#is she flirting? is she using it dismissive? is she just gentle? is she patronizing? does she wanst the other to feel welcome? WHO KNOWS

[irrfahrer]

Caynes feet on the ground did not made any sound because he did not walked like someone with feet would walk, Ziv heard. Caynes scent and the pheromones were not read by Ziv on the others state of mind or physical health, because he did not used the pheromones that a body like his would usually emit, Ziv smelled.

Caynes movements did not left the vibrations in the Tynnans Vibressea, as someone of his size would usually do, Ziv felt.

The Tynnan with the naturally horrible bad eyesight of her species did not needed to see the others hand glitching into a tentacle and back to a humanoid illusion, to know that there was something very wrong about her visitor. She never trusted her eyes anyway. Also Ziv did not cared.

He was here to learn and Ziv was more than willing to help and support anyone who was willing to learn. Also Ziv liked to show her gardens.

Teaching and learning, especially about healingherbs and terraforming as topics to help people, was never bad, in fact, it was the most noble thing one could do as a teacher. So whatever or whoever her visitor was,was not important. Also Ziv loved teaching and Cayne was willing to be teached. 

Too overly dramatically to be serious in the slightest, Ziv placed a small paw on her chest and gasped theatralically from between sharp teeth: “That you say when honey is the best kriffing antiseptic you can find at any planet where there are some kind of bee-relative? The poor kriffing sugar, what a kriffing bad name you give it! How could you!” The Tynnan managed to keep up the dramatic facade for exactly one more second, before she wriggled her fluffy ears like a humanoid would wriggle their eyebrows, wildly enough to make her earpiercing plink. Carefully she turned around, holding the fruit in one of her small paws:

“I am joking, don´t worry.You are right, yeh, sugar is not exactly the best thing to put on a kriffing injury, but what we will use from this fruit is not the sweet fruitflesh, but the silver peel. What the tree does to keep insects away from the fruitflesh that is to support its seeds, are chemicals and enzyms that work poisonous for the insects on the trees homeplanet. But as it is often, its the amount of the Kriffey that makes the poison and in our case its poisonous enough to kill bacteria in an injury and keep it clean, but not poisonous enough to actually hurt me by entering my body through the open injury.I mean,I know I am a tiny kriffer and you are-” she looked up to Cayne, then down on him and tilted her head to the side with a smile that showed the sharp ends of her carnivorous teeth. The Tynnan did not said anything about the height of the others disguise, because in a dark part of her mind she knew it was a disguise like a small animal would instinctive know a coming but yet not seen stormwave would drown it and could never be survived or stopped by anything the small animal could ever do, but yet the humor was still in her voice: “...-Well. I and you are for sure bigger than the insects that bite on the trees homeplanet into the peel, so that poison is not enough to actually hurt us. The kriffing opposite, actually. Also, have you ever eaten the fruitflesh I mean, I have to look out for what I eat, so its kriffing sharp no for me because 90% of my diet is kriffing blood, bonemarrow and flesh, but when you are already here I could actually let the fruit be eaten and enjoyed instead of using the fruitflesh as compost.” Ziv turned around, cheeped quietly and held a free paw to her side where the sudden movement stabbed a flash of pain from a broken rip into her torso, before, taking deep breaths for a few seconds. She forced the pain down and continued on the narrow, beaten path. Although her voice sounded a little more flat than before and her movements were heavier: “Come along, pup. There is still another herb to get and then I show you how you can prepare those, yeh? Small steps and small beginnings and all that Kriffery. ”

[ @visceratorn​ ]

“  who  did  this  to  you  ?  ” || from @visceratorn

Send “ who did this to you ? ” for the sender to find the receiver injured and demand to know who did it.

The others question made Ziv think about the pirates that had only hours ago raided the hangar, held her down a second after she had locked the biodome. The others question made Ziv think about sitting here in the hangar on the overthrown cargoboxes with half her watertanks gone and azure sunlight dying the cuts in her flesh, that she was carefully cleaning and bandaging, into a soft lavender.

The others question made Ziv think about the sudden unease she had felt when the visitor had approached her, not a fear, not a unreasonable disgust for the other, nothing like this she could not ignore to support someone who was curious for botanical knowledge and who was willing to learn. But a instinctive reaction like from a mouse seeing a cat for the first time, not recognizing its danger or nature, but recognizing that the sharp claws could be cutting flesh and the frontal-looking eyes were made for hunting. The others question made Ziv think that despite all this, she really did not wanted to have the bandites met the visitor for their own safety. The others question made Ziv think about all this and more, as she put the syringe with liquid painkillers against the bloody edge of the scatterd fur and flesh on her cheek and without any hestiation pushed the needle in her own flesh and injected the painkillers. She hissed over the sharp pain of the needle in her face, but only a few seconds later a numb feeling started to slowly spread over her face as if drops of icy water were dripping on her face and muzzle, numbing her facial muscles. Opening and closing her jaws to make sure she could still properly talk, the Tynnan said eventually from between razorsharp teeth: "Noone I couldn´t take kriffing care of myself, cub." It was a lie of course- if she would be able to take care of the pirates herself, she wouldn´t sit here in the hangar with bloodd yeing her colourless pelt red and a face that felt numb, almost like a piece of flesh placed dead on her long neck. Yet Ziv ahd worked long enough as a botanist to know that the only reason she was hired for terraforming and reconstruction of by natural disasters destroyed communitys with botany, was because it was thought that she was able to do all this work on her own without any helpand the Tynnan liked her work and had till now managed to do that work on her own evetually. She put the syringe down beside her on the cargobox and started to carefully and almost scientifically move her legs and arms to test how she could move without causing herself more pain. Slowly she slided off the Cargoboxes, grimacing on the burning sensations in her injuries.

"However, you can do me the favour and pluck some stuff for me, because I happen to be a kriffing short person and for now my arms do not want to go past my kriffing head," she lifted her short arms and hissed when her left side with the newly put in shoulder sended a pain like a sharp blade down her torso to her hindpaws. Hasty she let her arms sink down again: "- so yeh, if you want to help, pluck me the plants I show you. You are here for the plants in the biodome anyway, yeh? So why not start your first kriffing lesson with some kriffing healingherbs for your poor kriffed up teacher who moans the kriffing fact that she had kriffing bones that can be broken and flesh that can be kriffing bruised. You know, I wouldn´t have had anything against beeing born as a kriffing octopus, without any bones that can be broken, but no, kriffing no, I was born as a kriffing mammal with bones and flesh and I am suffering because of that since I was pushed out of my kriffing dam. Well, whatever, I eat octopus as part of my kriffing normal speciesspecific diet and also a kriffing revenge, so who is the winner here now, eh?" the young woman laughed and promptly regretted it because it hurted in her chest and made her left shoulder sting. A little less enthusiastic than her spech from before the Tynnan hobbled forward to the metaldoor connecting the hangar with the actual biodome to put in the password- the pirates had taken away one of her harvest machines and half of her watertanks, but the had had no interest at what was growing inside the biodome. It had been a mistake, the species growing inside the dome were samples of seldom plants that were not only millions of years old, but that could survive in the most extreme enviorments, making them useable for every community across the Galaxy and therefor also easily sellable to most communitys across the Galaxy and as precious as diamonds.

The airlock opned and a scent of pretrichor washed into the hangar like a wave. Ziv waved the newcomer to her side and walked inside- the biodome had a glassdome as its roof and in the late evening the last beams of azureblue sunlight from the far away, hot burning sun fell into the forest beneath. In the azure sunlight the young trees growing not higher than Cayne yet, grew past beds of high grass that swayed a little in a warm breeze coming from the airfilters like algea in a tropical ocean. There were no roads between the different beds, but there were paths of bare soil barely as wide as a hand on which Ziv usually walked. " So ears turned up and come along, cub.", the Tynnan said and balanced on the thin beaten paths past hydroponic beds in which fish were colourfully swimming beneath put high pots of crops whichs long roots reached into the ponds; and past the different beds of flowers and grass towards the middle of the dome where a big tree was reaching with long, thin branchs towards one side of the dome to form a nestled roof of branches from which hung silver fruits. The sunlight was not able to pierce through this formed roof of intervined branches, so the silver huecoming from the fruits was not reflecting sunlight but cam from the fruits themself that looked like pieces of glassshards.Ziv wantd to rise a arm but noticed a second too late that she could not rise her arms above her head and instead she only winced and nodded her head towards the fruits: "One of those. Their juice is antiseptic. Get me one down here and I show you how to cut and prepare it into medicine, yeh?"

[ @visceratorn ]

[rayofsunas]

baby daddy | kaeya [2]

A/n: so already, in the first five minutes of me beginning to write tumblr decided to delete stuff again, so that’s pretty swag ;-; but nonetheless, I’m alright lmao, I’ve been super happy this week ever since I pulled xiao AND mona after wanting to give up plsss. also, I can’t exactly remember if I gave Klara a age in the last part, so I would just like to clarify that she’s one lol. anyways, here’s part two and I hope you guys enjoy!! it took me four hours to write this

Summary: kaeya wants to set a good example for his children, naturally. so he’s given up a lot of things, one being his excessive drinking. but being a knight is hard, despite how nonchalant he seems and he finds himself slipping sometimes… when you find out about it, you’re less than happy and decide spending time with the children would be a good idea for him. he’s more than happy to spend time with the three little monsters, but, he never realized what a normal day was for you when taking care of them.

Parings: Kaeya/Fem! Reader

Warnings: children, fluff, reader and kaeya are mid 20s, alcohol, Klara and Katheryne are friends because I said so, stan Katheryne she helps us so much-

Word count: 2.3k

The sun was slowly but surely rising, leaving beautiful orange and yellow hues to paint the usually bright blue sky, and Kaeya couldn’t be happier. Unlike the last couple of days, he’d been able to wake up, eat a quiet breakfast with you before the kids woke up though he tried and successfully tried to flirt his way into your already claimed heart, and then when Klara woke up, he got the chance to contently feed the wailing little girl; something he shockingly missed. 

Even if at that moment, the tears and cries were a lot more than he could handle, he was more than happy to do something too trivial, just because he was spending more time with her. And unlike the other days, he’d been able to take her for her morning walk, before he’d have to report to headquarters.

Most citizens were still asleep, though very few could be seen preparing for the days work, a few stall owners he noted, as he held Klara’s tiny chubby hand and helped her walk through the town, though she greatly seemed to like speed, already worlds ahead with her mobility. 

“Slow down, my little Mist Flower.” She was moving as fast as her little legs could take her, straight towards Katheryne who sometimes gave the little girl trinkets, saying adventurers had brought back things they didn’t wish to keep or had no use for. Even if Klara couldn’t really speak, she knew little things, “Thank you” was one of them, so she was always grateful despite not knowing exactly what they were. And although Katheryne seemed to not be human, some sort of machine with a very robot-like tone, she also made sure to let little Klara know how happy she was to give the youngest Alberich little trinkets. 

“Good morning, Katheryne.” Kaeya called, grinning when his daughter’s eyes widened at the mention of the kind receptionist. As the pair approached the young woman, Klara yanked on her father's white cloak, instructing him to lift her into his arms, so she could get a better look, and Katheryne, usually behind the tall wooden counter.

“Oh- good morning, Captain Kaeya!” The woman exclaimed, eyes lighting up when she saw the little girl she adored very much. “And little Klara, good morning.” She was happy to see the pair well, seeing as though she hadn’t seen Klara in days. 

“Hi, Kat...” Klara whispered with a shy smile, Katheryne smiled even more because of the use of the nickname she’d been given.

She was just the most adorable little girl ever, Katheryne couldn’t help but think. 

All three Alberich children were the sweetest, though obviously, Klara had a sweet place in her heart especially. Adrien was an identical copy of you, sarcastic, very stubborn, but very respectable for such a young age. And Elena was a smart cookie, a young girl who enjoyed questioning and correct everyone and everything that she came across. Lastly, little Klara, who had much growing to do was the pride and joy of the large Alberich family. Everyone adored her and she continuously swayed hearts wherever she went, just her cute curiosity alone was enough to bring a smile to even Wagner’s face, who typically seemed grumpy. 

Katheryne felt very lucky to have met them in this lifetime, they were a gift from the Archons, truly. Everyone knew Katheryne as the Adventurer Guild's Receptionist but to Klara? She was Kat, a generous friend who gave her gifts. 

Though a sad frown graced the young woman's lips, Kaeya ever so observantly caught on, something was wrong.

“I’m very saddened to say this, but I’m afraid there aren’t any new trinkets suitable enough for little Klara today...” Yes indeed was the receptionist saddened, evident by every feature on her face. “There’s been a shortage it seems of adventurers and travelers willing to take the commissions.” The brunette stated.

“Why is this?” The Cavalry Captain questioned, silently huffing when the one-year-old attached to his hip kept chewing on his white fur cloak, closest to his neck. Great, another issue added to the mix. Maybe she had begun teething again? Archons, Kaeya really felt as though he’d missed so much, seeing as though he couldn’t remember the last time his youngest daughter had teethed or even if she'd stopped entirely together. In short, he probably hadn’t been there for that either, courtesy of his position and job. 

“From my understanding, there have been more hoards of monsters, and something about a mutation as well,” Noted Katheryne, watching as the curiosity built upon the man's features. “Would you like to take a few of the commissions? To show Acting Grand Master Jean?”

The part bout there being an abundance of monsters did sound familiar, he’d been hearing about that a lot recently, but mutated forms as well? That was new... He’d have to bring that up today at the briefing, maybe Jean would know more than he currently did. 

“None of that will be necessary. I’m heading there now, after I drop Klara off back home, I’ll just forward the information to her personally.” Katheryne nodded, seemingly getting sidetracked and entranced by the bright violet-eyed toddler staring at her, with her father's white fur cloak still in her mouth. 

Adorable. 

She still couldn’t help but feel bad though. The only trinkets that had been brought back from any scarce, but recent missions were partially damaged swords waiting for Wagner to fix or scrap into new materials.

Such a thing did not belong in the hands of a child, nonetheless the ever so gentle Klara Alberich, she was too sweet for this world to be handed a complimentary sword, even if she had heard Kaeya say the countless amount of times that he wanted to eventually teach each of the children how to use a sword, preferring to start earlier, rather than later. And from Katheryne’s overheard? She now knew it had been somewhat of a topic of discussion between you and Kaeya, causing mini spouts of anger and frustration. 

Archons, how she wishes she had something suitable to give the little girl...

Katheryne nervously fidgeted. “Oh and about the trinkets-”

The usual daily gifts Kaetheryne would give to Klara, were absent today. Due to one big factor; adventurers and travelers weren’t taking commissions, therefore, they weren’t bringing back what Katheryne saw as unique finds, but they claimed to have no use for.

“No worries,” He was more worried about the fact that adventurers weren’t taking commissions instead of the usual trinkets Katheryne would give his daughter, nonetheless he offered reassurance. It really was no big deal.

Kaeya indeed was something else entirely, Katheryne concluded. A mind reader, some sort of witch- just different. How had he known without her even saying anything?

She was stunned for quite some time, though still feeling guilty despite his supposed reassurance. The guilt partially stemmed from the fact that Klara was staring so intently at her, with big blue-purple-hued eyes, unknowingly being one of the main stressors of Katheryne’s guilt... 

“Klara has too many nicknacks anyways,” You and Kaeya were sure she’d be some kind of trinket collector when she was older, seeing as though she had so many already. “Y/n says you spoil her.” Kaeya’s statement almost sounded like he was scolding her, but if not for the grin and chuckle he offered that immediately followed, she wouldn’t have known he was being entirely playful. 

“That is not my intention. She’s just so adorable, I cannot stop myself,” Kaeya laughed, glancing down at the toddler. She was adorable, his little Mist Flower.

“If it bother you or Miss Y/n, I’ll-”

“It’s quite alright, Katheryne, no need to worry,” Kaeya announced smoothly, dramatically waving his hand to show he was dismissing her statements of protest and concern.

“Alright...”

Eventually, Kaeya did take his leave, much to Katheryne’s dismay. She’d probably see Klara tomorrow, if he stayed true to his schedule, so she remained hopeful and excited for tomorrow. 

Before he knew it, Kaeya was bringing Klara home, giving you and Elena - who was now awake - hugs and kisses, telling you both to let Adrien know he loved him and that he’d return soon - he was still asleep. And then just like that Kaeya was out the door again and off to headquarters.

-

No one expected him to be at the Cat’s Tail this late at night, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected nor rare by any means, he was a familiar face after all. 

It was unexpected because Kaeya claimed he had given up the incessant and excessive drinking years ago when his firstborn, Adrien graced Teyvat. Sadly, it was expected, because it seemed he’d been in here more in the last week than in the last few years... Though, patrons who often visited the tavern were all betting on the fact that you were entirely clueless to how much he’d been drinking; they were right. You were too busy taking care of the children and training to hopefully join the Knights again, to even keep up with your husband's drinking habits. So, it went unnoticed. 

