#fingers crossed lmfao

[wrixie]

introducing jewels olevera!

[causeimanartist]

Totally not projecting onto Bruce, nope

[essektheylyss]

you are a small child in a critical role show. they told you your mother is dead and you don't know that she is alive but has become something beyond your recognition but simultaneously a mirror image of the woman she once was. your father tried to protect you before he too was taken away in a horrific act of violence that destroyed your home, and you were left behind to be cared for by someone else, and were ferried away to the distant, well-off parent of a group of weirdos who are trying to rescue your mom.

your name is lucas.

[femmeetart]

Juliette is very good at hide and seek

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 13: širdies

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2.2k a/n: this one is a bit smaller than usual and it's a lil uneventful. kind of a filler chapter as i set grounds for the next one lmao first|next

You're not exactly sure when you fell asleep - well, more than likely, passed out, but when you woke up, you found yourself in your room at Pops’ house. It makes sense Marco brought you here. You probably weren't safe in your own place. You had no idea who would come after you or even if anyone would come after you. People didn’t typically know where Pops’ lived and he’s been out of the scene long enough that they should leave him alone for the most part.

You just hoped that they wouldn’t drag him into your mess like you had everyone else.

That, and being alone probably wasn't the best idea. This way Marco could keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't run off. He was well aware of your bad habits; take just the other night for example. He didn’t want to have to hunt you down again. He’d already done that once this week. You only did it once in a blue moon, but this way he could prevent it from happening in the same week. 

You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you , but it was dark outside. You rolled over and glanced to your tableside; the clock read three in the morning and your phone laid there with a shattered screen. You didn’t even bother trying to see if it worked. Who did you have to get a hold of right now? All you needed was Pops and Marco and they were both in this house. You’d replace it eventually.

But not right now. 

The events replayed in your head. You hoped everyone was able to make it out okay. As much as you didn’t trust Doflamingo or your own father now; Crocodile seemed like the kind of man who would at least keep his end of a bargain. If not, you would unleash hell. You had no problem taking all of them down or die trying.

After all, you had nothing left to lose now.

You sighed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. What were you to do now? You didn’t have the hospital. You had gotten Corazon shot. You dragged innocent people into your own mess that you created by being an absolute idiot. 

Why did you think you could have it all? Leaving your father’s family and still keeping a good relationship with him? Being able to have the hospital but also aiding those who were injured and helping others escape from the hell that was that lifestyle with no consequence? 

You were Icarus and flew too close to the sun. Everything you had worked so hard for - gone in an instant.

You felt a headache come forth and you knew you’d cry if you had any tears left at this point. Exhaustion was creeping back into your very being. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep.

--

The following week, you hardly left your room or your bed. Hell, you hardly even ate. You just didn't have the energy to do anything besides sleep. When you were awake, you were plagued by your own thoughts of what happened and how you have nothing now. It just wasn't something you could deal with - you still had a hard time believing it. It was easier to sleep - especially when you didn’t even dream. It was just an endless black void and you welcomed it with open arms.

Marco basically had to drag you out of bed to make you shower, but you went right back into bed afterwards. He tried to talk to you, as did Pops, but you didn't provide much of a conversation, so they both ended up just leaving you alone for the most part. 

You heard the door open and the smell of food. It made you sick to your stomach, but one could also argue that you probably felt that way because you haven't been eating. “I’m not hungry, Marco,” you mumbled from your blanket cocoon.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you might say that,” a voice mumbled that was very much not Marco - or Pops for that matter.

You sat up quickly, squinting in the dark room to see who it was. You recognized his voice, but you just couldn't believe it for some reason. 

“Rosinante?”

You felt your face heat up and honestly you didn't know why. Quickly, you turned on the lamp on your bedside, hissing at the light. You’d hardly seen any in the last week anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I might have begged Marco to let me come visit…” The man made his way over to you and that feeling struck you again. You went to move to catch him, only to get tangled up in your blankets and crash to the floor the same time he did. 

“Ah, fuck.” You slowly pushed your way up off the ground, only to realize something.

You froze in place the moment you sat up and realized he was under you. Your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to move off of him. “Are you okay?”

You remembered his wound, sitting back slightly and lifting his shirt without thinking. “How are you healing?” 

