#earl gray tea hot

[the-ghost-fangirl]

If I was a Starfleet captain my drink of choice would be “Coconut water, chilled”, not only for the fun tropical vibes, (they are just an added bonus) but because I am constantly dehydrated and need electrolytes.

(Come to think of it by the 24th century they probably found a more sci-fi magic way around that)

To be a Fleet captain you must a favorite drink (apparently), what would your be?

[barbie-cock]

forbidden candy! my Benu Euphoria fountain pen collection looks nice, but i definitely want to get the Pink Champagne edition from GoldSpot (i want like all of these pens). i have all of these with broad nibs because i love ink and want a thick line.

[tortoisesshells]

19. gray ; for burke and liz.

It was raining, and Burke Devlin was in her drawing room, again, leaning on the mantle under Jeremiah’s portrait; Liz shut the doors behind her with a decided click: “I hope you’re not here either for Carolyn or Vicki.” “For you, Mrs. Stoddard, if the great lady can spare a moment or two of her time.” She nodded, warily, and he held out a tidily wrapped parcel; after a moment or two, she took it: light, and with the faintest scent of bergamot. Feeling as though she were playing into some kind of trap, Liz still opened it, and blanched at the name on the tea-box, the expense. “I told you, I’m grateful for what you did for Vicki – that Morgan would have killed her, if you hadn’t stopped him. And,” he said, the old impudence she remembered from fifteen years before – when he had been poor Bill Malloy’s newest and gawkiest deckhand – shining through, “As thanks, for your very gracious invitation to tea, those weeks ago.”

Send me a number and two (or three!) characters, and get a five sentence drabble.

[opalglassrain]

c o z y

[girlspecimen]

i think just due to the tiring physical circumstances of my job and the stress of my life + working customer service while neurodivergent i’ve found that the coffee and the pastries from work rarely sit well in my stomach. which means in order to be nice to my body i need to be here for 9 hours desperately resisting the siren’s song of a rich cup of coffee and a yummy buttery pastry that i can enjoy for free on the clock 😢😢 pray for me fellow food eaters

[little-lady-bird]

I enjoy what I call Irish Lady tea. It's Lady Gray and Irish Breakfast

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Martyn: Ah, right, let me go jump in Discord with everybody, let me go say hello. (Discord call joining noise) Hello hello?

Ren: (sing-songy) Marteeeeeen.

Martyn: Oh, god, not you again! Can’t get rid of the guy!

Ren: (clearly smiling) What’s up bro?

Martyn: Hey’up, how are ya?

Ren: Dude, who are we today?

Martyn: Today we are…just two dudes, chilling in a hot tub (Ren chuckles), playing MCC, and—it might be gay, who knows? I dunno, does playing MCC make you gay?

Ren: Okay, um, serious question—costumes on or off? Hey Ant, what’s up?

Martyn: N-no costumes today. I’ve got my costume—

Ren: (through laughter) No costumes?

Martyn: No, no costumes today—

Ren: In the hot tub?

Martyn: Oh, in the hot tub, that’s what you meant! So, just to clarify—I don’t know if you meant IRL, because my costume is here and I shared it in the Discord chat last night, everybody—oh, this morning, sorry—and Ren’s first message was, “Earl Gray all over my keyboard! Thanks for that.” (Martyn laughs) That was-that was the initial response.

Ren: Yeah I—yo Ant, I opened up Discord, first thing I see is Martyn in his costume and I spat my tea all over my keyboard.

(Martyn, Ren, and Ant laugh)

[nightingale-prompts]

The Eldritch Coffeehouse-DCxDP prompt-part 2(I guess)

Part 1

Elle had a way of convincing people. Like how she convinced Damian Wayne that they were now best friends and to come over to her family's business after-school.

Damian was only going along with this because of the prodding of his family to make friends. This wasn't something that came easy to him as no one would understand him. But Nightingale had been more understanding than most in his life. She was very...nice. She had these big ideas that always went ahead of her and plans that were larger than life. She always had too much energy and found it hard in school to get it out. Naturally, she was head of the track team but she'd always complain about wanting to join the music club.

