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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Two

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I’m making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast woke to the scent of cooking meat. It made her stomach rumble and mouth salivate but also confused her. There had been no one in her life for many years. There should be no one to cook. Her eyes snapped open, prepared to fight whoever had found her.

Then her eyes fell on Din playing with Grogu, and it all came flooding back. He spoke softly through the modulator, encouraging the boy to float the small silver ball from Din's hand to Grogu's.

When the child succeeded, Din whispered a pleased, "Dank farrik!"

Baast almost purred, watching him with the child. He made an excellent father, and she was of an age to desire a mate, a home, a pride. But a warrior like him deserved someone better than a broken Zentari. It mattered not that her soul cried out whenever he touched her without the barrier of his gloves.

He'd stripped them off yesterday, and she could smell him—the spicy scent of masculine soap blending seamlessly with the musk of a man warm in his beskar. But the underlying scent of Din Djarin was that of the sandy dunes of her homeworld. He smelled of warm winds and dusky plains, of tall grasses whipped by fragrant breezes.

He smelled like home.

The stars were cruel indeed to drop her in the lap of the one made for her.

She watched them for a time as he encouraged Grogu. Their bond was strong, too strong if the Jedi were to be believed. Such attachments bred fear for the one they loved, and fear lent itself to the Darkside.

The idea of Grogu's pure soul becoming tainted made her ache, and though she said she couldn't help them, Baast knew she must. Grogu deserved a chance to grow up on the side of good.

She sat up, drawing Din's notice, the man turning toward her across the fire.

"Morning."

Baast wondered at the voice behind the modulator. Would it be deeper? More robust? Would it be even more pleasing than this one that stroked fingers of violent want through her blood?

"Good morning," she murmured, voice husky still with sleep.

Before she could ask, the canteen he carried on his belt was in his hand. "Drink?"

She nodded, catching it easily when he tossed it to her. "Thank you. I'm not used to morning conversations anymore. Or any conversations in some years."

"You've done well, evading capture until now. Now, the Tribe will help."

"The Tribe," she whispered. "I've been alone for so long." The idea of being part of something was both appealing and terrifying. "I look forward to meeting your Alor."

"She will be glad to meet you. They all will. Everyone will hope-" He cut himself off, busying himself with the lizard cooking over the fire.

"Mando, they should not hope for what I do not think I can give," she sighed, lifting Grogu to her lap when he shuffled over.

"You don't know for sure you can't bond, Baast. Give it time."

Time was all she had. Life was a long thing for a Zentari alone in the universe.

Small green hands gently touched her cheeks, causing her to look down at Grogu. He cooed a sweet noise as she gazed into big, dark eyes. They were expressive in their own right, and she felt herself falling, diving once more into his mind.

The images came fast and furious. Din running, fighting, killing, but almost always alone.

Baast closed her eyes as pain washed through her for the Mandalorian. "I cannot," she whispered to the child. "It would not be fair."

Grogu frowned at her before squealing loudly. More images filled her mind, these of a man reckless with his safety, one who had little to nothing to live for.

She gasped and wrenched her face away from his hands, but it didn't stop the flow of ridiculousness. Kriff! The man had a death wish!

When Grogu disappeared from her lap, only then did he release her from his grasp.

Baast sent the green menace a glare. "That was entirely rude."

He smiled and blew a raspberry.

"I'm sorry," Din murmured, holding the child away like Grogu was a danger.

She held up her hand, continuing to glare. "Do not apologize for something he did. It sets a poor president. Invading my mind is bad manners, little one. Disregarding another's desires is a step down a dark path. This will not be allowed."

"Dark path?" Din asked.

"The Jedi and the Sith. One force believes in peace and passivity. The other wants power and are often corrupted by that passionate desire, both use the Force. He has the potential to be extremely powerful, but with that power comes responsibility. It is a razor's edge to walk, one I am not confident I have the skill to help him navigate."

Din straightened, but his shoulders lowered, relaxing his posture. "You'll help him? I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm running out of options."

"Yes," she sighed. "I know of one who may be able to help him, but I do not know if he will come at my call. Where is your covert?" He said nothing, and Baast tilted her head in apology. "That was an improper question. Forgive me."

"Always," he murmured.

She wondered if that would still be true should he learn what Grogu already suspected. "If I am to make contact, it must be from Tatooine."

"Why Tatooine?"

"Because it is the planet we agreed upon." She turned toward the fire and the spit of roasting meat before looking up at Din. "Have you eaten?"

The movement was subtle, a single negative action.

Baast hummed and reached for the cloth that tied her pants' to her calf and began to unwrap it.

"What are you doing?"

She ignored him and continued until her pant leg fluttered free. The cloth was only a couple inches wide, but it was long and thick enough to make an adequate blindfold.

