#Prom au

[dearladynightmare]

Entrapdak Positivity Month Day 10: Party

Finally time for me to post this beautiful piece:D I drew it a weeks ago, but I wasn’t able to finish it because my drawing app hasn’t worked properly at that time:P

When I saw the prompts I decided to spare it for today and finally added the background^^

I put a lot of effort into their prom outfits especially Entraptas and I think it turned out sooo beautiful:3 I like thinking of her in a suit for prom but I wanted to create sth more special:3

Moreover I thought of a prom event taking place at Brightmoon. Maybe to celebrate the victory over Horde Prime?? As anyways I hope you enjoy!!

[aggro-my-beloved]

Prom? (Shaw Pack x Listeners Imagine)

note: I just made an A03 to post my works on as well, please feel free to follow and interact with my stuff there if that's more comfortable for you! (@aggro_my_beloved)--I also realize it's not prom season, but I never got to go to mine and am simply coping. TLDR: let me live :)

pairings: miloxdarlin' (non-canon), asherxarden (non-canon), davidxasher? (non-canon) davidxangel, miloxsweetheart, samxdarlin', asherxbabe

warning(s): mentions of childhood trauma, gambling addictions, alcohol addictions, sex addictions, an overall depiction of a horrible father.

summary: The pack reminisces about Dahlia High's prom night, and Marie may have overshared a little too much about hers.

word count: 2.2k

estimated read time: 10.5 mins

2010

Marie drew back to admire her son, donning a crooked cotton tie, his father’s black leather loafers scuffed to hell and loose on his feet, as well as a toothy smile. The improvisations of his wear are minor faults, hardly noticeable to the naked eye with thanks to his mother’s stitchwork. The three-piece suit tunic that once hung to his lower thighs, and pants that skirted the floor now fit him like he was born in it. 

“Look how handsome you are,” Marie clasped her hands and guided them to shield her face. It may hide her gummy smile but does little for her eyes prickling with tears. 

“Ma, please don’t cry.” Milo’s plea proved fruitless, as the interlocked fingers separated to wipe desperately at the dark circles beneath her eyes. Perhaps it was the endless nights the woman spent hunching over a sewing machine or the number of times Mrs. Chen, who owned the dry cleaner on 3rd, sent the old suit through the cycle. The stench of cigarette smoke was seemingly embedded into the fabric no matter what she tried. “Like bad tattoo, Miss Greer—it cannot be undone!” 

Milo didn’t mind the lingering smell, for he’s had years of training his nose not to curl in the backseat for fear of his dad’s scornful gaze clocking him in the rearview mirror. One particular coughing fit from his younger years resulted in the boy being sent to his room for being disrespectful—but he heard his father explaining to his mother amidst his tramping down the hall that the glaze over his eyes and reddening cheeks was “simply hay fever.” 

He hoped that, for the sake of his date, he could mask the smell with enough cologne to go somewhat undetected.

 

“You don’t think Dad will be upset about his clothes missing, do ya?” Milo’s nervous chuckle hangs in the air.

“When he waltzes in the door from this week’s business trip, I doubt he’ll be awake enough to notice.” Marie’s copious euphemisms for Colm and his dangerous compulsions did not go unnoticed by Milo at age seven. The ten years added to his belt only gave him time to decode them. Awake really means sober. Business trips are in reference to casinos, bars, or brothels—a very flexible term, to the boy’s surprise. He wants to applaud the front he’d seen through like glass since childhood.

 

“Besides,” her hand occupies itself with the navy tie, still askew, and aligns the windsor to perch evenly below his folded collar, “this is your night. You deserve to feel special, and so does this date of yours.”

 

Milo scoffs, fighting his eyes not to roll up to the popcorn ceiling. Facing his mother’s curiosity was no harder than the water stain from the upstairs neighbor’s dishwasher.

 

“How’d I know this would come up?” 

“Come on, I’m your mother. I deserve to know who my little boy’s become so smitten for.” 

“You’ll see them one day, ma. Patience is a virtue, after all.” It’s Marie’s turn to scoff and turn her cheek.

“Please, I only said that to get you to wait till Christmas for your Xbox.” She eyes the clock on the wall, reading six-thirty. 

“You said the gang would be here to pick you up by now, right?” Milo also cocks his head to see the time. 

“With Ash driving, they’ll be lucky to make it here alive.” His mother’s eyes are boring into his instantly, with furrowed brows and a frown to complement them. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” Another nervous chuckle filled the space before it was cut off by a gasp. Milo’s hands pat around his jacket pockets, eyes flying around the room frantically. “Shit, I forgot-“

“No, you didn’t.” Marie shuffles to Milo’s desk, opening a lower compartment where she’d stowed away his boutonnière and his date’s corsage. “I figured this would be a spot you never check. You said their favorite color is—“

“Yes, yes oh this is perfect! Thank you, ma.” Milo leans forward to kiss her cheek and envelope her petite body into a hug. 

“Still don’t know this person’s name, don’t you think that’s kinda odd?” A series of knocks resound on the front door, cueing Milo to sigh and extend an offer he knew his mother couldn’t refuse. 

“Would you like to meet them, ma?” 

Marie raced him down the hall before he could finish his question. There’s an untimed beating in his chest that he can’t stop. Is it from the excitement of tonight, or who he’d be spending it with? 

“Hi there, I’m M-“ 

“Hey, Mrs. Greer.” The figure lowered their head to the ground and dug the toe of their shoe into the concrete outside. Their hair appeared silky to the touch, skin looking just as soft as it glistened in the setting sun. The jewel tone of their wear complemented their complexion—comparable to a god(dess), their aura was all beauty and grace. 

