#it was too late to change how chai sits because i was too busy thinking about the stave it off 1-2-3 guy during almost the whole process

[sheepalmighty]

I don't know how electric guitars work

An OOC Chai that I'm not entirely happy with but I'll post it anyway along with a little piece for my AU just to answer a question I hadn't answered while daydreaming about it. I love the sky at the beginning of Track 10 so I wanted to incorporate it into the scene as well

[zenscrypt]

"keep counting (for patterns to repeat)"

read on ao3 here!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warning: suicidal ideation/thoughts

Summary:

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah. “Good left-click, Richas,” he jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

-- It's a quiet night on Quesadilla Island when Tallulah comes to visit her tío's cave for some training. Along the way, Etoiles gets more visitors.

Tallulah is not a fighter.

Quesadilla Island is not built for pacifists.

Purgatory especially was not. The feeling of an axe sitting in her paws was unfamiliar, unwieldy, even uncomfortable, makeshift and knobby because she made it herself at Dapper’s insistence. There were so many mobs -- so many summonings -- and she tried so hard to remember what her papa taught her, to mimic what Chay would do to protect her, to follow the words one of her tíos gave as advice. “Tallulah, when you’re sad, just kill mobs!”

Needless to say, Tallulah was really sad in purgatory. She wasn’t a fighter then, despite everything she went through, and still, she doesn’t think of herself as one now. But she wants to try.

“Tallulah? You don’t need to learn to fight, you are already amazing with your flowers?”

Emphasis on try.

It’s a quiet night when she joins Richar and Pomme on their late-night adventures. Not much happened with Tío Bad, thankfully, besides Richar insisting on breaking Bad’s machines consecutively to see if he would notice, and Pomme and Tallulah watching the chaos unfold. Bad shooed them off eventually after a goodbye with the ghosties; it was late enough Tallulah considered going to sleep, until Bad voiced his surprise of Tío Etoiles being awake at this hour. Pomme disappeared in a flash, as expected, and Richar asked Tallulah if she would stay up to hang out.

It wasn’t often Tallulah got to spend time with her tío. He seemed so busy nowadays, either sleeping through the week or completely gone from sight despite being online, which she wouldn’t want to interrupt. She doesn’t know how badly that code infection is impacting him either -- if it was the cause for him sleeping so much, or the reason she and her family never saw him as often, or if it did anything at all.

Turns out, he’s working on rebuilding his cave entrance when she agrees to come with Richar. Well -- Pomme is, Richar is helping her with the design, and Tío Etoiles is gathering whatever few supplies he can easily grind for. It reminded her of decorating the nest with herself, Chay, and Papa Phil.

It’s a little funny. Tío Etoiles really hasn’t changed, has he?

That brings her to this moment, adjusting the speaker block Pomme gave her. “Tallulah says,” the machine-voice in the block says, which grates Tallulah’s ears a bit as it says her own words, “i want to be a better fighter to defend myself tío, flowers can’t do that against withers :p”

Etoiles hums faintly. His inventory covers most of his face as he gathers more wood for the eggs, but she quietly watches the numbers of that warped scar glitch emerald skin into binary data. His eyes, sightless and cloudy-white, squint at each item he selects. There’s a pause between the items that takes… longer than normal. He doesn’t seem focused.

Tallulah can’t tear her eyes away from the code-infected scar. It’s-- is it a scar? It’s a strange shape that took his entire left arm. It’s infected, which is a more pressing worry. It goes into an eye. Is it impacting him that bad, that he looks so exhausted?

It’s pretty late, too; she asked him how he was, and he mentioned being unable to sleep but not having the energy to explore or do dungeons. Which… sounds like his chronic disease also, but…

Well, it reminds Tallulah of herself mostly. She’s stared at the ceiling of her papi’s house for so long she knows exactly how many blocks it takes up. She could recreate it with only her memory if she had the chance. Playing music only reminded her of how empty the house was, on really bad nights. Some nights, she thought the next day would never come.

She caught herself asking if she wanted it to, sometimes.

Maybe asking for fighting lessons wasn’t the right thing to do. It seemed like a good distraction, but she doesn’t want to force him to if he’s feeling the way she felt on bad nights. Guilt wells in her little eggshell -- did she mess up? He hasn’t responded yet--

“Tallulah,” Etoiles calls softly, stirring her out of her spiraling thoughts, “have you seen my dojo?”

Oh.

Oh!

Tallulah jumps to her feet in an instant, shaking her head rapidly. Maybe she didn’t mess up! Maybe her plan will work! Etoiles is pushing himself up to his feet as she bounces in place, chirping with excitement. When he gestures for her to follow him, she’s already scampering down the staircase to his cave.

---

Tallulah is a good fighter, Etoiles learns.

Flower picking is her strong suit, something better suited for her limited breath and less-than-sharp ears, but Phil must be teaching her well because she uses her height to her advantage. Her aim is impeccable too -- she’s quick to find the weaknesses in his armor and swings with enough force that Etoiles can actually feel the stick smacking into skin. Of course, she gets winded after each of her attacks and Etoiles backs away to give her space, quietly observing.

He does his best to deliver the pointers she seemingly asked for, which is shit because another sleepless night doing nothing but thinking means his English is starting to slip. He’s also missing his swings to give her a challenge, unable to focus long enough on stars and stardust to find where she’s at. He nearly trips on her on occasion, easily the most frustrating of this night. How can he not see a little egg in front of him?

During a moment where Tallulah’s breath starts to sound like a whistle, Etoiles calls for a break. “You did well,” he says, reaching over to pat her mushroom head. Inside her shell, her breath rattles, but she manages a wheezy chirp of satisfaction -- and then faceplants into the tatami mats. Etoiles huffs out a laugh.

“Pick yourself up, queen, you play so well! You can fuck up everyone in your path, no problem. You don’t need my help.” Which he means. He was just about as clumsy and shit as any regular mob on this island, and if he had no armor, he would’ve been dead. Her biggest issue is trying to do so many jumping attacks for critical damage, but if her threats are mobs, she’s perfect. Her form wasn’t even sloppy.

In the distance, he hears the sounds of teleportation and lifts his head to the dojo entrance.

While still face-down and breathing hard, Tallulah slaps a sign on the ground. Keeping his ears alert, Etoiles reaches to translate it. [ you were good target practice tho :D ]

More teleportation sounds go off. He grins at the sign. “Good target practice? Tallulah, I was shit and you know it. I was like- like that horse riding mob, Tallulah. A meature. You could’ve killed me no problem. If you had your flowers, I would be dead in one hit.”

Tallulah trills, and her blurry shape shifts back to a proper sitting position. She’s close enough that her eggshell brushes against his knee, bleeding warmth into his padded leggings. The next sign she places is directly in front of him. [ papa phil thinks roses are pretty strong ]

Does he? Etoiles scoffs, bumping his knee against her goodnaturedly. “Of course Felipe Minecraft knows this. To him, roses must do plus ten damages, and- and Pomme’s favorite flowers do twenty! Sunflowers do three, I know this because they’re a shit flower.”

That wins him another delighted trill and a keyboard smash of a sign, which he takes as a victory.

Faintly, he hears footsteps, clicking on his quartz floors. Richas and Pomme’s footsteps are quieter than that, but the fact that he can hear this visitor is reassuring. Whoever it is wouldn’t announce their presence so easily if they wanted to harm Tallulah.

He can barely see Tallulah’s stardust pattern next to him, so he doesn’t bother trying to figure out who this is. They’re approaching him anyway. He’ll find out soon enough.

To his left, there’s a gentle rattling noise -- a maraca, he registers, because Tallulah stops shaking it when he looks over. There’s a new sign she’s written, replacing the one in front of him, [ here tío, i think papa phil would want you to have this ]

In her extended paws sits something with a vibrant, rich red color.

A rose. Oh, of course -- what else could it have been? A stray thorn pricks his finger as he takes it, and his dark blood beads onto the soft, scarlet petals just before his body heals over the wound in the next half-second. He huffs out a quiet laugh, rotating the flower in his hand carefully. “This is for me, Tallulah?”

The purple of her mushroom head dips in an enthusiastic nod. It isn’t blue, and it’s not a cornflower, but Etoiles thinks it matches the collection Pomme’s been giving him in his backpack.

“Thank you, Tallulah,” he says solemnly, switching it to his off-hand to pat her bouncy helmet. “I’ll be the strongest warrior on the island with this.”

Tallulah bumps her head against his hand affectionately with a happy chirp. He can hear her tail wag just slightly, dragging on the mats underneath them, before it gives an audible thump. She trills loudly, sudden, and rocks up to her feet, bounding off and out of the dojo without another word. Etoiles blinks.

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah.

If the noisy, high-pitched chirps now ringing in his ears weren’t enough of an indicator of who’s here, the dark blue sign in front of him and hazy red blob of a cow head is. “Nice left-click, Richas,” Etoiles jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed more gently than the fast (and painless) punches and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

Ah, that explains it. Phil’s here.

Well-- almost Philza. Tallulah and Ph-- Eggza are too far away for him to see, somewhere between his white floors and the distant, dark blackstone of his staircase entrance. “Richas, that is a shit trade, man,” he bemoans, tearing his eyes away but making sure his voice still carries through his cave, “why would I want that piece of shit egg? He doesn’t even have a shell! He- he doesn’t have flowers like Tallulah, and I’m a builder, Richas. I want flowers, not goats.”

It’s pointless to goad on Eggza, he knows, their usual banter tends to fall flat when it’s one-sided -- this man, this tryhard is so focused on grinding for shitty cookies instead of spending time with friends -- but like the grin on his lips, he can’t help himself. Richas lets out a squeaky laugh, reminding him of Pac’s laughter, and swats for his attention again. [ KKKKKKKK ] [ I don’t see any goats but YOU tonton >:D ]

“What!” Etoiles exclaims in mock-offense. “How could you say that, Richas? You’re standing right here?”

Whack. He’s learned, since telling Richas about his blindness, that the egg now communicates his head movements with more punches instead. Somehow, it works for them. Richas paces in front of him with that chirpy laughter before he finally breaks his sign and replaces it with a new one. [ how did llulahs training go??? ]

“She doesn’t need training, actually,” he says. Chayanne is the warrior between the two siblings -- Etoiles would know, constantly ribbing on the egg’s fighting style much to his dismay -- but when your dad is Felipe Minecraft, it makes sense to him that she would impress him so much. To not only fight, but be able to land precise hits when already struggling for breath is black-belt worthy to Etoiles, no stick fight required. “She already knows how to fight well, and I was just a, uh- a body for her to hit. She didn’t need my help.”

Was purgatory what changed her? Fighting to survive would do that, he thinks -- turn pacifists into keen-eyed warriors, even the ones that prefer flowers to weapons like Tallulah. He frowns and presses his thumb against one of the thorns on the rose. What a shitty life, to be forced to fight.

The eggs weren’t forced to fight each other, at least. They weren’t against Badboy and Toby Roblox at least -- or, really, any of their friends. Their siblings. They just had to survive, not compete, not win.

(Ever since that three-day-long dream he had of another purgatory, another chance to win, another fight to survive and kill both strangers and old comrades -- it felt like a dream to him. He hasn’t been sleeping well recently. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of radioactive water, of that brand on his hand staring back at him, of tearing into flesh with his swords and covered in blood and wanting more -- and then he wakes up on this shit island where nothing happens unless he’s unconscious.

Seriously. He sleeps an hour later than usual, and Phil is saying he missed the biggest fight of his lifetime, Empanada died, Tubbo’s armor is gone, Phil was knocked down-- he missed a fun fight because this shit island hates him and so does insomnia.)

Whack! [ so she kicked your ass?? 0_0 ] Richas’ sign says, jerking Etoiles out of his thoughts.

It’s not hard to kick my ass, he wants to say, just stay up until 4AM and log-in right at the spot to turn in your contracts to override all of my team’s hard work. His skin catches on the thorn. Phil’s geta click on quartz again, and Etoiles grins. “Richas, she destroyed me, man. She is- she’s a black belt in my dojo, I stood no chance. She took out this flower and I was on the floor instantly. Minus 70 damages.”

Following right after Phil’s geta are more tapping claws, which wheeze as the egg gets closer -- whack, Tallulah smacks Richas away, startling a bark of laughter from Etoiles. “Like that! See! She’s so cracked!”

His dojo quickly fills with the typical sounds of eggs bickering with each other, the occasional thump or whack of a playfight happening somewhere behind him. Etoiles tilts his head to find a familiar leathery-black mask staring down at him. “Hello, Eggza,” he hums, smiling wide enough to bare his teeth.

Phil makes a muffled, indistinct noise as Etoiles pushes himself up to his feet, and the dark wings behind him rustle quietly, shifting in place. “Are you here to collect your egg, Eggza?” he asks.

A quiet huff. “No?” He raises an eyebrow. Tallulah’s sing-song chirps sound victorious somewhere to his right with Richas’ indignant hisses following right after it. Pomme must’ve stayed at the cave entrance to focus on decorating. What was it Richas asked? “There are no cookies here, Phil. Have you come to my dojo to fight?”

Another huff, this time accentuated with a faint laugh-like noise. Etoiles exclaims in disbelief, “What? You come to my dojo and not want to fight, Felipe? Why the hell are you here then? To say ‘hello, mate’ and be the man that you are?”

Phil laughs that quiet noise again and then turns on his heel in a careful motion, eyeing the ground for a moment. Then-- Etoiles blinks when he hears the sound of… a sign being placed. Phil placed a sign? Curious, he peers around the silhouette of a wing and finds a dark green sign-- dark green?-- “Phil, my bro,” he exclaims, now genuinely incredulous, “you are not an egg? What are these signs? Did you make them just for you?” Sure, maybe that shade he’s never seen before could exist, alongside Gegg’s vibrant-green, but Phil using it?

Is this how deep it goes? he wonders, backing up to give Phil’s wings space. This state that he’s in, Etoiles has only came across Phil around the bakery at spawn, gathering cookies for his eggs -- but he knows Phil like this, too. At least, part of it.

Purgatory didn’t change just Tallulah, after all.

Phil’s wings healed during that time, and with it, something else inside him too. He was coherent in purgatory, though -- coherent enough to speak, stumbling over his bird-like noises to clarify what he was trying to say. Writing with signs is new. (He sees why Fit and Pac call him Eggza now, even if Phil is far from an egg in Etoiles’ eyes.)

How different is he, then? How much is intact since purgatory? His wings were broken from the flight carrying Tubbo, but they weren’t clipped, the Federation hasn’t intervened (yet), they aren’t small and weak and hidden like before the eggs disappeared.

An old itch begins to flare up. Phil’s changed. How far?

The shadows in front of him shift eventually, revealing what Phil’s written. [ can i not say hi to a friend? :> ]

Just as he stooped down to translate it, Etoiles is smacked by a small, fast-tapping paw. Phil’s also hit, eliciting a startled caw from the man and a chorus of tittering egg-laughs. Etoiles hums. “Yes, Richas?”

Richas guides his hand to the signs instead of smacking him again. [ pleasure doing business with you tonton o7 ] [ llulah n i will get back to work >:D ]

Oh, that’s what he asked. Etoiles didn’t even give him an answer -- and he considers complaining again, just to rib on Eggza some more, but instead he ruffles Richas’ cow head. “Okay, Richas,” he says. “Pomme is your leader, don’t forget that.”

Thump. He places another sign. [ don’t forget that ur the best tonton >:] ] Tallulah nudges Phil and chirps something beside Etoiles; Phil echoes it, the noise richer in response, unfamiliar to his ears. Maybe something referring to flock, if he guessed right.

With that, the two eggs head off, their claws scratching at quartz as they run.

Silence follows where Etoiles doesn’t fill it. Phil’s head is turned away, watching the eggs leave, and for a moment, Etoiles wishes he could see. Are there more feathers where there hasn’t been? What else has changed that he can’t see? How much is still Phil?

The elytrian shifts then, remembering himself and the sign he placed at his feet. Soundlessly, he breaks it manually, without an axe, just plucking it from the ground; Etoiles watches the sign disappear into his inventory.

“You come here to say hello,” he voices, catching Phil’s attention with the lilt in his voice, “except you’re writing with signs. You aren’t an egg, Phil. I know your voice, I know where you live -- I know what you are, Phil. You can speak to me, no? You trust me, right?”

It’s not avian-speak Phil makes -- it’s not the typical squawks and chirps Baghera made, nor the noises he catches the eggs making on occasion -- it’s Endspeak. An ancient language that can be disguised as avian, thanks to similar vocal chord structures, but it’s sharper, centered in the chest rather than the throat. If Phil isn’t capable of speech --

How far can he push?

“It’s okay, Phil,” he says quickly. The rose in his left hand is an afterthought as he searches for a stick. “You don’t need to say anything actually. No worries. How about we stick fight? 1v1? You come to my dojo, you should expect a fight, man.”

Unsurprisingly, Phil turns to place a sign again, and Etoiles lets him. Taps the stick he’s holding against his leg, slowly, counting. It can snap easily in his hands if he wanted it to. A clean snap right through the middle, showering the floor in splintering fragments. Phil steps away.

All the text-to-speech translation says is: [ bruh ].

Etoiles sputters -- partially amused by the simple response, the other-- “Bruh, he says, taking 70 years to type it! He can left-click but he can’t type four letters, what the hell? Felipe, my bro, you should know the rules of my dojo. You can’t ‘bruh’ my rules.”

Then, daring, he takes a step forward and smacks the stick against Phil’s leg, where he knows it is. The answering yelp sounds like a bark forced from his chest -- Etoiles grins, sharp. “Come, Phil! Just one fight. It’s all I ask of you.” Just one. One is fair, one is reasonable, one is all he wants. He has to see who this is.

Another sign is placed. Etoiles hums -- and jabs forward, hitting Phil somewhere in his flank. Phil flinches away with a startled hiss, sparks spitting. He takes a step back -- Etoiles matches him, letting his other hand (there’s a flower there?) brush against the sign to translate it as he passes.

[ not fighting you king, its too late ]

Too late, he says, as if they’re sleeping. Phil stops retreating, so he stops advancing, hitting the stick against his knee. He barely registers the pain. The shadows in front of him are massive, but he’s seen bigger -- seen them spread wider as he stood behind them, shielded from view, the rest of the team, Bolas, next to him. Where is it? “Phil, we are here, aren’t we? It won’t take long. You can win and I’ll stop.”

He waits for a sign to be placed, his grip holding the stick tighter. It hasn’t cracked yet, but he aches for the burn. Tap. tap. tap. Just one fight. Just one.

When he hears nothing, he takes another step forward. Phil remains in place. His geta don’t scuff on the dojo’s floors. If Etoiles focuses, he can see that leather-masked gaze holding his somewhere between growing darkness. Wider, wider, it spreads. There? Is that it?

The stick raises into the air.

Shadows flare.

And when a solid force collides into him and knocks him flat on his back, all Etoiles can feel is blinding victory. This is it. This has to be it. He just has to-- he has to fight back--

His weapon is gone. All he has is a- a stupid flower that doesn’t even have the same attack stat as a stick-- Phil’s weight keeps him firmly on the ground and staying there, talons burrowing into wrists and a heavy pressure on his stomach. He isn’t struggling. He can’t, he reasons, his arms are heavy and he can barely focus -- but he’s baring his teeth to the elytrian above him like he’s winning. “Wow!” he barks, something inside him thrashing when he cannot, “No stick fights, says Felipe, so he pins me down like an American! Like an American football star, okay. I see you, Felipe.”

Whatever noise he was expecting, he wasn’t thinking a- a croon, now so much louder than he expected, rumbling against his pinned body. A rubber beak nudges against his jawline, shutting Etoiles up instantly. It’s strange -- something wars inside his head, instincts vs. logic, with a clear loser. He cranes his neck up, further, to give Phil space.