She lifted it to her eyes, only for his hand to shoot out and grab her wrist. It felt odd for him to touch her with the slightly cracked but soft leather of a glove now that she knew the feel of his skin.

"You don't need to do that."

Baast blinked slowly, gaze drifting to his hand before returning to the visor where his eyes would be. "It is not a need but a want. I will do this, Din Djarin, so that you may eat freely with the child and I. This is the Way."

"It is unnecessary."

She unfolded, rising gracefully to stand before him, wrist yet held in his grasp. "When last did you eat?"

He said nothing.

She tilted her head and held out the cloth. "I have not shared a meal with another in many years. I would share this meal with you and Grogu. Allow me to honour your Creed."

There was no sound, no movement beyond what Grogu contributed to the conversation in small burbles of noise. The Mandalorian was still and silent, a hunter in all things.

Baast waited, quiet, calm. After so many years in a cell, the forest gave her peace, but those years had taught her patience. She could wait for eternity for his decision. She had the time, after all.

What went on behind the helmet, she couldn't know, but eventually, he set Grogu down, released her wrist, and took the blindfold. "Turn around."

She did so, pushing her hair back to uncover her ears. "If possible, try not to cover them. The tips are sensitive, and the fabric will feel abrasive."

The cloth came down over her eyes, hooked behind her ears, and crossed at the back of her head.

"Again," she murmured. "I can still see."

Twice more, the fabric circled before he tied a knot.

Her senses heightened, hearing, smell, and the sixth sense that had been with her all her life. The Force resonated in every living thing, glowing and pulsing, connecting all of them. She could see it like an orange glow, thin lines and thick, veining out around them.

"Good?"

"Yes." The heat of the fire warmed her skin, but before she could move, Din took her hand and elbow.

"Kneel. I'll get you some food."

Baast followed his direction, aware of the bright light that was Grogu coming to her side. He placed his hand on hers, flooding Baast with a gentle apology. She turned her hand over to hold his little claws.

A quiet hiss filled her ears, causing her to turn toward Din. The beskar blocked some of his energy, the Force somehow muted by it. Then he lifted off his helmet.

It took every effort to restrain herself from gasping. He glowed white, the shining brightness of a sun. Shock left her mute as she tracked the supernova that was this Mandalorian as he set down his helmet and removed the spit from the fire. He pulled off a piece of meat, maybe a leg, she couldn't quite tell, and brought it to her.

"Here." The deep baritone was like the softest of silk to her senses.

Baast held out her hands for the meat. His bare fingers grazed her palm as the hot meal hit her flesh, and grease trickled through her fingers.

"Thank you," she managed to force from a throat gone tight with emotion.

"It's hot. Be careful."

She stuffed down the aching need to reach out and feel the lips that produced such a voice and smiled crookedly instead. "Too long have you travelled with only Grogu for company."

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

Another wave of needy desire hit her, but Baast fought it off. She would not doom him to a half-life with an unfinished bond.

She ate and made sure he ate once Grogu was fed, asking questions about the child and how they came to be together simply to keep him talking. His voice was a balm to a soul grown used to silence.

When they finally finished their meal, she waited for him to return his helmet and come to release the blindfold. His hands were deft, skilled, and careful not to pull her hair.

Baast blinked to adjust to the quickly blooming daylight, then retied her pant leg as Din smothered the fire. She reached for Grogu and stood, ready to leave.

"I can carry him."

She tilted her head, already missing the gentle ebb and flow of the Force from him, now encased in all that beskar. "Do you object to me carrying him because you think I am weak or out of principle because he is your foundling?"

"Uh…"

She arched a brow. "Do not underestimate me, Mando. I live because I am jatnese be te jatnese. The best of the best."

"I know what it means," he huffed.

"Then stop being ori'buyce, kih'kovid," she smirked. "I will care for the child as you have cared for me."

"Atin," he muttered.

She didn't protest because, yes, she was stubborn.

"Fine." She could almost hear a pout in his modulated voice as he turned and marched out of their temporary camp. "And I'm not all helmet," he grumbled, likely thinking she couldn't hear him.

Baast smirked and gave Grogu a wink. "Come along, ad'ika. We weak ones best keep up with the big strong Mandalorian," she teased.

"I will leave you behind."

She grinned at his back. "No, you will not."

***

By the time they reached the Razor Crest, he was sweating in his beskar again, but with the luxury of the fresher within sight, Din didn't let it bother him.

He disarmed the ground defences and lowered the hatch, heading inside to get them underway. He wanted off the planet before anyone else thought to come looking for Baast'mal.

Hopefully, the Alor would know who to bribe to falsify a new chain code for her. Either that, or there would be an all-out war to eliminate the threat and bounty on her head. Or, she would spend the rest of her life hunted by the Empire.