“Tank?!” Marie gasps. “Oh my gosh, please don’t tell Milo I called you that. He isn’t supposed to know I still eavesdrop on his conversations. You know what, let’s pretend this conversation never happened.” 

“What never happened?” Milo tried not to choke on the cologne he’d spritzed on himself before dashing to find his mother. 

Marie and Tank exchange a knowing look and suspicious smiles. They reply in unison, “Nothing.” 

He squints his eyes, emitting a skeptical hum. “Already keeping secrets from me, huh?” He folds his arms defensively. “I expect this from you, but you…” His finger wags back and forth from his date to his mother.

“Consider it a trust exercise, babe.” Tank steps inside fully to clutch Milo’s hand with a shy smile. 

“Babe,” Marie whispers, “so that means…you two?” 

“Oh c’mon Mrs. G, it was only a matter of time.” Blonde, spiked hair, and sunglasses peek around the corner of the door, and Asher’s dazzling smile introduces itself to the three. “Who knows, maybe there will come a day you realize what you’ve been looking for has been here that whole time.” He lifted the sunglasses to shoot Marie a wink. 

“Oh god, please ignore him. He’s on his third redbull and feeling extra bold.” Tank explains with a shake of her head. “Keep dreaming, Asher.” They add.

“And feel free to not wake up.” Milo chides, urging the two to giggle. “You look good, by the way.” He and Tank lock eyes.

“Thanks,” their eyes flicker up and down to take in their date. They add in a low voice, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“You don’t have a date, Asher?” Inquires Marie. Silence falls between the three teens before they’re all laughing wildly at the parent’s cluelessness. 

“What’s so funny? Asher’s…” The boy’s eyes grow big, awaiting Marie’s words of flattery and reassurance. His ego deflates when she starts over. “He could have a date if he wanted to.” 

“He does.” Milo squeaks through his laughter. “Well, in a way.” 

“If you can call it that.” A low, rough voice disrupted everyone’s laughter as David marched into the room. 

“David. Oh! Wait, you two…huh, strangely that makes more sense than I thought.” Marie hums, shrugging her shoulders.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m confused.”

Marie opens and closes her mouth, unsure of how to respond. “Wait, you two aren’t...?”

“I’m going with Arden. She and I agreed that if we couldn’t find dates by this weekend, we would go together.” 

“Pity date.” Tank coughs into their elbow. 

“Where is Arden? Is she hiding back there?” Marie cranes her neck for a better angle at the apartment’s threshold.

“Waiting in the car with Chrissy and Amanda. And it’s still a date.” Asher argues, sparing a glance towards his fellow pack member. “That’s more than big guy over here can say.” Asher juts a thumb toward David’s looming body in the back. 

“Awe, David, why aren’t you going with anybody?” Growing a few inches this past summer (in several places) along with enough facial hair for a 5 o’clock shadow promised David enough street cred for a few romantic ventures. His pack mates went as far as placing bets on which of their peers would win their friend over enough to accompany him to the dance but were all left in shock as he turned every choice of theirs down. Marie’s question didn’t faze David. He’d explained it a million times to his friends and father this past week. 

“Going stag. It’s just a personal choice.” The mom snorts at this.

“I remember when I went to my senior prom. It was the same night your father and I got together. Nobody had asked me, and he was planning to “go stag” as well. A couple of drinks of punch and one slow dance later, we were in the locker rooms just—“Four pairs of eyes were on Marie now, who realized she’d gotten too caught up in reminiscing. 

“Uh, forget about it. The end’s not that important.” She waves off with darkening cheeks and a sheepish smile.

“I think it’s kind of interesting. I bet the songs and outfits were so much different years ago.” Tank interjects with a smile. 

“Yeah, how long ago was your prom, Ma?” Adds Milo, who takes the opportunity to snake his arm around Tank’s waist. They sidle up closer to him as a result.

“How old are you?” 

_________________________________________

Present Day

“I can’t believe how long ago that was.” The four friends peer down at the photo of them gussied up and taken by Marie. Asher was still in his sunglasses and throwing up a "rock on" sign with his tongue out, David had his arms crossed and was rolling his eyes at the ridiculous pose. Tank and Milo stood back to back, finger guns held under their chins and against their chests with goofy smiles. Fourteen years of the developed picture left it with sun spots and wrinkled corners, but the memories of that night still felt new to each of them. 

“We look sick as hell!” Asher nods. “Well, except David. He just looked sick of us.” 

“Some things never change.” Angel pipes up, daring to bring a finger to the corner of their mate’s mouth and lift it. 

“I think it was just you that he was sick of, Ash. There’s only so much pop music this stick-in-the-mud can handle.” Tank points. 

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to play Taylor Swift the whole car ride there! You’re pointing fingers at the wrong guy.” Asher raises his hands defensively. 

“Well, it wasn’t me either. Only Amanda and Arden listened to her.” 

“Didn’t Christian request the DJ to play Paper Rings at our wedding?” Babe tilts their head in wonder, breaking their concentration away from the photo. 

“I’d love to see you in that getup now, darlin’.” Sam chuckles against Tank’s ear.

“You’ll have to dig in my closet for it. I’m not even sure I still own that.” They laugh to themselves, suddenly nostalgic for their high school days. 

“I have a question: whatever happened between you two?” Sweetheart inquires, looking between the past couple. There wasn’t a trace of jealousy in their voice, their aura, just pure curiosity. 

“I think it was just a summer fling. By the time graduation came around, neither of us felt that mate connection with each other. So what was the point of pursuing it, you know?” Tank nods along to Milo’s brief explanation as if they were mentally checking off every word. 

“Ooh, ooh! Remember how good the punch was?” Ash interrupts. 

“I’m surprised you remember. You had half the bowl.” Says Milo. 

