#and she flopped and meowed until i got on the floor with her

[pups-2-dust]

We are having Xan requested floor time in my roommates office

[italiansteebie]

secret shape shifter Steve who everyone thinks dies in the upside down, only he doesn't but he's having a fantastically peaceful time shifting into a small brown cat and bugging each of them at their houses.

he keeps it his own little secret until robin and eddie come close to a fist fight over who he belongs to, and the peace he felt once is gone. "he's my cat. buck! his name is oz, and I found him first." Eddie sneers, waving his hands theatrically. "uh, no. he crawled out from under the rubble at my house, his name is rubble, obviously, and he is mine."

their heads turn to the cat that had been resting lazily on the worn couch, as he screamed at them, seeming to want them to stop arguing. "shush, cat. we're trying to argue," Eddie says, swiping a hand over his face, to which he hisses at, rolling his eyes before stalking back to eddies room. he can still hear them arguing, he shakes his head, "dummies," he thinks as he flicks his tail. he flops down, rolling on his back and stretching until his bones pop and snap back into his human form. (he shifted every night after he went home, he had some practice by now). Steve groaned as he stood, ruffling his hair, picking up some clean-ish clothes off of eddies floor, before slipping them on.

"can you guys shut up?" he said, walking into the living room where his two friends were still arguing. "no- steve? are you real?" Eddie whispered, poking his face, "hey!"

"what the fuck Steve, we thought you were dead!" robin cried, tears streaming down her face as she launched herself into his arms. "I've been around, robs."

"what are you talking about?" Eddie whispered, still staring at him as though he's an apparition, and well, he kind of is... "im the cat," Steve said simply, tacking on a 'meow,' for emphasis.

"what cat? my cat? rubble?" robin asked, jaw dropping when Steve nodding. "I changed in front of you! oh my god, Steve."

"prove it," Eddie said, eyeing him carefully.

Steve rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders before beginning the shift once more. he stared up at his friends for a moment before shifting back into his human form carefully, as to not flash either of them.

"Oh my god. I told you about my crush on- that was private" Eddie cried, scrubbing a hand over his face.

and Steve remembers that night, how he softly curled around Eddie after uttering those words. "and I hate him," he'd sobbed, "because I never- never got to tell him how I felt," and Steve had never wanted to shift more in a moment, than right then and there.

[cyncerity]

First story of the Hiraeth AU!! i go back to uni tomorrow so i wanted to get one more story out before then lol

no tw!! just a short intro story (i’ll get into other characters and worldbuilding later, this au is more for funny sitcom scenarios than angst or lore. feel free to send asks!)

Ranboo did not remember it being this god damn cold when he went to bed. Sure he had cracked the window a little bit for some fresh air, but in the few hours he’d been asleep, a blizzard must have hit. He quickly got out of bed and slammed the window shut, still barely awake. Enderchest meowed at him, large yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of his dorm room. Poor cat, the cold must’ve woken her up, too. He shuffled over to her bed and pet her, receiving happy purrs as she belatedly fell back asleep. She’d been up half the night calming Ranboo down after a particularly stressful day, so she deserved good rest as much as he did. Ranboo checked the clock. 4:17 am. Great.

He sat back on his bed, flopping onto his back with a tired groan. He laid his head against the pillow, trying to calm his thoughts enough to fall asleep. He laid and counted forwards to a hundred, then backwards, then forwards again for good measure for who knows how long until-

he heard something shuffle.

It was quiet, he hadn’t have heard it if he was fully asleep. So he waited a little while longer…until he heard more shuffling. Great. Fucking awesome, was there a rat in his dorm room? Did his dorm room have an infestation? Fantastic. Well, he was already awake, might as well do something about it. Maybe he could catch it for Aimsey, they would love to see a wild rat, there was a reason they were studying animal sciences.

Ranboo waited a little longer, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He heard the shuffling move around a bit more before moving closer and closer to his bed. He heard a quiet scratching, and then all of a sudden he heard something climb onto his bedside table. He felt around until he found something to catch it with; a blanket that sat folded squarely near his hand. Perfect. Couldn’t be easier.

Ranboo sprung, throwing the blanket over the desk, sweeping up not only the rat but his alarm clock and charging phone. But he caught the rat, that he was sure of. The creature was clawing and screaming in the blanket he was holding, so it probably couldn’t stay in there. Ranboo walked to Enderchest’s carrier in the dim moonlight as he grabbed the moving thing from outside the blanket, dropping his other items to the floor before throwing the creature into the carrier and zipping it shut. It could stay in there until morning before he could get it to Aimsey.

The thing eventually stopped screaming when it wasn’t being held anymore. In the darkness of the room, Ranboo vaguely saw a tail exit the blanket and pointed ears stick out another end. Great, a rat, he was right. He turned back to go to bed, tired of being awake for so long until-

“Hey!!” a higher voice rang out and Ranboo whipped around. Nothing. No one. He could have sworn it sounded so close. Maybe he was just hallucinating from lack of sleep. Professor Sneeg had been assigning more work and Ranboo had been losing sleep to not fall behind, but-

“Hey, wait!” There it was again. “…hello?” Ranboo whispered, unsure if he was actually hearing someone or if it was all in his head. “Hey dickhead! Let me out!” “…what?” Ranboo questioned, looking around. “Down here, dumbass.” Ranboo looked down, only spotting the carrier on the ground. “No, no..” he muttered to himself, sighing. “The rat’s not talking to me, i’ve finally lost it.” “Who are you calling a rat?!” The thing, apparently not a rat, shouted. Looking closer, Ranboo could see eerily human paws (hands?) pressed against the front mesh of the carrier. “…No fucking way.”

Ranboo kneeled down, picking up his discarded phone and looking closer at the carrier. He saw a silhouette of something in the carrier, eyes reflecting back and looking back at him. He took a deep breath and turned his phone flashlight on.

Ranboo had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling. Whatever was in that carrier was not a rat, not by a long shot. “Try not to freak out.” The thing said a little sarcastically, and oh god, it really can talk. Ranboo fell backwards, scooting away from it. “Wh..what the fuck??” He whispered. God knows the last thing he needs on top of this is a noise complaint. “Can you let me out?” The thing asked again, looking annoyed with its vaguely humanoid face. The top half of its face was covered in blonde fur with darker fur under its eyes and on its nose, somewhat reminiscent of a raccoon. Its clawed hands were fur covered, and Ranboo noticed a disproportionately long tail coiled on the ground near its animalistic feet. It’s eyes were pure black, and behind long rounded ears he could see a long puckered scar and shorter fur on the back of it’s head, like it had been shaved down a while before. But that wasn’t even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was that it was clothed. It was wearing layers of dirty, sewn rags and bandages with stitches too little to be done by human hands. It had made itself clothes. Plus, the way this thing carried itself? The way it moved and spoke? It was undeniably, eerily, human.

“What the fuck are you??” “That’s for me to know and you to not find out. Let me go.” “No.” Ranboo said, inching back closer to get a better look at it. “The fuck you mean no?! You can’t trap me here!!” It responded, getting louder in its frustration. Ranboo hurriedly shushed it, the creature’s ears perking and head quirking in confusion. “Quiet! Why are you even in my dorm room?” “Have you seen what it’s like outside? I don’t have the supplies to survive a storm like that. Your room just happened to be the easiest to break into.“ “So you break into my dorm and complain about getting caught?” Ranboo asked, and the creature slumped in defeat. “This has never really happened before. I’m normally sneaky enough that I’ve never even spoken to someone else.” “You mean a human?” “Uh, yeah…definitely. And i’ve certainly never been caught, either.” The creature said, a smug grin forming on its face. “You said to be quiet, huh? How about if you don’t let me out, I scream so loud it’ll wake up everyone in this whole building.” “Try it and i’m throwing the cat carrier outside.” The creature’s grin fell immediately.

“Aw, c’mon man! I told you, I don’t have anywhere else to even go! It’s not like i’m leaving here in a blizzard!” “If you’re not leaving, then I’d like to know where you are. I don’t want you roaming my dorm while i’m asleep.” Ranboo said with a sense of finality as he stood up and walked back to his bed. He checked his phone. Almost 5 am. Only about 6 hours till his next class. Maybe he could skip, he’s sure Charlie would understand. “Wh- how am I even supposed to sleep in here?!” he heard the creature shout, despite the fact that he could no longer see it from his bed. “Shush. You have a blanket.” He could practically see the creatures disgruntled look as he heard it mutter curses to itself before finally using the blanket that had been used to capture it as a makeshift bed.

Maybe it was the exhaustion making Ranboo take all of this far too well, but Ranboo honestly couldn’t care more about this weird new little species at the moment. He just needed the sleep. And who knows, maybe he’d wake up and the cat carrier would be empty and he’d know he was crazy. He didn’t care right now. Though, right now he knew it was real, and he felt a little bad that he was keeping a clearly sapient creature in a cat carrier. He also felt a little bad that he was just calling it ‘the creature.’ “My names Ranboo, by the way. Uh, i’m a guy but i also use they sometimes, i guess?” He introduced awkwardly. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, before it answered. “Tommy.” it said, sounding resigned. “My names Tommy, I don’t really know but I guess i’m a guy cause. Why not.” Ranboo couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy. Sorry i threw you in a cat carrier.” It, or he, Ranboo supposed, laughed in response. “Well, let me out tomorrow and we’ll see if I forgive you.” “I can do that. Good night, Tommy.” “Night, Ranboo.”

Yeah, Ranboo thought as he fell asleep, If Tommy really isn’t a hallucination, tomorrow is gonna be weird.

[meownotgood]

pocky. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, fluff, playing the pocky game with aki

"Are you sure Denji and Power will stop bugging me if I play this with you?" 

You can't help but giggle at the obvious exasperation in Aki's voice. Holding out the box of pocky and giving it a shake, you nod your head, replying, "Yes, I'm totally sure. I'll make sure they leave you alone for the next week." 

Aki's eyes scan your face, up and down. His lips purse into a subtle pout as he considers this one last time, before finally, he exhales a dramatic sigh of defeat. He snatches the box of pocky from your hand, tapping the bottom with his palm. A piece pops up, and he grabs it between two fingers, placing the box back on the counter. Then, he turns to you, and with a nod of his head, he instructs, "Open." 

Truthfully, you're not sure if you'll be able to follow through on the promise you just made; Denji and Power tend to be quite the handful, so convincing them to give Aki a break is a difficult task at best and an impossible one at worst. 

At the very least though, you're sure you can get them to stop asking Aki to play the pocky game with you. According to Aki, they've been pleading with him ever since this morning to not only play, but make sure he asks you to play with him. They've been pestering him about it ever since they got home, actually. 

"C'mon dude, only reason we bought the pocky is so we could all play. Me and Powy already played, so now it's you guys' turn." Denji had chimed from where he sat at the living room table, crossing his arms over his chest. This had to have been the fourth… No, at least the fifth time he's brought this up. So many times, Aki was beginning to lose count. 

Aki scowled, not even bothering to spare Denji a glance. He kept his gaze fixated on his laundry as he carefully took another shirt from the hamper, folding it into a neat square. "Yeah, and you bought it with the allowance I gave you. To buy real groceries." 

"Pocky is real groceries!" 

"Topknot's just scared the two of them are gonna end up smooching!" Power teased with a playful laugh. She flopped back onto the floor, lifting Meowy above her head, smirking when the cat meowed in confusion. "The ridiculous fears of humans are so difficult to understand." 

"Yeah," Denji snorts, "He's totally scared, look at him." 

After yelling at the two of them to cut it out, insisting that no, he's not scared, with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes, Aki carries his basket of laundry to continue folding in the privacy of his own room. 

He's not scared, not nervous, definitely not. They're being completely ridiculous. This is stupid, that's all. He doesn't have the time for this, to play some dumb game that Denji and Power probably made up in order to tease him. 

Yeah. It's just a dumb game. 

And when Denji and Power leave to go to the arcade (after begging Aki for some quarters, of course), Aki is only inviting you over because he's finished all his chores for the night, and without his two little idiots here to pester him, he's awfully bored. And then, once you've arrived at his apartment and start asking him about his day, if his roommates are behaving themselves — Aki explains the game they were trying to make him play. It's just 'cause you asked, that's all. 

A part of him expected you to just laugh it off, tell him how ridiculous it is, or maybe confirm his suspicions that yes, it's only something those two brats made up. But instead, to his surprise, you're quickly moving to grab the box of pocky from where Denji and Power conveniently left it on the coffee table in the living room. 

Then, you're marching over to where Aki is peeling fruit in the kitchen, waving the box of pocky in front of him. You confidently ask, "If you're tired of them nagging you about it, why don't you just play with me?" 

Aki hasn't gotten a chance to have a good look at the pocky until now: chocolate-flavored, it seems. He's staring at you from the corner of his eye, expertly gliding his knife under the peel of his apple. When he doesn't reply, you crook an eyebrow, and continue, "The game is easy, and it'll be over in a second. Then, you can tell them you played, I'll back you up, and that'll be that. How about it?" 

Aki could have said no. He could have said No, it's fine, they'll forget about it and stop pestering me after a few days. But for some reason, he's finding himself taking the box of pocky from your hands, pulling out a piece, and placing the chocolate side between your open lips until you bite down. 

You stare up at him expectantly, and he takes a slow, shuddery breath in. Denji and Power explained to him earlier how the game works. He just has to make sure the pocky stick doesn't break, that's all. And to put it in Power's own words, Don't be the first one to pull away like a stupid scaredy-cat! 

It doesn't matter if he wins or loses anyway, he just has to play. Aki leans down to be more level with your height, and he hesitantly places the biscuit end of the pocky in between his teeth. 

He can do this, he can definitely do this… It's just a stupid game, just some idiotic thing that Denji and Power came up with to embarrass him and make him look stupid — So why is his heart pounding so hard? He can feel it drumming against his chest, so loud he can hear it in his ears, and with how close you are right now, he wouldn't be surprised if you could hear it too. Why are his cheeks heating up, why is his face so warm that he's sure he must be blushing a shade brighter than the red of the pocky box? 

When you start to move forward, crunching more of the pocky stick, Aki screws his eyes shut and wills himself to do the same. His shaky hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gripping tightly to steady himself. Stay focused, stay focused, he repeats to himself again and again, trying his hardest not to drop the pocky — It's just a stupid game, why are you freaking out so much right now, dumbass? Just don't drop it, don't drop it, don't- 

Aki tastes the chocolate on his tongue right before he feels your lips brush against his. The slightest touch, your plush lips just barely pressed to his own, but enough to send tingles over his shoulders and his spine, enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. His hand on your shoulder grips even tighter, and your hands fist the straps of his apron, ever-so slightly tugging him in. 

Aki gasps quietly, and he bites down a little harder than he should have, his breath comes out a lot quicker than he wants it to. And then, he hears a small snap, and he feels you pull away. 

His eyes flutter open to see you smiling, trying your best to stifle little giggles, the smallest smear of chocolate over your lips. Not much of the pocky is left, but what remains is still between his teeth, sticking out of his mouth. 

"I pulled away first," You tilt your head at him, wiping the chocolate from your lips with your thumb. "So that means I lose." 

"I-" Aki tenses up for a second, his voice muffled by the pocky stick. He looks away sheepishly, then stands up straight, pushing the remainder of the pocky into his mouth. 

"That was pretty easy, see? Now you're off the hook." 

"Uh, yeah," Aki licks the chocolate from his fingers. "I guess so." 

Your eyes narrow, "You won, but you seem disappointed. Was it not fun?" 

