Send Your Cutest Delivery Boy Pls! Uwu - Fire Emblem: Fuuin No Tsurugi

send your cutest delivery boy pls! uwu

“I don’t know why you need this. You’re a lesbian. Also, I’m gonna be honest, this is the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever seen,” Wolt said flatly, zooming the screen back out. “I think the weird face just lowered your chances of getting a cute delivery boy.”

“Well, I think it’s nice!” Lilina snatched the phone out of his hand haughtily, handing it back to a flustered Gwendolyn. “And duh, it’s not for me, it’s for you, Wolt! The least you could do is say ‘thanks, Lilina’!”

“It’s for—what?” He gaped, all composure dissipated. Gwendolyn gave a nervous chuckle and darted back into the dining room, where their workstation was set up.

Lilina scoffed and put a hand on her hip. “Gods, Wolt, all you do in our DMs is whine about not having a boyfriend! I’m just helping you along the path to success!”

“Oh—no.” Wolt rubbed his temples, unsure of whether to climb Gwendolyn’s backyard fence and make a run for it. “Not—not like this. Can’t someone else just answer it?” he added desperately.

“You’re done your part of the project already,” Lilina reminded him, trying and failing to hide a smirk behind her hand. “The rest of us need all the time we can get! Therefore, you get to be on door duty!” She took his hand and pressed a number of crumpled bills into his palm. “We’ll all pitch in. You just need to answer the door!”

“But—”

“No buts!” she sang, skipping away. “Have lots of fun!” And with that, she was back in the dining room, leaving Wolt alone in Gwendolyn’s foyer, clutching about $20 and a feeble will to live.

“Crap,” he whispered to himself, just once. How long ago had they ordered? Five minutes? How long would it take a decidedly not-cute delivery boy to deliver it? Ten minutes?

So he had five minutes to shore up his resolve and—wait, what were the chances they would send their ‘cutest delivery boy pls! uwu’ anyways? This kind of stuff only, only, happened in cheesy teen fiction. Not that he made a habit of reading such fiction. He got it from the movies, okay!?

The doorbell rang and his heart almost stopped.

“Wolt! Could you get that?” Lilina’s voice rang through the house. Wolt could feel the smugness radiating off of it.

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered to himself, steeling his nerves as he crossed the foyer to grasp the doorknob.

He sent a last prayer, alarmed that he couldn’t decide whether he wanted this delivery person to be cute or not cute, and wrenched the door open.

Sometimes his prayers went answered, like the time he hadn’t studied for a science test, prayed for a fire drill, and then a printer exploded in the tech design room and everyone got to go home early (no one was injured, thankfully). Other times, and this was most of the time, the gods would remain silent, and he’d weather through whatever ordeal he’d been trying to get out of.

Wolt was not a very decisive person by nature, preferring instead to tag along with whatever his friends were doing. If it were up to him to choose, say, where to eat, it would come down to a coin toss, and only then would he know, in his heart, where he truly wanted to go.

How is this related? In the split second before a crack formed between the door and the wall, Wolt found himself, deep down inside, wanting this meet-cute to happen, despite how incredibly tropey the idea of asking for a cute delivery boy and actually receiving one was.

“Hi, I’m here to deliver a pizza!”

Wolt stared. His delivery boy had come, and gods almighty, he had delivered.

First off, the hair. The flaming red hair, spiky in some places, flat in others. His nametag read ‘Roy.’ Wolt was slightly taller than him, but not by much, and by the gods, he was adorable.

“Er, is this the right address?” It occurred to Wolt that he’d been staring for longer than was socially acceptable, but who could blame him?

“Yes! I’m the right address—I mean, person. I mean, this is the right address.” No encounter with a cute boy would be complete without Wolt making an absolute fool of himself—check.

“Well, alright,” the delivery boy said bemusedly, balancing the pizza box in one hand. “You asked for ‘our cutest delivery boy,’ right?” He smiled as he quoted their special instructions, but there was a modicum of shyness to it that drew Wolt in even further.

“Yeah, I—we did,” Wolt said, feeling his face go up in flames, almost like the hair of the boy standing across from him. Shoot your shot, shoot your shot. “You—you’re really cute.”

He wanted to die as soon as the words came out of his mouth, but he figured, I’ll see him once and then I’ll never see him again, so it might as well be practice, right?

To his utter surprise, the delivery boy actually looked flustered, and a bit pleased, smiling sheepishly. “I—I guess that’s why they sent me, right? And, um—” He looked as if he was mentally struggling with something for a moment, brows knitting together, then seemed to shrug it off. “You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

Wolt stared again. This was—he hated to admit it, but—literally the furthest he’d ever gotten with anyone, ever. And it was with the damn pizza delivery boy, who, in about two minutes, would disappear from his life forever.

Well, damn.

“Uh. Thanks?” Somehow, that didn’t sit right with him. They’d forged a connection within the thirty seconds of conversation they’d shared, and Wolt hated to just let it all go to waste.

But what could he do?

“Don’t mention it. You want your pizza?” The delivery boy grinned easily and offered the box to Wolt, who took it, exchanging it for the bills in his hand. Their hands didn’t touch, an act that Wolt had very much not been trying to see through.