“So?” Asher replies. The three all choke back laughter. 

“The shit was practically jungle juice! I could taste seven different liquors from one sip. And I’m pretty sure David escorted you to the locker rooms 'cause you were about to hurl.” Tank says. 

“The locker rooms, huh? Did you two happen to share a dance…one of the slow variety?” Milo quirks an eyebrow. 

“...it’s a possibility,” David mumbles with a scowl. Everybody on the couch begins giggling mischievously. “Wasn’t my fault the little shit wouldn’t let me drive him home because Hey There Delilah started playing. Anyway, it was barely a slow dance, he was just leaning on me the whole time whining about how nauseous he felt.”

“Hope y’all left room for Jesus in that gym,” Babe smirks. 

“I think I also shared a slow dance with uh…Kathy Boone? No, Karly B–”

“Karly Brown! As in our classmate in the third period, Karly Brown? So, you technically went to prom with Karly Brown?” Tank leans forward on the loveseat occupied by them and Sam, who’s now invested in his mate’s eager tone. 

"Two slow dances with two different people? On the same night? You little slut!" Angel hisses teasingly. 

"I can't believe I got Karly Brown's sloppy seconds," Asher whines. I thought what we had was special, Davey!" The alpha chooses to ignore their pestering in favor of Tank's question. 

“In a way, I g-guess.” David shrugs. “Why?”

“You two owe me twenty bucks!” They declare. "Suck it!" 

[neege]

Wolfstar Lesbian Prom AU

Umm, so this is the first time I've ever really written anything for fun, and especially for a fandom space, so please be gentle 💓

Basically, I've been sitting on this idea of Remus trying to impress Sirius by getting all dressed up for the Prom, and I thought I'd just be brave and write it myself!! This is really short and I might write more later.

Also: since I only really have knowledge of US highschools and proms, that's kind of the setting this takes place in—my apologies if this bothers you!

Remus's legs ached from where she was folded up on the bathroom floor before the mirror. She examined her reflection in the mirror—her hair frizzy in some places, wet in others. There was currently only one curl on her head that had come out decent, but it was now crunchy from the copious amount of hairspray that was used to keep it in tact. Now it just looked fake. Like creepy plastic doll hair. 

Remus felt tears of frustration sting her eyes, and squeezed them closed before remembering that she'd applied mascara, and that it was probably all smudged now. 

She unplugged the curling iron from the socket—useless fucking thing—before starting at the sound of a knock on the door. 

"Remus? All good in there? It's been over an hour-" Remus yanked open the door from where she sat on the ground, and twisted herself to face Lily's expression fighting itself into a neutral one.

"Lily I'm begging you to fix me!" Remus turned back to gesture frantically at herself in the mirror, "I look horrible! I look like maybe I used to look fine, but then got stuck in a washing machine. And then a dryer."

God, this is all Sirius's fault...

She felt herself get worked-up again turned back to Lily—who gently pulled Remus's hands away from where she was frantically trying to rub off the smudgy mascara. She gave her most reassuring—least reassuring—smile before speaking.

"Remus, look at me—it'll be fine! Hop in the shower really quick and wash your face, and I'll finish getting ready so I can help you with your hair and makeup, okay?" Remus sniffled a little pathetically, but nodded, "Plus we still have about an hour and a half until we need to leave for the Potters, we have plenty of time to get you all pretty!" 

Ah, Remus thought, leaving for the Potters.

To pick up James and Pete.

And Sirius. 

Jesus. 

Because that was the whole thing wasn't it? Remus didn't just wake up one day with the deranged idea to spend her free Saturday in an uncomfortable dress, with uncomfortable hair—can hair be uncomfortable?—dancing awkwardly around a hot, stuffy gym with people who she doesn't even like that much—who don't even like her...

She's not doing this for the memories—she's not Lily fucking Evans!

No, this can all be blamed on the only person who could ever make Remus participate in something so far out of her comfort zone, she can't even see it anymore. 

It started with Sirius—newly gay and newly kicked-out of her parents house—slowly getting comfortable enough to start talking girls with the one and only James Potter.

In fact, it was nearly two whole months ago when Remus first heard the words that would inevitably lead to her losing the weak, frail grip she still had on her remaining sanity: 

Emma Pierce is pretty hot don't you think?

[seeminglydark]

Nothing went wrong, he was never arrested and finished school, they moved out at 18 and cut their hair and changed their name to Angel and he still uses Sully and supports their baby steps to transition, they went to senior Prom together, wore sneakers, and all is right with the world.

[sugarspikesart]

Punk sherry goes to prom!!

Watch me actively ignore the RE canon and make Sherry go to an actual highschool in the 2000s and make her wear the 2000s prom dres™ while being punk so she does the dress+boots combo and then also wear Claire's jacket because it's cold outside

[underworldxkisses]

my first 'technical' post on here <3

just jason and nico making out, and yes I'm fully aware this isn't solangelo.

[ancientevangelions]

[karizard-ao3]

PROM AU SLAPS

How do you even come up with all this? 😭 Seriously it's so good! *Slamming my first on the table!*

Can I suggest that: all boys try their luck asking her to prom, but she rejects them. She wants to be prom queen and, despite being realistic enough to know Shinji's not the perfect candidate for king, she at least wants him to ask her? Tries to charm him (That pool scene comes to mind). Shinji seems very ambivalent because he wants to go but is afraid of connecting with people that way, you know? (The cinema scene comes to mind). Shinji thinks she's not really interested in him, she thinks he's not interested in her, teenage misunderstandings.

Oh! Should we have a touching moment old Misato teaching Shinji how to dance, or could this be some much needed opening with Asuka?