“If you wanted me alone in your room with my shirt off you could've just asked,” he teased, nervously grinning at you with red cheeks. Your eyes widened and you covered your face. 

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry.” For fuck’s sake. A week was all it took for you to forget how to interact with others? 

He slowly sat up, chuckling as he did so. You slid into his lap as he moved, not removing your hands. You were too embarrassed to even look at the man.

He removed your hands from your face and you looked up at him, face red. “I'm healing fine, thank you.” His expression was soft as he took your face in his hands with a gentle smile. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, heart beginning to run wild.

“Are you okay?” 

Then it was as if the floodgates opened. So much for thinking that you ran out of tears because you had plenty now as they started falling down your face. Dammit. Doesn’t he know that he’s not supposed to ask a question like that? 

“I'm so sorry, Rosinante,” you said softly. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this.” You pulled your face out of his hands only for them to find your face again so you had to look at him. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Look at me.” His gentle demand made your heart lurch and your gaze shifted to him in surprise.

His expression was still soft, tone still gentle. “You didn’t drag me into anything, y/n.” 

“Y-Yes, I did.” You hiccuped slightly from your sobs. “You were out. You were free from all of this. I shouldn’t have even tried to entertain the idea of us. I should’ve known it’d be dangerous. I’m so-”

“Y/n.” You stopped, sniffling as you looked up at him. 

“None of that is your fault. You didn’t know that your own father would betray you.” Marco had filled him in on all the details of what had actually happened, unbeknownst to you. “You didn’t know that he was going to team up with my brother. You didn’t know they’d take over your hospital and use us as collateral.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Yes. I got out, but I also know that things can catch up with me at any moment, just as you do. One can never really leave this life and all that, right?” You just looked at him, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t know why he wasn’t mad at you. He was just…so kind and you didn’t understand. It just felt like it’d be easier if he just hated you, then you wouldn’t have to deal with all these other complex feelings.

“Not only all that, but I still made my decision even after finding out who you were, remember? Sure, it took me a minute. Mostly because I was embarrassed for having made an ass of myself that night. Law was trying to get me to talk to you the whole time. I’m pretty sure he was ready to have my head.” He made a sheepish expression as if he was apologizing to the young man in his head for that one.

“I don’t give a shit where you’re from - I’m from that same place. I’d be hypocritical if I judged you for it. We’re in this together now. I mean. Well, uhm. If you want,” he mumbled, rambling a bit towards the end, his face slowly turning red.

You had stopped crying at this point, honestly just taken aback by his words. Your heart was beating so fast as you sat there, in his lap, with your face in his large hands. You could read between his ramblings. 

He was right, though. You didn’t necessarily drag him into anything. He had been the one to take the initiative. Hell, he was even going to ask him out before your father showed up. You had planned on telling him everything if things did end up getting serious. If he had asked you out that day, you would’ve immediately told him everything. You hadn’t planned on lying to him at all - you believed in full transparency. Especially since he was from the same background as you. 

The way he found out was unplanned, but it was going to happen all the same. 

He had come back. You thought it was only because he found out that you were also the person who saved Law, but he had hardly mentioned that. Law had even confirmed that it wasn’t because of that. It was just shit timing from when they found out and when he was ready to confront all his feelings. Everything seemed to be happening out of order and now you were trying to put the pieces together.

You moved without much thought, kissing him hard. He made a small noise of surprise, but was quick to melt into it. Your arms slipped around his neck as his found their way around your waist. It was getting hot and heavy quickly, but you knew you couldn’t go too far since you were in Pops’ house and you would rather die than get caught by him or Marco.

You pulled away, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breaths. Corazon rested his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. You finally spoke after a moment. “Yes. We’re in this together.” You supposed you should answer the sentiment he had stumbled over earlier.

He chuckled softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Good because I’d be real sad if otherwise.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. He was such a goober, but it was cute.

You thought for a moment, frowning slightly. This was great and all, but…where did you go from here? You could start dating, yes. This was one thing solved. There were still tons of things you had to deal with. You had to get your hospital back somehow. You also needed some answers from Pops. It was time you found out exactly what happened between him and your father. You needed to make sure all your staff were safe. Obviously Corazon and the boys were safe, but you needed to know about everyone else as well.

You had let everything get to you. You had fallen off the deep end, but you were back now thanks to Corazon’s help. Only…you had no idea where to begin.