Well? Phil won. Spoils go to the victor, after all.

Through the mask, Phil’s breath comes out in huffs against his neck, right at the sensitive-- vulnerable, weak, prime spot to notch a weapon-- junction of his neck. Something inside him thrills at the attention.

Distantly, Etoiles wonders how they must look. Is it just them in his dojo, in the darkness of Phil’s feathers, in the night sky gleaming with star-shaped flowers? Are Phil’s wings shadowing over him, shielding him from view, like the void enveloping him whole? Is he prey caught by an elytrian with its wings poised for flight against its back, about to be slaughtered?

Oh, what a way to die. Etoiles sinks into the embrace. Craves it. Part of Etoiles wants to beg -- he needs to see if Phil will do it. If Phil had the capacity to kill him. If Phil could give him a death he’ll finally be satisfied with.

Make me bleed, he prays.

Aloud, he whispers, barely audible even to himself, “Phil? Can I take off your mask?”

Phil pulls away only slightly, his breath fanning over Etoiles’ face. To his surprise, Phil chirps only a second later in the affirmative. When Etoiles reaches a freed hand to the buckles of the mask, Phil leans into his touch, rumbling quietly, contentedly.

Suddenly, Etoiles’ fingers are unsure, breath lodged in his throat, unseeing eyes squinting in concentration and, distantly, anticipation.

The mask is loose and slides into Etoiles’ hand. Carefully, he sets it to the side beside his head. Then, indulgent, desperate, he cranes his neck up and cups Phil’s jaw with the same hand.

Please, he begs. His lips stay shut.

He waits for the fangs. He waits for talons. He waits for the searing burn of pain to tear his throat open and let him bleed out inside his own home, in his dojo, in the arms of his captain.

If “Eggza” is his elytrian instincts repaired, then Etoiles aches to be his first blood.

Phil’s lips are soft, when they press against his.

…oh.

Of course.

A small laugh huffs against Phil’s lips -- because Etoiles should’ve expected this answer.

He hadn’t realized he asked. Or that Phil heard.

Still, he leans into the kiss, fitting his hand securely over Phil’s cheek to press deeper. It was light, Phil asking his own question in response; on any other day, Etoiles would push further, fight even harder for Phil to give him what he really wanted, but the elytrian above him lets out a coo so low it vibrates in his chest as he slots their lips together.

If Etoiles had any more fight left in him, he would insist he didn’t deserve this. Phil’s arm braces above his head somewhere, and talons run through his hair and against his scalp, and it’s so nice. There’s no yanking. No tearing. No fight he had to win. Just… being held and kissed.

So instead, he sighs and gives into the gentle, lapping waves of fluttering, midnight wings.

(Maybe I’m already bleeding, he thinks distantly. Just not the way he initially thought.)

Phil’s the one that parts first with a quiet hum. Etoiles takes in a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut to settle against the mats. His mind feels blissfully quiet for once.

A hand brushes down his face, pets his facial hair, runs across his lips. Etoiles lets it trail over him and feels proud that he only briefly wanted to be kissed again.

Pressure leans against his forehead, stirring his eyes open again. It’s habit to open them, obviously, because he already knows it’s Phil pressing their heads together, his nose slotting against Etoiles’. A trill follows, deep in Phil’s throat, that Etoiles recognizes faintly. He doesn’t know the exact translation, no matter how many times he’s heard Phil make it during purgatory, or to his eggs. He thinks it’s a name. A title, maybe. A declaration.

His chest is tight. Etoiles hums quietly. One day, he’ll figure out what it means.

Eventually, Phil takes mercy on him. With one final trill, he backs away fully, his weight disappearing from Etoiles’ body, and is gone before he even realizes it. The roof of his dojo is plain without the borders of void-coated feathers and golden hair. What a shame.

(What a shame -- that Phil left? Or that Phil didn’t kill him? He isn’t sure.)

As he laments, floating somewhere between the clouds and the night sky, he hears something sharp, quick -- a snap of fingers. Etoiles lifts his head.

Instead of grabbing his gas mask like what Etoiles expected, Phil stands over him with a black-tinted hand offered. Oh. He wants to help Etoiles up? A pleasant warmth sits in his chest like a gentle campfire, and with the snap comes reality.

“Oh, look at you, Felipe,” Etoiles says with a grin, breaking the silent air of his dojo. “Giving me your hand to pull me up like the goat that you are? Thank you, my bro.” He sits up and clasps his hand into Phil’s, letting the elytrian yank him up to his feet with a subtle flap of his wings.

It was a forceful tug alongside an amused chitter, enough that Etoiles has to catch himself before he crashed into Phil; that campfire crackles. It’s not the sun he looks it in spite of the warmth, but somehow, it makes it better. “Okay, Phil? You’re so strong? You have big biceps? You don’t need to flex on me, man, I already know you have a nice cock.”

And, because he can, he reaches for Phil’s face to kiss him again.

His advances are met with a scowl he feels against his lips and a firm swat of one heavy wing upside his head. “Oh, he hits me!” Etoiles shouts with a bark of laughter, ducking out of the way. “Felipe hits me because I gave him a kiss! So you won’t accept my affections either, Phil? Okay, man. Sorry. Your cock is shit, actually.”

Whack! Phil’s wings hit hard, what the hell? The next dodge he does skirts him around the elytrian, sidestepping shadows to stand next to Phil, away from any more wing-hits. Phil chitters louder, almost involuntarily; now it really sounds like his cawing laughter.

Etoiles’ laughing along with him. “Deserved, deserved.”

How could he be so stupid? Why would he ever think Phil would change, just like that, from purgatory? Tallulah still gives flowers, Pomme is still headstrong, Richas… hasn’t changed whatsoever, now that he thinks about it -- and, maybe, Etoiles himself hasn’t changed too. Phil hasn’t.

Phil is still the goat, and the man that won’t listen to his braindead desires of dying a cool death. Why did he ever beg the man to kill him? The thought sounds ridiculous the more he thinks about it.

Would it be legendary? Yes. Is it still something Etoiles wants to happen? Perhaps. Will he ever get it? No.

And he’s fine with that.

Thump. Etoiles blinks. A sign?

Phil turns around to look at him, standing in front with something in his hand and the sign placed by his feet. As Etoiles steps forward to translate it, he catches red in Phil’s dark hands. [ where did this rose come from? ]

Oh. “Tallulah gave it to me,” Etoiles says softly. I forgot it was in my hand, he adds to himself. “I hope it’s not broken?”

The red blur in Phil’s hands looks fine, but it’s hard to tell. Phil examines it with a quiet, contemplative noise for a moment. It’s only a flower, Etoiles catches himself thinking -- but it’s a rose, isn’t it? Roses are strong, Tallulah said. He thought maybe she meant it the same way Pomme means it, but… what about Phil?

A black hand raises to his face, bearing that red, red rose. It hesitates just in front of him, asking, and Etoiles stops himself from taking a step back. Instinctively, he tries to search for Phil’s eyes -- but-- Phil makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. The hand wavers.

It’s Phil, he reminds himself.

When he leans forward, into Phil’s hold, he feels the flower stem slide just above his ear. Talons briefly pinch his skin as Phil carefully adjusts the flower, tucking it underneath his eye-mask, securing it in place. The thorns are gone, as if they’ve been plucked off. All that’s left are the soft petals that brush against the side of Etoiles’ face.

When Etoiles finally gives in and leans down, he feels Phil coo against his lips.

(Flowers aren’t weapons, he knows this. They don't have to be. They shouldn’t be, not just for their shitty attack stats, but also because… it’s nice. A few flowers bloom in his hair on occasion, which Pomme loves for decorations -- and Antoine loves to pluck straight from his scalp -- and while he thinks the blooming is an annoyance, it’s only flowers. The flowers that his daughter loves.

Tallulah said roses are strong, and Phil believes they are, for whatever reason, even when he’s like this. Logically, it makes no sense, but…

Well. Etoiles doesn’t give a shit about the semantics now. Flowers can be powerful if Phil thinks so.)

---

Richarlyson’s feet have never moved faster than the way they do now -- and Tallulah has half the mind to join her in the sprint across Tío Etoiles’ cave. Chayanne is not going to like this when I tell him, she thinks, already imagining the horror in Chayanne’s shell.

[ off she goes ] Pomme writes with a sign that stops Tallulah in her tracks, rumbling in her shell with amusement.

Tallulah faceplants into the floor. [ on her way to ruin a sweet moment :’) ]

Yesyes, Pomme chirps in agreement and a comforting pat on Tallulah’s back, silly egg, silly sibling. With a huff, Tallulah stands back up in time for another wine-red sign to appear, and for Richar to make contact with her papa and tío. He’s accosting them as she expected, surrounding them in a myriad of signs, aggressive chirps, and plenty of punches for the both of them. [ oh well. im sure papa is feeling better now :D ]

Hopefully, he is, Tallulah thinks, but she has a feeling Tío Etoiles is. Beside him, Papa Phil looks content, fondly watching the two bicker with his face free from his silly bird mask. Etoiles takes Richar’s swatting in stride, backing away from him and complimenting his strikes just like when Tallulah was sparring with him.

Unlike that moment, though, Etoiles is grinning, not pensive, and he moves a little more sure on his feet, sidestepping and dodging each Richar blow. He looks… happier.

Tallulah eyes her papa again and rumbles, happy papa, happy, silly. He did that to Tío, she’s sure of it. If a spar wasn’t going to do it, and if Tallulah couldn’t, then she’s glad her papa did. Chayannechen can get defensive over Papa and Pa Missa’s relationship another day. She’s certain this was different, in any case.

Pomme mimics her noises warmly, rustling through her backpack to dig out a diary. Richar suddenly whirls to Phil and starts smacking him with enraged squeaks, causing him to yelp, dodging another attack. Whatever they’re talking about seems like fofoca, but Tío Etoiles doesn’t seem embarrassed, neither does Papa. She can see the rose in her tío’s hair too. Good.

Bomp, Pomme’s placing another sign, floating in the air where she sits. [ whats uncle phil doing here btw??? was he looking for you ? ]

Was he? If she’s being honest, Tallulah isn’t really sure. She left Papa Phil in Rosa’s Sanctuary, where he was half-draped across Missa’s sleeping body, and she wasn’t expecting him to be awake at this time. Even when he’s like this, Endspeaking more than normal, she figured it was too early for him to start gathering cookies. Did he know she was with her tíos and came to find her? Was he here for Etoiles? Was it pure luck, or curiosity, to come here?

She doesn’t know. He was fine, he had reassured her when he first appeared in the cave. Chay and Missa were safe still, but he didn’t elaborate any further than that. She has some guesses as to why her papa is here, like this, and even when he’s extra affectionate and gentle with her in this state, he still doesn’t like sharing his feelings. It wasn’t due to a lack of trust -- it’s just her papa being her papa.

It isn’t a bad thing. He wanted to see somebody here, to check in on them, and Tallulah finds it hard to get upset at her papa when he’s cooing and fawning over her and her siblings. Some nights can be too quiet sometimes.

Eventually, she settles with a simple, [ i think he wanted some company ].

Awake company, that is, at this hour of night. Once she's ready to go, she's sure he'll tag along with her back to the sanctuary for some proper sleep. Whether he woke up due to her absence or from a nightmare, she knows he's tired.

Tallulah thinks she’s earned sleep after this. Tío Etoiles especially deserves it.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

@elithemiar-blog

Is everyone aware of said fever dream or is this like a combination of regrets, fears, and wishes of each individual person? My brain goes to my alternate life through dream connections theory. But post-fever dream they gotta figure out Korn's bullshit and do some heavy and necessary reconnection because now they know it could've been worse.

I'm not sure how I would play it (bc im not writing it!! she insists, futilely) I do think it's important they never know each other. Or, that they eventually meet in different ways, and it doesn't change anything, adding to the tragedy. It's too late for any of them to build what could have been. Kim would obviously never meet Chay, and Porsche could forgive the mafia for a lot of things, but not for killing his brother. I also don't want the reader to have that relief of knowing it was just a dream, and everything will be okay in the end ; )

I kind of like the idea of a ships passing in the night kind of dynamic? Chay starts out as a Wik superfan, and when the scandal breaks that he's really a murderous mafia criminal, he's devastated. And then everything snowballs to Kim first being forced into become a full time enforcer, then into taking over entirely. Part of him even wants it; if he's going to put this much of himself into the business, then he isn't going to sit quietly while Kinn makes decisions he disagrees with.

When Chay is killed, someone probably thinks it's a good idea to provide proof to the BossTM. Kim isn't totally cold-hearted. It bothers him a little bit that an innocent kid had to die for his brother's/uncle's mistakes. But that's the reality of his business, and he doesn't get to have a conscience. Kinn tried, and look what that got him. Used up, thrown away, and betrayed by everyone he loved, Kim included. (The lackey's probably also sent Kim a picture of Chay's Wik wall, still up despite the scandal, and it still tugs at his heart to be reminded of what he lost. He used to be someone good. Now look at him, someone loved him, and it did nothing but get them killed.)

IDK yet what would be the most painful place for Kinn to end up in. Maybe he turns out like Tankhun; unable to leave, but not allowed to participate in any significant way. Maybe he's even allowed to be propped up as Kim's figurehead, all of them knowing he has no true power.

Like I said in the replies, Vegas is unable to protect Macau from their father's abuse, though I have no idea if he'll be killed of like Chay. Maybe instead Macau is beaten into becoming another one of the minor family attack dogs, even as Vegas tries to keep him away from it.

But I don't need to worry about that, bc I'm not writing it!

Whiskey Dreams: A Porsche-centric fic I'll never write where none of the mafia events happen, he never meets Kinn, and his debts are never cleared. He works himself trying to keep his head above water, trying to keep Chay safe, and it's not enough. It's never enough. And he can't do anything watch as things go from bad to worse, as life takes, and takes, and takes, until there's nothing left.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here!

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: This is the last part to The miscommunication series, I hope you guys enjoy it ;) Also peep the last link to ‘Zine’ and stay tuned

This is weird.

You look up from your textbook at the scrawny boy across from you. The circles under his eyes look especially dark as the blue light from his tablet shines on his face.

Yeah, this situation is super weird.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but you’ve been avoiding Dick a little bit lately.

You’re still pleasant to him in class, and you see him at the study group sessions, but you don’t try to make the effort to see him in situations where it’s just the two of you.

You’re just not ready to see him with all these feelings brewing inside you.

So the last thing you wanted was to run into his little brother, especially when you purposefully went to another coffee shop across town just so you wouldn’t run into Dick.

Still, you’re surprised Tim chose to sit with you after ordering 4 shots of espresso over ice.

“The ice makes it cold so you can’t taste how bitter it is” he had told you when you looked at his drink with a skeptical expression.

Well, it’s not a problem, you think taking a sip of your chai tea. Tim seems like a quiet person, he’s only said a handful of words to you so far, he probably won’t even bring up -

“So are you and Dick fighting?” Tim asks without looking up and you choke on your tea.

“So you are fighting” he hums as his gaze trails from his tablet to you. He figured Dick was being paranoid, honestly, even Tim thought following you to the coffee shop and pretending that he just ran into you was overkill.

Man, he figured you were just in the middle of some misunderstanding. He’s usually right about these things. Tim’s not going to lie, it stings to know Dick was on the nose about this one.

“It’s not that we’re fighting,” because you both really aren’t, there’s only going to be a fight if he finds out how you feel and how uncomfortable your new feelings make him considering he already has someone he loves.

“I just don’t want to get between him-“

“And Nightwing?” Tim supplies for you and your eyes widen.

“You know?” Tim nods in response.

You think Tim is saying he knows his brother and Nightwing are dating.

Tim thinks that you found out Dick got reprimanded a few weeks ago because he was spotted chatting with you on your balcony. He was able to play it off as just a normal chat but he would be risking exposing you to every villain in Gotham if they ever found out your were someone important to him.

“Maybe you are-“ Tim hums. You feel like a lightning bolt has struck your spine. So Dick does know about your feelings - or at least suspects something.

“But that’s not exactly a bad thing” Tim finishes, and you raise an eyebrow. You wait for an explanation but Tim’s already turned back to his tablet, typing away.

You look at the city, buildings springing up like trees from the concrete, their jagged edges like the crooks of a mountain. Nothing’s really changed. Not the buildings, or the skyline, not the stars in the inky black void of outer space. Not the city that never seems to sleep, the idle chatter of cars and civilians always whirring in the distance.

The only thing that has seemed to change, is you.

“That smells good, is it green tea?”

Well, one other thing has changed. You find a smile twitching onto your mouth as you hand Nightwing the mug in your hands. He’s perched on the ledge of your balcony, legs swing against the bars.

You get anxious just watching him.

“I had a feeling you’d stop by, it’s cherry blossom green tea, I think you’ll like it.” It’s a naturally sweet tea, so he should find it suits his taste considering he seems to share the same disposition for sweet things as his boyfriend.

You know that encounter with Tim this morning was weird, but the fact that you’ve kind of become late-night tea and chat buddies with your love rival is even weirder.

Looks like you can’t even make friends in a normal way.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grins taking a sip of the hot beverage with a satisfied smile. The hum he lets out afterward sends shivers down your spine. Geez, no wonders Dick has it so bad for him.

You wonder what kind of noises he makes when they’re together-

Nope. Nope. No. Nope. No.

That was too far, your imagination really needs to get a grip.

“So how are things with you and that guy you love?” You flinch at the mention, choosing to take an unusually long sip of tea right then.

“That good huh?” Nightwing snorts, and you sigh. You’re not going to tell him about the cryptic conversation you had with Tim, especially considering the fact that he doesn’t seem to support their relationship.

Dick feels a little frustrated, as he watches you avoid his eyes. The whole thing seems off like there’s something missing. So you don’t want to be seen with Dick Grayson, but you don’t mind midnight tea talk with Nightwing- and you tell Tim how you don’t want to get in between him and his superhero persona- and then you wave him over when you see he’s a rooftop over-

It just doesn’t make any sense.

And worst of all-you look so pretty standing there, even with that sad look on your face.

“Well you know what they say-“ you let out a dry laugh, “to get over someone, you have to get under someone else”

It’s just a joke - a bad joke, you’re helping it’ll ease the tension. You figure Nightwing will make a dumb joke or pun back, and this whole thing can be behind you when he says-

“Get under me then” you’re so taken aback but what he’s said you’re sure he must have heard wrong. But when you look away from the green tea in your mug to his face, that chiseled face is only a few inches away from your own.

Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing so close to you, his lips are pressed over your own. His gloved fingers ghosting over your cheek, holding it so tenderly that the action sends shivers down your spine.

Dick pulls away, fingers retreating to his domino mask, he doesn’t want to confess to you as Nightwing he wants to do it as Dick-

When you slap him.

This has seriously been the worst day. Dick sighs as he turns the water faucet to his shower off, grabbing his towel from the rack.

First, he forgets his cell phone at home on a Monday afternoon, so he’s got nothing to do to pass the time while he patrols.

Then the girl he likes slaps him before running back into her apartment without another word, probably to go cry-

And finally, to make the perfect end to the perfect day Dick got caught in a spontaneous rainstorm, getting soaked to the bone on his way back home. He figured Gotham could wait for a few hours and decided to come home a little early.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch a cold” he mumbles tying his robe around his waist, his hands moving the towel to dry his hair, stopping mid-motion when he hears several very urgent knocks.

Well, who could it be at this hour? He’s considering ignoring it, probably just one of his brothers wanting to use his shower, when he hears several more knocks.

“Geez Jason, the neighbors are going to complain” he hisses, as he clings open the door, fully expecting to see his younger brother drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the middle of his apartment building's hallway.