Jon had met her once while trying to sneak up on them at the end of the day. She pinned him in a triangle chokehold until Damian called her off. Damian didn't call her off immediately though.

She was still more apologetic than he liked.

"I can make it up to you guys. Let's go to my family's café! We can eat ourselves sick on pastries and cake! My brother should still be making hot chocolate right now!" She told them.

Damian was nice enough to tell Dick where he was going and to not wait up. Alfred was already in the car in front of the school and drove the three to the...graveyard?

"Thank you Mister Pennyworth! Do you want to join us?" Elle asked loudly but politely.

Alfred accepted graciously and agreed to stay for a cup of tea before heading back. He would come pick up Damian later.

The walk through the graveyard was daunting for Jon and only for Jon. It wasn't as scary as he thought since it was only the afternoon and the weather was warm. A few cats rested on tombstones soaking in the heat. A few birds gathered here and there hunting for worms and seeds. There were food and water dishes here and there for the felines and fresh seeds sprinkled on the grass for the birds.

"I usually clean and change the food dishes in the morning. But Dan likes to feed the birds."

Elle walked the row of mausoleums until she stopped at one and pushed the stone door open and a skipped down a stairs and opened the smooth mahogany door in the café.

Behind the counter a young man stood pouring drinks.

"Elle you're back. Take this cup to table 3." He said putting a cup and saucer on a serving tray.

"I just got here! At least let me change or tell you we have guests." She whined but picked up the trey and marched over to the table.

"Guests? I'm sorry. Welcome to the Catacomb Club. How can we make your afterlife?" He said smoothly.

"Elle said we could eat sweets," Jon spoke up first and Damian elbowed him.

"Oh? Well, we have a batch of leftovers from this morning. Since you're her school friends you can get some from the kitchen." The barista said.

"Yay! Thanks Danny!" Elle had returned and opened the door to the backroom to grab some fresh plates and loading them up with sweets.

"Anything I can get for you, sir?" Danny asked Alfred.

"Just an Earl Gray. Or an Early Grave as you call it on the menu." Alfred said.

***

Elle presents a variable buffet of sweets to the boys. She really meant it when she said eat themselves sick.

The menu had no shortage of available snacks:

Tombstone Tarts – Mini fruit tarts with gravestone-shaped pastry toppers. (Jazz's pick)

Phantom Opera Cake – Layers of dark chocolate and coffee mousse with a smoky glaze.(Save a slice for Danny's SPECIAL guest (Jazz STOP)

Ethereal Cheesecake – A white chocolate cheesecake with a "foggy" vanilla glaze (You can just slap the word ethereal on things when you can't come up with something witty.) (Watch me)

Shadow Éclairs – Black cocoa éclairs filled with blood orange cream. (DANNY STOP EATING THE ORANGES) (no)

Soulful Scones – Charcoal scones served with berry jam and clotted cream.

Midnight Mocha Cupcakes – Chocolate cupcakes with espresso buttercream and a ghostly fondant topper. (Ew fondant)

Cemetery Soil – Chocolate pudding "dirt" with gummy worms and cookie gravestones. (Dani ate all the gummy worms again)

Wraith Cupcakes – Vanilla cupcakes with smoky gray frosting and sugar ghost toppers. (Dani's favorite)

Blackberry Bat Muffins – Dark muffins with blackberry compote and bat-shaped toppers. (Save some for that Cass girl)

Candied Skull Pops – Lollipops shaped like skulls in eerie colors.

Necropolis Nougat – Black and white nougat with bits of candied nuts and dried fruit. (Dan's favorite) (Weirdo)

Spirit’s Whisper Bark – White and dark chocolate bark with ghostly swirls and edible glitter.(please don't let Dani eat the glitter)

Moonlight Marshmallows – Homemade marshmallows in ghost or crescent moon shapes. (Danny's favorite)

Blood Velvet Rolls – Red velvet Swiss rolls filled with red cream cheese frosting. (Dan's favorite) (you can't have more than one favorite) (watch me)

Just like the rest of the menu there were comments going back and forth.

"The workers seem to argue constantly." Damian said bitting into a tart

Jon was making his way through the cake pops first.