You suddenly felt him press a kiss to your forehead and you looked up at him. “I can see that big brain of yours is back in business,” he said with a large, goofy grin. You felt your heart start racing again. Fuck, he was beautiful. He stood up, picking you up with him. Luckily for him, Pops was also a very large man, so all the ceilings in this home were tall. He could stand with ease.

“However, it’s late. There isn’t much we can do now. Why don’t you sleep on it, let your thoughts organize, and we can figure things out in the morning, hm?” He slipped into bed with you and you felt your face warm up. 

“If your goal was to get into bed with me the whole time, you could’ve just asked,” you mused, using his words from earlier. This time he went red. “That’s not…uh…”

You laughed, settling into the bed and pulling him with you. “I know, I know. Now c’mere.” You could already feel the exhaustion from the crying and from your brain turning back on. He was right, you needed a good night's sleep before you started tackling this absolute shitshow that you needed to deal with. You’d waited this long, what was a few more hours?

The moment you felt Corazon pull you in and wrap himself around you - you were out like a light.

-----

first|next

[pippytmi]

wrote prompt # 9 from this prompt list for wildmoore: “There is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”/ “Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you.”

_______

“Ryan, I need you to hear me out, and don’t say no until I explain.”

It is as enthusiastic a hello as any, and Ryan doesn’t question it; when it comes to her best friend and her antics (the chicken incident of last Christmas immediately comes to mind), Ryan has learned to pick her battles. “Hi, Mary,” she says, and patiently shuts her front door as Mary walks right in. “It’s nice to see you too.”

By the time Ryan has locked and bolted her door, Mary has already begun to mix white wine and orange juice into two mugs. This is not the first time Mary has tried to ply Ryan with alcohol to get her to do something really, really stupid (again, chicken thing), and Ryan wordlessly takes a seat at the island and doesn’t bother hiding her judgment.

“Okay, this must be serious,” Ryan says eventually, as Mary hands her a drink with one hand and then downs her own with the other. “I’m afraid to ask now.”

“First you have to promise you won’t interrupt me until I finish,” Mary says. “Deal?”

“Sure, fine,” Ryan agrees, and she even takes a sip out of her mug as a show of good faith. It’s absolutely abysmal given the fact that she’s just brushed her teeth, and she quickly sets it down.

Mary takes a deep breath and straightens. “I need a favor,” she says. “Or actually, Sophie needs—”

“Oh hell no.”

“Ryan!” Mary gives her a half-pout, half-frown. “You said you wouldn’t interrupt!”

“Well you didn’t mention it would involve Sophie Moore.” Taste be damned, Ryan does need alcohol for this conversation, so she says fuck it and grabs her poor man’s mimosa again. “Whatever she wants from me, tell her to forget about it.”

“Technically,” Mary says, raising a finger in the air, “she doesn’t know I’m asking you. So you can rest assured your little arch-nemesis-rivalry or whatever is still intact. And if you would let me finish, I could actually tell you the situation we’re in.”

“You mean the situation she’s in,” Ryan corrects, and Mary levels her with a stare that Ryan has come to recognize as a wordless bitch, please. “Mary, you know I love you, and I overlook your fraternization with the she-devil—”

“Oh my God, you two are so dramatic,” Mary says. “Can I speak now, or are you going to keep rehashing pointless lesbian drama? Because I’ve aged two years trying to explain that all Sophie needs is a date.”

Ryan just about chokes on her wine.

Mary ignores her spluttering and continues, “Look, Sophie called me because she was invited to her ex’s wedding, and she desperately needs a date. I mean, it’s common practice right? If you go to your ex’s wedding, you need to show up with a hot date on your arm. And normally I would’ve done it, but it just so happens that it’s my sister’s wedding…” 

“Your sister?” Ryan feels like this conversation is occurring underwater all of a sudden. “Alice, or Kate?”

“Kate, obviously,” Mary says. “Alice isn’t gay. Well, maybe a little bit, no one knows what to make of the Safiyah thing.” She visibly pauses, and then grimaces. “So not something I want to remember. The point is, Sophie already told Kate she was bringing a plus one before she found out that Kate was my sister.”

“So she lied. I don’t see why you’re over here asking me to—I don’t even know what you’re asking me to do.”