And someone is standing in the middle of his apartment building's communal hallway, drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the hallway. But it’s not Jason, it’s you.

He only pulls you inside his apartment, the door clicking behind you when you break down into tears.

“I-I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to, I should have known better but- I didn’t think it would happen” The words are jilted by your tears and your chattering teeth. Did you run all the way here? Dick wonders as he starts using his slightly damp towel to dry your hair.

“I really didn’t want it, Dick, I promise I didn’t-“ you clasp his arm now jilting his movements. In the pandemonium, he completely forgot that you were the one that slapped him just a few hours ago, and now you’re the one apologizing for something?

“What are you talking about?” he sees your gulp hard, your eyes averted like a dog that realizes he’s accidentally snapped at his owner. And then, with clenched eyes and your hands balled into fists you shout:

“Nightwing kissed me!” Yeah, he knows, he was there. Kinda weird that you’re referring to him with his superhero persona. You look at him earnestly now- clasping both of his hands in yours.

“I promise I didn’t mean to make a pass at your boyfriend or steal him away from you.”

.

..

...

Huh?

You’re babbling about how ‘You could do so much better than a guy like that Dick’ and ‘if it was me- I would never do something like that’ when the flashbulb finally goes off over his head.

Oh.

Ohhhhhhhh. You think he’s dating Nightwing. This actually explains a lot.

“Here come with me” he grabs onto your numb wrist before you can answer, tugging you towards his bedroom. Your eyes staring into his robe-covered back.

Oh no, you can’t believe you didn’t realize it before.

Nightwing’s here isn’t he? That would answer why he hasn’t answered any of the texts you’ve sent him. Who would when they were busy having a romantic liaison with their lover. And obviously, he spun some different story for Dick, probably that you kissed him. And now you’re going to have to confront them both and pray that Dick believes you-

Only to your surprise, the bedroom is empty, and Dick’s fiddling around with something in his rather large wardrobe. Before you can ask what he’s doing he pulls out a suit-

It almost looks like a wet suit, with accents of blue amongst the sleek black- so he surfs? Is he showing off right now?

But then your eyes land on the bright blue symbol smack dab in the middle of the chest.

So Nightwing was here, and he did spin another story! You’re mentally preparing your best argument when you look into Dick’s baby blue eyes stare into your own, softening as they gaze warmly at you.

“(Y/N), I’m Nightwing”

.

..

...

(Y/N).exe is broken

Dick watches you gulp hard. Then he watches you slide past him, each step pronounced with a squeak, and step into his wardrobe before closing it from the inside.

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)’s dead, so she can’t come to the phone anymore” Dick can practically feel the embarrassment radiate through the wardrobe door, and in spite of the situation, Dick laughs. He laughs so hard you actually swing open the door, crouched at the bottom of his wardrobe.

“It’s not funny Dick! Do you know how worried I was about you! I thought Bruce Wayne was homophobic and that you were leading some double life!” Dick only laughs harder at that. To be fair, he is leading a double life, just not the one you imagined he was.

“Well you’re not totally wrong,” he says between chuckles, sitting on the ground outside your wardrobe next to you. “I like guys and girls, but Bruce had it figured out before I even did,” he says with a shrug, mouth quirked up into a grin. His cheeks hold a rosy tinge, but somehow his red cheek is even brighter-

Ah, that’s the cheek you slapped.

Without thinking you reach out to him, your thumb caressing the swollen flesh. Dick doesn’t flinch away, relaxing into your touch.

“Sorry about that, I thought your boyfriend was cheating on you,” you say with a sheepish smile. Dick grins even wider.

“Would the response have been the same if you knew it was me?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and you feel your heartbeat stutter.

Is he stupid?

If you knew it was Dick if you knew it was the boy you loved sitting on your balcony railing drinking tea with you all those times-

“Of course I wouldn’t have”

And Dick doesn’t wait another moment, leaning forward to catch your lips in his own.

This time you don’t slap him. Instead, you place both hands on his face and pull him in closer.

BONUS:

“So you’re Nightwing-“ you say, sitting cross-legged across from Dick in a marching bathrobe in his bed. He insisted you shower, he didn’t want you getting sick. You thought he was going to combust with how red he turned when you jokingly asked if he wanted to join you.

“And your Dad, Bruce, he’s Batman”

“That’s right” Dick nods.

“And you’re brothers, they’re the Red Hood, Robin, and Red Robin... respectively,”

Dick nods again.

“And Stephanie and Cass, they’re a part of this too, They’re both Batgirl” Dick nods, he tries to get some eye contact, but you’re firmly starting down at your hands.

“And your ex, Barbara Gordon, Commissioner Gordon’s daughter- she’s the original Batgirl.”

This must be pretty overwhelming, he had never realized what a robust mantle their extended family collectively carried. He’s about to offer you some comfort when your head snaps up-

“Do you think if I got all of them to autograph my textbook I could sell it and buy a new one”

Dick starts laughing.

“Seriously, there’s no one like you in the world”

[poodlejoonas]

Olli - Honey Tea

For @bcfanweek​ Day 5: Olli Matela

Words: 1,350

Description: You come down with a summer cold and Olli comes to your rescue.

Notes: Olli Matela/Reader (gender unspecified)

Whatever that feeling was, it was uncomfortable as hell. You were bracing yourself for a long day at home because right now, you could barely be bothered to get out of bed. You felt feverish and achy, and the back of your throat felt like sandpaper. You felt this sensation creeping up on you over the last few days, but you brushed it off as nothing more than your body responding to stress.

Now you were paying for it in full force. It didn’t feel like COVID, and you were vaccinated recently, but it was unpleasant. You needed to do so many things that could make you feel better - make some tea, grab some tissues, take some medicine. But nothing you could do would give you the energy to get up long enough to do any of that. 

Half asleep and achy, you rolled over to your phone and scrolled through your contacts until you found “Olli 💌”. If anyone could help put you back together, it was your boyfriend Olli Matela. You’ve been together for almost a year now but you have yet to make the jump towards moving in with him. He’s been so busy lately that the thought of a stressful life transition was too much to deal with. But you understood loud and clear - his career was on its way up, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him.

But now, all you could hope for was that he’d pick up your call. The phone rang for a few seconds until his raspy voice broke through on the other end. “Kulta?” he started, sounding half-asleep himself.

You wanted to say something, but a cough pushed its way out first. “Olli, are you busy today?” You were taken aback at how rough your voice sounded.

“No, why? What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m sick and I can barely get myself out of bed.” A sentence that long had hurt to get out. “Can you come over? I’ll pay you back later.”

You could hear the sheets on his other end rubbing together as he sat himself up. “You don’t have to do that, I’d take care of you for free. Give me half an hour, I’ll be there.”

You smiled. “Thank you, my love. See you soon.” As soon as you ended the call, you began a coughing fit that put a cramp in your side. You couldn’t wait for Olli to arrive so you didn’t feel like you were suffering alone.

Olli already had a key to your house, which he used to get in today. He called out your name, but there was no response. He journeyed further into your room to find that you had already fallen back asleep, the exhaustion from barely being able to rest the night before putting you out again. Olli’s heart hurt at the sight of you looking so miserable, your face pale and covered in red patches from the pain in your sinuses, but you looked like you found some peace in your sleep.

He walked over to your bed, sitting down on the edge and rubbing your hair out of your face. It was clinging to your forehead with sweat, and he took a quick guess of your temperature. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning down to wake you up gently. “Do you have a thermometer?”

You opened your eyes slowly and smiled when you saw his angelic face hovering above you. “Yeah,” you answered. “It’s in the kitchen, top drawer by the sink.”

“Okay,” he answered with a smile, giving you a soft forehead kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Olli?” you asked before he left the room. He stopped to turn around and greet you. “Can you make me some tea while you’re in there?” You then gave him instructions on how to make what you called your “sick tea”: steeped chamomile, warmed orange juice, honey, and cinnamon on top. He nodded with understanding and left the room.

You put your head back down to rest more as you could hear the sounds of him rambling around in the kitchen. It was a relief to know that he could come over on such a short notice to help you feel better. Olli was the perfect boyfriend, and dare you even say that he would make a great husband? But that thought was far off, and you would revisit the idea again in a couple years.

Olli returned a few minutes later, mug in one hand and thermometer in the other. He placed them down on the nightstand and helped you pull yourself up. “Temperature first, then you can have your tea,” he guided, pulling off the cap and bringing it to your mouth. He held your cheek as the numbers on the thermometer continued to climb and then finally come to a stop at 37.6 degrees Celsius. “Wait right here,” he requested as he walked towards your bathroom.

The water ran for a few seconds and then he returned, wet wash rag in his hand with water dripping down his arm. He sat back down beside you, holding the mug so you could take a sip before he dabbed away some of the sweat on your forehead with the rag. It was cool, but on your skin it felt like ice. You hissed with the change in temperature and Olli pulled back quickly.

“Too much?” he asked sympathetically.

You shook your head. “It’s fine, keep going.”

He continued to dab the cloth on your skin, looking lovingly into your eyes while he did it. A small smile crossed his lips, just enough to show his teeth and the gap that you adore. He pulled back once more so you could have a sip of tea before it got too cold. “Want more?” he asked, holding up the cloth again.

You shook your head no. “Later… tea?” He obliged to your request and held up the mug for as long as you wanted to sip. Olli was a patient man, but seeing him here now, doing everything he could to make you more comfortable, reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. You wanted to cry, but it was also because your eyes felt like they were on fire.

“Lay back down,” he begged, helping you slide into a more comfortable position. “You look tired.”

You nodded. “Exhausted. I couldn’t breathe without being in pain last night and I only slept three hours. I was awake for no good reason.”

Olli slid onto the bed beside you, fingers still running through your hair. The motion and feeling on your scalp almost put you back to sleep on the spot. “I’m sorry, kulta,” he muttered quietly. “Do you have anything to help you sleep?”

You nodded. “Some NyQuil. But for now, can I have more tea?” The tea was almost cold, but you finished the last of it soon. It tasted better than if you had made it yourself, but maybe it was because Olli made it with love. 

He put the mug away and slid up to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly. The nerves under your skin made your entire body ache, but being in Olli’s arms brought the pain to a temporary halt. 

“Do you want to fall asleep soon?” he asked, his breath flowing through your hair.

“But I don’t want you to be bored when I made you come all the way over here.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I brought my laptop with me. Besides, you’ll need me when you’re not asleep, but you need to rest.”

Reluctantly, like an irritated toddler, you finally closed your eyes and laid your head beside his chest. His heartbeat was firm, calm, and music to your ears. Soon, you drifted into a comfortable sleep, all but your mind finally finding rest. You felt Olli leave your side but you were too tired to protest.

He leaned down once more and gave you a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be in the living room, call me if you need me.”

Endnotes:

Literally based on a true story from last month.

I learned the “sick tea” recipe from when I was working in a coffee shop, so feel free to steal it next time you get sick because it works wonders. (If you don’t like chamomile or have any on hand, spicy chai works just as well.)

[buckthegrump]

I’ve Been Trying Hard Not To Talk To You - 3

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Warnings: Angst (kind of), it’s an enemies to loves, there’s not fluff in this part

Word Count: 1480

A/n: i love a good car ride scene

Y/n didn’t know how to make it any more clear that she did not want to go on this company team building beach trip. Jill smiled at her earning herself a glare. They were all gathered int the parking lot at 8:30 in the morning because this was a weekend-long thing. Y/n loved both Maria and Phil, but part of her wondered how hard it would be to find another job at a different company that didn’t do weekend-long team-building things.

Everyone was trying to figure out who was driving and who was going in which car. Typically, Y/n would offer to drive, but Carol’s stupid car was taking much longer than it should. Why did she have to be such a good aunt? This would be so much easier if Carol didn’t have Monica to hold over Y/n’s head.

“Hey, boss,” Peter beamed. “You excited for the trip?”

She was forcing herself to be at least civil to him, but goddamn did he have so much fucking energy for this early in the morning.

“You could say that,” she answered. He held out a Starbucks cup. “I can’t drink coffee.”

“It’s a chai latte,” he says. “You don’t drink coffee because of anxiety, right?”

She held back tears (she had the tendency to be a bit dramatic in the mornings). “Peter, someday you are going to make someone very happy.”

He blushed and looked at the ground but didn’t walk away.

“Bucky, can you take Y/n and Peter?” Maria’s voice cut through the fog in Y/n’s brain. “They’re the only ones that still need a ride.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Y/n whispered to herself.

“Sure,” Bucky shrugged as if he didn’t hate her. As if they didn’t spend up to eight hours a day getting on each other’s nerves.

Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but then everyone started putting their bags in trunks. She barely registered when Peter offered to take her bag to Bucky’s car. She told him that she could take her own luggage, but Bucky swooped in and grabbed the handles before she could.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Y/n couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not as Bucky led them to the car.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road.

Peter had oh so graciously, let Y/n have shot-gun while he was seated in the back. Bucky, who drove a stick (because of course, he did) set up the music.

Bucky Barnes, who was already devastatingly handsome (in an unfortunate sort of way that made her want to fling herself off a cliff), didn’t need to be any hotter. And that’s where Y/n’s problem was. She had always thought that a man driving was unreasonably hot, especially if they were mostly calm as they drove. 

With any luck, Bucky would have major road rage, and she could switch with someone for the drive home.

The beach was about an hour’s drive. Y/n wondered how hard it would be to fall asleep, but she didn’t know if she could trust Bucky not to find a way to draw on her face or something. Maybe she should have let Peter sit in the front.

Ten minutes into the drive, Bucky dug out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Y/n.

“Can you -” he started.

Without thinking about it, she took it. “Sure. Why is Stark Industries calling you?”

“Ignore it,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Ya know, if you roll your eyes too much, they’ll get stuck in the back of your head. And that would end up being very boring for you because there’s nothing back there.” Y/n rejected the call. A few seconds later, it started buzzing again. Only this time, the contact read Tony Stark. “Barnes, wh-wh-wh-”

“Is your brain not connected to your mouth right now? What’s going on?” Bucky chuckled.

“Why is the Tony Stark calling you? Why do you have Tony Stark’s number saved in your phone?”

“You know Tony Stark?” Peter spoke in awe.

Bucky ignored all their questions. “Will you answer it and tell him that I’m driving and can’t really talk right now?”

Y/n barked out a laugh. “I’m not answering the phone for the biggest tech genius in America. Do it yourself if you’re such good friends with him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, again, not heeding Y/n’s warning. He grabbed the phone and answered. “Tony, I can’t really talk right now. . . Because I’m driving. . . I did. Monday morning. . . Bruce said it was fine -”

“Bruce Banner?” Peter asked in a hushed whisper.

“Tony. . . I told you I was busy this weekend. . . Yes, I can come to dinner on Thursday. . . I don’t know why you ask the answer is always no.”

Y/n strained her ears, trying to hear the second half of the conversation. Now she wished she had answered the phone.

Bucky lowered his voice a little. “No, I’m not going to do that. That’s one of the dumbest ideas you’ve ever had. I will see you Thursday.”

Bucky hung up the phone and put it in the cupholder between him and Y/n. The silence lasted all of three seconds before Peter started up again.

“So how well do you know Mr. Stark?” He asked.

“Considering that he just agreed to go to dinner with him on Thursday,” Y/n piped up, “I’d say they were in love.”

“That’s not what -” Bucky sighed. “I know him pretty well, kid. Why?”

“I applied for his internship, but I never got a call back.”

Y/n turned around in her seat and looked at him. “Peter, do you not like working here?” She shot Bucky a quick glare.

“No, it’s not that. I just - I’m more of a science person, and I just took whatever job I could get. This one paid the best, but I was really hoping that I would be able to work in the field that I actually want to go in.”

Y/n turned back around. “Told ya, you should be nicer,” she grumbled.

Bucky didn’t justify that with a response. The rest of the ride happened in silence, but Y/n really wanted to know what had happened Monday morning. Clearly, Bucky had some kind of appointment, which explained why he was so calm when he’d walked in late. She should leave it alone. He was allowed to have his secrets just as she was allowed to have hers.

* * *

Y/n had scolded herself about thirty times in the past twenty minutes. She couldn’t stop watching Bucky drive, because yes, he was very calm as he drove. It was really attractive, and his right hand would rest on the gear shift, and -

Get it together, Y/n. She scolded herself again. If she wouldn’t get car sick, she’d pull out one of the books she’d brought along for the weekend. She was trying to fall into one of her extensive daydreams when an all too familiar tune came out from the car speakers.

Saw your body language, and I know how you feeling. You look like the kind of girl who’s tired of speaking.

She bit back the laugh that was begging to be released. Glancing at the radio, she doubled checked that this was, in fact, his playlist and not the actual radio. She was struggling with whether she should say something or let it slide. Letting it slide was winning because she didn’t want to get kicked out of the car, but god bless Peter Parker.

“You like One Direction?” He asked a little too gleefully.

Y/n waited for Bucky to quickly change the song and grumble about it being on there because of his sister or an ex-girlfriend. But he didn’t.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy some of their songs,” he said simply.

Bucky said it so casually as if that wasn’t a surefire way to set her off. He needed to do something dickish so she could go right back to hating him. Hating him was as easy as breathing. It came naturally. This entire car ride was confusing the fuck out of her, and she didn’t particularly like it.

“Really?” Peter, who was sounding more and more like an excited puppy, asked.

“Yeah, my sister made me listen to them once, and I guess I just didn’t stop.”

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek.

“What?” Bucky asked. It took her a second for her to realize he was talking to her. “Are you gonna sit there and pretend that you don’t like them?”

“No, I just didn’t think that you would admit to liking one direction is all.”

“Well, sunflower, I guess there are still a few things you don’t know about me.”

[respect-the-fae]

Samhain traditions

This was ages ago but I made a mental note to do it and just remembered! I think @soggy-moss-queen requested (? I think it was you? I hope so otherwise this is weird 😂) knowing my family's samhain traditions, and I figured a few others would wanna know them too.

(Note: this is how my family do things, this isn't what everyone does and it might not work for some people!)

I'll split this into my family as a whole, me and my siblings, and me with my witch friends, for variety.

With my family:

Sometimes we don't have time to do things big. We're all busy, but usually there's a meal we all like (a family favourite, like a huge pasta bake, or my dad's spaghetti bolognese, or my noodle soup). We sit together, with the wood burner lit, eat the meal and enjoy each other's company. My house isn't the quietest, and we all argue alot. My brother especially causes alot of issues. On Samhain, it's quiet and peaceful, and that in itself is a blessing.

My mum gets a bottle of mead. It changes everytime, we want to try all of them. We have a small glass each. Smaller ones for my brothers, obviously.

Sometimes if schedules match up, I'll do a tarot reading for my mum. She likes having a reading done. Samhain is Wiccan New Year after all, she likes to have an idea of what the new year will be like.

They all carve pumpkins, as is typical for Halloween, but the smell of them makes me throw up so I stay away from that one.

We write a memory about someone we have lost. I write about my aunt Nat. A memory we cherish, and then we put the pieces of paper into the fire. I think my mum read somewhere that the smoke would carry into the afterlife and that person would know you were thinking of them and that fond memory. I'm not sure, but I love it anyway.

With my siblings:

I get my younger siblings small gifts on Samhain. That's not common, I don't think, but I've always loved watching them open their gifts by the fire and watching them smile as they find what I got them. Usually it's something that cost less than £30, last year I got my younger brother a skateboard and my oldest brother got some candles and incense for his altar.

We have a movie night. They're too old to go Trick Or Treating, so we buy loads of snacks and watch movies. Usually Scooby Doo and the Goblin King, followed by Hocus Pocus, then St Trinians, and then when my youngest brother goes to bed, my oldest brother and I watch horror movies. Usually The Nun, Paranormal Activity and Friday the 13th.