"Well, we are family. We argue all the time but we don't mean it. Although I'm still mad they didn't like my dessert list." Elle sighed.

"Like what?" Damian asked.

"I had so many ideas like Eyeball pops filled with jelly, Bloody Bones white chocolate covered in raspberry syrup, or Maggot Macaroons with gummy worms in them," Elle said wiggling her fingers to mimic worms. "But Jazz said they were too gross sounding to sell. Humans have such weak stomachs."

Damian wanted to point out that Jon wasn't human and even he turned green. Damian on the other hand was intrigued. Elle was always entertaining to listen to.

The three enjoyed their snacks after Alfred finished his tea and took off.

Jon's Kryptonian appetite helped get through the bulk of it because Damian stopped short to not spoil his appetite.

This was wise since the Cafe preparing to switch to its bar setting with a more lively Jazz band and dinner menu.

Jon groaned at the thought of more food as he rested his face on the cool polished wood that smelled faintly of rose incense. He should have noticed by now that something as off but his stomach has been a major distraction. Had it been his father then who was trained to sense the issue the jig would have been up.

You see, they were the only mortals in the room.

Not one heartbeat could be heard. Jon should have known so much earlier when Elle managed to surprise him without her heart rate going up.

"Dani- I mean Elle?" A voice from the kitchen called.

A young woman with long red locks came into view. Her dress, a 50s style black tea-length poodle skirt. Instead of the usual poodle pattern on the hem, there was a white skeletal cat. She had on a pair of balck frilled short gloves. Other than her dress she wore an apron with a black ribcage design that matched the uniforms of the other workers/family members here. Her teal eyes softened when she saw Elle sitting with her friends

"Yeah, Jazz?" Elle asked.

"Do you still want to go on stage tonight or do you want to stay with your friends? And do you still want dinner?" Jazz asked in succession.

"I'm still going to do my set. And can I get carbonara and a glass of...um..." Elle struggled to find the word for the liquid that every undead in the area came here for. "My medicine."

Damian's ear picked up the hesitation in her voice.

"You take a perception?" Damian said perhaps a bit thoughtless since not everyone wants to talk about their medical issues. But he had never seen her take medicine at school and didn't know a medication that would be taken later in the day that wasn't also taken early.

"Kinda, it's something I have to take to keep living. But it like it, the juice I mean. You'd like it too but you don't need it. Dan is kinda stingy with who gets some. You types aren't allowed. Only members." Elle knew that this place was an open secret. It's not like they kept their ghostly nature secret. Everyone just thinks they are keeping up the theme while they were all completely serious. Besides lying isn't their nature.

Still, Elle wasn't being completely honest which isn't something that comes naturally to her. Bending the truth will have to do.

Damian let it go for now. He didn't need to know her medical history...yet.

Jon was taking a nap now anyways. Damian stole his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the Kent family in case they wanted to know where Jonathan was.

Ellehad to change clothes into her uniform and grab her violin. It wasn't a surprise to Damian who knew she like music but he had never heard her play. Now she was on stage playing with the folk band as the guest clapped and danced.

Jazz brought out some food for them to eat while Danny traded places with a tall burly man who was definitely the eldest brother.

As Damian ate he listened to Elle play...well the band play but it was mostly Elle who he was listening for. He heard a familiar voice from behind his booth and when he looked over it was none other than Jason fucking Todd talking to the bartender. Talking? I meant failing miserably to flirt and having the tables turned on him easily.

[i-did-your-mother]

im a snob ab this shit

super important poll!!

[ddarker-dreams]

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in. 

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work. 

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication. 

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows. 

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?” 

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution. 

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans. 

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out. 

Very astute of him. 

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells. 

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does. 

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across. 

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.” 

Of course he does. 

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall. 

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. 

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground. 

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze. 

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges. 

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…? 