“I’m asking you to be Sophie’s wedding date,” Mary says. “But not for real, since you two are clearly too stubborn to talk to each other.”

“Hold on, what is there to talk about?” Really, at this point it’s the principle of the thing to hate Sophie Moore, who is stuck-up and standoffish and just a general stick-in-the-mud. Ryan can't be faulted for wanting nothing to do with her.

“Don't get all defensive.” But Mary laughs when she says it, and she holds out the wine bottle like it's a peace offering. “Just think about it, okay? Imagine if it was Angelique getting married and Sophie was your only option for a date. She'd do it for you.”

“No she wouldn't,” Ryan counters, but she needs no deliberation in order to accept a swig from the bottle. “And how do you know I'm her only option?”

“Because Sophie told me she's planning on skipping the wedding since she can't find another date!” Mary cries, and she’s clearly distraught at the very idea; she's worrying her bottom lip insistently, a habit Ryan knows she's trying to break. “Come on, Ryan, please? If not for Sophie, then for me. I really think Kate will be sad if Sophie doesn't go, they're in such a good place now.”

“You’re going to pull the do-it-for-me card now?”

“Yes,” says Mary without a lick of shame. “And as your best friend, you're contractually obligated to do anything for me.”

“Even if I said I'd do this,” Ryan starts, and when Mary squeals in excitement, Ryan stresses again, “Even then, Mary, Sophie won’t agree. She hates me as much as I hate her.”

“Just leave that part to me,” Mary says with all the cadence of an evil mastermind, which means it’s probably time to cut her off from the alcohol.

Thankfully they change the subject to whatever Mary is planning on wearing for said wedding, and Ryan is relieved; if this actually were a serious proposal, she is sure the world would have been ending.

.

.

.

The first time Ryan met Sophie Moore, it had been as ordinary a night as any other.

In a way it was reminiscent of the first time Ryan met Mary; Kate Kane would occasionally DJ at the bar, and Ryan met Mary on the first night she’d come in to support her sister.  Like Mary, Sophie had shown up to watch Kate DJ. Unlike Mary, Sophie had been a total asshole all night. She’d ignored all of Ryan’s attempts at small talk (which was a thing Ryan did with everyone in the interest of tips, it was not flirting, no matter how Mary described it). Then when Sophie’s sister Jordan told her to “flirt back with the cute bartender” (which Ryan still objects to every time she thinks about it), Sophie—who was in earshot of Ryan—replied that Ryan wasn’t her type.

And honestly, Ryan could’ve overlooked all of that. She could have! Sophie Moore had no obligation to find Ryan attractive, or even be polite when Ryan served her, so long as she paid her bill and didn’t cause trouble. But at the end of the night Sophie—still in earshot—had remarked to Jordan that the drinks were subpar, and Ryan was pissed. This went beyond poor consumerism; it was just plain rude! And clearly, Sophie had intended for Ryan to hear it, so it just went to show that Sophie Moore was a snob.

Which is why when Mary comes sweeping into the bar and announces, “Guess what, Ryan—you have a date Saturday night,” Ryan almost drops the glass she’s cleaning.

“Oh no no no,” Ryan hastily interjects, setting the glass aside before she uses it as a weapon. “Do not tell me you actually told Sophie I’d do it.”

“You’re doing your best friend a favor and I love you,” Mary says without a hint of remorse, and she completely ignores Ryan’s slack-jawed response, just happily takes a seat at the bar and lifts a menu as if she doesn’t already have it memorized. “Hey, can you bring me some mozzarella sticks?”

“We’re not open,” Ryan says, snatching said menu back. “Mary. Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you?” Mary squints at her for a second. “I’m sorry, did you or did you not say you’d do it if Sophie agreed?”

“I said Sophie wouldn’t agree, even if I said I would.”

“Well she did agree, and I said you would, so…” Mary looks far too expectant for a dead woman walking. “I think it’s time you two buried the hatchet anyway. This isn’t Family Feud, you know. I feel like the child of a divorce sometimes.”

“You’ve never watched Family Feud in your life, have you?” Ryan shakes her head. “You know what, forget it. I just can’t believe you right now.”

Mary gasps. “You listened to me explain! Are you seriously acting like I’m springing this on you?”

“You made me listen to you!”