Diluc though, who was often at the tavern, noticed it unlike you. Kaeya had been a great pretender, a great spy; good at keeping secrets, but when he had secrets, somehow Diluc always found himself finding out first, if not second, closely behind you. And unfortunately - Diluc thought - he was on the more personal spectrum concerning the certain Knight... He was his brother, your brother in law, an uncle... He disliked what Kaeya was doing, greatly. Especially since it felt as though his idiotic brother was going behind his family's back. No, he hadn’t promised to quit entirely, but he’d made it seem that way to you. Probably a fabrication so you wouldn’t worry... 

Diluc should’ve known he'd find himself back here again, trying to get his once again, idiotic brother, to leave and go home. The pyro user couldn’t understand. His brother had everything he didn’t. A beautifully devoted wife, three amazingly easy children, a status many simple Knights and Guards would kill for; Captain. And he’d rather risk it all for a drink or two, maybe three.

You thought nothing of it. Kaeya was out late a lot, more often than not patrol and paperwork held him from returning home, but on the rare occasions that he had a sliver of free time that wasn’t spent with you and the kids, he was drinking. 

You always knew when he wouldn’t be returning, in the form of a letter from Kaeya, stating he was alright but would be staying to do paperwork, etc. It would be brought by one of his underlings, Knights or Guards in training. But when that letter never came, you panicked. 

Was he alright? He never forgot to write... Maybe he was held up?

Thankfully, Lisa had decided to come over for tea earlier and had still been here trying her best to reassure you, after seeing how worried you’d been after not receiving any letter. 

“You should probably return home, I’ll be alright.” You kept reassuring the librarian, though she wasn’t falling for it. She could practically feel the stress and anxiety oozing off of you, it was concerning. 

You could only be thankful Amber had been busy and couldn’t come over for tea or else she would’ve ripped Kaeya a new one when she got ahold of him. He’d never be able to leave for missions again, without getting a reminder from Amber to reach out or else...

“Darling, I’m not leaving until he returns.” She took your hands in hers, hoping to offer you comfort. Lisa had always been there for you, which you were very thankful

She had no prior experience with children, though she was incredible with your own. You figured because she was one of the older members of the Knights of Favonius, she had taken more of a big sister role and the youngers looked up to her wisdom. Though she wasn’t much older than you, only by five or six years, so she was really like an older sister towards you as well. Lisa was a very kind woman, you appreciated her tons.

“Maybe I should go find him? I could ask around...”

“Please don’t stress, Y/n,” Lisa said. “You’re too beautiful to stress. I trust that he’ll be here soon.”

Lisa was in fact right. Kaeya returned soon after she had said he would. Master Diluc knocked on the door close to midnight, hanging off his arm was your drunk husband. When you saw him slumped on his brother's shoulder, you immediately assumed the worst. Maybe he’d been physically harmed. You were under the impression he had stopped drinking. 

But then, when you allowed Diluc to step further into the house, you got a huge waft of what you quickly recognized as alcohol. Surprisingly enough for Diluc, you didn’t yell, instead, you just stared at Kaeya with disappointment, gravitating towards him to try and take him from his brother's arms. 

“Thank you Diluc, I’m sorry you had to deal with this so late.”

The Ragnivndr wanted to scold his brother, for making a fool of himself and you, leaving you worried and disappointed. But, using better judgment, Diluc just nodded and offered an understanding and apology, on behalf of his out of it brother. 

“It’s quite alright, I-”

“I’m sorry he had to come home this way,” Diluc stated, glaring at the taller man.

You hummed, helping Kaeya stumble into your living room, both Lisa and Diluc watching with worried gazes from the door. “Don’t worry, I’m just glad he’s safe.”

Diluc once again, realized his idiotic brother did not deserve you or your kindness and understanding. He was one lucky man, that was for sure.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree​

2.10.21, rayofsunas

[shih-coulda-had-it]

193 for... maybe nanahiko? Really just do whatever ship you feel like :D

193. "Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!" | VestigesTorino [Yes. OT8. The orgies are fantastic, and Torino is Holder bait, 8th and 9th exempt.] | WC: 2,222 of an OFA!VampireCoven!AU except op has taken liberties with worldbuilding.

TW: Blood-drinking. Outrageous flirting. Mildly spicy!

//

“Vampires,” Sorahiko echoes blankly.

He looks from left to right, trying to spot the differences between himself and the six adult men and one adult woman sitting at this round table. Most atypical appearances can be attributed to the strange and wondrous natures of Quirks, so Sorahiko could excuse the fourteen red eyes (every iris the identical shade) as a matter of Quirk heritage. However, none of the Shigarakis resemble the other.

They still might be pulling his leg.

The leader of the household (presumably) leans his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers. “Torino-san,” he says in a gentle voice, “we greatly appreciate your timely rescue of our youngest. And believe me when I say I would have preferred you stay ignorant of my coven’s true nature.”

“But the boy wants to be a professional hero,” one of the men interrupts. His arms are crossed, and his hair sticks up in rakish angles. An X-shaped scar has been carved over the bridge of his nose, just missing the eyes.

He sounds dismissive of the kid’s dream.

Fair. When Sorahiko had stepped onto the moonlit scene, the kid was frantically scrabbling at a thick-skinned villain’s hand, trying to save his bag from being rummaged. The villain had planted a knee in the kid’s stomach in an attempt to menace him into silence.

Sorahiko pounced on the villain, called in the location to pick up the too-heavy bastard, and escorted the boy home. He fielded questions about heroics and U.A. High for half an hour before they finally reached the Shigaraki compound.

And now he is here, trapped in a gigantic dining room, being told about vampires.

“We agreed to let him try,” says the singular woman sharply.

“If you three hadn’t filled his head about saving the world,” a man with a spiky ponytail shoots back, “then we wouldn’t have this problem. And you too, Yoichi.”

“Nevertheless,” the leader says. His red eyes gleam in the low light, and Sorahiko feels his skin prickling at the attention.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Ah, who hasn’t heard of the toughest teacher of U.A.?” another man asks, sly and teasing. His voice is soft like the leader’s, but perceptibly younger. His coloring is similar to the woman’s, but he’s lean where she’s muscular. “Yoichi believes we should give you a head’s up. Toshinori is a good child, but even he will slip from time to time, and that will draw undue attention to himself.”

Sorahiko considers these seven faces. Slowly, he says, “You think he’ll be accepted into U.A.”

“Three of us are active pro-heroes, and we’ve been training him when we can,” the woman informs him. “I’d say he’s got a headstart compared to all of your first years.”

“My students have always been terrible. That’s what schooling is for.”

She flashes a smile at him, toothy and amused; his throat works through a sudden dry spell. Belatedly, Sorahiko realizes that every adult in this kitchen is eyeing him with intense interest. Even the ones that haven’t spoken yet.

Yoichi speaks again. “He’s smart, and he’ll be strong. U.A. will accept him. I ask you for your discretion and help, Gran Torino.”

He could refuse, but Sorahiko assumes they’ll simply kill him. Being blackmailed is a low possibility; Sorahiko doesn’t have much to be blackmailed about. And pro-heroes disappear all the time. No one really knows why. Principal Shi might demand an investigation on Gran Torino’s behalf (and possibly at the behest of Recovery Girl, who grudgingly acknowledges Torino’s efforts to raise the survival rate of U.A.’s graduates), but otherwise…

Still. Vampires. Another subset of humanity, among the Quirked and Quirkless. It’s weird enough to be true.

“Is this a verbal agreement?” Sorahiko asks.

A bark of laughter from the square-jawed man in the leather jacket, who leans forward and grins like a shark at Sorahiko. The light glints off the yellow lenses of his goggles, and the play of light and shadow highlights the muscle definition of the man’s shirtless chest. In a rich, low voice, he says, “We’ve got something better. A contract.”

“Using what?” Sorahiko bites back. “Paper and ink?”

“Skin and teeth, teach’.”

“Daigoro’s correct,” says Yoichi mildly, snatching Sorahiko’s attention away. “Torino-san, allow me to introduce my coven. I am Shigaraki Yoichi, second of my line. In the order of which my coven grew: Kenzo, Sanjuro, Hikage, Daigoro, En, Nana, and you’ve met our Toshinori.” As he speaks, he points to each person in turn.

He wonders when the kid got folded into this group. The kid’s affection for his home had been sincere, and he greeted the adults (well, Hikage had only come out of the forested grounds at Daigoro’s call) with merry cheer.

Is Toshinori even a vampire? U.A. conducts its business in the daytime.

Sorahiko nods in acknowledgement and doesn’t offer his full name in return. Instead, he says, “If I accept this contract, will you tell me whatever I want to know? About anything I ask?”

“Even vampires aren’t omniscient,” Yoichi answers.

Rolling his eyes, Sorahiko clarifies, “If the kid’s going to develop vampirism over the course of high school, then I need to know things. Like whether or not he’ll go feral over spilled blood. Or if sunlight’s going to be an issue.”

Yoichi’s smile is kind, and surprisingly not patronizing. “What we can tell, we will. The contract will have a mutual hold on us all.”

“What could break it?”

“A different coven, not that you should seek one out,” says Nana. “Trust us, we’re as nice as you get in the supernatural world.”

Sorahiko does not have many options. He hates the idea of agreeing to this without a safety net or a contingency plan. How can this woman ask him to trust them immediately? He’d have to be a gullible idiot, or a fool in lust, or...

He exhales. Sighing in resignation, Sorahiko tips his head to Yoichi and says, wry, “I accept the contract. Don’t kill me if your kid comes crying home about how mean I am.”

Yoichi shrugs, casual as anything. “Toshinori’s quite brave for his age, and stubborn, too. You’ll have your hands full training him.” He then stands from his chair; in measured, unhesitating steps, Yoichi approaches where Sorahiko sits at the opposite side of the round table. What he orders, Sorahiko complies with. “Take your cape off, Torino-san. Your gloves as well.”

“You may have to unzip the top half of your suit,” advises Hikage. “You won’t want the signatures to overlap.”

“Signatures,” Sorahiko repeats, pausing.

One glove’s already off. The flight suit’s sleeves extend up to his wrists, and they don’t have a lot of give. Similarly, the collar is skin-tight and provides ample coverage.

Daigoro playfully snaps his teeth at Sorahiko, once, twice. He says, “Paper and ink, skin and teeth. You forget already?”

The man barely flinches at the snarl directed his way. Seven pairs of eyes are honing in on the exposed flesh; Sorahiko shoves his self-conscious thoughts away. He focuses on the sheer outrage of being asked to strip by strangers, hissing, “Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!”

“I’ll make sure he stays in his room,” Nana volunteers. She winks at Sorahiko. “We’ll be quick, Torino-san. You just have to keep quiet.”

“You—!”

She slips from her chair and darts off, exiting the dining room and ascending the stairs, floating off the floor. Sorahiko glares after her but snaps to attention as Yoichi stops by his chair, hip resting against the table, red eyes expectant.

Grudgingly, Sorahiko works off the second glove. As he does, Yoichi continues to lecture.

“The signatures can be made in two ways. A lighter bite will result in less pain, but will fade sooner. And I’d like for this arrangement to stand for several years, Torino-san. A lighter bite necessitates more renewals. Possibly, seven bites every two weeks.”

“And a stronger bite?”

“Seven every month.”

He scowls at the thought. The only silver lining he can see is that his suit will cover the marks, which will save him from his colleagues’ gossiping tongues. “Monthly, then. Are you drinking my blood? I don’t think I’ve got enough to cover seven appetites.”

Yoichi offers him a gentle smile. “A mouthful will suffice.”

Sorahiko works his jaw, and then he reaches backwards for the hidden zipper. It’s incongruously loud in the dining room; Sorahiko feels his face burning as he hurriedly rips his arms free of the sausage casing sleeves, letting the slackening front of the suit crumple to his lap. He hears an appreciative whistle.

“Daigoro, he can give you a run for your money,” Sanjuro jokes.

“He’s softer,” Daigoro deems, and Sorahiko bristles. “Must be the suit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he snaps. “And proper hydration, asshole.”

“I’m not complaining!”

“At ease,” says Yoichi, calm, and that’s when Nana makes her reappearance. She swings back into the dining room, expression confident and content, until she spies Sorahiko’s half-naked appearance.

“Are we going in order?” she questions Yoichi, even as her eyes are trained on Sorahiko’s.

“That’s how it works, Nana,” Kenzo answers for their leader. “How’s Toshinori?”

“Watching his martial arts dramas. We’re good for like, fifty minutes.”

“You said you’ll be quick,” Sorahiko rasps, and his hands are clenching into fists, anticipatory and anxious. This is all so incredibly weird. “You all need more than five minutes to bite me?”

Yoichi laughs. It’s a bright sound, attractive and human and not at all like something that should be coming out of a self-proclaimed bloodsucker. When Yoichi moves, pushing off the table, Sorahiko nervelessly allows himself to be pinned to the back of his chair. One hand cards through his hair and lightly tugs; the other hand settles at his shoulder and presses it down.

His throat is exposed. Though Yoichi bends close, Sorahiko knows it isn’t the jugular he’s aiming for.

“Torino-san will need a moment to recuperate,” Yoichi whispers, and Sorahiko shivers, swallows past the apprehension, and spends half a second regretting his decision to let this happen. Yoichi adds, “We will not harm you, and you will not harm us. Your help, in exchange for ours. Let it be so.”

Teeth sink into the join of Sorahiko’s neck and shoulder, sharp and surprisingly hot. Sorahiko chokes out a garbled sound and jerks in his seat, until Yoichi’s bite goes deeper, deeper, and then Sorahiko gasps. Adrenaline bursts to life in his system; his Quirk sputters a reflexive Jet through his boots, but Yoichi’s slender frame hides an unseen strength.

He holds Sorahiko down.

He draws blood from the wound. Sorahiko barely feels the drain, fixated he is on the pressure exerted against him. Every single one of them is going to have the capacity to do this. If Yoichi, whose frame is most similar to En’s, can keep Sorahiko from bolting—Sorahiko arches his back, an involuntary moan escaping him.

It feels good. It feels really, really good.

Yoichi hums against his skin, pleased as punch, and his teeth retract. Sorahiko feels the tongue lap over the mark, heavy with spit. As Yoichi rears back, Yoichi rolls his neck lazily, licking his lips like a cat full from its meal.

“The saliva is a coagulant,” he explains idly, watching Sorahiko slump back against the chair, lungs still stuttering. A faint sweat has broken across his forehead, and Sorahiko distantly suspects that he’s going to need all the time he can get before the kid grows bored of his dramas.

“Oh, he already looks wrecked,” En observes. His awed tone elicits a laugh and encouraging clap to his shoulder from Daigoro, the latter of which requires En to brace against.

“You think he’ll last seven bites?”

“To be fair,” Hikage says, “that is a common erogenous zone. We’ll focus on less stimulating areas.”

Sorahiko, somewhat nettled at the implication that he won’t last (and what the hell does that mean? That he’ll back out? Start begging for mercy?) all seven signatures, musters his strength and shoves himself upright. He scoffs exaggeratedly, masking a shaky exhale with it. He challenges the coven, “Do your fucking worst.”

Yoichi blinks. Behind him, Kenzo is leaving his seat and stalking towards Sorahiko’s, red eyes gleaming. Before Kenzo can dive at Sorahiko and probably tear an artery out, Yoichi holds him back with one placating hand.

“Do not,” Yoichi warns. “We’re not trying to induce a thrall, do you all hear me?”

“Yoichi,” says Sanjuro, “if the man gets off, he gets off.”

A sigh leaves Yoichi. “Be that as it may. Please try not to leave him resentful for the months ahead.” He pats Kenzo’s collarbone; Kenzo catches the thin-boned hand and raises it to his lips.

“Understood, Yoichi,” Kenzo murmurs into the knuckles. He lets go, and Yoichi moves aside, now more fond than exasperated. A safety net, maybe.

In any case, Sorahiko gazes up at number two, who studies him back.

“The shoulder?” suggests Sorahiko, half-heartedly offering the right one up to sacrifice.

Kenzo inclines his head. “Just above the bicep will work,” and he goes on to prove his point, keeping Sorahiko locked in position, unable to do anything but wriggle and fail to contain strangled moans.

This is going to be a long hour.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Apple Cinnamon Buns

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: visual prompt [submitted by @mandelion82​]

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss and Prim enjoy a late fall day at a Christmas market when Katniss discovers a booth that sells the most delicious treats and run by a delectable man with deep blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

Author’s Note: Visual prompt under the cut.

_________

Katniss shivered and tugged her fleece jacket tighter around her shoulders. She was used to being up this early but not surrounded by people at this hour. The sun was barely over the horizon, but Panem’s Harvest Festival was already in full swing. Prim, her little sister, bopped along beside her, a grin on her face, as the Everdeen sisters prepared to take the world by storm.

Or attempt to get ahead on Christmas shopping, at least. It wasn’t that serious.

“Who do you have to shop for?” Prim asked, yawning as she spoke. She wasn’t a morning person, and the fact that she’d pestered Katniss for weeks to attend as well as gotten up early when she didn’t have to was evidence enough the Harvest Festival was important to her.

“Not too many,” Katniss answered, rolling her Christmas list like a movie trailer in her head. “Gale, Mom, Uncle Haymtich, you. The usual.”