Oh, so maybe she can be complaining about how there's no one good enough to go with, and she's going to need to craft the perfect prom date, and that's when Hikari is like, "Hee hee hee what about Shinji? He's such a loser, I bet you can't." That doesn't actually seem like Hikari, so I think we'd want to soften that up, but it would be along those lines.

So perhaps are we thinking that instead of out and out inviting Shinji to prom, Asuka simply tells him she's going to get him looking good enough to get a date for prom, then realizes she wants him to take her, and goes about trying to win him over? He wants to ask her but is too shy? WHAT IF THEY ALMOST GO WITH OTHER PEOPLE?

Perhaps! Misato teaches them both to dance like you suggested! And then! She steps out for a minute and that is when Shinji asks Asuka to prom? Like, she's kind of let her guard down for a moment and that's when Shinji suddenly feels brave enough to swoop in!!!!

BEGIN SCENE!

"For someone who loves music, you have no rhythm!" Asuka snapped, grinding her teeth together as Shinji stepped on her foot yet again.

"Sorry!" he winced.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. He was always sorry, but he never changed. Asuka couldn't take it anymore. "Stop apologizing and stop stepping on my feet!" she ordered.

"Okay, sorry," said Shinji.

Asuka stared stonily over his shoulder. "You're so hopeless," she said. "I don't know why I agreed to make you over so you could get a prom date."

Shinji stopped dancing. "I didn't ask and you didn't really give me a choice!" he said. "You walked up, called me a charity case, and said you were going to cure me of my loseritis by getting me a date to prom."

Asuka's nostrils flared. "Well, you could have said no!"

Shinji shook his head, beginning to spin her around to the music again. Asuka bristled. Why was he so passive? Why wouldn't he look at her? She had taken extra care with her makeup this afternoon, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him when he came over for the dance lesson Misato had offered to give them, but all he had said was, "You look nice, Asuka!" in that mild, pleasant way he had. He didn't care. Not like she did.

He was looking down at their feet, frowning to himself and counting the beats under his breath. Misato had stepped out to take a phone call, and they were all alone. Just the two of them. A boy and girl, standing mere inches apart. He had one hand on her waist and the other folded around hers, dwarfing it. He had surprisingly big hands, callused on the left fingertips from his cello strings. She had become painfully aware of him in the past weeks, an ache made all the more excruciating by how oblivious he was to her.

Ask me to prom, she pleaded silently, closing her eyes as if sightlessness would amplify her wish. Please don't go with someone else.

When she opened her eyes, Shinji was watching her.

"Are you okay, Asuka?" he asked. "Does your head hurt?"

"Why would my head hurt?" she scoffed.

"I don't know," said Shinji, his gaze skittering away from her. "You looked... I don't know."

The brief conversation died and Asuka wanted to die, too. Why couldn't she be more like Hikari? Would he like her better if she were sweet and uncomplicated?

"Hey, Asuka?" said Shinji.

"Yeah?"

"So... Who am I supposed to go to prom with?" he asked, looking at her like a puppy with his head ducked down. "You're doing all this stuff to my hair and my clothes, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do about it."

This was probably her best chance. She could tell him to ask her and he would do it. He always did what he was told.

"Just ask who you want, idiot," she sighed. But want me.

Shinji was quiet for a moment. "Can I go with you?" he asked.

Asuka snorted. "Doesn't that seem like taking the easy way out? Asking me instead of a girl you're interested in?"

Shinji reddened, his hand tightening around hers. "This isn't easy," he said. "And I am asking a girl I'm interested in."

Asuka froze.

"If you don't want to go with me, just say so," said Shinji, glaring down at the ground, adding in a softer voice, "I shouldn't have asked." He let go of her, stepping back. "Sorry."

Asuka grabbed his wrist. "Stop apologizing," she ordered.

Shinji shrugged. "Sor-"

"I'll go with you," said Asuka, breathlessly, before he could change his mind. "I'll be your date."

END SCENE

And then of course their poor communication, opposite personalities, and self-doubt will continue to wreak havoc on their prom journey, but for now things are good.

It was really different writing their characters when I'm so used to doing Eremika and other AOT characters, so this was a fun little exercise. Didn't proofread. Spent way too much time on it. I think it turned out okay, though.

[canyonmooningg]

our song

pairing: ex boyfriend! harry x y/n

summary: harry approaches you at your senior prom

word count: 3k

____________________________________________

You watched from your seat at one of the many tables that lined the dance floor as a multitude of couples danced to the loud music blaring from the speakers. Your senior prom was in full swing, and while everyone was laughing and having a great night, you were sitting away from the crowd, zoning in and out of consciousness as your gaze landed on your ex boyfriend, dancing with his date for the night. 

“Are you cold?” 

The voice of your current boyfriend, Marcus, brought you back to reality. He had his coat outstretched to you, awaiting your reply. 

“Huh? Oh, no I’m okay Marcus, but thank you. I would love a drink though”

“Sure thing, I’ll be right back!”

Poor thing, you thought. Marcus was a sweetheart, more so now that he was even willing to accompany you to your prom, despite being a few years older than you and well into college. You started dating him fairly soon after you and Harry broke up four months ago, and has been a great boyfriend in every way–the only problem was, he wasn’t Harry. 

You and Harry had only been together for six months, but you tortured each other ever since. Heated glances from across the classroom, being put in the same groups for presentations, ending up at the same parties–no matter how much you wanted to keep your distance from him, he was always there. You were head over heels in love with him, and was devastated when he broke up with you, claiming he wanted to “focus on school” or his job or whatever excuse he gave. Still to this day you never knew why he ended it, but it broke your heart. Since then it seemed that your feelings for him never stopped, despite him dating girl after girl in the months since and you meeting Marcus. Marcus was a needed distraction from Harry-–the only problem was, he wasn’t distracting enough. 