He hated that thought. Baast was not a creature who should spend her life hiding. She should be allowed out into the light, a creature of hope and beauty.

Though he hadn't seen the true colour of her eyes, the rest of her was so mesh'la, when he'd removed his helmet, it had momentarily taken his breath. And without the helmet, her scent had filled his nose like something he'd loved and long forgotten. It was warm, soft, and decadent, all things a Mandalorian put off when he put on the beskar.

It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

She closed the ramp and followed him to the ladder, climbing up with Grogu to slip into the seat back and to his right.

"Once we've left the atmosphere, you're welcome to the fresher, food, whatever you need," he offered, getting them airborne.

"Do I smell?"

He froze. "That wasn't what-"

Her laugher, that throaty purr, cut him off. "It's fine, Mando. An actual fresher after years of lakes and waterfalls will be pleasant."

"Hm. I have to make a stop on Nevarro, then another before we go to Tatooine. Is there anything you need?"

"Clothing. A cloak. And a weapon."

They cleared the planet, and he made the jump into hyperspace before turning around. "What kind?"

"Short sabres or staff will do."

He watched her pet Grogu's ears, gently using those long claws in such a fashion the kid was almost comatose in bliss. She sat with one foot propped on the seat, comfortably leaning on the armrest. He wondered if her skin would begin to lose its sun-kissed nature now that she was off-world.

"How did you learn to fight?" he asked, forcing himself not to think about her skin and how soft it was.

"Mandalorians are not the only warrior race. Zentari are taught from birth; the rest I learned from the idiots who held me captive. They sought to make me a weapon or a slave, with that came training, but Zentari are not so easily coerced, nor do we forget the slaughter of thousands. I am no weak-minded individual to be controlled by some Sith," she spat.

"Sith?" He knew next to nothing about Force-wielders and felt the lack of knowledge acutely.

"They oppose all things the Jedi stand for, desiring power over peace or balance. They corrupt what they touch.."

"And how does a Zentari hold out against someone so powerful?" He didn't wish to insult her, but surely a child against a master Sith couldn't win.

She sighed and looked away, watching the lights of hyperspace. "Zentari are neither good nor evil. We are Force neutral. The blood bonds distinguish much of our future. To avoid creating bonds with those that would bring harm was why Zentarus was so well hidden. But someone betrayed us. They used to brag about it, the Imps. How one who we trusted gave us up to the Empire."

"If you are Force neutral, why allow Mandalorians to know of Zentarus? Why let us come seeking mates?"

She shot those vibrant eyes back in his direction. "Because the Way was honourable once. Perhaps, at some point, Mandalore was led astray by their leader, but that was not our doing. Those that came to us knew the Way. They humbled themselves before us, and if they were denied, they left knowing such was not their destiny. Those who came knowing not the Way… did not leave Zentarus alive."

"Then I am glad I knew the Way," he murmured, wondering who would have won between the two of them had she not revealed herself.

"As am I," she nodded, looking as regal as the Sand Panther she claimed in her blood.

"Were the Jedi not part of your Way?"

She scowled. "The Jedi saw us as a threat. Naturally born Force users who required little training to do much of what they could, who lived for generations, and who were neither good nor evil. They feared what would happen if we were corrupted. An attempt was made to wipe us out. It failed, and we Zentari veiled Zentarus from those who knew not where to look."

"And that's why you didn't want to help us," he sighed, realizing the untenable position he'd put her in.

She stood, placing the sleeping Grogu down on her seat before taking the step she needed to stand between his spread knees. Her hands lifted to land lightly on the sides of his helmet, gliding over the metal. "It is no longer a want but a need. I will not watch Grogu fall to the side of the Sith because of my fear of the Jedi. He must be trained."

She leaned down and rested her forehead against his helmet as long lashes veiled her eyes. "This is the Way."

Without his permission, Din's hands found her hips and drew her incrementally closer. "I will protect you, Baast."

"We will protect each other."

He hummed his agreement and wondered at the low ripple of sound vibrating through his chest.

Next chapter

#Star-Crossed #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc #star-crossed:bound by blood

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villainess-noble-girl · 3 years

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«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Title: Second-Year Valentine's Day

Author: meiberry

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12852677/1/Second-Year-Valentine-s-Day

Fandom: Kenkyo Kenjitsu

Pairing: EnjouXReika

Photo: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/67148847

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"No. I'm not going to take it. It's going to make me sleepy. Plus it tastes like soap."

The muffled voice of Yukino came from beneath the covers. The IV drip tube poked out from the ball of sheets in the hospital bed.

Shuusuke sighed at his little brother's stubborn actions. Good thing he came prepared for this. "Yukino. Kisshouin-san wrote you a letter."

The ball of sheets shifted, and Yukino's head popped out from beneath the covers, his doe peering up at Enjou in surprise. "...Reika-oneesama?"

