmao. Most of the time he's trying to see if she has ulterior motives, but once he understands that's not the case, he's honestly kind of sweet. (He even tries to cheer MC up by giving her sweets in the "Be My Master" collection event, not that he admits thats his intention).
He can be jealous, wanting MC to prefer him/think of him specifically. But he is appreciative of when MC thinks about both sides. And he's also worried about disappearing one day, so he doesn't usually hope for future things or plan for the future.
Anyway the more i learn about him, the more I'm obsessed as if I wasn't already lol. I'm counting down the days until his route release cause he is so intriguing to me, especially as we have so little information on Jade compared to the other countries and I can't wait to see all the ups and downs of his route
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GIMME SUGAR!
۫ ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ PAIRING \ C!Grian x GN!Reader, C!Xisumavoid x GN!Reader
۫ ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ SYNOPSIS \ How a few of our favorite block men would make your Valentine’s Day special.
۫ ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ WARNINGS \ N/A
۫ ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ A/N \ I know, I know- I’ve been MIA for a while. However! I have cooked up something short, sweet, and extra fluffy for Valentine’s day, so I hope you all enjoy this rare treat! (I may or may not be dying, but it’s fine :])
GRIAN
Grian doesn’t do anything in half measures, and Valentine’s Day is no exception.
Dresses up so fancy for you.
I’m talking button-up shirt with the cashmere vest, heart-shaped glasses, and the shiniest accessories a pesky bird can get his hands on.
First thing in the morning, he’s knocking on your door- or, if that doesn’t work, your bedroom window- with a basket full of your favorite treats and his very biggest smile :)
It doesn’t matter if you’re a morning person or not, he is determined to spend as much time with you as physically possible; what else would he be doing? Finishing his base, like a loser?
Think: Grian bundling you tight to his chest as he takes you on a sunset flight, weaving through the sky just to laugh at you when you shriek, and feel his heart beat harder in his chest when you smile at him in that half-exasperated half-fond way.
Think: Grian doing anything to earn a smile, from reciting the cheesiest pick-up lines he can think of to blasting your favorite music and singing along with you.
Think: Grian dropping you off at your base, only for you to pull him into a long, slow kiss. When the two of you part, he’s bright red and grinning like an idiot.
He’s your idiot, though, and don’t you forget it.
XISUMAVOID
As the server admin, Xisuma is very busy, but he always makes time for you.
He picks you up from your latest project at dusk, his armor polished and elytra gleaming in the waking starlight; every inch a knight straight from the pages of a fairy-tale.
Xisuma greets you like one, too, pressing a featherlight kiss to your palm before he sweeps you away with a flicker of code.
Valentine’s Day is a moment where everything pauses, for the both of you. There are no obligations, no worries, nothing beyond the two of you.
Together.
Think: Xisuma tangling his legs with yours under the dinner table, attentive even though you’ve been talking for thirty minutes, and the food he’d prepared for you long gone.
Think: Xisuma allowing you to play with his hair as you make your way through a rom-com marathon, dryly critiquing the plots and characters until you’re a giggly mess.
Think: Xisuma watching you slowly fall asleep in his arms, still as a statue even though his legs have fallen asleep and you’re drooling a little bit onto his shirt.
He’ll take his time, if it’s for you.
#a meal for the children#hermitcraft x reader#hermitcraft x y/n#hermitcraft x you#mcyt x reader#mcyt x you#mcyt x y/n#grian x reader#grian x you#grian x y/n#c!grian#xisumavoid x reader#xisumavoid x you#xisumavoid x y/n#c!xisumavoid
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Could I request Azul, Ace and Scarabia duo with an s/o who isn't academically smart but is skilled in other things that are (sometimes) pretty random like cooking, wine-testing, and fencing?
Hi, thank you for the ask!
Azul, Ace, Jamil, Kalim with an s/o who is skilled in something random
Azul
Honestly for him, I feel like he would like anyone who has a passion for something or is skilled in one or more tasks. He doesn't care if it isn't academics, as long as they like to challenge themselves in a certain field
If it's something like cooking, he'll honestly be happy and perhaps he asked you about working at his lounge when he first met you (haha). However, he also wants to learn how to cook himself, mainly because it requires more skills than just knowing how to read a recipe. It's a fun challenge!
Overall I feel like he wouldn't mind if you aren't academically smart as long as you try your best in it and/or if you have other passions you would rather focus on. He would fully support you too
Ace
You two ditch class so often you wonder why Crowley hasn't called you two out on it yet haha
I feel like he might like you for not being super big into academics since he would rather have dates somewhere other than a library. However, if you still happen to like books, he might try challenging himself to get into them
If you two end up with similar hobbies like basketball, I think it would be really nice. If you for example are really skilled at it, he will definitely put some friendly competitions here and there in your relationship. Loser has to buy lunch for you two the next day for example
Jamil
He would like someone who is sort of a stereotypical nerd from time to time, but he also appreciates how you focus your attention on something to challenge yourself and get better at that skill. It's really nice to just watch you sometimes too
If you happen to be really skilled at dancing or cooking, you two definitely have a lot of things in common. Jamil and you might make a fancy dinner for you two as a "stay at home" date in the dorms (that would honestly be so wholesome omg). If there are things he can learn from you too, he would love for you to teach him
Overall he has a similar attitude to Azul except he might be a bit more tsundere about it. He won't be able to directly tell you he thinks what you do is really cool, but with how he seems intrigued and interested in what you are skilled in you should be able to tell
Kalim
He really doesn't care if you aren't academically skilled since he believes everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, so it doesn't matter as long as you are happy with yourself
He likes learning about you and your hobbies, which includes the skills that you have. Kalim's a very curious person, so he might ask you a ton of questions from time to time about your skill. If it's something really new to him like fencing, he might want to try it out and have you teach him too
Probably the most positive about your different interests and skills aside from Ace. He really likes you for who you are and if that means he can learn something new from you he will gladly drop everything and learn
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst imagines#anon ask#twst scenarios#twst headcanons#twst x reader#twst azul#twst azul x reader#twst ace x reader#twst ace#twst jamil#twst jamil x reader#twst kalim#twst kalim x reader
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