“Gale, huh? Is that because…”

“We’re just friends, Prim. I’ve told you that a million times,” Katniss insisted. “I’m not interested in anything else. Neither is he. I’m like his little sister. He doesn’t look at me that way.”

“Maybe you’re not interested in anything else, but I’m about a thousand percent sure that he wants more than friendship from you.”

“Whatever.”

Katniss didn’t mean to be dismissive, but what Prim said just wasn’t true. Gale and she had been best friends for years, and there’d been nothing between them other than a deep friendship the entire time.

“Agree to disagree,” Prim chirped, thoroughly unconcerned. “I have to get something for Mom and Haymitch, too. Let’s work on those, and then we can take off on our own to finish shopping. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

They ambled together, strolling through the stalls, checking out crafts and decorations and all sorts of unusual things Katniss would never have thought would make good gifts until she saw them. They decided on an antique brandy snifter for their uncle and a basket of pampering products for their mother before separating to shop for each other. Katniss had just found and purchased a really cool pocketknife for Gale and the softest pair of cashmere gloves for Prim when she turned the corner and spied a refreshment stand. Her stomach rumbled at the sight.

“Oh, I need some of that,” Katniss murmured, her eyes wide.

She approached slowly, reading signs and sniffing the different aromas that wafted from the stand. Drawn by the promise of something delicious, she drifted close before stopping and staring. She could almost swear she was under a magical spell. Another customer jostled her as she stood, and she shook herself. Just then, she heard a deep voice, sweet and spicy like pumpkin pie.

“Can I help you?”

Katniss locked eyes with the man behind the counter, her eyes captured by his deep blue gaze. Kindness danced there and life and contentment. She wasn’t sure what he was selling, but she wanted all of it.

“I’m— I’m not sure,” she answered, moving a little closer and returning his wide smile. White teeth glimmered behind full, pink, kissable lips. Ashy blonde hair flopped in waves over his forehead, and he tossed his head to get it out of his eyes. Sapphire eyes deep as the mines from which they came sparkled. She wanted to tumble into them and fall forever.

“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asked.

“Yes,” came her immediate response before she blushed bright red. His smirk indicated he understood she’d been talking about another kind of hunger.

“If you want a little something of both, I can make suggestions.”

She nodded, eager for him to keep speaking, craving the sound of the rumbled baritone that filled her ears when he addressed her. Her eyes roved over broad shoulders under red and baby blue flannel sleeves that were rolled up to reveal strong forearms ending in masculine hands with long, tapered fingers. Artist’s hands, she thought. They had to be. When they gestured, she remembered he was talking and snapped to attention.

“Do you like sweet or savory?”

Katniss gaped at him, unable to speak. There was something about the way he’d said the word sweet that made her want to climb over the counter and jump him. Since that was completely inappropriate, she forced herself to answer.

“It depends. I like a little of both.”

His pupils contracted, and he cleared his throat. “Well, we’re known for our apple cinnamon buns, which you can see on the sign down in front. I’d suggest trying one with a scoop of ice cream, but we also have cheese buns if you’d rather try something savory.”

She hesitated, tempted by the idea of cheese buns because they sounded overly delicious, but if they were known for something else, who was she to turn it down?

“I’ll take the apple cinnamon bun, please.”

“Ice cream?”

“I guess?”

He studied her. “Yes, I think so. You’ll enjoy it more that way, I think. Very creamy. Evens out the texture and mixes well with the tartness of the apples. Or we have apple crisp, if that’s more to your liking.”

“No, I like buns,” she blurted and felt her face grow even hotter.

“Funny,” he said with a smile, “so do I. Now, for the drink. That’s harder. We have so many options, and you look like you’d appreciate several of them. My first instinct is apple cider, but that’s a lot of apple going on at once. What about hot chocolate? I think that could be more your thing.”

“I love hot chocolate,” she admitted with a grin. “It’s my favorite.”

“That doesn’t surprise me somehow. You have that look.”

“What look is that?” she asked and was mildly surprised it sounded a little bit like flirting. “Hot? Or Chocolate?”

Blushing furiously, Peeta stammered an answer. “N-no! Just…you… I meant… Yes, hot— That’s not what I meant. More like sweet. With some substance. God, kill me now.”

“Please let me have my bun and sweetness before you’re murdered.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed at her brazenness. What was up with her? This wasn’t her modus operandi with men. Usually, she kept as far from them as possible unless it was Gale. But there was something about this guy. He was gentle and funny and interesting, and she wanted to keep talking to him forever.

Unfortunately, the woman behind her coughed, indicating her impatience, and he hurried to get her food. His co-worker finished with his customer and motioned to the person behind Katniss in line who flashed a glare as she moved up to the register. Katniss didn’t bother to respond, she remained focused on the man warming up the apple cinnamon bun, topping it with a dollop of ice cream, and pouring a cup of hot chocolate. Before he turned back to the register, he counted out a few marshmallows and then added two more to her drink.

“Here you go,” he said. “That’ll be $7.50.”

Katniss fished in her wallet, produced her debit card, and tried to hand it to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, but we only take cash.”

Her face drained. She didn’t have any on her. She rarely carried it, and she hadn’t even thought about pulling out any to bring with her today.

“I-I don’t have any. I’m so sorry.”

The other customer left with her food, and his co-worker, likely a relative since they were so similar in appearance, slipped out the back of the booth leaving them alone.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urged softly. “It’s my treat.”

“You can’t!” she protested. “I’ll find my sister and see if she has cash. I’m… This is so humiliating.”

“Hey,” he said, his tone gentle, “it’s my treat. I know you’re going to love this, and word of mouth advertising is worth more than the cost of a bun and drink. Take it. Please.”

“I couldn’t. Seriously.”

“Please. I insist.” She hesitated for several moments, until he confessed, “Please, because if you wait much longer, my brother’s going to be back, and he’ll see what I’m doing. He can be, uh, a bit of a jerk, so you’d really be doing me a favor.”

She inhaled and held it for a beat before accepting his offering. “Thank you, uh…?”

“Peeta,” he said with a smile. “Peeta Mellark. This is my family’s booth.”

“Katniss Everdeen. Merely a customer at Panem’s Harvest Festival.”

“Well, I’m glad you chose to patron us. It’s been a highlight of the weekend, so far.”

Peeta’s brother returned, and he straightened, standing upright instead of leaning toward her over the counter. “Come by again before you leave,” he suggested. “I’d love to meet your sister.”

Katniss backed away with a nod of thanks. He obviously didn’t feel comfortable continuing the conversation with his brother next to him, so she decided to take the win and go. Glancing at the time, she realized she should be thinking about meeting up with Prim soon. First, though, she was going to eat her apple cinnamon bun and drink her hot chocolate.

The first spoonful melted on her tongue, and she released an indecent moan that would have horrified her if she hadn’t been in the throes of an orgasm in her mouth. There wasn’t a word to describe the explosion on her taste buds, but it was something to the effect of every superlative she could imagine. The hot chocolate was even better. She briefly considered selling herself on the street to get another cup.

“What are you doing?” Prim asked when they met up again. Katniss sat in a stupor, high on sugar and calculating how much more she could eat without quadrupling her daily caloric intake.

“How much cash do you have on you?” she demanded, eyes rolling.

Confused, Prim stared at her. “Why?

“There’s this booth. Best thing ever. Have to go back. They only take cash.” The words tumbled out in a half-coherent babble, but she didn’t care. She needed more of what Peeta had given her.

“Okay,” Prim agreed, although she flashed Katniss a look that indicated she thought her sister was losing it.

Katniss bounced to her feet and grabbed her purchases. Dragging Prim along by the hand, she wound through the stalls until she found Peeta’s booth again. He was still there, helping customers with a friendly smile.

“Oh,” Prim breathed. “I get it now. He’s gorgeous.”

“His buns are better.”

“Well, I can’t see them from here, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Katniss smacked her on the arm. Indignant, she snapped, “His apple cinnamon buns! Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Hard to keep the thoughts pure when a guy looks like that.”

“You know what, Prim? You’re absolutely right. He’s stunning. Let’s go get some of that.”

Katniss had every intention of laying her hands on more of Peeta’s buns. With any luck, she’d get his phone number, too.

[digitalworldbound]

koukari 24 or kenkari 30? sorry for the challenge :p but if you're not comfortable with the pairings, go ahead with takari! :3

Pairing: ken x hikari

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 from the prompt list)

Author’s Notes: I was revisiting my old fanfiction from when I was thirteen, and it reignited my love for cheesy AUs. So, I present to you my first ever KenKari content (I apologize if it is bad, but I've tried my best!)

on the corner of thompson rd. and fifth street stood a quaint structure with walls that appeared to sag and well-worn stairs. a seemingly hand-painted sign hung above the door way read : ♡ book 'n' brew ♡

in full honestly, the crooked hearts would of been enough to draw ken in completely had he not been on a search for a new coffee joint. earlier that september morning, a bug placed strategically in his starbucks cup stirred up the motivation to search for a more tasteful choice in brew.

mindless trotting about lead him to the worn, brick steps. many customers were slightly deterred by the haggard appearance of the building, but ken thought otherwise.

it was charming and smelled of home. plus, the little pink hearts were hard to dismiss.

pulling the smooth handle and trapping the chilly air behind him, ken opened the door and stepped in.

the store was quite small, as expected, but seemingly transported him away. warm fairy lights hung on the edges of tall, oak bookcases. the lights made ken’s dark cerulean eyes dance with wonder. while the oak cases were aging, they were sturdy. books lined the shelves in every way imaginable. when the books filled up the shelves vertically, the left-overs were placed haphazardly in the spaces between, whether that be on top of, in front of, or behind other books. the smell of well-loved pages filtered through the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed something.

the coffee! ken reminded himself.

humming a mindless tune under his breath, he made is way to the countered that was nestled in between two bookcases. plants, napkins and even more books littered the counter top. the owner, however, was nowhere to be found.

"hello?" ken’s crystalline voice called out.

"how may i help you?"

ken made a noise of surprise, not expecting the light, feminine voice to come from behind him.

a girl emerged from behind one of the bookcases, her hair swept to the side and held in place with a barrette. she looked ethereal in her loose dress, the extra fabric making her look like a bird ready for flight. she coughed quietly, her amber eyes drilling into his own with curiosity.

blush erupted like wildfire across ken’s cheeks. the tips of his ears burned in embarrassment. he was caught staring, but the stranger’s beauty was disarming.

"so?" the owner lightly suggested, a gentle reminder that ken still had yet to respond to her initial question.

"oh, yes! i was wondering if you had any coffee?" he finally spoke up. all too late, he realized his mistake. a flush rose to his neck, and ken had half the mind to run out of the store and never return.

raising an arched eyebrow, the stranger purposely flitted her eyes over to the obviously placed coffee pots, before turning her attention back to ken.

"hm, i would say that i do." she chuckled. her dress gently swayed behind her as she slipped behind the counter. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled in his direction.

"obviously." the boy muttered under his breath, embarrassment consuming him alive.

"pick your poison."

ken pretended to ponder his options. on a normal day - which this wasn't - he could always go for a medium roast coffee with creamer and two sugars, but today felt inexplicably different.

"i think i might go with some oolong tea today, if it isn't any trouble."

"of course not, silly. it's one of my personal favorites." the barista smiled. she turned around, completely engrossing herself in the task at hand while ken decided to explore the shop.

his fingers danced on the spines of novels and novellas, enjoying the way they felt beneath his fingertips. as a child, ken never had the attention span for reading. he was always distracted by the butterflies or colorful markers or dandelions. these things were real, and for him, the words in the books weren't.

consumed by his thoughts and the texture of the spines, ken drowned out the shop owner's declaration of warm drinks.

when the surprisingly small hand cupped the boy's shoulder, he jumped, knocking several books from their perch.

"oh no, i'm so sorry. usually, i'm not this clumsy." he offered, quickly picking up the fallen objects and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf. anxiety swirled in stomach; he felt like an absolute fool.

the owner simply smiled and pushed the small mug into ken's cold fingers. how long had it been since he stumbled into the shop? ten minutes? an hour? the thoughts were washed away with the first sip of tea, as the warm, comforting flavor washed away the flush on his cheeks.

"my name's hikari," the mystery barista offered, turning towards the door behind the cluttered counter space, "yell for me if you need anything else." she smiled, then disappeared.

"i'm ken ichijouji!" he called after hikari, but it was too late. her delicate frame had already slipped away, disappearing into further into the shelves.

with a barely distinguishable pout on his pink lips, ken sipped his oolong tea languidly and perched himself in recliner nestled into a dusty corner. the cloth on the seat had once been beautiful, ken was sure. years of patrons had worn away the bright red velvet into a thread-bare pink. it was s comfy, so ken snuggled himself deeper into the chair.

glancing around, he browsed the titles nearest to him.

viva by e.e cummings

pride and prejudice by jane austen

star girl by jerry spinelli

the hobbit by j.r.r. tolkien

hikari apparently had an interest in most things, not unlike ken. they just had interests in different places.

losing interest in the books quickly, ken demolished the luke-warm beverage and placed his dirty mug (that he now realized adorned the same little pink hearts as the sign that hung above the entrance way) next to the coffee pot and hurriedly yelled out his goodbyes.

he closed the old, wooden door, walked down the brick steps, and turned onto thompson rd. his stride was strong and his gaze was fixed onto some imaginative point on the horizon.

ken was on a mission.

-

the rest of his week was rough, even by ken's standards. book 'n' brew had been closed for the past five days, much to his dismay. ken had inherited the ability to burn water and couldn't be trusted to make his own tea. with the name-brand fix no longer being an option, five whole days without caffeine had put ken on edge.

it was a rather dreary sunday. the rain fell in sheets and drenched the ken down too his sock-less toes. inky black hair plastered to his forehead; his eyelashes had already clumped together. his wet sneakers lead him down the familiar cement of thompson rd. and his heart leap into his throat when he saw the lights on in the infamous bookstore.

the warm atmosphere was once again barren of any patrons (besides ken, of course). hikari was much easier to spot, given that she was directly behind the counter. ken’s heart-rate picked up; he was almost giddy.

hikari's hair was swept to the side again, the ends barely dancing across her shoulders. her billowy dress had been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt. an apron hung loosely off her thin frame. she wore the tea stains like accessories. his heart gave another weird flutter.

however, before he could question his reaction, ken became far too preoccupied with the smells of the quaint shop. cinnamon wafted around his ears while cocoa assaulted his nostrils.

the owner physically perked up when the wind chimes above the door sang a song, signaling the first customer of the day.

rain dripped from his clothes as ken walked towards the delicious aromas while mulling over the half-baked plan that he attempted to conceive a week prior.

it wasn't much. he just thought that hikari was impossibly cute and wanted an excuse to strike up a seemingly casual conversation. the only problem that presented itself was the fact that ken absolutely despised reading.

so, during his caffeine withdrawal, ken invested a part of his meager wages into a hoard of "spark notes" books. these were easier to understand and got straight to the point, anyways. every morning of his coffee-less week began with a literary classic. much to his dismay, the plots bored him to tears. lovers would fight and makeup, enemies would always become friends. books were too predictable.

nevertheless, when the shop was finally reopened, ken had the basic knowledge of not one, but five(ish) novels to use as conversation starters. he wanted to be prepared to keep her interest, no matter how small his understanding of the material.

"hello, hikari!" ken chirped, a bright smile spreading across his wind-nipped cheeks.

"good morning, ken ichijouji, how have you been?" though she was talking to him, her eyes never left the countertop she was cleaning. the shadows under her eyes did not go unnoticed, but ken decided against bringing it up.

" i'm great! i've been put off, though, as your shop hasn't been open in nearly a week."

hikari chuckled darkly, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. "don't worry about that. i'm here now. would you like anything to sip on or any novels to escape into today?"

ken was slightly confused by the unusual turn hikari's behavior. her voice was no longer sweet, but laden with exhaustion. however, he let none of this deter him from his mission.

"yes, please. i would like a coffee with creamer and two and a half sugars, please."

the blue-eyed boy watched intently as hikari made his drink. In an effort to bring a smile to her face, ken joked that his preferred his coffee the color of his sun-kissed skin. despite how stupid it sounded, her cheeks warmed as she giggled. looking like an idiot was worth it if it meant that hikari would laugh like that.

"so," ken began as the silence settled in, "have you read any good books lately?" he took a quick sip of his coffee and let the warmth sink to his icy toes. september was almost over, but the chill of october was already creeping around the corner.

the corner of hikari's mouth twitched, and ken’s heart soared when he knew he made the correct choice.

"hm," the young woman started, her body relaxed against the cluttered surface of the counter., "i had you pegged as more of a 'movies-are-better-than-books' type of guy." her elbow grazed a stack of books that were balanced precariously on the edge.

"ah, well, of course not! i have loved reading since primary school." ken stuttered out. his face was a shade of deep red, resembling the worn-out velvet of the chair he was sat in. the lie sat uneasily at the pit of his stomach, but ken pushed it aside.

"well, to answer your question, i just finished the book thief by markus zusak." by now, a smile had warmed up hikari’s amber eyes, brightening the mood. rain still splattered against the shop windows, but the pair paid little mind.