“Okay, I feel like you’re missing the point here, Ryan.” Mary says, “Which is why I am trying to promote healthy forgiveness.”

Ryan narrows her eyes. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Forgive me for caring about two of my friends finding mutual respect,” Mary says dramatically. “I guess I’ll just tell Sophie that you flaked, and that she’s going to have to return the dress she bought, and my dad will be devastated because he loves Sophie more than all of us combined…”

“You’re seriously trying to guilt-trip me now?” Ryan groans, and she stares longingly at the bottles on the shelf that she can’t consume. “Fine. Fine! If this really means so much to you, I’ll pretend to tolerate Sophie. But you’re going to have to lend me something to wear, because your family’s too rich to be around.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Mary beams, throwing her arms over the counter to drag Ryan into an uncomfortable half-hug. “And did I mention there’s an open bar?”

“Well damn, you could’ve led with that,” Ryan says, and Mary swats her with a newly-stolen menu.

“So does this mean you’ll get me mozzarella sticks now?”

“No, Mary, we are still closed.”

.

.

.

What does one wear to a date with the devil?

Ryan ponders this once, then twice, and ultimately goes with the black dress stashed in the very back of her closet that she bought for a funeral she never attended. It’s not fancy—modest enough to wear in a church if that was her thing—which suits her just fine. The last thing she wants is Sophie getting the impression she’s trying to dress up for her, or anything.

She is pairing her casual outfit with some silver hoops when her phone rings. It’s Mary, for the hundredth time today. For as desperate as Mary made Sophie sound, Sophie hasn’t made an actual effort to make sure Ryan was coming; no, that honor is apparently all Mary’s.

“Hi, Mary,” Ryan says, putting her on speaker so she can toss her phone to the side. “What’s up?”

“Hey! I just wanted to call and make sure you’re not escaping out a window right now.”

Ryan has to bite back a scoff. “I'm not a fucking runaway bride,” she says. “Wait. Unless this is all some sick, twisted way to get me married to Sophie Moore and you're lying about your sister's wedding.”

“God, you're the most dramatic person I know.” There is rustling on the other end, like Mary is shuffling through paper. “This is why I did not rule out jumping five stories to get out of this.”

“That’s a very tempting offer now that you mention it.”

“Ugh, you’re going to be insufferable all night, aren’t you?” More rustling. “Okay I did actually have a reason to call you this time. I sent a car over to your house—the driver said he’d get there in fifteen minutes. You guys will stop to pick up Sophie on the way.”

“How romantic,” Ryan quips. “Just me, Sophie, and our Uber driver.”

“Come on, I had to make sure you didn’t kill each other before the wedding even started,” Mary says. “Just be nice to the chauffeur. There’s no amount of money in the world that I could pay him which would compensate him for sitting through your drama.”

“Of course, I’ll be a saint to the chauffeur.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “This might be some pretentious rich people shit but I do have manners, you know.”

Mary exhales. “If I hang up,” she says, “will you promise to behave?”

“Really? That is a serious question you're asking me?”

“I need a yes or no answer,” Mary remains stubbornly steadfast.

A beat. “...yes, I’ll behave.”

“Then I will see you at the party. Love you bye!”

Ryan shakes her head to herself. “Bye,” she says to absolutely no one in particular. Well, disastrous situation aside, she makes the most of her fifteen minutes of freedom: she finishes her makeup, takes a quick shot of vodka for liquid courage, and makes her way downstairs to wait for the car so the driver doesn’t have to deal with the conundrum that is her apartment gate.

The chauffeur is a nice, older guy who holds open Ryan’s door and doesn’t try to make her talk. Instead, he plays jazz music and remarks ever so often about traffic and the weather. The vodka is doing just enough to make Ryan relaxed until, well…they reach Sophie’s door. 

As much as Ryan will fight tooth and nail to admit it, Sophie Moore is unfairly attractive. She emerges in a fitted orange dress, hair swept over her shoulder, and with a grim expression that Ryan can’t even take pleasure in when she knows her own face is practically a mirror.

“Hi, Ryan,” Sophie says stiffly.

“Sophie,” Ryan acknowledges just as formally. And then, they sit in complete silence.

Their chauffeur undoubtedly picks up on the tension; he checks on them from his mirror once or twice, but doesn’t ask if they’re okay, he just plays his music louder. When they arrive at the venue, Ryan pops open the door before he can even walk around to get it, already itching to escape.