Your eyes found Harry and his new girl, Sarah, swaying to one of the slower songs the DJ played occasionally throughout the night. From the corner of your eye you could see Marcus coming back with two drinks in hand, one for him and one for you. Just as Marcus got to your table, Harry’s eyes met yours in an intense stare. As much as you wanted to look away, his eyes were almost daring you to stay on his. His eyes scanned your frame as he pulled Sarah even closer to him, her back facing you as they slowly swayed to the music. It was clear they were having a conversation, because you could see him smile at something she said, but his eyes never left yours. You felt a chill go down your spine at the feeling of being watched so intently and you shifted slightly in your seat, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Marcus made the decision for you, as you were the first to break the stare when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

“Here’s that drink, did you want to dance at all tonight?”

You felt bad for him, as you had been sitting most of the night. Dances weren’t really your style. Your feet would always hurt, and there were always so many people on the dance floor that your claustrophobia would inevitably kick in. You only went to dances to socialize with your friends, but tonight your friends were out on the dance floor with their dates, likely capitalizing on their last prom before they graduate. Your eyes flitted to where Harry was but he was walking off the dance floor and making his way to the DJ, probably to request some song Sarah wanted to hear.

“Sure, let’s go.” You took a final swig of your drink before leaving the table and making your way to the dance floor. 

Finding a space between the other couples, you and Marcus began to sway with the music, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. Yet again, as if he was haunting you, Harry and Sarah were right behind Marcus, and your eyes found his green ones once more. It almost seemed like he was angry with you with how intense his eyes seemed, but when his eyes moved down to your chest you realized it was not anger but longing. Suddenly the room felt very hot as you tried valiantly to listen to whatever Marcus was saying to you, something about his friend from work maybe? You had stopped listening long ago. You looked down to take in Harry’s black suit, with the buttons of his white collared shirt underneath slightly undone to reveal his staple gold cross necklace. You were just beginning to make out the twin swallow tattoos on his chest—the same ones you went with him to get immediately after he turned 18—when a new song started that had you frozen in place. 

It was your song. The song he played for you every time he took you home from school. The song he played during your car makeout sessions. The song he played when you failed your math test and cried in his arms. It was the very same song playing in the background when he told you he loved you for the first time.

You felt incredibly overwhelmed now, and as your mind was racing with the bittersweet memories this song brought back to you, you noticed Harry leave a very confused Sarah and make his way over to where you and Marcus were. It was almost as if Harry forgot about Marcus’s existence completely when he approached you and lightly grabbed your arm and without saying a word, pulled you from Marcus, and pulled you tightly into his arms. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was a wonder you were still able to stand up. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck as his arms held your hips impossibly close to his own. His eyes seemed to bore into your soul, and as the song carried on, his eyes flicked down to your lips. He seemed to get closer and closer and before your brain could catch up to what was happening in the moment, his lips ghosted over yours. You could barely breathe, and before he could finally press his lips to yours, you pulled back and came to your senses.

“What are you doing, Harry?” you asked breathlessly. You hated how easily flustered he made you, and how quick you were to abandon Marcus just because Harry wanted you. 

“I’m dancing,” you heard him say with amusement. He leaned impossibly close to your ear and whispered, “This is our song, remember?”

His voice sent chills down your body and for a second you couldn’t form a single thought. The sheer proximity of his body to yours had you struggling to think clearly. Suddenly, you remembered earlier in the night when Harry had gone up to the DJ. You put the pieces together, and suddenly realized:

“It was you, wasn’t it? You requested our song” you said in an accusing whisper.

“Ah, so you do remember!” he replied tauntingly. “You’ve had my attention all night, I had to do something to get you in my arms.”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Clearly he doesn’t want me if he was the one who broke up with me in the first place, you thought to yourself, getting more confused as you continue to sway with him.

“Harry, you were the one who broke up with me!” Has he lost his mind? You thought to yourself.

“Yeah”, he started, “But it doesn’t change the fact I still want you.”

By now, his face was so close to your own that you could feel his warm breath on your face, and the tips of your noses were so close that any movement forward and they would touch. He continued:

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I thought I could get over you, but I can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried.” He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for you to understand what he was trying to say. When it was clear to him that you still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you, he began again:

“Nobody can ever measure up to who you were to me, and” he looked at you earnestly as he tried to find the right words to say. “And, I was a fool for trying.”

Your head was spinning with his sudden confession. What is he saying? You thought to yourself. Is he saying he’s sorry? Is he saying he still loves me and wants to be with me again? Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, and that this is too little too late. But the other part of you–the part of you who has never stopped loving him despite the fact he broke your heart–is begging you to cave and take him back. 

Your train of thought is interrupted by the feeling of Harry’s hand lifting up your chin to meet his eyes. He looks nervous, more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks at you, waiting for you to say anything in response to what he said. You manage to stumble out something while trying to calm your butterflies at the feeling of Harry touching your face. 

“Harry, I–” you start, forgetting what you were going to say the minute you began. You try again. “I–”

“Y/N do you still love me?” Harry interrupted.

You couldn’t believe what he just asked you. Why was he doing this here? Right now? In front of everybody? Including our dates?! What is he thinking??

“Because I still love you, Y/N. Never stopped,” he rushed out anxiously. “I was afraid before, and thought maybe I was just obsessed with you and that it was a phase I would grow out of, and that it was better for both of us if I ended things before you got hurt, but–”

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“‘Before you got hurt’?” you threw his own words back at him. “Harry, I was devastated! You hurt me more than you could ever imagine! I loved you and you just left me.” You saw that Harry looked surprised by your sudden venom, evidently not expecting you to react this way, but you could see the sadness in his eyes that told you that he knew you were right. 