Aki simply shrugs, turning back to his plate of half-cut fruit. The faint shade of pink dusted over his cheeks and the tips of his pierced ears is starting to fade, but it's still there, nonetheless. You watch as he goes back to cutting apples; he winces when he accidentally grazes his thumb with the tip of his knife. His hands are shaking, and he's lost the sense of precision he had before. 

You listen to the idle tick, tick of the clock on the wall. Aki exhales a shuddery breath through his mouth.

The taste of chocolate still lingers on his tongue, he can still feel the ghost of your lips pressed against his. You were right there, you almost… the two of you almost… 

Aki swallows the lump forming in his throat, and he's knocked out of his daze when he hears you speak again, your voice quiet, but close to his ear. 

"If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just asked me, you know." 

Your hand is cupping Aki's cheek in an instant. Aki twists towards you, stumbling back a little, catching the corner of the counter to keep himself from falling — You're close, so damn close, your palm on his face is warm, you're touching him. His heartbeat immediately quickens back to its earlier eager pace, his cheeks burn, his breath catches in his throat. 

Aki gulps. He forces himself to meet your gaze, despite how desperately his brain is telling him to look away. His voice is low, smooth, but is still unable to hide a bit of his nervousness. 

"Then, can I kiss you?" Gently, slowly, with a hand that slightly trembles, he grasps your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up towards him. "Or, do you want to play again?"  

[nurse-buckley]

Sicktember Day Eleven - Emergency Room/ Ambulance

Fandom: 9-1-1  Pairing: Buck x Reader  Word Count: 1,095 words  Prompt: @sicktember Day 11 - Emergency Room/ Ambulance, written for the amazing @floralbuckleys  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity  If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!  

Buck had warned you on more than one occasion to be careful carrying stuff down the steep stairs of his loft, even more so now you had both welcomed the latest edition to your family. The shelter a block from your shared apartment had had a special event for the cats and kittens in their care with their kennels recently overwhelmed. With a lot of pleading from you and the endless cute cat photos you'd sent to Buck, he had eventually caved and you’d adopted Sammie, a beautiful little white and ginger cat who had definitely made the place her home. 

“Come on girl,” you gently nudged her with your foot to try and get her to walk ahead of you, your hands full with a basket of laundry that had built up. You giggled as she didn't listen, flopping over dramatically in front of you before moving to weave in and out between your legs as you continued to ignore her. 

You’d had a few near misses, Sammie wanting to be right by your side, rubbing her face against your legs as you attempted to move past her. “Sammie, come on sweetheart, you’re going to trip…” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you came tumbling down the stairs, Sammie running off to hide with her tail fluffed as the flying laundry startled her. 

You tumbled down the stairs, each one seeming to find a new spot to hit, sending jolts of pain through your body until you flew forward, your head landing on the floor with a sickening thud. 

With the wind knocked out of you it took a little while for the initial shock to wear off. You took a shaky breath before you began to move each of your legs, testing for injury, moving higher and higher as you checked your body over. When it came to checking your wrist, you let out a yelp as a jolt of pain shot up your arm.  The jerk sent another pain through your head and you could already feel the large lump forming near your temple where you’d made impact with the ground. You lifted your hand to inspect the side of your head, gasping when it came away with a smear of blood from a cut on your forehead. 

With the danger over, you glanced around as you heard a meow, the sound followed by Sammie who had come out from her hiding spot to investigate what had happened. She made her way over coming to nuzzle against your side; if you knew better you would think she was apologising for causing the accident. 

“And this is why we’re careful on the stairs,” you groaned as you cautiously sat up. Sammie seemed to take this as an invitation and she climbed onto your lap, her paws coming to rest on your chest as she nuzzled against your face. “Alright, get off me. I guess I’ve got to go and get checked out at the hospital.  What’s your dad going to say about this? You think we can get away without calling him from the ER?” 

Being gentle, you shoved her off before you slowly got to your feet, glad you were the only injured party between you. Once you were sure you were okay to stand, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbed some gauze for your head, and left your apartment for the short walk to the hospital. 

By the time you arrived in the ER and were triaged, the pain in your head and wrist had doubled and you were beginning to think maybe it would be a good time to call Buck. 

“Y/N?” 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard your name in an all too familiar voice. You turned just in time to see Buck and Eddie wheeling a patient into the ER, cursing whatever power had led them to bringing someone in at that exact moment. 

“Heeeeeey babe. It’s not as bad as it looks,” you replied. 

Buck wasted no time, checking that Eddie was okay being left with the patient before he made his way over to where you were sitting. 

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said as his hands came to hover over you, afraid to hurt you as he checked over your injuries. He put a gentle hand over the one holding the bloodied gauze to your head, pulling it away with a hiss as he got a glimpse at the wound. 

“Y/N what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“I swear, I was going to as soon as the nurse saw me. I wasn’t looking where I was going with the laundry and Sammie got under my feet and I ended up falling down the last few steps.” 

Buck sighed as he glanced over the various bruises that had begun to form over your body and the swelling in your wrist, “that looks like a lot more than a few,” he admonished.   “I’m going to go catch up with Bobby and let him know I’m staying with you, you’ll need someone to take you home with that head injury…,” Buck paused, “wait…how did you get here anyway? Did you drive with a head injury?  Y/n, do you even know how dangerous…” 

“Buck,” you interrupted him. “I’m not that stupid, I didn’t drive here…I walked.” You realised as soon as you said it and by the look on Buck’s face that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision you had made either, but you decided to chalk that up to the head injury.  

“Why didn’t you call 911, or me? You could have had a spinal injury, you could have a serious head injury and be unconscious on the side of the road right now,” he continued rambling off each and every worst case scenario he could think of. 

“I know and I’m sorry, I was embarrassed, you’ve told me time and time again to watch out for Sammie and I didn’t listen.” 

Buck silenced you with a chaste kiss to your forehead, “it doesn’t matter now, as long as you’re both okay. I’m going to take the rest of the shift off, take you home, and we’re going to get your favourite takeout and chill on the couch tonight.” 

You stopped him as he began to turn and walk away to find his captain. 

“What’s wrong baby?” 

“Can we stop by the store and get Sammie a treat? She’s had a trauma today too!” 

“Anything for you two,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

[usaigi]

Marc vs Gatarina

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

Marc Spector, former mercenary and first of Khonshu, who sacrifices his whole being to justice and protecting the innocent, who quite literally saved the world, is not a jealous man. That’s ridiculous, what normal person would be jealous of a cat? In fact, Marc has never been jealous of anyone; not of other avatars whose gods aren't bloodthirsty assholes, or anyone who dares to speak to his wife, or even his own alters. Definitely not jealous.

Gatarina is just a bitch who hates him so some reason.

Despite all sharing the same body, the cat does not like him. Steven’s wonderful! He feeds her breakfast and scratches her head. Loves the kids, they both play with her until she flops over on the floor. Jake adores her; sings her praise. Quite literally, Layla has a video on her phone of Jake singing Spanish love songs to her. Daniela recently discovered that they make “cat wine” so now she kicks everyone out of the body to get drunk and gossip with his wife and the cat. The cat even has Mr. Knight under her spell. Mr. Knight, the “CEO of Justice” or some shit. Marc wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Knight tries to teach the cat how to play chess or something. Or got her her own Moon Knight costume. 

“You have to be kidding me, is that cat wearing a designer collar?” Marc asks when he notices the double “GG” pendant hanging off the cat's new pink collar. 

“Cute, right? Daniela just got it,” Layla answers, continuing to scratch Gatarina’s chin as she purrs.

“How much did it cost?”

“I don’t even want to know,” Layla laughs it off.  

“Don’t you dare–no, no, no!” and the cat knocked over the framed picture of Marc and Layla on their wedding day. Great. “See, she does this to spite me.”

‘Marc. She’s a cat. She’s just playing.’ Steven answers, suppressing his laughter. 

‘Marc?’ Jake says, 

‘What?’ Marc groans.

‘Why did Gatarina tell me that you called her spoiled chubby fleabag? You can’t say that kind of thing to her, she’s just a baby.’ Jake scolds him, with arms crossed and equally as crossed facial expression.

‘She’s a cat.’

‘Es mi hija.'

‘Look, I drew us a family picture. Well, Birdy drew it because she’s better at drawing but she let me color it! That’s Jake with his mustache and hat, and Birdy with her new haircut, Steven and his Guses, and Daniela and Mr. Knight and Ms. Layla with Gatarina and that’s you! You’re grumpy because Ms. Layla is giving all her attention to the gatita instead of you.’ Kid says proudly, pointing at the different cartoon figures on the paper stuck onto the fridge. It's a cute drawing, in the style of the game Birdy and Kid like so much. Still…   

‘I’m not grumpy,’ Marc frowns. 

Kid doesn’t reply, instead he just presses his lips together, almost as if to suppress a laugh, and looks off to the side.

“Jake, you can’t be serious, did you get matching hats with your cat?” Marc asks, after catching a glance of Jake and his dumb cat in the rearview mirror.

“Pa’ que te digo que no, si sí.”

“Purrmeow~” Gatarina meows, rubbing up against Mr. Knight’s leg as soon as they walk through the door. 

“Is that right Ms. Gatarina?” Mr. Knight asks, bending down to pet her. 

“Meoow~” she purrs. 

“Interesting proposal. Perhaps we should unionize against Mr. Spector.”

“I hate you,” Marc tells her as the cat licks his hand. “Maybe I’ll forget to close the door and you can disappear,” he says as she butts her head against his hand. Looking up at him with her manipulative blue eyes, demanding him to pet her. Marc slides his hand down her back before she rolls over to show her tummy, folding her little paws over. She’s still purring so he reaches down to her tummy, and in return she grabs his hand with her claws, biting down on his hands with her sharp fangs.

Evil.   

[fragileizywriting]

[dancing] Hi this has been in my drafts since uhmmmmm the beginning of February, hi. I don't know when I'll publish this but it's already like two weeks since I made this and who knows when I'll actually publish it. Anyway!

I have an idea for a fic that I’ve wanted to write since even before the idea of potentially writing the crossover fic(s). I'll just write a draft of it here, just in case I never actually write it...

Marinette has an accident. No, seriously. She trips/falls/hits her foot on something.

I even have a title for it: Fallin' for you (and you, and you, and you)

SAS fic is easy. Kitty is climbing through adrien’s window like she always does, when she misses, and slams her foot into the window just as she slips through. It makes a noise. Like, a noise. Adrien’s half expecting for the window to shatter from how loud it was, but nothing happens except Kitty rolls on the floor with her hand on her feet and cursing up a storm.

Well. Cursing in the way she usually does.

“Holy fudging hell beach has—” Kitty takes a breath, rolling into a pretzel of some kind as she cradles her foot to her chest in a way that shouldn’t be possible. He can't tell what is Kitty's hand and what is Kitty's foot and what is Kitty. She's a ball of terror with the way she's positioned, something out of a horror movie as she doubles over her foot and holds it. “Oh, dicks, sunshine. Straight up dicks.”

Yikes. Must’ve been a real hit, then.

“It sounded like it hurt a lot,” Adrien offers, crossing the bedroom to look at her. He leaves his math homework behind-- Pythagorean identities are hard to do when there's a girl in distress, and he's more fond of her than he is of Trigonometry. It's an easy trade-off. “Are you okay? Isn’t your suit supposed to protect you?”

“It is, but... holy... I’ve hit concrete softer than your windows,” she whines. “What the hell is with your windows? It’s a meter thick or something, it has to be. That impact was so hard that i clicked my jaw.”

“The first time Stormy Weather hit, back in middle school, my window broke and never got fixed.” Yeah. Mister bug was kinda in the middle of being sick that day. He could barely get to the Akuma in time, of course he didn’t miraculous cure anything. As soon as he healed the butterfly, he hopped right back into bed and wasted away. He hadn't even noticed the window problem until the time to recover Paris was over. “Dad got a guy to install a new window.”

Maybe. Somebody had come into his room to repair it, but he was far too delirious to recognize anything other than vague shapes. He'd never been so disoriented in his life during that fever, to the point where he was sure that Master Fu had shown up even though the man feigns dead most of the time whenever he brings it up. Even Tikki stays quiet about it, giving a little shrug.

Kitty exclaims: “Being rich has its perks, doesn't it? It’s bulletproof! My foot is gonna be broken for the rest of my life! Not even hexleather kept me safe from that, holy dicks!”

“It’s kitty-proof,” he snorts.

"What's your dad have against me?"

"Nothing that I know of? Maybe he doesn't want his only son to be whisked away on adventures with a superhero."

"Why? I'm a nice gal."

"I don't know what goes on in my dad's head, I'll be honest." It's a sad sentiment, but seeing his Kitty flop over in distress makes the tightness in his chest unravel like string. “Come here. Let’s get you to the couch. We can ice over the suit, yeah?”

She perks up instantly. Her ears go straight as she looks up at him, dropping her foot out with a heavy clunk, like Kitty is made out of cinderblocks and not air. "Ooh. Yeah, ice sounds nice. Carry me?"

"Wh-- Kitty, the couch is right there. You could hop and you'd be there."

"I'm injured. I have no foot. My toes have gone missing."

He bursts out laughing, clutching his sides, as Kitty continues to meow her pains and sorrows like she's singing. "I can't believe you're this whiny."

"My foot is in so much pain that I don't think I'll ever be able to walk again." She flops onto the floor, spreading her arms and legs into a star position, looking up to the ceiling. "My crime-fighting days are over."

"Because of a window?"

She nods, sighing to herself. "Because of a window. Hawkmoth couldn't beat me, but a stupid window... please, my dear Prince, carry this damsel in distress to a place of safety?"

As if Kitty would ever be a damsel in distress. Her? Kitty? The one who sees an Akuma and instead of running away she runs towards it? Sure, sometimes she does it without thinking, so impulsive that he has to grab her by the scruff of her collar when he's Mister Bug, and make sure she pays attention to his idea and plans, but even still-- Kitty has never been a damsel in distress. He can joke about it all he wants, but it's pointless-- it's more likely that she'd be the one to save him, black hexleather and all, from something dangerous. A few things come to mind. Sharks. Two sharks. Many sharks. An Akuma with sharks for hands. "I think, if anything, you'd be the night in shining armor than me."

She props herself up on her elbows to look at him, barking out a laugh that makes him feel comfortable and warm. Her grin is huge, full of teeth, full of that explosive humor that crinkles her mask into joy, something that curls hard in his stomach at the sight. "Ha! Good one, Sunshine! I liked that one."

"Are you going to get up? Your couch awaits."

"If you carry me," she teases, wiggling her mask up and down with her eyebrows.

"Are you serious?"

"Like the plague."

"Fine, okay, hold on. Let me pick you up without you acting like a dead body. Wrap your legs around my hips, here--" and he grabs her, of course, finding it way too easy to wrap Noire's legs around his hips. She clings to him like a monkey, braid whipping around with them when he lifts her higher with an arm underneath her thighs, giving out a laugh that bubbles out of her as she clambers up towards his shoulders. "Better?"

She weighs like nothing. It's strange-- Adrien doesn't really want to spend a lot of time thinking about this, but he's watched his Kitty body Akumas about the size of fridges with these same exact legs. Wrapping the backs of her knees against a man's neck, twisting her body, using her lower center of gravity in order to flip people twice as tall as her down to the ground...

She weighs like nothing.

How? How is she so talented at something she shouldn't be able to do?

Her claws are long and sharp but harmless against his shoulders as she rights herself into a better sitting position, going quiet for a second or two, humming to herself at whatever she sees. He tries not to stumble, tries not to take in the way she automatically purrs as she grips him tight, nuzzling into his forehead with her cheek as a thanks. Her tail, semi-sentient thing, wraps around his middle and attempts to squeeze.