Sophie lets him open her door, though, and she tips him even though Ryan knows Mary has already done the same ahead of time. Begrudgingly, Ryan can respect that. 

“I…wanted to thank you,” Sophie says once they’re alone. “For doing this.”

Ryan shrugs. “Well, Mary asked me to,” she says. “So.”

Sophie purses her lips. “Either way,” she says, in a manner that is clearly quite annoyed, “I appreciate it.”

“Mm-hm.” Ryan watches as other guests steadily trickle past them, and she sighs, ready to accept her fate. “Should we go in?”

“Yes, but…” Sophie stops Ryan with a hand to her shoulder before she can actually walk inside. “Can you at least try to look like you want to be here?”

Ryan blinks. “What? Am I not believable enough for you?”

“Not if you walk in there like I’m leading you to a guillotine, no,” Sophie replies, brow crinkling. “You know, there is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”

“Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you,” Ryan huffs, and Sophie’s expression twists into an offended glare.

“Why did you agree, then?”

“Because there was a whole thing with Mary, and—” Ryan stops before she’s ahead. “It doesn’t matter. I showed up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Sophie mutters without any sincerity, and Ryan follows her inside dreaming of that open bar.

.

.

.

Ryan meets the bride just as she’s two drinks in, a third flute of champagne raised to her lips as Sophie not-so-subtly elbows her to pay attention.

“Hi,” Kate Kane says, holding out her hand which Ryan belatedly realizes is for her. “Nice to finally meet the elusive girlfriend.”

“Yes, we were starting to think you didn't exist,” Alice, the other Kane sister, chimes in; she's staring Ryan down with an eerily searching gaze, and Ryan subtly shifts closer to Sophie.

“Well, here I am,” Ryan says, unsurely resting a hand on Sophie's waist. Sophie clearly isn't expecting it, because she starts, throwing Ryan a sharp glance over her shoulder.

“How fun,” Alice says gleefully. “What a nice big, happy family we’ll become. When are you two getting married? I can officiate now that I’m ordained.”

“Alice,” Mary hisses. “You can’t just ask people when they’re getting married.”

“Why not? This wedding is basically a parade of Sophie’s exes. If Ryan doesn’t marry her after all this, it’s a waste of a date.” 

Ryan twists to look at Sophie at the words “parade of Sophie’s exes.” Sophie, at least, looks adequately mortified. 

“She’s kidding,” Mary laughs, high-pitched and nervous as Alice just shrugs. “Hey, we should go take a picture with Dad. Just the Kane sisters! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Okay, but if I have to hear another passive-aggressive rant about the ceremony, I’m going to kill myself and everyone in the room with me,” Alice’s voice fades away as Mary frantically shoves her (and Kate) along.

Sophie clears her throat. “So that was my ex,” she says. “Kate, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ryan should be taking delight in the way Sophie is clearly uncomfortable, but in a strange turn of events, she can’t. In fact, she feels kind of bad.

“I need a drink,” Sophie sighs, and Ryan wordlessly holds out her glass. Surprised, Sophie eyes it up and down, but accepts it all the same. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ryan cranes her neck to peer at Mary, who is indeed wrangling her sisters towards Jacob Kane. “Hey. Question: Mary said that Jacob Kane pretty much loves you?”

Sophie half-coughs, half-sputters her next sip. “That’s…not entirely accurate.”

“But not untrue?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow, and Sophie’s shoulders slump like she’s lost a battle she hadn’t begun.

“I used to work with him,” Sophie confesses. “That’s how I met Kate. I guess I was kind of his favorite employee or whatever, but—that was a long time ago. It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who gets embarrassed easily,” Ryan notes, and Sophie tilts her head, pursuing her lips like she has to think about it.

“Maybe,” Sophie finally admits, “but showing up today dateless would’ve for sure hit the limit.”

Ryan nods thoughtfully. “So that’s why you were so desperate to bring me,” she says. “Even though you don’t think I’m your type.”

This time, Sophie fully chokes on her champagne. “W-what?”

“You don’t have to pretend.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “I heard you tell your sister that. I’m not, like, offended. It was still rude, but—”

“I didn’t know you could hear us,” Sophie says, and in a perplexing turn of events, she looks quite apologetic about the idea. “I didn’t mean it. I just…said it to get my sister off my back.”