"what was it about?" inquired ken. while he had no interest in reading, he certainly had an interest in whatever hikari was talking about. her slow, languid voice soothed him.

hikari eagerly rambled on and on about the characters and plot, being careful to only tease at the spoilers. ken stared intently into her eyes. he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but he loved every minute of her voice ringing in his ears.

the coffee sat abandoned in his lap, warm long gone and chilly. the raven-haired boy took a drawn out sip, absentminded. furrowed eyebrows and a quirk of the month made hikari giggle in the midst of her story-telling.

once hikari’s story lulled to an end, ken began to talk about the books he didn't really read. he steered away from specifics and danced around with the big ideas. though her attention was divided behind between making herself a cup of tea and ken’s pride and prejudice synopsis, she seemed at ease.

"you remind me of Lydia Bennet, actually.” hikari’s hair whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. ken was too preoccupied with the speech he prepared, one that he was sure would enthrall her. “you have that aura about you.”

“i have the aura of girl that would run away with a grown man at the age of fifteen?” the incredulousness in her voice snapped ken from his coffee-induced stupor. He hands shook. oh god, i should have read the book.

“the sparks notes didn’t mention that part.” his mouth reveals him before his brain can put a stop to it. “oh, god, i’ve ruined everything. i can’t talk to cute people, okay? i don’t know how to flirt!” his absolute, all-consuming panic must have been obvious from the way the warmth crept across his face.

her giggle caught him off guard. “how can you laugh at a time like this? i just compared you to a mother’s worse nightmare.” ken was miserable, doing his best to disappear into the cushion of the recliner.

“because it was endearing to watch you pretend to know what you’re talking about.” hikari said simply, her cheeks pink.

ken only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to respond. Instead, he basked in the warm atmosphere and tried to gain the inertia to take himself to work. while they sat in comfortable silence, mulling in the conversation, hikari leaned down and pried the empty ceramic mug from ken’s now-cold fingertips.

the contact sent a shiver down his spine, his heartrate skipping sporadically in his chest. he was on fire.

and ken knew.

he knew by the blush that rose in the girl’s cheeks, and the look of confusion still in her eyes. ken knew that coffee was good, but it had never tasted better than when he was with her. he had never tried so hard to gain the attentions of the girl, never expecting himself to be willing to do research on a subject that didn't interest him just for the sake of conversation.

the realization shook him to his core.

ken knew that he was falling for her.

so he did what he was best at.

he ran.

"oh my, look at the time. i am going to be late for my shift. it's been good. thanks for the coffee." he slammed a wad of money on the counter and rushed to the door, wind chimes tinkling after him.

hikari's goodbyes were caught in her throat.

[omgkalyppso]

Honeyed Words

How many fics have this title? Probably a million. I wrote something featuring @esaari‘s tes breton oc Philip, and my imperial oc Oretia. Enjoy!

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The grass was cold and wet from vestiges of the midnight frost puddling under the weight of the midday sun. Summer at Winterhold. The worst possible time to be a tome, or scroll, or a visitor. Inside the College, papers were kept magically dry and well kept, but as soon as you stepped one foot into the city, everything wilted with the humidity, including the people.

The citizenry was more amenable to the mages and their initiates since the reconstruction, after the civil war, but that did not forestall all of their prejudices, Philip had noticed. They phrased their suspicions of foreigners, of which he was no longer considered, as warnings of unstable mountaintops, roads that were thin with ice and awaiting unwary travelers, and beasts that roamed beyond their hibernal caves, but he heard the truth behind every bitter courtesy. ‘You are as unwelcome by the land as by our hospitality,’ they cried.

It was why they still lacked a dedicated blacksmith, a tanner, a wheelwright, fishermen — and Nine help that poor dentist who’d tried to move in four months past.

There were new bodies to fill the houses that had been built — carpenters and farmhands, tailors and midwives, but it was no wonder they still had to rely so heavily on the summer caravans.

The largest of the year was present now, the one that circled from Windhelm to Whiterun and Dawnstar, leaving Winterhold with both the last selection from Windhelm and the benefit of what the caravan had collected on its journey, just before they finished their circle and headed back home. The gamut of their venture was nearly complete, and so Philip felt triply insulted by the price being demanded of him to carry scroll and missive — which included a painstaking transcription of an extremely valuable book — to the new astrologer in Windhelm.

“Thirty gold is more than fair,” he insisted. “Twenty would cover a gold a day for the service, and fourteen was the cost last year.”

“Thirty might be fair,” replied the nord man, who was clearly dealing with other problems — but none of them were Philip’s, “but eighty is the cost.”

“Set by you, unreasonably.”

“Are you calling me unreasonable, my lord?” The title had been wrong, but Philip’s choice of words had been fumbling. He needed this, it was important.

“I misspoke. Surely, you are a man who knows his worth and his services, and so, you must know, that it is not up to the College to champion the losses of your caravan. You are headed to Windhelm anyway. I will offer forty, far more than you’d require.”

The nord nodded to someone standing outside of Philip’s periphery, and his shoulders tensed. The temptation to invoke others to grant weight to his title and his person was present, for he was on good terms with his Thane and his Jarl, and Skyrim’s champion of the war; but so too was he Archmage now, and whatever his personal insecurities, knew that he demanded his own respect. He shrugged his elbow towards the person who approached from his side, striking them, if lightly.

“I am not some common miscreant. Do not look to demean me. There are other couriers.”

“Then find one,” replied the nord.

Philip looked to the imperial woman at his side as she spoke and frowned in surprise. She was hobbling a little, unsteady on her feet, and not the manner of muscle he’d expected the nord to be summoning.

“And I wasn’t hired to help with customer service, Herknir. This doesn’t look like a case of banditry.” Her accent was thick and southern, and Philip flinched to look at her more directly as despite her words she still laid a hand upon him — but it was gentle, so much so that he couldn’t even feel it through his robes, on his upper arm, a signal to wait and not a reprimand. Philip took a step away from her anyway, disinterested in her reassurance.

“Take the illustrious Archmage for a walk, Oretia. I can smell the enchantments on him, and I won’t risk the safety of our men to the whims of secret, magical documents without collateral.” Philip blanched, he hadn’t expected Herknir to be thinking of anything beyond what he could get with the money. Herknir pointed a finger at him, to further cement his point, “If it were a message from one of your initiates back to their parents or their sweetheart in Windhelm, then that is one service; but you should know that your time is worth more, and you should be prepared to pay more in the future. Cool your head. Try Tilly’s honey-pops, and come back to me when you’re willing to talk business.”

“Sorry about him,” Oretia sounded exasperated, and Philip had to wonder if she had felt suitably chastised by Herknir over the course of her time with the man, as he did now, sent for a walkabout like a petulant child — though one who had been flirting with the crackle of magic on the edge of his fingers. “And me, I had assumed you were a nobleman. I should not have placed my hand upon you.”

“It is nothing,” Philip assured her, dismissing the perceived insult with a smile — tickled by the idea that she would more readily lay her hands on a Thane. They wove their way through a crowd, where the locals parted naturally by his presence. There was nowhere for Oretia to hide her stumbling.

“But perhaps I owe you an apology? Did I set you so off-balance?”

“Oh!” she laughed. “No, I— My legs are sore. I’d spent the last four days climbing up and down your mountains.”

Philip snorted, infected by his companion’s good humor. “Whatever for?”

She sighed, smiling, wistful. “To see my sister. It had been a few years and she’s settled up there. I thought that, seeing her would make it easier to accept, but now I’m less sure than ever about leaving; but you don’t need to hear about that. What was Herknir so upset about? Do you really have secret, magical documents?”

The way she exaggerated the word was light, teasing, and free of ill-will Herknir had managed to fit into the word.

“I—” Philip scoffed, “I suppose I do. The documents themselves aren’t magical, but few things that leave the College can be described otherwise.”

“Secretive?” Oretia prompted.

“For certain,” Philip assured her.

She seemed to take a measure of him then, a once over with suspicious eyes. Philip wondered what she saw.

“I could leave you now,” she suggested, tilting her head. “I rather doubt you need my company.”

Philip thought of the trader and patrons, and wondered whether for the moment she might need his. He wondered if she was asking for the freedom of privacy or to socialize with a friend from the caravan, but outside the College and inside Winterhold, his friends felt ever fewer, and Oretia had been friendly enough as to prove distracting from his other worries.

“There are a great many things I don’t need, but enjoy regardless. Of course, you’re free to go, and I’ll make my way back to Herknir in due time, but if you’d like to point me towards those honey-pops…?”

Philip felt any lingering stress melt off his shoulders when Oretia brightened.

“They’re very sweet, but delicious,” she insisted, directing them now with purpose. “There are some with raspberries caked in which are wonderful in tea, but they’re just as fine as a little delight.”

Philip bought ten for a gold piece, a strange assortment of things to pocket, even wrapped in wax paper as they were, but Oretia was right, they were good, as the two of them found a bench shielded by the cold of the sea, but still hidden by the warmth of the sun, as they each enjoyed one of the candies for a few silent seconds.

There was something about the way others seemed to have more time for trysts, and he wondered whether another person might take this time to proposition their companion. The pair of them with lips flush and spit slick from their choice in dessert, people might even think they had done something elicit when they returned to the main road. The air was thick and the blossoms were sweet, and Philip wondered whether he’d simply been surrounded by familiar faces for too long, that the blush upon a stranger’s cheeks would send his mind so far from his original intentions. He pat himself down, confirming the location of his missives, before plucking the honey-pop from his lips and assuring Oretia, “Thought I’d dropped something.”

He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “Tell me about your sister? Might I know her?”

“No,” Oretia answered quickly. “Wylla Cosmotius — err, Wylla Ienith now, I suppose. She might have spent some time here, but wouldn’t have made a name for herself. Found the Shrine of Azura by accident, and then spent a few years “adventuring,” or whatever you might call it, with the priestess, to whom she’s now married.”

“Cosmotius?” Philip echoed. “‘Of the stars?’”

“Mm,” Oretia hummed in agreement. “A name I imagine Wylla was glad to be rid of. Pretentious ancestors. Not that the title of Archmage is any less assuming.”

“I?” Philip hesitated. “I didn’t choose that. And it’s practical, the position is what the title says, I oversee other mages, and am one myself.”

“I didn’t say it was wrong, I said—”

“You implied it was pretentious.”

“And you became defensive,” Oretia observed, amused. “Is my good opinion so important?”

“As important as any other,” Philip said, dismissive, shrugging. “There are a lot of things said about The Archmage, meaning both myself and my predecessors. I do my best to improve those rounds of gossip.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

Oretia bumped a knee against him. She went on, “My sister went through a lot, as a mercenary and … well as an imperial in Skyrim during the civil war. When I was a child I would think of how one day marriage might separate us, but I hadn’t expected to be lost to her when she needed me before that. To be treated as a guest, and not as family, when I would see her again. I worry that she could die on that mountain, and if I were to be in Windhelm, I should never know.”

“And so you’re thinking of staying?” Philip remembered. “Do you ply a craft? There are still incentives to settle in Winterhold.”

“The city is known for surviving winters without me. I don’t know how useful I could be, or how interested people would be in buying leathers, or how abundant the game is year round for the purpose of gathering supplies. I feel I don’t know much of anything lately.”

“If it’s any consolation I find that to be more true with each passing year.”

“Even for the Archmage?”

“Especially for the Archmage,” Philip groaned. “There’s much to learn and more to discover. That’s why I need to see my post sent to Windhelm.”

“I could take it,” Oretia suggested.

“As a reason not to stay?” Philip inquired, furrowing his brow.

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t just stay all at once. I have employment and friends and possessions. But I might come back. Settle. It wouldn’t hurt to be owed a favor by the Archmage.”

He hesitated, surprised and unsure. Philip wondered whether he could get her in trouble with Herknir, and whether she was even trustworthy to begin with.

“I couldn’t make a pact like that,” he said quickly, in regret.

“I’ll take the fourteen gold?” Oretia offered. “And no favor.”

“Thirty then,” Philip suggested. “And maybe dinner, if you return?”

[mythrilhusk]

Despite Everything - Chapter 3

NOT RPF Featured Relationship (Only SFW): Puffy/Niki

(Ao3 Link) Words: 1,759 Last Chapter CW: violence, coercion

Next Chapter

Niki arrives home to her apartment after a harrowing day of working in a field where all her male coworkers talk over her constantly, barely notice her when she offers ideas, and then promptly take credit for said ideas. Sometimes she hates men as a whole concept. 

She collapses onto her favorite beanbag and flicks on a show. Puffy sings in the shower, oblivious to Niki's arrival. Smiling, Niki hums along and relaxes to the tune. 

Puffy emerges from the bathroom dripping wet and covered in a towel. She waves to Niki and retreats to the bedroom to change into her comfy jeans and the hoodie she stole from Niki. "I ordered takeout, there should be some left on the table!" 

"Thanks, babe, you're amazing." Niki laughs and gets up, going to the kitchen. 

Puffy's scroll lays innocuously on the table, open and blinking with seventy new messages. Niki avoids looking at it, not wanting to invade her girlfriend's privacy, and picks up a plate of pizza. "Puffy, you're pretty popular today!" 

"Oh? Can you read them real quick and tell me what they say?" 

Niki blushes. "Sure." She picks up the scroll awkwardly and taps through the apps to get to the messages. "Uh, it's all your superhero shit, Puffy, I don't know what any of this means." 

"Really? I told them to call the other one if they need me... oh, it's dead again, dammit." Puffy storms to the kitchen with lightning in her smile. "Thanks, Niki, I'll take it." She skims through the pile of increasingly desperate calls for help. "Ugh, I'm sorry, babe, I have to go. Sam got in trouble with the law again. Eret's good, but he's no lawyer." 

"Don't you have a legal representative?" 

"Niki, I've told you, we're not backed by anybody. We're on our own. The officials see us as vigilantes, and yeah, that's kinda what we are." 

The fact finally sinks in. "Ohhh!" Niki laughs with relief. "So your battles aren't staged?" 

"No, babe. Real battles." Puffy grabs a slice of pizza. "I gotta go bail Sam out again, sorry." 

"Let me come with." Niki decides. "I won't help you fight, but I'm a paralegal. I can help you with the officials." 

"Really?" Puffy stares at her with stars in her eyes. "You'd do that for us?" 

"For you, yes." Niki says firmly. 

"Thank you, you will not regret this." Puffy stuffs the pizza in her mouth and grabs Niki's free hand. 

Down at the city's holding facilities, Niki strides straight to the front desk. "I'm here to legally represent Awesamdude." She slams down her identification. "And this is Sam's employer, Puffy." 

The bastard in a suit behind the desk gives Niki a bored, dismissive glance. "No visitors allowed." He drones. His nametag marks him as Sapnap.

"Sam has a right to legal counsel. I am here to provide that." Niki snaps. "Let us see him." 

"What are you two, his sisters?" Sapnap laughs. "Run along. You'll see him again in five years or so." 

Niki smiles sweetly at the guard, hiding her anger. Sam hasn't been convicted of anything yet, but the officials can legally postpone the trial and keep him captive for up to five years. "You wouldn't want to piss off the Nemesis corporate heads, would you?" 

"Nemesis?? Haven't heard of'em." He shrugs. "You got anything to back that up?" 

"Puffy?" Niki gestures her girlfriend forward with the bribe. "Sir Sapnap, we'd like to see our employee and make sure he hasn't been harmed. We at Nemesis take utmost pride in our marketing team." 

"Oh?" Sapnap leans forward as Puffy transfers several thousand bullion credits to his account. "Ohh. That's an admirable missions statement, ladies. I'll see what we can do." 

"We are going to visit Sam, now." 

"Yep, he's back there." Sapnap waves them along. "I'll send the code to unlock his cell, but I'll need a bit more, uh, compensation for the paperwork to release him." 

"Of course. We will take care of that in a few days. He could use a bit of discipline for allowing himself to be caught in the first place." Niki shushes Puffy's shocked little protest. "Good day, Sapnap." 

Leading Puffy back towards the holding cells, Niki waits to speak again until she's out of ear-shot. "I'm sorry, Puffy, but we had to make it seem as though he's just an errant employee."

"It's fine, I was just startled. You're so cold in your business mode." Puffy laughs lightly. 

Niki blushes. "I have to be, or nobody will take me seriously." 

Puffy bumps her shoulder. "I take you seriously." 

"You do. Thanks, babe." Niki bumps Puffy back. 

Puffy gasps and rushes to one of the cells. "Sam!!" She cries. "What the hell did they do to you??" 

The man in the cell smiles weakly, his lips and cheeks bruised, his clothes torn and muddy with blood and grime. "Hey, Puffy." He coughs. "I got in trouble." 

"I see that, but how??" 

"I shouldn't have gone after them alone." Sam groans and struggles to sit up. "I thought I could take them, but they were too strong, Puffy, they were too strong for me." 

"Who??" Puffy snarls, vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. 

"Pax Triumvirs." 

"Damn Angels." Puffy growls. "How dare they?? I oughta whoop their asses!" 

"It's fair, Puffy, I attacked them first." Sam laughs haltingly. 

"They didn't have to beat you up so badly!!" Puffy cries. "Now we have to hire a healer!" 