He can't breathe. Not because of the tail, though.

It's hard to remember that Kitty is a girl. Okay, obviously he knows that she's a girl. He knows that her laughter is girlish, and that she's interested in makeup, and that she does her homework in glittery pens. He knows that she doodles hearts in her notes, because he'll find some of them in his notebook after she's spent the entire day over, silly little pictures of cats and bugs and princes and princesses written over his displacement formulas for Physics.

But it's hard to remember that... it's hard to remember Kitty being a girl girl when he knows her so well. She refuses to mix her food and eats her spaghetti first and then her meatballs. She overdoses on sugary coffees. She's admitted to kissing Mister Bug's abs inside of her special edition magazine, and has written poetry about him.

Yeah, she's a girl. But she's also just... Kitty.

"I'm so much taller now," she remarks, completely ignoring the way he turns darker and darker the longer he holds her, trying not to lose his mind at girl, girl, girl, being pressed up against him. "Is this what you see at your height?"

"Welcome to the world of tall people," he grins. Play it cool. Play it cool. "You like it?"

"It's so much better. I'm King of the world up here. How much would I have to pay you in order to have you carry me around like this for the rest of my life? I want to be tall for the rest of my life."

"Maybe smack Viperion in the face a little, too, now that you can reach?"

"God, I love you," she laughs. If she notices him darkening even more, she doesn't mention it at all. "You're speaking my language, Sunshine. You're my best friend forever."

-*-

DL Marinette falls and hits her kneecaps on the wooden floorboards in their apartment. One second she was walking down their hallway from the magic room into the living room right in front of Luka, the next, she was on the floor on her hands and knees. Luka didn’t even have time to blink before she was on the ground, and she looks dazed as if she was thinking to herself about how she got there.

There's an aftershock. It bleeds through him like a chill, that wave of magic pushing up against the walls of their apartment. He's seen this happen before, when something about Marinette just cracks and her magic escapes. Like gas from a pipe-- it's so similar-- he already starts looking around to see what she's accidentally changed around them on complete accident.

The rug looks newer. There's more purple and more green in it now. The design is still the same, but it looks newer, fresher, just made, instead of hundreds of years old. He doesn't have to look up to know that the lightbulb in the hallway has been changed to something different, and yet he finds himself giving a little smile at the sight of an architect's dream of a ceiling light hanging above them. It's gold, thin, like it's a branch of a tree with lightbulbs instead of leaves. An interesting choice.

Oh, and of course, she bleeds instantly. Clearly god wants her to just feel it instantly. She feels that ache as she tries to move, how her shoulders and hips are stiff from the impact. Her phone’s tossed, too, down the hall about a meter away, telling her she’s running out of time for the level she’s trying to complete, but Luka barely pays attention to it while he collects her from the ground. Picking up the pieces that make up a Marinette isn't usually so complicated, but she seems insistent on not moving, only whining out: “How the fuck—”

"Up," he tells her.

"Ow, ow. Wait. Give me a second, this really hurts."

Hmm. Interesting. "You break something?"

"Just my ego," she groans. "Jesus. Not to mention that my magic is still going all fireworky. My body feels like a seltzer. Carbonated water from how fuzzy it is."

"Are you getting the pricklies from it, too?"

"The pricklies? That's fun, I like that-- oh, I know. A bath fizzy. That feeling of a bath fizzy dissolving in your hand in the tub."

He knows what she means.

“I get you. How did you do that? How'd you actually fall over?” he asks when he successfully picks her up from behind by the hips. She wobbles in his grip, like her legs are made of rubber and dough, and leans into him instinctually like she knows he'll stabilize her. Her head hits up against his sternum, looking at him with wide eyes like she's disoriented. “You were walking totally normally. You okay, Mousey? Want me to ask how many fingers I have up?”

“I’m fine, I'm totally fine, I just... scraped my knees, I guess?” she looks down to the reddened, ruby skin. It’s not a lack of glamour. There's a trail already of blood steadily leaking down her shin, and Marinette lifts her leg at an angle so that she doesn't drip on the rug she just ended up using magic to make new again. “Oh, ow, oh fuck that’s going to be such a bitch to disinfect. Ah, no, not the rug-- hold on, ah! Don't stain the rug, Meimei!”

He picks her up again into his arms. Her head snaps up, a thankful smile on her face, her arms wrapping around him for support as he walks her out of the hallway.

“What happened? Did an ancient artifact break?” Adrien comes out of the kitchen, meeting them in the living room, a teasing look on his face. He pockets his whisk into one of his apron holes as Marinette snorts, trying to look busy.

"Very funny, Kitty-cat."

"I like the new look of the hallway," he teases with a grin, following them as Luka sets her back down. "Mid-century modern?"

"Our old boob light was causing me grief," she deadpans. The scent of her blood makes Luka's nose sting, something raw and wrong about it, almost to the point that it hurts. He recoils from it, just enough to give her some space to look back down at her legs, completely unaware that Luka's blinking a stinging tear out of his eye-- but Marinette just... laughs. She just laughs at her injuries. It's light, airy, completely diffusing the weirdness and strangeness of what just happened with a smile.

"What broke?"

"Just my kneecaps. I'm thinking about wearing knee guards for the rest of my life. Sexy, isn't it?"

"I've always liked the idea of dating a volleyball player," Adrien adds softly. "You're too short, though."

"I don't know. I've been told I'm pretty good with balls." She cackles when Adrien flattens his face, going to go pick up her discarded phone back in the hallway.

"You hitting doors and chairs is one thing, little one, but you completely just slipped. Can we talk about it? Are you okay?" Who would've guessed that Marinette actually has faulty motor control?

"I'm fine--"

"You're not sick again, are you?" Adrien asks. He fiddles with the game on her phone, trying to match up a couple of the patterns for her so that she doesn't lose the level-- the prince is always so much quicker and swifter to learn and strategize and plan ahead. Who knew that centuries of military training would accumulate to him being able to play mobile games so efficiently he gets top scores?

"Not sick."

"Princess..."

"No. No. I'm not sick, I swear." She grabs for Luka's arm before he even moves. "Don't you dare get the honey out."

"I wasn't--"

Her eyes go dark. "You're lying. I can feel it. Luka doGooder--"

"--'Do gooder'?--"

"Don't you dare lie to me and get the honey. I'll go searching for a way to turn myself into a human if I even see a spoon come out and touch near my mouth."

"Why'd you fall over, then, if you're not sick?"

"I don't know, I have no idea why that happened." She shrugs. "Glitch in my brain? Thinking too much about dicks? Didn't watch where I was going?"

"You haven't been this lost since we've known you. You've been acting strange ever since your fever broke the last time."

"I'm fine. I'm not sick anymore, and there's definitely nothing wrong. I promise. Maybe I'm a little disoriented, but..." She definitely looks dazed. Her eyes are unfocused, slightly crossed, and she wipes at her eyes to get them to straighten again. "Totally healthy. No honey. I beg you, no honey. I might have lost some bone-density, but that's fine-- who needs them in this modern age?"

Luka's not convinced, though. And one look over to Adrien tells him that the prince isn't convinced, either.

-*-

Fire Lily Petals Marinette falls ontop of Chat.

"I am so sorry!" she squeaks out, struggling to untangle herself from him. There's ribbon and string all over them-- the basket on the shelf completely upturned when she'd tried grabbing for it in an attempt to stabilize herself. "Oh Tikki, I am so sorry, Chat. Are you hurt?"

"Not hurt."

"Your arm-- oh, Chat, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-- you took most of the impact, didn't you? How is your head? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he asks back, blinking up at her, wincing when another ball of yarn falls off the shelf and bounces onto the rug just to their side. He looks back at her, pulling her hair away from her shoulder in order to stop its attempt to curtain them. His hand finds nothing but glossy strands. There is no silk in the world that feels as soft as her hair-- he'd be stupid if he didn't admit that his other hand isn't tightening on the thinnest part of her waist because it feels natural. She molds into him in the way that wine accompanies bread. "What were you doing with that ladder, my Lady? You knew it was too old and overworked. You were the one to even mention how it was old enough to be my uncle."

As if the ladder's heard them, it dashes to make a fall on top of them-- Marinette stops it with magic blistering out of her hands that makes Chat's mouth taste fuzzy and his tail fluff out. The ladder seizes, glowing a bright haze from her magic as she snatches it from midair. She angles her hand in a way to push the ladder back up against the shelves, gently receding her magic back into her palms, lowering it until there's nothing causing his tail to plume. Concern written all over her face, she's quiet when reaching behind his head to check for anything damp.

He doesn't smell blood.

And yet, it's hard to smell anything at all, when he's got an arm-full of his witch on top of him. He feels electric with her gentle touches, and he knows that if he were in his cat form he'd be running about, trying to lose the jitters and the energy building up between the joints of his bones.

Luckily, he is no cat at the moment. He's simply demon. Just large enough to cushion them and make sure she doesn't slip and hurt herself-- truly, what kind of a familiar would he be, if Marinette had simply just sprained her ankle while being in his own house? What kind of a mess would that be?

He purrs in her hands, breath escaping him, leaving him accosted and alone, with nothing to do but stare at her as she checks him for an injury he's certain he doesn't have. He squints when she curls his hair between her fingers, feeling shy from how his foot kicks out on instinct, but does absolutely nothing as his trembling fingers follow the contour the columns of whalebone inside her stays create. He's careful with his claws. Even now, receeded as he is, he knows better than to be careless with his love.

The idea that he could hurt her, even if on accident, is too much to bear. She's nothing but paper-thin. Glassine. Gossamer.

"Oh. Well. I'll be honest... I thought the ladder could still support my weight," she bites her tongue between her teeth, something pretty stamping across the bridge of her nose that makes her freckles disappear. Scrambling to sit up is no use, the string and yarn are tied around them both, so she stays still, picking ribbons out of her hair so gently, wrapping the ribbons around her fingertips to tie them into knots and bows and organizing, only to stop and look at him shyly. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I was so... stupid."

"It was an accident," he smiles. "I'd hate for you to get injured."

"I trust you to know the irony is not lost on me," she groans. "You're not bleeding, thank the stars, but you look rather... dazed...? Headaches, Kitty-cat?"

"No. No headaches. I'm perfectly clear at the moment."

"Is it me, then? Am I crushing you?"

"No. Not you. You weigh less than you think," he murmurs, sliding his empty hand up her side. He cannot feel her warmth from how many layers she wears, but it seems as if she can feel him from the way she shudders, something escaping her mouth that makes his ears twitch. "Even with all of your layers, you weigh as if you're made out of silk. You feel like silk."

She purses her lips. "I weigh just enough, thank you. How's your arm?"

He looks back up at her. "I'm not made of glass, my Lady."

Something hurt starts to flash in her eyes, knowing what he's implying. "Chat..."

"My arm is fine."

"Your arm is injured," she frowns. "Shattered."

"I'm very aware."

"And here I am, putting weight on you when you shouldn't even be out of bed."

"Princess, it's alright. I'm not dazed because of..." Oh. Oh. The stringed beads in her hair finally fall forward just enough to click and jingle above him-- he lets go of her hair in order to pick it off of her, letting her hair drape over them. It's quiet, in this little moment, and he knows that his fortune means that they'll be walked in on soon, because the Universe grants Chat many things, including terrible timing... but he's allowed to have this bit of reprieve. They both are. He won't push-- he definitely doesn't have enough strength to, not yet, with his shattered arm and bruised mental state-- but being able to hold her is just enough. She's the gentleness that he craves. "Alright, I'll admit. It might be you. I might be a little dazed because of you."

"It's because I'm crushing you?"

"No. I'm just thinking about how thankful I am to have you."

She softens in his arms, something lulling and quiet in her eyes. Honey. Molasses.

"How is it that you've broken every rule possible for me and continue to be so lovely?" he asks her.

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard that people who break the cardinal rules of magic end up transforming into something unwanted, and yet I find myself yearning for you anyway."

"I have a god's preferential treatment," she teases. "Two, actually. I gave them a son. Perhaps they're being lenient with me and not punishing me for breaking the rules. Although, that's not to say I'm not transforming because of my... disobedience, either."

They share a laugh.

"You're so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair."

"It'll be all the rage back in Paris. Alix will love it."

"Marinette?"

"Yes?" her eyes narrow. "You look like you're building up to a joke. Don't you dare."

"Tell me, and don't lie-- did you fall for me, Princess?" he grins, something wide and stupid looking, going still when she kisses him to shut him up. Just long enough to get him to tighten his hands on her waist. Just short enough to stop anyone from accidentally walking in on them, because the Universe always wants to ruin a Chat's day.

"Unfortunately," she muses, when she pulls away for a laugh. "Far too much, too."

-*-

Locker Talk Marinette...

She's drunk. It's so obvious. She sways on the Liberty with a bottle of something in her hand, grinning at him with absolutely no shyness at all. He likes seeing her all happy, all squinty-eyed and flushed. She's world's sweetest girl when she's drunk.

"Where's Rose?" she asks when he's close enough to catch her by the elbows before she tips over and conks her head on the deck. She's like liquid, all squirmy, damp and ridiculously attractive in her tight jeans and blouse. Her hair is out of that high pony she'd put it in earlier tonight, just as shiny as her cheekbones. "I told Rose that I would fix her skirt for her."

"What happened to her skirt?"

"She caught it on one of the chairs out here, the one that I--"

"--the one that you keep telling me to throw away because 'it could give someone Tetanus', yeah, I know--"

"--yes, that one! She has a rip in the tulle part. I said I would sow it for her but she's gone missing? Is she with Jules?"

"I have no idea, but I'm not letting you get near a needle when you're like this," he laughs, attempting to pry the bottle out of her hands.

"Why not?"

He catches her on the waist with a snort when her knees buckle. "That's why, Mousey. You can barely stand up."

"Pfft. This? This? I'm fine."

The music is loud, hot, and humid, and their neighbors know better at this point than to go complaining about it to the cops. They don't even have to pay them anymore. They're usually on board with his friends, exchanging popular bottles of wine and stories. Or playing games.

Speaking of.

There's a card game going on below the deck, and he can hear the cheers as someone wins and someone loses, raking in the chips from one side of their kitchen table to the other-- knowing the sound of the loudest cheerer, it sounds like it's his mother. She's always so excited when there's a party on the Liberty, always so happy to see her two kids being extroverted even though they're anything but.

Honestly, people always clock him as the one who's going out and partying and making friends. He's approachable in a way that Viperion just isn't, which makes people gravitate towards him. But his little sister, Juleka, is much more extroverted than him.

The things he does for his friends...

They're everywhere all over the houseboat. Playing cardgames, winning money, reloading their cups with safe booze-- no one here is someone they don't know. And by now, their neighbors come over so often, they might as well be considered friends too.

He can hear Alix and Max tinkering with one of the amps to make it louder. He knows that Mullo and Sass are hiding in his mother's room, probably in her closet, just to make sure that none of their friends find them-- poor Sass. The noise must be critical to him.

But honestly... he wouldn't have it any other way.

He leans over, talking into her ear and over the noise: "You having fun tonight?"

"The best part about the Kitty Section concerts are the afters." And he knows she means it. His poor girlfriend is always so strung up and anxious before his shows, wanting to make sure that everything is in order. It's how she cares about him and his work, always putting it as her most important item of the day if she isn't doing anything else. She's first one to get to the concerts, last one to leave...

Always running herself to the ground, just to make sure that everything is perfect. He just wants to kiss her until she complains.