Shuusuke held up a small pink envelope with "Yukino-kun" written in neat handwriting in the center. Yukino reached for it when Shuusuke swept it back out of reach with a gentle smile.

"..." Sullenly, Yukino obediently drank the medicine. Watching as he finished it, Shuusuke patted his head and handed him a glass of water with a piece of candy to take care of the medicine's bitter aftertaste. Yukino popped the candy in his mouth with one hand and eagerly held out the other, looking up at Shuusuke expectantly. Shuusuke handed him the letter and watched as his little brother opened it earnestly.

In the beginning, Shuusuke was pretty surprised to see him get along so well with an older girl. Usually, Yukino was not so nice. He was a really smart kid for his young age, and many older girls had been trapped by his soft, harmless facade only to be humiliated and insulted beyond repair. But recently, Shuusuke found that with Kisshouin, Yukino seemed to genuinely act like his appearance.

Shuusuke could see why. Kisshouin clearly didn't have any ulterior motives when speaking to Yukino. Older girls usually saw Yukino as a means to an end. If they weren't patronizing then they were obsequious, obviously trying to use the younger brother to get to the older one. But when it came to Kisshouin… if anything, it was as if her treatment of the two brothers was reversed. In the ten years of knowing her, the very first time that Kisshouin started a one-on-one conversation with Shuusuke that lasted longer than one minute happened to be because Yukino. It was a dreadfully humbling experience. Yukino has sure put up with a lot these past few years.

In any case, no matter how devilish he was to other people, in the end, Yukino really was still a little boy, and Shuusuke was simply grateful that he was able to be just a normal, cute kid with someone, even if it was a girl who clearly didn't put Shuusuke in her eyes.

He watched peacefully as his little brother's eyes happily flew across the letter.

"Kisshouin-san really cares about Yukino."

Yukino shot a glance over at him, "What? Is oniisama jealous?" And then he continued reading his letter.

"And don't think that I don't realize you told her to write this to make me obediently stay in the hospital."

Shuusuke smiled wryly. When he could tell Yukino was finished reading, he continued, "Well, Yukino seems to really like Kisshouin-san. I thought maybe you would listen if she asked you personally."

Yukino smiled, happy from finishing Kisshouin's letter. "Yeah, I do like her. Reika-oneesama is really nice and she's not just pretending. Do you want to read it, oniisama? I'll let you read it, since you asked her to write this for me. I'm going to the bathroom."

Yukino handed the letter to Shuusuke as he climbed out of bed and grabbed at his drip stand to roll it into the bathroom in the room.

Shuusuke blinked at the letter in his hands. Although he didn't ask to read it, he was honestly pretty curious. What did she say to Yukino to cheer him up, anyways?

The letter was not very long, and it fit neatly on the cute stationary decorated with little birds and vines.

Yukino-kun,

Enjou-sama told me that you are admitted to the hospital. I am worried for your health. Your family must be even more worried than me. I hope you take care of your body because many people care about you very much, and we want for you to quickly become well again. With that said, I hope you listen to the doctor so that you can leave the hospital soon. I know that sometimes it is really hard to do something you don't like. But experts have their reasons for their advice.

Recently I have been learning to make desserts from a friend. To be honest, my dessert-making skill is much farther behind my cooking. I think I know what to do when I try to be creative and individual with my own ideas, but actually, my friend tells me that the greatest mistake in baking is not following from the recipe. This is completely different from cooking, where not following the recipe is not that big of a deal. When I listened to my friend, I made a dessert more delicious than anything I'd ever made in my life! I realized at that moment, ah, so that is the difference between a normal person and an expert. With that said, I hope you understand the importance of listening to experts such as your doctor.

When you come back, you'll be able to see your other friends and me in the Petite Pivoine salon again.

Wishing you a quick recovery,

Kisshouin Reika

By the time Yukino returned from the bathroom, Shuusuke had already finished reading the letter and had set it on the tray over the foot of Yukino's bed.

"So, what did you think of Kisshouin-san's letter? Are you going to listen to her when she asks to you listen to to doctor's advice?"

"I guess." Yukino sat at the foot of the bed and picked up the letter again, folding it and carefully putting it back in its envelope before he flopped back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. "The way she asks me to listen to the doctor is just less irritating than when you ask me to listen to the doctor."

Shuusuke helped put the covers over Yukino.

"I wonder why Reika-oneesama is learning to make desserts." Yukino looked at Shuusuke, his eyes widening. "Valentine's Day is coming up, isn't it? I wonder what Reika-oneesama is making…"

"Hmm. Who knows."

"I wonder if she's learning to bake something for the person she likes..."

"Hmm. Who knows."

Yukino's eyes widened like big dark marbles as he looked at Shuusuke.