"I'm right here, Puffy." Niki crosses her arms. 

"You said you didn't want to get involved. Let me respect that, babe." 

"I am already involved. I just invented an entire corporation for you." Shrugging, Niki opens the cell. "Let me do this." 

"Darn, does this mean I have to actually pay my team now?" Puffy laughs. 

"Probably, yes." Niki kneels by Sam and places her hands over his chest. "This will hurt a lot." 

She activates her magic and pours the healing fire out into his body. Sam gasps, gritting his teeth to hold back a yell. His head lolls back as he faints, but his wounds are all healed. 

Niki rises and leaves the cell. Puffy stares at Sam's prone body, tears welling in her eyes. "Is he okay?" 

"He'll be fine when he wakes up." Niki responds. "Let him sleep for now. Healing takes a lot of energy." 

"Are you good?" Puffy turns to Niki. "You aren't going to collapse too, are you?" 

"No, I'm good." Niki smiles reassuringly. "Just thirsty." 

"Can I buy you a drink?" She says it like she's trying to flirt, but she's too worried to commit to a teasing tone. 

"Sure." Niki takes Puffy's hand and leads her out of the facility, waving to Sapnap on the way out. 

In a small indie bar, Niki and Puffy sit together in a corner booth. Puffy sighs over her bloody vodka. "Sam should know better than to mess with Angels."

"Is he a Spirit too?" 

"Spirit of Dark, yeah. His boyfriend disappeared a year ago, and he's been recklessly hunting for him ever since. I don't know what I can do to keep him safe." Puffy takes a gulp of her drink. 

"Who else do you work with?" 

"Hmm. There's Jack, Spirit of Light. Oh yeah, he told you already. You just met Sam. Then there's Eret, who's Ice, and Foolish, who's Life." Puffy grins and shrugs. "And then there's me, the hot one."

"What are Angels?" 

"They're like Patrons. You know how Patrons are aligned with a type of creature or being, yeah? Angels are aligned with a concept or ideal, and they're each chosen by a god, which gives them extra power. The one downside is they're always in their fae forms." 

Niki stares at Puffy, slightly confused by some of the words coming from her girlfriend's mouth. "Gods aren't real." She finally manages to giggle. 

"Niki, where the hell do you think our magic comes from?? Thin air??" Puffy cries. "Gods are probably the realest thing about this crazy world we're living in." 

"Okay, okay. But what's a fae form?" Niki raises her hands with a placating smile. 

"All us magic folk can transform to use more of our power." Puffy explains. "It usually takes a lot of focus and willpower to stay in your fae form for very long, so nobody ever does it for staged battles, but most of us Spirits can shift easily on command." 

"Why would staying in your fae form be a downside, then?"

Puffy laughs. "Most Angels' forms are absolutely terrifying, Niki, unless they're under a glamour. None of us can take one Angel alone, much less three like Sam tried to do!" 

"Huh. How'd they become Angels?"

"Generally? They break." Puffy spins her cup in her hand, then gulps it down. "They break, they die, a god chooses them, and voila, new Angel. Then they owe the god their life, so they're bound to serve. Probably some Angels pledge voluntarily, but most are broken and pieced back together. Like kintsugi." 

"Oh. That does not sound pleasant." 

"I mean, that's life, y'know." Puffy takes another fatalistic swig.  "Us Spirits, we've at least got a choice to fight or not."  

++++

Sapnap looks up as someone enters the holding facility past visitation hours. "Hey, you're not supposed- agh-" He chokes as an unseen power slams him against the wall. 

"Where is Awesamdude?" The Lucid Spider's mandibles click and chirrup as the low, mockingly gentle voice permeates the air with menace. 

"In- in cell eight!" Sapnap gasps. "Sir, please!" 

"You never came for me." 

"I couldn't, I couldn't find you, I'm sorry!" Sapnap pleads. The Lucid Spider drops him. He rubs his throat, gulping. "My pledge never expired, Dream. I live to serve you."

"Where are the others?" 

"We lost- we lost Quackity. Bad turned against us. But George and Karl are still loyal to you, sir." 

Dream shifts down to a humanoid form, his holographic vectors of neon green containing the death-white Wurm inside. His camo-shields activate to hide the painful neon behind drab black armor. "Take me to Sam." 

"Yes, sir." Sapnap hastily goes back to the cells, trembling with confusion and terror of his lord's sudden return to life. 

Sam glares at Dream and Sapnap as they approach. "You." He growls. 

"Me." Dream laughs. "Hello, Sam. I'm going to give you one last chance, old friend. Are you going to be smart like Sapnap here, or should I kill you last after I rip your precious team to shreds?"

Sam drops his head meekly. "I'm yours to command, my lord." 

Next Chapter

[their-destinys-writer]

Caged - Chapter 14

Rated: Teen

Chapter: 14/?

Word Count: 5,455

Ao3 / FFnet / Wattpad

A/N: I know this took forever, but here it is, finally. I just want to thank everyone who continues supporting this story, despite the long hiatus.

For future previews of Caged and other projects, check out my Patreon. All previews are now exclusive to my patrons. For that and additional content, you can see it for only $1 a month! And for more, you can find a tier that’s right for you.

Caged Chapter 14 - Caged

There was a pause, only broken by the beats of Adrien’s heart. He could swear the organ moved to his head, for how loud it sounded. In that split second, Nino bit his lip, hard. The blond started bracing himself for what he was sure was to be another thunderous laugh from one of the beings he trusted the most in the world.

But instead…

“FREAKING FINALLY!” Nino blurted out, clapping his friend’s back.

“Wait, what?”

“Man, I thought you’d stay in denial forever,” he exhaled, now grabbing on to Adrien’s shoulder and continuing their trek towards the Agreste Mansion.

“So, you’re not making fun of me?”

“Dude, no way,” Nino reassured him. “Now I get to be your wingman!”

“My what?!” Adrien jolted.

“Have you thought about how you’re gonna confess?”

“Nino!” the blond screeched, stopping their walk to the place he wasn’t ready to arrive to. “Slow down, man. You’re literally the first person I tell, so, please, down the pressure.”

“Oh, right,” Nino snickered. “Sorry, dude. It’s just that I’ve had Alya pushing me to help for way too long already, and now I actually can. And you two would make a great couple. I’d love to see you two together.”

Adrien’s cheeks quickly started heating up.

“You really think so?”

“You two idiots are made for each other.”

“Gee, thanks,” Adrien deadpanned.

“You have no idea how long Marinette’s been crushing on you, dude!” Nino exclaimed. “Seriously. For the longest time, I think you were the only one to not notice her feelings.”

Adrien cringed. “I have an idea,” he muttered.

“Oh, right. Chat Noir outed you,” Nino chuckled.

The grimace on the blond’s face deepened. Definitely not his finest moment, now made worse with the realization of why he did it in the first place.

“Sure,” he said through gritted teeth. “Anyway,” Adrien grabbed Nino and pulled him behind a pillar of a building. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m gonna lose it any second. You realize I almost confessed to her back there?”

“Woah, I thought you hung back just to be alone with her, not to freaking confess.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Adrien said. “We were talking, and it just…For one second there, it just felt right. Ya know?”

“Look at mah boy, all grown up.” Nino wiped a fake tear from his eye. “But since you’re telling me now that you like her, I’m guessing you didn’t get to.”

“Nooo,” Adrien whined, covering his face. “Alya called on us before I could, and I didn’t wanna rush it. I wanna do it right.” He paused. “Which is why I told her we’d talk at lunchtime tomorrow.”

Nino let out an excited gasp.

“Way to go, my man.” He slapped his buddy’s bicep. “That’s what I’m talking abou—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Adrien said, grabbing his friend by his shoulders and staring with crazed eyes. “What was I thinking?! I wanna tell her so badly, but I wasn’t thinking ‘bout what I’m gonna tell her. I just invited her, just like that! What if she doesn’t believe me? What if I say the wrong thing? Or worse: what if she says she loves me and wants to be with me? I’ve never been in a relationship! It’s easy to flirt when deep down you know it’s going nowhere, but when you know it’s gonna happen, it’s so freaking scary, and what if we do get—”

“Okay, dude. Breathe,” Nino spoke up, raising his hands at eye-level and letting Adrien’s fall.

Adrien straightened and inhaled deeply, but the images of the worst possible scenarios kept running through his brain like an old movie reel. He wanted all of it out of his chest so badly. How had he been patient with Ladybug for so long, yet almost crumbled when it came to Marinette?

“First of all,” Nino continued, his hands making motions for his buddy to inhale and exhale, “you’re getting waaay ahead of yourself. You don’t even know how far you guys will get. And secondly, this is Marinette we’re talking about. Even if she didn’t like you that way -which she does- she would never do something to hurt you. And you gotta remember, even if you mess up, Marinette is a very forgiving person. She forgave Félix, for crying out loud.”

Adrien exhaled, body less jittery.

“You’re right,” he said, prompting Nino to finish his calming movements. “Although,” he added suddenly, feeling the nervousness come back, “there’s something else.”

Nino hummed in confusion. So, Adrien continued.

“I did something. Something that ended up in me invading more of her privacy than I should’ve, without her knowing. It’s something I have to tell her, but I’m afraid she’ll feel betrayed. And after Lila and Félix, I don’t know how much betrayal Marinette can take.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Well, no…”

“Then that already sets you apart from Félix and Lila,” Nino resolved. “Those two did things on purpose, and Marinette still forgave them. If whatever you did was an accident, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“What if it’s a big secret?”

“Dude,” Nino place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you can say all you want to psych yourself outta this, but I will keep insisting that you tell her how you feel. Even if she says no, at least you won’t be left wondering of what could’ve happened.”

Adrien stared for a moment.

“Wasn’t that your advice to me? To just go for it?”

“Oh, gosh, I forgot you used to have a crush on her!” Adrien gasped, his hands going to his head. “I know you have Alya, but are you okay with me liking a girl you used to like?”

“Psh,” Nino waved a hand. “No sweat, dude. That crush lasted like thirty minutes. And honestly, I think you guys would be cute together.”

“Cute?!”

“Yes, cute. Alya’s word, not mine.”

Adrien could feel his cheeks become warmer at the thought of other people approving of a relationship between him and Marinette. More and more, getting together seemed like a very real possibility. And what was more, it seemed everyone was rooting for them. And on both sides of his mask, to boot.

“But seriously,” Nino continued, “I think you guys would be great together.”

“But what about—”

“And if you’re worried about what your old man will say,” he interrupted, “send him to the same place you did when you ran off to school.”

The blond couldn’t help but snort at that last one. That was exactly the last excuse he was going to throw.

“You’re right,” he finally conceded, resting his back against the pillar. “I have to do what my heart tells me. And I shouldn’t let my fears control me.”

“Right on, man,” Nino said, lightly elbowing his friend. “So, what are you gonna say to her?”

“The truth. All of it.”

--------------------

“You’re smiling,” Alya said in a sing-song voice.

Marinette yelped, covering her mouth with her school bag. It was already Monday morning, and as the two girls walked inside the school, she still felt those pesky ladybugs fluttering in her stomach every time she thought of Chat Noir.

“Relax, girl.” Alya waved a hand dismissively. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you since your days of fame started. It’s nice, for a change.”

“I guess.” Marinette lowered the bag, the grin still in place. “I just can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He was so… gentle. Like he wanted to make sure he wasn’t stepping out of line. And he kept holding my hand. Can you believe I could feel his warmth through his suit? And then, before he left, he called me beautiful!”

“Aww,” Alya cooed. “You’re so cute, I’m gonna puke.”

“Hey!” Marinette stomped her foot. “I had to hear you drone on and on about Nino when you two started. Now you’re stuck with lovesick me.”

“Lovesick?”

“Stooop,” Marinette whined, her gaze shying away.

“You said it, not me,” Alya chuckled. “So, does that mean you’re in love with him?”

Marinette almost choked on her own saliva and turned, avoiding the question. In the process, she accidentally bumped into a smaller body.

“Sorry, I didn’t—Rose! Good morning!” Marinette chirped.

“Oh! Um, hi. ‘Morning,” Rose responded. Yet, her eyes barely took notice of Marinette.

She and Alya exchanged looks at the other girl’s unusual behavior.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Marinette asked.

“Huh? O-oh. Sorry, I’ve been thinking about other things—I mean, I’m distracted. Sorry, Ma-Marinette—”

“Rose,” Marinette said loudly, hoping to get her friend’s attention. And succeeding. “I know you well enough to know there’s something wrong. If you wanna talk about it, We’re here. Whatever it is.”

Alya nodded at Marinette’s words. Yet Rose hunched, her gaze still wandering around. After a deep sigh, she finally looked at the girl she had bumped into.

“You always have the best advice, and you know what it’s like to be judged, but…” She lowered her voice. “Your parents are so supportive.”

“Are you worried about your parents?” Marinette asked.

Rose bit her lip, as if regretting to speak. As Marinette gave her a reassuring smile, the small girl burst.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell my parents Juleka and I are more than friends, but I’m afraid of how they’ll react, because I don’t know their opinion on the subject, and others like us, and I don’twannalosemyrelationshipwiththemtobewithmygirlfriend.”

She took a deep breath, and let out a whimper, lips pouting nervously. Marinette and Alya glanced at each other again, clearly not expecting the heavy information Rose had just blurted out. Almost simultaneously, they both softened their looks at their classmate.

“I wouldn’t compare the opinions of thousands of strangers with the opinions of parents,” Marinette started. “I know we care more about parents’ opinions than that of people we don’t even know.”

Rose let out a defeated sigh.

“Anyway,” Marinette continued, “I don’t know if I’m the best person to be asking, but if you want my advice—”

“I do.”

“—I say some risks are worth taking,” she said.

“Umm…” Alya muttered. But Marinette continued.

“I understand you’re worried, but you’ll never know unless you take the plunge.”

“You really think everything will be alright?” Rose asked, almost desperately.

“It wouldn’t hurt to hope for the best,” Marinette grinned.

Right then, the school bell rang. Rose quickly bid them farewell and ran off to their classroom, while Marinette and Alya took their time to reach their destination.

“Looks like someone is seeing things behind rose-colored glasses,” Alya commented.

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you this positive about outcomes in several weeks already.”

“Well,” Marinette said, oblivious to Alya’s wary tone. “I think it’s about time we stop thinking about the worst-case scenario for everything. If there’s anything I’ve learned these weeks, it’s that good can come out of the worst circumstances.”

“I don’t know…”

At that moment, Marinette’s phone vibrated, distracting her from the conversation. On the screen popped up a message from one of the people she least expected.

Are we still on for the talk?

The girl smiled, right before quickly responding to Adrien. If she was being honest with herself, she felt like she could be a sincere friend now that she was in love with someone else. A friend that he probably needed more in that moment, instead of a girl with a crush and a huge paparazzi target on her back.

As they entered the classroom, Marinette had just sent her response when she looked up and found Adrien focused on his phone. Smiling and blushing. Wonder what has him so giddy.

“’Morning,” she greeted.

As if stabbed by an electric rod, Adrien jumped from his seat and glued the phone to his chest. When his eyes connected with hers, he gave her a lopsided smile, accompanied by a shy wave.

“Good morning,” he said slowly.

Marinette opened her mouth to ask if he was okay but was interrupted by Ms. Bustier’s entrance. Instead, she gave Adrien a small nod and walked to her seat behind him. As soon as she was out of his line of sight, she noticed him slump forward and put his phone away. She really hoped whatever he had to tell her would not be bad.

--------------------

It was lunchtime, and Nino knew better than to intervene in something that was not his business. Adrien made it very clear that, not only did he want privacy, but that he could do it on his own. So, he decided to take the extra time to visit one of the few electronics store left near the school.

And yet, somehow, it turned out he wouldn’t spend lunchtime as alone as he thought he would. There was a tap on Nino’s shoulder that made him lower his headphones to his neck.

“Hey Nino, have you seen Marinette?” the voice of Alya danced through his ears. “I haven’t seen her since she ran off for lunch, and I’ve been looking—”

“Oh, babe!” Nino cheered, clutching his girlfriend’s biceps. “I am so glad you found me. Have I got news for you.”

“Oooh, a scoop.” Alya vibrated, putting her hands together and seeming to have completely forgotten what she had been asking. “What is it? What happened?”

“Adrien happened. He finally admitted he has a crush on Marinette. And it gets better: he’s gonna confess.”

“Wait, what?!”

“I know!” Nino continued, oblivious to Alya’s distress. “I thought he’d stay in denial forever. But he admitted it to me yesterday and I convinced him to tell her how he feels. This is amazing, isn’t it?”

“No, Nino, this is bad!” Alya cut in, grabbing his shirt. “This is not good at all. Marinette has moved on!”

“Wait, moved on?!” Nino raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“That’s what she and I were talking about yesterday,” she explained. “Marinette kissed another boy recently. And I think she’s in love with him.”

Nino gaped for a moment.

“Don’t tell me it’s Chat Noir,” he whined.

“That secret I will take to my grave,” Alya retorted. “But that’s not the point! Marinette is really into this other guy, and she’s kinda vulnerable right now. Even if Adrien gets a yes, Marinette is confused, and I think seriously considering the other guy. He could potentially get his heart broken. We can’t let him confess!”