So he does. He's not drunk, not like her, and he doesn't have that hazy, stampy blush on his face like her, but he's just buzzed enough to feel euphoric when he tips her head back and presses their lips together. Soft, gentle, sweet, even though his girlfriend's trying to dance and sway to the music that's playing, it's a pretty nice night. He kisses her, over and over again, until she squirms out of the way he cups her jawline, yelling out the words to the song with perfect accuracy. She refuses to believe she can sing, which is such a shame.

It's so pretty.

Just as he successfully snags the bottle out of her hands, she uses the opportunity to slide her fingers underneath his shirt, teasing out a hiss from him with a smile and a laugh.

"We should go to your room," she hums, batting her lashes up at him. She finds his abs, heated fingers grazing his front, all the way up to the chest.

All he can do is raise a brow. "How many have you had?"

She makes a noise, not quite a eh, not quite a nah, but something in between. A nyem. He has no idea what to make of it. "A bit."

"Are you even sober right now?"

"I could win against Hawkmoth right now, if that's what you're saying. Kick his patootie. Papillion...ootie."

Not her best. But endearing nonetheless.

He grins at her when she grabs onto one of his necklaces, just enough to pull him down to kiss her again. There's humming involved, just as she slides her tongue into his mouth-- he pulls away when there's a hand on his belt. "Nope. Nope. You're way too drunk for what you want to do."

"But I always want you," she pouts as he puts her bottle on the glass table. "Sober or not, it doesn't make a difference to me, I always want to kiss and love you and put my hands down your pants--"

"--so you admit you're not sober?"

She doesn't let him savor the mini-win for long, pouting and plumping up her lips in a way his sight pin-holes onto just how pretty her mouth is. It's just so pink. "Get drunk with me so we can both have drunk makeouts? It'll be so good. Lots of tongue. Teeth. Use your teeth."

Mmmmm. "That is absolutely not what you're planning in that head of yours."

"I want to kiss you."

And yet. "Your hand is very much on my jeans at the moment, isn't it?"

"I want kisses. Other things, too, but I want you. Teeth, neck, my neck, hickey? What do you think?"

Well. It sounds fucking delicious. "I--"

"It's a good plan," she nods her head, hard enough to pop a screw loose. "It's so good. Such a good plan. I have it all ready in my head and it's such a good plan. Get drunk with me so we're in the clear and can goof off in your room?"

"'In the clear'? It doesn't matter. Anyway, I don't think that's how that works? I think the rules are--"

"--do we need rules?"

She's definitely more drunk than he thought, if she's trying to break the rules. She's a goody-two-shoes, after all. Docile little Marinette...

Jesus Christ. He can't believe he's saying this. "You're dehydrated from all the alcohol, so we'd need lube."

"That's fine, I don't mind lube, you know I don't--"

"We ran out yesterday, remember?"

She quiets. "Oh, sugarsnaps. We could just--"

"Nope. That would hurt you. Also, you're still drunk."

"Teeth. I'll settle on teeth. Mouth. Teeth. Transform into Viperion for me."

"Mousey."

"Please," she whines. "Come on, please? Bite bite bite? Hickey? Kisses. Smooch. Love me?"

"Let's get some food into you," he laughs. "I'll love you when you're well-fed, not as drunk, and aren't stumbling in my arms all over the place. Come on."

[lovemeleo]

I would love to see Sirius Remus and Asher going to Nuny's to check up on Jackson and then Asher is all adorable with the cats

Thanks so much for this prompt, anon! I got so excited as soon as I saw it. Get to combine my baby Asher with my favorite Nuny boys. I hope you enjoy it! These characters and their world (except for Asher) belong to the always amazing @lumosinlove. 

If you haven’t read the rest of the Asher Pascal series, here’s the link!

***

“Now remember Ash, just because Uncle Nado doesn’t have the cast anymore doesn’t mean you can jump all over him.” Sirius said, glancing back at his son through the rearview mirror.

Asher nodded, clutching at his Lions stuffie as he stared out the window, “‘Cause he’s still hurtin’.” 

Smiling, Remus reached back to pat the little boy’s foot, “That’s right, bub.” 

Asher had been there for the game when Nado got hurt, and had been worried ever since. They’d already talked to him about how a lot of his family played hockey, and sometimes they got hurt. He had understood that but talking about it is a lot different than seeing it in front of your very eyes. The almost two year old had been itching to visit Jackson, but Sirius and Remus wanted to give him more time to heal up. So Asher video chatted with Nado whenever he could, going on about his day and whatever other things happened to pop into his head. He also gave Kuny drawings and get well cards, as well as one of his favorite stuffed animals to give to Nado until he could visit. Jackson teared up a bit when Kuny brought the gifts home, but he’ll deny it.

Now after two months, today was finally the day. Jackson had gotten his cast off a few days before and the Black-Lupin clan was given the OK to come visit.

Asher was wiggling in his seat as soon as Sirius put the car in park, a new drawing clutched in his hands, “C’monnnn. Time to get out!”

“Alright, let me get my seatbelt off first, jeez.” Remus said with a laugh before he climbed out. As soon as Asher was unbuckled, he made a break for the door but Sirius grabbed him quickly, throwing him over his shoulder. Wild giggles came from Asher as he held onto his daddy, dangling upside down over his back.

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, but it was mostly fond, “Be careful. We don’t need anyone else in casts.” Sirius looked back at him with a smile, blowing the other man a kiss before knocking on the door.

After a brief pause, there was some talking from behind the door before Kuny swung open, “Sorry, I should have asked. Do you have allergies?” 

“Like food allergies?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows furrowed at the strange greeting as he moved Asher onto his hip.

Kuny shook his head as he pushed something behind the door away with his foot, “No, no food. Like animals.”

Then a voice came from inside the house, “Cats. He wants to know if you’re allergic to cats!” Nado yelled. Kuny glanced back, giving him a look.

“You got a cat?” Remus asked, peeking behind Kuny curiously. “And no, we’re not allergic to cats. Asher has a habit of trying to steal them though when we help at the shelter.”

Nodding, Kuny moved back to let them in, “We got cats. And I would steal too.” He said with a grin as he stole Asher from Sirius’s arms, leading them to the living room where Nado was waiting. Asher clung to him happily, his arms wrapping around the giant man’s neck.

Nado grinned, holding Milo up like he was Simba in the Lion King, “Kuny took me to a cat café after I got my cast off, and we ended up getting attached.” He said, bringing the kitten back down so he could nuzzle him back into his neck.

“Uncle Nadooooooooo!” Asher squealed as soon as he saw his other uncle. Kuny set him down next to the couch. “I drew you this picture, it’s got me and you and Uncle Zhenya!”

Carefully taking the drawing, Jackson smiled as he ruffled Asher’s hair, “It’s great, dude. Can’t wait to hang it up.”

Asher smiled big, but his eyes quickly scanned over his Uncle as if to check him over, “You ‘kay?” He asked, looking up from the boot.

“I’m doing much better now. The boot’s a lot more comfy than the cast.” Nado said with a soft smile, pulling Asher onto the couch next to him. Milo peered down at the new little person and started to scamper his way down Nado’s chest. “Seems like Milo wants to meet you.”

Remus leaned forward from his spot on the opposite couch, smiling as the small gray ball of fluff sniffed curiously at Asher, “He’s so cute.”

The kitten nuzzled into Asher’s hand, letting out a soft purr as he made himself comfortable on the small boy’s lap.

“Wait… did you say cats? As in plural?” Sirius asked, glancing around the room.

Kuny nodded, before he got up, “I grab Pumpkin. One second.” He said before heading to their room.

Petting his hand gently down the small kitten’s back, Asher looked up at his dads with a big smile, “He’s so soft. And tiny!”

“Yeah, Milo is the smallest of the bunch. He’s our little guy.” Jackson smiled, gently scratching under the kitten’s chin before he handed Asher one of the toys, it had a long stick with a string attached that had a small fish toy on the end.  “He likes this one. If you just drag it back and forth, he’ll chase it.”

Asher took the toy, trailing the small fish toy back and forth. Milo scampered after it, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep up with the fish toy.

Kuny came out of their bedroom not long after, carrying what looked to be a mass of orange fluff in his arms, “This is my Pumpkin.” He may have been smiling but the entirety of his face was covered by Pumpkin’s fluff.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh as he watched his friend try to sit next to his boyfriend when he very obviously couldn’t see. 

“To the left a bit, babe.” Nado said, a fond smile spreading on his face as he pulled Kuny to sit down next to him before looking at their friends. “He got attached to her so we couldn’t leave her behind.”

Pumpkin let out an indignant meow as Kuny set her down on the floor by his feet, her tail swishing behind her as she made her way to where Sirius and Remus sat.

“You guys know you don’t have to take the cats with you when you visit cat cafes right?” Sirius teased, gently running his fingers through Pumpkin’s soft fur as she brushed against his legs.

Kuny laughed, resting his arm behind Nado as he leaned back into the couch, “They choose us, we just can’t refuse them.” He said, a soft smile spreading on his face.

Shaking his head, Remus reached to pet Pumpkin who had sprawled across Sirius’s lap, “So we leave you guys alone for a couple weeks and come back to you adopting two cats.”

“Three.” 

Their heads whipped up to look at Nado who was smirking, “We got three cats.. And well the last one. It was more like he adopted us.”

Asher looked up from where he was nuzzling into Milo’s fur, “Where’s the other kitty?”

As if he heard them talking about him, Loki let out a loud meow from the kitchen, followed by another long one.

Kuny and Nado sighed, sharing a glance as Kuny got up, “Probably stuck on fridge. Again.” 

“You spoil him, Zhenya. He’s big enough to get down by himself, but he knows you’ll come get him.” Nado said, shaking his head.

Eyebrows furrowed, they watched Kuny wander into the kitchen. Remus could hear soft whispering, but it was in Russian so he had no clue what the man was saying.

Nado looked over at them, “Loki jumps on the fridge if he feels that he’s not getting enough attention from Zhenya. And he stays up there until he comes and gets him.” 

Kuny came back in, followed by a massive cat who was trailing as close to the Russian as possible without stepping on his feet. 

“Jesus Fu-..” Sirius said, cutting himself off with a glance at his son.

Asher’s eyes were wide as he looked at the new cat, “Uncle Nado, you got a jaguar?!”

Laughing, Kuny picked Loki up, cradling him in his arms like a massive furry baby, “No jaguar, Ash. Just big kitty.” The massive cat nuzzled into Kuny’s chest as he sat back on the couch, letting out a loud purr now that he finally had his human’s attention. 

“He’s a maine coon cat actually, they think he’s around one or two years old.” Jackson said, reaching over to scratch at Loki’s head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “So he’s still growing?” He asked as the giant cat stretched out, sprawling across Nado and Kuny’s laps but his eyes were on the newcomers. “I’m feeling vaguely threatened.”

Kuny shook his head, “Nah, Loops, no threat. He's a big cuddle bug. You can pet him, Ash. Let him sniff you.” He said, as the little boy handed Milo off to Nado. 

Asher moved slowly, holding his hand out for Loki to smell his hand. The big cat watched the tiny human curiously, sniffing at his hand before he got up. The tiny human had a small lap but it would have to do. Loki flopped down into Asher’s lap, almost covering him completely as the cat let out a loud purr. Asher’s face lit up as he looked between his parents and his uncles.

“He likes me!” Asher said happily as Loki curled up, nuzzling up into the little boy’s neck. Remus couldn’t help himself as he pulled out his phone, snapping pictures of Asher and Loki. 

Smiling, Nado set Milo back onto his shoulder, “Well, I’m not surprised he likes you, dude. Loki’s a good judge of character.” Asher held the giant cat closer, his massive grin partially hidden in Loki’s fur.

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he saw the happiness on Asher’s face, “Dammit… now we’re gonna have to get a cat.”

Letting out a laugh, Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s head. He couldn’t even disagree at this point.

Guess they should start looking at shelters. 

[kazewhara]

Ive actually got nothing for kitty xiao.. i didn’t think it through🙃 but i do have kitty hcs:

If kitty!Qiqi sees you sitting crisscrossed on the floor or somehwere she can reach, she will always, always come over and cuddle up in the spot in between your legs(..these cats are my cats, i should just send in what my fur children do)

kitty!qiqi who is friends with that injured flinch you took in.

familiar, cat thing!xiao who would sometimes be back to his human form, and when he is, Qiqi will climb to the top of smth so she can flop onto his head

prince!kazuha who was cursed or snth and turned into a cat that likest to be up high too. If you have a swing and go on it, he will waltz over and purr with those doe eyes and he will meow until you pick him up. He just wants to be on the swing, it feel’s like he’s flying

(↑ albedo probably accidentally made kazuha a feline— maybe klee distracted him or something.)

Burny girl Klee, who oneday got bold and gathered up the cats and sat them in front of her, where she stood tall and pointed her small index finger at them, claiming they were now hers. “You, and you, are Klee’s now! ..Big sisterrrr! Can i keep the kitties??”

-🦫 okay, im blanking now..

EEE THE AU MAKES ITS WEEKLY COMEBACK 💕💞💕💞

kazuha would take full advantage of the cat thing after the initial shock wears off.. and xiao probably goes out of his way to antagonize him in very subtle ways, like making things inaccessible because kazuha still doesn't have the hang of this whole "being a cat" thing

ALSO QIQI 🥺💞💕💞💕💞 THIS IS CUTE

[sing-a-sirensong]

Venomous

A Reed900 Venom AU I had rattling around in my brain, thanks to Discord.

Summary: Gavin’s strange new “roommate” has some questions about human behaviour. Rating: E Warnings: None

On AO3 here

—��—————

Some people have their entire lives planned out. Others have no plans at all, just letting life take them in any direction it happens to go. Either way, “expect the unexpected” is a commonly spoken phrase. Unexpected changes are a fact of life, all just a part of the human experience. However, there are some events that seem so far out of the realm of possibility that one might wonder about the existence of some giant cosmic joke. 

Gavin Reed is not the type of man to wax philosophical, or question some cosmic order, or think about his place in the universe beyond being a damn good detective. Right now, in fact, he’s pondering little more than what to eat for dinner as he stands idly waiting at a crosswalk. Music plays a little too loudly in his earbuds. 

Chinese again? Gavin wonders, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. Maybe pizza. Got one of those coupon books in the mail. 

He’s pulled from his musings by a touch against his shoulder, an accidental bump by another pedestrian crossing the opposite direction. Gavin turns his head as they walk away, allowing himself a brief up-and-down glance at the retreating figure. Tall, fitted slacks, legs a mile long. Fuck. Gavin thinks, I haven’t gotten laid in ages. 

Gavin.

He sighs tiredly, pausing his music. He’s gotten so used to the internal commentary by now that he doesn’t even feel surprised anymore when his new… roommate pipes up. 

“Yeah tar pit?” He answers, out loud. He fiddles absently with his earphones, grateful for the wonders of modern technology that keep him from looking like a complete lunatic talking to himself.

Having offspring now would be very inconvenient. 

“W-What?” Gavin stutters, taken off guard by the odd choice of topic. “Dude, what the fuck are you talking about.” A mild annoyance that was not his own filtered into his mind. 

That other human. You considered procreating with them.

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That isn’t- ok first of all, don’t call it that. And second of all, this isn’t a conversation to have in public. Just wait five minutes until we get home.” The feeling of annoyance settled slightly, and his head was quiet again. 

Less than five minutes later, in the elevator to his apartment, the peace was broken.

We should not have pizza for dinner again. It is not healthy for us to have such an unvaried diet.