I call my older sister. She isn't pagan and isn't around alot, she's hella busy, but we call and catch up, and we wish each other a good night.

If my parents are busy on that night, which they often are (they have super busy jobs, and sometimes they miss Samhain and it sucks for all of us), I order takeout. Usually we end up going to 3 different places because we all have different tastes. It costs so much omg.

Before we go to sleep, we light a candle and say a prayer to our respective gods. We wish them well and thank them for everything they have done this year, and ask them to guide us next year.

Then we have a cup of tea, usually chai or chamomile, and sleep late the next day.

With my friends:

I have 3 witchy friends, and 2 of them live in the US so it's a little hard to celebrate with them, but we always wish each other a good Samhain and exchange ideas of what offerings to give. We always facetime too, and sometimes one of them sends me Samhain gifts. I always get a little awkward about that because I know how expensive shipping is aha.

The witchy friend I have in my country is a baby witch. I usually get them a small gift, and we spend part of the day together. We wander and get silly themed items, share drinks (not pumpkin ones though, because EW), and get lunch out. We bicker over who pays (I always win and pay, its tradition ahaha), and have a good time really. Sometimes they ask if I'll do a small prayer with them in the woods.

That's about it I think. I hope this helped you all!!!!!

[rosy-cheekx]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, The Lonely Fear Domain (The Magnus Archives), Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Martin Blackwood Feels Lonely, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fill Summary:

"Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too."

Martin can't remember the last time he drank tea. It's unsettling, the habits he picked up and habits he lost while overwhelmed by The Lonely.

Chapter Two is here! Thanks again to @ombreblossom for the prompt suggestion: “please don’t shut me out” and “we can talk through the door.”

Enjoy! (posted below too)

Jon didn’t know what to do. He was worried about Martin, had been for a while, after they had—for lack of a better word—evacuated to Daisy’s unoccupied safehouse. Jon knew Martin needed time, but it was still so strange to see a shell of the man he knew instead of the man he loves.

No, that’s not right. He loves this Martin too, there’s no doubt there. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, doesn’t think he can put a modifier on that word. Love. “Loved” implies he doesn’t anymore, which he does. “Loves” implies present tense, which is technically true but still doesn’t sit right. It feels like it invalidates all the past versions of Martin, the ones who have waned into this one. Maybe it’s the monster in him, the eldritch being that exists out of time, that Knows and Sees everything at the same time, all the time, forever. But to say he love Martin sounds silly. There must be a better word.

He knows he has love for Martin (better?) when he finds him, quaking or shivering behind a door or in the shower or frozen under the covers. In those moments all he feels is a desperate desire to make things better, to ride out the storm alongside Martin and wish away anything plaguing him. He can’t, but tea and the biggest duvet in the house is close enough. It’ll do for now.

He can feel his love for Martin when Martin reaches out for him, clinging to his hand like a lifeline. Its rare. He’s gotten less tactile since before, well, everything. Martin was always the one to pat your shoulder comfortingly or pull you into a hug when your vision blurs from tears. Apparently people felt so warm to him, as he had told Jon in a calm moment, after he had flinched the first time. Searing hot. Something to do with the relationships they have with others heats them, like embers in their bellies. It was a debilitating reminder that Martin had given up so much, and a curse bent on keeping those relationships at arm’s reach. Literally.

“You’re not too bad,” Martin had said, a ghost of a smile reminding him of the man he knew. “T-that’s probably not good for you, all things considered. But we’ve both lost our connections, haven’t we?”

“Mmm. Everyone but you, I think.”

-

Jon has been too afraid to leave Martin alone. They’ve gone on a few walks together but overall neither of them has left the house. Jon’s afraid to be around people, to hear the whisper of a statement and be unable to resist the pull to Ask, to Know, to Beg for the knowledge if that’s what it takes.

The time has come, though, the day Jon dreaded. They needed to go shopping.

Jon reminded Martin over and over that he didn’t need to come, that he could stay and rest or write poetry or just take a break. But Martin was determined, it seemed, to fight his battles as much as Jon was. Maybe it would be easier to resist with Martin alongside him, his anchor to humanity.

The grocery wasn’t too busy, all things considered, but compared to the ambient silence of the house and the car, the noise was deafening. Jon felt a bit like an AI unit, using his all-powerful powers to figure out where the tinned soups, bread, and tea were stocked.

God that tea. He hadn’t meant to upset Martin, it was just that he knew how vehemently Martin despised oolong. Jon had tried to make it for him a while back at Sasha’s behest; only to return, tail tucked, with a full mug of tea in newly shaky hands. Jon had thought it was because Martin had finally snapped, lost his cool on his new boss. But Martin had stuck his head in the door, mumbling something quick about oolong and his mum and how he hated it now and he was sorry. Jon had forgiven him. He knew what it was like to be caught off guard by something from your past, whatever it was. But now he was here, staring at the spot Martin had been, shivering as a low fog pooled at his feet briefly before dissipating into the air. His connection with the Lonely was wearing off, sure, but it clearly wasn’t completely severed.

Jon vacillated for a moment. Should he stay here? Hope Martin reappears in the same spot he left? He knew that wasn’t how it worked. Martin had told him about the parallel world in which he could walk, this world but lonelier, softer, more distant. The safehouse would still exist in Martin’s world. It was probably the only place Martin could feel secure in. He couldn’t Know where Martin was going; even if he hadn’t promised he didn’t think it would work if he tried. Martin was avoiding being known and seen. He needed space, as much as Jon could give him, until he was ready to come back.

Jon paid for the groceries, grateful the teen at the till barely seemed to acknowledge his existence. No statement to give; mother on her deathbed; irrelevant, unhelpful child; girlfriend cheating with—Stop it.

Fumbling with bags of bread, fruit, tea, rice, pasta, veg, soup, anything that seemed healthy and easy enough to make between the two of them, Jon loaded everything into the car, backseat precariously filled. He drove home (how quick it was, to admit the safehouse felt more like home than anywhere Jon had lived for a while) in silence somehow more deafening than the scratchy Georgia Ann Muldrow playing from the speakers and the bustle of the tiny Scottish village. It was slow-going, half-hoping he’d spot Martin on the drive and half-dreading the idea of getting home and him not being there, willing himself to put that off as long as possible.

Jon did arrive home eventually, however, to a pant leg and shoe slipping through the front door. Martin. He wasn’t sure if the recognition was the Eye or just Jon, but either entity was certain enough in their knowledge.

Making a point to put the car in park, Jon shouted for Martin, diving out of the car as soon as he could and rushed into the house. He couldn’t tell where man he carried such love for had gone; the Eye beckoned, teased him with Knowing. Just this once. To help him. He pushed the thoughts aside and began to systematically check the usual places. The space behind the front door, next to the couch, the bedroom. As Jon closed the door to the apparently empty bedroom he heard shuffling coming from the bathroom and the unfortunately familiar sound of Martin’s suppressed crying.

Jon approached the door with the coiled tension of one approaching an injured wild animal, pressing his ear to the door. “M-Martin? It’s-it’s Jon,” Stupid, obviously. “Are you alright? I mean-I assume not. But—hmm. what can I do?”

“Leave me alone, Jon.” Martin’s voice was muffled; Jon could practically picture him, elbows resting on the sink, face in his hands. “I-I can deal with this myself.”

“I know you can, of course you can, Martin.” Jon ran a hand through his tangled curly hair, tugging on an errant curl as he spoke. “But-just, don’t shut me out. You don’t need to do this alone. You have people who—you have me. I care.” Sigh. “I-It’s the Lonely, Martin, it’s trying to trick you.”

“Its stupid. I-I don’t think I can say it to your face.”

“Then don’t. I can hear you. We can talk through the door. I certainly don’t have anywhere to go.”

Martin was quiet for a while. “It was that stupid tea, of all things.” His voice was slow, shaky; Jon could hear the effort he was taking to keep it controlled. “It made me realize how not me I was, am, whatever.” Jon didn’t speak, didn’t want to break Martin’s focus. “I haven’t drunk tea since Peter. That sounds so-so stupid to be the thing to lose my cool over but it’s more than that. I lost so much of myself, Jon, while you were gone, after my mum, after Peter-fucking-Lukas.”

Oh shit.

“It’s not just that obviously, it’s the loneliness and the touch and the anxiety I feel all the time. I changed so much, Jon, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late and then I didn’t have a choice. I haven’t felt human in so long and I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Martin?”

“I’m cold all the time, Jon, I used to be the warm one! I used to be the one Sasha and Tim and you would cuddle next to during movie nights in the Archives because it was freezing down there and now I can’t get warm.” Martin’s voice was escalating in tone and volume, a fever-pitch of anger and sorrow. “I just want to feel normal again! I don’t want to be lonely anymore, I want to be human!”

“Martin!” Jon had stepped back from the door, watching a faint haze seep out from under the door, thick and white, rising in front of the door. “Martin, what’s happening in there?”

“Wh—Oh!” Jon hear the click and squeak of the door opening, and the fog billowed out tenfold. He could just make out a silhouette of Martin, seemingly more solid than any way he had seemed in a while. Jon stuck out his hand, thin and tight and scarred, and felt another hand, thick and large and warm, grasp his. “Jon, w-what’s happening?”

“I-I’m not sure Martin, I can See, if you like.” He pressed his other hand to Martin’s face, treasuring how warm and soft he felt. “But I think-I think you healed yourself. Not wanting to be lonely, anymore, maybe?” Jon saw the warm, soft, exhausted smile on Martin’s face and was dimly pleased to feel it mimicked on his own.

I love you, he wanted to say. I think I have always loved you and will always love you. But there was time for that, Jon knew. There was time for sleepy love confessions and understanding exactly the right word to define how he felt for the man in front of him. Some things just need time.

(They remembered the groceries about an hour later, when Martin mentioned making a cup of herbal tea.)

[ladypaulsvn]

Mine, Yours, Ours

Billie x Reader x Cordelia

Word Count: 1,529

Part 1 / ?

Prompt: On one side you have Cordelia, your supreme that continues sending mixed signals about her affections for you, on the other side you have Billie, the famous medium you just met that seems awfully interested in keeping you company.

Summary: After Cordelia pushes you away yet again, you head downtown for tea where you meet Billie Dean Howard. You end up getting her number, and have a late night chat after a rough encounter with Cordelia when you get home late.

a/n: i got this prompt from someone here on tumblr. i’m gonna try & find it so i can give proper credit!

it’s from: @lourdsbitch i hope you don’t mind 😅 i really like your interpretation of the prompt and was hella inspired by it.

read their story here:

also, this is my first proper story i’m posting here so i apologize if it’s a bit rough! i’m still learning how this whole formatting thing works

You frowned as you exited Cordelia's office. She had yet again shooed you away. For anyone else, this would be expected, she was the supreme after all, and no matter how kind she was, she had her bad days. But she was your girlfriend for god's sake! She used to never treat you this way. Why was she acting like this? She had been blowing you off and acting cold for weeks now. Only responding in harsh tones and quick snaps. You began to wonder what you did wrong.

As you slowly descended the stairs, you decided you needed to cheer yourself up. You didn't need Cordelia. You sprinted back up the stairs and into your room, grabbing your purse, keys, phone, and wallet before sprinting back down and out of the academy to your car.

As you start the engine you pause and go to text Cordelia that you would be going out and would be back later, but stop yourself. She didn't seem to care what you were doing anyway, she was obviously too busy for you. Why should you let her know where you're going when you knew she wouldn’t even respond with anything besides a dry "K". So you pull out of the driveway, and head to your favorite coffee shop, where you ironically always order tea.

The bell rings above the door as you enter the shop, your favorite barista waving you over with a smile. It was a small shop, no more than 5 people were ever there at one time, so there was no line to wait in. "Y/N! Nice to see you again. Haven’t seen you in awhile and thought maybe we'd lost our favorite customer." the barista dramatically frowned and you laughed softly "No worries, just been busy. The usual please?" you hand him your card "Of course, 5 minutes top," you smile as he hands you back your card and you twirl around to go to your usual table that sat right by the window.

As you reach your table you stop dead in your tracks. There in your seat sat Billie Dean Howard, the famous medium. You had no idea she was even in New Orleans! "A little star-struck there sweetheart?" Her honey coated voice rang in your ears, pulling you from your trance. "I- uh, my tab- I usually sit here, I just, wow you're amazing." You ramble as she chuckles at your awkwardness and gestures you to sit. "My apologies for stealing your spot, I see you're a favorite around here, huh?" You expect her to get up and leave but she stays as you clumsily take a seat in front of her.

"I um, you can say that, yeah" You say, not wanting to sound conceited. "Your Chai tea," the barista sets your steaming tea down in front of you, "She is most definitely a favorite in these parts," he winks at Billie and walks away, leaving your cheeks tinted a bright shade of pink. "You're certainly modest," she takes a sip of her drink.

"You have fine taste." she says pointing to your tea and then to her own. "Personally I enjoy a little bit of whipped cream on my Chai." she winks at you and your cheeks burn even brighter. You clear your throat, speechless, not knowing what to say.

"Cat got your tongue?" she smirks, "Call me when you find it." she hands you a slip of paper as she gets up, giving your hand a soft squeeze. You hear the bells chime above the door as she leaves and you gawk at the paper in front of you.

She had written her phone number down, and gave it to you. You had Billie Dean Howard's number. You couldn't stop yourself from squealing as you entered the digits into your phone and saved her as a contact, planning to call her later that night.

***

When you got back to the academy, it was a bit late. You had stayed out the entire day, day dreaming about Billie and going round to different shops. You even spent a few hours at the library. You had actually forgotten about Cordelia momentarily. It was dark out now, so you quietly opened the front door, shutting it as softly as you could behind you.

When you entered, you immediately noticed a chair sat next to the door with a sleeping Cordelia curled inside. You cursed under your breath before tip toeing to the stair case, freezing when you heard "Y/N." in a cold yet sleepy voice behind you.

You turned around slowly and faced Cordelia, who did not look happy. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What the hell were you thinking y/n? I didn't get a single text from you about your whereabouts!" oh yeah, she definitely was not happy. You scoffed, "I didn't get a single text from you either Cordelia. I'm fine, you shouldn't have waited up for me. I'm an adult and can do as I please." you had guts, and the time, tonight. You had been frustrated with Cordelia for weeks now and you were tired of mindlessly obeying.

She looked at you with wide eyes, not expecting the outburst or venomous tone of your voice. She was standing at this point, a good distance away from you. You could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "Get up the stairs and to your room immediately, we will discuss this tomorrow." She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I was going there anyway." You spat and stomped up the stairs, making sure to slam your door as hard as you could.

You secretly hoped that Cordelia would come knocking on your door, begging you to unlock it and let her inside, but you knew that wasn't going to happen. You changed into your pajamas and crawled into your bed, remembering that you were going to call Billie tonight. You looked at the time, 9:47 pm. Was it too late to call now? You chewed on your bottom lip as you pulled up her contact, opting to send a quick message first.

y/n: hi Billie! it's y/n, i was wondering if i could give you a call tonight?

You hesitated, but hit send. You stared at the screen, hoping Billie would instantly reply, but she was a busy woman. She had her own tv show for christ's sake, how could you be so selfish to expect her to drop everyth-

Your phone was ringing.

Your eyes went wide at the screen as you realized that it was indeed Billie calling you. You immediately pressed accept and pressed the phone up to your ear. "Found your tongue?" her voice was pure music to your ears. You giggled softly, "Yeah, I did. It was amazing meeting you today." You were glad she wasn't standing right in front of you, your cheeks were flushed a bright pink, yet again. "I would say the same to you, sweetheart." She was effortlessly charming and every time that nickname slipped through her lips, your heart fluttered a bit too much and your stomach filled with butterflies.

"I didn't expect you to reply, nor call me. Especially so quickly because I know you're a busy woman and I respect that. I meant to call earlier but I got busy and when I got home something hap- I just, am so happy to hear your voice." You wanted to smack yourself in the head, until your heard Billie's wonderful velvety laugh on the other side of the phone.

"You like my voice hm?" She teased. "Why wouldn't I call you back? You're a beautiful young woman whom I intend to keep calling." You chokes at her words. Did she really just call you beautiful? "I- thank you but you're far more beautiful." The words slipped out before you could stop them and she gasped. "Now that is a lie y/n." her voice was dark and lovely. "I never want to hear another self deprecating sentence come out of that pretty little mouth again." You were silent. God she really knew what you were missing, huh? Someone to show their interest. Why couldn't your girlfriend do the same?

"Yes ma'am." You were raised in the south, Louisiana of all places, so it wasn't strange to you to refer to people in that manner. "Am I really getting that old?" She chuckled and you stammered "Oh, no! No I just i'm from the south, obviously, Louisiana, and I was just raised to speak that wa-" Billie cut you off.

"I was joking, honey. I appreciate the respect." you sighed in relief. "How about you tell me about the rest of your day I missed out on, hm?" You were shocked, did she really want to know the mundane details of your life? She couldn't possibly. "Really?" It came out as a squeak. "Of course, really. Tell me all about it sweetheart." You smiled brightly as you began to tell Billie about the rest of your day, conveniently leaving out the part where you got yelled at by Cordelia.

[starkatana]

I Want You (Part 2)

~Part 1~

Summary:

Your mom stops by to visit and makes a deal.

Angst

Dabi x Reader

Note:

I was in the mood to write something angsty, so using this prompt list by @gvgvdans . I tried my best to incorporate most of them into the story.

Also I listened to a lot of Alison Wonderland when writing this!

I Want U – Alison Wonderland

Hope you enjoy it!

The next day, you arrive at the coffee shop at the time your mom agreed on. Going inside, you see that your mom is talking to someone at the table.

“Hi, mom.”

“Honey! Good, you're here! This is Greg." She gestures to him across the table. "Greg, this is my daughter that I've been telling you all about!”

“Hi, I've heard so much about you.” he gets up and extends a hand to you.

“Hello.” You shake it a bit confused.

“Your mom showed me your pictures, but they don't do you justice.”

“Uhm?”

“Please sit what would you like to drink? It's on me.”

“Uh?” Your eyes shift between him and your mom. “Just surprise me.”

“You sure?”

“I trust you.” You give him your best charming smile. He walked away, and you faced your mom with a fury in your eyes. “Mom.”

“Isn't he cute?”

“What the fuck?”

“Dear. You can't be single forever; you have to start dating.”

“Mom.” you grab the bridge of your nose. You never told her because you and your parents have never been on the best of terms that you didn’t even see the need to tell them anything. “I was dating someone, but we broke up last night.”

“Oh, well, isn't this just awkward.” She didn’t sound surprised. “Nothing like a rebound to bring you back!”

And she didn't look surprised, and that made you uneasy. “You didn't want to get coffee with me.”

“That's not true.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Two birds with one stone I wanted you to meet him he's one of your step dad's coworker's son, and I thought it'd be cute to set you two up. He's nice, is fabulously wealthy, comes from a well-respected family, and has a quirk that lets him manipulate DNA of viruses and with your healing quirk you could have babies with the ultimate healing quirk.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Please do this for me dear I'm not getting any younger I just want to see you happy in a successful relationship, just trust me on this one.” She goes to reach for your hand, and you quickly get up from the table when he comes back with your drink.

“I got you a dirty chai if that's okay?”

“Thank you,” you begin, “but-”

Your mom kicks you from under the table and gives you a stern look.

You shoot her a glare from across the table, and when you look back at him, you try to be kind because it wasn’t his fault your mom was a nightmare.

“Greg, I’m sorry, but I’m not really looking for a relationship, my boyfriend and I just broke up yesterday, and I’m not just looking to date right now.”