“Is that why you interrupted them yesterday?”

“Focus, Nino!” Alya now squashing his cheeks with her hands. “When is Adrien confessing?!”

Nino let out a smushed gasp. “Now!”

“NOW?!”

“NOW!”

He immediately took her hand and started power-walking down the sidewalk, back to the school.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he said loudly. “You’ve been begging me for months to help you wingman Adrien with Marinette. You had to know I was gonna act the first chance I got.”

“I literally found out less than twenty-four hours ago,” Alya explained.

“So you interrupted them on purpose yesterday then, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“They we’re finally alone, behind everyone else,” Nino clarified. “Literally everyone was ignoring them because they were finally talking, and then you went and yelled at them for falling behind.”

“Oh, that.” Alya rolled her eyes. “Uh, duh. He’s been so freaking obvious about his crush lately. But I had already noticed Marinette had been getting over him, and yesterday she confirmed it. It’s my duty as her best friend to protect her.”

“Yeah, like you protected her from the press?” Nino said under his breath.

But not low enough for his girlfriend to not hear it. Alya stopped, looking like she had been slapped on the face. The boy was instantly regretting opening his mouth.

“Nino Lahiffe,” she started, in a low, menacing voice, “if it weren’t because you gave your boy some really bad advice, I would go off on you so hard, you wouldn’t be able to crawl outta your cave for ten days. But if you ever say that again, you will regret it.”

Nino sighed, already sensing a very long conversation they would have at a later time. If Marinette didn’t snap before then, of course. There was only so much that girl could let pass. And her reactions to Lila, Félix and Chloé were proof that her patience was already wearing thin.

“Let’s just go,” he said instead, dragging her to the school once again. “Before it’s too late.”

--------------------

Marinette could swear the day was purposely dragging. Every five minutes that passed felt like five hours. Even the teachers seemed to be talking slower.

She just wanted this day to be over. She wanted it to be tomorrow evening. She wanted it to be time to confess to Chat Noir. She wanted to tell that boy how much she had fallen for him and wanted to be with more than friends with him. But alas, she had to wait for the natural pain-staking passing of time.

She did hope, however, that whatever Adrien wanted to tell her would be exciting enough to make the day seem shorter.

Marinette approached the park where Adrien asked her to meet up. She took several glances to her surroundings, making sure it was clear of paparazzi. Lastly, she looked towards the picnic tables on the other side of the fenced space. There, looking nervous, was Adrien. He was usually cool-headed, so: what could possibly unsettle him so?

She trudged her way there, starting to get nervous herself. What if it was bad? What if he suddenly said that he didn’t want to be friends with her anymore? Or worse. What if he now hated her for the mess she placed him in?

A resounding gulp went down Marinette’s throat. She took deep breaths, reminding herself of Tikki’s and Alya’s words about the crazy scenarios she always came up with. It didn’t do any good to dwell on events that had never happened.

She passed by Adrien and sat in front of him, startling him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckled.

“No, it’s fine,” Adrien muttered. He proceeded to clear his throat. “I’m glad to see you’re still in a good mood after the weekend.”

“Yeah.” Marinette grinned. “A lot of good things happened.”

“I bet,” Adrien uttered again. Marinette tilted her head, but in the end decided to ignore the comment.

“Sooo, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” she pushed.

“Right, uh…” Adrien tried to start, but he seemed to be at a loss, scratching the back of his head. “You know, uh…I just wanted to, um…tell you something important.”

“Everything okay?” The girl’s brows furrowed. “Did something happen? Is it about the press? Are they bothering you?”

“What? No, no,” Adrien waved his hands. “No, things are fine in that front.”

“Oh, good,” Marinette sighed in relief. “You sound so serious, I’m imagining the worst.”

“No, it’s not something bad. I mean,” he winced, “I hope not.”

“Hey,” Marinette placed a hand on his arm, that was resting on the table. “You can tell me anything and I won’t judge you. Even if what you need is help hiding a dead body.”

Adrien chuckled. “You know, I still can’t get used to you not stuttering around me.”

“Oh.” Marinette averted her gaze and scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, I-I guess I’ve learned to control it, or something.”

“Hmm,” Adrien nodded teasingly, with a hand on his chin. “Or something.”

“Anyway,” Marinette loudly interrupted, “You said there’s something you wanna talk about?”

“Ah.” Adrien quickly seem to turn as pink as one of her father’s finest macarons. “Right, the talk… I’m honestly terrified on how you’re gonna take what I’m about to say, with everything that’s happened.”

“You already said it’s not bad, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

“I don’t know, I think this will be a little hard to swallow.”

“Adrien,” Marinette said softly, returning her hand to his arm. “I get being scared about how others see you, but nothing could ever make me think less of you. I may not think of you as this perfect being, but you’re still the sweet guy who gave me his umbrella when I thought you’d put gum on my seat. You’re one of the most amazing people I know. And I’m sure that whatever it is that you want to tell me, it can never—”

But Marinette didn’t get to finish her monologue, for Adrien had leaned across the table and crashed his lips against hers.

Her mind went completely blank, as if all higher brain functions had been disabled. She felt her body so disconnected from her senses, she barely noticed the distinct sound of Alya gasping and Nino smacking his face.

And before she could do anything, Adrien’s lips had already left hers. Her eyes were still wide, as he let out a wistful sigh.

“Marinette,” he breathed, his gaze wandering around her. “I-I’m…” Adrien’s brows furrowed, as he stared at something behind her.

“Y-You—” Marinette started, but was immediately cut off.

“LOOK OUT!”

The girl’s body was enveloped by Adrien’s arms, who had jumped over the table and pulled her out of the way from what looked like a giant cage that fell from the sky. The two crashed on the dirt, with the boy covering her head protectively.

The sudden move was enough to get Marinette out of her trance. She quickly searched for the source of the giant cage, but just as she saw a stranger moving towards them (and Nino dragging Alya away in the distance), Adrien pulled her to her feet and made her run with him.

“MARINETTE!!!” a young girl’s voice bellowed, followed by the sound of crashing metal and screaming.

Marinette looked just in time to see a girl dressed in what looked like a metal-colored dress, except that the skirt was shaped like a birdcage, and her legs were actually covered by leggings. Smaller birdcages covered her shoulders and biceps, imitating puff sleeves. If Marinette was being honest with herself, the girl looked…familiar.

“Why are you stopping?!” Adrien yelled.

Just then he tried pulling her into an alley, but it was too late. The akuma made a cage appear from thin air under their feet. The cage scraped up the small opening, until it got stuck almost three stories high.

The two teenagers stumbled to the ground. When they realized what happened, they crawled to the edge of the cool floor, to where the bars were. Down on the sidewalk was the villain, smirking up at them.

“How does it feel, Marinette?” she taunted. “To be trapped in a life you don’t want? I will make sure this isn’t a phase.”

“Who are you? What are you talking about?”

“You ruined my life!” the akuma yelled. “And now, I will ruin yours. I will make sure your parents are just as unsupportive as mine.”

“Parents?” Marinette’s eyes widened, as a gasp escaped her lips. “Rose?!”

“Birdcage!” the girl yelled back. “You don’t get to call me by my captors name for me. You’re so distracted in your own happiness, you can’t see not everyone has the same circumstances as you.”

“I thought I was giving good advice. I’m sorry, Rose!”

“Save it!” Birdcage spat. “Let’s see how you fare being just as trapped as me.”

With those last words, she walked away.

“Rose! ROSE!” Marinette called, but the villain was gone.

Marinette gaped for several more seconds, hoping against all sense that Birdcage would come back. As reality sunk in, her face slid down the bars. Talk about those rose-colored glasses Alya mentioned. And just when she thought today couldn’t go by any slower! Now she had to wait for Chat Noir to turn up and free her, so she could transform into Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

The boy she kissed the previous Saturday.

Would find her with a boy who kissed her less than ten minutes ago.

The boy she was previously in love with.

Suddenly, she wasn’t very excited on seeing Chat Noir again. All those dorky smiles from that morning: gone. All she could see was betrayal on her partner’s face. Maybe even hurt.

“Any exits over there?” Adrien called from behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

Wait…

Her assessment suddenly turned backwards. Marinette didn’t ask to be kissed. Adrien just went for it, without her permission. What if Chat Noir got angry instead? What if he ended up going on a jealousy rage against Adrien? She wouldn’t put it past him, considering it wouldn’t be the first time he acted recklessly over his feelings. How did everything get so stupidly messy in one weekend?

“Marinette?” The touch of a hand on her shoulder made her jump several feet away. Staring at her was a confounded Adrien.

“I’m fine!” she squeaked. “I mean, we’re fine. I mean, no, me-fine. It’s all good. Except for the fact that we’re trapped. He heh, yeah, that’s actually bad. But it’s fine, we’ll be fi—Could you please stay over there?” she added the last bit as Adrien took steps towards her.

The boy stopped in his tracks. He seemed to have finally remembered what happened before their current predicament, for he took a step back, pointedly looking away.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Marinette averted her gaze, too. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just…wait. Quietly. Far from each other.”

With those last words, she sat on the metallic floor, with her purse ready on her lap. Just in case. After a minute or so, Adrien did the same on the other side of the cage, stealing glances at her occasionally.

They waited for anyone to turn up. As the minutes ticked by, both of them grew increasingly impatient. For Marinette, she couldn’t stop thinking about the situation she was in. Not the fact that she was stuck in a cage, unable to transform. It wasn’t the first time she found herself trapped and powerless.

No, it was more the Adrien-kissed-me-after-Chat-Noir-did-the-same-last-Saturday situation. To think her life couldn’t get any messier in these last six weeks, she had to add a ridiculous love triangle to her problems.

When did this become my life?! She screamed internally.

And Adrien shifting his eyes from her to the wall, and back to her, was not helping matters. And worse, Chat Noir was taking forever to get there.

Ten minutes passed. Nothing.

Twenty minutes. Chat Noir had to already be aware there was an akuma on the loose.

Thirty minutes. Where the heck is that damn cat?!

Tikki kept giving her worrying looks from the opening of her purse. The longer they stayed there, the more mayhem Birdcage could cause. And what was more, Marinette couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore.

“Okay!” Marinette finally let out. She stood up and made her way towards Adrien, who was playing with his phone. “Since it seems we’re gonna be here a while, might as well make one tiny, itsy bit of a question, Adrien: why the hell did you kiss me?!”

Adrien winced. Slowly, he put his phone away and stood up to face her. With the guiltiest expression Marinette had ever seen on him, he responded: “I got caught up in the moment.”

“The moment?” Marinette sputtered. “I didn’t think I’d—I mean, I didn’t create a… Did I create a moment? Oh no, please tell me I didn’t—”

“No,” Adrien cut in, placing his hands on her shoulders. “No, it wasn’t… You were just saying a lot of nice things about me, and I got caught up in it.”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed in relief. But almost immediately, she took that breath back. “Wait. You…like me?”

Adrien’s hands clenched on her, and she could have sworn his jaw tensed.

“Do you like Chat Noir?” he blurted out instead.

“I asked you first,” she shot back.

“Depends on your answer to my question.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Just answer the question, Adrien. Do you like me?”

“I can’t say.”

“Then I can’t answer your question.”

“Fine! Yes, I like you!”

Wind got caught in Marinette’s throat, almost making her choke. Yes, she pushed it, but a part of her still hoped he would answer differently. But of course, that wasn’t the case. There was no way this was happening, especially now. Now, of all times. It was just her luck.

She let out a groan of misery, along with several mumbled ‘this can’t be happening’. All the while her hands covered her face.

“You haven’t answered my question about Chat Noir,” she heard Adrien state.

Separating her fingers to peek at him, Marinette hesitated to respond. Between him and Chat, he wasn’t the person she wanted to tell first, much less after what just happened. Yet, the least she could do was be honest with him.

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Meanwhile, the hands that were on her shoulders slowly pulled away. “This is very complicated. But I had kinda decided to give up on you.”

“Why?” Adrien asked. Although, he didn’t sound upset, like she thought he would. Instead, he sounded genuinely curious.

She opened her eyes again, but most of her face was still covered.

“I-I have my reasons—”

“Because of Chat Noir?” Adrien intervened.

“Well!” Marinette flailed her arms. “Well yeah, because of Chat Noir. Yes, I have feelings for a boy who dresses like a cat and jumps around Paris. Happy?”

She expected him to look sad, or angry even. She didn’t expect him to chuckle.

“So you traded one celebrity for another celebrity?” he snickered.

“Chat Noir isn’t just some celebrity, or superhero, for that matter,” Marinette defended. “Chat Noir is… No, my Chat, the Chat I know is one of my best friends, who’s saved my life more times than I can count. He’s kind, courageous, always looks for ways to make me laugh and is willing to do everything in his power to protect me, even if it means putting his own wishes aside. Chat is…” she let out a wistful sigh. “Chat is amazing. His good looks and kissing skills are just a bonus.”

“K-kissing sk-skills?” Adrien stuttered.

Marinette’s eyes widened, registering the amount of information she had let out. Her cheeks turned hot. Her arms where flailing again.

“I-I mean, not that I-we, buh, uh…ugh!” she groaned miserably, covering her face again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Pfft.” Marinette raised her head, just in time to see Adrien bark in laughter. She blinked, bewildered, as the boy wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve told you before,” he said, “you can trust me with your life, Marinette.”

Oh no.

“Nope!” Marinette suddenly pushed herself away from the boy’s embrace. “Stop it. That’s…no. You’re confusing me. I already made up my mind. And I don’t want Chat to see us like this when he rescues us.”

“What makes you so sure he’s the one who’s gonna save us?”

“Because he’s the one with the power to disintegrate metal.”

There was a beat. They stared at each other for a moment, Marinette with a triumphant smirk and Adrien with eyes almost popping out of his skull.

“Aw, crap.” Marinette stared, never having heard Adrien use a cuss word in her life. And she continues to stare as he started running around the cage, forcing the bars as if hoping they would suddenly bend open an exit.

“Adrien, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.

“There has to be a way out,” he muttered, yet Marinette could still hear him. “I refuse for it to happen this way. Not like this.”

“For what to happen like this?” Marinette frowned.

“Agh, dammit!”

Pushing himself from the bars, Adrien strutted in Marinette’s direction with new determination in his eyes. The next second, his hands were in hers.

“Marinette,” he started, with a slight tremble in his voice. “I just want you to know that none of this went according to plan, and this is not the way I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks now, but I was told I couldn’t. But with everything that’s happened, I can’t keep it a secret anymore. I was gonna tell you today anyway, but not like this. Just know that I’m sorry for confusing you so much, and I’m sorry you have to find out this way.”

With those last words, he took a step back, letting go of her hands. Marinette continued staring with a puzzled expression, trying to decipher what he meant.

But her questions would soon be answered for Adrien lifted a fist and yelled three words:

“Plagg, transform me!”

[komorebirei]

Broken Fugue: Solfège - 24. Flirt

(AO3)

“Tu sais je vais t’aimer.”

Chat Noir perked up as the honey-sweet voice met his ears. He turned in time to see Coccinelle taking the steps up to the stage, looking stunning in a red sleeveless dress with a lace bodice. “Ah, really, Ladybird? If I may humbly say so, I don’t blame you—besides my good looks, I also have a great sense of humor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Chaton,” she chided, not unkindly. “Do you know the song, or not?”

“Of course. I’m prepared for you, Milady.”

She lifted the mic from the clip, and he played the opening chords.

“Tu sais je vais t’aimer… même sans ta presence, je vais t’aimer…”

Chat Noir closed his eyes as he played, savoring the way Coccinelle’s voice melted into the piano’s tones. Her voice was soft, soothing, easy to listen to—perhaps untrained, but beautiful nonetheless, like a rare wildflower.

The mood of the club had shifted as she sang, commanding the audience’s attention. Who was this girl who could cast such a spell with her voice? Or was it only him under the spell?

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find her looking at him, her eyes glittering like sapphires in the mood lighting.

“Tu sais je vais pleurer quand tu t’éloignera… je vais pleurer, mais tu me reviendras, et j’oublierais la douleur de m’ennui…”

Chat Noir held her gaze confidently and waggled his eyebrows playfully. A few whoops rang out from the audience. He smirked, enjoying the act.

When she finished the song, she stepped off the stage without so much as a glance his way. Juleka and Luka joined him onstage, with Luka on the guitar this time—his instrument of choice. As they launched into a lighthearted improvisation, Luka setting the chords, Chat Noir discreetly scanned the audience for the girl in the red dress.

He didn’t see her. She couldn’t have left already, could she?

He would have missed her, if not for the way the sequins of her mask caught the light when she glanced toward the stage, about to push open the door.

Chat Noir played a cadence to gracefully retire the piano, and slipped off the stage, weaving between tables, dodging patrons, out the door.

Her heels were clicking on the concrete as she strode away, one hand on her mask.

“Ladybird!” Chat called out.

Her hand fell away from her face and she turned with the mask still on. “Chat Noir,” she acknowledged, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk.

He caught up to her. “Leaving without a goodbye?”

“Well, you were busy.”

“A cat always has time to chase a ladybug.”