“Okay, change is—”

“Keep it!” Wolt blurted out, wincing as he said it. It wasn’t even his money! “As my tip! Our tip—a tip! Oh gods,” he couldn’t help but mutter as he put a hand to his probably red face, “a tip. It’s a tip.”

“Well, um.” When Wolt lowered his hand, the delivery boy was already on the first step down. “I’ll certainly take your tip, cute boy. Thanks for ordering from us!”

It was all happening too fast. This was flirting, right? Definitely flirting? With the cute delivery boy that doesn’t exist in real life?

Who he would never see again?

“WaitcouldIgetyournumber?” Wolt yelled just as the delivery boy hopped off the last step. His heart was beating a steady rhythm in cut time and Gwendolyn’s neighbours had probably heard that, but he didn’t care. Much.

He held his breath as the delivery boy turned back.

“You’re asking for my number based on one chance encounter that lasted less than five minutes?” One of his eyebrows was raised, the scrutinizing effect counteracted slightly by his teasing smile.

“Yes,” Wolt said, staring back defiantly. His cheeks felt as hot as the bottom of the pizza box in his hands.

Silence stretched between them for a moment, during which Wolt refused to break eye contact with the very cute delivery boy (no easy feat), until the delivery boy murmured, “This is stupid” and trotted back up the steps.

Oh my gods, this is happening. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Wolt said, but if that was a lie, this moment would still definitely be up there.

“Done a lot of stupid things before?” came the delivery boy’s teasing reply. He sure had a lot of ‘em.

“Only in the presence of cute boys,” Wolt said without thinking. He was beginning to warm up to this kind of fast-paced exchange.

The delivery boy laughed at that, a youthful peal of sound that had Wolt inwardly squealing. Not that he’d ever outwardly squeal.

“Well, in that case…” He produced a pen from out of nowhere and began writing on the pizza box. Wolt adjusted his grip feverishly, holding it with two hands on either side to make it more stable.

He straightened up once he was done, pocketing the pen. “I should probably get your name, for when you text me, right?”

He said ‘when’. “Oh! Uh, Wolt,” he replied, hating how awkward he sounded. “And you’re…?”

“Roy. It says on my nametag,” Roy pointed out, looking faintly amused. “I’d shake your hand,  but seeing as they’re a little occupied, I’ll just have to…” Without warning, Roy leaned forward and gave Wolt’s cheek the teensiest peck.

Wolt froze.

Wow. This was really happening.

“I’ll see you soon, cute boy,” Roy winked as if he knew the full effect of what he had just did. Wolt still couldn’t speak, mouth agape. He was sure even his ears must be red by now.

He recovered enough to shout something that might’ve been “yeah, see you” as Roy bounded down the steps and down the driveway, mounting a bicycle that Wolt hadn’t previously noticed and waving as he pedaled away.

Wolt might’ve closed the door, might’ve stumbled back into the house, might’ve dropped the pizza box in the middle of the table, right on top of everyone’s papers, might’ve pulled out his chair and collapsed into it. Everything looked and felt unreal.

“So what in blazes went down with the pizza guy?” Klein arched an eyebrow interestedly at the number on the lid.

“Holy mother of—” Lilina looked, wide-eyed, at the box, then at Wolt. “You did it! You actually did it! You tool, c’mere!”

It was Lilina’s slap on the back that snapped Wolt back to reality, the haze around his thoughts clearing. He wished it had stayed.

“Oh, gods.” He covered his face with his hands. “I got his number.”

Lilina’s enthusiastic whoop echoed through the house as she slapped him on the back again, Klein and Gwendolyn clapping in the background, one dryly and the other in genuine support.

“Finally lost your flirting virginity, huh? They grow up so fast!” Lilina sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with an exaggerated look of reminiscence.

“Ew, don’t call it that. By the way, did you get back any change?” Klein lifted the top and took a slice, licking his lips.

“I, uh. Tipped all of it,” Wolt admitted, finding his voice again.

“Oh, that’s fine, Klein’s rich anyways,” Lilina dismissed, ignoring Klein’s indignant ‘Hey!’ as she sat back down. “Eight dollars is a small price to pay for salvation.”

“I’m assuming that’s his number, on the box?” Gwendolyn asked, tilting her head to read it.

“Yeah, should I—”

“Yes,” all three of his friends said in unison.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask!” he objected, trying to sound offended.

Lilina sighed again. “You were going to ask if you should text him now or wait a little, but we all know that if you wait, you’ll end up putting it off forever. So, what are you waiting for?”

Well, they were right about that. “Fine, fine! I’m just gonna.” He pointed towards the kitchen, getting out his phone from his pocket. “Um, wish me luck?”

“What do you mean, luck? You got his number, didn’t you?” said Klein, but the other two overrode him with a chorus of ‘good luck’. Lilina smiled and said, “You’ll be great,” and even Gwendolyn gave him a thumbs up.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and input the number into his contacts before walking into the kitchen, away from the too-interested eyes of his friends.

Once he was alone with nothing but the whirring of the fridge to keep him company, the memory of what exactly had happened came rushing back. The flirting, the kiss, the everything. It’d been crazy, it’d been wild, and it’d been the most exhilarating thing he’d done in his life.

He smiled and began to draft a text, fiery hair burning bright in his mind.