“Of course I still love you, I never stopped loving you,” you continued, reaching your hand from around his neck into his hair, playing absentmindedly with one of his brown curls. “But if you were able to hurt me while you still loved me, how will I know you won’t do it again?” You say, softer this time. 

Before Harry could respond, your song ended and the DJ came on the mic to announce that the next song would be the slow dance song. You immediately recognized the beginning sounds of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and as Elvis crooned out the lyrics to what had to be your favorite song of all time, Harry brought his hand from your waist to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. 

“I’m sorry for the hurt I caused you,” he started, looking intently into your eyes. “I guess I just want you to know how much I love you, and how every time I hear our song, or see a couple walking down the street, or even when I lay in bed every night, I–” he faltered. “I always think about you. I miss you so much, Y/N, and I guess…” he said, with his eyes beginning to tear up a bit. “I guess I just wanted you to know that.”

“Why now?” you ask. “Why are you only doing this now, when we’ve been broken up for months, and when I’m with somebody else and happy with them?” 

“But are you?” he questioned.

“Am I what?” you reply, confused at what he could be playing at now.

“Are you happy? With him” he turned his head slightly to glance behind him to where Marcus now sat with Sarah, both visibly upset and annoyed at their night ending this way. 

Am I happy with Marcus? You thought to yourself. He’s incredibly sweet, and kind, and while your feelings for him weren’t the same as they were for Harry, Marcus was stable and made you feel secure. 

Your lack of response encouraged Harry to press on:

“Does he make you happy like I made you happy? Do you feel with him what you felt with me? Does he—” he swallowed and looked down to your lips for a split second before returning to look into your eyes with a desperate look. “Does he kiss you like I kissed you?” 

Your eyes widen in shock and before you can respond, he cups your face in both of his hands and pleads, “Y/N please, just—” You notice that his eyes are glossier now than before. Is he starting to cry? You briefly think to yourself before he continues his thought, stumbling through his words. “Just, just love me please. I’m lost without you, and seeing you with him I– I just couldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry for being an idiot. I h-hope you can trust me again and trust me when I say I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

By now his curls had fallen slightly in front of his face and a tear was threatening to run down his cheek. Seeing him this upset and feelings laid bare for you was overwhelming. It made the part of you that was still hurt after Harry broke up with you feel vindicated that he was crawling back to you in this way, but there is this small voice in your head that is getting louder and louder with each of Harry’s assurances of his love that was telling you that this just isn’t right.

“Harry, are you only doing this because you are jealous of Marcus? Because if this is just because you feel possessive of me then I don’t think—”

“I promise you, it’s not that” he interrupted. “Well, it’s not only because of that I guess” he chuckled to himself nervously. “I guess I just realized that if I spend every waking minute of my life only thinking of you then it means I’m ruined for anyone else, and you are the only one I’ll ever love.”

His confession had your heart fluttering and had you at a loss of words. Everything in you wanted to be back with him, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure that he’d change his mind in a few months and break your heart again.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind later” you whisper, cautious of how true his intentions were. 

“I won’t, please…” his face inching closer to yours, now overwhelmingly close to your face. 

For a moment, you almost close the gap and finally kiss him. After all, this is what you have wanted, right? You’ve been looking longingly at him ever since he broke up with you, have been jealous of all the girls he’d kiss in the parking lot after school, and haven’t given 100% in your relationship with Marcus simply because you were still hung up on this love you had with Harry that you saw as being perfect. So why were you feeling so uneasy? 

You glance behind Harry’s shoulder, and see Marcus sitting down at your table with his head in his hands. In an instant, your heart broke. Marcus seemed so hurt at the prospect of you going to someone else, and it dawned on you that Harry actively tried to hurt you by flaunting all those different girls in front of you these past 6 months. Anytime you were anywhere near him, he made sure to put his arm over whatever girl he was with at the time and look at you intentionally, almost trying to provoke you or make you feel bad about yourself. Marcus would never do that. Everything he did was to help you and to make you feel like you were worthy of love. 

Before Harry could lean forward any closer, you immediately pull back, and get your hands away from his neck. His eyes widened in surprise, almost as if he didn’t expect you to stand up for yourself. 

“Y/N…” he tried.

“No, Harry” you interrupt him, full of clarity. “I’m not falling for this. If you wanted me, if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have left me and you certainly wouldn’t have rubbed it in my face with every new girl you would wave in front of me. Goodbye, Harry.”

You left a confused and desperate Harry on the dance floor, and you could hear him call your name in a last ditch effort to convince you to come back to him. 

You make your way to Marcus, still sitting at your table, and grab his arm gently. You softly say in his ear, “I have to get out of here, let’s go.” He looked up at you, with slightly teary eyes, in confusion. 

“I thought you were going off with him,” he replied solemnly and glanced over to Harry, who was now off the dance floor and in a heated argument with Sarah. 

“No, he and I are done,” you assured him. “He won’t ever get between us again, Marcus, and I’m sorry for letting it go so far.” 

Marcus seemed to understand, and replied, “Let’s get out of here, and we can talk about it when we aren’t around so many people, okay?”

You remembered just how introverted Marcus was, and how he was probably stressed out the whole night just because of how many people were around. It dawned on you how much he had to step out of his comfort zone just to come with you tonight. Yet another reason why you made the right choice.

“Okay” you replied, latching onto his arm and glancing one last time at Harry, who was already staring at you with a defeated look in his eyes. You look back to Marcus and smile, and tell him:

“Lead the way.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading, please like, reblog, and comment if you liked it :)

-K

[asushin-mermaid-au-ask-blog]

I haven't got any of the prom AU prompts that other AsuShin writers have gotten but I've seen other people's prom AUs and I have some thoughts.