“Y/n!” your mom, whines.

You give her a disgusted look.

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that.” He says, obviously uncomfortable, “I’ll just see myself out.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

He nods and waves good-bye before leaving.

“Y/n!”

You sit back down and lean across the table and in a menacing whisper say, “Never pull that shit again.” You sit back and continue in a normal voice and tone. “It's rude and annoying. You have no right to set me up on a blind date without my permission.” You tap the cup in your hand. “I'm pissed, and this is why we don’t talk.”

“Honey.” Your mom rolls her eyes. “You need to stop working so much, settle down, have some kids, etc. etc.”

“Yeah cause that worked so well for you the first time.”

“Y/n!”

“What? It's true you and dad divorced and remarried because you both wanted to ‘settle down,’ but being heroes got in the way of you ‘settling down.’”

“That's where we're different. You don't want to be a hero. You're doing it right. Just go on one date with him.”

“No! Dammit, mom. Are you even listening? My boyfriend and I broke up yesterday! The last thing I want to do is start dating again!”

“What you think Dabi could love you? A fucking criminal, y/n?” she spat. Her eyes got wide, realizing her mistake, and she covered her mouth.

There is no way she would or should know about Dabi. How did she?

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” She had nothing left to say as she tried to gather her things up.

You get up and block her from getting up. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Are you the reason why we broke up last night?”

She paused and then smiled, “Honey no but did you really think you would be happy living a life like that forever? I mean c'mon?” she gestured to you, “you’re young and beautiful, your quirk is amazing, anyone would be lucky to have you, and he couldn’t see that. He can’t love you.”

“Stop it. Just stop. I'm Sick and tired of listening to you: I'm going home and please don't contact me. Stay out of my life.”

“Where do you think you're going?”

“To find Dabi and to make things right.”

“He's a villain y/n you're lucky he hasn't been caught think about my job your families' job.”

“What if he's not? What if he's just a puppet and I'm the one pulling all the strings.”

Her eyes grew wide and was taken back.

“Tch. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.” You shrug, and you left the cafe. Your mom was a pro hero she could get into so much trouble for that, but it wasn't true, and you needed to fix things with Dabi before it was too late.

You found yourself on a bridge where you could see the city lights. Standing next to the side, you'd recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“I knew I'd find you up here.”

“Y/n?”

He looks up and over at you cigarette still hanging from his mouth. You couldn't see his face but the fact that he acknowledged you and turned towards you it felt like it was enough.

“You shouldn't be here. You should go.” He said looking back over the edge

“No Dabi I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.” You started walking towards him. “I know what happened I know you, and my mom must’ve made a deal, and it's bullshit. She’s manipulative and crazy. She’s had years to make things right between us, and this isn't it. I'm not going to let her ruin my life. Dabi I love you, and I'm not letting you break up with me.”

“Dollface. I was never in love with you. I was just using you."

“Tch.” you roll your eyes. “That's not true. That's not who you are.”

“And who the fuck do you think I am!?” he turns to face you. You can’t see his face, but you can hear his voice. It was shaking, and you could see his breathing was shallow and short. You knew you were right, and you weren’t going to stop.

“I know you're Dabi, the hard-ass villain who has his beliefs and hopes to change this society for the better. I know you like to do puzzles in the paper. You like to bury your nose in a crime book. You like stupid humor movies. I know you wouldn't spend your time on someone you don't think is interesting you wouldn't spend so much time with me if it weren't for my quirk and if it weren't for the fact that you cared deeply for me. I know you Dabi. You changed me for better or for worse I feel something with you something different, and I know you feel it too.” You put your hand on his bare arm where his sleeves were rolled up and the fact he didn't flinch away. “I don't know what you and that witch talked about, but I'm here, and I'm not letting her get in the way of us.”

“I want my life back. ”

“Excuse me?”

“When you're with me I have too much to lose. If I'm with you, it's not just my safety. It's yours. I can't always protect you and don't say you can protect yourself. I already know that, but there are some villains that are just merciless. Truth is y/n I don’t know if I can love you.”

You closed your eyes and felt tears form.

“Then that's it Dabi. If that's how you feel, then say the words again, and I'll leave you alone. I just want to hear you say it and have you mean it. And not read the script that my mother made you say. Tell me you want me gone and out of your life and we're done.”

The silence was tense; you were nervous, but in your heart, you knew you were right. Dabi loved you. There was no way your mom was right. There was no way, and then in a quick sweep, Dabi had you in his arms, and his lips were attached to yours. Warm tears hitting your cheeks he was crying. You kissed his back, pulling him close keeping things light while wishing they could get hot and heavy.

“I hate you, Doll Face.”

You smile and caress his face, “I know, but I love you.”

“I love you too that's why I left you and let your mom-“

“My mom doesn't know jack shit she doesn't run my life I do and Dabi I want you in my life, and I'm not scared of my mom and neither should you big bad Dabi oh god you laugh I can't believe you.”

“Can we start over? ”

You laugh. “No. But we can pick up right where we left off and only get better from here.”

He holds you tighter than ever. You take in his light cigarette mixed with autumn scent. Even if he was a villain, this felt so right.

“Let's go home.”

Flash forward to the present time your mom is outside the apartment door again.

“Get out.”

“Excuse me.”

“I said, ‘get out’ you're not wanted here.”

“We had a deal.”

“Yeah but your daughter isn't as easy as you thought she'd be to control. She's not a little kid anymore she can make her own decisions, and if anyone stands in the way, her happiness is going to have to answer to me. Do you want to have to answer to me?” Dabi cocked en eyebrow at her, as blue flames came off the tips of his fingers. “Bitch.”

She snarled and left your apartment Dabi closed the door.

“You do like me.”

“So? What about it?”

You shrug nothing, and you go back pretending like you're busy with something else. Catching one more glimpse of your boyfriend when he catches you starring you stick out your tongue, and he gets up and forcibly gives you a deep and longing kiss.

“I was wrong-”

“Wait, wait a second, say that again?”

“What?”

“I want to hear you say that again.”

“This is childish-”

“Say it or no sex.”

“I was wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.”

[softspaceboibrian]

Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: mention of a stroke

Wc: 2212

A/N: guys, this chapter is very descriptive. hopefully you won't think it's boring or stuff. don't worry! in the next chapters more is going to happen!!

Previous chapters: 1 - 2 - 4 - 5

Taglist: @tegan-eva (ask if you want to be added)

On the other hand, you were pretty different, thing that Gwilym grew to love more than he expected himself to. At first, he didn’t notice the peculiar shade of your eyes, or the constant rosy colour of your cheeks. Gosh, he could look at those eyes the entire day if he could; you had intelligent eyes, and whenever you laid them on him, he knew you were thinking about something, you were studying him, noticing the smallest detail that even him had never noticed before; like that time when you walked up to him after the lesson finished and started off with a “Did you know you look a lot like Brian May? You know, the guitarist from Queen”. That made him laugh, at first, but when that night he found himself in front of a mirror, he started staring at his traits and noticed that you were right, as always. You had a beautiful mind that was always working on some new, fresh idea, that would surprise everyone. If you remained silent for a little too long, he would always ask you what you were thinking about and you would probably start answering by saying “What if…” or “Have you ever considered…”. And those amazing ideas usually came with a big dream. “I want to travel to Rome, visit Keats’ house and see his headstone, then do an essay on the impact that his poetry, his works and Romanticism in general is having on modern day culture.” You said one day, out of nowhere, while you were re-reading one of his articles; you were alone in his office, as every other afternoon, he was drinking black coffee, no sugar, just a little bit of cream, while you had your usual mug filled with tea. You changed the tea every couple of weeks: at first, you started with black tea, then, when autumn came, you moved to chai tea. But now the office was filled everyday with the soft smell of mint and honey, fresh and warm at the same time. Just like you, he thought. He also found out he loved to make you laugh: you had a loud laughter, the type that fills the room with joy, that contagious laugh that you cannot hear and stay serious. Your voice, on the contrary, well, your voice was soft, warm, so pleasing to listen to that he would often make you read his essays and articles aloud just to hear it. You loved scented candles, that’s for sure. You even bought an orange chocolate scented one for his studio, just because you thought he might like it. But in general, there’s no doubt you are a poet. You were quiet, your steps were gentle, just like a fairy’s ones. You were quiet because you were always thinking, analysing things and finding in them the smallest, most peculiar details that no one else would notice, taking time to organize your thoughts and ideas, but still struggling to find the right words. That’s probably the main reason why he has often walked in on you reading the entire dictionary for the umpteenth time. You had so many beautiful ideas, and you would always talk about them as if they were your children. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to express what I’m thinking, to put it into words on paper, and I don’t won’t to ruin it.” You said to him many times; in fact, it had happened more than once that you could not be productive for days, weeks even, and then suddenly write six poems in an hour. But then, there’s this one thing that he read in one of your poems, one thing that stuck with him. «I wish to be enough, someday.» How could someone like you think that you weren’t enough. You were far more than enough. At least to him.

It was the beginning of December, and the first flakes of snow where starting to shyly cover the gardens and sidewalks, there were no longer leaves on the branches of the trees, it was finally that time of the year when he was able to turn on the fire in his little chimney in the evening. And, in fact, you loved spending the evenings over at his place, sometimes crushing on his couch just to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Or maybe you just enjoyed his company over anyone else’s.

The weeks went by and you got to know each other pretty well during your ‘meetings’ or your coffee breaks. Apparently, he was in fact of Welsh heritage, even though he was born in Bristol. He studied English Literature at Cardiff University and then moved to the USA. But, most importantly, he was the most genuine person you had ever known. You liked to look at him when he was busy working. His hair was long, but not too long, and sometimes little stands of hair would fall in front of his face, distracting him for even just a moment. When he was thinking, he would start doodling on the side of the page or on a spare paper. He collected playbills from theatre shows and museum’s pencils. He always had kind words for everyone. His earbuds were always tangled, and it would take him a good minute to untangle them. He always took artsy picture of everything, his dog, the school library, the first fallen leaves from the tree in front of his office’s window. He loved history, learning intriguing facts about historical figures. He liked to always have an open window, unless it was too cold outside. When he smiled, his eyes would brighten up, the corners of his lips go up, little crinkles show up around his eyes. He was also exactly how one would expect a writer to be: his notebooks a mess, full of notes and doodles, and his desk exactly the same, little reminders scattered all over the wooden surface, an empty pen holder, pens and pencils used as bookmarks. And his head too: he always had so many ideas, he was always thinking of a new article, a new story he could try to write, but that he never actually managed to finish; and you noticed that, sometimes, he would scribble stuff that he needed to remember on his hands and arms. He was definitely a night owl: it had happened many times that she would wake up to a text from him that had been sent at three in the morning. He was so passionate about everything that he liked, like that time, during class, when he was explaining Queen Elizabeth I’s Tilbury Speech, he was basically praising not only Queen Elizabeth herself, but her tutor, Roger Ascham, too. You found it adorable. He knew pretty much everything, except for his own limits. He was the kind of person that would try to make flowers bloom, even during heavy storms. But the things that stuck with you the most was the fact that he always found the good in everything.

“Love” That’s how he had been calling you lately, even around school, not really caring about what people would say. “They are doing Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in a theatre just outside town and they want me to review it” He explained, showing you the email on his phone.

“Well, that’s amazing! When are you going?”

“We are going tonight. The play starts at 7:30, but we have to be there at least half an hour before the beginning of the play, because I have to meet the woman who has to give me the tickets at the reception.”

“Wait…” You stopped him, visibly puzzled “We are going?” You had talked about that many times before, Shakespeare was by far your favourite dramaturg and one of Gwilym’s favourite authors in general. You had often found yourselves debating whether it was Hamlet or Macbeth Shakespeare’s best play, discussing about every detail that made one’s favourite the best one and not the other’s.

“I got two tickets for free and I thought that you might have wanted to come with me. I mean, it’s Twelfth Night. You love it, it’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

You were speechless. You didn’t expect that to happen, not at all. Maybe that was the reason you immediately put your arms around him and reached for his cheek to leave a soft kiss, realising only afterwards that you weren’t at home or somewhere else. You were at University and there he was a professor and you were a student. You couldn’t act like that. So you instantly pulled away, your cheeks turning crimson, but he didn’t really seem to mind it.

“It’s a 45 minutes long drive, so I’ll pick you up at 6:00, so we have a few more minutes in case traffic is a mess. We can have dinner afterwards.” He smiled, his eyes on you, finding that look on your face extremely adorable. “Oh and wear a pretty dress.” He laughed while walking away.

Once you were left alone, you could feel the eyes of numerous girls on you, probably whispering to each other, already making assumption about the two of you. All you did at that point was walk out of the building, almost running towards the bus stop, to escape those curious looks rather than to actually get home early.

It was 5:45 and you were already sitting on the couch, a book in your hands, waiting for the man to send you the text saying that he was waiting for you outside. Wear a pretty dress, he said; and that was what you did. One could rarely see you wearing a dress, or anything a little more daring that a simple jeans and a nice blouse. But that time you decided that you could actually wear something different, maybe one of those dresses that your mother had bought for you years before. It was nothing too special, a simple bodycon dress with blue, burnt orange, mustard and white horizontal stripes. Obviously, not wanting to look too formal, you just paired it with a simple blue cardigan and white converse. Furthermore, you had no one to impress, it was only Gwilym, you professor, and in a way, your boss too. Yes, well, he was still really handsome, charming, and you too often found yourself daydreaming about those ocean blue eyes, that made you feel like you didn’t have to worry about your ponytail being perfect or your laugh being too loud. Whenever you were with him, you felt good, you felt as if that was the place where you were meant to be. And that was not good. You could not feel that way about him.

[from James] Hey love, I’m outside. Whenever you’re ready.

You didn’t even reply. You just put your jacket on and sprinted out, forgetting to say goodbye to Rose, who looked at you wondering whether you were acting like that because you were excited to go see one of your favourite plays or because you were basically going on a date with the man you had been talking about non-stop for the last few months.

You and Rose met the first day you came to Cambridge. She knew a new girl was going to live in the room next the hers, but she didn’t expect you to be, well, like you were. At first, you were reserved, she could barely see you outside of your room, but she could easily understand whether you were home or not, because you would always be playing those old records. One day she even caught you singing a little tune, but as soon as you realised she was watching you, you immediately turned red and shut the door. It took her a while before she could actually get to know you, even just a little bit. At first, it was small talks at dinner, random facts that popped up during movie nights. Then you spent a whole day around town, just the two of you, in which she showed you all the nice cafés and libraries where you could go and study without any problem, the restaurants where you could eat without spending too much, the shopping district, even the pretty places you could go to take pictures or take someone on a date. That day Rose found out some of the most important things about you. You were sitting on a bench in JFK Park and the brunette started talking about all times she had taken her parents there whenever they visited her, the things she used to do with them when they still lived together and how proud they were of her. But your response left her speechless. “My mother died two years ago. Stroke.” Your voice was cold, distant, your eyes on the water in front of you. “And my father is so proud of me that he is paying my tuition so that he doesn’t have to see me around the house anymore.” Rose didn’t know what to say, how to act, so she just stood up and offered you to go and eat ice cream. “I know a place that makes the best mint chocolate chip ice cream in town. It’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

[iamvegorott]

Undercover Love Ch. 32

Divorce?

“Ant’...Ant’.” Robbie sang as he knocked on the door. “An-Chay?” Robbie titled his head when he saw that Chase answered the door.

“Hey, buddy.” Chase greeted, rubbing one of his red eyes.

“Why are you in Ant’s room?” Robbie asked.

“It’s a long story.” Chase sighed.

“Are you and Mar’ divorcing?” Robbie’s blunt question made Chase almost cry again.

“Robbo.” Chase placed his hands on Robbie’s shoulders and bent down a little. “Me and Marvin are fine, there’s just some stress right now and we had a bad night.”

“You’ve had a lot of bad nights.” Robbie said. “It’s scary.”

“I…” Chase honestly wasn’t sure what to say at the moment. “I know, buddy.”

“Do you wan’ a hug?” Robbie asked, holding his arms out.

“I can never say no to a hug.” Chase gave Robbie a forced smiled before hugging him.

“What in the world am I missing in front of my room?” Anit asked with a laugh, wearing one of Dark’s shirts and had Dark standing next to him. “I just wanted to get cleaned up and I got a hug-fest happening.”

“Chay and Mar are divorcing.” Robbie said.

“What!?” Anti’s cheerfulness dropped instantly. “I know you guys have been fighting but-”

“We’re not getting a divorce.” Chase said, straightening back up. “It’s just been...hard lately.”

“We know.” Dark stated, turning his head away and clearing his throat into a fist when Anti just glared at him.

“We’re not the quietest when we fight, are we?” Chase weakly chuckled. “We’re both just worried for everyone and we have opposing views on what to do and we just don’t know-”

“Why not ask everyone?” Dark suggested, getting looks of confusion this time from Chase and Anti. “Hold a vote or an open discussion.” He added to clarify. “Back at the Iplier Headquarters if there was a debate about something between myself and Wilford, we’d hold a meeting to hear out both sides with those who are unbiased and sometimes we even come up with a completely different idea that what was originally brought up.” Anti and Chase just kept staring at him. “I’ll be honest in saying that I have no idea what’s happening at the moment.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Chase said quietly.

“You really do run your family like a business.” Anti mumbled.

“It was the only way I knew how to deal with people besides Wilford.” Dark admitted.

“We’ll address that problem later.” Chase said as he took Robbie’s hand and walked with him away.

“What does that-”

“Go help get breakfast ready.” Anti cut Dark off before popping into his room to change.

“What?” Dark just said again, taking a moment to take in a deep breath and headed off to the kitchen behind Chase and Robbie.

“What do you think it means?” Dark heard Henrik whispering.

“Marvin’s not here but his ring is.” Edward held the piece of metal in his hand.

“His ring?” Chase released Robbie’s hand and went to the doctors. “He’s not here?” Chase took the ring from Edward, eyes going wide.

“Chase…” Jackie had his arms around him, backpack on the ground next to his feet as if he dropped it. “What does that mean?”

“It’s...It’s just-it-it’s.” Chase’s breathing started to stutter and words weren’t coming out clearly anymore.

“Get him some water.” Henrik instructed. “Chase, stay with me.” He added, snapping his fingers in front of Chase’s face. “I’m sure we’re misreading something.”

“I tried so hard this time.” Chase said to himself, staring at the ring. “I didn’t want to lose the person I loved again because of my own stupidity.”

“Marvin wouldn’t just walk out like that.” Henrik stated as he took the cup of water from Edward and offered it to Chase. “We are missing a link and we’ll find it.”

“This morning, Marvin eat, finish, washed hands, go-to store, ring forgot.” JJ sighed, hope in his eyes.

“He’d tell us if he was going to the store.” Jackie said.

“Where are the rest of the Ipliers?” Dark asked.

“We’re in the living room.” Wilford said, peeking into the kitchen, we figured this was something for us to stay out of.” He added as Anti came in through the other door to the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Anti went over to Chase. “Are you...is that…” Anti saw the ring. “Where’s Marvin?” Wilford took Dark by the arm and guided him out of the kitchen, gesturing for Edward to follow and he did after giving Henrik a quick look. “Where’s Marvin?” Anti repeated.

“We don’t know.” Henrik answered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Anti snapped. “I thought we figured out how to prevent this after what happened with me and Chase?”

“Yes, because we can figure out an entirely new system that keeps track of every single person in this house when they decide to be dumbasses and take off on their own instead of talking to the people they claim to be family!” Henrik’s voice got louder and louder as he spoke, eventually screaming right at Anti at the end of it.

“It’s complicated.”

“So you keep saying.” Henrik spat.