“You’re too much!” She playfully pushed his shoulder. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

He caught her hand. “With you? Why would I, when it’s so much fun?”

Her smile faded slightly, and her eyes gained a faraway look, as if she were thinking about something else.

“It’s funny,” Chat Noir started, still holding her hand. “The lyrics of your song? They describe the way I feel about you. Almost, anyway.”

“Almost?”

“You seem like someone I could fall in love with. I cried every night you weren’t here to serenade us all with your sweet voice.”

Coccinelle snorted dismissively, rolling her eyes, and dislodged her hand from his. “You don’t even know me. How could you fall in love with me?”

“Ah, but Milady, I didn’t say I am in love with you. Yet, anyway. You intrigue me, that’s all.” He touched the edge of her mask, as if asking permission to lift it. “Do you want me to fall in love with you?”

She looked aside and tugged his wrist, taking his hand away. “I’m happy with the masks.”

“You’re perplexing. Are you afraid of something?”

They were standing very close. She looked like she was grappling with a thought, and she opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. The veil of playfulness had lifted—he was seeing another side of her.

When she didn’t say anything, a daring thought came to Chat Noir’s mind. He leaned forward—she didn’t move away. He hovered his lips above hers—she still didn’t move away.

He kissed her, quick and light. “Caught you, Ladybird.”

Before he could pull away, she wove her fingers in his hair and drew him closer, reinitiating the kiss and returning it with passion. He closed his eyes, the feeling of her lips overtaking his senses.

As they parted, he brushed aside her thick bangs and touched a front tip of her bobbed hairstyle. “A wig? It’s beyond me why you hide. You’re magnificent.”

“Coccinelle isn’t me,” she answered breathily. “This is all just a game.”

“You’re playing me, then?” He pretended to be hurt. “Did that kiss mean nothing?”

“It meant something.” She seemed uncharacteristically shy. Then again, he didn’t know her true character.

“So you’d do it again? If the opportunity presented itself.” He grinned cheekily.

She kissed him again, something defiant smouldering beneath her gentle touches. As she tangled her fingers in his hair, he lay a hand between her shoulder blades, feeling her warm skin under the web of lace that formed the back of her dress.

“One rule: the masks stay on.” Her words tickled his lips.

“As you wish, Milady.”

She mustn’t be serious. This was all a game to her. And that was fine with him.

—

Written for @adrienaugust - part of a collection of drabbles about my music school / jazz club AU. Check out more on AO3 or listen on YouTube.

Tu sais je vais t’aimer: https://youtu.be/YzjZXKzGxTU

[jishwatylrandtop]

10 pm--A Josh Dun Imagine

Another imagine that just randomly popped into my head. Enjoy… or don’t I don’t care. Feedback is welcome and appreciated

Pairing Josh Dun x Reader

TW: minor non-consensual sexual content, panic attack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(YOUR POV)

You hated skateboarding at night. You always did you best to make sure you were out of your apartment on time, so that you didn’t have to skateboard to your night shift at the diner, but today it seemed that luck was not on your side. 

You had laid down for a nap. Pretty understandable, seeing as how you went straight from your shift, which ends at 7 am, to you classes at the nearby community college. Those ran from 9:30 to 3:00, leaving you on five hours of sleep a day. It was an exhausting cycle. Occasional naps were warranted, but your alarm didn’t go off as your phone had died which had left you waking at the sound of your neighbors slamming door with 30 minutes to get out of your apartment and to your job a good twenty minute walk away, which didn’t include the 15 minutes it took you to get dressed in that god awful waitress uniform and make your face presentable; you knew walking today was not an option. 

Today’s events left you frantically skateboarding across town in your uniform and converse trying to make it to the diner on time. Luckily, you didn’t expect many obstacles as it was 9:50 at night on a Tuesday. You weren’t expecting many people to be out and about. 

You had just turned the corner, your place of employment coming into view when the door to the record shop on your right flies open in front of you. Swerving to avoid getting a face full of door, you fall, skidding and rolling a good five feet away from your board. When the immediate shock fades, and the dull sting of burns and scratches and bruises comes to light, you immediately spring to your feet, searching for your board and hoping to God that you won’t be late. Your boss would not like that, oh no. You’d be lucky if he didn’t fire you on the spot. 

You face the store again, finally spotting your board. Hissing in pain as you reach down to grab it, a voices springs through your frantic movements. “Are you alright, miss?”  You reply without looking up, too busy inspecting your body and board for any damages. “Yes, I’m alright. Just a little banged up. Nothing I’m not used to.” You shrug. “I feel horrible. I should’ve made sure it was clear before opening the door.” “It’s alright” you say again. “You didn’t expect anyone to be flying around the corner on a skateboard at almost 10:00. I don’t blame you.” You finally look up at the stranger. He’s handsome, tall, with a strong build and neon yellow hair. Embarrassment rears its ugly head as you realize you totally ate shit in front of a really hot boy.  “I’m really sorry again” he states, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Is there anyway I could make up for it? Oh..uh…I’m Josh, by the way.” You look down at your phone, 9:55. “Uh I actually have to go, like right now, but uh thanks for the offer.” With a dismissing nod, you turn away and continue down the street on your board.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated the diner. It was plain and simple. The night shift was filled with creepy customers and longer hours in which there was nothing to do. The only upside was the bonus pay. You got paid more than coworkers and friends with day shifts. 

You were currently sitting behind the counter, and despite it being only two and a half hours into your shift, you were already exhausted. Two young men in their early twenties, who you suspected had just finished vandalizing buildings in the area, had come in and ordered half the menu while simultaneously checking you out whenever they could. An old man sat at the counter ordering nothing but coffee in which you had to pretend you didn’t see him spike whenever you turned away. Finally in the corner, sat a women, whose mascara tracks and sniffles made you to continuously place new tissues on the table. She didn’t order anything, but since the diner was the only place in town that was open 24 hours you didn’t have the heart to turn her away. 

When you weren’t checking on the pitiful amount of customers, you were doing homework. You had no idea where you wanted your life to take you, but you thought core classes in community college would be a good start. You were currently sitting at the counter with your head buried in a history book when the bell above the door jingled, alerting you to a new customer. “Just take a seat where ever. I’ll be with you in a moment” you stated with a tone of indifference. When you finished reading your page, you set the book down, grabbed your pad, and made your way to the new customer’s table. “Welcome to the 24/7 Diner how may I–Josh?” Handsome record store stranger was sitting right in front of you. Great–a chance for you to embarrass yourself further.  “Hello again miss…” he squints at your name tag “Y/n.” He smiled at you, revealing a row of pearly white teeth and a set of adorably squinty eyes that immediately set butterflies throughout your stomach. “I was kinda upset when I was unable to get the name of the pretty skateboarder girl, but it seems like fate is on my side today.” He smirks while your face flushes a light pink at the fact that he has just called you pretty. “It would seem so.” You brushed hair out of your face, continuing “anyway…what can I get you?” “Coffee. Please” He smiles again, “Black.” “Is that it?” You begin to turn around. When his hand grabs your wrist. “And a gigantic plate of hash browns.”  You giggle. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back with that coffee.” Turning away, you make your way back to behind the counter to grab a pot of coffee. You stopped buy the window to the kitchen and gave the cook Josh’s order. You made your way back to his table with a mug and a pot of coffee. “Fresh black coffee for the handsome stranger with bright yellow hair.” He smiles as you pour his coffee and sighs as he grips the warm cup between his hands. You turn to return to your place behind the counter, but his voices interrupts your thoughts. “Y/n, this place is dead. Have a seat and join me.”  “I really shouldn’t Josh. But I appreciate the offer.” “C’mon y/n. There’s like four other people here. You can just get up every fifteen minutes to check on them.” You glance around again.  Sighing, you reply “Alright, just let me grab a mug because it seems as if I’ll be needing coffee if I’m going to have to be around your stubbornness all night tonight.” He laughs as you grab another mug. Pouring coffee for yourself, you take a seat. “So, Josh. What brings you here on this fine Tuesday evening?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Josh converse for hours with only small pauses for your rounds. It was 5:00 am when things got out of hand. Everyone had left besides you, Josh, and the two punk vandals. You paused your conversation with Josh, telling him that you had to check up on them to which he replied he was going to make a run to the bathroom while you did. You made your way to their table, “is there anything else I can get you tonight boys?”  “That depends” the tall one replied. He was tall, thin, and smelled of smoke. He looked you up and down. “Are you on the menu?” The shorter, pudgier one chuckled.  “Very clever, but the answer is no. Anything else?” This wasn’t the first time you had to deal with patrons weak attempts at flirting. Suddenly you feel a hand skirt up your thigh, edging upwards. Smacking hands away and stepping back, you collect yourself. “If you won’t be getting anything else, I’ll fetch your check.” A hand forcefully pulling your arm keeps you from walking away.  “Stop playing hard to get. I will get what I want from you.” His grip on your wrist tightens almost painfully.  Panic sets in “Please, let me go. You’re hurting me.” You attempt to wriggle your arm free, but the man grabs your other wrist in the same hand, pins you against the window, presses his other arm against your throat and presses himself against you. Your heart is racing as your trapped against the wall wondering what was going to happen. Suddenly his weight is gone, and the buzzing in your ears in replaced with a loud crash as the man’s body is thrown to the floor by Josh.  “Get outta here right now.” The anger in his voice is so thinly veiled the men grab their stuff and are scrambling out the door. He turns to you to see you sitting against the wall with your hands painfully tugging your hair and your breathing short and sporadic. He makes his way to you, and crouches to your level. “Y/n, It’s Josh. I’m not here to hurt you. I just need you to listen to me. Can you breathe with me?” You look up at him, and attempt to get your breathing under control. As the minutes pass, your breathing slowly begins to return to normal. “That’s great, y/n. You’re doing so good.” He looks back at your quacking body. “I’m going to pick you up and take you back to the booth. Is that okay?” 

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck so that he can pick you up. After placing you down in the booth, he runs to the kitchen to grab you some water. When he returns, your breathing is back to normal, and your brain is less fuzzy. He sets the water in front of you, sits across from you, and offers a small smile. After gulping half the glass, you smile back and reach across the table for his hand. “Thank you.” It’s only a whisper, but he hears it. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, replying simply with “Don’t mention it.”

Ten minutes of silence pass by before Josh speaks up. “Are you doing okay?...That was a stupid question I’m sorry.” You huff a laugh “It’s okay. I’m okay, a little shaken, but okay.” You release a shaky breath. “It could’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up. Thank you.”  “There’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad I followed the pretty skateboarding waitress, or else tonight might have gone very differently.” He gives you a small smile. The bell above the door jingles again, and the sound of your coworker coming in shocks you out of your conversation.  “Morning Y/N, I had a restless night so I came in an hour early, so you’re free to go.” “Thanks Alli.” You stand and stretch, turning toward Josh, “thank god maybe I can get an extra hour of sleep today. It was nice to meet you, Josh. Thanks for..the company.”  “Please, it was my pleasure.” He gives you another smile, tongue between his teeth. “I was, uh, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to dinner this Saturday?” He scratches his neck, and looks away.  “You’re asking me on a date?” you chuckle, and he shrugs in response. “Yes, Josh. I’ll go on a date with you.” The smile you get in return fills your stomach with butterflies. After an exchange of numbers and a short goodbye, you part ways. 

Your thoughts are filled with the yellow haired sunshine boy who stole your heart the entire walk home. When you walk into your apartment your phone buzzes with a message. 

Sunshine Boy: get some sleep, y/n. I had a great time tonight. I can’t wait to see you again.  

You fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

[josephstoontown]

Point of Departure, Ch. I

Chapter I of "Point of Departure," a Joseph's ToonTown story.

Hoo-boy…  This is one of those stories that was like, "I'm not sure I really want to write this… but, at the same time, it feels like the logical conclusion, so…" You can kind of consider this the end of at least this segment of Joseph's ToonTown, I suppose.  Though, I'll probably write stories that take place after this one ends, anyway.

Here's a random fact: This story was originally one chapter/part.  I split it into three because it was too big, though.

Word count: 3,882 – Character count: 22,965 Originally written: January 5th, 2017 Revised on: August 4th, 2017

There’s a reason that they say "old acquaintances should be forgot and never brought to mind…"

Shinko created by and © shinkothetoongirl Winnie Woodpecker, Woody Woodpecker, The Woody Woodpecker Show, and related characters and properties created by and © Walter Lantz Productions Tiana's Place, The Princess and the Frog, and related properties created by and © The Walt Disney Company Lola Bunny, The Looney Tunes Show, and related characters and properties created by and © Warner Bros. Animation Roger Rabbit, Jessica Rabbit, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, and related characters and properties created by Gary K. Wolf and © The Walt Disney Company Droopy Dog, Red, and related characters and properties created by Tex Avery and © Metro-Goldwym-Mayer Crag, Rip, Chunk, Slab, The Ripping Friends, and related characters and properties created by John Kricfalusi and © Spümtwø, Inc. "That's The Spirit" Guy, Rocket Power, and related characters and properties created by Klasky Csupo and © Viacom Media Networks (Mama mia, that's a lotta credits.)

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    “Ya know… if you told me, last year, that I’d find myself in one of the most popular restaurants in the Disney District of ToonTown… sat down beside my two best friends and seated across from the most beautiful rabbit, in all of ToonTown… well, I’d have to call you a dreamer.  But, here we are.  All of us sat here… in Tia’s Palace… on New Year’s Eve.”

    Four people were seated around a circular table, off to the side in the aforementioned restaurant.  Joseph, the fox who’d spoken, brightly smiled to his companions – a pair of woodpeckers and a rabbit.  Everyone was dressed to-the-nines that night, the gentlemen in nice-looking tuxedos and the ladies in lovely dresses.

    “I’m pretty sure this place is called, ‘Tiana’s Place,’ Joseph…”     The female woodpecker who had spoken up offered a smirk to her friend.  Even so, she looked particularly nice, that night, in her sparkling, midnight-blue dress, heels, opera gloves, and jewelry.     “Oh.  Right…”  Joseph rubbed the back of his head.  “I keep forgetting, Winnie…”     “And, you’ve lived in ToonTown how long, now?” the male woodpecker, seated across the table from Winnie, asked.  He was grinning at the embarrassed fox.     “C’mon, Woody…” he murmured.  “It’s not like I get out, much.”     “Which is exactly why we made these reservations, for you!” Winnie said with a smile.     “And, don’t think I don’t appreciate it!”  Joseph returned the smile.  “I mean, I’d be just as happy, if we’d spent New Year’s at Joe’s, again, if it was with you all.  But, well…”     He smiled to the trio.     “I think spending it here, dressed all fancy-like, is going to be even more memorable – if not more fun!  This place is pretty amazing… but, I kind of feel at-home, here, too.”     “Hear hear!” Winnie said, raising a glass filled with some yellowish drink.     “You can’t hear him?” Woody asked his girlfriend, wearing a smirk.     She just rolled her eyes and shook her head.  A moment later, he, Joseph, and the third person at the table joined her cheer, clinking glasses before three of them took a sip of their respective beverages.  The fourth person, on the other hand, seemed to be a little preoccupied with the fox sitting across the way, from them…

    “You… really think I’m the most beautiful rabbit, in ToonTown?” they asked.     “I do, Lola,” he said as he admired how nice she looked in her black cocktail dress.  The way she’d curled her ears seemed especially cute to him, too.     “I dunno, pal…”     Everyone at the table looked toward Woody as he spoke, again.     “I mean, don’cha think that Jessica gal’s the most beautiful ‘Rabbit,’ in ToonTown?”     “What?”  The other male gave a blink.  “She’s a bat…”     “What…?”  The woodpecker’s face showed complete and total confusion.  “No, she’s not.  She’s a Rabbit!  Who th’ heck are you thinkin’ about, Joe?”     He gave another blink, his ears perking.  “Jessica is, too, a bat!”     “No, she’s a lady!  And, a very lovely one if do say so myself!”

    Everyone at the table looked up as they heard a fifth, much more ridiculous-sounding voice had come into play.  Standing nearby was the form of a goofy-looking white rabbit with big, blue eyes, a big pink nose, huge feet, and a small tuft of red hair between his big, floppy ears.  He, too, was dressed in a tuxedo… though, his didn't seem nearly as well-tailored.

    “Holy smokes…!” Woody said.  “It’s…”     “Roger Rabbit!” the fox finished, standing up from his seat.     “In th’ fur!” he laughed.  “Now, would someone p-p-p-p-please tell me what all this silliness about my sugar-muffin being a bat, is all about?”     “Roger, darling…” called another voice.  All eyes were cast to the figure at the white rabbit’s side, then.     Standing beside him was drop-dead gorgeous ‘toon redhead standing a little taller than even Joseph – who was standing about twice as tall as anyone else, at the table.  She wore a shiny, red dress similar to Winnie’s but slit down the sides.  She also had matching high heels, purple opera gloves, and tiny pearl studs on her ears.  Rather than be any sort of animal, however… she was modeled after a human woman.  A very attractive one, at that.