I really like the idea of the normal relatively low stakes teen drama of asking someone out to prom

but like I think instead of like American prom I feel like Tokyo 3 would have like a 'we've survived another year of angel attacks' party which would be much less formal but still the biggest teenage social event of the year

So I feel like Hikari as a famous class rep is the one who gets tapped to organize the party when the main cast get to high school and of course she's such a straight arrow there's no drinking and no smoking and it's totally enforced.

Hikari is the one to invite Toji as her date to no one's surprise.

At first everyone thinks it's a given that Shinji, Asuka and Rei won't be attending since they'll have to be on call in case of an angel attack but Misato is okay with them going as long as they understand they might have to leave.

Then everyone just assumes that Shinji and Asuka will be going as a couple but no one tells them

Shinji really stresses out about inviting Asuka and almost gives up until he hears that Kensuke is also stressing out about inviting Asuka and so he does

Asuka accepts only if she can find Shinji something decent to wear as her date which means a shopping trip and Shinji ending up in some kind of Unit 1 purple tie and vest to go with Asuka's fancy red party dress.

Asuka also ends up getting Rei something nice to wear.

The actual party is pretty awkard since it's a bunch of teenagers celebrating the end of the school year but Shinji and Asuka dance together and everyone gets to see them in total sync.

[dogdayisgoodboy101]

prom au created!

@ask-prom-au-blog

I'll make one that has the canon critters soon!

[supernovajazzy-art]

I re-created/re-drew one of Barbie's 1988 Valentines Days cards, but with my oc Olivia and Michael ❤️

[neege]

Lesbian Wolfstar Prom AU

I did it!!!! I uploaded my first work to AO3!!!!! It's just the same stuff I already posted here, just combined and edited a little bit. I decided to title it A Night to Remember because it reminds me of high school musical 3 ❤️

Let me know if you see any errors or anything since I'm still really kinda learning the site

[aelloposchrysopterus]

Ballroom Dancing and Other Monsters

Bang hates fancy parties. She hates formal etiquette. She really hates anything where she can’t solve her problems with knives, ideally in someone else’s body. But she was going to suffer through — the horrors — prom because Violetta and Zeetha wanted to go, and she wasn’t going to be a lousy friend. (She also didn’t want Gil to go alone, which would have happened, since Agatha refused to go, Tarvek was going with Violetta, Xerxesphina was Colette’s date, and Zeetha had her mysterious boyfriend, and Klaus had told his son that he was going, whether he wanted to or not.)

Bang, above all, hates formal dresses. She’d called Tarvek to find an outfit for her. He’d thought she was going to try to kill him, but when it became clear that she’d kill him if he didn’t get her a dress, he made sure to find a very pretty one for her. It was a lovely cream with crimson beadwork on the bodice, spaghetti straps, an A-line full skirt, and a deep V-neck. She did have to admit that she felt pretty in it, even if it did make her vulnerable.

“Eep,” she yelped as Zeetha zipped it up.

“Thought you were invulnerable to pain,” Zeetha remarked.

“I’m not invulnerable to having all the air squeezed out of my chest!” Bang almost reached for a knife but stopped herself. Zeetha is a friend. She means well.

“Okay, Zeetha, try to murder me now,” Violetta laughed. She was in a deep purple off-the-shoulder dress with a tiered tulle skirt. Another Tarvek selection.

Zeetha obliged, yanking Violetta’s zipper up. She was wearing a golden mermaid dress that glistened in the light, with heels and bracelets the same hue of green as her hair. Tarvek hadn’t had any hand in her outfit; she’d picked it out herself. (He had almost been insulted that she hadn’t consulted him.)

“Are we ready to party?” Zeetha asked, rolling the r in a flamboyant manner. “Come on, the limo’s waiting outside!”

“The… limo?” Was not expecting this. Bang awkwardly laughed.

Zeetha rolled her eyes. “We’re picking up the boys in style, gals!” She grabbed Bang and Zeetha by the arms and yanked them outside, plopping them in the limo. “First stop, Tarvek!”

Tarvek was waiting for them when they got to his house. He hurriedly jumped into the limo — Bang could tell that he was worried about his father and his sister trying to stop him. His father was controlling to an extreme and his sister was… ill. She knew his home life wasn’t great, which was why she felt a twinge of guilt each time she stabbed him.

“Hey, Tarvek, if you need somewhere to stay tonight, my place is yours,” she said.

He jumped up in his seat. “Thanks! I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks anyhow!” He was wearing a purple suit that matched Violetta’s dress exactly, with a purple and blue tie and a blue pocket square. The blue was Wulfenbach blue. Don’t say a thing. Let him pine on his own. He idly adjusted his cufflinks.

“So, Zeetha, who’s getting picked up next?” Violetta asked, fiddling with her amethyst necklace.

Zeetha smiled. “Gil, of course.”

“If he’s in anything other than green, blue, and purple, it’ll be a miracle,” Tarvek muttered.

“Oh, Tarvek!” Zeetha giggled. “Don’t worry. I made sure he got a suit. It’s black, with a cream shirt and a red tie and pocket square. It matches Bang perfectly!”

Tarvek breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Zeetha. A weight has truly been lifted off my shoulder.”

Bang suddenly realized that the beads on her dress were the same shade of red as Tarvek’s hair.

At Wulfenbach’s, Gil leapt out of the house in the suit Zeetha had bought for him, bounding into the car like an excitable puppy. He flopped down next to Bang, who noted that his new shoes were scuffed up already. Tarvek saw the exact same thing and tossed some black shoe polish towards Gil.