“Can we stop fighting for five seconds?” Jackie stepped between the two. “No matter what we think at the moment, we all know Marvin wouldn’t take off without at least leaving a note that said he was going.”

“Chase, Marvin room look?” JJ asked.

“We’ll split up.” Jackie went over to JJ. “You can check their room like you said for any clues and-”

“I’m sorry for interrupting the family feud, but we’ve noticed something in the control room that we believe all of you would like to see.” Google stated, his face showing that he wasn’t happy to be the one who had to get the Septiceyes. “We believe it might have to do with Marvin.” He added and hopped to the side as the group of men left the room at the mention of Marvin.

“Perhaps a taste test will-”

“You are not putting it in your mouth.” Dark said, moving CJ and RJ away from a spot on the floor.

“But it might-”

“I will make you sit on your hands.” Dark warned, sitting the twins down on the couch, only getting pouts in response.

“Go sit with them.” Jackie said to Robbie, who nodded his head and did what he was told.

“What about Marvin?” Chase asked when he got to the other gathered Ipliers. “Is he okay?”

“We don’t know, but this stuff makes us think something bad happened.” Bing touched what looked like purple dust that was on the ground. “We have no clue what the hell it is.”

“None of our sensors can detect anything.” Google added. “It’s not metal nor any type of soft material, it’s not even colored dirt.”

“The only thing we can get is that it’s similar to the feeling of when Marvin uses his magic near us.” Bing sat down on the ground now. “But you guys are green.”

“Has Marvin ever done anything to make purple?” Bim asked.

“Maybe it’s a special kind of spell.” Yandere suggested. “Like maybe emotions are green and materials are...wait, no, that’s not right.”

“Host can feel something...wrong.” Host’s voice made everyone stop and look at him, waiting to see if anything else would follow and that was when Host went stiff. “Similar, but different, same means but different methods. A pitch-black dream that will haunt you for days with static tears flowing down your face and anger in the air.”

“Was that a prophecy?” Henrik asked Edward in a whisper, getting a nod in response.

“That’s vague as hell.” Anti said. “How are we supposed to know what to do with that?”

“The others.” Dark and Chase said together and Anti cursed, turning into a shout when there was loud static that filled the room.

“That’s right!” A voice laughed. “Come and find him before it’s too late, lover-boy!”

“Who are you!?” Chase demanded into the air.

“You’ll find out, sooner rather than later.” The voice giggled before cutting off, leaving everyone in silence.

“That’s it.” Dark went up to the control board. “No more fighting, no more debating, we aren’t just looking for revenge. We are on a hunt.”

Wanna help me and give me some support? |Donate To My PayPal| (All donations will be met with a request that will be done before all others) Requests are CLOSED Commissions are CLOSED Tag List: @wisevoidpastacash @takethepainawaybae@superdltpurplerage@superarrowholockian @always-in-a-fandom@wolfbear135@cutecatwhiskersstuff@blueyeswhitedragon16@allimeraine@hey-wow-thats-me @pixelenchanter@queenbrandon @aviana-felsari@lavenderamy@northicckque @rainymae523@timeless-gris @allthespaceboo@virge-of-death @crystal-fridge @demons-jim@blackkttn13@derpytoez@bartonisamess @fandom-guy@hypercat360@sodabeet @cookieface678@plutonic-5 @wilford-motherluvin-warfstache @thegaysalt@burningpeachdelusionofchaos @mei-li-de-tou-fu@anightmarefan@it-squishy-here @prince-ryker @ninjasversuslife @phanimapala67@doodledaf@acidbab-y @spaceykidd0@shamelesscollectorpiratesstuff@spookyparkster@dploverness@classy-birb@crookedlyaddictedtodark@tmblr-a-binch@sirkawaiipotato @little-frying-pan@quotesnerd@medusadoggo@madallice329@rudenesssarcasmlackingenthusiasm @tessytaartje @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @thetrashspace@thesinginggal@mad-men-inc@sealover89@bobberino98 @steel-and-iron-make-my-heart@succos-tacos @positive-potato @lesbabo 

[storibambino]

If It Ain’t Broke Ch. 2

A/N: Here we are for chapter 2. I went back and changed some things because inspiration changed so I apologize for the delay guys. Please enjoy it! Thank you so much again to @wakanda-inspired for this request. This is 9,528/30,000 for the challenge that apparently I’m still doing. 

Still no beta so all mistakes are mine

Pairings: ErikxNakia OkoyexW’Kabi, T’ChallaxOroro(Storm) featuring our merry band of BP characters

Warnings: None 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - It’s a Secret

“How is it I’ve never heard of any cousin?” Nakia asked over the speaker on her phone.

“None of us had until about this time last year,” Okoye responded. Okoye followed Nakia in her own car on their way to meet the mechanic T’Challa suggested, “None of us ever saw it coming.”

“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Eh, it’s not really my story to tell. It’s the building on the left. You can pull up to the garage,” Okoye stated quickly and hung up.

The shop was a fairly large black building with ‘Golden Jaguar Repairs’ written ornately above the doors. Nakia pulled up to the open garage doors and hopped out to meet Okoye at the door of the lobby area.  Okoye threw the door open and called out to signal their arrival. Quite the feat over the music playing throughout the area. Heavy bass and playful strings were the only response until a man dressed in a black coverall with gold detailing to match the rest of the décor emerged from a side door. He swaggered over to greet them, rag in hand.

“Wassup General,” He nodded to Okoye.

“Stevens,” Okoye responded politely but Nakia noticed a tightness in her tone, “This is Nakia. She is the woman T’Challa called you about.”

Nakia extended her hand but the man didn’t take it.

“No offense ma, but I’m covered in grease and I would hate to dirty up those lovely hands of yours,” he said with a wink.

Nakia pulled back her hand and crossed her arms over her chest, regarding the stranger. Okoye only rolled her eyes.

“The car is why we’re here,” Okoye interjected.

“Yeah, yeah you can follow me to the office Princess to get this paperwork done,” Erik said and gestured for Nakia to follow.

Erik led Nakia to his back office while Okoye stayed in the lobby. The office was decorated much like the rest of the building. There were papers strewn all over a spacious mahogany desk, spilling onto the floor. Two black leather office chairs are the only other furniture in the room. Nakia took a seat in one of the chairs while Erik stood behind the desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a few forms then handed them with a clipboard and pen to Nakia.

“Your filing system is a little unorthodox for someone’s that ex-military,” Nakia while eyeing the forms.

“You got jokes I see. The price just went up,” Erik shot back.

Nakia held up her hands and laughed, “I’m just saying. You might want to invest in a file cabinet.”

“I have several out in the garage and behind the front desk but that’s not your business is it?”

“I guess not,” Nakia went back to read over the papers.

“Who told you I was ex-military?”

“You did. The general joke was kinda obvious,” Nakia smiled to herself but didn’t look up from the documents.

Erik took a step back and looked the attractive woman up and down. He took in her soft features and deep brown skin. Her beautiful hands made quick work of all the signatures needed and her eyes scanned the pages effortlessly.

“All these say is I’m leaving my car with you and a payment agreement. You haven’t even looked at my car.” Nakia said finally looking up from the papers.

“True. I didn’t need to look at it to know you need the works,” Erik sat down next to Nakia and took the paperwork, “I could hear you coming from a mile away, princess.”

“I am no princess.”

“Car like that. You’re someone’s princess that thing is a work of art.” Erik clapped his hands and stood up swiftly, “Let’s go get a look under the hood.

Fifteen minutes later Erik had pulled the car into the garage, looked under the hood, and was currently under it checking oil pans or something else. He moved quickly and with precision, jotting down notes here and there. Nakia and Okoye stood nearby chatting idly about their plans for the rest of the day and trip. Okoye kept one eye on Erik at all times. Which Nakia noticed but kept to herself.

“Ok Ms. Nakia I’m all finished with your assessment,” Erik slid from under the car and stood to face the women.

“What’s the damage, sir?” Nakia responded.

“Don’t call me that. I might like it,” Erik gave her another wink.

Okoye cleared her throat rather loudly.

“All work no play General,” Erik gave Okoye a brilliant smile, all white teeth and a bit of gold, “Back to you. You need brakes, spark plugs, ya transmission flushed and a whole gang of other shit. She’s pretty but her personality needs some work.”

“So it’s scrap metal?”

“I ain’t say all that. All she needs is some love and she’ll be rollin’ smooth. I can get started first thing in the morning,” Erik finished.

“What time?” Nakia asked.

“I usually roll in here bout 7. I don’t have any others to finish myself,” Erik answered.

“Ok, I’ll be here.”

“Excuse me?” Erik and Okoye answered in unison.

“I want to be here while you’re working on my car,” Nakia responded nonchalantly. She looked between the two of them for a moment before Okoye pulled her off to the side asking Erik it excuse them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Okoye pressed.

“I’m getting my car fixed,” Nakia deadpanned.

“I mean with him. Why would you want to spend an entire day here? With Erik.”

“I will not leave my dead father’s car in the care of a stranger without being observant,” Nakia stated. Okoye didn’t budge, “I’m curious. That’s all Ye.”

The nickname wasn’t fair. Nakia only used it when she didn’t want Okoye to ask any questions about her actions. Like when they went on their first joyride or got into their first fight. It was always ‘That’s all Ye’ and she would immediately back off. Okoye studied her for a few more seconds then sighed and walked back over to Erik who wasn’t eavesdropping at all.

“Y’all settled up then?”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Nakia answered. Okoye stayed silent. The two women headed toward the open garage door.

“How you gonna get here?” Erik called out, “I got your car ma.”

“You’re picking me up. I’ll be ready at 6:30. Okoye texted you the address. Don’t be late.”

Nakia didn’t look back to confirm Erik agreed to her terms. However, she didn’t need to in order to know he would be at her door the next morning.

At her door, he was indeed. Well, not technically her door but the door of one of T’Challa’s many properties in which she was staying at the moment. He insisted a luxury condo was better than a hotel and she was not about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him openly.

Erik was inexcusably chipper at 6:30 in the god damn morning. He greeted her with coffee and a chocolate chip muffin.

“I don’t drink coffee,” Nakia said through a yawn although she took the cup.

“I know. That’s mine princess. I got tea for you in the car,” Erik gently slid the cup out of her hands and stepped aside so she could exit the condo. She didn’t quite glare at him but it was damn close. A smug little smile and nod were all he offered her then followed her out and let the door shut behind them. Neither of them worried about locking the door. Shuri installed automated locks and biometrics on all the Udaku properties.

Outside Erik’s truck was waiting. It was exactly what Nakia had expected, black on black with gold details. As she slid into the front passenger seat she noticed the body was reinforced and the glass bulletproof. Maybe not exactly what she was expecting after all. Erik got in and gestured toward the lidded paper cup in the holder closest to her. She took it and sampled the tea he brought for her, lavender chai. It was perfectly (but not too) sweet and complemented the muffin well, of course, none of his business.

“This isn’t from Starbucks,” Nakia stated plainly.

“Nah. That shit is terrible. I got a spot around the way I like,” Erik kept his eyes on the road and Nakia kept hers on him, “I can show if you like.”

“How did you know I like tea opposed to coffee?”

“I’m observant,” He quipped and flashed his too pretty white and gold smile.

Nakia didn’t respond just kept a calculating stare at his profile, enjoying her gifted breakfast.  Erik reached down and turned on the radio. Nakia braced herself against the impending bass but was greeted by horns and keys.

“Jazz?”

“Jazz,” Erik confirmed.

“Jazz?” Nakia repeated.

“I grew up in Harlem for the most part,” Erik shrugged, “So yes, jazz first thing in the morning is good for the soul.”

Nakia made some non-committal noise and sat back in her seat. By this time she had eaten half of the muffin she the other half she sat on the center console. Erik picked it up, taking a large bite and mumbling something about crumbs in his whip. The rest of the ride passed in an easy silence. They arrived quickly at the shop, Nakia memorized the route for future use.

Erik pulled into one of the bays at the far end of the garage. Erik disappeared into the office leaving Nakia to wander around alone. She went to her father’s car, her car now. The last piece of him she had with her in the physical world. She ran her fingers along the hood. Anyone else looking at the car would think the custom paint but Nakia knew better than that. There was the faintest scratch on the hood near the grill.

When she was a little girl her father would take her to sit by the water on Lake Shore. He would lean against the hood while she sat on the car listening to the waves and counting the clouds. On those evenings fights were rare but not completely eliminated. On one warm summer afternoon, she kicked the hood in anger. She had begged her mother for converse with little studs in the toe and she got them for her, one of the last gifts she received from her before she passed. Naturally, Nakia wore them every day. The fight was started small but snowballed when he asked her not to wear the worn shoes anymore. They were old and a proper little lady should have new shoes.

How could he ask, no how could he tell her that she had to throw away all she had of her mother left? Of course, the shoes were not the only part of her mother she had left, but when you’re fourteen your logic isn’t exactly rational. When she kicked the hood of her father’s prized car she meant it. All she did was leave a small scratch and severely bruise her toes, which caused another argument. She touched the scratch again and smiled fondly.

“I can get that out for you,” Erik startled her from her memories.

“No,” She answered a bit too quickly. Erik raised his eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Nakia began to explain herself but stopped. She hadn’t noticed Erik enter the room but now she looked at him and a smile spread across her face, “Those are adorable.”

“Hush,” He scowled at her from behind is gold frames, “I was doing paperwork.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just saying I think the glasses are a good look.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a seat and don’t touch my shit,” Erik had donned a pair of navy coveralls and gestured to a workbench near the vehicle. Nakia took a seat and Erik got to work raising the car on a lift and examining it piece by piece, “You sure you wanna chill here all day?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Nakia glanced around the garage again, “Where are your employees.”

“It’s just me.” The hush was heavily implied.

Hush she did, for a while anyway. She texted Okoye and let her know she was ok and she definitely did not need to come and get her. After asking more and more invasive questions Erik shooed her away into his office. While in there she checked her email. The contact she’d reached out to for files on Erik had gotten back to her.  The files were thin but it was a start. She spent the next two hours or so doing research on the man in the other room.

Erik came and got her right around when she finished her snooping, “Ordered us some lunch. Should be here in a few.”

Nakia followed Erik back out into the garage area. The tires were off her car and various tools were strewn about. She took up her previous seat on the workbench. Erik went back to his work sliding under the car to finish something she couldn’t see. She watched him for a moment analyzing his body language, looking for an opening. Leaning forward she decided on a plan of attack.

“Tell me, Erik. How does someone go from Special Ops, a SEAL no doubt, to a mechanic in Oakland?” Nakia asked from her perch on the workbench near Erik’s feet.

“I came home. After the…incident my pompous cousin offered to welcome me with open arms. Be a part of the family business, Thanksgivings, and all that shit.” Erik rolled out from under the car and looked up to Nakia, “But it didn’t feel right. All this time I thought I wanted revenge or some proverbial piece of the pie. I guess what I really wanted was for them to see me.”

“You wanted a family,” Nakia leaned down to meet Erik’s eyes. They were a little glossy but she didn’t mention it. She wasn’t expecting this level of honesty from the man. She was looking forward to some form of mental chess before getting any kind of emotional realness from him, it was refreshing but it felt far too intimate for what she needed to accomplish.

“Yeah, I guess now I got one. They are a complete pain in my ass but mine all the same,” Erik said before standing up. Nakia leaned back to give him room.

“I’m sure they would say the same about you,” She smiled and eyed him closely as he wiped grease from his hands. Erik didn’t return her smile.

He drew his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side slightly, “So tell me Nakia what’s an active CIA operative doing in my shop?” Nakia’s mouth fell open, “You ain’t the only one with friends.”

Nakia quickly regained her composure, “I’m here because while visiting a friend my car broke down. That same friend was kind enough to suggest you, his cousin, for the repairs.”

“Does your friend, my cousin, know why you’re really here?” Erik was playing a very dangerous game and he knew it.

“Friends in high places I see,” Nakia responded, avoiding a direct answer.

“Low places too. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“That isn’t your business is it?” Nakia dropped her façade for a moment and became serious, “I couldn’t, not yet. Question is: Are you gonna tell him?”

“Nah, like you said it ain’t my business but watch yourself things like this get real messy real fast”

“You worried about me? I think that’s cute,” Nakia teased.

“I protect my family,” Erik said looking at Nakia directly, “By any means.”

Before Nakia could respond there was a loud knock followed by the voice of a man announcing delivery. Erik’s demeanor changed and he smiled at Nakia again, “I hope you like Thai.”

Nakia nodded and watched him leave to get the food. She had so many decisions to make. Could her mission be compromised? How much did Erik know about her? Could she protect her friends? More important at this moment was a different question. How did Erik know she loved Thai food?

Tags:  @ovoxosavage @therevolution-willbelive@mamipeachy @wakandas-vibranium @wakandan-flowerz@texasbama @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson@maya-leche @theultimateblacknerdwithglasses @great-neckpectations @kumkaniudaku @blackgirloneshots@soldierandawar @babygirlofwakanda @to-the-water-ixazaluoh@sithlordslut@thorsthot @stevesthot@thattinycookiemonster @killmongersaidheyauntie @sunigyrl@daytimeheroicsonly @unholyxcumbucket @melaninmarvel@skysynclair19@pocmarvelworks @wildaboutchrisevans @non-stop-imagines @alanastormborn @tutufufuface @killmoncoochie@chefjessypooh @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @bakarisangel

[geekygoddesss]

“Don’t throw things at me”

Requested by @bitchyteen16 

It’s been almost two hours. I’ve been officially waiting for an hour and 40 minutes. How fun. I couldn’t say I was surprised by it, he wasn’t big on remembering things or being on time, He has shown up late to plenty of our dates before, also forgotten plenty of events in the past, but now was different, now that he was grounded and he was not being big at following the rules at all, so far, all I know is that he has been grounded for at least two weeks, I haven’t seen him in almost two days, I came to his place to visit him for a while and he’s gone, the windows open, I think it is pretty obvious on what happened. So I had no other choice than to stay here and wait for his big entrance. It’s been too long, but I didn’t mind, It was Peter who I was waiting for, I couldn’t expect something else from him.

I hear strange sounds come from the window and move all the way up to the roof, it had to be him. I look up and see him, taking his mask off and letting it fall on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice my presence at all. I don’t blame him, the room is kind of dark and I did not bother to turn the lights on at all, I liked it dark.

He climbs all the way to the door and shuts the door. Still hasn’t seen me. he turns the light on and that’s when I notice, the big and wet looking stain slowly spreading on his backpack.  I had to say something.

“Your backpack is dripping” I say and he jumps in surprise. He was so caught up that he fell on the floor, almost landing on his head but he’s quick enough to flip around and land on his belly. It sounds like a pretty bad fall, I cringe the moment he falls from the floor, but I don’t worry too much about him, I knew he wasn’t in pain. “Oh, f-, What?” He says in a whine, closing his eyes and getting up the ground  “Geez, you scared the crap out of me” “Sure But your backpack is dripping” I say with a chuckle, walking to his side and pointing at the stain I saw a second ago. He takes the bag off and looks at the stain with confusion but then his face completely relaxes. “It’s just water” He says opening it to take out a couple of things to then throw it aside “I have no books inside, just clothes, I think I’m good” he says and I nod. He looks up at me and raise his eyebrows, it seems like he just realised I was here, he quickly learns his head close to mine and pecks my lips in a smooth move “Hi” he says and I smile at him, this little gestures built up a really warm welcome and I was all about that.    “I thought you weren’t allowed to sneak out anymore” I say almost in a question, this is the only thing that has been wondering on my mind in the past few minutes, I was just a little confused by this, In my head, it did not make too much sense. “Well I mean, if you were allowed it wouldn’t be-” “Shh” he says grabbing my shoulder with one hand and covering my mouth with the other, this took me by surprise, I didn’t think anyone could really hear me besides him “Technically, I’m not” he explains taking his hand off my mouth. “Then..” “I just wanted to go out for a while, nothing happened and I’m fine” he says sitting on his bed and taking his backpack from the ground  “Whatever May doesn’t know won’t kill her” he says and I chuckle, that was really true. “Right” I nod, taking a seat on his spin chair which I totally love “What’s with that rule now? I thought she knew about... all this” I say trying to find the right word for the situation but like any other time I just said  “Spider-boy thing”

Of course, I was just joking, I knew how much he disliked when people called him that but I just thought it was a funny thing, so I used it quite a lot annoy him.