Gavin sighs again, something he seemed to do a lot more frequently now. He steps off the elevator, walking down the hall. 

“Alright, how about the chicken alfredo from that place around the corner?” He suggests, unlocking the door and stepping in, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. “I’ll even get it with broccoli so we can eat one whole vegetable.”

Can we get the chocolate lava cake? 

Gavin snorts, warm fondness settling in his chest. “Yeah buddy, we can get the chocolate lava cake.”

Excellent. 

A cantankerous meow signals the presence of Princess Peanut; Gavin’s crotchety, cranky, three-legged very senior cat. She stares up at him with two murky orange eyes and lets out another raspy howl. How rude of him to set foot in his own home and not pay attention to her immediately upon arrival. 

Gavin feels the now-familiar sensation of Nines manifesting physical form, a feeling akin to peeling tape or glue off of your skin, except it feels more everywhere. The odd creature Gavin now shares his body with leans down, bracing their weight on one hand and gently petting the cat with the other. It’s adorable, in a heartwarming, eldritch horror sort of way.

Nines appears to be a young man, looking almost human enough. Dark brown hair that sometimes slips into curling tendrils, blue-grey eyes that almost seem to glow, black stained nails that might be a little too sharp, gleaming white teeth that are definitely too sharp, and pale skin that’s just a touch too grey, fading into the swirling black mass at his hips where he emerges from Gavin’s torso. 

But as odd as it is, Gavin thinks this appearance is for his benefit. He knows that isn’t what Nines looked like the first time he showed himself to Gavin. He remembers it being almost… mechanical looking. All sharp lines, and sleek inky blackness. Two glowing eyes. Of course Gavin had been completely losing his mind at the time, in the middle of a (very understandable) breakdown, so his memories may be slightly exaggerated. 

Another grouchy meow jolts Gavin into motion, Nines retreating back under his skin.

“Alright you fucking Nut, I’m getting to it.” Gavin grumbles, opening a fresh tin for the princess’s dinner. He gives her a quick scratch under the chin, and leaves the kitchen to flop on the couch. 

Gavin.

He hums in acknowledgment, idly considering a nap before dinner. 

We are home.

“Yeah tar pit, we are.” He mumbles. 

We can continue the conversation about procreation now. 

Gavin’s eyes snap open, wide awake now. “Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Fuck, um.” He sits up, scraping his fingers roughly through his hair. “First of all, don’t call it that. It’s just sex. It’s not really about making babies or whatever, it’s to relieve tension. Because it just uh, feels good. Really good.” 

Unintentionally, Gavin remembers being bent over various pieces of furniture and fucked silly by his previous trysts. He flushes slightly with embarrassment, Nines definitely saw that. He’s still getting used to sharing a brain, sue him. 

An unconvinced murmur brings Gavin back to the present, Nines was apparently finished rifling through his sexual encounter memory catalogue.

The process of pursuing a sexual partner seems time-consuming and difficult. Why bother if it is not necessary? Your failures outnumber your successes. 

“Way to kick a guy when he’s down.” Gavin grumbles, but he knows the question is genuine and Nines has no malicious intent behind his statement. Nines simply thinks in terms of numbers; success and failure, yes and no, black and white. Gavin sighs. 

“I guess you technically don’t really need a partner, it’s just sometimes better when you’ve got one.” He explains, allowing Nines a very short glimpse of Gavin’s moments in bed or in the shower with just his hand for company. He can feel Nines consider this new information. 

A much more logical approach with a significantly higher success rate.

Gavin huffs out a laugh at Nines’ rational analysis, scratching idly at his chin.

“You’re not wrong.” He says. 

Show me.

“What?! No!” Gavin splutters, instinctively alarmed at the thought.

Why not?

“Because it’s fucking private, not some part of fascinating human culture to observe through a microscope!” A ridiculous point to make to someone that lives in his head and can read all his thoughts.

Gavin can practically feel the unimpressed look Nines is giving him.

Hm. It sounds like you are being a little bitch. 

Gavin barks out a surprised laugh. He’s clearly been a bad influence on Nines’ vocabulary. That warm fondness bubbles up in his chest again and he runs a hand through his hair. You know what, why the fuck not? His life is already so fucking weird, this might as well happen. 

“Shit, alright, why not.” He stands. “But we’re not gonna stay out here for this.” He closes the door behind him once he’s in the bedroom. Gavin does not want an untimely cat-shaped interruption. He strips down, tossing his clothes on the floor haphazardly, and lays flat on the bed. This, at least, isn’t unfamiliar territory. Nines has to be with him in the shower, and he’s merged with all his cells or whatever, so it’s not like he doesn’t know what Gavin looks like naked. 

Gavin relaxes into the sheets, one arm folded behind his head and the other palm resting on his stomach. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and tries to pretend this is just like any other time he’s jerked off. 

This is not very interesting.

Gavin can’t hold back his amused snort at the obviously unimpressed tone, but he feigns irritation anyways. “Yeah I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbles. 

He skims a hand down his belly, palming between his legs. This isn’t going to take long, he thinks, the barest touch and he’s already filling out from the anticipation of finally getting off.

Gavin eases into it, stroking slowly over hardening flesh. Pleasure sparks low in his belly, but doesn’t want to overwhelm Nines with too much too fast. But the mental feedback Gavin is receiving seems to just be curiosity at the new sensations, and steadily increasing interest. 

I think I am beginning to understand why humans choose to do this.

Gavin’s dick twitches at the low voice echoing in his head, and he laughs weakly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He jokes. 

On the next upstroke he twists his wrist, fingers tracing a vein along the underside. He bites back a small noise, forcing his breathing to stay even and trying to quell the simmering heat in his belly.

Do that again.

Gavin’s breath stutters at the abrupt demand, but he complies, hand speeding up and thumb smearing a pearl of precome over the sensitive head. His hips jump and the fingernails of his opposite hand dig into his palm. 

“Nines I- ahh, uhm,” Gavin pauses to swallow hard, “I’m not gonna- ah- not gonna last long. S’been a while.” He manages to grit out. Fuck he’s gonna have a hard time keeping quiet. 

His cock is getting slick in his grip, leaking steadily now. Gavin would feel embarrassed, if he thought Nines cared even a slight bit about how long he lasted. A groan escapes him on the next swipe over the tip, and Gavin brings his hand down from under his head and bites his knuckle to muffle the noises. 

I want to try.

Gavin wheezes like he’s been punched, nearly sitting straight up in shock. 

“You what?” He chokes out. But after the initial surprise of the request, Gavin is slammed with a wave of arousal at the thought of Nines touching him. He squirms in place a little. 

I want to touch you.

Gavin’s cock throbs in his grip. He can feel the hungry curiosity from Nines filtering through his mind, and yeah, fuck, why not. He settles back into the blankets, cautiously laying his hand by his side.

“Oh-kay, yeah alright.” He breathes. “Just be careful alright? Us humans are fucking fragile.”

I would never hurt you.

Gavin feels a pinch of emotion at the sincerity in his statement, and relaxes further into the bed. He gives Nines the mental go-ahead. 

A familiar sensation starts up on his skin, and Gavin looks down to see rippling darkness emerge and pool across his hips, brushing against his cock. Against his overheated skin, it’s fucking cold.

Gavin instinctively jerks his hips back and yelps. 

“Shit that’s cold, Nines, fuck.” An apologetic hum echoes through his mind, and Nines pauses briefly. He resumes his path after a moment and covers Gavin’s cock entirely, deliciously hot this time and squeezes. Gavin curses. 

Better?

“Yeah, fuck, how’d you do that?” He gasps, fingers gripping the sheets. 

Temperature regulation is imperative for survival.

The reply is offhanded, most of Nines’ focus now on consuming Gavin’s responses to his touch. 

Gavin groans, his head tilting back in the pillow. Christ it feels so good, hot and tight and slick. He moans raggedly, praise falling from his lips. 

“Just like that, fuck that’s- that’s good, keep going.” Nines trills happily at the praise, spreading further up Gavin’s abdomen. Curious tendrils flick at Gavin’s nipples, and his hands fly up, gripping the pillow above his head. Nines continues to play with his chest, and Gavin arches into his touch. 

The grip around his cock is scorching, twisting sweetly over the tip with every squeeze. Gavin squirms with pleasure, futilely thrusting his hips up.

More of Nines’ inky form skates greedily across his skin, drinking in every one of Gavin’s reactions. He twines up Gavin’s arms, winding around his wrists and through his fingers, pinning his arms above his head. 

Black tendrils slide down the inside of his thighs, and Gavin spreads his legs without realizing, rocking his hips desperately. Nines smoothes over his body, pressing Gavin’s thighs wider. Gavin lets out a whine, feeling filthy and on display. He tugs against the hold on his arms, whining again when there’s no give.

Gavin always had a thing for being manhandled but fuck, this was- fuck. 

“Oh God, fuck- ohhh don’t stop- baby don’t stop-” Gavin pleads. Nines is purring in his mind, eagerly devouring his pleasure, experiencing it with him.

Gavin keens at the feeling of something prodding at his entrance, nodding frantically and gasping when it presses inside. 

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, smooth and slick tendrils sliding into him and exploring, swelling inside him until he’s filled so perfectly. He shudders and clenches down, gasping at the fullness. 

Fuck, then Nines starts moving, not thrusting but pulsing, rubbing deliciously against his inner walls. Gavin moans with every movement, drooling onto the pillow as his throaty ah ah ah’s fill the room. 

Gavin’s drowning in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. But then Nines presses up firmly, directly into his prostate, squeezing around Gavin’s cock at the same time. Gavin very nearly wails, babbling desperately. 

“Oh fuck, baby I’m so close- Nines, please sweetheart, I’m gonna come- don’t stop, baby please don’t stop-” He begs, writhing in Nines’ all-encompassing hold. 

“Gavin.”

His name is growled out loud, Gavin hears it right next to his ear, not in his mind, and the faint scrape of sharp teeth on his throat tips him over the edge. 

Gavin‘s voice cracks on a sob, mewling Nines’ name as he comes in long, aching pulses. His toes curl as pleasure rips through him so strongly it almost hurts. He clenches down hard on the tendrils inside him, thighs trembling from the force of his orgasm. 

Nines keeps moving, drawing it out until Gavin is whimpering from oversensitivity, finally relenting. 

Gavin melts into the mattress when Nines releases him, completely boneless. Instead of vanishing beneath his skin, Nines settles across his body like a soothing, form-fitted blanket, petting affectionately at Gavin’s arms and shoulders. 

Fuck, Gavin’s never come that hard in his life.

Was my performance satisfactory?

The smugness radiating through their mental bond was almost palpable. 

“You’re fucking insufferable.” Gavin slurs, tremors still running intermittently through his muscles. 

Perhaps more practice will be needed.

Gavin’s spent dick twitches pathetically at the thought. “If you want.” He mutters hoarsely. Gavin definitely wants. But his eyelids are drooping, and he nestles down into the pillow. A faint question tugs at the edge of Gavin’s mind. “Nap first, food after.” He mumbles, “And I’ll get your lava cake.” A moment’s pause. 

… Can we get two lava cakes?

Gavin smiles fondly into the pillow, chuckling quietly at the timid question. 

“Yeah baby, we can get two lava cakes.”

[fbfh]

domestic cozy moments with leo - an anthology

i should really be asleep

aged up to 18+ obvs,,,, rlly wishing this was real rn lmao,,, also it’s fluff if u couldn’t tell 

1600 words

You set down your last box, hearing a thump in the next room as he sets his. You will your legs to carry you into the next room where he’s waiting, standing, looking at you. The glaring over head light still somehow makes him look good, and you can tell, by this point, that he’s thinking something similar about you. He pulls you closer with one strong comforting gesture, and you both flop unceremoniously down onto the bare mattress on the floor. You tuck the crook of your elbow over your face to block out the harsh light, and gently rub your face into the material of his shirt; a dark flannel over a deep red hoodie, some quote splashed across the chest. The arm wrapped around you bent, his hand brushing the hair at the top of your forehead. 

“We did it,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” you replied, “now we just gotta unpack everything.”

“And organize.”

“And decorate,” you add. There’s a beat of silence.

“God, this is gonna be a nightmare, isn’t it…” he laughs, head resting on top of yours. A slow, tired chuckle rocks your body. 

“Yeah, probably…”

You’ve both been up since about 4am, and have only just finished moving into your apartment. It’s around one or two in the morning. You’re beyond exhausted, the thrill of the move and shitty, delerious humor keeping you running for the last few hours. 

“Y’know what,” he moves, kicking off his shoes, “I say we just crash for the night. Deal with the rest of it in the morning.” He’s already mumbling, his voice groggy - groggier than before - and you can tell he’s losing orbit. Against your wishes, you make yourself sit up. You kneel over to a box a few feet away, and rip the tape off. You pull out a duvet, and shuffle back over to him. 

“Yeah,” you say, already slipping out of your sneakers and throwing some of the blanket over him, “sounds good.” You curl back into him, into a slightly more comfortable position, and start to settle down. 

“Shit,” he hisses, “the light.” You realize the light’s still on and groan.

“Oh god… we’re really that dumb,” you can feel the sleep deprived laughter taking over.

“Wait, wait,” he giggles, the infectious laugh spreading. He leans over, fumbling for the mop next to the broom and vacuum, and holds the flat head, the pole in between his fingers. You feel him shift, and pry your eyes open. He’s almost got it. You make some encouraging ‘oh, ooooh!’s as he lines up the loop at the top with the light switch on the wall and darkness engulfs you. He lays back down in a heap, setting the mop on the floor next to him. 

“Nice!” you press a kiss below his ear, the closest place you could reach, and he mutters sleepily, “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be signing autographs in half an hour,” laughter seeping into his words like a teabag in hot water as he pulls his hood up. Your limbs are already tingly with sleep. He mutters something you can’t make out, and you’re pretty sure you tried to ask what, but you don’t remember anything after that. You don’t know who fell asleep first, but you both slept really well that night. 

~

Your piping was migraine worthy. 

That’s what Leo had said after about a minute under your bathroom sink. 

You had noticed the water pressure in the sink got really weak after a day or two. Your apartment was pretty old, so it wasn’t surprising. 

“Should we call the superintendent?” you asked through a mouth of ramen. A smile hit his eyes, and you finished the thought he hadn’t said.

“To let him know,” you shoved his chest playfully, “I know you can fix it, that wasn’t a question.” It backed off, and instead he said, “You can try, but I’m pretty sure he’s one of those three-to-five-business-days types.” 

“Well, at least he’ll know what’s going on.” He still had that look. “I’ll tell him not to call a plumber. My boyfriend’s an engineer and can more than handle it.” He seemed satisfied, and grabbed his tools. 

“I’m just saying, I think I know a thing or two about this stuff…” You pulled the still ringing phone from your face. “Duh, you’re the-” the phone stopped ringing. Voicemail. You rolled your eyes as the beep sounded, and left a brief message explaining who you were and the situation. After you finished talking, you hung up. 

“God, I hate talking on the phone,” you mutter. You turn the corner to the bathroom doorway. 

“How’s it looking?” you lean on the door frame, and suppress a chuckle at the sight of your boyfriend laying on a skateboard under the bathroom sink. 

“This makes… no sense…” he muttered. “I mean, who- why would you put a dual check there?” You smiled, loving when he talked about his hyperfixations, even if it barely made sense to you. You decided to check back in a bit, and went to transfer some laundry. 

It had been a while. You had checked on Leo two or three times, and he was still doing something under there. He had come out once or twice to get some parts or piping from his supplies, then went straight back to work. If only you had a dollar for every time you heard him sigh, “there’s gotta be a better way to do this…” It’s been two hours and he needs a break. 