“You’ll need to open the window while applying that,” Tarvek said.

“You had this on you?” Gil asked, incredulous.

Tarvek shrugged. “A well groomed man is always prepared… your cuffs are sewn together, aren’t they?”

“It’s better that than Gil losing a cufflink again!” Zeetha retorted. “Remember when he did that in front of Queen Albia? The Baron was embarrassed for years.”

“Hey,” Gil rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who showed up in traditional Skifandrian attire to the wedding of one of Albia’s daughters and nearly gave her a heart attack.”

The siblings looked like they were about to punch each other for a second, but the situation defused itself. Good, that’s one more time I won’t have to patch up Gil’s outfit tonight. Zeetha slouched back in her seat as Gil rested his right leg on his left.

“Who’s next?” Violetta eagerly asked.

Zeetha tensed. “I hate to do this,” she said, “but please keep this under wraps. He’s a Jager.”

“What?” Gil turned to his sister. “Dad’s going to kill you! And how did you let the prom committee to give a guest pass to a Jager?”

She twiddled her thumbs. “I pulled some strings, and Dad doesn’t need to know about it. For what it’s worth, Mom approved. He’s a nice guy, not any fangier than I am, just, y’know, immortal. I met him at the MMA gym.” She sighed. “His name’s Axel Higgs.”

The car was silent.

“Zeetha has a boyfriend! Good job, girl!” Violetta yelled.

The mysterious Axel Higgs was picked up outside a defense contractor’s office headquarters. His suit was a distinguished ecru, with a pale golden shirt and a green tie and pocket square. He carried himself with an air of dignity and refinement. A man of many hats.

Nobody said anything when he entered the limo. He smiled at them. No fangs. He sat next to Zeetha, who silently wrapped an arm around him.

“Should we, uh, do introductions?” Bang asked.

Zeetha grinned a fangy smile. “Yeah, sure! Do you want to start?”

“Okay,” Bang said. “I’m Bang Dupree. It’s short for Bangladesh. I met Zeetha last year, I think, at a karate tournament. Our match was a draw because the refs stopped us before one of us killed the other.”

“Gil Wulfenbach, short for Gilgamesh. I’m Zeetha’s long-lost twin brother. Our parents are divorced, so I’m stuck living with our dad, who’s some high-up in the defense industry.”

��Violetta Mondarev. I met Zeetha in our film class. We were watching The Princess Bride and we bonded over the inaccuracies in the fight scenes and the poisoning scene.”

“Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Violetta’s cousin. I’m not really all that close with Zeetha — I’m a friend of Gil’s and I’m close with my cousin, so I run into her a lot, but we’ve never really hung out.” Gil blushed at “friend”.

“Axel Higgs, Zeetha’s boyfriend and Jager. I wish I could tell you more about me, but that’s unfortunately classified information.”

Violetta and Tarvek were waltzing respectably well. He’s an excellent dancer — of course he is — and she’d learned from him. She was holding her skirt up just right, and when she twirled, it was glorious. Tarvek’s pince-nez gave them the general impression of being a relic from the Victorian era.

Colette and Xerxesphina were dancing quite well, too. They were enjoying the quick tempo of the Viennese waltz, taking advantage of it to twirl about the dance floor in a modified grapevine step. This was neatly avoiding the question of who was really in the lead.

Zeetha and Higgs were in such a close embrace that it was a surprise they were able to move at all, but moving they were. Their technique was subpar, particularly when compared to Tarvek’s meticulous footwork, but they were in tune with each other in a way that almost no other couple was.

Gil and Bang, on the other hand, were miserably failing at dancing. It wasn’t just the waltz. The saraband had been such a disaster that Tarvek had broken etiquette to whisk Bang off to dance with her while Violetta attempted to instill the basics in Gil. It didn’t help matters that Gil seemed to have two left feet.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Could you at least try a bit harder?”

“Why should I keep trying when you’re the one who’s blundering the moves?”

Gil looked like he was ten seconds away from being arrested for attempted murder. “How about you think of this as a monster you want to kill?”

“Already trying,” she said. And it’s not working.

Later, they were all taking a break from dancing. Colette and Xerxesphina had gone off to “brush up their makeup”. More like “brush up on making out”. Tarvek was fixing his tie knot — his Eldredge had become asymmetrical, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Gil and Higgs were enjoying discussing Jager history.

This meant that Bang, Violetta, and Zeetha were sitting at a table, drinking Arnold Palmers and munching on cake, chatting a little bit as they pleased to. Zeetha was a bit pissed that her brother was monopolizing her boyfriend (“especially since he’s got his own boyfriend here, too”), while Violetta was complaining about how sore her feet were (“with him, it’s always aesthetic over function, and it’s not like he’s ever tried dancing in these shoes”). Bang was just fiddling with her straw, listening to her friends.

She was also the first one to notice the monster when it came crashing through the ceiling.

“Guys. Look.” She gently shoved Violetta and Zeetha. “Is that just me, or is that something we can fight?”

“Oh yeah,” Zeetha’s eyes glazed over as their classmates began screaming. “Let’s go fight this thing.” She snatched one of Violetta’s shoes and snapped the heel off. “It’s improvised weapons time!”

Violetta took her other shoe and snapped its heel off, while Bang took an entire table leg. Zeetha passed the other heel to Violetta to grab an entire chair. Violetta complemented her heels by taking a hair pin out of a nearby dancer’s coiffure.

The Fighting Girls Tea and Cake Society started running after the monster, ready to take it down.

Maybe formal dances aren’t all so bad.

Read on AO3.

[magurosnacks]

sketchbook dump

[sugarspikesart]

"But mostly I hate the way I dont hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all"