“Man” He corrects me  “SpiderMan” “Uh huh” I laugh rolling my eyes and giving a spin on the chai. Like I said, I love this chair. He continued with our past conversation “I don’t know, she’s scared I will get in trouble and all that” He said, not looking at me at all, he was too busy taking out all the damped clothes out of his backpack  “but as long as I keep it quiet and friendly outside, I’m good” “Huh” I nod  “That kind of contradicts the whole purpose of that suit” I say giving another spin on that chair “your suppose to fight bad man and crime” He chuckles “I know but let’s just not talk about this right now” he says getting up from where he was sitting and throwing everything in his laundry basket “Whats up?” He smiles down at me, taking my hand and getting me up my sit for some reason “Oh well, not much” I shrug, lacing our fingers together and stepping closer to him “I came by to say hi, your aunt seriously thought you were here, she told me to leave the door open and everything” I say to then point at the now closed door with my head “You should probably open that” I chuckle with a small shrug “I don’t want your aunt thinking we are doing other things”

“Right” he nods, shooting a string of web to the door know and pulling on it, the door opened right away. Smooth.  “I didn’t see you at school yesterday, are you okay?”  He asks me rubbing my shoulder with his free hand. “Yeah, I’m fine” I smile and peck his lips shortly “I didn’t feel like going so I just... didn’t” I shrug, I wasn’t really big on anything school related, or academic, Unlike him but I did my best “Hey, Can you help me with my math homework?” I randomly ask, revealing part of the purpose on why I was here, apart from paying him a little visit. “Sure” he chuckles, giving me another kiss before giving a step back “We can do that later- Hey! Aren’t you hungry? I’m hungry” he quickly changes the topic, grabbing his phone from the top of one of his shelf and jumping back on the bed and landing in a completely laid down position. “I’m very hungry” I agree, sitting back on the chair and taking my backpack that currently laid on the floor “even though I bought like a million Snacks for us”  I announce with a big smile while digging into my backpack “Catch” I say throwing a bag of Jellybeans at him, he catches it right away, barely looking at what or how I threw. “Uh nice” he says looking at the bag “You bought those candy bars?” he asks looking at me shortly before looking back at his phone. “Just Like a million of them” I chuckle, totally exaggerating my answer. I dig deeper into my bag and pull out a candy bar “Think fast” I say after throwing it at him. once again, he catches it in a blink. “Babe” he laughs “Stop that” he said sitting back in his bed. “Sorry, I just think it’s really cool when you do that” I shrug raising my hands in defense “your reflexes are dope” “Thanks” he laughs looking at his phone again “so, pizza? Thai? Uber eats?” he asks me “Pizza sounds good” I answer, spinning on the chair “can we have Hawaiian this time?” I ask him with a really big smile. I loved pizza, and I was desperately needing some Hawaiian pizza. “No” He says with a small smile. “Peter!”  I whine, throwing my head back “You got to pick the last time, it’s my turn” “I mean, yeah, but I hate pineapple on pizza” he chuckles at my reaction “sorry babe” he says with quickly dialing the pizza place “Uh Yeah, hi, I wanted to order something” he speaks on the phone “Large pizza, with extra cheese and what other- wow” he says when I throw another Jelly bean bag at him, he catches it in the air, It’s so cool “Nothing, Em, pepperoni is fine” He says still speaking to the person on the other line, while throwing a look at me. “Dang it” I whine quietly when he actually catches the bag, because my real propose at the moment is trying to defeat his powers and hit him in the face with something, I just hoped he didn’t get mad at me for this, I was just really bored and wanted to really beat this challenge I made to myself. “Peter Parker” he says on the phone catching another bag of candy in the air while getting up the bed to walk around the room “that’s the one, thanks” I try throwing another snack in the air, news flash he caught it again “oh and can you add one of those cookie desserts” He asks “also two large cokes and some dip” he quickly adds “that would be all, Thank you” he finishes the call and caughts the bag of chips I threw at him, even though his back was facing me and he couldn’t see me, he caughts it.  “Don’t throw things at me” he says turning around with a slightly annoyed tone. “You catch them every time” I say with an overly excited tone “Honestly, I will never get enough of that” “How bored are you?” he asks with a chuckle. “Enough to throw things at my boyfriend” I shrug spinning on my chair “Put some normal clothes on” I say to him, staring at him while he was standing in the middle of his room still being Spiderman “as much I love that Spiderman suit on you, I really think you should change and put that in the laundry” “You’re right” he nods turning to his closet and grabbing a shirt, I take advantage of that moment and throw the first thing I found to him, I fail, again, He moves down so what I threw didn’t even touch him, I should just give up now  “Stop that” he says pressing the button in the middle of his suit and letting it slide off his body. “Whoa, You just completely evicted that”  I say in complete surprise, he says nothing, he just kept changing into new clothes “Okay, I’ll stop now” I say in Surrender, walking to his bed and sitting on it “So, first study, then watch a movie?” “Huh” he says sliding a shirt on and taking my hand, guiding me towards his bed “or we can just not study and watch a movie” “No, Peter, I have a math test on Monday” I pout sitting by his side. “It’s Saturday, we can study tomorrow” he suggests with a little smile, I’m not totally convinced but he has a point, it’s Saturday, it’s getting dark outside, studying now just didn’t make sense, especially since I still had a couple of hours left before my curfew and I haven’t got to hang with peter for a while “What if, I take you somewhere really nice tomorrow and we can stay there all Afternoon, study and just hang out” he offers“just you and me” I mean, there is no way I can say no to this, hanging out with Peter for an entire afternoon? I was so in, he was my favorite person in the world, I would never deny expending some time with him.

“Are you going to wear this?” I say picking his mask off the floor and sliding it over my head, and looking at him through the mask. Definitely not the first time I’ve done this, but I would never get used to the blurry sight through this mask, I Really don’t get how he sees in this thing.

“Probably”  he smiles at me, or at least I think he is, I can’t really see him.

“Ha” I exclaim with a smile “okay Spiderman” I nod  “you’ve convinced me” I finally say “but I want you right outside my building at 2 pm, not later” I say pointing at him.

“Noted” he said taking my hands between his “You got my word, my lady” “Good to know” I nod and scoot closer to him “how do I look?” I ask turning my head as if I was modeling the mask

“Adorable” he chuckles  “but Maybe you should take it off, it’s all sweaty inside” he says guiding his hands to the ends of the mask and slowly rolling it up. He stops midway, leaving The upper half of my face still covered in it “Yeah” he says nervously, for some reason, he often used that tone with me and I still didn’t get why he still did that, we’ve been dating for almost six months, there was no need to be nervous.

he leans over and kisses me, so softly, so sweet, I was living for every second of it. I kiss him back, closing my eyes and enjoying the moment. He was such a good kisser, but too shy to show me how good he actually is, I loved it though, it made him seem so sweet. He is my sweet boy.

 “Um, I love this” I say when separating from our kiss “there better be a lot of this tomorrow” “And today, and always” he says pecking my lips  “Love you” “Love you too” I say like if I was singing a melody and lean for another kiss, but I jump in surprise when I hear another voice inside the room. “You guys are so cute” a female voice says, his aunt was here and god knows for how long she’s been actually standing there. I slide the mask off and look at her with a shy smile, my cheeks are completely red, I feel like if I was just caught up doing something bad. “Hi, Aunt May”  he says waving at her. “You two hungry? Want me to make dinner?” she asks, walking into the room. “No, thank you” I answer for him. “We actually ordered some pizza” He says complimenting my answer “Oh” she says, looking slightly surprised  “well, save something for me” she says with a small smile before taking some stuff around before walking out “I’ll leave you now, I Just needed to pick this up” she says dragging the laundry basket with her  “Leave the door open” “Yeah” Peter nods at his aunt, waving goodbye at her, even when she was going nowhere. Once she’s gone, he turns to me with an apologetic look and mumbles a soft “Sorry for that” “It’s fine” I shrug, being totally cool with it, I really was  “I like her, she’s so nice” he lets out a small chuckle “She won’t be so nice when she sees the suit In between my laundry” he says referring to the suit he just put inside, obviously if it was there  was because he used it and went against his aunt’s rules, but he didn’t seem to care that much, however, he would deal with that later “anyways” he said shaking his head   “Movie” he says changing the topic “Movie” I repeat “You choose” “Okay” I nod with a smile. he chooses pizza, I chose a movie, seemed fair enough to me. We only take a few moments to set everything up, In no time we were laying in the middle of his living room and watching the first movie that crossed my way. The pizza guy came here pretty fast and it felt nice enough to hang out with him, eating pizza, watching a movie after the longest week ever. I leave my slice of pizza in the box for a second and take a little rest for myself, Our pizza is almost gone and  I’ve eaten way too much, I need a break. I rest my head on his shoulder, he is still eating from his slice of pizza, not acting like he is full at all. Damn, he was really hungry.

The movie is not that great, to be honest, I am not even watching it, we are too busy bringing up random conversations and just being us. I don’t feel like watching the movie at all, random thoughts cross my mind, so I just let out the first thing that crosses my mind.

“Honestly though” I start getting his attention “Were your reflexes always this good?” That’s all I needed to start up this amazing night.

[goldenchildkatsuki]

“Banjirou’s bubbletastic bubble tea”

Update: I got rid of a load of the spelling errors, sorry about that guys! I’ll try not to get rid of spelling errors at like 3-4 AM when I’m basically dying of exhaustion

request by @kacchako:  Hey there! :'D I was wondering, about your requests, is it OK to ask you to write something based on something I drew?

here's the piece: they're sort of on a date to a bubble tea place (yeah I'm so original) and honestly I want to leave creative freedom up to you

Writers note: First of; I love your art! It’s very cute. And also a very cute date idea. I have been on a bubble tea date myself and 10/10 would recommend. Fellas, give your lady some exploding balls in her mouth. The PG kind.

Summary: 

Bakugou and Uraraka have been together for quite some time now and have made into a habit to hang out together in each others rooms during the weekend. But just hanging out in each others rooms, watching movies, playing video games and doing homework can get boring sometimes. So they decide to go for an impromptu visit at one of their parents homes. Whilst going down there they discover a cute little cafe that happens to sells Uraraka’s favourite beverage: bubble tea.

Ship: Kacchako (Uraraka x Bakugou)

Already together, so lot’s of kisses!!!!!

(bubble tea) Date

Word Count: 2.392

‘Stupid fucking tiny buttons.’ Bakugou agressively presses the buttons on his playstation controller. Uraraka is standing on her knees behind him, draping herself over him. ‘I don’t think it’s the buttons Katsuki. It might be you.’ In a second the irritated boy pauses the game and struggles to turn his head. ‘I won’t hesistate to fling you over my head onto the floor you know.’ He unpauses and turns back to his game. Again, a string of insults are being flung to the television screen. Uraraka sighs. She’s been watching her boyfriend play a first person shooter game for about an hour now and it’s only now becoming boring seeing him lose almost every game. She let out a deep sigh which blew a few of his spikey, blond strands forward. Uraraka starts messing with his face, putting her hands on his cheeks, booping his nose and pulling the corners of his mouth into a smile. ‘I’m guessing you’re getting bored.’ Bakugou says, still concentrated on his game. ‘Maaaaybe?’ She let herself fall backwards on Bakugou’s bed. ‘Saturdays are always boring. Everyone has gone back to their family homes or went out.’ Bakugou pauses the game once again and throws the controller on the ground. ‘Fuck this.’ Bakugou lays down next to Uraraka facing her. She smiles and snuggles closer to his hard and muscled chest. ‘I thought you were going your folks this weekend?’ he mumbles. The girl furrowed her brow and Bakugou can feel it against his body. ‘Yeah…I was, but mom and dad are extra busy this time a year so I can probably visit in two weeks.’ ‘Two weeks?!’ ‘Two weeks.’ He wraps his arms around her, knowing how much it bothers her without her having to tell him verbally. ‘That sucks angel face.’ Even though Uraraka likes cuddling, she doesn’t like being babied by him. She hates showing too much emotion, to anyone. She knows it makes people uncomfortable and for someone like Bakugou who can’t even say ‘I love you’ to her without struggling to get each sullible out, it would be a hopeless situation. ‘When were you going to see your mom and dad?’ Bakugou pulls her tighter into his embrace. ‘Eh, I haven’t told them I was coming because I wasn’t sure I felt like it you know?’ Uraraka looks over his head at the clock on the head of his bed. ‘It’s not too late, you want to go see your parents together?’ Bakugou starts laughing and put his hands on her face. ‘Do you really want to see my mom again? You know what happened last time.’ Uraraka does remember. Her partner is the spitting image of his mother and their matching personalities often work too well. It’s also like his mother lives for embarassing her son. The last time Uraraka was over she told a childhood story about when Bakugou tried to explode a bit of dog poop in the park and it exploded in his face, leaving him smelling for hours. ‘I told you a hundred times, I thought it was funny!’ Bakugou squeezes her cheeks together. ‘It wasn’t.’ ‘It was,’ she giggles. Bakugou squeezes her face even more. ‘No, it fucking wasn’t.’ Bakugou can’t hold a straight face anymore and starts laughing hysterically, which made Uraraka laugh as well. She can only imagine how silly face looks. ‘But seriously,’ she stomps his shoulder. ‘It would be nice to have a homecooked meal as well.’ Bakugou’s laughter becomes softer. He has to seriously think. He let her go, turns around and picks his phone off the coffee table. He checks the train times to see if they can make it to his house before dinner. When he seriously has to think he put his hand to his chin and supports that with his other arm. That’s when he looks most attractive to Uraraka she mentioned once. ‘Okay, okay, okay, we have to leave the dorm in like 15 minutes then.’ Uraraka jumps up onto her feet and fell onto him. ‘Thank you!’ she starts kissing him all over. On his crown, on his left ear, on his chin, on his nose. Literally everywhere. It tickles and Bakugou hates tickling. ‘God dammit, stop that.’ ‘You-like-it.’ Uraraka said teasingly inbetween kisses. Bakugou starts kissing her everywhere back and they’re just lying there. Like a lovesick pile of people, laughing and kissing. ‘Come on, we need to get changed, Kat-Katsuk-Katsuki stop that, you win!’ Bakugou stops and sits up, proudly smiling down at her. Uraraka’s body can finally relax and she feels like she can finallly breathe for the first time in about five minutes. The tall, broad boy, sticks out his hand. She grabs it and he pulls her up. ‘Come on, we can’t miss our train.’

 The couple is walking down almost abandoned shopping area close to the Bakugou household. Since a big shopping center opened up near the train station, this place has been pretty much a ghost town. ‘I didn’t think it was going to be so sunny out here, gosh.’ Uraraka squints her eyes and tries to block out the sun with her free hand. ‘It’s always sunny here, I swear I’ve told you that a million times’, Bakugou growls against the sun shining in his eyes. Uraraka is looking down the road trying to find a touristy shop that sells some cheap sunglasses. She suddenly stops walking and Bakugou almost yanks her forward. ‘What the hell.’ Her mouth opens slowly. ‘No way’, she said softly. ‘No way what?’ ‘No flipping way!’ Bakugou irritatedly turns around and yells: ‘No flipping way what?!’ Bakugou looks across the street and there’s one building that stands out from all the bland buildings surrounding it. It’s a light yellow coloured building with small flowers perks and flowy white curtains at it’s window. It has a big sign that says: Banjirou’s bubbletastic bubble tea.

‘What the fuck is a bubbletastic bubble tea?’ Bakugou says with one eyebrow raised. A loud gasp escapes his girlfriends mouth. She pulls her hand away and slowly put it near her mouth.  ‘Do you seriously not know what bubble tea is?’ Bakugou shrugs and clunkily wipes his sweaty hand on his baggy jeans. ‘Well, you know, I know what tea is of course. I’m not stupid. But what the fuck is the bubble part. Uraraka grabs his arm and rushes across the street. She admires the building with all it’s soft and aesthetically pleasing aspects. Her eyes start to sparkle. Even though they have been together for a while, Uraraka can still make Bakugou blush from time to time. ‘Bubble tea is one of the most amazing beverages in the world! It’s tea where they put in bubbles at the bottom of your drink. They call those bubbles topioca pearls and they have all kinds of different flavors of them and of course they’re edible.’ Bakugou tilts his head at her. ‘I’m sorry but those bubbles or pearls or whatever might be on of the most unecessary things I’ve ever heard about in my life.’ Uraraka pouts. ‘Don’t say that!’ Bakugou puts his hands behind his head and laughs. ‘I’m sorry angel face but I’m kind of right.’ Uraraka huffs and pushes past him into the cafe. A small and frail old man behind the counter croaks: ‘Good day lady and gent and welcome to Banjirou’s bubbletastic bubbletea, what can I get you today?’ Uraraka greets him back and starts admiring the cafe. It’s small and has a homely feel to it. The furniture is made of some dark old wood and the tables have pastel colored table cloths on them. Each a different colour. Bakugou looks at the menu above the old man, written carefully in chalk on green chalkboards. He’s a bit thrown off by all the flavours he can choose from. Uraraka naturally starts a conversation with the old man, talking about when he opened his cafe and the interior design of the cafe. The conversation quickly turns into Uraraka rambling into her love for bubble tea. Bakugou can tell the poor old man is getting overwhelmed by her enthousiasm and interupts her. ‘Uraraka! You might want to give your order now.’ The old man laughs and waves his hand at him. ‘Oh don’t worry about it, she’s the first person in this cafe I’ve seen talking about bubble tea so passionately, it lights me up inside.’ ‘Same here old man.’ Bakugou mutters. ‘Don’t you fancy some bubble tea as well young man?’ Bakugou walks closer to the counter. He had stared at the menu for quite some time but has no idea what he should go for. ‘She knows what I want.’ Only Uraraka seems to notice that Bakugou is playing off his ignorance. She doesn’t mind it at all because she already thought of a drink he could try first. ‘I would like some melon tea with strawberry pearls and I think he would like some hot chai tea with the standard pearls, both medium sized cups.’ The old man, claps his hands and steps of his little stand. ‘What a wonderful choice young lady, coming right up!’ he shuffles from station to station and gently prepares the two drinks for them. Bakugou fishes his wallet out of his pocket and just manages to fish out enough coins out of it to pay for the beverages. Uraraka pretends to not see her partner pay for the both of them. They decided to never talk about who paid for what after having a heated discussion at a burger joint fighting about that she could pay for her own food. After that she bursted out in tears in the middle of the restaurant and back at the dorm she opened up more about her financial status. Even though the man seems physically unfit he manages to fix up their tea’s in no time. ‘There you go lovebirds! Enjoy your drinks!’ He picks up the coins Bakugou laid out and put them in the pocket of his apron. They pick up their drinks at the same time and Bakugou tilts his cup. ‘These balls sure are hella weird.’ ‘Please don’t call them balls.’ ‘They’re balls though, edible balls…Well, I guess all balls are edi-.’ Uraraka threw him her signature “you better shut it” look. ‘Bakugou, I swear.’ ‘Wow, back to the last name basis again, might as well get dumped here and now.’ Uraraka face softens and took a few steps towards him. She stands right under his nose looking up into his firestone like eyes. ‘Are you just gonna wait for me to try it before you start drinking your tea?’ The girl who seemed to be all sparkles nods. She takes a step back and gives Bakugou all the space to potentially enjoy his drink. Bakugou groans and takes a sip. His brows raise up and his eyes focus on his straw making him look crosseyed. ‘What the fuck?’ Uraraka finally decides to take a sip of her own drink and lets out a satisfied puff of air. ‘Who invented this shit?! Even though Bakugou’s face suggests that he’s still unsure about it, he’s still taking confident sips. ‘I hate to say it but these are too good.’ The old man who is cleaning up his stations nods with a big bright smile on his face. Uraraka  takes Bakugou’s hand and waves with her cup at the old man. ‘We’re gonna get going now, thank you sir!’ They step outside and continue their journey to the Bakugou household. Uraraka was literally beaming. He knew food made her happy but this is something else. ‘My drink has…cinnamon in it right?’ Bakugou pauses mid sentence to take another big sip. ‘Mhm!’ Uraraka chirps. ‘I like it, it’s spicy in a way.’ ‘You’re kind of a weird guy Katsuki.’ ‘I just like spicy things!’ Uraraka jolts up like she remembered something and pulls her lips off the straw. ‘You should try mine!’ Bakugou, now being completely on the bubble tea train, bends over and took a sip without any hesitation. When the fruity pearl exploded in his mouth his head knocked back he and started choking. ‘That is not okay! Your damn balls are trying to fucking kill me!’ Uraraka immediately folds from laughter and Bakugou just sticks his tongue out with a confused look on his face. ‘All the fruit balls are like that! Oh shoot, now I’m calling them balls!’ she hicks. After letting her laugh til she almost couldn’t breathe Bakugou shoves his drink in her face. ‘Try mine. My drink won’t try to fucking kill you.’ Uraraka stands up straight and puts her hair behind her ears. ‘Okay, okay, right!’ Her lips surround the straw and she looks up to him. She hums. ‘I actually never had this one before but I’m considering getting this one next time!’ Bakugou proudly looks at his drink. ‘That’s what I thought.’ They continue their walk, Uraraka still gushing about the interior design of the cafe and Bakugou talking about what he hopes is on the table tonight. They joke, laugh and enjoy their drinks in the autumn sun. When almost finsihing their drinks they wait next to a trashcan so they can throw thema way immediately. ‘Hurry up.’ Uraraka just about makes out when Bakugou is trying to sip up the remaning balls. Before you know it, it’s a race. Uraraka being careful and a bit slower on purpose so the competetive boy doesn’t go to fast and chokes on a pearl again. Bakugou reaches his last three pearls, sucks them up his straw and blows it onto Uraraka’s face. The tiny black bubble bounched of her small nose and onto the sidewalk. She stopped immediately and her eyes widened. ‘You did not!’ Making sure his girlfriend actually doesn’t get angry he throws his cup away and grabs both of her shoulders. ‘Don’t be mad!’ he kisses the little drop of tea that the bubble left on her nose. Her body that was once so tense relaxed immediately. He kisses her nose again. Every kiss saying. “I was just fooling around, I’m sorry”. Uraraka turns her head away after the fourth kiss. Bakugou let go of her shoulders and crosses his arms. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually upse-‘ a pink pearl bounces of his forehead. ‘You’re gonna get it lady.’ Bakugou smirks.