"You're curious, too, aren't you oniisama? Ne, ne, what kinds of sweets has oniisama received from Reika-oneesama on Valentine's day?"

"Actually, I've never received anything from Kisshouin-san on Valentine's Day."

"Ehhhhh!"

Shuusuke thought about how in the ten years since he's known Kisshouin Reika, she has never given anyone Valentine's chocolates. Year after year, the whole school secretly held its breath in wonder at who the Goddess Kali of Suiran would afflict with her attentions. And year after year the answer was an anti-climatic… nobody.

Kisshouin Reika never gave anybody at Suiran chocolates for Valentine's day. Him and Masaya were not excluded.

Ah, wait, that's not right. Last year she gave courtesy chocolates to the student council president. In fact, Shuusuke was the one who pointed this out to Masaya... Even though she had done it in secret, for Kisshouin Reika to give chocolates to a guy at Suiran was no small matter and in the end the word leaked anyways. Because she had done it pretty secretively, there were no massive rumours, but the thing about secrets was that they always spread. Shuusuke heard about it from the more low-key sources.

Back then, he had remembered how she seemed to have had a crush on the same student council president back in middle school, but nothing had happened even after all these years. For nothing to have happened all this time, what other conclusion was it other than unrequited love? He hinted at this story of camaraderie to Masaya in hopes of inspiring him to move on with his life. Unrequited love was not the end of the world. Just look at Kisshouin-san.

Who knew that the whole thing would have worked out so beautifully at graduation. Tomoe Senju actually had a girlfriend! And he called Kisshouin Reika a sister in front of everybody. Masaya was so moved by Kisshouin's composure and courage. Shuusuke felt like he was watching Masaya watch a romance movie. Out of all the times that he's taken advantage of Kisshouin, Shuusuke felt most proud about the way that one turned out. Witnessing the way Kisshouin "handled" the student council president's "public rejection" totally inspired Masaya and brought him back from depression. He completely recovered from Yurie's rejection after that.

Yukino's marble eyes seemed to glitter in wonder as he looked up at the handsome young man sitting beside the bed.

"Wow, even though every year it seems like you get chocolates from every single girl we know, there is actually one girl who has never given you any chocolates… not even once! Hehhh..."

Yukino did not look or sound sympathetic at all with the the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

"That reminds me... when we first met and I introduced myself, Reika-oneesama made a 'geh!' face when she heard my name, like she was really saddened to hear that Oniisama was my oniisama... I thought that maybe she hated you!"

"Hmm. I sure hope Kisshouin-san doesn't hate me. But if she does hate me, then that's unfortunate."

"No, no. I don't think Reika-oneesama hates you, Oniisama! She probably doesn't even think about you at all."

"..." Shuusuke's expression remained serene as he stayed silent.

Yukino looked at his face and suddenly giggled. Shuusuke joined in with a few chuckles. For a short moment, they laughed together.

"Ahahaha…"

"Hahaha…"

"..."

Yukino turned over in bed. "Don't worry, oniisama. Maybe one day Reika-oneesama will also remember to give you chocolates, too."

"..."

"Oh yeah, oniisama, could you find me something to write with? I want to write Reika-oneesama a reply."

"...Alright. I'll go find you some paper."

The next morning, Shuusuke thanked Kisshouin for her letter to Yukino. She looked really happy that it helped. Yeah, it was really useful. She was pretty humble.

"Yukino said that it was fun to read about making sweets."

"I could only think of unimportant things to say… well..."

Hm, there it was. Shuusuke could always hear the instant whenever it sounded like Kisshouin was trying to wrap up a conversation and escape. Usually, he'd just let her go. But for some reason, he didn't feel like it this time. The words Yukino said yesterday skipped around his mind, reviving an old and annoying itch.

"So Kisshouin-san is making sweets. Could it be that on Valentine's day..."

"Umm…" He watched as Kisshouin's eyes lowered, her cheeks blushing very lightly. He could imagine her cheeks must have been warm to the touch now. "Yes..."

"Hn."

It'd be a lie to say that he never expected any chocolates from Kisshouin Reika. It wasn't to say that he wanted her chocolates or anything like that. In fact, the idea of actually eating Kisshouin Reika's handmade sweets seemed like something that belonged to the realms of extreme adventures and chemically dangerous thrill-seeking. Although, whether or not Reika's chocolates are edible, Shuusuke wouldn't want to eat them anyways, as he didn't have a sweet tooth, but...

...He still expected to get them.

It was about logic. If a girl knew Enjou Shuusuke, then she would give him chocolates on Valentine's day. (The same applied to Kaburagi Masaya.) Three of five of chocolates would be honmei. That was the rule. He knew it was a very unique and extraordinary rule. Certainly not every boy in the world had the ridiculous privilege of receiving a mountain of chocolates and sweets from all the girls he knew. But, that was his experience.