    “Yes, my sweet?” Roger said, tilting his head upward.     “I think they may be thinking of someone else, entirely,” she offered in a smooth, almost sensual sort of tone, her purple-shadowed eyes looking the fox’s way.  “I doubt he even had me in-mind when he said that.”     “He’d be crazy not to!”     Once again, all eyes fell upon Woody.  He’d zipped toward the taller figure took her hand in his own.     “Enchante, mademoiselle…” he said, giving her hand a gentle kiss.     Both Roger and Winnie looked more than a little irritated by the gesture… but, Jessica, oddly enough, seemed amused.     “Well…” she said as she knelt down by the woodpecker, “aren’t you the charmer?”     She then ran her gloved hand through his quiff of hair, a smirk showing on her face.  That motion sent a shiver down Woody’s spine which made him nervously laugh and shyly squirm.     “I’ll bet this is the sort of charm that got Winnie’s attention, in the first place,” she added, reaching under his chin and looking into his eyes.  “Isn’t it?”     The woodpecker seemed completely under her spell, eyes half-open and a drunken sort of smile on his face.     “Who’s Winnie…?” he quietly asked.  Jessica seemed all the more amused by that reaction, as she stood back up.     During the exchange, Winnie had found herself growing more-and-more angry… but, not with Jessica… but, rather, with her boyfriend.  Picking up on that, the human-looking ‘toon took a step back, watching the other woodpecker dig around in her small purse.

    “Oh, Woody…”     The man turned toward his girlfriend…  Immediately after, a resounding splat reverberated in the room, drawing the attention of all nearby patrons and even bring the live band to a halt.  Winnie had smashed her boyfriend with a giant, wooden mallet!

    “Anyone get the number of that tram…?” Woody groggily asked as he lay, flat as a quarter, on the ground.     “Wow, Woody…”  The actual rabbit sat with her arm over her chair’s back, looking down at the squished bird with a mix of pity and disbelief.  “Wow…”     “He’s always been like that…” Winnie said with a sigh.     “He’s always been a pancake?”  The bunny-lady looked toward the other woodpecker with a genuinely confused expression on her face.  “I’ve never seen him like this, before!”     “No, I mean…”     “Every time I’ve seen him, he was a little taller and a little less flat.”     Woody audibly popped back up, stumbling around as his eyes wandered and rolled.     “Yeah, kind of like that!  But, less messy.  And, less confused-looking.”     “I think she means that he’s always been a flirt, Lola,” Joseph offered as a guess.     “Oooooh…”  The rabbit smiled… then gave a blink.  “He’s never flirted with me!”     Winnie and the fox both gave a blink as Lola turned to the dazed woodpecker.     “Woody, flirt with me!”     “Hookay, pretty lady…!” was his response.  And, that was all it took to make Lola beam.     “Did you hear that?” she said, leaning over the table.  “He thinks I’m pretty!”     “I think you’re pretty, too!” the fox said in befuddlement.     “Oh, you’re just trying to copy Woody,” she said with a dismissive look.     Joseph scratched his head while Winnie gave a giggle, at the situation.  Shortly after, the attention turned back to Roger and Jessica.

    “Anyway, yeah, I knew a Jessica, back where I came from,” the fox explained.  “She was actually a bat-girl – a pretty cute one, at that.”     The Jessica that was standing there gave a hum while Roger quietly listened.     “So, I wasn’t calling your Jessica a bat.  Or, bat-faced.  Or, anything like that.  I was just saying, the ‘Jessica’ I knew actually was a bat.  Not a Rabbit.  But, looking at her…”     He gave a friendly smile to the femme fatale.     “I can see why Woody implied that she was the prettiest Rabbit in all of ToonTown.”     “Why, thank you,” Jessica replied, offering a friendly smile of her own.     “Not only that but she’s a magnificent cook and really really smart!” Roger added, beaming with joy.  “Why, my cupcake is the smartest, most clever Rabbit in all of ToonTown!”     “Wait a second…  I just got it!”     Everyone looked toward Lola.  She had a look of realization on her face.     “She’s not an actual rabbit… but, her last name is ‘Rabbit…’ so, that makes her ‘the most beautiful Rabbit in all of ToonTown!’”     “And, that’s th’ joke!” Woody exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh.     “Cleeeverrr…” Lola said with a grin.  “I can see why you like this guy, Jojo!”     Joseph gave another chuckle, rubbing the back of his head and grinning…

    “Well, thanks for the explanation!” the white rabbit said after a brief period of silence.  “Let’s go enjoy the festivities, Jessica, dear!”     “Yes.  Let’s make this a New Year’s Eve to remember, honey-bunny,” she replied with a smile.  “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Fox, Ms. Bunny, and it was good to see you, again, Winnie… and, especially you, Woody.”     As Jessica cooed to him, he turned bashful, again, wringing his arms and squirming     “You’re a lucky girl,” she told Winnie as she passed by.  “He’s a funny one.”     “Oh yeah…” she said with a smirk.  “He’s hilaaarious.”     Jessica shared her smirk before the two exchanged smiles.  A moment later, she and Roger were off toward the back of the club, where live entertainment was playing.

    “Well, that was fun!” Woody said as he and the fox sat back down.     “It’s always fun visiting with old friends,” Winnie happily agreed.  “Even if they do have a… certain effect… on your boyfriend.”     “Yeah– wait, what?”     She gave a giggle as Woody stared at her.     “Ah, you know you’re th’ only girl for me, babe!”     “True, true…  But, it never hurts to remind you of that, every now-and-then!”     “Says you!” he replied with a grin, rubbing his head.

    Woody and Winnie fell into a conversation shortly after the Rabbits’ departure, leaving Joseph and Lola to look around.  Neither had really taken in the sights of the palatial establishment until just then, the former, in-particular, taking some time to admire the look and feel of the building…     From the tables and chairs to the walls, the chandeliers and candelabras, and even the flatware… everything within that old, converted storehouse seemed to glimmer like gold!  The fox couldn’t help but be amused, thinking about what Spydor might do if he ever got in there…  There were a number of circular tables set up along the main dining area as well as on the balconies a floor above where they were and, at those tables, sat many other people of many different walks of life.  Some were easily recognizable as ‘toon celebrities such as Roger and Jessica at their table near the stage, as well as Droopy and Red who were, coincidentally sat near the quartet.  Some others were familiar, such as Foxy and Roxy – a pair of ‘toon foxes who slightly resembled a certain Disney mouse couple – but, didn’t seem to draw as much attention.  Others, still, were fairly unknown, even to the mixed group… but, curiously enough, they seemed to draw attention to themselves, all-the-same.

    “We’ll have four of your finest steaks, please!” said a rather large, muscular fellow in a form-fitting tuxedo to a nearby waitress.  The fellow was bronze in complexion and wore his white hair short, aside from a spike surrounded by “retro-future” hoops and sticking up near his forehead like a radio tower.  At that same table sat three others of varying skin tones and hair colors… but, of similar muscularity.     “And, don’t skimp on the char!!” said an orange-blond, gray-toned gentleman in a somewhat intense but still friendly tone.  He was sitting to the first man’s left.

    “Can I get fries, with mine, please?” added a young-faced, pale-skinned blond with innocent eyes.     “Real men eat their potatoes baked, not fried, Chunk!”     “Real men can have fries, too!” Chunk immediately countered.  “And, I want fries!”     “Y’all have dem sweet, seasoned curly fries they serve at some places?” said a darker-skinned, slightly heavier man wearing a mask.  “I sure could go for some’a dem!”     “Aw, not you, too, Slab!” the redhead said, looking disappointed.     “As a matter of fact…” the white-haired gentleman spoke again, “I could go for some french fries, myself!”     The orange-haired man’s eyes angrily narrowed as he looked around at his table…  After several tense moments, however, he sank down and crossed his arms, pouting…     “Fine, I’ll take some stinkin’ fries, too…”     The white-haired man was about to say something… but, a voice cut him off, saying…     “That’s the spirit!”

    The quartet of muscle-men and the waitress all looked to the side of their table.  Standing near them was a blue-haired man in a blue tuxedo with a red cummerbund.  He was smiling an odd smile and looking at them with distrustful eyes, despite his cheerful tone, as he waved his top hat their way.  A moment later, he put his hat back on and wandered off.     At that point, the muscle-men just looked at each other… before bursting into laughter.  The waitress jotted down their order, a second later, and was on her way.  It was about that time the fox turned his attention back to his own table.

    Winnie and Woody were still chatting away, seemingly too lost in their conversation to really pay attention to him or Lola.  He turned toward the bunny, then, tilting his head as he noticed her curiously looking around the room, as he had been.  When her black eyes caught his look, however, she jolted… then, she smiled and gave a wave.     “Enjoying yourself, Lola?” he asked with a smile of his own.     “Yuh-huh!” was her perky reply.  “It’s so sparkly, in here!  Plus, there’s so many things going on, all-at-once!  Why don’t we come here, every night?”     “Well, reservations aside, this place is usually packed-to-the-gills, from what I gather.”     “This place has gills?!”  Her eyes widened and she gasped.  “Are we underwater, right now?!  Where’s the nearest window?!  I’ve gotta see!”     The fox started to say something… but, the bunny in the black dress had already run off.  When she came back, a half-minute later, she seemed irritated…     “You lied to me, Mr. Fox!  We’re not underwater!”     “I… I never said that we were!” he said, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.  The woodpeckers were staring at them, then…     “But, you said this place was ‘packed-to-the-gills!’”     “I didn’t mean the restaurant had gills, though!  I just meant–”

    “What if it did have gills, though?” she interrupted, taking her seat.  “How awesome would it be if this place could go underwater?”     Lola’s eyes sparkled, her imagination clearly conjuring up something fantastic…     “That… would be kind of neat, I guess?” was all he could say.     “Does this place have a suggestion box?  Or– oh!  Hang on, a second!  Hey, Tiana!!”     “‘Tiana?’”  He gave a blink.  “W-wait, Lola…!”     But, before the fox could object, Lola was off like a shot, again.

    He watched as she ran over to a dark-skinned, human-form ‘toon woman, wearing a very lovely green-and-white dress and tending to some other customers.  He recognized her as Tiana, “Princess of Maldonia” and the proprietor of the very restaurant they were in.     Once Tiana had finished with the current customers, she turned to Lola, listening… rather intently… as the rabbit made a lot of grand gestures, most-likely running her ideas by the confused lady.  After the bunny had finished, the fox noticed the look on Tiana’s face…     Is… she actually considering Lola’s ideas…?

    “She said, she loved the idea of an underwater cruise restaurant and would run it by her husband and backers,” Lola said as she came back.  “But, she wasn’t interested in making this restaurant go underwater…”     “Oh, well, that’s… that’s a shame,” the fox said, unconvincingly.     “I know, right?  How neat would it be if the whole thing just sunk down into the water and scooted around the bay?  Ya know… just for a while!”     “Tell ya what, Lola…  Next time they have a submarine ride, in the bay, we’ll go.”     The rabbit clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling and a bright smile on her face.     “Reeeally?” she asked.  When the fox gave a nod, she gave a happy squeal, in return, before saying, “You’re the best, Jojo!”     “Well… heh…”

    With that discussion done and over with, the two started talking about a few other things before eventually merging their conversation into the woodpeckers’, the four of them having fun just chatting.  As the minutes added up, however, something dawned on one of them.

    “Where the heck is our waiter?”

    The four looked to one-another.  Woody looked annoyed while the other three looked confused.  They were having such a good time just being there, none of them had even realized…     “Do we even have a waiter?”     “Well,” Joseph started, “that little green, one-eyed guy that seated us said the waiter would be along, shortly… but, that was, what?  Twenty minutes ago?”     “At least!”  Woody gave a frown.  “What’s a guy gotta do to get served, around here?!”     “Maybe they’re short-staffed?” Winnie suggested.  “It is New Year’s Eve…  A lot of people are probably over at the House of Mouse right now.”     “Which is exactly how we got in here,” the fox added with a chuckle.     “That’s not the point!  We’re payin’ customers–”     “We haven’t paid for anything, yet…”     “– and we deserve to be treated like it!”

    “Woody, calm down…” Winnie said, giving him a concerned look.  “We’ll be served, eventually…”     “I don’t wanna be served, ‘eventually!’” he argued.  “I wanna be served, right now!”     “Yeah… yeah!” Lola added, slamming her hands on the table.  “He’s right!  We deserve to be served!”     “What?  Guys…!”  The fox scowled to the two, his ears folding back.  “It’ll be alright!  Just… ya know, give it another 5 or 10 minutes!”     “No!”  Woody stood up.  “I’m gonna get us a waiter, right now!  Uh… uh… you!  Hey!”     Both the fox and the female woodpecker hid their faces.  Woody had hopped up to get the attention of a nearby waiter… and, unfortunately, he’d succeeded.

    “Yes?  How may I– oh, Woody!  Long time, no see!”     The fox’s ears perked.  That soft, high-pitched voice sounded vaguely familiar, to him…     “I haven’t seen you in over a year!  How have you been?”     He looked up, blinking his golden eyes.  Woody looked… surprised.

    The redheaded woodpecker was staring up, in-awe at a taller figure in a yellow dress shirt, black skirt, and what looked to be an apron.  She seemed to be a ‘toon girl that was drawn with simple shapes –  the sole exception being her bushy, shoulder-length orange hair, which was the most complicated part of her design, being segmented several times over and looking soft, despite the fact it hadn’t moved even an inch.  Something else about the hair caught his eye, as he continued to study the figure, though…  There was a bit shooting off the top of her head, almost like a sprig or a leaf of some kind.

    “Jojo?” he heard Lola call.  “Are you okay?  Your fur is standing up… and, not in a good way!  Is there an electromanget, nearby…?”     But, he wasn’t paying any attention to Lola, anymore.  A tensed-up Woody was leading that waitress back to their table and all he could do was stare…     Those orangey locks of hair…  Those friendly, blue eyes…  The way she walked… as though she were only partly-animated…  It really was like something out of his past.  But… that partly-animated ‘toon couldn’t be who he thought it was.  There was just no way!  But, then… he couldn’t think of anyone else that moved… or, even, looked like her…

    “I uh… I got us a waiter,” Woody stiffly said as he sat back down, briefly glancing at Joseph.  The fox had hidden behind his menu before they’d returned – something the bird figured he might do.  He seemed to know he’d just made a mistake by retrieving that waitress…     “Hello!  I’m really sorry, for the long wait!  We’re very busy, tonight!”     The waitress in yellow brightly smiled, her body moving in two sudden motions as she withdrew a notepad, from her apron.     “I’ll be your waitress for this evening,” she continued.  “My name is Shinko!”     The fox visibly jolted from hearing her name.  That caused the entire table, plus the lady in yellow, to look at him.     “Um… is he alright?” she asked.     “I… don’t know,” was Winnie’s response.  “Joseph?  Are you–”     He gave another jolt, sincerely wishing he hadn’t drawn attention to himself.

    “‘Joseph?’” Shinko repeated.  She took a second to look around the table… before realization overtook her.  She dropped her notepad, one of her hands rising up to her bow-tie and collar as she took a step back.     “No, it can’t be…” she audibly reassured herself.  “Joseph’s gone!  He left ToonTown again, just like he did before.  He… he…”     “He never left, Shinko…” Woody said with a skittish look toward her.     She took another step back, nearly bumping into another nearby table, much to the patron’s irritation.     “I… I…!”

    The stiff ‘toon spun around and ran away without so much as an explanation.  Woody shrunk down in his chair, shortly after, an uncomfortable look forming, on his face.  Even Winnie seemed more than a little bothered, by what had just happened.  Lola, on the other hand…     “What the heck was that all about?” she asked in confusion.  “Jojo?  Do you know that badly-animated girl?  Why’d she freak out, like that?  Is she afraid, of you?  She seemed afraid!”     Once again, all Joseph could offer was an uncomfortable jolt.     “Jojo…?”     “Um… Lola…”     The bunny perked, blinking her black eyes at Winnie as she spoke.     “That waitress was… I mean… Shinko was…”     “Waaait a sec…” A thoughtful look appeared on her face.  “Was she… Jojo’s ex…?”     “More like ‘never-was…’”     The female woodpecker gave a scowl.  “Woody!”     “What…?”  He rubbed his arm, unable to look at his girlfriend.  “It’s true, ain’t it?”     “That doesn’t mean you need to say it like that…”     “But, he’s not wrong…”

    The trio turned toward the fox as he finally spoke up.  When he lowered his menu, the three noticed… his ears were pressed firmly against his head, every strand of his fur seemed rigid, and he wouldn’t stop biting his lower lip.  On top of that, his golden eyes were glassy, as if he was on the verge of tears…

    “What… Jojo?” Lola quietly called.  “You’re not okay… are you?”     “He and Shinko have some… history… Lola,” Winnie offered with a concerned frown.     “Wait a second…”  The rabbit tilted her head, in thought.  “That name’s starting to sound familiar…  Where would I know a ‘Shinko’ from, though?”     “Well, I don’t think we’re gonna get any food, anytime soon…” Woody interjected, “so… how ‘bout we clue ya in, instead?”

    The bunny gave a blink…  She wanted to say something… but, given the grim looks on everyone’s faces, she decided to stay quiet.  Something told her that she was in for a story…