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 17

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3K, 17/?

Cup O’Questions

Nozomi’s phone buzzed. Message from Eli.

E: Meet me at the Cup o’, as soon as you can.

“Nozomi?” Erena called out from the stage.

Nozomi frowned at her phone, considering.

Rin had been so grim that Maki had only kissed Nico quickly, with a whispered apology,  before dragging the smaller werewolf home with her. Rin transformed as soon as they got to Maki’s house so Maki ducked into the shed and changed, chasing her friend up to the treehouse, where Rin sat and howled sorrowfully into the twilight. Maki wondered if Hanayo heard her and what the hell had gone on. Rin kept howling, but Maki was sure her friend would be crying if she transformed so Maki grabbed the scruff of Rin’s neck and shook her. Which got a growl and a leap at Maki from Rin, which led to wrestling until Rin collapsed exhausted and Maki went back down to transform and change, climbing back up the treehouse ladder with a blanket for Rin. She put it over her friend, sitting close enough that Rin could lean on her.

“Hanayo loves you, Rin. You know that.” Maki said quietly, watching Rin’s ears twitch. Rin whined. Maki refused to respond. If being in love made you think crazy things about the person you were in love with...Maki shook her head, best not to compare herself to Rin. Rin’s self confidence had always been shaky, Hanayo had told her. And school was making things difficult. Rin loved the running part and hated the study part, but she had not wanted to hold Hanayo back from a school the other girl really wanted to go to. And Rin’s speed and stamina were top prospect Division I, even if her grades weren’t stellar.

Maki nodded off, leaning back against the tree, thinking about what Nico would say when she brought her up here. Rin would not be present. Or in hearing distance. Maki sighed, there probably was no not in hearing distance, but she could at least make sure it was timed so Rin was probably safely locked up inside a building with Hanayo.

“Maki?” Rin sounded so sad.

“So are you ready to tell me what happened?” Maki stretched out her cramped legs. Rin had transformed and sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself.

“”Kayochin’s lying to me. I can always tell.” Rin’s response was so quiet Maki knew she wouldn’t have heard it with just human hearing. “And she made me promise not to change or follow her.”

“Sounds like she’s worried.” Maki pointed out.

“Sounds like she doesn’t want to date a werewolf anymore.” Rin whined.

“Rin.” Maki’s voice was a bark of anger, “Hanayo loves you. Things probably seem different because you’re stressing about college and her new job.”

Rin shook her head, “It’s not that, Maki. I can tell. She’s hiding something. Kayochin doesn’t trust me anymore.” Even in the dark, Maki could see Rin’s eyes glittered with tears.

Maki didn’t answer right away and when she did, it started with as sympathetic a howl as she could get in human form, “Talk to Hanayo, Rin. Tell her what you told me. Maybe it’s not as bad as you’re afraid of.”

Rin shrugged, “Maybe it is.” Maki felt like growling at her friend until she got out of the gloomies, but then Rin continued, contrite, “Sorry I interrupted your afternoon with Nico.”

“It’s ok. You’re my friend, Rin. I care if you’re upset.” Maki nudged Rin with her shoulder, “I put your clothes in the shed, if you want to go in and eat. My parents are out for the evening so we can order a pizza or something.”

Rin nodded, transformed again and jumped down to the shed roof. Maki folded up the blanket and made her way back to the ground.

Eli and Maki’s meek friend with the glasses were already in the farthest booth from the door when Nico arrived. She waved at them and took over from Damian. Sunday night was a single person shift on slow weekends. A steady influx of people mostly grabbing drinks to go kept Nico busy, but when there was a lull she watched Eli and...Hanayo, who were involved in an intense conversation, Hanayo pulling up multiple things for Eli to look at on her cell. Nico was curious if Eli was the reason Rin was so upset. She could see that. Of course, no one could be more attractive than Nico but Nico could expand her empathy enough to see where the leggy econ dance genius would undermine a person’s confidence.

“Nico-chi!” Nozomi’s voice boomed, Nico whirled before her busty friend could sneak up behind her for mischief. But Nozomi just nodded and slid next to Eli, who kissed her, ‘Who’s your adorable friend here, Eli-chi?’

“You want the usual, Nozomi?” Nico leaned on the counter.

“Tea, please, the herbal chai.” Nozomi smiled, seeming a little sad. Nico wondered what was up.

“How’s your head, Nozomi?” Eli slid her arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

“Better now that I’m out of Wirtz. Thanks, Nico.” Nozomi took her tea and inhaled, sighing as the warm steam drove out the dryness of a cold January late afternoon. Nico chuckled, wondering if everyone was part werewolf now. Hanayo looked at her curiously.

“Hey, Nico.” Eli frowned, “Can you talk? Hanayo and I have been talking about something you and Nozomi probably need to know, working in that space.”

Nico sighed dramatically, then slid in next to Hanayo, “Just until a customer comes in.”

Eli nodded, then glanced meaningfully at Hanayo, who stared back uncomprehendingly for a minute, then jumped, “S...sorry....I...I…don’t...” She shook her head at Eli, “Help me.”

Eli grimaced and stretched her arms out in front of her, then leaned forward, dividing her attention between Nico and Nozomi. “Hanayo came to the theatre to meet Erena today and I noticed after she left that Nozomi’s headaches started again, so I followed her.”

“So bold, Eli-chi,” Nozomi teased.

“I”m worried about you.” Eli’s smile was serious. “Turns out Hanayo is worried about someone too.”

Hanayo nodded and took up the story, “I...I saw an ad for help studying the supernatural and I have a...friend…”

Friend? Rin? Maki? Nico turned in her seat, alert.

“T...these 3 students are trying to find proof of demons or ghosts or witches or...w...werewolves.”

Nico got up, switched the sign to “Closed” and locked the door. Hanayo watched her, nodding approval.

“Nico-chi?” Nozomi was puzzled, Nico just shook her head and sat back down next to Hanayo, who continued.

“I’ve only started and I mostly work with data they’ve already gathered, but today Erena needed to make an emergency repair so she sent me a message.” Hanayo sipped her hot chocolate daintily.

Eli broke in with a matter of fact summary, “And the meter they have measuring and broadcasting energy frequencies seems to be what’s hurting Nozomi, if what Hanayo and I think is true.”

“B...but if I just break the meter, they may find another way to hurt Nozomi. And my friends. And I won’t let them do that.” Hanayo lost her shyness as she got more upset.

“So we have at least two problems.” Eli sat back, her arm behind Nozomi. Nozomi was still caught up in suspicions triggered by Nico’s latest action, so she leaned across the table.

“Why do you look so worried, Nico-chi? Is someone you know a demon, oh, wait maybe you are. You can’t be that concerned with little old me.” Nozomi poked Nico’s forearm, Nico hissed.

“Do you have a plan?” Nico wondered, completely ignoring Nozomi.

Hanayo looked embarrassed, “I...I don’t know enough yet…or if they’re doing anything illegal or against university research policies.” She smiled at Nozomi, “I didn’t know they were hurting anyone until Ms. Ayase told me about you and your foreshadowing abilities, Ms. Tojo. And I was about to text Nico.”

Nozomi patted Hanayo on the hand, “Call us Eli and Nozomi. You’re too cute to hurt anyone, Hanayo.” Nozomi kept hold of the hand, “So why are you telling Nico-chi, here? And how do you know her?”

“Hanayo’s a regular.” Nozomi’s eyes narrowed, increasing Nico’s unease, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I got bit by a werewolf. There’s a rumor. Nico started it to drum up Fangs interest.”

“I haven’t heard it.” Nozomi was even more suspicious now, giving Nico the side eye. Hanayo giggled.

Nico smiled, her dazzler, and her hands flew up to her temples, “Nico Nico Ni. Nico can’t help it if Nozomi the charlatan’s been too ill to talk to the best people.”

“I have heard a few Kashima’s a real vampire whispers,” Eli suggested. Nico snorted.

“One of my bosses did say she wasn’t getting anywhere with Yazawa.” Hanayo added, pulling her hand back from Nozomi.

“See. Proof that news about Nico gets everywhere.” Nico folded her arms over her chest in a self congratulatory fashion, trying not to panic about Hanayo’s confirmation, “Who was it?”

“Tsubasa Kira.” Hanayo frowned at her cup, “I don’t see her much.”

That’s because she’s spending all her time hovering around me and getting glared at by Maki, Nico realized, going silent as she reconsidered Tsubasa’s actions. She wondered what Maki had been sensing.

“Isn't that the cute stagehand, Nico-chi?” Nozomi seemed taken aback by actual confirmation that someone was interested in Nico.

Nico grunted.

“You’re not getting headaches too?” Hanayo fidgeted with her fingers.

Nico shook her head, still lost in thought.

“It doesn’t matter.” Eli’s voice was stern, “I’m not letting them hurt Nozomi anymore. I’m ripping that meter down.”

“No. I told you,” Hanayo cried out. “I think I can switch a dead transmitter in and the meter will still keep recording data, without sending out the frequency that is causing the problem. So they won’t know as long as…”

Nozomi’s eyes lit up, “I keep having headaches.”

Hanayo nodded.

“But Nozo here can’t act.” Nico flipped her chin up, “It requires talent.”

“I’ll just think of the pain of looking at your face during your duet with Kashima.” Nozomi smiled sweetly.  

Nico growled, and stood, heading back to the door, unlocking it, “Go home, Nozomi.”

Nozomi laid her head on Eli’s shoulders, trilling, “Anywhere Eli is is home to me.”

Eli coughed up a little of the coffee she’d been drinking and blushed as it dribbled down her chin.

Nico dropped her head to the counter, “Please, don’t make your girlfriend spew liquids everywhere, Nozomi. Use another one of your super powers. For Nico.” Who had to get up at 6 a.m. and has no patience for this. Nico finished that thought internally and began the noisiest task she could think of, hoping to discourage lingering.

Nozomi's glance was speculative, but she merely stood and linked arms with Eli, “The cards will tell me the truth, Nico-chi, even if you won’t.”

“Good luck with that.” Nico saluted as Eli and Nozomi left, Nozomi whispering in the blonde’s ear. Nico continued to move large and clanky things until she heard a soft voice, “Nico?”

Hanayo. She had waited.

“So they’re after Maki and Rin?” Nico sighed, head falling into her hands. Too long a day. Girlfriend with cute ears in both forms and bonus tail and now a bounty hunter or something after her, “Do you know why?”

Hanayo was angry, “They don’t seem to care about the people they’re gathering data from. It’s all malice and curiosity, I’m not sure why. They assumed I’d had a bad experience when I interviewed.”

“Did you tell them about…” Hanayo didn’t seem surprised that Nico knew Rin was; she must have expected Maki would tell her.

“Never!” Hanayo interrupted before Nico finished her question, “I think they suspect...someone, but they don’t actually know.”

Did Tsubasa suspect Maki? If you realized there were werewolves, would you put the similarities together?

“I haven’t told Rin or Maki.” Hanayo fidgeted again, “Rin...Rin’s not good at hiding things.”

“And Maki’s not calm…” Nico continued for Hanayo, as the younger girl sighed.

“I...I have to get home. Rin’ll be back soon.” Hanayo apologized, checking her phone and still not seeing a text from Rin.

“Thanks for telling Nico. And helping Nozomi.” Nico poured herself a coffee, planning to drink it bitter, without any added sweet at all. Now was a time she needed full awareness.

‘Are you going to tell Maki?” Hanayo asked, shy again.

“Nico hasn’t decided.” Nico raised her mug, “Nico needs a minute. At least.”

Hanayo half smile was sympathetic, “Good night, Nico.”

“Be careful.”

Rin had headed out and Maki’s parents weren’t due back for hours. Which left her pacing, ignoring anything she should be doing and thinking about Nico. And the party. And how nice it had been, on the balcony, to have some privacy and Nico’s undivided attention. But their last interaction felt like an unfinished conversation that kept needling Maki. She could call Nico. Or text. Nearly 10, Nico’s shift at the Cup o’ would be done soon and Maki’s parents weren’t there to interfere with impulse. So Maki slid open the back door and prepared to transform.

A couple more customers had wandered in, cold and in need of conversation and an energy boost so Nico had had an easy evening to get through, not much time for worrying, no lines of impatient stress puppies. Nico stopped wiping down the counter and shook her head at herself. Stress puppies was a phrase she’d have to wipe from her vocabulary; it just brought pouty, worried lavender eyes to mind.

A bark, outside the door. Maki. As if summoned. Nico grumbled and opened the door, Maki leaping up to lick her cheek, “You’re not supposed to be here, Maki. Your parents are going to hate Nico.” Maki ignored that and wandered into the Cup O’, sniffing curiously, stopping where Hanayo had been sitting to stare at Nico.

“Yes, your friend was here.” Nico went back to the counter, “Don’t make any messes for Nico. Nozomi couldn’t keep her girlfriend from drooling, but don’t you start.”

Maki was still sniffing the booth, then whined inquisitively.

“Nico will tell you later, pretty girl. Don’t worry. Let Nico finish.”

Maki sat on her haunches and watched as Nico shut everything down, then grabbed her oversized parka.  Bounding outside, Maki was ready to trot in the direction of Nico’s place, when Nico put a gentle hand on her shoulders.

“I drove, Maki. Nico will take you home.” Nico opened the passenger door and urged Maki into the car with her hip.  Once Nico was settled, but before she put on her seatbelt, she turned to Maki, who leaned forward to sniff Nico, sensing worry and a little fear. “We have to talk”

Whimpering, Maki frantically tried to fit herself into Nico’s lap, between the actress and the steering wheel, which crunched Nico back in her seat. Nico wrapped both arms around Maki as she whispered, “No, pretty girl. Nico didn’t mean to worry you. Maki and Nico are fine.” Nico pulled Maki tight and kissed the side of her head. Maki’s panting breaths calmed, although Nico decided to keep her arms around the wolf. She was so warm. But heavy. After a few moments, Nico reluctantly urged Maki off her lap, and when her girlfriend resettled in the passenger seat met the luminous swirls of green pinwheeling in Maki’s eyes calmly, “‘Nico has a problem. Maki can help. I’ll explain when we get to your house.”

Maki sat up, proudly. Surely, she could easily solve this, a second problem for her GIRLFRIEND.

Nico started the car, watching Maki out of the corner of her eye, “Try not to be so cute Nico can’t keep her eyes on the road, pretty girl.”

Maki howled softly and stuck out her tongue, then snuffled her nose through Nico’s hair.

“Hey, stay back. Nico is busy.” Nico flailed at her with one ineffectual hand until Maki rolled over on the seat, exposing her belly. Nico wondered briefly if wolves needed seatbelts and put the car in drive.

The room was dark when Hanayo walked in, Rin curled up in their bed, as far under the blankets and against the wall as she could be. She’d sent no texts at all.

“Rin?” Hanayo’s voice echoed in a too-still room, even at a whisper. Still no response from Rin. Taking off her coat and shoes, Hanayo crawled under the covers, reaching for Rin, who pulled away at first and then threw herself at Hanayo, sobbing.

“Rin?” Hanayo’s voice squeaked with panic, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Rin took a huge breath, but her voice was a frightened mumble, “Does Kayochin have someone else?”

Hanayo didn’t register what Rin was asking at first and then the surge of panic raced through her, “Rin. NO. I love you, Rin. Only you, Rin.”

Doubly green eyes blinked at Hanayo, the effect eerie in the darkness as cold voice alien to Rin’s natural cheer accused her, “But you’re lying to me.”

Hanayo sat up and waited for Rin to do the same, seizing her fiancée’s trembling hands and repeating, over and over again, between kisses, “I love you Rin, I love you Rin, I love you Rin” until Rin relaxed against her.  Then Hanayo let the silence sit until once again their hearts were in synch, beating to the calm, steady, mutual rhythm that had given her so much strength and confidence to draw from over the years. Only then could Hanayo say the words that made their worst fear real, “Someone’s hunting werewolves, Rin.”

A/N: Howdy. I am determined to get back to a weekly posting schedule and I appreciate your patience 'til then. We are getting more Fall like weather here, which is nice as I enjoy wandering around in both shorts and a hoodie. And baby pinecones are adorable : ) Have been having fun on the side skimming Bram Stoker's Dracula and figuring out how many musical numbers are actually in Fangs.I hope this chapter has answered some of your questions. As I'm in question answering mode, ask away. Or tell me what's your favorite spooky read. I'm still mulling my favorite NicoMaki fics list.

Thanks for reading.