In accordance with his life experience, it was natural to expect chocolates from a girl he knew when he's always received chocolates from every girl he knew. With no exceptions.

Except this one.

#villainess noble girl #fanfic #light novel #kenkyo kenjitsu #EnjouXReika #Enjou Shuusuke #Kisshouin Reika #Japanese noble girl #isekai

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rayne-storm · 3 years

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AUgust 14 - Chefs

Title: WENN LIEBE IN DIR IST… UND GUTES ESSEN

Fandom: Tanz Der Vampyr

Alfred/Herbert, Graf/Sarah

This is my favourite musical. Straight up. You cannot get better than this. Maybe "Master and Margarita" but I haven't found a good bootleg of it.

I really hope you guys like this one!!!

Oh, there they were again. That damned truck with it's bombastic orchestral music, the catchy paintings, and the obnoxious sign boy. Alfred knew they were doing this on purpose, parking there because they knew how much it pissed off the staff of his own restaurant. Sure, it wasn't really "his" restaurant. It really belonged to Abronsius, the eclectic perfectionist who taught him everything.

And there the sign boy went, platinum hair flowing ever so delicately on the wind. He chatted up anyone that came by, and of course the mesh shirt mixed with the weird cape thing only made the spectacle that much more intriguing.

Alfred must have been glaring for too long because the blond eventually turned and winked straight at him through the window.

Damnit!

His face must have turned red because Abronsius asked him what was wrong, and he quickly made up some excuse about the heat before going back into the kitchen.

"You know," Sarah - the newest pastry chef - whispered, "their food's really good, and the sign dancer guy is single~" she teased.

Alfred felt his face pucker like he'd eaten a lemon.

Yes, the man was attractive, but from what Abronsius had said, they were all bad sorts there. But… well… whatever. Whatever. He had soups to make.

---

Three nights later. They were back. He had the evening off. Fuck. He was pissed. Abronsius had denied him a raise again. He shouldn't have been surprised, but if always stung when he was educated on exactly why he wasn't worth an extra two dollars an hour.

He knew he was young, sure, but he wasn't stupid or incompetent, he didn't have wrong priorities. He wasn't any of the things that stodgy old bastard said. And all he had wanted was two (2) more dollars. It wouldn't have even made him the highest paid (even discounting the profits he knew the old asshole was keeping).

So he wanted to make the man upset. As the sounds of Tchaikovsky drifted towards him, he couldn't help smirking. He hoped Abronsius was watching. Hoped Abronsius saw him ordering off the competition's menu, and he fully planned on eating right outside the restaurant, in full view from the large glass windows.

"Well hello there, finally come to see what all the fuss is about?"

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but there he was: the sign guy. Blond haired, pale skinned, and just, umf, fucking beautiful.

Alfred felt his heart rate increase just from the sheer proximity.

"I-I-I, uhm, yeah. Uh, m-mostly, well, I, uh, wanted to p-piss off my boss."

Real smooth, dipshit!

Sarah was right. He was hopeless.

The guy grinned and, of all things, kissed his hand.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I thought I might have to venture into that tacky place to properly say hello."

Alfred honestly didn't disagree. The restaurant was called Knoblauch, which just meant "garlic" and the interior was kind of gaudy. Not that he would have ever dared say so.

"I, uh- wait. You wanted to see me?"

"Every day since I first spotted your adorable pout, yes."

It was effortless the way this guy flirted and Alfred was just getting more and more shy.

"I'm… um… that's sweet. Thanks."

"So did Sarah get you to take a look? She's been very chatty about you, you know."

Ah fuck.

"I, uh, I mean, maybe I guess, but, uh-"

"She says you're a single hopeless romantic, and I really hope she's right," the man interrupted, and whoops, there went Alfred's ability to speak anything but flustered gibberish entirely.

The man leaned down and grinned.

"My name's Herbert von Krolock. What's yours?"

Oh, Alfred knew this man knew, but he couldn't help answering anyway, stuttering it out.

Herbert grinned. "You're so cute! Do you wanna have dinner with me? Now?"

"U-u-uh, um, I mean, uh, I…. Yes…?"

Herbert took his hands (both of them, like this was some kinda romcom), and led him over to the side of the food truck, music playing louder there, and the magnificent frescoes truly visible. They were gothic scenes, dark balls. Alfred couldn't help liking them, for whatever reason.

Then another beautiful man appeared, pale and salt-and-pepper tied in a neat bun.

"Oh, the boy finally came. What shall we have tonight?"

Herbert smiled and nudged Alfred, who realized in a panic he had no idea what kind of food they even sold. The man seemed to take pity on him, luckily.

"Let's start you with a sampler, then. I know it's a wide variety… I'm glad you stopped by. Sarah speaks highly of you," he added with a small smile.

If he survived this Sarah was getting the bougiest fucking brunch ever.