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part two.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄. "

peppers. - lana del rey

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it was your little way of trying to butter him up...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 917

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: spencer being slightly perverted

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈

you swiftly travelled across the office holding a stack of hot cups in your hands.

the small mountain of coffee began to disappear as you distributed each drink to the designated person. it was surprising how much you could learn about a person just from the way they took their coffee. 

hotch liked his black, mirroring his stoic, almost bitter disposition. garcia took hers with an abundance of cream and sugar, the pale, sweet liquid going against what the average adult would choose to consume on a typical monday morning. morgan matched garcia, but chose use more coffee than milk to give his drink a darker hue. jj took hers white with no sugar, prentiss took hers black with four teaspoons of it. and spencer, the obvious outlier…

“earl gray tea, dr. reid?” your voice chirped him out of his studious haze, him leaning back slightly in his chair to find the owner of the voice. he narrowed his eyes slightly, removing his glasses and hooking them onto his collar. he hummed with traces of disdain, trying to pick out something, anything to point out. he waited a beat before plucking the cup out of the grip, taking a slow sip and swallowing the hot liquid in one swift movement. his fixed eye contact suggested that he was unpleased, but the almost unnoticable flicker in his gaze screamed otherwise.

“thank you.” he accentuated his consonants in an extra crisp manner, setting the cup down with great care. you nodded, navigating your way over to your desk (which just so happened to be directly across from him.)

“anytime. have there been any new cases yet?” you took this little interaction the strike up conversation with the only person who hadn’t fallen head over heels for you yet.

spencer shook his head, disloging a few strands of hair from his artfully scruffy hairstyle. “not yet. we’re still working on the case of three women in their mid-20s who were brutally raped before being decapitated.” spencer grimaced as the words left his mouth, but didn’t let you catch a glimpse of it. truth was, he tried to make it sound a lot more gruesome than it actually was just to scare you. he wanted to get some sort of imperfect reaction out of you. 

you raised an eyebrow, humming as you shuffled through a few papers on your desk. “sounds thrilling.” your tone was flat, almost sarcastic. 

he took another quick swig of his drink, stealing little glances at your desk. you had had it set up after 10 minutes of being moved in. neat binders containing whatever you believed needed to be concealed, an assortment of pens, organized in rainbow order, and a few makeup items which looked practically untouched. spencer knew that colleagues weren’t supposed to profile eachother, but he could practically see “control freak” written on your forehead. that was the only explanation as to how you knew what drink he took in the morning.

“how’d you know, anyway?” he mumbled, covering half his face with a few pictures of the butchered women on the case files.

your head shot up. “how’d i know what?” you leaned forward slightly, making him subconsciously back away the same amount in response.

“that i drink tea, not coffee?” he didn’t mean to sound mildly irritated, but he had never been good at properly masking his true feelings. you shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “a girl never reveals her secrets.” he snorted out a small laugh. figures. he’d already found that out when he saw the binders. 

you pursed your lips, curiosity bubbling in your gut. “hey, can i see those? the photos of the victims. i think i may know how to help.” spencer’s brow furrowed. he hesitantly extended his arm to hand you the pictures, but stopped halfway. “what would you be able to do that i can’t? i assure you that i am fu-” you grabbed the papers from him, springing out of your seat and rushing out of the room. between your “take-charge” attitude and that little skirt that rode up your thighs with your quick steps, he found that he was seething once again.

“damn… she’s smoking hot, isn’t she?”

spencer jumped, morgan’s taunting catching him by surprise again. and at the worst possible time too, just as he was staring at the view from behind.

“knock it off, morgan… how do we even know for sure if she’s legal or not? the kid probably can’t drink!” he could feel his cheeks burning red.

“i could say the same about you, kid.” morgan swatted the glasses off of spencer’s collar, laughing as the boy bent down to pick it up. now he was angry, jealous, and had that unmistakable sizzle growing in his stomach. morgan patted him on the back, dropping his voice down.

“just… take it easy, kid. a girl like that usually only comes around once in a life time. but it looks like she’s here to stay. go get her, tiger.”

spencer grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “i’m not gonna ‘get the girl’. i don’t even want her, man.” 

morgan shot him a half grin, slapping him on the shoulder before sauntering off, leaving spencer as a sputtering mess. there went any chance of him starting to warm up to you. this interaction had thrown him off more than ever, leaving him with no desire to fight the urge to keep you as far away as possible. but morgan had been wrong about one thing:

‘smoking hot’ was a gross understatement.

fill out the taglist form ! : @mikaaj , @feyresqueen , @guiltyyassin , @broadwaytraaaaash

[amygdalae]

Spilled my earl gray tea my entire earl Grey tea spilled knocked. Over onto the ground pooling in the dirt my earl Grey tea fresh piping hot hadn't even sipped it yet two teabags honey and oat milk my earl Grey tea spilled gone forever

[thesightstoshowyou]

Au Courant

- Part 2 -

(Read Part 1 here)

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader

Summary: The night of your weekly support group doesn’t go as planned either.