“Oh.” Even as the words sink in, Ryan’s brain can’t seem to form a rational response to this information. Or stop the fact that when Sophie bites her lip in anticipation, Ryan’s eyes are automatically drawn to Sophie’s mouth. “I thought you kind of meant for me to hear it.”

“Is that why you think I’m an asshole?” Sophie blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well why did you think I was so mad at you?”

“I thought you just had a problem with police!”

Ryan sucks in a breath. “Oh, no, I definitely do. I guess my reaction was warranted.”

“Real mature,” Sophie says, narrowing her eyes ever-so-slightly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips so Ryan knows she isn’t taking it personally.

“No, for real, do you still work with the police? Because this is so not going to work if you do. My acting skills can only go so far,” Ryan says.

Sophie scoffs. “You’ll survive,” she says, and twists to peek back at the busy bar. “Should we join the line for another drink?”

Ryan follows her line of sight and resolutely shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

.

.

.

“You seriously brought a flask to a wedding with an open bar?”

“If you’re going to keep complaining, I’m going to take my whiskey elsewhere,” Ryan threatens half heartedly, but she gets a heady rush when Sophie tilts her head back to take another drink, and knows then and there she’s going nowhere else besides this coat check closet.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” Sophie says, passing the flask back; her fingertips brush against Ryan’s for longer than necessary. “Was the hiding necessary?”

“Duh,” Ryan says, taking another sip. “Mary would never let me live it down if she saw. She’s already given me so much shit about—” She pauses, not sure if she should continue, and Sophie gives a disbelieving laugh.

“You really didn’t want to be my date, did you? God, you’re so petty.”

“Fake date,” Ryan corrects her hastily. “And you seriously can’t blame me when you were the one being rude as hell in the first place.”

“But it wasn’t really what I thought!”

“Oh so I am your type,” Ryan challenges, and Sophie looks away, blushing.

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to bruise your ego.”

“That is the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” Ryan feels the whiskey like liquid warmth, settling right in her chest, and she grins when Sophie groans. “Come on, Sophie. I’m going to make you work for it.”

“Fine, I’m sorry for…being rude. Even if it was a little white lie and you weren’t supposed to hear it.” Sophie holds out her hand for the flask again, and Ryan is feeling magnanimous enough to let her have it. 

“Still not the best, but I’ll take it.” Ryan leans her head against the wall and sighs, a little sleepy and a little tipsy but otherwise quite content. “You know, you’re not that bad. Even though you don’t have an actual chance with me since you work for the Gotham PD, I think we can be friends.”

“Oh my God, I don’t even work for them anymore,” Sophie says. “I’m—between jobs.” Ryan watches her wince, like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and Ryan closes her eyes and just hums.

“Been there,” she muses. “Mary saved my ass by getting me a job. If you want some pointers, I’m sure I can make a bartender out of you.”

Sophie gives a huff of a laugh. “My mom would actually die if I told her I was training to be a bartender.”

“Hey, it takes a lot to do what we do,” Ryan says. “Not many people can perfect the art of a Long Island Iced Tea, let me tell you.”

“Except for you?” Sophie is already sitting close to share the whiskey, but when she turns to whisper this teasingly, Ryan is struck by how close their faces are. Like if they shifted even two inches, their noses would be brushing.

It takes Ryan a beat to recover, but she manages: “Obviously. It keeps all the customers coming back.”

Sophie’s mouth twitches like she wants to laugh again, but she settles for a smile, amused and plainly unconvinced. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she says, and she turns away, their closeness vanishing in an instant. “Do you think anyone is missing us?”

“Mary probably assumes I’ve killed you by now,” Ryan says. “But everyone else probably thinks we snuck off for a hookup.”

“At someone’s wedding?” Sophie sounds positively scandalized at the idea. “That’s…crazy. And us? Do we give off that vibe?”

Ryan watches Sophie squirm and finds it, strangely, very cute. Fuck. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but, couples generally hook up. And weddings are pretty much the #1 place where they do it. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Because you go to so many weddings, or is this just a statistic all bartenders know?”

“Don’t hate the player,” Ryan says, waving the flask to make her point, and Sophie finally breaks down into real laughter.