Hebert led him to a small table over to the side to wait.

"You know, Graf is head over heels for her, but he's afraid his age will put her off," the blond murmured conspiratorially.

Alfred couldn't help snorting softly.

"She has a thing for older guys, actually. He should go for it."

Herbert grinned brightly. "I'll try to let him know that…"

Alfred couldn't help smiling. Was it something in the air? Who knew? He just… was having the best night he'd had in a long time.

The food was ready and Herbert got it, stopping only briefly to greet visitors. Alfred was a little surprised, since he always seemed so sociable before, inviting people in.

"What's the look for, hmm?"

Alfred was startled again by the quietness of Herbert's steps.

"O-oh! Nothing, really. Just… you always seem so chatty when…"

"When you spy on me from your little restaurant? I am. But tonight I'm on a date with a very cute guy, and he gets all my attention."

Alfred once again lost all coherence, nibbling at a strawberry to hide his sheepishness.

Herbert just chuckled, and began telling him about the food truck.

Graf (the owner, Mr. Sexy Older Guy) had taught himself to cook after dealing with a very hard childhood, and one day he decided he would take his knowledge out and feed others. He quickly became popular as a caterer at parties, the rich-people kind, like masquerade balls and that kinda thing.

He still did them sometimes. But his true love lay in cooking for the masses, it seemed, out on the street, in parks, at games. He decided to take the Balls and Parties with him.

"That's… really cool," Alfred admitted.

"Yeah? I think so. But we might have to give it up… he's thinking of doing a world tour in his golden years," Herbert began with a wry smirk, "as though he ever plans on retiring… but he wants an apprentice. I'm no good at anything except cold foods and people-pleasing…"

Alfred sighed and shook his head. Just his luck. He found a new favourite place and they were closing.

"I mean, you seem pretty good at what you do…" Herbert added suggestively.

"Wait, wait, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You. You're not the only one that spies from time to time. You seem really passionate about food. And fast. And competent in general."

Everything that Abronsius berated him for not being.

"I… is this all just a ploy? To poach from the competition?" He asked, stiffening. It was one thing to be all flirty and friendly, an entirely other thing to-

"What? No. Of course not! I'm not so shallow I'd do that."

Herbert looked genuinely hurt and offended. Fuck.

"I… I… I'm sorry it's just… I'm pretty often reminded that I'm a young, stupid know-nothing that'll never make it on my own and all…" Alfred muttered bitterly.

"That old hack doesn't know what he's talking about."

Graf's voice came from nowhere, and you know what? Alfred could live in a state of permanent heart-attacks. That was fine.

"What? You know him?"

"That pompous blowhard is the reason I never went to culinary school. Way back when, he made everyone's life hell because it had to be his way or nothing, because he knew how to cook 'properly' and we knew nothing."

"....so I take it he hasn't changed much."

"Nope. Almost ruined food for me. I decided I'd never go through anything that would turn me into a rude monster like that."

"Well, I'm quitting tomorrow, so I don't blame you."

Graf chuckled. "Why bother with that courtesy? Just come work for me. Rub it in his face. Bring the girl too. Take his two best kids from him."

Yeah. That… that sounded good.

"You know what? I think I will. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

He walked over to the other side of the truck, a little ways away, where he could look in and see the kitchen. And there was Sarah, flinching at something the old bastard was saying.

He called her number.

He almost couldn't believe it when she picked up.

"Look outside," he directed. She did, and gave him a wave and a bright smile.

"How do you like it?!”

"So much I'm gonna work here. I quit. You should too. They asked for you by name."

"Say no more."

She hung up, and without further ado completely stripped off her uniform, leaving her in a sports bra and leggings (cause let's be real it got fucking hot in that kitchen sometimes), and she just sauntered on out.

Herbert started laughing, and Alfred turned just in time to see the look on Graf's face as his dulcet darling was strutting over.

"So, you want to give a recently unemployed girl a job?" She asked with a bright smile.

Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot how to speak.

Herbert took over, and the pair quickly bantered a deal, and Alfred just took a minute to watch.

They looked good, all together like that. Almost like a family.

Of course, then Herbert glanced up at him, and gave him another of those heart-stopping winks.

Well.

Carpe noctem and all that.

#my writing #rayne writes #au-gust #au gust 2021 #fanfic #tanz der vampire

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tarlos-spain · 2 years

Text

Cozzy November Day - Shiver

Fandom: The resident

Pairing: Conrad Hawkins/Devon Pravesh

Characters: Conrad Hawkins, Devon Pravesh, Gigi Hawkins

Not just a cold

Chapter 2

Conrad sat at the foot of Gigi's bed for almost an hour to get her to sleep. She was excited about the field trip they were taking with the nursery to the aquarium the next day and spent quite a while talking about the fish she would see and looking forward to seeing the sharks.