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst, violence, attempted mugging, mention of minor character death, manipulation, mentions of stalking.

~~

Chilly evening wind gusts, crispy leaves rustling around your feet as you walk. The breeze stirs up the scent of decaying foliage and rotting trash from a nearby dumpster. Wrinkling your nose, you shrug further into your jacket, wishing you’d worn another layer. The quick tap, tap of your shoes echoes off brick as you pick up your pace.

Ahead lies your destination: An unassuming little church, brick facade freshly power-washed and cleaner than the surrounding buildings. The light above the door shines bright in the gloom, illuminating various fliers taped to glass.

‘One is Enough: Support group for former and non-Pairs. Tuesdays at 6pm,’ one such paper reads. You purse your lips as you heave the door open, still embarrassed to be attending these meetings at all.

It has been almost two months since that day at the grocery store. You thought, maybe after a little time had passed the ache would lesson, but it’s just as sharp, just as crushing as it was when he’d left you in that parking lot.

You’d gone back several times since then. Waiting in your car, eyes trained on the door, you prayed he would show up. If you could just talk to him, just for a few minutes, maybe he would—

Shaking your head, you force yourself to stop spiraling. Replaying these scenarios in your head isn’t healthy. They only make you feel worse. He hasn’t returned to the grocery store. You won’t see him again. You must accept this.

You just wish you knew his name, at least.

Descending the stairs to the right of the door brings you to the basement. A few florescent lights flicker at the far end of the room, illuminating the circle of plastic folding chairs. Nearby sits a little table, customary carafe of hot water and assorted tea and instant coffee packets littering its surface.

Christ, it’s fucking bleak.

You sit quietly and listen, little paper cup of earl gray growing cold in your hands. It’s a full house tonight; many faces you’ve seen before. They mostly talk of loss, of soulmates that passed away too soon. Some speak of isolation, of never finding their other half.

None, however, had a soulmate reject them.

You decline to speak when asked to share your story. You can’t talk about it, not yet. It’s too fresh, and the mortification of having to disclose the fact that not even your soulmate wants you is something you can’t bare to say aloud. Better they think he died.

It kind of feels like he had, anyway.

Meeting adjourned, you stand and make your way back to the stairs, tossing your full paper cup in the trash as you go. You’re out the door and hiking your jacket up around your shoulders when you hear your name called behind you.

Turning, you find Alan, one of the group leaders hurrying out the door after you. His soulmate died a few years ago, poor guy. He beams when you meet his gaze and gives an awkward half wave as he catches up to you.

“Hey, uh, thanks for coming tonight.”

Weird. “Yeah, it’s…um, nice to be with people that get it, you know,” you comment, forcing a wan smile to your face. Alan nods, glances at his feet, back to your face. He sucks in a breath before he speaks.

Oh no. No, no, no, no—

“Um, hey I was…I mean, if you’re feeling up to it, would you, uh, like to…to get some coffee sometime?” You bite the inside of your cheek and muster every ounce of willpower to keep from grimacing.

He’s nice, really, but it’s just too soon. God, you’re never going to be able to come back here, are you?

“Oh! Oh, goodness, that’s…that’s really kind of you, Alan, but I’m not…not sure I’m ready. Yet.” You add the last word to soften the blow. Would you ever be ready? You’re not sure it’s even possible.

Alan smiles gently, warm understanding all over his face. You hope your expression is passive. “Hey, I totally get it. Maybe another time.” He moves to head back inside, then quickly spins around again to add, “Please don’t let this stop you from coming. We’re good, really, okay?”