“Oh, God,” she exhales afterward, “what time is it? I think you’ve somehow managed to keep me at this wedding longer than I wanted to. I had a plan to stick around for like an hour or two just to be nice, but…”

“But I’m just that great of a date, I know,” Ryan says, if only to make Sophie blush again.

“Fake date,” Sophie says pointedly. “Remember?”

Ryan bites her lip. “Right,” she says, and just as Sophie is shifting like she’s about to stand up and ruin the moment, Ryan blurts out: “But what if it wasn’t fake?”

Sophie freezes. “What?”

“We could make this a real date,” Ryan says, heart working so hard it feels like it’s about to race out of her body. “If you wanted it to be.”

“Seriously?” Sophie’s mouth falls open slightly, and she says nothing else, just looks at Ryan with those big brown eyes and heart-shaped mouth agape.

“Unless I’m really not your type and you’re just trying to save my feelings,” Ryan tries to quip, but as Sophie seems to struggle through every conflicted expression known to man, Ryan’s hopes fall into the pit of her stomach. “You know what? Never mind. Obviously that’s not what this is and I’m—” She blindly shoves her flask back into her jacket so she can stand.

But before she can even get away (and fall into the beckoning embrace of the open bar), there’s a hand tugging her back down, and then Sophie Moore is kissing her. It’s a rushed, chaste kiss during which Ryan is definitely too stiff, but it does the trick; Ryan stumbles right back down, and Sophie jerks away, fingertips curled into the collar of Ryan’s jacket without letting go.

“You were talking too much,” Sophie breathes, and Ryan nods at her dumbly.

The only thing her brain can possibly formulate a thought for is: “Wait, so this whole time I really was your type?”

“Shut up,” Sophie says, and when she yanks Ryan back in for another kiss, Ryan is already leaning in at the same time, kissing Sophie as well as her smile allows.

(She’ll have to thank Mary for this later. Much, much later).

[mrsoharaa]

not me already writing a little blurb/drabble of professional snake handler (tatted + pierced) Suguru 🐍👀😚🥰🤗🖤

[merverelli]

👁️ egotober day 13 - mirror 👁️ 🎲 dimensiontwentober day 3 - crossover 🎲 aka me smashing my interests together and ignoring that its now november <3

(ref pics under the read more!)

[butch-himbo-king]

asked presley to help me come up with a list of things i should remember for my intake appointment today and she said “say no more” and sat down and wrote out an entire page in less than 5 minutes 😭

[wabblebees]

just finished the new fantasy high episode and havent seen anyone talk abt this so i wanted to say i am 100. one HUNDRED PERCENT sure. that fuckin fourdogs was at that party invisibly (the One And Only buttfucker to NOT make an obvious appearance?? rules-follower or no, i dont believe that for a SECOND) and that she stole the piece of the cloud runner that went missing, and that the moment of her swipe was the "something" riz missed on his check -- i also really *hope* it wasn't oisin that made those damn ice mephits (or "muffets" as my beloved drunk adaine christened them lmao) act up like that, but immmmm pretty sure thats exactly what was goin on since it wouldve given his party member advantage/an easier access point :/

[byanyan]

...ah, it's snowing

[lesbiansanemi]

Being brave and trying to set up appointment with gynecologist today. Hell on planet earth

[threnodians]

i have been awake for over 24hrs 🤪

[crehador]

who are you... i don't remember you like at all......

[landgraabbed]

i've been grappling with converting one piece of cc to sims 2 and it got me thinking about one thing. i love shitting on early access and paywall creators as much as anyone else and have been doing so for years now, but it's so disingenuous when people do so by minimizing their work as 5 minute mesh edits.

making cc is hard work. i suck at it, but so much goes into doing it right. this shit is difficult and a skill that you develop. shit on them for being so creatively bankrupt that every item looks like the others, for their greed so evil that some refuse to let go of curseforge, for using knowledge that is freely shared in the community to turn a profit. i just think that minimizing cc creation is not it

[wejustvibing]

"this year, we have some things we need to work on, they're still not perfect and we're still not able to match the red bulls currently, or the ferraris maybe, but as i said, it is better. there are things that changed, the bouncing has gone, and there are couple of elements that have been better so far.

who knows where we will be next week. just got to stay positive, we got to manifest what we want, and just continue to push. that's what we live for."