But she finally managed to fall asleep after a couple of really off-key songs. Maybe she had fallen asleep so she wouldn't keep listening, but whatever it was, the girl was almost snoring.

His back ached as he picked herself up off the floor, she was starting to get older, so he took a moment to get all the muscles and bones back in place and went back to the living room.

"Holy cow. Gigi's going to give us hell when she gets a little older, there's going to be no way we're going to get her into bed if we don't wear her out first."

It amused him to speak in the plural when it came to caring for and raising Gigi, as if Devon was already part of their little family.

But his partner didn't respond. He assumed he was in the kitchen preparing something to eat. It wouldn't be the first time he'd cooked at home. Devon was a good cook, he had a good hand at making Gigi's food and Conrad wouldn't say no when someone saved him from wasting time in the kitchen.

As soon as he got to the living room, however, he found Devon on the couch, curled up in a ball, shivering and coughing. He looked asleep, but as soon as she reached him, she saw him open his eyes and smile.

"You were right after all." Devon said. "About what?" "About staying at your place. Not to abuse your hospitality, but I'm not feeling well at all."

Conrad sat down next to him and either as a doctor, as a friend, or as someone who cared about him, put his hand on his forehead. If Devon had a slight fever before, he was burning up now.

"Hold on, I'm going to get you something to bring that fever down." "No need, I'll be fine tomorrow." "Yeah, there's plenty of hours until tomorrow and if you get a little higher fever I'll have to take you back to the hospital only now you'll be the patient." "No..." Devon coughed several more times as his body shuddered, shaking. "And something for your cough." Conrad went to the medicine cabinet he kept in his bathroom and grabbed what he needed. "You sound like Gigi, one Sunday she woke up with a bit of a cough, by noon she had a high fever and in the evening I took her to the ER. Before three in the morning, I was exhausted and she was already fine, like a flower getting sunlight and wanting to play."

Devon burst out laughing, but a cough set in.

Conrad held out the small glass of syrup, she drank it in one gulp. It tasted awful but almost all medicine tastes awful.

"I'm going to make some tea and wait...I'm going to get you something." Conrad went to his bedroom and came back with a blanket, which he threw over Devon's shoulders and wordlessly watched him take refuge in it. "I bought it at a yard sale some time ago thinking I'd give it to Gigi when she was a little older, it's very warm." "I can feel it." "I think you need it more than Gigi right now."

Devon nodded, swung his legs up onto the couch and made a hut under the blanket for his whole body.

"Better?" Conrad asked and Devon nodded. "At least you're not shivering anymore."

Devon was tempted to ask him to hold him, he needed someone to hold him, he needed Conrad. It was stupid of him to think that someone like Conrad would do romantic charades like that, least of all with him.

So he restrained himself from saying anything and settled for the warm feeling the blanket left on him. It was true, at least he had stopped shivering.

"I'm going to make that tea. How do you like it? I don't know why but I've ended up having all kinds of tea." "I like green." Devon's voice sounded almost hard to understand, because he was falling asleep, sitting on the couch. "I always put honey in it, I don't like it with sugar. I can make it for you if you want, because of how good you're always with me and because I love you..."

Conrad held his breath for a moment when he heard that. He waited for Devon to say something else, to say he was pulling his leg, or something else, but the fever had been stronger and he'd fallen asleep.

They'd talk about what had just happened, if Devon remembered when he was feeling better.

He laid him down on the couch and Devon didn't even notice, but just as he was about to pull away to go make tea so it would be ready when he woke up, Devon grabbed his hand, intertwined his fingers with his and pulled him close.

"Don't leave me...don't leave me alone." "I'm just going to the kitchen for a moment. I've promised you tea with honey." "But I need you..." "I'll be back in two minutes."

Devon pulled him back and made him kneel down like Prince Charming waking up Princess Charming and stared at him.

He wasn't sure he'd ever looked at him like that. Maybe because they usually saw each other at the hospital, maybe because he was busy most of his free time with Gigi, or maybe because it was tender to see him sick and needy now.

Whether it was because of a magic spell or because he was discovering feelings for Devon that he didn't know he had before, he leaned over Devon, stroked his cheek that was still burning. She had to give him some medicine to lower it so he could sleep peacefully.

But before he could do anything else, Conrad found Devon's eyes glazed over, feverish and about to close again and his partner's hand on the back of his neck tugging at him.

"Dev..." "It'll be just a kiss, Conrad and we'll blame it on the fever."

Conrad hesitated, he was going to pull away, but Devon tugged on him some more and he didn't resist. He didn't know why, or maybe it was very clear to him, but he didn't resist and kissed Devon for the first time.

#30daysofcozy #Devrad #Conrad/Devon #Shiver #Fever #Sick Devon #Protective Conrad

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