You fake a grin and nod, hastily turning away so he can’t talk to you anymore. Shit, there goes that group. There have to be others, right?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you bow your head against the frigid breeze as you hurry back to your car, mood now as sour as the weather. Why did he have to go and ruin this for you—

“Hey.” You startle when a voice speaks directly into your ear. Whipping around you find a young man inches away from you. You hadn’t heard him approach over the blasting wind.

You try to back away but he grasps your arm tightly. “Money. Now. Don’t make a scene.” Your stomach plummets when he produces a knife from his pocket, streetlights glinting off the blade.

You stammer, “I-I don’t have—

“Shut up. Give me what you have.” Blood rushing in your ears, hands shaking, you nod, wondering what the hell you’re going to give him. Everything is in your car. Maybe he wants your keys…?

Behind you, quick footsteps approach. The young man balks, releases you, backs away. Hurriedly, you stumble backward, bumping into whoever had interrupted. Strong hands grip your upper arms, steadying you.

Glancing over your shoulder, your mouth falls open in shock. It’s him. The man from the grocery store.

Your soulmate.

He wears that same cold expression he had at the supermarket. He’s not looking at you though, his dark gaze instead trained on the would-be thief.

He releases you just as the young robber attempts makes his escape. You watch in stunned silence as your soulmate pursues, powerful legs giving him a surprising burst of speed. The thief darts down an alley, the man hot on his heels.

Now, silence, save for your frantic breathing. Your wide eyes are glued to where you watched them disappear, your heart throwing itself wildly against your ribs. What if he gets hurt, or worse? What should you do?

The wind blusters, sending goosebumps racing across your skin. You’re about to call for help when a dark figure emerges from the alley. The air leaves your lungs in a rush of relief, your trembling hand gripping the front of your coat. He’s okay!

And he’s walking right toward you.

You swallow thickly, your heart now hammering for a different reason. What will you say? How will he respond? Are you about to get your heart broken again?

Wait, what the hell is he even doing here?

“Are you alright?” You blink and dazedly look up into his eyes. They look black in the darkness, glittering in the light of the street lamps just as the knife had.

“I…yeah, I think so. T-Thank you.” Your voice quivers as you speak and you realize you’re trembling from head to toe. Is it from fear or the chill air?

“I lost him,” the man laments, motioning to the alley. You nod, amazed he even went after him in the first place.

“Should…do I need to call the cops or something?” You hate that you sound so helpless in front of him.

“Do you remember what he looks like?”

You pause, realizing you can’t even recall what clothes he’d been wearing. Timidly, you shake your head. The man shrugs.

“Not much they can do then.” You nod, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. The urge to reach out and touch him is almost too great to resist. He watches you so intently, keen eyes trained on every shift of expression, every movement of your nervous hands.

What is he thinking, you wonder? Is this it? Will he leave now, for good?

Instead, he surprises you. “Let me walk you to your car.” You can’t suppress the hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Your heart stutters when his warm palm finds your lower back. He turns and guides you down the street toward your vehicle. His body is warm too, comfortingly so. You hope it’s not too obvious when you lessen the gap between you, your arm brushing his as you move.

You walk in silence for a few beats, gathering the courage to say what’s been on your mind for weeks. Clearing your throat, you steel yourself.

“Why did—

“I panicked,” he interrupts. Taken aback, you glance up at him. He offers you a wry smirk. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

You shake your head, baffled. “Does anyone?” you ask. A quick breath leaves him, the barest hint of a laugh.

“I suppose not.”

“And…what are you doing here?”

“I just happened to drive by, as crazy as it sounds. I saw you walking and knew I had to turn around.” His words make you look down to your shoes, heat spreading across your cheeks. Fate had intervened again, it seems.

All too soon, you reach the parking lot. Coming to a stop next to your car, you turn to face him. His lips press into a line and you can almost see him thinking, considering. Your hands wring anxiously.

“My life is…complicated,” he says finally. His words are measured and there’s something there just under the surface, some urgent need for you to understand.

“I don’t care,” you reply instantly, taking a step closer to him. It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling you in. “I don’t. I just want to be a part of it.”

This close, you can see the muscles in his jaw flex. He breathes in deeply, his exhale a heavy sigh. “My name is Asa,” he says finally.