You walk back into the bathroom, step over him, and sit down, your hips right on top of his.

He stops.

He pushes you both out from under the sink, skateboard rolling slowly, his eyes locked with yours.

“Hello,”

“Hi,”

~

You just wanted to take out the trash, that was all. But when you entered the back alley and saw a little kitty cat looking so scared by the dumpster, you couldn’t stop your instincts. You set the trash down slowly, scooped up the cat, and marched back inside. You set her - or him? You weren’t sure yet. You set them in the bathroom, made a little nest of towels close to the radiator, and left, closing the door behind you. You came back in with a small storage bin with cat litter - which Leo luckily had on hand for absorbing oil spills in his garage - paper bowls with some tuna and water, and a small ball of yarn from a long since abandoned craft project. The kitty ate all the tuna in record time, and looked at you, asking for more. 

“Wait for that to digest, then you can have seconds.” you said, softly. You gave them a little head pat, and they skittered away, unused to affection. It made your heart a little sad. But it’s okay, you reminded yourself, kitty’s gonna get lots of love from now on. You adjust your seat on the edge of the tub, trying to stop your butt from going numb. You pick the cat up to put them in their makeshift bed, and check under their tummy. Yup, girl kitty. She lets out a high pitched meow, and you can tell she’s still pretty young. You pet her back, and she arches up, her tail curling. She moves away from your hand, still not used to it yet, but a loud purr resonates through her chest and off the walls. You hold back a delighted squeal as she curls up into a ball. Oh jeez, do you have any blankets? You could cover her with a towel, but do you have anything softer? You leave to check, closing the door securely behind you. You dig through the linen closet for a few minutes before you hear the door open and close. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Leo quipped, putting his jacket on the coat rack. You picked up a small fleece decorative blanket you had no use for until now. 

“Hey,” he turned the corner, and placed his hand on your face, and your free hand rested on his. He pressed a warm kiss to your lips, and pulled away even though he didn’t want to. “Hey, Sparky,” you replied, a smile only he could give you blooming on your face. 

He started to tell you you two could catch up in a minute, he just has to wash the stubborn leftover machine oil off his hands, but you stopped him before he could.

“I have a surprise.” You said.

“Okay,” he replied, smiling, “what is it?”

You bit your lip, and quickly pulled him into the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind you. 

“Woah, babe,” he smirked, “if you wanted-” his voice cut off when he saw you kneeling next to a small kitty. 

“Her name is garbage, cause that’s where I found her!” you giggled, quoting the episode of The Office you two had watched just last night. 

“Aww,” he cooed, and began to wash his hands hastily so he could pet her, “she’s adorable!” his voice was soft, and higher than normal, and it was the cutest thing you’d ever heard. He dried off his hands, and bent down to give her a cuddle. You stayed like that for a while, watching her play with string and baby talking her. 

“By the way, Estrella,” he said, breaking his baby voice to look up at you, “we’re not actually naming her garbage, right?”

“No!” you laughed, “She’s too cute, that’d be mean…” 

He giggled at your face, and you two batted names back and forth for a while, trying to find the right one, and eventually settling on Jackhammer, maybe Jack for short.  “She’s definitely as loud as one,” Leo mused when he’d first heard her purr.

She purred a lot more after that.

[imomomi]

Summary: Y/N isn't too sure what it is about Kozume Kenma that makes her nervous, but avoiding him doesn’t seem to be working especially since Kuroo keeps bothering her...

Word Count: 1,607

Warnings: None :)

A/N: Just a cute little story that I had drafted. Part two will be up soon! 

         Y/N had been startled when Kuroo first asked her to come to their game. The second time, she grew increasingly wary that her classmate had a crush on her. The third time, Y/N declined much to his shock and her growing annoyance. It wasn’t that Kuroo was a bad person---he was nice when he wanted to be and smart enough to occasionally catch the mistakes she missed in her chemistry homework. But it was Kuroo Tetsurou. He was captain of the volleyball club, loud and boyishly charming in a way that had girls whispering about him in the locker rooms. To put it simply, he wasn’t Y/N’s type.

           “Why not?” he pestered, poking her back with his pen in between math problems.

           “It’s volleyball,” said Y/N dully.

           “Yeah, duh,” he leaned forward, hair flopping in his face, “that’s kind of the point, Y/N.”

           “I’d rather be at home,” she admitted.

           “Doing what?”

           “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

           “Come one, it’s just one game,” said Kuroo pushing his lips out in a pout. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in disgust.

           “You’re very nice, Kuroo-san, but I’m not interested,” said Y/N bluntly. A twinge of regret filled her. Hopefully, no one around them had heard their conversation and started a rumor. She didn’t want to deal with gossip, especially Tokyo gossip that would spread to the neighboring schools like a wildfire and reach her brother’s ears at Tokyo University.

           “Wh…what?” he sputtered, earning a look from their teacher. He winced, leaned down, and whispered, “I don’t like you.”

           “Well…is it that Yamamoto kid?” she asked in horror, remembering the shy, stuttering first year who’d yelled some gibberish at her, “Or worse Yaku? He’s too short.”

           “Say that to his face, I dare you,” Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “You’re the same height.”

           “Whoever it is, the answer is no.”

           “Oh, come on,” he begged.

           “No. You have this meddling look and it makes me think of a bakeneko coming for my soul.”

           “I don’t see it,” mused Kuroo, leaning forward and staring at her intently. Her brow wrinkled.

           “What?”

           “What makes you attractive? You’re like the witch of the waste before she got ugly,” he said, dodging her hand as she swiped at him.

           The following Monday, Kuroo slams a Nintendo switch on her desk. Their game had ended in a win and Y/N was glad because it meant Kuroo wouldn’t be depressed and annoying, but now he was happy and annoying.

           “Thank you?” said Y/N, turning the device over in her hands. She switched it on, the familiar logo lighting the screen.

           “It’s not for you. Just hold on to it.”

           “Isn’t this Kozume-san’s?” asked Y/N. Kuroo snorted, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His gaze sharped as she spoke his friend’s name.

           “Kozume-san? He’s younger than you.”

           “He’s mature,” Y/N murmured, “Though, Fukunaga is as well sometimes.”

           “You’ve spoken to Kenma?”

           “No. Of course not,” she scoffed, loading Animal Crossing as she spoke, “He comes by the café sometimes.”

           “And you notice him?” Kuroo’s gaze sharpened, voice coming out in sly as a snake. She found she liked this side of him the least.

           “He doesn’t shout and never loses. It’s hard not to notice.”

           “You watch him long enough to know he never loses?”

           “Is this Kozume-san’s? He’ll be upset that you took it,” she looked up, giving Kuroo a light glare and handed him the Switch, “Give it back.”

           “And you protect his stuff? No wonder.”

           “Give me five minutes of peace Kuroo. I don’t have the mental energy to handle you right now,” she said, falling silent. He attempted to pester her for a moment longer, before giving up. She wondered what it was that had made him take Kenma’s switch away. Usually when Kenma stopped by her grandfather’s internet café, he took a seat in a corner and spent all day tapping away at the keys. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d never seen him lose. Y/N was good at video games from constant exposure, but she played them the way a child practiced piano---out of boredom and familial expectation. Kenma breathed video games as if he were enjoying his last meal. Often, she worried that he’d pass out from exhaustion from not eating and would leave him snacks, but she doubted he even knew about it.

           Clearing her thoughts from head, she pulled out her notebook and slumped forward.

           “Here, neko-chan,” Y/N called out softly. She scattered two dried anchovies on the floor, looking for the familiar orange stray that was frequently caught on campus. A soft meow sound from the corner and Y/N pressed against the side of the school, careful to stay under the awnings and out of the rain as she coaxed the cat forward. A smile blossomed on her face as she took in the rounded belly of the cat. In a week or two, there would be kittens hiding somewhere on the school grounds.

           “Y/N, come here,” Kuroo shouted, holding an umbrella up. Y/N looked at the onslaught of rain and considered her options: One, she could take Kuroo’s offer and walk home with him and Kenma. Two, she could brave the weather, catch a cold, and miss the next two days of school. Three, she could simply wait at the school until her grandfather or one of her brothers were available to pick her up.

           “You’re seriously that against walking home with us,” Kuroo asked, leaning over her. His body cast a large shadow on the ground, dark hair and sharp eyes lending to the villainous atmosphere that surrounded him. Kenma offered a brief, silent nod looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The stray cat nudged her hand as if scolding her for not leaving yet. Y/N stood, pulled down the hem of her skirt, and straightened her blazer.

           “I don’t mind walking home with Kozume-san,” she said, taking cover under Kuroo’s umbrella, “You, on the other hand, are far too loud.”

           “I miss when he was quiet,” muttered Kenma’s, lips twitching at the affronted look on Kuroo’s face. His gaze disappeared from her line of view as he slumped forward, hair shielding him from view. Y/N frowned lightly, looking up to meet Kuroo’s thoughtful gaze. The soft pitter patter of rain filled the silence as they walked, but her worry grew. Was she making Kenma uncomfortable with her presence? On normal days, Y/N would sometimes spot them coming off the morning train, Kuroo animatedly talking about whatever nonsense he’d thought up while Kenma softly answered back. They’d always seemed close like brothers, teasing and irritating each other at every chance. But they both had fallen silent now, having an awkward conversation behind her with their eyes.

           “You can drop me off at the bus stop,” said Y/N. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

           “Oka-“

           “It’s not out of our way,” Kenma said. His voice cut across Kuroo’s and broke the silence. Cat like eyes, gold and bright and sharp, met her own briefly before looking on ahead. Y/N nodded and bowed in the same motion, offering her thanks. His shoulders hunched up even more and she was suddenly grateful that Kuroo was here and stood between them.

           Kuroo nudged her and tilted his head in Kenma’s direction. She scowled back and pulled the umbrella closer leaving one of his arms out in the rain.

           “Kenma, tell Y/N she can call you Kenma.”

           “Hmmm…oh…you can call me Kenma if you want,” his hands fiddled with the button on his umbrella, “T…there’s no need for honorifics.”

           “Oh. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

           “You didn’t. But, Kozume-san makes you sound like Hashimoto-sensei,” said Kenma. His eyes abruptly cut to hers again, the gold cutting through her like ice. She frowned, pressing a hand to her face and then narrowed her own eyes.

           “She’s so old,” said Y/N, voice high-pitched in indignation. “I’m only a year older than you!”

           “When were you born?” asked Kenma.

           “March 1st.”

           “Only seven months than,” he said, voice steadier, “Kozume-san makes me sound like an old man.”

           “I was being polite,” said Y/N, huffing in anger.

           “That’s our youth these days,” said Kuroo, grinning widely, “Rude and always on their devices.”

           “Shut up,” both her and Kenma said at once. They turned to each other in surprise, a light blush blossomed across both of their faces. A tight itch of anxiety built in her chest, but Kenma, for the first time ever, didn’t look away and held her gaze. It seemed so small and insignificant, but Y/N felt as if a hand had tightened its hold on her chest.

           Kuroo took over the conversation, pulling tiny strings that push and pull her and Kenma in different directions. She learned that he was an only child and Kuroo’s first friend in Tokyo. Y/N found herself telling them how she had two older brothers and lived with her grandfather who worked for an animation studio. Before she realized it, they’ve stopped in front of her house. Both boys gazed at the traditional awnings and bonsai tree with curiosity. She felt as if she should say something to cement their newly sprung friendship. Y/N lingered, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

“Your island was really pretty,” she offered quietly. Kenma coughed sharply.

“You…send me your switch code…I’ll let you visit it,” he turned around and walked down the street. Y/N frowned, looking at Kuroo.

“Uhh, just text me, I’ll give you his number,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Kenma.

[nuttytani]

The flying cat & the baker

summary: you are a sorcerer who owns a bakery in new york. one day, steve discovers your abilities when he walks in on your cat flying inside the shop on a broom.

fandom: marvel

pairing: steve rogers x gn!reader

warnings: lots of mentions of baked goods and the word "horny" just once (it's not nsfw, trust me)

a/n- heya! another fic~ this was inspired by girl in red's "fell in love in october". i know it's extremely off season but yeet i dont care + my dear friend @lorei-writes / @mllorei beta read this! *gives hug to lorey* thank you so much ;-; lorey. ps: this is a non-avengers!au

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Steve to get lost in the sea of New York streets, walking along the cobblestone paths, breathing in the scent of baked goods, spice and fresh flowers. After all, it was his most favourite part of his daily routine, discovering a new place or two. He took his time looking around the nearly empty street, for it was too early for anyone to be awake except for the store owners. They were all busy preparing their shops for opening to notice his presence.

Steve looked up for a moment, noticing the light of dawn setting upon the sky, sending small beams of yellow light like blessings cast by angels. His low breathing felt warm against his chapped and cold lips. With a silent sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pea coat as he resumed strolling without a set direction in mind, eyeing the buildings- the chipped off parget, showing the reds and browns of the brick underneath while moss and vines covered most of the bottom half.

They all turned into a blur once he stood by a jade coloured bakery, the sign reading “magicae et pistoria”, a silhouette of a black cat on a broom just underneath it. He stared curiously at the displayed varieties of pastries and bread, wondering if he should buy a few- would Sam and Nat like to eat them?

With hesitant fingers, he grasped the door handle and entered, instantly greeted by the bell. Barely a few seconds passed, and Steve felt immensely at ease. His body appreciated the warm cocoon provided by the bakery- in contrast to the weather outside. The interior was rustic, with brick walls and wooden fixtures. His feet lead him magnetically towards the delicacies contained in the arched display, varieties of cakes, pastries and bread placed temptingly- he didn’t know which one to pick.

“Hello! Good morning, how may I help you, sir?” A voice pulled Steve out of his reverie.

Steve looked up to see you, your hair a mess, dust covering the black apron and your forehead, a cute smile adorning your face. You looked like an ethereal being- an angel perhaps, standing before him. Somehow, a breath got stuck in his throat, and his heart started to beat rapidly. He could hear it getting louder and louder. His clothes felt too tight, and he suddenly felt suffocated.

“Sir? How may I help you?” you said again.

Steve cleared his throat, embarrassed with himself for staring at you for much longer than necessary. He muttered an apology under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

“It’s alright, sir, happens all the time. I’ve experienced many people just gawking at the pastries and not knowing what to pick, it’s understandable! I’d be confused too,” you confessed to him.

“Right, of course, glad I’m not the only one or that would’ve been embarrassing,” Steve laughed, trying to bury his awkwardness.

Only if you knew the truth, he’d personally dig his own grave and jump into it.

Steve accepted your help instead of going down the rabbit hole of confusion. You helped him to pick out a few baked goodies- which were a rage amongst your regular customers; a chocolate mousse, Japanese cheesecake and a few vanilla custard doughnuts.

“Thank you! Have a good day,” you said, as the blonde man left the store with a wave.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t look too nervous,” wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, you heaved a sigh of relief.

You usually didn't open the bakery on the weekends, but some things needed to be done, which required your presence. You were sure that no one would come along so early in the morning but were proven wrong. Although it was your fault to leave the open sign hanging, you didn't mind the blonde-haired man and maybe thought he was kinda cute.

You flipped the sign to “closed” while locking the door from inside, as to make sure no one could come in. You moved back to the counter and caught a hand wrapping around a glass jar.

You cleared your throat and glared at the man in question.

“What do you think you’re doing mister.” You folded your arms and glared at the brunette.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to eat some cookies, obviously. You should get your eyes checked if you can’t see things clearly boss,” Rajeev replied and swiftly turned to look at you.