You smile so wide your face hurts.

**

Asa watches the taillights of your car until they disappear around a corner. Only then does he allow a victorious smirk to cross his face. He will never tire of the satisfaction of success.

The Collector turns on his heel and strides back down the street. One more task to complete before the night is over.

Everything had gone optimally. The druggie had played his part of “thief” perfectly, thanks to the cash Asa had given him a few hours prior. Snapping his neck in the alley had been so easy. Heaving his dying body into the dumpster had been less simple, but still manageable.

What he said to you was a different matter. Telling you the truth was difficult, much harder than he previously anticipated. Indeed, he had panicked when you’d run straight into his arms, or panicked as much as someone like him could. Meeting his soulmate had not been in his plans. Asa doubted such a thing even existed for him in the first place, and that was preferable.

You were a liability. Getting caught was not an option. The last thing Asa needed was you stumbling into his carefully curated life and spilling marina all over the place. So, he’d left.

But, you would not leave his mind. Your meeting had awoken something deep inside him, some need. The obnoxious ache gnawing away at his gut grew tiresome. As he followed you home from the grocery store parking lot, watched you leave from work to attend your silly support group, as he learned your schedule and your habits from afar, his thoughts had drifted to the potential.

A partner, even more so a soulmate would aid with his disguise: Dr. Asa Emory, entomologist, professor, and now one half of a loving Pair. It’s the epitome of “normal.” Perhaps having you around would also quell the incessant nagging of his coworkers. This is not necessary, of course, but it would be welcome none the less.

You saw him, as well. When you’d collided, you looked into his eyes and caught a glimpse of what he kept so well hidden from everyone else. Asa had seen it on your face, the fear, the understanding. And, still, you chased after him. You wanted this, wanted him. Maybe you could want the Collector too.

Could you learn to understand?

Faking tonight’s emotions, the nerves, the story he fed you about “just driving by” shouldn’t have been so simple, but you’d accepted everything without question. Your gullibility is ideal. Everything about you seems to work in his favor. Is this luck? Or is this what it is like to be a Pair?

Time will tell.

Now, Asa turns his attention to the church door. He only has to wait a few minutes before it swings open. A man exits, papers clutched under his arm. The light above the door illuminates his face when he turns to lock up. It’s him, the one who asked you out earlier this evening.

Peering around the corner, Asa watches the man adjust his coat before heading off down the street. After a slow count to ten, Asa follows, stalking silently.

One more task tonight; a lesson to be taught, a price to be paid in blood.

You belong to the Collector, and the Collector does not share.

[lich-witch]

The Graceful Sipper has just consumed a small but delicious portion of hot earl gray tea.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

omg that apollo smut was just amazing!. could you do something angsty w him like he's gonna break up bc he fell for someone else (and obviously as a demigod you know that he's not sticking around forever) feel like crying omg

baby omg that's so fucking sad why would you do this to me

"We have to talk." He's trying to be nice. He wants you to sit down and he wants to warm you some tea before he tells you.

You don't sit down, despite his obvious gestures to the sofa. In fact, you don't even let him in the door. You stand there with it open, arms crossed on your chest with an unreadable expression.

"No, we don't." Okay, well now you're being difficult. He wants to let you down easy and you're being so stubborn.

"Yes, Y/n, we do." He hasn't called you Y/n in two years. It's sweet girl, baby doll, my love, sunshine.

"I know." For a second he thinks you're agreeing, that you do have to talk until he sees the barely contained rage in your eyes. You know. You know where he's been.

He doesn't know what to say so he just stands there. His hands that are so used to wiping your tears twitch when one falls. He doesn't love you anymore but he's not a monster.

"Are you okay?" There's so much he's trying to ask. Will you be okay? How do you feel? How long have you known, the entire time? Do you hate him?

You nudge your apartment door with your foot and he looks inside. The sunflowers he'd given you are waving at him from the trash can.

You sighed and stepped outside. It wasn't a very bright day, the sun was hidden behind clouds that drizzled lazily. He didn't realize he was standing in soft rain until you joined him.

You took his hands, curled his fingers into his palms and held them as fists. "I know I'm not permanent, Apollo. Everything goes someday. You deserve happiness for the time you can have it. My comfort currently is that this lover isn't permanent either."

You were talking to him like he was human. A mortal to live and to die. Somebody to pass through life for 80 years at most and somebody expected to run out of time. His face must've given away his confusion, his eyebrows are arched, eyes wide and his mouth open.

"I will get over you," You continued, "I will find another person to love and we will love for a long time. I will be happy. But I can't have summer picnics anymore. I can't wake up early with a cup of earl gray in my hands and sit on my porch. I can't stand on the beach, watching you descend in the sky without remembering this. So much of the world is filled with you. And I hope someday when I watch you light it up with my lover's hand in mine, I won't ache to forget you."

You dropped his hands, yours came up to grab his face like you were going to kiss him. He wouldn't be averse to it, he closed his eyes and accepted your attention. Your forehead pressed against his and you just stood there, holding him and breathing.

You didn't kiss him. Your hands fell away and you walked back inside. The door closed behind you. You didn't even spare one last glance at him. He stood there on your porch. The light rain turned to weeping, the clouds full and betrayed. They wept all over him as he watched your door, waiting for a sign to leave.

He didn't love you anymore, he reminded himself. He stepped back and walked away from your home. As he stepped on the pebbles of your drive way, he looked back towards your home. He saw through your windows, you perched on your counter, nursing a cup of hot chocolate. He'd only ever known you to drink tea.

As he watched you swing your legs and kiss your mug, it hit him. You loved him like a man. He was human with you, no matter his occupation and shows of power, he was only the man you loved. You loved him humanly and you let him go the same way.

Apollo wouldn't be your greatest love, you were bound to draw in more people with your kind soul and gentle hands. But you were his, the only love that saw beyond his immortal curse.

[strayheartless]

What are AGSZC and Squall's favorite teas?

Oh this is a cute question! Thanks for adding mr grumpy paws too lol.

Angeal likes most teas, he drinks tea over coffee most day. People praise him for not being caffeine dependent but most people are not aware Tea (particularly black tea) has more caffeine than coffee. That being said, Angeal does enjoy a nice cup of camomile before bed. His mom used to always keep some for special sleep emergencies when he was little, and it reminds him of rainy nights with his parents, riding out thunderstorms and sipping floral tea as his dad complaines it “gives me hayfever this stuff I swear! ACHOOO”

Genesis mostly consumes coffee with enough sugar in it to stun a horse, however he does like matcha. His go to tea though is a dried Banora white blend his father’s grounds keeper used to make. It was more of a herbal infusion than a tea, but with a generous about of honey and some cinnamon stick it used to calm Gen right down. Frank would give it to him when he’d stormed out the house crying because of his parents. The two would then sit together in Franks little kitchen and inhale the scent as a grounding technique. It still works.

Sephiroth he likes earl gray. Gast used to drink it when teaching Sephiroth all sorts of things, sometimes he’s give Seph his own little cup and they’d have a mini heated debate about the crime that is putting milk in earl gray. Gast said it made it more palatable, while Sephiroth is of the belief that it is an offence punishable by death. He has some opinions about tea.

Zack ? You think he drinks anything but energy drinks? Bah! Nope! He doesn’t actually like hot drinks, not even cocoa, says it all tastes weird when it’s not cold. Angeal did once give him a sleep tea for his insomnia that he tried and it knocked him out like a brick to the head. It made him suspicious of all tea.

Cloud likes milky black tea (so what most brits drink basically) kalm breakfast blend that his ma used to keep for guests they never had. He likes it to be pale with milk, because of course he does. He also likes peppermint tea for after he’s murdered his insides with that much milk in his tea.

Squall “coffee, black, I don’t do tea”. He’s a lier. He doesnt actually like coffee it just keeps him awake long enough to withstand the horrors. His actual favourite tea is a blend Selphie gave him for his anxiety. It’s spiced camomile and vanilla with roasted chicory root and some honey. Like Genesis Squall gets a little out of control of himself sometimes and needs the smell and the warmth to ground himself back to reality. Drinking it lowers his blood pressure quite significantly.