The brunette shrunk and transformed into a black cat, looking at you with bright doe hazel eyes while purring deeply. You groaned and picked him up, placing him on your shoulder.

“There’ll be consequences if you transform like that out of nowhere, and your sister is going to kill me because you haven't been careful. So, if you don’t want me to be skinned alive and thrown into a cauldron to be boiled, stop doing that here.” Truly, nothing scared you more than Rajeev’s elder sister- she was overprotective and intimidating, you wished to never be on her blacklist.

Rajeev only meowed back at you, which frustrated you further. You hoped that he at least understood where your concerns were coming from.

“Come on, we’ve got a lot of organising to do! New stock arrived today, we don’t want cranky sorcerers waiting for us,” you said while muttering a spell and opening a red portal to an apothecary.

By the time Steve returned home, his friends were all awake and wandering about the kitchen like zombies. They all knew about Steve’s early morning walks and didn't question him but were curious as to why he came back so late.

Sam immediately rummaged through the bakery boxes when Steve placed them on the island counter.

“So...what took you so much time, hmm?” asked Sam. “Thought you just went to get some bread, dude.” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a box, ooh-ing delightedly once he got hold of a doughnut.

“I bet it was some grandma asking for directions,” Bucky yawned, still half-asleep as he took a seat on the chair.

Natasha stole the doughnut from Sam and promptly turned to face Steve, who lay on the couch.

“Maybe, he has a secret lover! Oh Stevie, how could you hide this from us?” she said teasingly while licking away at her sugary fingertips.

Sam was distressed by her stealing and guarded the boxes with his arms, grumbling something about him not having enough coffee for this.

“Can you guys just stop- I just went to a bakery and got stuff, nothing more, nothing less!” Steve raised his voice.

All of them just shrugged.

Nat broke the silence, “Okay...But did you see any cuties?”

“NO- I mean... yes, kinda… I mean- Stop asking me these questions!” groaning with embarrassment, Steve covered his face with his palms.

Steve started frequenting “magicae et pistoria” since then to the point he became a regular customer. Not because he wanted to see your dazzling smile or anything, but because the service and baked goods were really good and his friends wanted more of that deliciousness. He became quite close to you as a result, somedays he just dropped by to say hi and spend some time with you.

Occasionally, Sam or Bucky would tag along to his trips. Even though Steve would deny it, they could clearly see he had a crush on the baker- it was obvious by their playful banter and flushed faces. They’d often tease him about it, but Steve being Steve, would just grump away and aggressively change the subject.

Another weekend rolled in, Steve was headed to the bakery as usual. It became a part of his routine to visit it during his morning walks. You, on the other hand, arrived late to the bakery and were rushing to get the place running in no time. It was just you and Rajeev today since your other employees didn't work on the weekends- it was tough but both of you managed.

While you were busy running around the place, Rajeev was playing around in his cat form, saying you didn’t really need him until later. He levitated the spare broom in the air and jumped on it, trying to balance his paws on the handle. Like a child with no care, he flew the broom back and forth across the room with an evil cat smile.

The two of you were unaware of Steve’s presence until he spoke in a startled voice.

“Why is the cat flying on a broom- what is this!”

Everything happened in a flash, Rajeev fell off the broom with a pathetic meow and you dropped your utensils on the floor. Flour and batter splattering on your shoes and creating a mess. Your scream resonating from the kitchen.

Steve’s jaw was slack with shock, his body frozen where he stood. Should he run away? Should he go and check if you’re alright? He wasn’t sure what to do, he didn't even know if what he saw was even real.

The cat was definitely real, as it stood up and rubbed its bum with its paws. How was that possible- Did he even want to know? Was he dreaming? Maybe he is still half asleep and is seeing things.

Steve grabbed a nearby stool and flopped on it, his knees were weak from shock and needed rest. His mind was still processing the situation

You came rushing from the kitchen to the scene, the mess you created all trivial compared to what had just happened right now. You didn't know what to do at this moment, should you tell the truth? Or deny everything-

“What is that thing,” Steve finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“A cat,” you replied as a matter of factly.

“You keep a flying cat?”

You just stared at Steve with a straight face and said, “Well...firstly he’s not mine and secondly he’s not an actual cat.”

As if showing a demonstration, Rajeev transformed back into his human form, which baffled Steve further.

“What are you?” the blonde asked in confusion.

“We’re sorcerers...I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know about it, at least not in this way,” you sighed, gently placing a hand over Steve’s knee.

“But boss- we’re busted, now that he knows we gotta turn him into a toad!” Rajeev exclaimed.

“A WHAT NOW?!” Steve looked back at you with raised brows.

“We’re not turning you into anything! He’s just joking- Rajeev! Apologise to him”

The brunette sulkily grumbled an apology. He excused himself to the kitchen to clean up the mess you had made while you took a seat next to Steve.

“Are you alright? Want some water?”

“No thanks, I’m fine. Just...really really shocked- I can’t believe this is real.”

With a flick of your hand, you made two barstools twirl in the air.

“Okay- definitely real,” Steve chuckled.

Extra (few months have passed)

Steve sat on the armchair with you sprawled on his lap, tapping away at your phone while Sam, Nat and Bucky sat on the floor watching another episode of “the Bridgerton” on T.V.

“Damn kids these days be really horny huh?”

“Shh just watch the show!”

+ "-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated

a/n-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated + join my taglist here

[lactosefreevanillayoghurt]

In Which Chess Absolutely Definitely Does Not Look Like A Dog

I wrote a thing!! It was inspired by a tiny hc from @alltheworldsapaige and here??? it is??? (1424 words) 

Katherine™ sent you a photo.

Katherine™: this dog looks like you

Chess looked down at her phone from where it buzzed beside her laptop. She raised an eyebrow and instinctively typed out a response.

uno: What the fuck.

And then she looked at the image. She blinked, got up off her bed, walked over to her mirror and stared at herself. In what she would later call a 'moment of weakness', she raised the dog picture to show next to her face. Her phone buzzed again.

Katherine™: you haven't denied it tho

uno: Kate, I do not look like that fucking dog what the hell

uno: There. That's my denial.

Katherine™ sent you a photo.

Katherine™: yea but you look more like the dog than i do

Chess looked in disbelief at the most recent picture. It was Kate, grinning at the camera, beanie pulled low over their face and looking very much like a little shit. She shook her head.

uno: Just because I look more like the dog than you do, does not mean that either of us actually look like the dog

Katherine™: ...

Katherine™: whatever

-

Chess had thought that the dog picture was a one-off. But no. Gradually, more and more pictures clogged up her phone storage, until a minimum of one dog picture was sent a day. After the first few weeks, she began to wonder where all these dogs came from.

"I just find them and then take a picture." Kate shrugged nonchalantly.

"....So essentially these are random dogs you see on the street?"

"Yep!"

"Do the owners know you're taking a picture of their dog?"

Kate stopped picking at her nail varnish to look mildly sheepish, "Well... No...."

"Kate!"

"What?! I've only gotten shouted at once!"

"Oh my god." Chess slung an arm around her friend's shoulders, leaning her weight on them. "I can't believe you."

"Yeah, cool, love you too."

-

Chess found out that Kate was in hospital not from her friend themselves, but from the Tigers group chat.

Cairo: hi @uno idk if you know but kate's been taken to hospital she fell at practice

Chess was out of the door in minutes. She longer cared about her own exhaustion from a day of Olympics press, instead running on fear-fuelled adrenaline. The ride to the hospital was so easy it felt almost surreal and she found herself sweet-talking a nurse into letting her into the ward before she'd properly registered the situation. Her mind ran on overdrive, pictures of Kate hooked up to multitudes of machines or pale and upset, stuck to a hospital bed creating a silent movie behind her eyelids. What she was greeted with wasn't quite so soap opera-esque as she'd imagined but still broke her heart nonetheless. Kate was curled in a ball, the wrist in plaster resting gingerly beside them, eyes shut tight. Chess approached quietly, smiling when Kate opened her eyes at the footsteps.

"Checkers!" Kate's voice was quiet and sleepy. The other girl laughed at the thought of big tough angry Kate now soft from the pain medication.

"Hello Katherine." Chess sat beside her on the bed, "What the hell did you do this time?"

Kate leaned into Chess' hip, still cradling the broken wrist. "See, I don't even know. I just fell and then fucking Annleigh was calling a fucking ambulance."

Chess rubbed their back, frowning, "Why haven't you been released yet? Surely they should just send you home after setting your wrist?"

"Mmmff." Kate wriggled around for a bit and then spoke up again, their voice muffled by the duvet. "Apparently I went into shock. They want to keep me here for "observation". Prob'ly so I don't, like, have a heart attack or something."

"Jesus."

She watched as Kate flopped onto her back, squeezing their eyes shut again. After only a few seconds, she sat up abruptly, eyes wide and panicked. "No!"

Chess went back to being on high alert - at this rate she'd be the one having the heart attack. "What? Are you okay? Kitkat, what happened?"

"I didn't get to send you your dog picture!!" Kate's voice was distraught, their eyes teary.

Chess looked at her. Kate looked back. Then she began to laugh. Kate looked mildly offended. "Kate. You-" Laughter cut her off and the teen in question dug an elbow into her side. "You broke your wrist and all you care about is my dog picture?! You don't even like dogs!"

"Yeah, but you do!!"

Chess snorted. "I'm allergic, Kate, I don't like them that much."

Kate looked baffled and blinked up at her. "Oh." They began to laugh too, the hysteria increased by the looks sent by other members of the ward. "Not gonna stop sending them though."

"Okay, Kitkat, you do you, boo."

-

Katherine™ sent you a photo.

Katherine™: if we got a dog it would look like this

uno: I thought you didn't like dogs

Katherine™: i don't

Katherine™: but look at its face

uno: That dog looks like Annleigh

Katherine™: annleigh can't look like a dog she's a horse girl

uno: You make no sense

Katherine™: agree with me tho our dog would look like this

Katherine™: it's a big dog

uno: .....Is that it.

Katherine™: ye

uno: Kate, that's a great dane, I don't think you'd be able to see over it

Katherine™: why am i still friends with you when all you do is insult my height

uno: Awww but it's such a fun way to spend my time!!!!!

Katherine™: you're never getting a dog photo again

That was a lie. In fact, it was such an intense lie, that Kate sent two dog photos the next day. Chess only laughed and patted them on the head, if only to accentuate the height difference.

-

uno sent you a photo.

uno: Woof.

Katherine™: hOW dAre you

Katherine™: this is MY thing and you come and steal it??????

Katherine™: blocked.

Katherine™: banished.

Katherine™: disowned.

uno sent you a photo.

uno: Meow?

Katherine™: now this i can support

Katherine™: unblocked

Katherine™: hugged

Katherine™: loved

uno: Lovely.

-

It had been going so well. Training was as hard as ever but her coaches seemed pleased, and she was doing okay all in all. The Olympics were set for almost a month away and her days were spent either looping that one damn stunt, organising travel or attending yet another press interview. It was tiring, really, and even though she'd been given time off school for the competition, the days were still long and the hours draining. She hadn't been home in a week, with her base now elsewhere in the state, somewhere that her coach said would 'optimise training abilities'. Chess told herself that it would be over soon and that she was seventeen now and that she should be able to spend a week away from her friends, away from Kate, without feeling so lonely. God, how would she deal with college if she couldn't stand even a week away from that one friend?

Maybe she'd just been exhausted, or maybe her body had wished too hard for a way out, but she'd fallen. She felt her knee twist beneath her, pain shooting through her leg, and then she'd hit the floor. Within seconds there were people crowding around her, shouting for an ambulance, holding her with such care that she wanted to scream.

Her mind filled with static as she obeyed each command given and answered all the questions shot at her. One clear thought stayed present through the pain - if Kate was here, my knee would be fine. It was ridiculous to think that one person could heal what would later be discovered to be a horrifically serious injury, but in that moment, Chess was convinced that Kate could have fixed her broken world.

Instead, she shut her mouth and stared up at the ceiling. Fuck.

Surgery passed in a blur. Later, she wondered if this was how Kate had felt that one time they'd broken their wrist. Alone, cold, and hazy with pain.

Her phone buzzed by her side at the same moment that the door to her room opened.

Katherine™ sent you a photo.

Chess looked at the photo. It was a dog, one leg in a tiny animal cast, the owner visible near the top of the image, a smile etched on their face.

Katherine™: this dog looks like you

She looked away from her phone and up at the figure who'd entered the room. She smiled, finally, and Kate smiled back.

-

[hotpinkrathian]

A Different Kind of Mother

(Kyalin)

Inspired by all the Lin+kitten content recently

Kya handed the mother the sheet with her child's diagnosis, and everything she would need to know.

"This is everything?" She asked.

"Yes, there's the list of medications he can take, if you are unable to see a healer weekly."

"Thank you." Kya nodded farewell and the woman went to her son. Lin was knelt in front of him, showing him her badge and telling him a story about busting a triad.

"Mom shes the chief of republic city! She fought the red lotus can you believe it?"

"Thats very cool Yin," the mother replied with a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you on the force one day, kid." Lin said as he left, lighting the boys face up with a smile.

"Wow who knew you were so good with kids." Kya remarked when the were out of earshot. Lin stood with her arm crossed, scoffing as Kya came near to her, gripping her shoulders and kissing her on the cheek.

"Between my sisters and Tenzin's kids, you get used to it." Kya narrowed her lips, turning to grab her purse.

"You know Lin, you would be a great mother, I whole heartedly believe that." Lin frowned, her eyes turning to floor.

"Sometimes I wonder," she said, and Kya put her stuff back down.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, just forget about it. Let's go home, this hospital is making me nervous."

"Nervous? You scared someone's going to see that limp of your's and offer you treatment?"

"Thats exactly it. Now come on, I made these reservations for you."

"Reservations? How romantic." Kya wrapped her arm around Lin's, the metalbender's blush enough to make Kya kiss her cheek again.

Wong's was always quiet on Tuesday's which is why they chose date nights during the week, Lin didn't like the crowd.

"Usual seat?" The hostess asked, leading them to their table after a nod.

"I'll give you a few minutes, wave if you need anything," she smiled. Kya put her arms on the table infront of her, subconsciously grazing her elbow with her fingers, and pushing her tits forward. Lin stared at the menu, she'd been trying out everything recently and she was looking for what was next on her culinary escapade.

"Lin you didn't want kids, right? I mean that's why you and my brother broke up." Lin ignored her, and Kya leaned in further.

"Lin?" Lin put down her menu with a sigh.

"Are we really going to talk about this now? While on a date?"

"Sordy its just earlier you- and I was... well."

"Alright fine. Its about time I told you anyway." Kya smiled softly, allowing herself to lean back just a bit.

"I didn't want kids, Kya. I never wanted kids while Tenzin and I were together, it just didn't fit. It was until Jinora was born that things... changed. I still didn't totally want one, but the idea of it was nice and part of it was to get back at your brother, so I looked into it." Kya raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.

"Like a donor thing or?"

"No, I was a little more... um, direct, with my methods."

"Oh,"

"They meant nothing. Anyway, after a couple weeks and still nothing, I went to a healer, and a biologist. Thats when I found out I was infertile." Kya found herself frowning, put off by Lin's disclosure.

"Its not a big deal, its for the best, believe me. I didn't have a father growing up, I didn't need to raise a kid the same way. Besides, I changed my mind again after Ikki and Meelo."

"Lin... I.... I don't know what to say."

"So say nothing, I told you, I'm over it. With Opal around more often, and Bolin, and of course, you, I don't need a kid of my own." Lin took Kya's hand, but Kya was still reluctant.

"Lin I never knew."

"You're not alone, I never told anyone."

"Not even your sister?"

"No, she has enough problems of her own, she doesn't need mine. Besides, I told you, it doesn't matter. I didn't want kids anyway." Kya forced her lips into a smile, and Lin returned to the menu. Sje was overwhelmed by Lin's sharing, first of all it was rare for Lin to share anything, let alone something this specific and personal.

"And for you?" Kya was pulled out of her thoughts by the waitress who returned with her pen pad.

"Oh, uh... I'll get the salmon." The girl nodded and walked away, passing their order to the chef.

"You had the salmon last time," Lin noted.

"Yeah, I was distracted."

"Kya, please, this doesn't have to be a thing."

"Does your mom know?"

"Of course she doesn't know!!! Why would I tell her I went around sleeping with guy after guy to test my theory. Believe me, she doesn't care."

"Yes she does, you know that."

"Even so, so what? That's in the past now."

"Did you know when you were dating Tenzin?"

"I had suspicions but like I said, it wasn't until after Jinora was born I found out."

"You never said anything to him?"

"No. He might have suspected after the breakup, there were times where not being pregnant just didn't make sense. Poor guy probably thought it was him until Pema popped up with Jinora." Kya pursed her lips, she took Lin's hands in hers and stared at her.

"I'm sorry you went through that all alone, Lin."

"I told you it's in-"

"-In the past, I know. It still hurt, didn't it?" Lin remained silent for a moment, before nodding slightly. Kya took Lin's hands, kissing her knuckles.

"I love you," Kya said softly, smiling.

"I love you too."

Lin came home from work, flopping onto the couch.

"Kya!" She called, getting no response. She looked around, her girlfriend was no where to be seen.

"Where is she-" as Lin got up she noticed a brown kitten, staring up at her from the floor. It released a quiet meow as it looked at her.

"What?" Lin asked it, getting silence in response.

"Kya!" Lin called again, still no sign of her. She walked over to the counter, where a neatly folded note sat next to a collar.

Lin,

I know it doesn't make up for everything you felt, but please, give her a chance. There's food for her in the fridge. I couldn't decide on a name, so I left the collar on the counter, the tag is made of metal, I was hoping you could handle that.

Love, Kya

Lin found herself smirking at the end of the letter. She picked up the collar looking at the kitten that stared up at her with bright amber eyes.

"How made do you think she'll be if I named you Kya Jr? She hates Jr names." The kitten released a squeal in response and Lin nodded, laughing.

"Yeah thats what I was thinking." She picked up Kya Jr, setting her on her chest as she laid on the couch, watching the news, waiting for Kya (Sr.) to come home

[sadaboutniall]

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

Chapter One. January.

remember that first laugh? all it changed once I had that // like a hurricane, but I don't care where I land - rome, dermot kennedy 

The whole thing had started out as a joke. Or maybe a pipe dream. Or maybe a massive mental breakdown and a poorly thought-through trip to the passport office for a rush renewal and a visa application. 

No matter how it had started, Luna hadn’t actually thought it would pan out. Two and a half months ago, standing in her parents’ kitchen in New York, reading the lawyer’s letter, it had been a shiny, exciting, half-baked idea—an escape she could cling to while everything else was going to shit. It hadn’t been a reality. 

It was hardly a reality even as it began to happen: Luna, packing her bags on a Friday night, deciding which pictures of her ex to keep and which to toss; Luna’s dad, hoisting her bags into the trunk of the car for her; Luna’s mom, petting her hair as she hugged her goodbye at the airport.

And it wasn’t real when she got to Inis Mór either: her snug little apartment above the coffee shop, the smattering of mismatched furniture that her Great Aunt Niamh had left behind, Ruairí, the black cat her new neighbor had been feeding, the mess of her suitcases, exploding on the floor, markedly different to the seemingly ancient chairs and quilts and sweaters that Niamh left for her. 

Or, just left. It’s been hard for Luna to tell what’s for her and what isn’t. 

And even now, nearly a month into living here and it only half feels real, the way she gets up every morning and putters down to the shop to open up, the cat following behind her, meowing for breakfast and Siobhan, the baker, already well on her way to done with the morning’s pastries, the smell of cinnamon and dough and vanilla and the cold air outside wafting through the shop to wake Luna up sweetly; the way old Mr. Whelan is always her first customer, never deviates from his order of a black coffee and a croissant, toasted; the rush of cold air every time someone opens the door, feeling like it’s flaying the shop open, sending napkins fluttering to the floor, causing Ruairí to hiss in protest and curl up closer to the fireplace. There’s nothing real in the way the sun sets at 4pm these days, quick as a wink over the hill outside the window, a flash of orange and purple the only reminder that day once broke in this place that always feels dark, under cover. There’s nothing real in the way Luna needn’t worry about anything here—her rent is paid and there are no deadlines anymore, no screaming bosses, no one angry with her for dropping an artist file or fucking up a coffee order. It’s not real, not even when she calls home and talks to her parents, when they tell her about her brother Sam’s new PhD research and his girlfriend Mary’s trip to Honduras. It’s not real, any of it. And it works. It’s fine. And so is Luna. 

It’s hardly real on a Monday night at the end of January, either, after Siobhan has already left for the day and Luna is quietly closing up, tucking mugs into cabinets and dropping bits of pastry on the floor for the cat. She’s not thinking about much of anything—in the month she’s been here, Lu’s found the very start and very end of her days to be the most relaxing, the way she can clear up the shop or fire up the coffee maker without having to talk to anyone, think about anything. It’s so markedly different from what feels like a lifetime ago: bustling into the office at 8:30 and still feeling like she was late, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand, someone’s dry cleaning in the other, 12 voicemails already waiting for her, 30 emails, more coming through as her phone vibrated in her pocketbook. This is quiet and slow: Ruairí is weaving between her legs, meowing gently when he wants more treats, and outside it’s dark and still and cold, despite it being only 7pm. Luna is tired but not wiped—a feeling she forgot existed before leaving New York—and it occurs to her that she can have a slice of cake tonight in front of the TV, and maybe a glass of wine, while watching Law and Order until she falls asleep. 

She’s lost in that thought—and the already building annoyance at the fact that she knows she’ll inevitably wake up on the couch at 3am and have to stumble to bed—when the door creaks open, nighttime wind rushing in, a boy stumbling after it. 

“So sorry,” Lu looks up from where she’s been wiping down the counter behind the pastry display. “I’m closing up. But I still have a few leftover slices of cake if you want—”

“Oh, erm,” the boy stills, maybe surprised, and Lu does too. He’s—well. Lu hasn’t seen anyone here who looks like him. 

He’s a mess of hat hair, dark at the roots and an unnatural blonde at the tips, curling over his ears and flopping over one eyebrow. He’s bright blue eyes, wide when he looks at her, and cheeks flushed red to match the tip of his nose, and a smattering of stubble along his face, darkening in the dimple of his chin, his pink lips chapped where his tongue darts out to soothe them. He takes her breath away for half a second—or maybe that’s the rush of wind that crashed against her chest when he opened the door. 

The boy is clutching a guitar by its neck, gloved hand wrapped almost reverently around it, and his white high-top sneakers are mucky where the rubber soles have been sludging through the perma-mud outside. He looks like something out of a dream, maybe, Lu’s heart catching a little in her throat. 

“Hi,” he says, finally, looking just as out of sorts as Lu feels. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but he carries on. “I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t think you would be so… uh. American? Uh,” gently, he tucks the guitar under his arm and tugs off his navy blue gloves, the cotton pilling from wear. “I’m Niall,” he reaches out a hand. It’s cold when Lu takes it to shake, when he wraps it gently around her own. “I live Kilronan.” 

“Hiya,” Lu’s voice comes out softer than she expected it to. “I’m Lu. I work here.” 

“Right, right,” Niall nods, swallows thick. “You’re Niamh’s niece? I was so sorry to hear about her passing—she—”

“Great niece,” Lu rushes over Niall, exhausted, even a month later, of every introduction on this island starting with a condolence. “I actually only met her once. But it sounds like she was a force.”

“You—once?” Niall shoves his gloves into the pocket of his puffer jacket. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Was there, uh,” she doesn’t want to get rid of him,  but doesn’t know where to go next. “Did you want one of those slices of cake? I’m sorry for you to come all the way from Kilronan for nothing.”

“Oh,” Niall looks like he’s only just remembered where he is. “No, I didn’t come for cake. I, uh, I have a… a question? An idea?”

Briefly, Lu worries if she should be nervous—but crime doesn’t happen here, not like this, and Lu knows the statistics when it comes to stranger attacks. Either way, Niall keeps talking before she can spiral, the words tumbling out like he knows he has to speak before he thinks better of it.

“I, uh, I was wondering if there’s any chance you were looking for someone to, like, play guitar and sing a bit? Like, live music in the shop for a couple hours a week? You don’t have to pay me or anything, ‘m not asking for that, but I could maybe leave my case open for tips? I can do covers or requests or—whatever you want, really. And I can give you my work schedule and we can work around that; I’m free on the weekends mostly, except for when I coach football, but also on weeknights if you’d prefer that and if you want to split the tips I understand, we can do that too, and also—” 

“Niall,” Lu can’t take it. He’s speaking so fast it’s shuttling her toward an anxiety attack, and throwing up on the shoes of the first cute boy she’s seen in a month was not on her agenda for today. Meeting a cute boy in general was not on her agenda for today, but Lu’s been learning that things don’t tend to pan out the way she plans them. “I like the idea. That sounds cool.” 

“I totally understand if—wait, really?” Niall pauses, hand halfway up to his face, like he was going to cover his mouth, or rub his eyes, or bite his nails. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open a little, like he didn’t expect it to be that easy. Like he didn’t accept Lu to be agreeable at all. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs, then nods at the guitar still tucked under Niall’s arm, “but you’ll need to audition for me,” she bites back a cheeky smile, watches Niall do the same. “I can’t have a crap singer driving away all my customers.”

“Ah, fair play,” the left side of Niall’s mouth pulls up into a smile, and Lu pointedly ignores the kick in her chest. “What would you like to hear?”

She shrugs again, as if “casual” or “easygoing” were ever words people would’ve used to describe her back home. “Your favorite song?”

“My favorite—” Niall scoffs, but there’s no malice in it—it’s playful, inviting, fun. It makes Lu feel like he wants to keep talking to her. Like he wants her to keep winding him up. “You think I can narrow it down to one favorite song?”

“I can,” Lu smiles, soft, “I’m good at making decisions.” 

“Go on, tell us then.” 

“You first,” Lu gestures toward a table, the only one in the shop that isn’t rickety when there’s too much weight on it. “Then I’ll tell ya.” 

Niall hums under his breath, approval, and settles himself on top of the table easily, feet perched on the chair, guitar natural in his lap. He strums once, to check that everything is in tune, and then glances up through the bit of hair that’s fallen over his eye. He’s striking—bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde at the tips of his hair, a lone dimple digging into his filled out cheeks—and Lu feels her stomach swoop and kick again. She takes a deep breath, crosses her arms over her chest. Niall sits up straight. 

“Alright,” he says it so quietly that Lu thinks it might just be for him. She’s suddenly struck with the notion that she’s intruding on something, a moment between Niall and his guitar and himself that isn’t for her—that, maybe, this isn’t something a lot of people get to see. 

And, if that’s true, Lu realises the second he starts strumming, it’s a damn shame. 

It takes Lu a second to recognize the song, but it doesn’t even matter. With a guitar in his hand Niall is even more mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Completely, incomprehensibly, irresistible.

And then he opens his mouth. And Lu feels sick. 

It’s “With or Without You”. 

But there’s none of the corniness, none of the playful groaning and eye rolling that usually accompanies a U2 cover. Instead, Lu feels frozen to her spot in the middle of the shop, Niall, seated atop the table, eyes down, an anchor in the middle of this island. His voice, lower than she expected, and raspy in all the right places, is somehow vulnerable and confident at the same time—somehow makes her want to simultaneously hold him and be held by him, to protect him and let him protect her. It’s real. It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying. Lu doesn’t know what to do with it. 

The song lasts forever and is over in an instant. Eyes closed, Niall carries out the final, desperate, confident, terrified, “I can’t live, with or without you,” as he stops playing and lets his voice take over. The whole shop shakes with it. Or maybe that’s just Lu, trembling. 

His eyes don’t open for a few seconds. Lu can feel herself breathing, she can feel her heart beating, she can feel the wind, outside, throwing itself against the shop’s ancient windows. She can feel it when Niall opens his eyes. 

“Was it that shite?” 

Overwhelmed, Lu exhales an unstoppable, lovely laugh. Niall’s cheeks are red and his eyes are a little glassy and he runs a hand through his thick hair, his bicep flexing just a millimeter. Lu already knows there’s no way this can last.

“Terrible,” she smiles. “Worst I’ve ever heard. When can you start?” 

####

They work out the schedule together, leaning over the only good table, comparing planners. Lu still keeps her old Moleskin, dark purple, embossed with her college seal and the year she graduated. She hasn’t needed it much lately—after years of her work, and eventually her social life, revolving around Google Calendar, she feels a freedom in being able to jot down appointments and approximate times in a messy journal. Niall’s got a battered leather one—doodles on the front, his name in script on the first page. He flips through it quickly, keeps it close to his chest. 

He works at a local furniture and home goods boutique most days, as a design consultant, and coaches the middle school’s co-ed soccer team on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, with games on Saturdays. Lu tells him not to overbook himself but he does it anyway, and they settle on Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights, as well as Saturday mornings, starting the next week. He says he’ll have a friend work up posters to advertise, and tries, again, to tell Lu he’ll split his tips. 

At 10:30, he notices the time, his cheeks pinking up, his chapped lower lip caught between his teeth. They’d been splitting the final two slices of cake, and there’s a tiny glob of chocolate caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he says, looking reluctant, “I’ve got to go, I’m meant to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, God,” Lu feels a bit like she’s coming out of a daze, that feeling she gets, sometimes, when she’s been reading a book or watching a movie and then has to reimmerse herself in the real world. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” 

“No, no,” Niall rushes, “you didn’t. I—thank you. For the chocolate cake. And the, uh, opportunity.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Lu presses her lips together, resists the urge to lean forward and thumb at the chocolate on his mouth. “You’ve got, uh, a bit of chocolate,” she touches the mirroring spot on her own mouth, “right there.” 

“Right,” he smiles, tongue darting out to catch it. “I won’t. Thanks.” 

Lu gathers the plates and cups and totes them to the sink while Niall gets his things together. When she turns around, he’s bundled in his coat and scarf, hat pulled low over his brows, free hand shoved into the pocket of his puffer. She doesn’t know how to look away from him. 

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?” He asks, fiddling with the zipper on his puffer. He hasn’t got all the chocolate—Lu wonders what it would taste like against his lips.

“Next week,” she echoes. “Yeah.” 

“Brilliant. I’ll, uh—I’m excited. Have a good week.” 

Lu’s “and you” gets lost in her throat as she watches Niall head toward the door. His hand is on the knob when he turns back around. 

“Wait, Lu.” 

The sound of her name in his mouth makes her heart stutter. She hopes her raised brow will pass for a response. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“What?” She gets that out, at least.

“Your favorite song of all time,” Niall smiles, dimple prominent. “What is it?”

Looking back, Lu has no idea where the sudden confidence comes from. But, somehow, it does. She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not sure I want to tell you yet,” she says, kind. “I want to see if you figure it out for yourself.” 

####

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